A Loving Reunion

Turns out? Megan’s a little sharper than she looks. I don’t mean that in a bad way, just that, you know, I’m sharper (and my hair’s prettier; I’d never say so, but she knows.) She’s surprised me this time, though. I’ve heard of this ‘Chinese water torture’ thing, and I think she’s developed a version of that.

Y’see, I got sick a few days ago. She says it’s because I’m flying at high altitudes in chilly weather, I say it’s because of that one time I swallowed a bug doing that (the skies here are kind of gross, just so you know.) Like really sick. Stay-at-home-wrapped-in-a-blanket sick. So there I am, wrapped up like a rainbow spring roll, shivering, and Megan’s all cuddling me and giving me hot soup and I’m thinking, this is great! I mean. Aside from the shivering, and the stuff with the nose, this is great!

I’ve been better for two days now. Oh, my fake sniffles and sneezes have been masterful; I even fooled myself at first. Megan definitely bought it. Or at least, I thought she did. This morning, I was doing the spring roll thing on the couch, while Megan was just heading out for class. I popped out those big ‘I’m-a-sick-pony-take-care-of-me’ eyes and asked her to bring back some carrots. Or one of those brown sugar cones. Or something. She promised she would, and asked if I would do some cleaning up, if I felt able. She even left the television on for me!

Don’t tell anyone, but I have a few weaknesses. Just little ones, you know. I don’t brush after every meal, for instance. I’d rather read Newsweek than Time, and would rather read a bazooka Joe comic than either. And there’s television. Television almost makes up for what these people have done to their weather. Hundreds of channels, and you can watch anyone doing anything; good movies, horrible movies, sitcoms, cartoons (fucking love cartoons!) and even these channels where the humans just jabber funny noises at each other. Television is one of my tiny weaknesses.

So I’m on the couch, all warm and snuggly in my blanket watching some cartoons and thinking about that cleaning up. I’m like, yeeeeah no thanks. Achoo, achoo, I’m sick, right? And then the cartoons go off, and it’s some weird talk show about vampire baby daddies or something like that. Then that’s over, and it’s on to the soaps. By now, I’m eyeballing the remote, right?

That was three hours ago, and now Billy Mays is trying to sell me his awesome beard-waxing technique. I’ve had enough. Unraveling my beautiful toasty tortilla blanket, I dive for the remote… success! I can change the channel and free myself from the inane infomercial. No, no, UFC is on next! I do not want to see greasy human males punching each other in the balls for an hour!

This is where Megan being a clever little devil comes in. I mash the remote and… Nothing happens. I’m getting frantic, the announcements are starting, and this remote control is not doing anything for me. You see – this is a very important feature of my life here – I don’t have fingers. This remote control is useless to me.

So there I am. I’m unwrapped, on my feet, and there’s literally nothing good on TV. And to tell you the honest truth, I just don’t feel like flying today. So, I guess chores it is. Oh yes, that Megan’s a mastermind. You're gooooood, Megan. So now here I am, trying to clean the place up. Did I mention I don’t have fingers? It’s a good thing neither of us are too messy.

It’s been an odd couple of months, let me tell you. First, I only have a vague idea how I got here. One minute I was putting on a show in Ponyville, the next minute everything’s white, and then my ears are ringing too loud to hear anything, and there’s this... thing helping me out. Right then she looked really weird. Didn’t help that everything she said sounded like “mwa mwa mwa mwa,” right? She said her name was Megan, and it turns out I’m not the first pony she’d ever met. I’m not sure I buy all of her story – she had me up to the shapeshifting lizard dating a cat with laser-eyes – but the rest seems to make good sense.

She cleaned me up, she took me in, and we’ve been partners ever since. Best friends, I guess. No, let me rephrase. Best friends for certain. More than best friends. Applejack’s my best friend too, but I don’t think I’d ever climb into her hay loft and eat her apples, if you catch my drift. But Megan… I don’t know, we just worked, you know? We were curled up on the couch watching some movie, I don’t even remember what. She had her fingers in my mane, my head was next to hers, and before I knew it, we were kissing. Those first few nights were crazy, just making out. She’s the one who made the first move past that. I’m not sure who started the kissing first, but it was definitely her hand going further. Point is, it felt natural, and even now, when I’m just cleaning up and thinking about her, I get little jitters in my stomach.

