The Exile and the DJ

Most ponies have some sort of heartfelt story to tell when it comes to the time they fell in love with their significant other. Perhaps they were foalhood sweethearts who, over the years, developed special feelings for each other, or maybe they were adults at the library, and as they reached for the same book, their hands touched, their eyes met, and it was love at first sight. Yeah, there are many stories out there, and no matter what, they’re almost always sweet. Not mine though. Well, not in the traditional sense.

The first time I met the mare who would one day become my wife, I was twenty three years old, living in a borough of Manehatten, in a dump of an apartment above an even more dump of a pub called The Rusty Horseshoe that my uncle, Zera, owned, and where I worked as a bartender. It was very late on a Thursday night, and I was washing the last of the dirty glasses left behind by the old stallions who came in every night, and sat at the far side of the bar from the end of the workday until closing time, silently trying to drown whatever troubles they had in a bottle of scotch. The only sound that met my ears other than the squeaking of the glass as I cleaned it with my rag was the heavy pattering of rain against the windows, and glass front door.

Rain. I hated the rain. Just the sound of it was enough to make the old scars on my back ache with the pains of the past. They were from a life that no longer concerned me, or my otherwise happy existence in Manehatten, but when it rained, everything came rushing back, and I could feel the knife in my back, and the hatred of the one who had given me the old wounds.

As soon as I put the final tumbler on the rack to dry, there came a knock at the locked front door.

“We’re closed,” I called, without even checking to see who it could be at this hour.

A few seconds passed, and I thought whoever it was had left, but sure enough they knocked again. This time I looked up, and in the harsh red light of the neon sign that hung over the door, I saw a slender mare wearing a black tank top, skin tight jeans, high top sneakers, and most surprisingly, a pair of black sunglasses. Not exactly what one would consider appropriate clothing for a stormy night.

“Hey, open the fucking door,” she yelled, pounding on the glass even harder to get my attention, “Come on. It’s raining, and I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

For a moment, I hesitated; I wanted nothing more than to finish cleaning up, before going back up to my apartment, and collapsing on my bed, but I couldn't just leave that mare out in the rain. So I made my way over to the door, and turned the bolt lock just above the handle.

“About fucking time,” she said, as she stepped inside, shook the rain from her short mane of cobalt and cyan blue hair, and walked over to the bar.

“You’re welcome,” I said, trying to sound polite, as I went back to my spot behind the bar. “Look, I was just about to lock up, but if you make it quick, I suppose I could get you someth-”

“Whisky.” She pulled a plastic ID card for the Manehatten College for the Arts out of her back pocket, and shoved it in my face. Vinyl Scratch, it said, with a birthdate that told me she was twenty one years old. "Strongest stuff you've got," she said.

“Shot, or a glass?”

I blushed slightly, as the mare reached a hand down the front of her shirt, and fished out a brown satchel, which had hung from a string around her neck, and tossed it onto the counter.

“Just leave the bottle.”

I stared at Vinyl, perplexed. A whole bottle? I thought.

“Uh miss, don't you think that might be a little much for you? I mean, wouldn’t you rather-”

“I didn’t ask for your fucking opinion, did I?”

Even though she was wearing dark sunglasses that hid her eyes, I could tell that she was giving me some kind of a death glare. Seeing as there wasn’t going to be any dissuading her, I sighed, as I ducked under the counter, grabbed an unopened bottle of Old Mustang Whisky, and placed it on the counter, swapping it for the little bag of bits.

After I counted out the money, and placed the ten bits in the register, I poured the rest into her purse, and gave it back to Vinyl.

“I’ve never seen you in here before,” I said, my bartender’s instinct to make small talk kicking in. “You new in town, or something? You got any troubles you want to talk about?”

Vinyl took a long draw of whisky, then set the bottle down hard.

“What do you want, my fucking life story? Just... Just shut up, and let me drink.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.” I tried not to show it, but I was beginning to feel a bit irritated with this mare. “It’s just that when somepony comes in this late, orders an entire bottle of whisky for herself, and starts downing it like it’s the last ration of water in the desert, she usually has some sort of problem that she’s trying to deal with.”

The only answer I got was a swift flick of her soaking wet tail, which just missed splashing water all over my face.

"Oops, sorry," she said rather dully.

A sudden shiver coursed through the mare’s drenched body. Remembering my manners, I bent down, and grabbed a clean, white dish towel from a shelf under the counter, and held it out to her.

“Here,” I said, “it’s not much, but-”

“Thanks,” she said, as she took it, and began drying herself off as well as she could.

“No problem.”

