Keepin' Your Heart a Soarin'

You feel feathers nestling themselves up around your shoulders, tickling ever so slightly. You take in a little breath, loving that scent. You sense little drippy bits of the sheets under you, still wet from last night, and you start to jerk around. You slide over to a drier part of the bed, eyes glaring up at the blank ceiling above you.

You can sense Soarin' right there beside you, breathing softly as he clings to sleep. You don't even need to look over. That feeling somehow sends your heart a soaring-- now, for once in your life, you just might have that absolute dependably of knowing someone is there to care about you.

"What the hell time is it," you mutter, rubbing your eyes and then the whole rest of your face. The tiny black clock on the wall reads 1:13 PM, making you shudder. "God damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" You stand up, suddenly realizing that you're in your birthday suit.

You leave Soarin' sleeping, figuring that you'll explain things to him when you get back on your bearings, and you make your way into the living room. Where... where... come on, where the hell are his scrolls! You eye an upturned box at the corner of the room next to a shattered picture, and you head over, suddenly careful not to step on any crinkles of glass. You pick up a pen and scroll, sighing.

{ Dear McDougal,

I sincerely apologize for missing work today. I'm more than able to make up for this in the future, with longer shifts taking in the missed hours. My neighbor, Soarin'...

You pause. Oh, Praise Celestia, what am I supposed to say? I need to report that bitch. I need to tell somebody. You hear Soarin' shifting around in his bed. Well, maybe not. She's gone for good, or so he said. And who's the say that I can trust the Canterlot justice system, or whatever the hell they have here. I doubt juries would believe a human, honestly, with the attitudes in this town. Not to mention that Soarin' isn't credible and Clover's a rich bitch. Golden rule: the gold makes the rules. Or maybe not. Isn't this pastel colored world supposed to be "perfect"?

Soarin' curls about on his bed, hooves gently clopping against the floor. You find your train of thought crashing. Oh, dammit, it's not like this has ANYTHING to do with poor Mr. McDougal. You move the pen along the scroll. "Well, I guess I..."

*Click!*

You accidentally hit the 'send' button at the tip of the scroll. You make an angry moan. You know that most ponies send those off with their own magic rather than built-in scroll magic, all of this something that you barely understand in the first place. You hear the pegasus walking over behind you. You turn around, and you gaze at his content smile. You smile back.

He moves over to you, a hoof out. You whisper under your breath to yourself, "Oh, hell-- I don't care if I get in troub--"

*Flash!*

A scroll smacks you upside the head, knocking you right into Soarin's hooves. He keels over, and the two of you find yourself up against the couch. He reaches for the new scroll.

"Uh, good morning," he says, letting out a chuckle as he gives it over. You open it up.

{ Dear Sir or Madam,

Your message has been discontinued for the following reason:

Leaf Erickmare Greensville Day / LEG Day / Leaf Erickmare Day

Given official royal Canterlot policy:

Holiday Code 1120a; Subsection Protocol 24

And please note:

Business acitivies are closed today as per Canterlot regulations.

We apologize for the failure of delivery.

Sincerely yours,

Casanova Frankenstein, the Mailer Demon }

You marvel at the image of a thick flaming skull impaled with two knives through the eye holes, the disturbing 'Mailer Demon' icon that you've only seen once before. Oh, holy geez, I wonder what that pony looks like. I'm sure he's all black with all red hair, maybe even one of those "secret alicorns" everypony gossips about. And who the hell is "Leaf Erickmare"? You suddenly freeze. Wait a moment... "No work!" You leap up, dancing a quick jig.

Soarin' simply watches your little scene. As you stop, turning over to him, he simply says, "Ready for our date, sweetheart?"

You nod, running your fingers in the air.

"Right," he mutters. He sniffs himself and touches his nose against your chest. "Of course, we'll freshen up first."

You watch him heading over to the shower, and you grin. You feel pretty spent for the moment, waking up with a thick wood for the first time in weeks, but you know Soarin' has something fun in mind. He turns on the water, and you get in right besides him. He motions over backward, his wings sticking up straight.

