Out of the Closet and into the Barn
Out of the Closet and into the Barn
'Stop looking at his flanks. Stop looking at his flanks. Stop thinking like this. That's just Discord speaking in your mind; it's not natural to feel that way. Shut up, Discord. I'm not gay. I'm not gay. Just leave me alone,' you think as you trot up to the big red stallion with green apples adorning the flanks you can't seem to tear your eyes from. He looks at you expectantly, appraising you for the farm work you signed up for, most likely.
"Are you- are you Macintosh?" you ask nervously. "I'm Anonpony; I signed up to help clear Sweet Apple Acres for the Running of the Leaves?"
"Eeyup," the big red stallions says impassively, casting his eyes over towards the outskirts of town where the apple orchard lay. He starts a slow canter towards the farm, clearly expecting you to follow. It's a mere canter for him, but you're caught somewhere between a trot and a gallop.
"So," you start, hoping to keep yourself busy during the walk by talking to him. You are somewhat interested in what he must be like; Discord wouldn't put those vile thoughts in your head if you didn't admire him somehow, right? "What do you do around the farm?"
Big Mac smiles at you.
"A little bit of everything, I s'pose," he answers good-naturedly. "Applebuckin' mostly, though."
"Oh," you say, searching for some way to follow up. Your eyes dart to his flanks, again. You can see his muscles, toned from endless bucking. Maybe that was why you were interested in looking at his flanks. Professional curiosity and all that. Yeah, that's it! You were simply admiring somepony expert in his craft!
"What do you do, Anonpony?" Mac asks, still looking straight ahead. It was rather gallant of him, since most ponies would simply look at your flank to see your cutie mark and make an educated guess based on that. To simply ask you without looking... He had very old-fashioned manners, but they were quite flattering. You feel sort of bad for looking at his cutie marks so much....
"I work in a museum," you say. "But I do a little bit of musical performance on weekends..."
"Really?" Mac huffs, sounding pleasantly surprised. "Whatchy'all play?"
"Oh, a little of everything, but I particularly enjoy Frederic Chopony..." you say, blushing. You don't really expect him to know who he is. He's most likely a fan of country music.
"I'm a fan of his nocturnes," he says absentmindedly. "But he doesn't write much a cappella so I don't get to perform his stuff much."
A cappella....A Cappella!
"You're the baritone from the Ponytones!" you blurt out. The Ponytones were somewhat famous in the Ponyville area; they were somewhat famous for their Ponyville Aria. If you hadn't been walking, you would have facehoofed for not realizing sooner.
"Eeyup," he said a semitone or two lower than usual, trying to conceal his pride.
"Wow," you murmur. How had that slipped by you; you had a purely music crush on that baritone.... 'To be walking next to him now.... No, stop those thought. Stop them. You're not gay. You. Are. Not. Gay.'
"If it's Chopony you're into, I might've seen you before," Mac says off-handedly. "You ever play at the Bit 'n Bridle?"
"Yeah!" you blurt. You had played at the local upscale bar before. You were surprised you hadn't seen him around when you had been behind the piano. "I didn't know you went there!"
"Eeyup," Mac says. "Only place in town that has a decent cognac..."
Ah, he was a brandy drinker? This stallion could be your very brother; an appreciation for fine music, a voice like an a hero of myth, good taste in liquid courage, and flanks the likes of which you'd only ever seen on ancient statues of gods....
'No. No. NO. Stop thinking about him like that, Anonpony. Damn it, you're straight. You like mares. Well.... Maybe you don't *like them, but you're attracted to them. Well... Only a few.... But... You've got high standards! It's okay to be highbrow!*'
"Anonpony?" Mac asks.
"Hmm?" you grunt, breaking from your internal dialogue.
"You okay, partner?" he says, looking genuinely concerned. He averts his eyes from the road to look at you for the first time since you two started walking. "You're looking a bit blue..."
You look into his eyes, and you see genuine concern. Not wanting to lie to him, you slip him a half-truth.
"I'm just... A little... Intimidated is all. You're so accomplished and all that..." you say, not quite sure how to phrase your feelings. A healthy admiration is what you have in mind. Mac just chuckles, turning his head back to the road in front of him.
"T'ain't nothing to be scared of, partner, less'n you think I'll bite," he chuckles in his low voice.
"No, of course not!" you spit, hoping he's not offended. "It's just... I've listened to a lot of your records, and it's sort of difficult coming to terms with you being here next to me."
