Sleepover at Apple Bloom's

Apple Bloom quickly took the spot vacated by Scootaloo and stretched out on her back. She spread her legs as far apart as they would go, and spurred Sweetie Belle on. “Oh, please hurry,” she said to the little unicorn between her legs, “I’m so excited right now, I can’t see straight.” That was the problem with going last. She couldn’t ever remember being this horny.

“I can tell,” replied Sweetie Belle, “I’ve never seen you like this. Maybe I should touch you and kiss you and lick you everywhere except…” She trailed off and let the threat hang in the air.

“And I’ll hold your hooves back,” added Scootaloo, joining in the tease “so you can’t pleasure yourself either! We’ll keep you hanging all night long.” She rubbed her hooves together menacingly.

“But that’s not fair!” cried Apple Bloom. Would her friends be so mean as to actually do that? She admitted to herself that it might be a fun game to try on another night, but not at the moment. What she needed right bucking now was Sweetie Belle’s tongue on her clit.

Thankfully, her friends broke out in giggles and let the torture idea drop. Sweetie Belle went to work right where she was so desperately needed, and Apple Bloom sighed as the first waves of pleasure began. She laid back and rested her one arm on her forehead, and closed her eyes. She concentrated on her breathing. Deep breaths. Lots of oxygen.

Apple Bloom was picturing Sweetie Belle’s tongue and her own, slick marehood. Her unicorn friend was doing an admirable job—she may not be quite the cunning linguist that Scootaloo was, but she was certainly improving her game. Apple Bloom found herself gasping as Sweetie Belle’s stiff tongue pushed itself up inside her. Again and again the tongue probed, and Apple Bloom began to rock her hips in time. A few, small moans of pleasure escaped her lips. This was getting really good!

A short pause followed—a little unexpected, maybe, but Sweetie Belle was most likely shifting positions or something—and then the thrusting began again. Deeper than before. Stiffer! Better! What was she doing with her tongue?! Apple Bloom almost didn’t care because it felt so amazing—oh, mighty mare, amazing—but her curiosity got the better of her after a while, and she peeked down between her legs.

Of course she was looking at Sweetie Belle’s head, but she could only see a mass of pink and lavender curls. Where was her face? Where was her…HORN! And with wide-eyed alarm, Apple Bloom realized that Sweetie Belle was using her stubby little horn, sliding it in and out of her tiny, pink marehood.

The horn’s owner must have sensed the disturbance, and Sweetie Belle withdrew. She looked up at Apple Bloom with curiosity. “So, what’d you think? Like it? I thought of it a few days ago, and I thought I’d surprise you! I can’t really see what I’m doing with my head down, but you were doing most of the work anyway and it’s not sharp at all. Well?” inquired the little unicorn.

“Best. Idea. EVER!” squealed Apple Bloom, “Keep going!” She laid back down and shut her eyes tight. Carefully this time, she moved her hips and felt the horn part her lips and push apart the walls. Slowly in. Slowly out. She thought that she could even feel the spiral ridges if she really concentrated. A little faster now. She pictured her slick lips wrapping around the smooth horn. It was tremendous.

In fact, it was making her feel something altogether new. Something wonderful. It was sort of a rhythmic fullness—something like the way she felt at that amazing DJ Pon3 concert. When the melody would rise and swell, and then the bass dropped. She felt something building up within her, and she was riding it to new heights of ecstasy. It wouldn’t be long now.

But then Scootaloo did something unexpected, too. Apple Bloom felt the pegasus lean over and start licking her clit. She was being doubly attended to by both Sweetie Belle’s horn and Scootaloo’s tongue, and she had never felt anything like it. The deep, thumping bass had now been joined by a delightful, rollicking anthem. Apple Bloom felt like her body was being pulled apart, in two separate, yet equally fulfilling ways.

And then came the crescendo—loud and intense and scary and brilliant. She floundered for a pillow and bit down hard. She arched her back and savored every contraction. The first few racked her body so hard that she had to brace herself by grabbing hooffulls of the mattress. Then she relaxed her grip and let the remaining reverberations play out.

It was the best orgasm she had ever had; best by a longshot.

Now that, truly, had been worth waiting all day for.