As she wiped the water from her coat, I risked taking my first good look at Vinyl Scratch; she was a short mare, about a head shorter than me, with a slender build, and small, yet nicely formed breasts that clung to the wet fabric of her shirt.

"See something you like?"

I quickly averted my gaze when I realized that I'd been caught staring.

For the first time since she walked in, Vinyl took off her sunglasses, revealing a pair of beautiful, bright, magenta eyes, that shone through the hazy air of the bar.

"Sorry," I said, feeling rather embarrassed, “we, uh, don’t get a whole lot of mares in this place.”

Vinyl just rolled her eyes at me, and muttered the words "dumb ass" just loud enough for me to hear, before breathing on her lenses, and carefully wiping away the condensation. When she was done, she took a minute to examine them to make sure they were clean, then out of nowhere, she grabbed her sunglasses in both hands, and bent them until they snapped in two.

"Fucking piece of shit," she mumbled, as she threw the pieces on the floor, and proceeded to stomp on them, until there was nothing left but large shattered bits of plastic and tinted glass. For a moment she just stared at the mess she made, huffing with rage, and I saw what I believed to be a tear streak down her cheek, which she quickly wiped away.

"Don’t worry about the mess, I'll pick it up before I go," she said, noticing that I had been watching her curiously.

Before I could say anything, she threw the wet towel at my head, and returned to her bottle. After a few minutes, Vinyl looked me up and down, as if measuring me up.

"What’s your name?" She asked, her words coming out a little slurred.

“It’s, uh…” I hesitated; most ponies laughed at my name because it wasn't exactly a traditional pony one. I’d thought of changing it to something a little more normal when I first moved to Manehatten, but my uncle told me to keep it, saying that it was a reminder of who I was. “My name’s Zander.”

Vinyl sputtered her drink, then broke out in a wild fit of laughter.

“Zander? What a stupid fucking name.”

This mare was growing more irksome by the minute. Granted I didn’t like the name Zander all that much myself, but it was the name that I was given, and I was stuck with it. Who was she to make fun of it?

“Zander.” She suddenly started repeating it over and over, with a thoughtful look in her eyes, as if she was trying to decipher some sort of special meaning behind my name. “Zander. That sounds like a zebra name.”

I was stunned; not many ponies had been able to figure that out so quickly.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I dated a zebra once. Zane. Nice guy. Bit of an idiot jock, but he certainly knew how to please a mare.” She took another sip of whisky. “You don’t exactly look like a zebra, Zander. Last time I checked, zebra’s didn’t have horns, and were a bit more, you know, stripy.”

I touched the horn that protruded from my forehead, suddenly feeling self-conscious of its existence.

“I, uh, I’m a tenth generation zebracorn on my mother’s side. We all have both unicorn horns, and str-” The scars on my back began to flare again. I hated thinking about the past; it brought up way too many painful memories, so I decided to change the subject fast, before I ended up delving further into my own life.

"- Ahem - So what brings you here?" I asked her again.

Vinyl glared at me.

“Don’t change the subject,” she snided.

"Hey, I told you a bit about myself, so the least you could do is return the courtesy."

Vinyl sighed, and stared at her bottle, debating on whether or not she should drink some more.

"Fine, if it’s that fucking important to you, I'm here because I caught my coltfriend - sorry, ex-coltfriend - with his cock buried in another mare’s throat.” She paused for a moment, and looked back at the floor, and brought her foot back down on the broken sunglasses with another heavy crunch. “We were at this club across town that I DJ at to make some extra money for school. When my set was over, I walked all over the dancefloor looking for him, but the fucker wasn’t there. You know where I found him? That son of a bitch was in the back room, leaning against the wall, moaning like a fucking idiot, while some blonde maned hussy was kneeling on the floor, gagging, with her snout pressed against his pelvis.”

She let out a loud groan, and began furiously running her fingers through her thick, blue locks, as if trying to scratch the image from her memory.

“Anyway, after a heated argument which ended with him probably having to wear a cast on his left arm for a couple of months, I decided I should get as far away as possible before I did anything that I was really going to regret.” Vinyl picked up her bottle, raised it to her lips, but set it back down, and started laughing. “You know what the real kicker is? That fuck told me that he didn’t think that we were really in a serious relationship. Can you believe that? He actually thought of me as just some sort of mare that he could call up for a booty call.” This time Vinyl actually drank, only setting the bottle down when there was about half of it left. “I mean, yeah, a couple of years ago I might not have cared; hell, I probably would have already moved on to the next stallion. But now I...I just want…s-something more s-stable...” A huge wave of drunken tears began to stream down her face, and I began to wonder, maybe her ex might not have been her real issue; it was only the apple that overturned her cart. As if to confirm my assumption, she looked at me and said; “Celestia, I just wish my life wasn’t so fucked up.”

