Derpy Writes Erotic Poetry; Twilight Gets to Deal With It

"Look Derpy, almost all of Ponyville loves you. We know you don't always think quite straight, but you're one of the sweetest and kindest mares I know, with a beautiful love of living. That's pretty awesome, really. Unfortunately, I don't think you're cut out to write rhyming poetry--or, well, at least not yet. The content has potential. It's the structure of this poem that's really a pussy-drier for me; that's why I stopped prematurely. Would you like me to tell where I think you need to improve?"

"Oh, that would be wonderful!" the gray mare replied, trotting in place excitedly.

"Okay, well first of all, you need to go into more detail. Like for example, Heather, taped to the ceiling, getting pegged with a dildo? That's hot stuff. But it's already over after a stanza and a half. You have to engage your readers with longer descriptions. Tell us about the noises she was making. How long did this go on? What did Twilight, I mean 'I' get out of it? Sex is a very intense experience, and so your description should be too. I'm sure you've heard about using all six senses. Be descriptive. Now, I could tell that sometimes, the rhyming was making it hard for you to say what you wanted to say. I'll come back to that in a minute.

"The next thing I want to to talk about is meter. Meter is, to put it simply, the flow of the poem. This poem's meter however, is all over the place; you use different word stresses and number of syllables in every line. That makes it very hard to read in a smooth consistent manner, pulling the reader out of immersion. Literature is all about immersion. I have a few books on meter and prosody you can borrow if you like to help you out, but I actually don't think you should, which I'll explain in a second.

"As I said before, your poem seems to suffer from being forced to rhyme. For example, Cadance getting high and Rarity getting drunk had little to do with the sex, and I suspect they were thrown in only to complete rhymes."

Derpy looked down sadly. "Yeah, pretty much."

Twilight patted her on the shoulder with a wing. "It's okay. Rhyming can do that to you. You're forced to compromise your vision. That's why I'm an advocate of giving up rhyming, and going free verse."

"Free verse?"

"Yeah, free verse. When you aren't trying to fit a meter, the fact that there isn't one becomes less distracting, and you don't have to force awkward rhymes into your poem."

"Oh, wow, thank you so much for helping me Princess! And you're not offended by me writing about you and your friends having sex?"

Twilight giggled. "Please. This is vanilla. Last week Rainbow made me read a story involving the Wonderbolts, pie, and urethral sounding. That didn't go over so well. Anyway, let me show you something." Twilight trotted over to a locked cabinet and magicked it open. Inside were dozen of papers stacked upon each other. Twilight pulled one out and began to read it.

I tenderly run my hoof against her dugs, tantalizing her, generating sharp icy gasps of arousal.
She flares her wings out, driven by the lusty passions I awaken in her heart and loins.
I too am wet, and my acrid juices drift across her nostrils, leading her to say:
"Fuck me, my sweet lover. I want you. I need you. Please, take me now."

Derpy raised her eyebrows, impressed. "And you have more like this?"

Twilight blushed, flicking her ears back. "Well, yeah. It's kind of one of the many hobbies of mine. Collecting them that is. Definitely not writing."

Derpy scanned the juicy missive. She noticed something at the top had been redacted. Very poorly too; more like scribbled out. "Dear...Princess Celestia?" the mailmare read aloud. There was more crossed out below: "I wrote you a... kind of hard to read, but I think that's poem about us. I hope...I can't read this part and that you like, maybe? it." The lightbulb clicked on. "Ohhhhh, this is a letter to the princess, your mentor, your... you have a crush on Celestia!" she declared proudly.

Twilight gasped, puffing out her cheeks and covering her mouth with a hoof. "No! You're not supposed to know that. That's top secret. Please, give me that back."

Derpy held the parchment away from the librarian. "Twilight, this is great! This is right up my alley. This is my other hobby you know."

Twilight was sweating oceans. "Um, holding papers away from ponies that need them?"

Derpy smirked. "Nope. Get educated, filly. Five days a week, I deliver letters and packages, but on the weekends, I ship."

"Buh?" was all that managed to drip out of Twilight's mouth.

Fortunately, the awkward silence was shooed away by Spike entering the room. "Oh, hi Derpy. Thanks for fixing me up with Sweetie!"

Twilight continued to stand there with a look of horror on her face. "I... am so confused... and, um..." She snapped out of it. "Wait, what? Uh, Spike aren't you and Sweetie both a bit young for dating?" Twilight asked, growing annoyed at this onslaught of strange information.

"Yeah," Spike replied, deflated. "The date's not for two and a half years."

Derpy had used this distraction to steal the rest of the papers from the cabinet and stuffed them in a manila folder. "Oh, Spike!" she sang-songed.

Twilight gasped. "No! Don't! Don't you dare." It was too late. In a move of unusual grace, Derpy threw the folder to Spike, who lit it up in a ball of green flame.

Twilight looked like she was about to cry. She turned to Spike and Derpy. "You monsters," she mouthed angrily. "Derpy, that was my private cabinet. I showed you that out of trust. And Spike, you promised
to keep my crush a secret. Now Celestia is probably going to disown me as a mentor and a princess and and and..."

Before she could wallow anymore, Spike clutched his stomach and burped out what looked to be a note hastily scrawled on scratch paper.

You. Me. ~~Fuck. Now.~~ Let's sit down and discuss this interesting new revelation. Meet me at the castle.

~Celestia

Twilight stared at the missive in her hoof, slack jawed and flabbergasted. "Did... Did you just set me up on a date... with Celestia?"

Derpy lowered her upside down glasses. "Shippers gonna ship."