“Rainbowdash, I’m hooooome!” I hear her call, just before her keys jangle onto the table near my door. I have no idea why she says my name as one word like that. Have I been clearing up the apartment for so long, or is she just early? I peer around the doorway, and there she is, heading towards our room. She smiles when she sees me, and my stomach does its jitterbug thing again. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better!”

“Yeah well, you know me, I recover fast,” I can’t make a good cover with those big blue eyes looking so glad to see me. From what I can tell, she’s not perfect by human standards. Apparently all the really pretty humans have big chests, slender hips, long wavy hair, and lips you could land a plane on. Megan’s got round hips, a slender chest, freckles, and wears her mane in what she calls ‘locks.’ And just seeing her makes my wings a little wobbly; she’s gorgeous, and cosmo can chew my left hoof. “Uh, I figured I’d, you know, pick up a little bit.”

Looking around, I can tell that she can tell I’ve mostly been stacking stuff in one corner, then moving it to another corner. I said I was cleaning up, I never said I was really good at it. Cut me some slack, my house was made of clouds! “I can see that,” she murmurs, reaching down. I love the feel of her fingers brushing through my forelocks, and can’t help leaning up to her hand. “I got you one of those sugar cones you like.”

Ah Megan, so clever, yet so easy to con into indulging my sugar habit.

“I love you too,” I reply, feeling pretty clever at that. She laughs and rubs my ears. Not as nice as the mane, but hey, no complaints. She bends down, and we share a kiss. The hardest thing about kissing Megan isn’t the height difference, or the different way our mouths are. It’s stopping. If I could, I’d kiss her every minute of every day. It’s something about how tender her lips are, the fragrance she has, the way she sighs into my mouth and – at least when we’re really really kissing – that fabulous, playful little tongue of hers. But this is just a brief, happy-to-see-you kiss, and then she’s off to the kitchen. I kind of want to kick that round rump of hers when she does that. But then I couldn’t admire it as it goes the other way.

Life is full of little frustrations. For instance, she didn’t bother changing the channel.

I decide that I’ve cleaned up more than enough. I can tell because the hall closet door is hard to close now. It’s a shortcut, sure, I’ll get to it later. In the meantime, maybe I’ll take a little nap. It’s just a short journey into the bedroom, and the last thing I remember is the scent of her pillow.

I couldn’t have snoozed long; it was one of those awful in-between kind of naps, you know, long enough to make you disoriented when you wake up, but not long enough to actually give you a good rest. It’s the smell of food and the feel of the bed shaking that wakes me up. At first, everything is blurry and unfocused, at least until I pull my eyes into the same direction. She’s sitting there at the foot of the bed in pajamas, holding a big bowl of something that just smells delicious. Noodles and snow peas, with those sprouts she loves so much and even some mushrooms. This must have been her plan all along, because once she sees I’m awake, she offers me a few morsels between the two sticks she eats this stuff with. Another bonus of fingers, I guess. I would point it out to her, but this stuff tastes as good as it smells.

Another thing about those little naps is that I tend to wake up feeling a little, well, randy. This time isn’t any different, even though she’s doing a good job of distracting me with food. When she takes a bite for herself, I lean up and find her ear. I love the way she giggles and squirms when I nibble it. “Hey, Megan. Guess what?” I like to keep mystery in the relationship.

“You’re full and sleepy again, and I should leave and let you get some rest? Okay.” She sets the empty bowl down on the bed table and starts to get up. Ugh she is such a snot! I wrap my forelegs over her shoulders and pull her back down to the bed; her happy squeal makes my wings quiver. All the way down, so she’s laying back. For just a moment, I look at her, and I’m sure I’ve got that sappy goofy smile on my face, because she returns it. I have to kiss her again, this time like I want to kiss. Long, slow, and deep. The taste of her mouth gets me every time, and when she wraps her lips around my tongue and suckles at it…

Eventually we do have to break for a breath of air. “Nah, I’m still hungry,” is what I tell her, though it’s been a few minutes since she asked, I think. I sure as hell wasn't keeping time! I don’t think I need to explain that it’s not noodles and snow peas I’m hungry for. The feel of her fingers stroking through the fur of my chest and stomach is making me tingle all over, and I need to taste her again. The skin on her throat is tender and fragrant, and my kisses and nibbles make her gasp and tighten her fingers on my stomach.