I wonder how sensitive pegasii really are in these things? Probably loaded with nerve endings, or something. Your fingers make little circles around his feathers. You wonder if you're doing it right, but as soon as your hands reach the ends of his wings, he screams out in pleasure. You make a happy sigh, and you keep on going.

Shampoo and soap flow over you both, still trying to make things as functional as well as naughty. You're surprised how you both feel pretty limp downstairs, but you find yourself not really caring. He shifts back his front hooves, and your hands shimmy along them as well as stroke the tips. He almost bites his lip, legs trembling. You almost worry that he'll collapse on you, but that somehow makes you massage the ends of his hooves even more.

He finally lets out a torrent of moans, and he slides down against your chest and belly. You switch off the water as you sit down, letting him sit on your lap. You cradle him close, rubbing his mane along your face as you kiss his neck. You know it probably looks as cheesy of a scene as a romance novel cover.

He surprises you by getting up and clutching a towel. His stomach grumbles so much that you can see it along his belly, and you figure that it's time to seriously get ready for the day. You wave and nod as you lean the door open. Nopony's around, so you can make the quick dash to your next-door apartment for your own stuff.

Of course, he'll be wearing nothing more than a simple vest-- looking like a third of the Wonderbolt's outfit-- and you might be able to get away with bouncing about naked in Canterlot. Still, it feels too damn weird. You quickly brush your teeth, comb your heart, put on deodorant, and throw on a simple blue shirt with matching pants. You open your front door to see that angelic looking pegasus standing there, leaning up against the metal pole behind him so smugly.

You walk down the stairs with him, rubbing together pretty close. You thank goodness that ponies and humans are so close in size. That just might be why Celestia let's them bonk without putting somepony in jail. You wonder about griffins, dragons, and the like. They're supposed to visit Canterlot constantly, many of them living there even, but you've only ever seen one dragon, an adolescent one named Spike, in your entire life.

Soarin' seems to just watch you closely. You know that he's expecting you to say something romantic or something friendly, and you cringe inside. Your success with these kinds of social small talk is the reason why you can count your exes on one hand. "So, Soarin'," you mutter, a hand going through your hair. He makes an odd expression, almost like jealously. You instinctly move your hand down over to his shoulder, brushing up against his mane. He looks happier, and you go aheand stroke inside his mane as you keep walking.

Mane, wings, and hooftips... those are the key spots. You try to think back to that CD and DVD that your little sister used to love so much, A Very Minty Christmas, and you wonder. Didn't they something about brushing manes being the best thing ever? Or something. It's tea parties, mane-brushing, musical numbers, and other girly saccharine stuff all the way through. You've given up long ago trying to connect the world of ponies you're in with the Donny Osmond-style shows you were a least a bit little familiar with back on earth. It's all too damn different!

"Ahem," Soarin' says, snapping your out of your thoughts. You see Colgate's place up ahead, right besides a huge office park. You make your way to the door. The restaurant looks pretty anodyne in grey and white, reminding you of once of those science fiction movies where Schwarzenegger fights Martians or something, but you know that Colgate's frachise has to get her some serious bits.

"So," Soarin' comments, clearly trying to get you to say something back rather than just reflect, "How has work been going?"

"Frustrating as anything," you reply, "don't even get me started." You mentally kick yourself with that last phrase, seeing that Soarin' has interpreted it as a rebuke. Dammit! We've already fast-forwarded to the post-first date sex, and the first date had to work!

"Oh, that's a odd thing," Soarin' remarks, a hoof picking up a sigh upon the diner door.

{ Sorry, but we'll be right back!
Just minutes or less, promise!
= Colgate *hugs* }

"You know what," you say, hands rubbing up along your cheeks, "I've never once seen them put up that sigh before. Ever. It's been gathering dust besides the Whack-A-Parasprite game for months." What the hell is going on? You shrug. "Well, maybe we--"

You freeze mid-sentence as Soarin' accientally pulls the sigh right off the door. He blushes, and he tries to press it back up into place. A white magical aura around the sigh seems to tickle Soarin's sides, and he pushes harder.