“There’s something we have in common,” I muttered, picking up a glass, and pouring myself a little whisky out of Vinyl’s bottle, and downing it quickly. I coughed as the hot liquid made its way to my stomach; I wasn’t that much of a drinker, but this sudden rush of memories that had begun to fill my head the moment the rain had started needed to be dulled somehow. And Vinyl’s complaining wasn’t helping anything.

“Oh yeah?” Vinyl asked, giving me a sarcastic smile. “Did your parents ever threaten to kick you out of the house when you were fifteen because you snuck out of the house for the fifth time to go out with somepony they thought was a bad influence? Do you have a brother who won’t talk to you because, despite your hardest efforts to get along, you always end up doing something to make his life a living hell? Did somepony you thought loved you cheat on you because they thought that you weren’t in a ‘serious relationship?’ Let me tell you something bub, there can’t be anything in your life that is as fucked up as some of the shit that I’ve been through.”

I didn’t answer her. Well, not verbally anyway. Slowly, I turned around, and grabbed the bottom of my shirt, but stopped as I began to lift it up. What the hell do you think you’re doing, I thought to myself, why are you showing this mare? You don’t know her. She doesn’t have any right to see. But something drew my hands upwards, and I pulled my shirt over my head, revealing the several long, sickly pink gashes that covered the grayish, white coat on my back.

“Sweet Celestia,” Vinyl gasped. “What the fuck happened to you?”

“This is what happens when a zebracorn is banished from their family.” I took a deep breath; I’d never shown anypony my scars before, at least not voluntarily. It made me feel naked, like the whole world was looking at what I tried so hard to hide. “I grew up in a small town, just outside of the Everfree Forest with my mother, brother, and father. Now, my mother was a very strict mare. When I was growing up, she would take my little brother, Zia and I into the Everfree Forest to pass the knowledge of our ancestors down to us. She would teach us magic, zebracorn history, different types of plants and herbs, and how they were useful, and how to brew many different potions. When we did well, she would shower us with praise, but if we failed to meet her expectations, she’d punish us.

“My brother, he was a model student, paying close attention to everything mother told us, and obeying her commands without question. I, on the other hand, spent most of my time goofing off, chasing animals through the forest, and playing pranks on my brother. Needless to say I was punished a lot. Everyday actually. My mother didn’t exactly find slipping poison joke into Zia’s tea, tunring his stripes bright blue all that funny.”

Vinyl clearly had more of a sense of humor than my mother because she broke down in laughter when I mentioned my practical joke. I couldn’t help but crack a smile myself.

“Yeah, that was an old favorite of mine. I actually became so adept at using poison joke, that I have it as my cutie mark. My mother, of course, was very disappointed about that.”

“Why?” Vinyl asked. “What’s wrong with a poison joke cutie mark?”

“Serious potion makers would never use poison joke; they don’t think it has any practical uses. So once the blue flower appeared on my flanks, she realized that I was never going to take her place as the head of the family.” I winced, as the memories sent a searing pain through each of my scars. “She didn’t really talk to me much after that, pretty much gave up trying to teach me any more lessons, didn’t show me any form of love of any kind. Not that I remember her really ever showing me any in the first place.”

“Just because you didn’t live up to her expectations?” Vinyl looked appalled. “Fuck, dude, that’s so stupid. What kind of mother would stop caring for her child just because he liked having a little fun?”

“The kind who is also the proud daughter of one of the oldest zebracorn families in Equestria. If her eldest child can’t follow in her footsteps, then it not only reflects badly on her, but on her entire family.”

“I still think it’s fucked up. I mean didn’t your dad ever do anything to try and stop her?”

I shook my head disdainfully.

“Don’t get me wrong, my father was a nice stallion, always telling me and my brother bedtime stories, and laughing at all of my jokes, but he knew his place in our family. He might have been our father, but he was only a unicorn, and since Zia and I were born with stripes, he had no say in how our mother raised us.”

I poured myself more whisky, and downed it in one gulp. Why am I telling Vinyl any of this? After thirteen years of silence, why now? Why this mare?

“On my tenth birthday,” I continued, feeling myself choke up for the first time in many years, “my mother actually started acting nice towards me. Like, actually nice, not just her typical ‘you did a good job today so I won’t punish you’ brand of niceness. She took me into town, bought me some ice cream, and a new toy, just like any mother would do for her colt on his birthday. It was the happiest day of my life. Little did I know that it was also going to be my worst.