Mac stayed silent for a few minutes. Every moment was sheer agony. Did you mess up somehow? Did you say something too strong? You were pretty close to Sweet Apple Acres before he said anything. As you passed the gate, he spoke up.
"I can see how you could feel that way, Anonpony," he says quietly. "But you should understand, I sort of feel the same way about you."
"You feel that way about me? How could you possibly?" you ask, incredulous.
"Well, I've never seen anypony play a piano like you can," he says seriously. "And besides, the way y'talk about history and whatnot in the museum is a little more than inspiring."
He already knew what you did for a living, before he even asked.
"But, Mac..." you start.
"Hol' on an applebuckin' minute; here comes my cousin," he says, gesturing towards a much smaller yellow stallion, about your size, walking over to the both of you.
"Hey there, stranger!" the smaller stallion says, hailing you by rearing up with a big smile.
"Uh, hi," you stammer. Your eyes dart to his flanks as well. 'God damn it, no, no no. Please, Discord, stop putting these dirty, unnatural thoughts in your head. Stop, just STOP!!!! Please, I beg you...'
"My name's Braeburn!" he says bombastically. "I take it you're the one who wanted to help set up the Running of the Leaves?"
"Umm, yes," you say quietly. His mane is absolutely gorgeous. 'No, stop thinking like that. You... You just want a mane like that so you could attract mares. You're just jealous, that's all.'
"So you're Anonpony?" he asks, getting a little closer than you expected.
"Yes," you say, sticking out a hoof. He shakes it enthusiastically, almost shaking your whole body. His smile grows even wider.
"Mac didn't tell me you were going to be so cute!" he says. It takes your brain a moment to process the statement. Once it fully registers, your legs start to shake and your body starts to tremble.
"Braeburn!" Mac chides harshly. Braeburn simpers, making puppydog eyes at his cousin. The big red stallion glares and shakes his head. Braeburn's ears go flat and his bright smile melts into a sad face.
"I'm sorry, Anonpony," he offers. you look from Mac to Braeburn, not sure what to think. "I... I was just trying to be nice is all..."
"I-it's okay," you stammer, still trying to sort out how you feel about what he'd said. He's called you cute... Only your mother had ever said that about you. But for some reason, when he said it, it made you feel... Strong. Capable. Like you were somepony that people wanted to know. You felt like you weren't worthless. That was a first for you.
"Really, it's okay..." you say. Maybe he'd feel the same way if you said it about him... "I sort of think you're cute too."
Braeburn immediately blushes, taking off his hat and holding it over his heart.
"Aww, shucks, Anonpony," he says, blushing deeply. "I didn't think you'd... That was really nice of you to say." He smiles at you, and you smile back. For some reason, you feel... Warm, inside, when you smiled at him. You don't quite understand why, but something about it just feels... Right. 'Maybe this is what "male bonding" is. Maybe this is what it's like to have a brother.' All these thoughts are driven from your mind when you feel Macintosh's hoof on your back.
"You ready to do some work, Anonpony?" he asks, pulling you into his side a little bit. Oddly enough, that felt right, too. 'Maybe... Maybe this is what having brothers feels like; all this touching and smiling and feeling good.' All of a sudden, you feel bitter for never having any brothers to grow up with. Oh well, you can at least pretend with Mac and Braeburn for the day.
"I sure am!" you say, eagerly. For some reason, Braeburn looks a little sour, and glares at Mac. It must be a family thing.
No more than an hour later, you're moving branches from the path that the runners will take. It's not particularly strenuous work, but you work up a bit of a sweat despite the autumn cold. Parts of your mane stick to your head and neck, and your body feels hot and lively. Mac, however, seems as calm and dry as when you first saw him. He's moving larger logs from felled trees as if they were made of styrofoam. He kicks them off to the side of the path with ease that makes you seriously start considering hitting the gym. He comes over to check up on you every twenty minutes or so.
"Y'all doing alright, Anonpony?" he asks, making sure to make eye contact.
"Of course! They're just little twigs," you joke.
"You sure?" he asks. "You're looking awfully sweaty." He licks his lips.
"I'm good for a lot more than just what my cutie mark shows," you joke. You really want to impress him by moving some logs like he is, but you're not sure you can do it. You also don't want to embarrass yourself by failing to move the little logs he's moving with one hoof. In the end, you decide the risk is worth the reward. "So Mac, how about I lend you a hoof with those logs?"