*Squeek!*

The door suddenly opens, leaving Soarin' pressing against thin air. He falls flat on his face.

"Well, that's odd that she put that up and didn't lock it," you say. Is there something wrong?

Soarin' pops back up into place, and he comments, "Maybe we should just wait outside."

"Nah, I need the A/C," you say, and you step in. "Besides, it's not like she'll care. Just five minutes, anyways." I wonder what she needed the sudden break for?

Soarin' and you look around for a second. The lights automatically turn on as you make your way through the fancy dark grey booths with little mini-jukeboxes besides them. The very modernist sort of style, from the big blocky things on the walls to the torrents of small fans stretching around, always impressed you, or at least looked cool somehow.

"What was that?" Soarin' freezes in place, ears perking.

"What was what?" you ask back. The pegasus frown, his eyes narrowing. He side-steps into an employee access door. You follow, wondering what on earth the pony's sensitive ears picked up. "Well?"

"It's so odd. It's like squishing almost, but then shuffling." He taps a hoof against his chin.

"Squishing?" You strain to pick up something, anything. "Seriously, I think--"

*Bang!*

You leap up as you hear some heavy box hit the floor in the room right in front of you. Soarin' slides over to your side. Without even thinking, you reach forwards and push the door open, left totally ajar as well. You see nothing but a wall of boxes.

"Still used to those loose griffon whores? You'd better last this time! Oh, you wimp! Harder!" Colgate screams, her hooves clopping hard upon the floor. She lets out a loud squeal.

You and Soarin' silently step up and to the left, looking out into the rest of the room. There's another pile of boxes atop two small tables, and you both duck to see what's going on.

"Rut me! I said rut me! Rutting!" Colgate calls out, head tossing side to side. Your eyes open wide as you see the blue and gray unicorn propped up atop bags and bags of potatoes with something like white sugary cake frosting going across her chest, belly, and hooves. Her horn drips with thick blue magical goo onto the floor besides her, her face clenched in pure passion. "Move, you! Move!"

You hear a huge squawk, and you shift your head deeper under the table, trying to pick up the rest of the scene. Your eyes grow wide as dinner plates. You feel Soarin' nestling himself right besides you, letting out a gasp.

A very tall and very skinny griffin, body half like a lion and half like an eagle, steps a little bit backward and perches himself over Colgate. He pants hard, his huge emerald green eyes almost pulsing, and he puts a claw through his fluffy white features along his neck and head. He's got a funny kind of feathery tuft right on top of his head, almost like a mohawk but angled to the left side, that has pink frosting oozling over it. Spots of frosting and smashed cake bits litter all over the rest of his fur.

"You're taking me, right now," Colgate orders, hooves rubbing up and down along the griffon's chest. "Rut me like I'm your own mare, own mare for life, Scamper! Her eyes seem to burn into his face.

He makes a set of weak chirps before pressing himself forwards. Your eyes curl around Scamper's body from his back paws and wiggling tail to his throbbing griffonhood. He nudges it down along her puffy pink slit, soaking wet with caked on bits of blue and white sweets, and he groans.

"Faster, you dweeb!" She smacks her legs into his, pulling him into her embrace. You see Scamper thrusting inside of her once more, beads of sweet pooling up over his face. He makes a loud sqwuak followed by more of a weak whimper, and his lion-like hips start pumping her.

"C-C-colgate, s-sweetie, I'm c-close," he mutters, his front claws gripping Colgate's shoulders tightly as his face rubs up into her mane. His thrusts move in a deep rhythmi, jolts of sheer pleasure coursing through his body and making his face erupt with joy. Tears dot under his eyes. "Colgate! I'm!" He pants even quicker.

She's smacking him again and again with all four of her hooves, somehow managing to pump him even farther in. You see her head tossing about, tounge flipping up and down, with her brains boiling from the nirvana. The frosting rubs from body to body, Scamper's feathers coating all across her chest and belly.