“On our way back, it began to rain, so we took each others hands and started running back so we wouldn’t get too wet. When we reached the house, instead of heading inside, my mother took me out back, telling me that there was one more surprise that she had waiting for me. Too overcome with youthful excitement and ignorance to ask what it could be, I ran around the house, and found Zia sitting on the ground next to a large stone slab. Before I could ask my mother what my surprise was, she tore my clothes off, and magically bound me face down on to the stone, so I couldn’t move. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t break free. I strained to look up at her, begged her to let me go, but she only stared at me with cold eyes.

“That was when my brother handed my mother a black cloak, which she put on, and removed the dagger that she used for cutting up herbs from her belt. ‘Zander,’ she told me, ‘you have brought great shame to this family. I have thought long and hard as to how I should deal with you, and have come to the conclusion that you are no longer fit to call yourself a zebracorn.’” I felt myself begin to waver, and for the first time since my first year in Manehatten, I felt tears begin to drip down my face. “That’s when she dug the edge of her blade into my back, and carved the stripes out of my flesh. Each time she removed a chunk of skin, she would cover the exposed area with a healing balm to make sure I didn’t lose too much blood. She didn’t want me to die, but she did want me to suffer for not being the son she always wanted.

"For thirty agonizing minutes I laid there begging her to stop, but my pleas fell on deaf ears. I cried out to my father for help, but he wasn’t there; my mother knew that he would have been foolish enough to interfere with the ritual, so she had sent him on an errand to make sure that he wouldn’t be around. After what felt like an eternity of pain, it was over. My mother untied me, but I couldn’t move; I was in so much pain. ‘Tonight,' she told me, ‘you will board a train for Manehatten, where you will live the rest of your your days with my brother, Zera. From this day on, you are an exile, and are forbidden from ever setting foot here ever again. Have I made myself clear?’ I couldn’t do anything but whimper, as I nodded my understanding.

“Since that day, I’ve been living here with my uncle, working part time at his bar, going to school, trying blend in with the other ponies. It’s been hard, but it’s definitely a lot better than the life that I could have had if I had stayed at home.”

Silence fell over the bar, as I finished my story. I looked at Vinyl; her face was a mixture of sadness, and disgust. That was why I never showed anypony my scars, or brought up my past. No pony but another outcast could understand the pain that I’d endured.

Suddenly, Vinyl grabbed hold of her bottle, and shoved it in my face.

“Here,” she said, “you need this more than I do.”

I chuckled, as I took it from her, and poured myself another drink.

"No offense, but your mother sounds like a total bitch."

I choked on my whisky; for some reason I thought that was the funniest thing I had ever heard.

"Yeah, I guess she was, wasn't she."

Vinyl clinked her bottle against my glasses, and we both smiled before taking a long drink.

For the longest time Vinyl and I didn't say anything; there wasn't anything to say. Both of us had just opened up to a complete stranger about problems that we'd never been able to tell the ponies closest to us, and it was going to be a while before we recovered. I risked looking Vinyl Scratch in the eyes, and was happy to find that she no longer looked upset, although her face still held traces of grief that had been held back for far too long.

"Do you ever wish you could just, you know, take it all back, and make your mother proud?"

I shook my head.

"No," I said. “I mean sure, back when I first moved to Manehatten, I would have given anything to go back home, but my uncle helped me to realize that I'm far better off here. Sure I miss my dad and Zia, but my mother, as you put it, was a total bitch." I took another swift drink to push any thoughts of my mother to the back of my mind. “The pain comes back every now and again, especially when it rains, but other than that I think I turned out alright without her."

Vinyl looked me up and down, and her gloominess morphed into a sort of cunning smile.

"I'd say you turned out more than alright," she said with a bit of a hum.

"What?" I asked, shocked by Vinyl's sudden change of mood.

"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking that I might be ready to get over my problems as well, if you’d be willing to help me."

She didn't need to say anymore; I'd seen that look enough times from other mares to know what it was that she was thinking. I quickly snatched my shirt off the floor and slid it back on. It wasn't because I was self-conscious of my body or anything (on the contrary, years of lifting kegs and other heavy objects around the pub had put me in excellent shape) I had just grown used to hiding my scars from the world. You just showed them to Vinyl, you idiot, I told myself, covering up won't make much difference now. It was true, Vinyl had already seen my scars, and she didn’t seem to mind them, but when she started getting that hungry look in her eyes, my body moved instinctively to protect its secret.

“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” she asked.

"You're drunk."

But that didn't seem to deter Vinyl. I suddenly felt the collar of my shirt snag on something, and I looked down to find it alight with a brilliant magenta aura.

"Vinyl, don't-"

She did.