For a good while we’re like that; her in her pajamas giving me a tummy-rub while I’m cuddled into her and teasing her neck. She’s the one to take it to the next level, when her hand creeps down lower and lower. Mine aren’t as sensitive as hers, but the gentle fiddling she gives my nipples doesn’t feel bad at all. She giggles when I have to squirm, and asks me, “Are you horny, Rainbow Dash?”

Oh, you think?

“It’s no fair if I can’t play with yours,” I say, trying to sound pathetic. She gives my teat a little tweak, making me gasp, and then she’s unbuttoning her top. One button… another button… Oh, this will not do. I grab the open lapel of her top in my teeth and pull. The snap buttons make a great noise when they pop free, and my head’s already under her shirt before she can say anything about it.

These are wonderful things. They’re soft, with the sweetest, smoothest skin, and hot little tips. I’m torn; do I take my time and punish her for being a tease, or do I indulge myself? Without even thinking about it, my mouth is around one of her tits, and I’m just enjoying the taste. But really, the best thing is feeling her nipples stiffen up against my tongue. That and hearing her gasp every time I suck even just a little, “Dash… Mmmm, Dash, that feels so nice….” See? That’s music.

It may not seem like it, but Megan’s usually the forward one in our relationship. She teases and plays coy, sure, but only because she knows I don’t have any patience and will give her what she really wants. Sometimes though, she doesn’t bother with the act; like now. She pulls away from my mouth, and I have to say I’m a little disappointed. She gives me one of those goofy growls she does when she ‘means business.’ And then I’m on my back, with her pinning me to the bed, a triumphant look on her face. “Why, Megan, if you wanted to be on top, you should have nnmmmph-“ By now I should know she’ll never let me finish my smart-assed lines when we’re making out. Her tongue is in my mouth and I’m floating off in heaven again.

While we kiss, I’ve decided she’s overdressed, and try to help her out of her pajamas. She seems to have the same idea, and the next couple of minutes are full of crazy fumbling and our giggles between kisses. Somehow, some way, it turns into a tickle fight. I hate tickle fights, because I always lose. No fingers, remember? So I do all that I can do in the face of her superior wriggly fingerpower; I squeal like a filly and scoot back on the mattress. “I give! I give! Take anything you want! Uncle!”

From the look on her face, I can tell I played into her hands. When she grasps my ankles and leans her head down, I suddenly don’t mind losing. Her kiss to my pussy makes me gasp, and she takes it as encouragement to nuzzle closer. I’m already hot and a little damp, but the feel of her tongue wriggling under my clit, then probing into me is starting to make me honest-to-goodness wet. She must notice, because I hear – and feel her groaning into my core.

When I do this with her, I like to reverse things; I tease her. I nibble a little here, some kissing there, maybe a bite to her butt. But Megan… She goes for the gusto. Her lips wrap around my clit and just when I thought it couldn’t get better than the feel of her tongue strumming against that nub, she’s slipping her fingers into me. I’m putty in her hands, and she knows it. I can tell because she’s smiling against me when I look down at her.

The feel of her fingers working inside me, wriggling and massaging, the heat of her mouth around my clit, even the way her other hand is stroking my cutie-mark, it’s all coming together. I can feel it start where her tongue is dancing, a familiar ache that spreads out in warm waves, growing more intense with each stroke of that smooth little tongue. I’m lifting my hips to her, and I’m pretty sure I’m calling out her name, though I can’t hear myself at just this moment. When the fluttering starts and she doesn’t stop, I allow myself to explode. I feel myself clench around the three fingers inside me as brilliant white sparkles appear before my eyes. Megan’s a keeper; she stretches out my bliss by tugging and suckling at me even more than before. When the crescendo has passed, and I can hear again, I’m a shivering, tingly wreck.