"Uhhhh, y'all sure, Anonpony?" he says, apprehensive.
"Sure, it won't be a problem!' you say, hoping for all that is holy you can impress your fictive brother.
You trot over to the next log it looked like Mac was going to move. Not the biggest, but not the smallest, either. It's not perfectly round, though, so it looks like it might be a bit of a challenge to roll it. You place your back hooves against it, and give it a push. It doesn't budge. Your eyes dart around, looking for Mac. He doesn't seem to have noticed. You square yourself again, and push even harder. It moves a few inches, but it doesn't roll, and only succeeds in tearing up a little turf. This time, though, Mac has noticed.
"That's okay, Anonpony, it's just in the technique," he says supportively. "Let me show you..."
He canters over and adjusts your stance with his hooves. He puts his hooves on your flanks, feeling them and spreading them out a bit, and pulling your legs a little wider. You feel a strange jolt when his hooves are on the inside of your thighs... 'That's not an area other ponies touch much, so it's only natural I feel a little odd when he puts his hooves there, right?'
"There you go pardner," Mac says, sounding a little winded for the first time all day. "Give that a try."
You give a push with your back hooves, and to your surprise, the log rolls off the path without any difficulty. You sit, shocked for a moment, looking from the log to Mac, from Mac to the log. In a sudden burst of emotion, you let out a whoop of exhilaration.
"Woohoo! I knew I could move it!" you shout, leaping about and bucking the air. You feel Mac's legs encircle you in an embrace. He lifts you into the air and tosses you up and down in celebration.
"Eeyup!" he shouts, showing a little more excitement than usual. He catches you from the air and hold you in his hooves for a few seconds, breathing in your aroma. 'Is that a brother thing too? It must be!'
"Anonypony, there's a lot I can teach you about farm life," Mac said softly, still holding you in his hooves.
"Like what?" you say, still panting from your exhilaration. His fur is soft, and you can feel his mane spilling over into yours. His breath smells like apple pie.
"Like how we treat guests," he says in a low voice, nuzzling you on the neck. You feel a sudden rush, realizing what he's suggesting.
"NO!" you shout. "NO, NO, NO! That's from Discord!" you say, ripping yourself out of his hooves. His strong hooves had the strength to break you in two, but they let go at the slightest hint of hesitation. "That sort of thing isn't right! It's not natural! Stallions aren't meant to be with stallions!" you shout.
Mac's face screws up like he's about to cry.
"Everypony my whole life has told me that, please, not you too!" he says, his lip quivering. "They say it's not right, and they hate ponies like me, but they don't understand. Please, Anonpony, don't tell me that you're one of them."
You look at him, seething, feeling some strange mixture of anger and betrayal. You look at his face, searching it for the evil your parents said you would see in the face of a colt-cuddler. You can't, though. All you can see is a pony just like you.
"Please, Anonpony, I don't want anypony to feel that way," he says, tears freely streaming down his cheeks, now. "If you're not.... If you're not like me, it's okay; I'll never say anything again and you can leave and we never have to talk again. But if you feel the way I do..."
You're not sure how to feel... He is the perfect stallion, if you were into them... But you're not sure you are. How can you be sure this isn't Discord playing a trick on you? What if it's Celestia testing you? You have to work this out for yourself.
"Just... Just give me some time, Mac," you say gently. You bolt off towards the farmhouse. If nothing else, maybe Braeburn can help you sort all this out.
It's not a long gallop to the farmhouse. When you arrive, Braeburn's inside making signs to direct the runners on the path.
"Howdy, Anonpony!" he says when you gallop in, sweating and nervous. You look around; nopony else looks to be in the house. "Ya'll okay?" he asks, noting your agitation.
"Uhhh, I'm not really sure," you reply truthfully. "This might sound a bit forward.... But... Is it okay to be... Like... In love with another colt?" you ask. The Apple family is known for their conservatism and good sense around town; the sort of traits your family and the pastor they used to make you go to would certainly admire. They must be good judges of right and wrong.
Braeburn immediately sets down his markers and rushes to your side, wrapping a hoof around you and holding you close.
"Anonpony, it's okay," he says, as he feels you trembling to hold back tears. "Shhh, shhhh, it's okay. It's okay. I know what you feel like."