In a flash, I felt myself yanked forward, and her arms wrapped around my neck tightly, pulling me towards her until our lips met.

I struggled a little at first; it was my first kiss after all. Yet the harder she pressed, the more I began to enjoy the subtle tingle that shot through my body, and before I knew it, I was reciprocating just as ferociously as she was attacking.

It might have just been the whisky affecting my judgement, but there was something that I liked about Vinyl. Sure I had found her annoying beyond belief when she had first walked in, but once she opened up, even though it was just a little, I had found myself actually starting to sympathize with her. I couldn't explain it because I’d never let myself get close to another pony before (at least, not close enough to show them my scars), but just listening to her, hearing the pain in her voice, and seeing the sympathy on her face as I told her my story just made me want to reach over the bar, hug her, and tell her that everything was alright. Kissing? That was even better.

Unfortunately our moment of bliss was over far too fast; just as I was really getting into making out with Vinyl, she suddenly pushed me away. I was about to ask her what was wrong, when her entire body lurched forward, and she quickly covered her mouth with her right hand.

"Oh shit," I said, as I made a dash for the wash bucket I had been using, quickly dumped it's contents into the nearby sink, and passed it to Vinyl just as the first wave of vomit shot out of her mouth.

The alcohol had finally caught up with her. For five minutes Vinyl sat there, hugging the bucket tightly, occasionally heaving the contents of her stomach into it.

"Fucking weak, dude," she groaned. When she was done, she slid the bucket over, and her head slumped on the counter.

"Are you gonna be alright?" I asked, tilting my head so I could look her in the eyes.

Vinyl didn't answer. I gave her shoulder a gentle shake, but all I got was a soft, irritated moan.

Guess that's a no, I thought, as I walked around the counter to the front door and locked it. Then I scooped Vinyl up, and carried her upstairs to my apartment, levitating the puke filled bucket behind me. As I drunkenly fiddled with the key in the lock to my door, Vinyl stirred in my arms, and groggily looked at me.

"Fuck's going on?" She mumbled almost inaudibly.

"You drank too much, Vinyl, so I'm going to let you sleep it off at my place."

Vinyl didn't answer at first, and for a second I'd thought she'd passed out again, but she faintly nodded her head, and her fingers gripped my shirt as hard as they could.

When we were finally in my apartment, I carried Vinyl over to the bedroom, and set her down on my bed as gently as I could, before heading to the bathroom to clean out the bucket just in case she needed it again in the night. My heart began to race, as I walked back into my bedroom; I'd never had a mare in my apartment before, so seeing a beautiful pony like Vinyl Scratch lying on my bed was a bit unnerving. What really had me feeling so anxious though, was that while I was holding Vinyl in my arms, I had quickly become aware that while her coat had been dried, her clothes were still soaked. I knew that if she didn't change into dryer clothes soon, she would catch a cold in her sleep. Of course since she was passed out, she wasn't in any position to change her clothes herself; I had to do it for her.

I dug through my dresser, and came back with a t-shirt, and sweatpants, both of which were going to be far too big for Vinyl, but it was better than her sleeping in what she had on. Slowly I extended an arm, my fingers trembling, as they reached for the bottom of Vinyl's shirt.

Maybe I shouldn't, I thought, as my hand stopped just an inch away from her, what if she wakes up in the morning, finds that she's wearing different clothes than she was when she came in here, gets upset with me for seeing her naked, or worse, what if she thinks that I took advantage of her? For a brief moment I felt like a little colt again, remembering the last time a mare was mad with me. But I shook my head, forcing those thoughts to the back of my mind where they belonged, and hooked my fingers around the straps of Vinyl's tank top, and slid them down her arms. Then I turned my attention to the bottom of her shirt, using my magic to hold her above the bed, while I pulled it up, politely averting my gaze, as I carefully lifted it over her breasts.

When Vinyl's shirt was finally off, I tossed it on the floor, and began trying to remove her jeans. The second my fingers touched the the little button that held her pants closed, I felt a soft hand on mine.

"Better let me take care of those, zebra boy," Vinyl said, as she slowly dragged my hand up the entire length of her firm stomach, placed it on her left breast, and held it there with her magic as if she knew that I would pull it away. "And for Celestia's sake, it's alright to look; you don't need to be so fucking shy."

But I didn't dare turn my head to look at her. Even as she arched her body to take her jeans off, and her chest pressed itself into my hand, I chose to be the gentlecolt, and give her some semblance of privacy. At least that's what I wanted to do, but Vinyl had other plans; as she lowered her rump back onto the bed, and tossed her jeans onto the floor with her shirt, I felt a sharp tug on my ear, forcing me to turn my head towards Vinyl.

