Sleepover at Apple Bloom's

Sweetie Belle watched intently as Big Mac finished toweling off his mane; his sun-bleached orange hair was still damp, and looked almost brown. She realized that she was staring, and quickly pretended to be interested in a book on apple harvesting, but she was still quite aware of his every move. He gave his mane a cursory brushing, and then wrapped the towel around his waist. He came over and sat on the edge of his bed. Neither pony said anything.

She was still flipping through the book, and he was watching her. She wondered what he was thinking.

Sweetie Belle knew that she would have to be the one to break the ice. What would she talk about if he were just a friend? She had talked with Scootaloo and Apple Bloom at length about her magic lessons with Twilight Sparkle. Would he be interested in that kind of stuff?

“Umm,” she ventured, “would you like to see some of the unicorn magic that I’ve been practicing?” It sounded kind of mundane to her, but at least is was something.

“Eeyup.” said Big Mac. He sounded genuinely interested.

Sweetie Belle looked around the room for a challenging object. She settled on one of the young stallion’s barbells; it was marked 5 POUNDS. That was a bit heavier than what she had done before, but it would have to do. She took a deep breath and focused her mind. Concentrated on the barbell. Wrapped her mind around it. She gritted her teeth slightly and her horn sparked to life. The barbell glowed, too, and then lifted slowly off the ground. It wobbled a bit, but Sweetie Belle kept it steady, and managed to lift it several feet into the air before setting it back down again. She exhaled a bit theatrically, and looked at Big Mac. He appeared impressed.

“That’s really good for such a small pony.” He was nodding his head in encouragement.

“Thanks!” beamed Sweetie Belle. “I practice almost every day. Let’s see…” she looked around the room for her next trick. She spied an inkwell with a large quill over near the open window. The cool rain was still falling lightly outside, and she had an idea.

She’d open with a little bit of explanation.

“Lifting a heavy object is one thing,” she began, “but carefully controlling something lightweight requires a lot of concentration, too.” She floated the quill pen out of the inkwell and blotted the excess ink on some paper. The large feather floated in front of Big Mac’s face and hovered there.

“Now lay down on your back and close your eyes,” she instructed. The big stallion narrowed his eyes a little and shot her a questioning look. She put her hooves on her hips. “Just do it, you big sissy.” The fact that he hadn’t objected to anything yet was giving her added confidence.

Slowly, he did as he was told.

Sweetie Belle floated the feather over to his face, and tickled his muzzle lightly. Big Mac wrinkled his nose and tried to endure it, but after a few seconds, he let out a snort and a chuckle, and rubbed his snout vigorously.

“That tickles,” he mused.

“It’s supposed to, Captain Obvious. Now shush.”

She continued her feathery assault as the stallion folded his hooves on his stomach. She caressed his broad shoulders and traced his strong arms. Gosh, he really was a hunk of a pony, and he was letting—letting—her tickle him. The feather moved down to his chest and started doing small circles. Big Mac took a couple of deep breaths and exhaled with what seemed like satisfaction. Sweetie Belle was enjoying the game, too, for although she wasn’t actually touching the stallion, she was manipulating the object that was.

And through the feather, she could feel the texture of his coat, the resistance it gave, whether she was going with or against the grain of his hide. She wasn’t touching him with her hooves, but it was as if she was caressing him with her mind. Sweet Celestia, did he feel good. Did she feel good!

Sweetie Belle must have lost her wits for a little while, for the next thing she knew, she was on top of the big stallion, hugging his neck and peppering his muzzle with kisses. He was warm and clean and smelled wonderful. She felt safe, but excited. Really excited!

Despite her best efforts to cling to his chest, Sweetie Belle found herself easily lifted into the air. Big Mac held the young filly at arm’s length and looked up at her with alarm.

Sweetie Belle realized that she had gone way, way, too far, and hung dejectedly in the big stallion’s grasp. How could she have been so stupid? She had never felt so small and powerless, and all of her feelings just started pouring out.

“Oh, Big Mac, I’m sorry. I know I’m just a filly and I don’t even have my cutie mark yet but I will soon and I think about you all the time. It’s just that you’re so strong and you’re really nice and I just wanted to be closer to you. That’s why I snuck into your room while I thought you were in the shower and climbed on your bed and it was warm and it smelled like you and I just got so, so…”

She didn’t dare explain any further. She felt drained and empty, and waited for the inevitable.

But now it was her turn to be surprised. Instead of being set down and dismissed, the little unicorn found herself being returned to her place on the big stallion’s chest, and she searched his face for an explanation. He was grinning a wide grin at her.