"How could you possibly? You're an Apple!" you say, as if that would obviously exclude him from your situation. "I'm just so confused..."
Braeburn pulled you closer, hugging you just a little tighter.
"It's okay. Being an Apple... We sort of have an image to uphold, right? But... But we're all our own people. It just so happens Mac and I... Well... Well... We're colt-cuddlers."
You draw back at the name, but... For some reason, you hold Mac and Braeburn in high enough respect (even based on your limited interactions with them) not to think less of them for such an admission.
"It's just the way we are; we can't help it at all," he continued. "Our parents didn't understand; a lot of ponies didn't understand.... But it's okay. Because we're happy with who we are because we're us."
Your trembling gave way to tremors, and now, it gives way to full blown sobs. Braeburn hugs you tight and strokes your mane, humming a little song. You don't recognize the tune, but it's something to hold on to through your frantic sobs. You hug him back, and he's your rock of confidence throughout the gamut of emotions you blaze through. Fear, that your whole family with hate you for who you are; Sadness, that you've been lied to your whole life, and told it was Discord speaking in your mind; Doubt, that maybe nothing anypony ever told you is true, when something so basic was a boldfaced lie; Bitterness, that you hadn't allowed yourself to realize until now; Anger, that ponies hated stallions like you, Mac, and Braeburn. After a long while, you'd sobbed your feelings out, and Braeburn had been there for you the whole time.
You hear the door to the farmhouse open. A little filly with a bow in her hair walks in. She glances at you and Braeburn for a moment, and walks over to the two of you. With a knowing look, she speaks:
"It's okay, Mister," she said quietly. "Everypony is who they're gonna be, and that's just okay. If you're like Big Mac, you're still the same pony you were before, and we love you for it."
She walked up the stairs to her room to go play. You sit, shocked for a moment, staring in Braeburn's face. His look confirms her statement. You burst into hysterical tears again, burying your face in Braeburn's chest. The idea that a little filly, so innocent and pure, could echo his ideas... It meant they had to be true.
"So, Anonpony," Braeburn said after a fashion. "Do you understand?"
You wipe your tears away with your hoof.
"I understand... And I'm so sorry..." you say. Braeburn looks concerned.
"No. Don't apologize, you were just-" he says, before he's interrupted by the door opening again. This time, Macintosh stands in the frame.
"Is everything alright?" he asks nervously, noticing you in Bareburn's arms.
"Everything's just fine," the yellow stallion says, brushing a hoof through your mane.
"Mac," you say. "I'm.... I'm sorry I acted the way I did. I just didn't know how to feel."
He looks visibly relieved.
"S'ok partner; I just... I felt like I might have been a little forceful is all," he says, edging closer towards you. You stand up, taking a step or two towards him.
"Forceful... Mac... I've... I don't think I've ever heard somepony be so gentle," you say sincerely. "I'm just sorry I left you hanging."
Mac looked a little surprised at that, as did Braeburn. They looked at each other briefly, sharing a glance of a complex mixture of uncertainty and understanding.
"So, uhh, did you want to uhh.... Maybe go on a date sometime?" Mac asked, keeping one eye on you, and the other on Braeburn.
"Ummm," you say, not quite sure how to respond.
"I'd... Sort of... Also... Like.... I'd like to date you, too, Anonpony!" Braeburn blurts after some stammering. You're not quite sure how to decide; here are two stallions, both extremely attractive to you, now that you can finally accept that attraction as you and not some devil inside you, and they're both vying for your hoof. You feel like a maiden in a fantasy tale.
"Come on now, Brae, I saw him first," Mac says, stamping his hooves. Braeburn stands up, drawing himself to full height in what seems like a cruel parody compared to Macintosh's size.
"Well.... I helped him through all this!" he said indignantly.
"So did I!" Mac said, gritting his teeth and towering over his cousin. A thought occurs to you, one which hasn't comfortably inhabited your head since you were first told that looking at stallions wasn't right.
"Maybe... Maybe we can do both?" you offer tentatively.
"What now?" both Apples ask in unison, their voices a perfect four semitones apart.
"Would it be particularly odd for me to just... You know... Try both at once?" you ask. It was a picture you'd had in your head since you were a colt; two stallions making love to a third. You'd seen the picture in one of your mother's magazines and decided that it was what you liked... When Dad had found that, you and your mother had gotten a good beating...
"You mean, like..." Mac started, apprehensive.