It takes me a few moments to catch my breath again; it’s not helping that Megan’s fingers are still working me slowly. “Oh, wow... Megan… I wish I could show you how good that feels!” I pant softly, reaching to brush a hoof over her head. She responds by giving my folds another kiss, and easing her fingers from me. My eyes are on her, hooves helping draw her up to cuddle next to me. The almost-tart taste of my sex fills my senses when she kisses me. For a long moment, I just drink it in, cleaning her lips with my own.

“You know, I have a way you can,” she mumbles against my mouth. I must look confused, because she shrugs and smiles. “Kinda?” She sits up, and clambers over me towards the bedside table. “Ponies do have toys, right Rainbow Dash?” I must still be looking dumb, until it dawns on me. That kind of toy. She gets a smug smile, and goes looking for whatever it is

Megan is leaning over to rummage in the drawer. I grin to myself at the sight of her round, pajama-clad rump. Of course, it could look better. I roll to my hooves, and shuffle over the mattress to her, taking a mouthful of the cotton pants and tugging them away. She yelps and laughs; her laughter is almost as great as her kisses, fast and fluid and musical. One of her hands reaches back to help me, giving my cheek a soft petting before easing the pants away. The scent of her arousal teases my nose, but before I can give my watering mouth the taste that it deserves, she’s turning and sitting. I know I’m pouting.

In her hand is a… “Megan, you look ridiculous holding that,” I laugh, squinting one eye. The toy’s shaped like a human’s cock – I’m guessing, it’s definitely no pony’s – and the black material wobbles a little in her hand. “When did you get that goofy thing, anyway?” Her other hand is holding what looks like a really complicated pair of her underwear, with straps and stuff.

“I picked it up a few days ago,” she says, and starts putting the two together. The toy slips through a hole in the front of the panties and.. oooooooh now I get it. She’s a little flushed as she sets it up. “I just haven’t brought it out ‘cause you’ve been sick all this time.” Of course. Sick. Achoo, achoo. She gives me that wonderful smile of hers and gestures for me to turn around. Nothing but good things can happen with my rump pointed at her, so I comply, giving my wings a few flaps.

Apparently she’s as bad at resisting temptation as I am. I feel her hands stroke against my flanks and over the cheeks of my ass. I shift my legs apart when she presses, my tail flipping to one side automatically. Her hands squeeze tighter, and then her tongue is pressing to me, lapping and tasting. She doesn’t delve in, even when I push back to her. I hear myself whine, needing more… and she responds by leaning away. I feel one leg lifted, then the other, and one final kiss to my soaked folds before she’s sliding her contraption up towards my hips. “Hold on, Dash, this may feel a little strange…”

My breath catches as something firm and round presses to me and starts to slip in. On instinct, I press back to it, feeling its thick, angled body press deeper. What I thought had been a handle on her toy is now buried inside me, just deep enough to work against my most tender spots with each tug Megan gives the harness. The straps feel a little odd, but when they’re tightened, the base of the toy rubs against my clit, and I find myself humping back against the sensation. Out of curiosity I peer down between my legs. Most of the firm toy’s two-hoof length wobbles between my thighs, and I can’t help but laugh at how goofy it looks. Megan is leaning back into the pillows, watching me have fun.

“He Megan, check this out!” I want to make her laugh again, and this is going to look ridiculous. I roll my hips to make the wobbly thing flop around. My laughter stops; when the toy flops like that, the part inside me pushes and rolls. My eyes go wide, and Megan bursts into a gale of laughter, so I guess that’s success. I can’t bring myself to tell her that I don’t think I’ve ever been wetter. Luckily, her next move sucks my words away, so I don’t get a chance to try.

She rolls to her hands and knees, arching her hips up to present herself to me. I just stare, my jaw slack as I take the sight in. Her round rump is adorned with a few freckles and, on the right cheek, her own ‘cutie mark’ tattoo of three fireflies. Those soft cheeks part downward to a tight little tailhole and, below that, the object of my attention; the glistening-wet folds of her pussy. Finally! My hooves clasp at her rump, and she murmurs softly, ‘please, Rainbow Dash.’ Oh, I please, alright. I need her. There’s a knot in my stomach that won’t come loose until I have her.

