Silk Pajamas

by Admiral Biscuit

Rating: mature
Tags: Human, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Colgate, Romance, Sex
Length: 4225

My relationship with Minuette improves dramatically when I discover she loves silk pajamas.

I'd been dating Minuette ever since we officially consummated our relationship after the Harvest Festival. She came over when I was wearing silk pajamas, and I discovered just how much she loved the feel of silk.

Published 2014-12-08 05:30:11 UTC
Last updated 2014-12-08 05:30:11 UTC

Silky

Silk Pajamas
Admiral Biscuit

"What's on your mind?"

"Huh?" I glanced over at the red farm stallion.

"You had kinda a distant look," he muttered. "Like you was thinking of . . . something."

I shrugged. "Nothing important, Mac."

He nodded in satisfaction and stuck his head under the water. I did the same, rinsing the sweat out of my hair. Who would have thought. It had been a hot day, and I was soaked in sweat by the time we were done working. Normally, I would have gone home and taken a shower there, but for once the little pond had been too enticing to resist. And we were friends, and it wasn't that weird to be skinny-dipping with another guy, right? Well, at least Big Mac didn't think so.

"AJ in town?" I asked when his head popped back up. God, how weird would it be if she showed up for a quick dip? I hadn't thought about that when I stripped down and jumped in the pond.

"Eyup." He gave me a suspicious look. "You ain't—"

"Nope."

"Good."

I got out of the water first, and only then realized that I wasn't going to have much luck drying off without a towel. Fortunately, my T-shirt was at least slightly absorbant . . . enough to help, anyway.

I kept my back to the water until I had my pants on. Big Mac came up the bank a ways away from me and shook himself off, then walked over to me. "You gonna come back tomorrow?"

"Still need me?"

"Eyup."

"Yeah, I'll be here." I held out my fist and he bumped it lightly. "Take it easy."

• • •

As soon as I got home, I changed into some comfortable pajamas. Perhaps 'loungewear' would have been a more appropriate term for them. Rarity hadn't quite gotten the concept of 'pajamas,' and had made these out of silk. They were just a little bit too decadent to wear to bed, although they were quite nice to relax around the house in.

I'd been promising myself for years that I was going to learn to cook, although I'd never quite had the time. Once I came to Ponyville, though, I had lots of free time. More than I knew what to do with, really. The library had quite a few cookbooks, and I'd been slowly learning.

Unfortunately, I still hadn't gotten the knack of having the right ingredients, and hadn't learned enough to successfully improvise. On the other hand, there was the old standby of an omlette.

I really miss an electric stove, I thought as I fed some logs into my cantankerous wood stove. I'd taken to keeping a hammer in the kitchen to adjust the sticky damper.

It still weirded me out that the eggs were supposed to be kept on the counter. I mixed them up and added a little bit of milk to make them fluffier, diced a green pepper and an onion, and melted a little bit of butter in the pan.

Just when I'd picked up the spatula to fold it over, I heard the front door open. "You home?"

"I'm in the kitchen," I said.

I flipped the omelette closed, and slid it onto a plate as Minuette walked into the kitchen. She wrinkled her muzzle. "Omelettes again? Didn’t you say you were gonna ‘broaden your culinary horizons?’"

"I was going to make a casserole, but I didn't have the ingredients," I told her. "You want one?"

She shook her head. "I ate a big lunch with Lyra and Moondancer."

I pointed over to the kitchen counter. "I got you some flowers."

"You're such a sweetie." She stood on her hind legs and put her forehooves on my shoulder, bringing her face up to mine for a quick kiss. As usual, her mouth tasted vaguely pepperminty.

I brushed my hand lightly through her forelock, and she lowered her muzzle to my chest as I traced a finger to the top of her ear.

"Silky," she mumbled, stroking her cheek against my shirt. "You should wear this more often. It feels nice." She got back down on all fours and floated a flower out of the arrangement, sniffing it before biting the head off. "Do you mind if I use your shower?"

"Should be plenty of towels and soap in there. I even picked up some rosemary soap, ‘cause you like it so much."