"A three-way?!" Braeburn finished, his face lighting up.
"I suppose," you say. The back of your head feels hot and prickly... You'd been suppressing this urge for most of your life, but the very idea of you being with two other stallions, both of which you'd be really happy to be your first anyway...
"Hush, Brae," Mac chided, gesturing upstairs with a hoof, towards where the filly was playing.
"Oh, come on, she just said she knows how we are," Braeburn said, swinging his hips a little.
"That doesn't mean I want her knowing... Details, partner," Macintosh said. Braeburn sighed.
"Fine then, the barn it is," the yellow stallion said, putting a hoof on your back.
"The barn...?" you ask, nervous. Barns are generally sort of dirty; full of hay and smelly animals and whatnot. Not a good place for sex, you assume.
"Eeyup," Mac says, smiling a little. You trust his smile enough to know there's more to the barn than the word suggests.
As it turns out, the barn isn't really much of a barn at all. It's a little ways off the property, but it resembles a loft, fully furnished with a shower, kitchen, and some furniture.
"We've been trying to sell this for a while," Mac explains. "But we can enjoy it in the meantime."
The furnishings are austere, yet nice, and the environment is cozy without being dingy or claustrophobic. Much nicer than the sorts of places your parents told you cold-cuddlers would fuck in...
"So, do you top or bottom?" Braeburn said, out of nowhere.
"Brae!" Mac scolded, annoyed.
"Top? Bottom?" you ask.
"What he means to say, Anonpony, is... Do you like to be the stallion who puts himself into ponies, or who stallions put themselves into?" Macintosh explained.
"Uh..." you think for a moment. "I suppose the sort that likes having other stallions fuck him."
'Ooooh, 'fuck him.' It feels so delectably dirty... So heinous... So... sexy. I've always imagined myself as the stallion in the middle. No reason to distrust my instincts now, seeing as how Mac and Braeburn had shown them to be perfectly valid.'
"Your're a bottom!" the Apples say in unison once again. Mac looks quite pleased, but Braeburn looks devastated. Judging from their mixed reactions, you're not sure if that's a good thing or not. Logically, it should be a 50:50 ratio of ponies who like being fucked to those who like doing the fucking... But then again, Equestria has an 8:1 female-to-male ratio, so maybe not.
"I guess so," you say meekly, grinning.
"But... But..." Braeburn stammers.
"Come on now, Brae, he's made his decision," Mac says smugly. He looks very pleased with himself. "Show him how to do it."
Braeburn takes you to the bathroom and show you how to clean up. It's not as bad as you expected; it feels a little weird at first, but afterwards, you feel like a sexual tiger. Like you're ready to eat somepony alive and spit his bones back out. You come back out into the loft to see Macintosh waiting for the two of you. He's standing near the bed. 'God, look at his flanks, they're so - no, no, NO! That's Discord talking to you and you're going to burn in.... No. It's not Discord. It's not some devil. It's you. It's YOU. YOU LOVE STALLIONS!'
"I LOVE STALLIONS!" you shout, feeling liberated. It feels amazing to say it, like you've finally finished something you know you've had to do for your whole life. Mac smiles, and tackles you onto the bed.
"And this stallion loves you!" he growls, his baritone voice stirring something inside you that you thought was pure musical appreciation.
You feel Mac's body press into yours, not heavily, but gently, as he nips your neck and holds your hips in his thighs. You giggle from the tickle he's giving you, and when you can manage to open your eyes, you can see he's smiling wider than you've ever seen him smile before. He leans down to kiss you on the lips. His mane hangs down and tickles your forehead and you taste a hint of apple-y sweetness on his tongue. You feel a jolt when his lips find yours, and a mild tingle when he pulls away. That had never happened with mares.
As Mac kisses your face, you feel a sudden warm wetness on your back hoof. You lean to the side to see Braebun licking the inside of your hooves. You hadn't been much of a hoof-fetishist... But it felt so good that you can see why some ponies were into it. Mac continues to kiss you, going down your neck, onto your chest, back up your neck, and back to your lips. This time, you make him chase your tongue around your mouth as he giggles, savoring the hunt. Braeburn has moved up onto the bed, now, coming to stand above your head. He lathers kisses on anywhere Mac isn't occupying. Their manes interplay with yours, tickling and tugging, teasing and brushing, until eventually they bump their heads into each other. You and Mac chuckle, but Braeburn seems annoyed.He pulls back and starts whispering in your ear as Mac kisses his way down your abdomen.