"Jeez, what the hell did you do that f-"

Any thought I had of being a perfect gentlecolt vanished from my mind as I marveled in the beauty of Vinyl's naked body basked in the light of the street lamps that shone through my bedroom window. While she was relatively small, her body was well toned, and although she wasn't as developed as most mares her age, she still had subtle curves, the sight of which sent a rush of blood to my stallionhood. What I truly found most lovely about Vinyl’s body though, was that her light, creamy colored coat was not marred by a single pink scar. Up until now, the only pony's body I'd seen (not counting the mares in the magazines stashed under my bed) had been my own, so to me, her unmarked body was pure perfection.

I slid my hand from her breast, down the side of her torso, and behind her back, eager to feel where on my own body was rough, blemished skin. I felt an excited chill rush from my fingertips, and down my spine, as I touched nothing but silky smooth hair.

"That's it," Vinyl sighed, as my hands traveled back to her sides, and began massaging her firm muscles. "I want you to rut me, Zander. I want you to rut me hard."

My hands came to a sudden halt, and I reluctantly retracted them from her body.

"No," I said, looking Vinyl in the eyes; she looked upset.

"Why the fuck not?"

"Well, first off, we just met a couple of hours ago, and secondly, you're too drunk and upset right now; you aren't thinking clearly."

"That hasn't stopped me in the past."

She went to wrap her arms around my neck, but I backed away.

"Look, Vinyl, I like you, and I won't lie, but you are the hottest mare I've ever seen, and I'm not just saying that because you're naked right now. I just... Having sex just doesn't seem like the right thing to do right now, understand?"

But Vinyl didn't answer; she just lay there, silently. There's also the chance that you might pass out again, I thought, as I grabbed the dry clothes, and carefully dressed the now unconscious mare. Then I levitated her a few inches above the bed, pulled the blankets down, before lowering her again, and tucking her under the covers. Finally, I turned her on her side so she wouldn't choke and die if she threw up in the middle of the night.

"Good night, Vinyl Scratch," I said, as I picked up her wet clothes, and laid them out to dry on a chair near the heater, before stumbling towards the bedroom door, finding it hard to open in my slightly drunken state. I looked back one more time to make sure she was alright, then shut the door behind me.

Before flopping on the couch, and passing out myself, I went to my tiny kitchen, ran some cold water from the tap, and splashed it in my face to cool myself off from my unexpected contact with Vinyl Scratch. A lot of stallions would think I was crazy for turning down a hot, drunk mare who was asking for sex, and I had to admit that a part of me wanted to check in on her to see if she would come to again, but I quickly pushed that thought out of my mind, since I didn't want my first time to be a drunken mess with a mare fading in and out of consciousness. It's for the best, I thought, as I went back to the living room, slipped off my jeans, and plopped down on my couch.

The last thing I remembered before falling asleep was how strangely at peace I felt. My scars, they don't hurt, I thought, finding it strange that even though it was still raining just as hard as it had been when Vinyl came in, for some reason I wasn’t burdened with the burning of my old wounds. Then I smiled. Thank you Vinyl, I thought, as I turned over, and let the whisky pull me under into my first peaceful, rainy night sleep I’d had in years.

...

The first thing I noticed the next morning was the splitting head ache, and horrible churning in my stomach that rudely roused me from my slumber. I hated being hung over; it was part of the reason that I didn't drink that much.

"Here, drink this," a voice said from not too far away.

I tried to open my eyes, but had to quickly shut them again, as Celestia's unusually bright sun threatened to set my retinas on fire.

"Here." A hand reached out to mine, and pressed a coffee mug into it.

"What is this?" I asked, sitting up slowly, and taking a whiff of what I had been handed. It smelled putrid.

"Something that will help with that hangover you've got."

I hesitated for a second, but brought the mug to my lips and took a small sip. It tasted just as retched as it smelled; like somepony tried to brew coffee, with vinegar, and sour milk, using a sweaty gym sock, or a dirty diaper as a filter.

"What the fuck is in this?"

"If I told you, you probably wouldn't drink any of it. But don't worry, it's all stuff you had in your fridge, and it will get rid of your hangover; you just gotta drink it all."

I wrinkled my nose as I brought the mug to my lips again.

"Here goes nothing."

Then I upturned the mug, and began chugging the horrible beverage, trying my best not to focus on the taste, or to think what it could possibly be that I was consuming.

“You know, you’re a strange guy,” she said, as I continued to force myself to drink. “Last night you'd had a the perfect excuse to get me naked, and an open invitation to fuck me, but you said no. I mean, any stallion I've ever known wouldn’t have turned down that kind of offer. So why did you?”