"I'll leave the door open so you don't get lonely," she told me, leaning forward and rubbing her nose right in my crotch. "Mmm, your pants are silky, too."

I just stood there dumbfounded as she went to the bathroom, swishing her tail in a smug way. She paused right in the doorway and lifted her tail, then snaked into the bathroom with a faint giggle. “Enjoy your omelette.”

I resisted the urge to abandon my meal and follow her. It was a little game she played, trying to get me as worked up as she could, and damned if it didn't work almost every time. Instead, I changed tactics. "How was your day?"

"Long," she said, raising her voice over the water. "Had a couple of cleanings and filings, and spent the afternoon extracting an impacted wolf tooth in a foal. Snips, if you know him."

"Chubby little guy?"

"Yeah.” The beat of the water changed as she stuck her head under the shower. “After I got done with that, I didn't have anything else on the schedule, so I went over to Shoeshines and made an appointment to get re-shod.”

“What’s wrong with the shoes you’ve got now?”

“Worn out. Brass doesn’t last all that long. How was your day?”

"Hot. Mac and I spent all day working on the fence. We quit early 'cause Mac had to get ready for a Ponytones concert." And then we washed off in the pond, I thought. And that was kind of weird, in a totally non-gay way.

Says the guy who's fucking a horse.

I looked down at my half-eaten omelette, back up at the open bathroom door, and pushed my chair back. I was ready to give her her victory—but she shut off the shower. I scooted forward again, and took another bite of my dinner.

I'd finished and was washing the utensils in the sink when she came out of the bathroom, her mane wrapped in a towel.

She moved beside me and rubbed her head against my thigh. "Were you thinking of me when I was in the shower?"

"No," I lied. "I was just thinking about how work went, out on the farm."

"Musta been something." She ran her hoof up to the rather prominent bulge in my silk pajama bottoms. I'd hoped she wouldn't notice.

Not that she was making any effort to hide her arousal. Even over the rosemary soap, I could smell her, and when I looked down, she was flicking her tail impatiently.

I set my plate in the drying rack with feigned casualness. "You know, I could get dressed and we could go to the Ponytones concert. I've always been curious about how well Mac sings."

Her ears drooped, and she bit her bottom lip. "I forgot that was tonight. Damn. I promised Torch Song I'd go. Okay . . . I'll have to go home and change into a skirt—meet me at my house in an hour."

Well, that backfired.

• • •

I'd been lucky that Rarity hadn't understood 'workwear' right away. Well, it was my own fault for not being clear—but the upshot was that I had a nice, formal suit which I hardly ever wore. It was probably a bit much for a Ponytones concert in the park, but all my normal clothes were stained from working in them.

I made it to Minuette's house with a few minutes to spare, picnic basket in one hand. I let myself in and found her in the bathroom, inspecting herself in the mirror. She was wearing a light yellow skirt, and had combed her mane into a ponytail. It was a cute look—she hardly ever styled her mane.

I gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and we headed for the park. I spread a blanket under a tree, and we made ourselves comfortable while waiting for the concert to begin. There was a pretty good crowd—maybe a third of the ponies in town had come out.

I hadn't been to an outdoor concert in years, not since I was a kid, and all I can remember from that was how much I'd wanted to get back home to the TV. My parents telling me that it 'built character' hadn't been sufficient reason to attend, in my opinion.

Now that I was older—and had nothing better to do—I looked forward to it.

Just the same, I'd brought two bottles of wine, which was more than enough to erase the concert from my memory, if it came to that. I'd learned fairly quickly that 'wine,' to them, often meant 'alcohol that tastes like fruit.' There were no labeling rules about alcohol content, and a few of the mares that made the stuff had a hobby of seeing just how strong they could get it.

Not that I had any plans of getting completely shitfaced unless I had no other option. I popped the cork on a bottle of Berry's red, took a drink, and passed the bottle to Minuette.

When the ponies stepped on stage, I had a bad feeling this concert was going to be like the last. I couldn't help but snicker at their outfits. They reminded me of a teenage Christian band that was trying just a little too hard; the lack of pants made the image just too much, and I covered a snicker.