"Is this your first time?" he asks.
"Yes," you said quietly as your arc your back from Mac's kisses to your chest.
"Do you like cock in your mouth?" he asks. You think back to that picture of the three stallions.
"I do," you whisper, feeling Mac lavishing on your belly, moving his way down towards your crotch.
"Ohhh, a little slut," Braeburn giggles. It sounds wrong... No, not wrong... New. New, and sexy.
"I'm your little slut," you croon, feeling Mac tease at your cock with his mouth.
You feel Braeburn shift, then you feel something warm and heavy fall on your face. Braeburn's cock is on your face. Braeburn's cock is on your face! You rise to erection faster than ever have before, much to Macintosh's surprise.
"Well?" Braeburn prompts. You know what he wants you to do. And by Celestia, you want to do it so bad.
You reposition yourself slightly, and take his shaft into your mouth. It's hot and soft, but it feels amazing. You try to stroke it with your tongue, imagining what you'd like in his position. You don't feel much from Mac as Braeburn stuffs himself in your maw, moving in and out to alleviate your burden of immobility, being on your back. You move your tongue around his cock, feeling the veins and flares, letting the soft underside lavish on his head... As Braeburn pulls back, you feel a curious cold, wet feeling near your tail. You wonder what that could-
'OH MY GOD
OH MY GOD
OH MY GOD I'M BEING FUCKED.
yay~'
Big Macintosh thrusts himself into your ass right as the same time Braeburn pushes himself deep into your throat. You feel a blast of pain, almost causing you to bite down on poor Braeburn, but you manage to stop yourself, only letting your throat and tongue squeeze him harder. He moans in sudden pleasure. You gurgle around Brae's cock in unexpected pain. Mac, now fully inside you, leans down over you, his mane forming a blonde canopy around Bareburn's balls, which oscillate from your nose to your forehead.
"Just relax," he urges. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Anonpony; just relax. It feels better when you do."
You try to listen to him, wiggling your backside a little to ease up, but it only hurts worse. You make a strained crying sound around Bareburn's cock. Braeburn pulls out of you, noticing there's something wrong.
"Owww, Mac, you're too big!" you moan.
"Just focus on my voice, Anonpony," he says in his deep baritone. "Just listen to me, and think about that."
You try, and after a few motions, you can still feel his cock, but the real feeling isn't on your hold, it's inside. Your hole, which had hurt before, was a pleasurable afterthough, a squeezing ring of pleasure better than any you'd ever gotten from clopping off. Noticing how you'd relaxed, Mac bends in for a kiss.
"That's a good colt, Anonpony," he say, giving a low, guttural sigh. As soon as Mac pulls his head back, Breaburn's cock goes back in your mouth. To your surprised and pleasure, he's still as hard as he had been a minute ago. You squeeze him as tight as you can, veritably trying to swallow his cock and taste it at the same time. Mac grunts as he fucks you, in and out, in and out. He leans down onto you so that your stomachs are together, sandwiching your cock between his rock-hard abdomen and your somewhat pudgy belly. The new sensation is welcome, and you give a primal moan of pleasure; as loud as you can manage with Braeburn in your mouth.
"Hooohhhh," he moans. "You like that? You like my cock? Huh?"
You do your best to nod, but your head's too far back to make any proper gesture, so you just look up at him with pleading eyes. Mac gives a particularly powerful thrust, and you momentarily lose track of your surrounding from the amount of pleasure it give you. You give something between a moan and a groan, and the sound and vibration excites Braeburn. He tears his cock from your mouth as smoothly as he can. You can see it throbbing; he's doing he best to keep from ejaculating in your mouth. He brings a hoof down to his dick, and begins to stroke it, finally releasing himself onto your face.
"Oooooh, Brae," you moan, feeling his head against your cheek as it pumps his seed all over your eyes, nose, and mouth.
"Anonpony...." he groans, finally spending himself completely and falling backwards almost comically. "He's all yours, Mac."
Literally on cue, Mac wraps his hooves around your back, holding you closer to him as he fucks your deeper, harder, and faster. All tenderness is gone from his face as he winces in pleasure and concentration. Your cum-covered face is pressed into his chest, but you find it sexy. You wrap your hooves around him as far as they'll reach and hold on for dear life as Mac fucks you harder than your thought possible.