I wasn't quite sure, but she almost sounded disappointed.

With one last large gulp, I downed the rest of Vinyl’s hangover cure, and risked opening my eyes again, this time finding the early sunlight much more bearable. I looked over to where my guest was sitting, fully dressed in her own clothes, looking down at me from her perch on the arm of the couch opposite me.

“I’d never take advantage of a drunk mare who just told me she had just broken up with her coltfriend; I’m more of a gentlecolt than that.”

Vinyl thought on my words for a moment, then looked at me and smiled. Not a drunken smile, or a sad, sympathetic smile, but an honest to goodness, cheerful smile. And by Celestia was she beautiful when she smiled.

"I guess you are, aren't you." Vinyl climbed off the arm of the couch, and began making her way towards me, never once breaking eye contact, then when she was lying on top of me, she leaned in, and gave me a quick kiss. Suddenly she pulled away, and her smile faded a little.

"Look, I know you must think I'm some kind of bitchy, party pony, but-"

I silenced her with another tender kiss.

"I don't think that," I said,"at least I don't anymore." Vinyl gave me a hurtful look, but I could see a hint of playfulness in her eyes.

"I'll admit that when you came in last night I thought you were rude and annoying-"

"As do most ponies when they first meet me."

"-but when you started talking about your ex, about the problems in your life-"

"Which were only a few examples."

"-I started to think that you were just like how I used to be when I first came to this city; scared, ashamed, wishing you had somepony who accepted you despite all your faults."

Vinyl sat up and gave me a thoughtful look, then suddenly broke out in a fit of laughter.

"Wow," she said between breaths, “that's one of the cheesiest fucking things I've ever heard."

I rolled my eyes. She must be feeling better, I thought, as I smiled, sat up, and kissed Vinyl. The mare seemed almost surprised, as my arms wrapped around her, and pulled her closer to me, but she had no problem responding to my advances, parting her lips, and forcefully shoving her tongue into my mouth. I hesitated a moment, remembering what she had gone through the night before, but was surprised to find that her mouth tasted very minty. As if reading my mind, Vinyl pulled away quickly.

“I used your toothbrush,” she said rather breathlessly, before attacking my muzzle once more.

I would have told her that it was fine, but Vinyl’s grip on me tightened, and her tongue dove back into my mouth, making it impossible to make any noise other than a pleasant, muffled moan. And I didn’t even care; the rough feeling of her tongue as it pressed firmly against mine, and guided me around every inch of her mouth was the most amazing thing I’d ever felt. Unfortunately, I was nowhere near as experienced as Vinyl when it came to kissing. I thought that my inability to keep up would frustrate her (she did seem like that kind of mare), but it didn’t. In fact, when I started to fall behind, she slowed her lashing about, and allowed me to take the lead.

The harder we kissed, the more aroused I became, and soon I felt my stallionhood reaching full strength, becoming uncomfortably crushed under Vinyl’s weight.

Vinyl quickly pulled away, her face red, and slightly matted with sweat, and she gave me a sly grin.

“I think it’s time to release your beast,” she said, rising up enough so she could bring a hand behind her back, into the fly of my boxers, and slip out my dick.

I let out a sharp gasp at the first touch against my rod; it was exciting to feel somepony other than myself touching me there.

“I know you said you didn’t want to fuck because we’d just met, and somehow I find myself fine with that, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a just a little bit of fun, right?”

Before I could answer, Vinyl used her free hand to push me back onto the couch, and laughed, as she used her magic on a nearby blanket, causing it to bind my hands behind my head; I was completely at her mercy.

“So what are you going to-”

Vinyl placed a finger over my lips to silence me.

“No more talking, zebra boy; we did more than enough of that last night.”

I looked into her eyes, and saw a sort of feral hunger that made me gulp, and nod nervously. What have I gotten myself into, I thought, as Vinyl repositioned herself higher on my torso so she wasn’t sitting on my dick.

“Feels like I’ve got a lot to work with back there,” she said, as her hand made itself familiar with my nether region. “Good, ‘cause I’ve got something that’s going to rock your fucking world.”

As she sat there, looking down at me with her carnal stare, I felt her hand suddenly relinquish its grip on my stallionhood. I lifted my head to see what was going on, and saw Vinyl take her tail in her hand. She then looked me very seriously in the eyes.

“I’ve got classes today, so you’d better not get this dirty, understand?”

I had no idea what she planned to do with her tail, but I nodded nonetheless.

“Good. Now don’t move while I get things set up.”