"What's so funny?" Minuette said sharply.

"It's just . . . they're not wearing pants."

"Hardly anypony ever does," Minuette reminded me. "They're really not very comfortable. I don't see how you can stand to wear them all the time."

"Yeah, yeah."

The evening just flew by, and I was quite impressed by Mac's voice. Figured that he'd be a bass. I'd never been into a capella music before, but they changed my mind. I was actually disappointed when they left the stage after their second encore. Listening to the hoofstomping of the crowd was actually a bit unsettling; it was like being on the receiving end of a cavalry charge.

I packed up while Minuette was backstage, congratulating Torch Song on the concert. I probably could have left the basket under the tree and nobody would have bothered it, but old habits die hard, and I carried it with me, down towards the stage, and patiently waited for Minuette to reappear.

While I waited, I finished the bottle of wine I'd opened at the beginning of the concert. There wasn't much left—Minuette had pretty much killed it. Almost anyone in Ponyville could drink me under the table, if they put their minds to it.

"Your place or mine?" I asked when she came out from backstage.

"Yours is closer," she told me.

"All right." I switched the picnic basket to my left hand, and brushed a finger across her ear. "What did you think about the concert?"

"It was wonderful. They're so good together, don't you think?"

"I've never heard anything quite like it," I said honestly. "What was the deal with that song near the end? The one I didn't understand."

She cocked her head in thought, then looked up at me. "Oh! It's a traditional Pegos ballad. Goes back before Hearth's Warming Eve. See, all three tribes didn't always get along, and each one had their own musical traditions. The pegasi had their own language, which they shared with the griffons, and all their songs were in Pegos."

"What was it about?"

She rolled her eyes. "I don't know. It was probably a heroic ballad; that's pretty much all that they ever wrote. Did you know that they wrote the music for the Equestrian anthem?"

I didn't. I didn't even know that there was an Equestrian anthem, although it stood to reason in a society which valued music so highly that there would be.

I opened the front door and let Minuette in. She made a beeline for the bathroom, while I put the basket away, then headed upstairs to change my clothes.

When I came back downstairs in my silk pajamas, she was still in the bathroom, standing in front of the sink brushing her teeth. She'd taken her skirt off and let her mane back down. I just watched her work.

She spit in the sink and rinsed her mouth out, then looked over my way. Her eyes widened when she saw what I was wearing.

I won't lie; I've always been a fan of lingerie. Admittedly, none of my former girlfriends ever wore it, so I didn't have any actual first-hand experience as to the seductive power of it, nor had I ever considered the male equivalent—a leopard-print banana hammock would turn anyone off . . . but the way her face lit up when she saw my silk pajamas was rather arousing. Well, and I wasn't wearing any underwear, which made the silk feel that much nicer.

It was the first time I'd ever seen a unicorn toss anything with her field. The toothbrush did land on the counter, which spoke volumes for her control, since she wasn't even looking that way. Her eyes had locked on the bulge in my pants. I'd like to think it was because I was just that well-hung, but I'd seen enough stallions unsheathed before to know I was no prize in the length department.

Regardless, Minuette only had eyes for one thing as she walked across the kitchen. She pushed her face right into my crotch and nuzzled my member, then stood up and jammed her lips against mine. I staggered backwards as her tongue forced its way between my lips.

She backed off slightly. "I've been waiting hours," she whispered, then pressed against my lips again. I ran a hand down her back, squeezing her rump tightly, pulling her close to me.

Neither of us wanted to let go, so the bedroom was out. I hadn't seen her this horny since the night we'd consummated our relationship on her living room floor, and it looked like this was going to be a repeat. I guided us backwards until I felt my calves brush up against the couch, my fingers lightly stroking under her tail.

All of her earlier teasing was gone, replaced with an almost frightening desire. She broke the kiss and pushed me back onto the couch, bracing her forehooves on my thighs. "Don't move," she hissed, as she leaned her head into my chest, forcing me back.