"HARDER, SCAMPER! HARDER!" She slams her head behind her, hooves shivering from the intense emotions, and she shoots upwards. She bites against his chest, mouth filling with feathers. Scamper makes a half-scream, voice seeming to crack.

He leans out, just the tip of his griffonhood stuck inside of Colgate, and her magical arua starts to wrap around his back. He lets out a surprsed moan as he's shoved forwards into her once more. His wings wrap up around her shoulders, her mane interminxing with his feathers perfectly, and somehow he manages to fit even ever more snugly than before.

Colgate's face contorts, making huge gasps. Scamper starts building up a low moan that turns into a loud groan and finally a sheer scream. He suddenly slides his head over to hers, both their bodies trembling. Amazingly pleasure erupts along their sides like being struck by lightening.

"I'm going!" Scamper calls out. "I'm going right into your womb..."

"You'd better cum," Colgate declares, her magical aura now flowing all around their bodies. "And you'd better cum a lot!" She grinds her teeth, eyes focused with hormones melting all her senses. "So much that I'll-- I'll-- I'll have your eggs!" She goes to pure panting.

"Oh yeah, all my eggs... filling up your womb..." groans Scamper, sweat pouring off of his face, "I'm so bucking happy... having eggs with you..."

"And you're mine forever!" She pounds him mercilessly with her hooves, so close to the line. "Fill me up! Go, you dweeb! You're never having griffins again!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" Scamper hollers at the top of his lungs, your hands instinctively going to your eyes. You see him smashing his paws against the floor tiles, starting to crack them.

"OH CELESTIA YES!" Coltage screams, her horn exploding like a fountain with thick blue magical creamy pouring across their bodies as well as the floor.

You see endless waves of pleasure slamming into their minds, their faces locked in sheer emotion. They meet in a passionate embrace before their bodies slide down, Scamper's wings retracting. They soon find themselves desperately gasping for breath, a weird mix of frosting, cake batter, feathers, sweat, and fur scattered across the kitchen around them. Colgate kicks against the ground, now with her cum-soaked vulva-- the dripping white and pink flesh looking unbelievably hot against her quivering blue fur around it-- facing you and Soarin'. Soarin' nudges forwards for a better look, wings suddenly smacking the table legs.

*Crash!*

You hear the boxes tumbling around you, Soarin' shooting over to your side. You feel something like an out of body experience-- going from your hiding spot to in the middle of the bare floor. The lovebirds, still totally weak, lock eyes with you. You then see them glaring off at Soarin', his cheeks turning so red that you almost expect him to pass out.

"Well..." you mutter. You take a deep breath. "Hi."

"Hi," Soarin' repeats.

You twiddle your thumbs. Come on, then, say something! Dammit! "What... are you guys... doing?" you ask. You feel like slamming your face against the floor a second later, saying something so stupid.

A painful twenty seconds of silence passes.

"Soooooooooo, uh," Colgate says, tossing over onto her stomach and looking at you. She awkwardly ambles herself onto her feet, "w-would y-you like to t-try our p-potato soup special today?"

You nod sheepishly, as does Soarin'.

"Right," she says, standing up straight and muttering some quick spells. She glances over at her boyfriend, leaning awkwardly against a refrigerator. "Oh... uh... this is Scamper."

You look over at the griffin, his rod stick poking erect into the air. You feel surprised at how human-like it looks, although it's not like you've ever seen one of his kind before. He looks so embarrassed that he probably wishes he could just lock himself into the refrigerator and never come out. "S-s-sup," he mutters, meekly holding up a claw.

"Thank goodness," Soarin' mutters. You both move back out of the room and head towards a booth right besides the kitchen.

"Thanks for what?"

"I thought that they'd reply to you with some kind of food-realted sex-pun," he responds, "Something like: 'He was just buttering my muffin.' Or: 'He was just frosting my cupcake.'" You cringe. "Or: 'He was just skewering my kebab.' Or: He was just basting my--"

You gently slap him on the shoulder.

"Oh," he mutters, "sorry..."

To Be Continued...