Author's Note

Centaur's POV

Typically Me: 1

As an Anon, living descendant of the original Mr. Anon; who moved to Equestria many a decades ago; but alas, living in Equestria and the exposure to their magic has had a few unexpected side-effects upon us all, me included.

As opposed to what we were like upon arrival, I am a light pink to bright cerise; while my hair is a sparkling hot electric blue. As of yet, none of us ever grew a coat of fur, while I can pride myself with the thick rubbery hide.

Apparently, I have emerald green draconian eyes. How curious, but it is what I had grown up with and grew used to way back even before my teens.

My conjoint brother is a white stallion. I assume he is an Earth Pony; based on the lack of both horn, and wings; for all I have seen. The problem is that I never saw his head, as a conjoint twin.

When I say white; that is the brightest silicon white, on the border of iridescent; yet, he never glows in the dark, or anything as drastically conspicuous.

Living a life in Equestria does have strange effects on a girl like me, and the boy like my brother; together, we are what the mythology collectively referred to as a Centaur.

For an Equestrian; he still does retain most of the Earthern built of a traditional Arabian Stead, as opposed to that of the more common Equestrian Ponies I see all around me.

My sister is just like me, but her hide is a bright green of the linden leaves of the early spring. Her hair is the fierce, bright yellow to read of the camp fire that warms your body as you huddle in the cold before you are forced to withdraw into the tent. She was gifted with deep brown equine eyes that would have been beautiful, and soulful with our brother, whose eyes we are never going to see; all the while, I figure he is seeing through ours respectively.

Both my sister, and I keep our hair in a long braid all the way down the spine; while we enjoy luscious bangs similar to that of our Pony friends. We take turns, grooming one another’s hair and braid the other sister’s hair. I guess it is a relaxing pastime and an excellent bonding time; taking a full hour each day for the two of us.

My sister does enjoy taking her turn, grooming and braiding my brother’s tail; while I do enjoy my turn, when it is my time next week. Of course I feel her hands, as she is brushing the tail and braiding it ever as carefully; she has a very light and caring hand, I came to notice.

-

We had just finished the grooming, just after breakfast; siting back and relaxing.

Today and tomorrow are the two free days, just like the weekends of our ancestral old Earth. Even generations removed, we still honour this particular tradition and enjoy the time together. I guess our ancestry has made it easier on us, we never did crave all that much flesh in our diet in the first place.

Being the conjoint, I am bound to be on top; not that I do mind. I know she will enjoy the position just as much next week; something I pass over with warm hooves, at the end of the week.

“It is time, buckle up and prepare yourself!” I exclaimed, looking eagerly at her.

“If you follow me down the ramp, to our private sanctum in the basement?” she challenged me, as she rose to her feet and slowly walked in the indicated direction.

“Don’t you worry, little sister!” I proclaimed, following her down the ramp.

“I want my ride, before I permit you to have all the fun!” she stated, just as we reach the end of the ramp down to the basement.

“Jump up and enjoy the ride, I know it will make you soaking wet!” I promised; feeling her place her hands, on the shoulders of my brother and jumped up on my back.

I feel a whine in my throat as she is smacking his plump and firm Equine butt, just right. On cue, I start to trot down the hall; first slowly and with increasing speed along the way.

“Yee-Haw!” she exclaimed excitedly, just before my trot turned into a canter and I continued speeding down the hall.

I turn a right, and then another. Feeling her arms around my waist is merely pushing me on in the excitement. Knowing her excitement as I start to feel the first hint of moist from her orchid, aside from the hastening breath I hear from behind me.

Feeling her wet and stiff on my back turns me on. I guess I could as well admit, there is no gain in denying it anyway. Yet, I do follow the hall, turn by turn in order to reach the optimal point for out little escapade.

I can’t pin her down properly, before we are excited enough for me to enter her in the first place, so why even bother. On that note, my brother is the one who needs to be in the mood for us to work this particular magic in the first place.

With experience behind me, I am getting her in line, just at the time I turn in towards the room of our sanctuary, opening the door and entering. Once inside, there is no turning back, we ll need to be in the heat of the moment or it is all for naught.

Once I had slowed down, I could feel her hands move up to my chest and she tentatively feeling me up and teasing my cherries. As I closed the door behind myself, she nimbly jumped off of my back and landed on her feet.

I could see her apply her hand cream, while I was looking at her; before she moved over to the table we had prepared in a joint effort in enchanting the room for our private times.

She beds over, with her belly firmly pressed down on top of the table; from there, she comfortably pressed down her hands where she had always come to place them. I take her cue as my brother placed his forehooves on the backs of her hands and pressed them down onto the smooth, glistering black rubber under her hands. As he let go, her hands no longer is capable of letting go and lifting from the front legs of the table.

I have her pinned down, just where I need her to be; it is time, and I am ready and prepared to act.

Slowly, tentatively trotting up behind her, placing my right hand on her plump butt, permitting my fingers to slide down into the valley; from there my fingers make a stop over the rear entrance, teasing her and eliciting delightful sensations causing her to giggle in excitement; before following the valley back and up the mound, teasing the stiff, soaking wet rubber of her petals.

I may have known her to be soaked, from how her hands reacted on my brother’s little teasing treat; but it is part of the play I have come to enjoy and love, for so long as I could remember.