I wasn't about to listen to her orders. I twisted one hand into her mane, and ran a finger down the edge of her jaw and along her neck, eliciting a sharp gasp. I didn't know if all mares reacted that way to having their neck stroked, or it it was just her.

In response, she rubbed her cheek against my shirt, the pressure a feather-touch on my nipples. One hoof went between my legs, teasing me further.

She backed off, looking me in the eye before she dropped her head and rubbed her muzzle in my crotch. I leaned back, taking a deep breath of the musky odor of her arousal. It was a distinct, unmistakable smell, one I'd grown to love.

Minuette gently took me in her lips, slowly bobbing her head up and down, her grip loose enough that the silk slid smoothly up and down my shaft. The sensation was unbearably pleasurable—the heat of her mouth and the feel of the fabric bunching and releasing against my head was like nothing I'd ever felt before, and I wasn't going to last very long at this rate. At the same time, I didn't want her to stop.

I tried to hold out for as long as I could, but when her lips wrapped around my head and pulled the silk taut, it was just too much. I balled my hands into fists in her mane and unloaded for what felt like forever.

"Oh my God." I loosened my death-grip on her head. "That was amazing."

She slid my pants down and licked up my length clean, swirling her tongue across the tip before pulling herself up on the couch next to me. "You'd better not fall asleep," she muttered.

"I wouldn't think of it," I assured her, leaning forward to kiss her on the top of the muzzle. I slid a hand down her chest, gently scratching along her ruff. I traced a finger lightly around one of her nipples. "Not when you haven't had a turn."

She leaned against me as my hand slipped teasingly between her hind legs. I twisted my fingers slightly, barely brushing her dampness, enough to give her a promise of what was to come. "Do me a favor, okay?"

Minuette nodded.

"Lean forwards and close your eyes. Forelegs above your head."

She narrowed her eyes. "What are—"

"Ssh." I touched my finger lightly to her muzzle.

As soon as she'd complied, I tugged my shirt off and slipped it over her head. It was inside-out now, but that made no real difference.

Her eyes snapped back open as the fabric slid down her torso. As I'd anticipated, it was much too long for her, draping over her hind legs, and covering her nearly completely.

"What are you doing?" she asked curiously as I rolled the sleeves back far enough for her hooves to stick out.

"You were supposed to keep your eyes closed," I chided. I brushed a finger across the silk, trailing down her side to her cutie mark. She gasped and tensed under me.

What the hell was Rarity thinking, making this outfit?

"Lean back," I instructed, guiding her onto her back. I shifted around as she scooted her head against the armrest, leaning over her to give her another kiss on the nose.

I slid down her body, dragging my head along the slippery silk covering her belly. I could feel her nipples poking through the sheer fabric, and slowly worked my mouth over them, lightly kissing and sucking even as I reached my left hand between her legs.

I ran my knuckles softly against her, teasingly brushing her damp flesh. I could feel the heat radiating from her, and I wanted to touch, but I held back, instead lightly rubbing the underside of her tail before I squeezed her rump.

She whined quietly as I withdrew my hand, so I gently bit down on her nipple, poking it with the tip of my tongue.

I slid my head down further, and kissed her on the inside of a thigh even as I rubbed a finger over her cutie mark. She tensed under me and moaned loudly, thrusting her hips up at my face.

My tongue found its target almost instantly. She reached down and pressed a hoof against my head as soon as I touched her clit, and held me there. Whether it was the shirt, or her pent-up horniness, I don't know, but she came hard. I backed off when she relaxed her hoof, and looked up at her curiously.

"Don't you dare stop," she panted.

"I've barely begun," I assured her, and kissed her nub before sticking my tongue between her folds. She writhed under me, rocking her hips each time I brushed up against her sensitive clit.

I kept my hands busy, alternating between her cutie marks and her nipples. Sometimes I slipped under my shirt, sliding over her bare fur, but I mostly kept the silk between us, letting it add its own caress to my motions.