Vinyl turned around, and once again I felt her hand on my cock. But that wasn’t all; after a few seconds of fiddling around, I felt something unbelievably soft being wrapped around the base of my stallionhood, tightening as she adjusted it. So that’s what she needed her tail for, I thought, as she turned back towards me, the end of her long blue hairs held tightly in her hand.

“There,” she said, giving her tail a strong tug, squeezing my dick, and sending a sudden jolt through my body. “Now where were we? Oh yeah.” Vinyl leaned forward, wrapped her free hand behind my head, and clamped her lips around my neck.

As Vinyl gently kissed, and nibbled at the skin near my shoulder, she began rocking her hips back and forth. I’d never felt anything like it, the way her hair hugged my stallionhood, tightening and loosening at the slightest movement, sending pleasant sensations up my spine, which increased the faster she went. It wasn’t long before the mare had me moaning like I was dying, and enjoying every minute of it. And apparently so was Vinyl; despite the fact that I wasn’t doing anything to try and get her off, every so often she would let out a quiet hum, and say something like “harder, faster,” or “I want you inside me so bad.” I might have been a gentlecolt, but I couldn’t help wishing that as well.

I looked down to where Vinyl was now sucking at the base of my neck, her horn almost poking me in the nose. That’s when I had an idea; readjusting my head, I leaned forward, and placed a kiss on the tip of her horn. Vinyl’s body gave a sudden jolt, almost impaling the roof of my mouth on her horn.

“You - uhnn - little fucker,” she panted, yanking on her tail, making me groan as she attempted to cut off the circulation to my dick.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered back, barely able to speak with my mind muddled with ecstasy. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Did I fucking ask you to stop?”

I guess not, I thought, as I leaned forward again, and began licking the mare’s pointed appendage. At first I found giving Vinyl a hornjob awkward, but I persisted; it was the least I could do after what she was doing for me. I started by just licking it, feeling each ridge that spiraled towards the tapered point, then I grew more adventurous, taking as much of it as I could into my mouth, pressing my tongue firmly against her horn as I slowly bobbed my head up and down. The more I teased Vinyl, the harder she pulled on her tail, and before long, the room was filled with a chorus of our muffled voices as we cried out in unified pleasure.

Suddenly I felt something burning hot in my mouth, and I was forced to let go of Vinyl’s horn just in time for the room to be filled with a flash of brilliant red light. I lay there, feeling the mare’s body shuddering harshly, as she rode out her orgasm, then went limp, as the last waves began to ebb away.

“That was - uhnnn - just - hmmm - what I needed,” she sighed, as she rested her head on my shoulder. “Not - hahhhh - many stallions - mmm - are willing to suck a mare’s horn; something about it creeping them out because it reminds them of a dick or something.”

“Glad I could - gah-” Vinyl tightened the loop around my dick again.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you,” she said, sitting back up, placing a trembling hand on my chest for leverage. “You’re cumming with me.”

She began to rise and fall, dragging the loop of hair up and down the length of my stallionhood as she went. It felt incredible. I didn’t want it to stop, but the sharp tingling at the base of my dick told me that the end was coming soon. Just as I thought I was about to burst, a loud beeping noise began to fill the entire apartment.

“Oh shit,” Vinyl said, as she came to a sudden stop, let go of her tail, so she could raise her hand to her face and check the time on a black wrist watch. Then without warning, she jumped off the couch, and ran to the bedroom, coming back a second later with her shoes. “Shit shit shit shit shit.”

“What - haaa - what is it?” I panted, feeling uncomfortably pent up.

“I’ve gotta get to class.” She slipped on her shoes, and tied them up as fast as she could. “Thanks for taking care of me, and for letting me crash here last night, and for, well, that.”

“But what about-”

“Oh yeah, that. Sorry to leave you standing at attention, but I’ve already been late to class twice this semester; make it a third time, and it’s bye bye diploma.” She made her way to the door and put one hand on the knob. “Tell you what, I’ll owe you two next time, deal?”

I paused, my frustration at not reaching orgasm momentarily forgotten.

“So there’s going to be a next time?”

Vinyl rolled her eyes at me.

“Of course there’s gonna be a next time, dumb ass. Now I really gotta get out of here." She turned the knob, and had one foot out the door, before stopping once more, and looking back with that same sweet smile she'd shown me when I’d opened my eyes that morning. "Thanks for being a gentlepony; I think it’s just what I need right now." Then without another word, Vinyl stepped into the hall, and closed the door, her footsteps echoing down the stairs, until she was out of the building, but to my delight, not out of my life.

Looks like things are going to start getting interesting, I thought, smiling like an idiot, as I untied myself, climbed off my couch, and started getting ready to start my day. I had a feeling it was going to be a good one.