She cries out when I bury my mouth against her. The sweet, musky taste of her explodes against my tongue as I lap and suckle as much of her hot flesh as I can. I’m not worried about precision or delicacy; not this time. I’m worried about hearing her gasp my name. I’m worried about the feel of her rocking back against my mouth. I’m worried about the way she gasps and squeezes around me when I work my tongue as deep as I can. “Dash, Dash, Dash,” each breathy word coming when I thrust my tongue in. My hips are rocking too, that toy teasing my insides.

“Dash, please FUCK ME” she yells out. Without even thinking, I’m mounting her trembling body. She lists to one side, and I can feel her hand grasp my toy and guide it. My hooves clasp her waist, and she groans deeply when I slide in. With each nudge and tug of our bodies, the portion inside me presses deeper or tugs away. I work my hips, each time easing more into her, each time feeling myself be penetrated. Finally, I’m pressed all the way to her backside. She’s rocking back to me, groaning quietly and making the other end of the toy thrust and wriggle inside me. For a moment, I stay just like that, holding her close as our bodies get used to the sensation.

But she didn’t ask me to hold her, did she? I give the back of her neck a nip, and whisper to her, ‘Ready or not, here goes…’ She shudders and arches her back beneath me. I can’t really describe the sensation that’s caused when I pull back, the toy pressing against my clit while my muscles squeeze to keep it held inside. But thrusting back in makes me see stars, as the toy slams into both of us. I must be grinning like a lunatic before I clasp her waist even harder, and let my hips thrust.

Beneath me, Megan is rocking back to me, trying to match my rhythm. That must be hard, since I don’t have one; my hips are moving and rolling in whatever directions work that thick toy inside me. Each thrust drives all the way into her though, giving me the satisfaction of my thighs smacking against her ass, and hearing her yell out my name each time I fill her.

“Dash! Oh, ohhh, Dash! Gonna cum, gonna cum, Ohgodohgodogod…!” Her words melt together into a beautiful, wordless noise, sweet and wild. I don’t slow myself any, still lodging the full length of my ‘cock’ inside her with every move. She shudders and quakes, her cries filling the bedroom. I’m adding my own, hot, heavy breaths coming out as grunts and gasps. Finally, I thrust hard one last time and bite down on the back of her neck. The noises she’s making, the way she’s bumping and grinding under me…

I feel it start deep inside, like a spring coiling, and then release. Every muscle in my body trembles when I cum; most especially my wings, and I can almost hear the rustle of feathers over Megan’s orgasm-symphony. But my pussy… I feel myself clamp down on the toy, hard. It’s as if my muscles are pulling on it. With each squeeze, trickles of moisture spill onto my thighs and Megan’s ass. She gasps, sounding surprised. “Oh Dash… I can feel that… It’s like you’re cumming inside me… you naughty pony.”

I’m not sure why, but that makes the both of us laugh. Her wobbly body gives way, and we fall in a sweaty, overheated pile. My cunny is still twitching, and apparently still sending that through the toy, because Megan shivers a little each time. I take the time to kiss and nibble her shoulder and the nape of her neck. As the afterglow fades, a noise I’d thought to be my own erratic pulse turns out to be coming from the wall. “Oops, neighbors,” I say, all sheepishly. We both gasp when I draw out of her, and I feel soaked all over. I can’t think of any time I’ve felt much better than this.

Megan’s arms wrap around me, and eventually the neighbor is satisfied we’ll be quiet. “That was a little too much," she murmurs into my ear. She doesn’t sound at all like she minds too much.

“Yeah… but it was great though, right Megan?” She answers me with a flushed smile, and I curl my wings around her. “Thought so.” She gives me a poke at that, and we both giggle. I nuzzle into her neck and breathe her scent, filling myself with her for the moment. It’s quiet except for out breathes and the occasional kiss – and the television in the other room.

This isn’t home. I let my mind wander back to think what Applejack and Pinkie Pie and the others have been doing these last several months. And then I look to Megan and realize whatever it is they’ve been doing, I have them beat. Even if I never do find a way back, I think my stay here is going to be plenty worthwhile.