Minuette ran her hooves down her belly, rubbing herself through the silk, moving closer and closer to her small mounds. I moved my hand aside as she brushed her frog against her nipples, and left one hand to explore her cutie mark, while I pushed the second inside her winking vagina.

She lasted longer this time, her urgency gone. When she was close, I took a hoof in my hand and held it tightly while she rode out her second orgasm.

"Your fingers are amazing." She touched the back of my hand lightly with her free forehoof. “Nopony else can do that.”

"I know." I pulled myself up and stretched over her chest, leaning an ear against her breastbone, listening to her heart. She scooted back a little bit under me, until she could bend down and kiss the top of my head.

I crawled the rest of the way over her, and kissed her back. "Do you want to spend the night on the couch?"

"Not really," she admitted. "My neck's stiff. What about you?"

"I'd rather not," I admitted. “But I don’t want to move, either.”

She kissed my nose. "Okay, get up. I can't go anywhere with you on top of me."

"Murgh."

"Come on." She licked my nose, jerking me upright. That felt weird.

I pushed myself off her and nodded. "I am so going to bring my bed down here tomorrow. No reason for it to be all the way upstairs.”

"I'll help," she offered. "But before we do, we ought to celebrate its last day on the second floor."

I stood up. "I wasn't being serious."

"I was." She reached forward and brushed the back of her hoof against my crotch. "Looks like you've gotten your second wind."

I nodded. "Right about when you started rubbing your own nipple. I've always had a weakness for girls who do that."

"Get upstairs, and I'll show you what else I can do." She nosed me in the butt.

• • •

As soon as I got to the bedroom, I tossed the covers back. I was about to get into bed when I felt her tugging at the back of my pants. "You told me you don't wear those to bed," she reminded me.

"I don't." I slipped them off and stepped out. She leaned forward and kissed me on the thigh, brushing her cheek against my erection. “Are you going to keep my shirt on?”

She nodded. "I want to be on top."

I sat on the edge of the bed. "Are you sure?" It didn't strike me as a natural position for ponies, although I didn't really have much experience in what was, short of the traditional, feral method.

She nodded.

"You know, on Earth, we called it the cowboy position," I told her. "'Cause cowboys ride horses."

"Not tonight, big boy." She pushed me back onto the bed, and climbed on top of me. "Have you done it like this before?"

"I wish."

She wiggled her hips, working to find the angle, before getting up on her forehooves and sliding backwards. Her damp slit surrounded my shaft, before sliding off. Minuette shifted around, trying to get into position again.

"I could use my horn," she suggested.

"Not sure I want your magic down there. Let me help."

I guided myself in with my hand, resisting the natural urge to try and hilt as soon as I felt her lips engulfing me.

It took her a few gentle movements to get her hind legs comfortably positioned, but it was worth the wait. She leaned down as she began thrusting, kissing me at the bottom of each stroke. My shirt moved between us in a maddening massage.

Once she'd gotten her rhythm right, she pushed off, and I helped steady her. It wasn't a natural position for a pony, but it had the advantage that I could look down my chest and watch.

As soon as she was comfortable with the position, I took a hand off her shoulder and reached between her legs, resting my thumb lightly on her clit, while my index finger brushed lightly against her nipple—an unexpected bonus to them being down there.

Minuette kept up a slow tempo, occasionally looking down at my hand. I finally moved it aside, to give her an opportunity to watch our coupling, which fascinated her.

Too soon, I felt her clenching around me. She dropped back down, laying across my chest, and I brought my hands up, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, and brushing her neck with the other.

Against my instincts, I switched to slow, deep strokes, stopping each time I was bottomed out, until she let out a happy sigh and nuzzled my cheek.

"Are you—"

"Not until you finish," she said, wiggling her butt.

This time, she stayed on all fours, rocking back each time I thrust. She let my tempo guide her, leaning back on her hind legs as I came.

Once I was spent, she lay atop my chest, leaving my fading erection still inside.

"I love you," I mumbled.

"Love you too, babe."

The last thing I knew before I woke up the next morning was Minuette laying on my chest, her shallow breaths washing across my chin and neck.

Author's Note

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