“Did you see?” he glanced over to the bedside table. “I kept the bracelet you gave me.”

She managed a hesitant smile and nodded. “I thought you must have eaten it.”

He laughed pretty hard at that. “Nnnope. I kept it because the flowers were white and pink and purple. Just like you.”

Sweetie Belle looked again at the bracelet she had made. Its tiny blossoms were mostly white and had accents of pink and lavender. She hadn’t noticed the resemblance to the colors of her coat and mane before. Mac’s heart-felt sentiment lifted her spirits significantly. She had never heard sweeter words.

With a slightly dreamy look in her eyes, she looked back at the stallion. He was smiling and looking at her—his eyes moving quickly, as if he were examining every feature of the small unicorn in his arms. She hoped he liked what he saw. Slowly this time, she leaned in to kiss his muzzle. And this time, he returned the embrace.

She pulled herself up higher on his chest so that she could kiss him up high on his cheek, and his kisses covered her neck and shoulders. Despite his large hooves, he tenderly caressed her sides and soft flanks, and Sweetie Belle could hardly contain herself. Between rapid breaths, she huffed words of love and encouragement in the big stallion’s ear, and used her hooves to push his hooves further and further down her body. To the back of her flanks. To her haunches. To her inner thighs. Under her tail.

Her heavy, shallow breathing gave way to small moans and sighs of pleasure. Words were no longer necessary, and the little filly was concentrating on the rhythm they were creating—grinding her hips in time with his gentle hooves. She had never felt such ecstasy.

Without warning, she found herself momentarily lifted and twirled, and then was set back down on the stallion’s chest facing the other way. Her tail smooshed up against Big Mac’s nose, as he placed her back legs around his neck. Her back hooves landed softly on his pillow. She looked back for a second with a questioning look on her face, but she quickly figured it out. She smiled a coy smile, narrowed her eyes knowingly, and slowly—dramatically, with a little flourish—lifted her tail. She knew that her delicate marehood would be inches in front of his muzzle.

Sweetie Belle didn’t have to wait long; Big Mac began licking her haunches and inner thighs—his big tongue performing surprisingly intricate moves, and the little unicorn snuggled in to her lover’s stomach with a gigantic sigh. She felt utterly vulnerable and yet completely protected—a strange duality that somehow made a lot of sense. The stallion’s tongue found its mark, and the resulting shockwave of pleasure caused Sweetie Belle to collapse even further. She grasped at hooffulls of his downy undercoat, and gulped lungfulls of his clean, musky scent. Her head lolled to one side and spun wildly as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over her. His tongue explored every, delicate fold of her sex, and did tiny loops around her clitoris. Sometimes he would make his tongue rigid and push it up into her marehood, and Sweetie Belle would rock her hips back and forth to add to the effect. She was afraid that her whole body was going to explode in a shower of pink sparks like her horn did when she climaxed. Oh yeah, about that…

“Hey,” she turned her head back to Big Mac,

“Don’t be. Scared,” she panted heavily,

“My horn. Sparks. When I. Cum.”

And right on cue, her tiny horn began glowing a pale pink color. She was getting close. The stallion nodded in acknowledgement, but didn’t pause from his licking. She saw that his muzzle was wet and his eyes were fixed on his work.

She turned back and closed her eyes. The stallion’s penetrating, probing tongue was taking her higher and higher. The little unicorn had climaxed dozens of times before, and had even had a couple that she had thought were rather amazing, but they were all paling in comparison to the ecstasy that she was experiencing at that moment, and she wasn’t even done yet. She couldn’t imagine that she could possibly feel any better, and then another bolt of pleasure would come along and push her even higher.

The little filly could feel her muscles start to clench, and then she felt like she was flying and falling and crashing and soaring. She buried her face in Big Mac’s stomach to muffle her cries, and her horn flared brightly. She felt it spark—explode, really—and the release of magic energy added to her physical release was almost too much. Sweetie Belle clung tenuously to consciousness for a few seconds before her senses began returning to her. She started to breathe a bit slower as the contractions were tailing off. So that’s what all the fuss was about!

Wordlessly, Big Mac gently lifted the little filly and turned her around so that she could snuggle into his neck, and Sweetie Belle found herself drifting off into a hazy, exhausted, and satisfied sleep. She managed to mumble an inquiry about her orgasmic light display.

“Did you see the heart?”

“There were two hearts,” informed her quiet, deep-voiced lover. “The sparks rose all the way to the ceiling and formed into a big, red heart around a smaller, white one. Then a pink arrow formed and shot through them both. It was beautiful.”

“Huh, how about that,” mused Sweetie Belle.