"Hnnnng!" Mac grunts as he tears his cock out of you. You gasp from the sheer emptiness you feel. In one swift motion, Mac tears your hooves off of him and flips you over, bending you over the bed. He levies himself, and thrusts back into you. It feels soooohohohoho gooooood. Mac is like Filly Wonka, sailing you down his chocolaty river of pleasure.
"Ooooh, Mac," you moan, as you feel his chest press into your back, hard.
"Anonpony," he growls. "You're so tight... It's amazing..."
His praise turns you on all the more; you push your backside up into his crotch, hoping to help him get off. He shifts his angle a bit, and you feel something new. Somewhere inside you, there's a place that he's touching.... And it feels... Like nothing else you've ever felt. It's like he's touching a button that makes sex a million times better than with mares... And he's touching it over, and over, and over.
"Oooooooaaaaaaaah!" you squeal in delight. "Mac, don't stop, please, don't sttttoooop!"
Mac grunts in acknowledgement as you feel something touch your cock, which is still half-flaccid. You can't see, but you're pretty sure it's Braeburn-
Yes, it's Braeburn sucking on it whole cupping your balls.Your cock gets harder and harder from Braeburn's stimulation, and so does that button that Mac keeps hitting, making it feel better and better. After only a few moments of this treatment, you feel yourself about to go over the edge.
"Oh, Mac, Mac, I think I'm gonna... I'm gonna...." you say. Mac gives one big thrust, causing your eyes to go wide and your ass to start contracting in time with his thrusts. "Ahhhhhhhh Ahhhhhh!" you whine, cumming so hard you loose the capacity for speech.
You shoot into Braeburn's mouth, and he gives you the same tongue treatment you have him. It feels so amazing that you're seeing stars. Your orgasm lasts for longer than you thought was even possible, during which time you couldn't think of anything save how good everything way. How perfect these two stallions were. Mac keeps fucking you the whole time, leading to spikes in pleasure during which you're fairly certain you're sent to another planet.
After your orgasm finally subsides, you feel the normal feeling of afterglow, and hope that Mac gets off quickly, so you don't have to go flaccid and wait for him to cum. But much to your surprise... Your pleasure doesn't subside. It decreases from the apex of orgasm, but... Mac keeps fucking you and it still feels amazing. Braeburn presses on your perineum and you buck your hips a little bit in surprise. Mac leans down on you, his chest pressing your back further into the bed. He bites your ear, hard enough to hurt, but soft enough for that pain to be construed as pleasure.
"Ooooooooooohhhhhhhhh" you moan, shuddering from the sheer stimulation, almost laughing at how ridiculously good and new everything feels. Mac grunts in approval, and shift in position again, taking a new angle on hitting your spot. It's odd, but if feels like you're ramping up to... 'Another orgasm?
Another orgasm!'
"Oooooooh, Mac, fuck me!" you cry as you start to climax again. He groans and you feel his cock begin to throb inside you. Braeburn lets the pressure off about halfway through. You squeeze Macintosh in time to his own orgasm, which is a lot shorter than yours. No matter, he's kind enough to leave his cock inside you so you can wiggle and buck as you finish a second time.
Once's you've finished, you sort of melt to the floor, saving Mac the trouble of pulling himself out as you sort of just fall off his cock. He chuckles at you the way a parent chuckles at a toddler learning to walk. You manage to climb onto the bed, where you lay spasming and quivering in an afterglow more intense than all the orgasms you've ever had before. The mere memory of Mac inside you makes you completely forget all your inhibitions about this. Your parents were so wrong. You've been a colt-cuddler all long.
"How was it?" Braeburn asks, plopping down next to you.
"I want to do it again," you manage to say.
"Me too, partner, me too," Mac said, flopping down on your other side, causing the whole bed to jump. You climb up onto Macintosh's chest and lay there, legs draped over him. Your ear against his throat lets you hear his deep breaths and signs of contentment. Braeburn plays with your hooves for a time, before you fall into a state of half-sleep, half-lucidity.
"So... What about the running of the leaves?" Braeburn asks.
"Let somepony else take care of it," Mac grunts.You giggle, bouncing on his chest a little.
"Come on boys," you say. "We might as well take care of it now so we can fuck more later."
"Ah, yes, I remember my first time," Braeburn mused.
"We've created a monster," Big Mac grumbled sleepily.
"No, you killed a demon."
