Author's Note

Characters used: Anonymous, Spike
Perspective: Second Person, Anonymous
Fetish: Advice
Type: Humor

F#2: The Move

"You been pretty quiet today dude, you alright?" you ask Spike, sipping your milkshake.

Spike toys with his straw, swirling the cherry around in that deep pit of whip cream no one drinks. Then he looks up at you, "w-we're friends, right Anon?"

"Of course man," you reply, leaning in.

"Uh, like, hmm..." Spike rubs the back of his scaly neck.

"Yes?" you encourage, rolling your hand for him to continue. Despite being being older, and physically large, Spike is still a bit socially awkward.

"I don't think I should be telling you this, but me and Rarity are suppose to uh, 'do it' tonight."

"THAT'S AWESOME!" you shout, diving over the table to give your old buddy a slap on the back.

He throws up his hands in shame, covering his face the second he notices everyone else in Sugarcube corner staring.

"Please Anon, this is very personal."

You were too excited to please Anon. This is a great development, you've been waiting for your virginal dragon-bud to finally berry his sword in that ass like King Arthur. No of course not, how is that weird? You're just being supportive! Spike cools off and his cheeks go from Tomato red to a more pinkish hue.

"No, no, not awesome. I have no idea how to do it, Anon," he says softly.

You withdraw back to your side of the table, patting the milkshake you spilled with a napkin. With your off hand you feel your beard under your mask. That chocolate is never coming out of your tie, you think to yourself.

"How much do you know?"

Spike looks left and right, scanning the room. You do as well, noting that most of the ponies still here have turned back to their own devices.

"I know what goes in, and where, and what everything looks like... but I dunno how to make it uh, good."

"Oooooh you don't have any 'moves'?"

He intensely rubs his neck, "y-yeah, those."

At least he has some basic knowledge of how things work. You feel like Rarity wouldn't be the kind of girl to care very much about performance, she seems pretty inexperienced herself. But maybe you could help him out a bit. . .

"I think I might have a few tips for you," you giggle at your pun.

Spike is too nervous to say anything, but he nods his head rapidly and rubs his hands. You pay your tab and lead him out into the Ponyville streets.

"Best we're out of such a public place for this," you say, looking down at the big blotch of chocolate on your red tie.

Son of a bitch, your favorite one too.

"S-so, come on spill it."

"Whoa cowboy, not so fast," you laugh to yourself, "what I'm about to tell you is sensative material."

"Okay," he says softly, looking up at you with innocent puppy eyes.

"You CANNOT repeat this to anyone," you say, waving one finger, and grabbing tightly onto your lapel.

"Of course, Anon!" his voice cracks a little, and he covers his mouth in shame quickly.

"Oy, still gettin' those, eh?"

He blushes.

"But seriously, this is MY move, and it never fails—if you do it right."

He nods rapidly.

"I call it... the 'based Anon Insta-cum reverse spiral midnight clock technique'," you say, waving your hands in an arc, wide smile on your face.

Spike squints at you in confusion, like you just told a joke so bad it made people angry.

"Really? That's a pretty embarrassing name."

"Hey, take it or leave it, kiddo. It's not me that hasn't been laid before," you turn your back on him dismissively.

"Ok wait! Don't be like that man. J-just tell me how to do it."

"Alright alright," you turn back and start off down the street with him, just taking a walk in the nice summer air.

Suppose to be nice a cool tonight, good night for a fuggin'.

"First things first, do you have a headboard?"

Spike taps his chin, "uh I think."

"Good, good, you'll need it..."

"And then you take your thumb and stick it in there, rotate about 90 degrees. Exactly 90, if you make an acute angle she don't feel it, obtuse and it'll hurt."

Spike looks down at his thumb.

"But wait... I have a question."

"Go ahead," you reply, crossing your leg.

The two of you were sat on a park bench. No one was around so it was pretty save to discuss your technique here.

"Is my thumb going in there while my... thing is in there too?"

You look at him with a taken aback expression, "of course."

"How is it gonna all fit in there."

"Don't worry, mares are pretty stretchy."

Spike's face expresses a hint of "I'm pretty grossed out".

"Don't worry dude, it's gonna be weird in there the first time."

"Are you sure all of that will work... I mean the part with her hoof in my—"

You cut him off.

"Just do all the steps, in order, perfectly, it'll work."

He rubs his forehead and looks down, deep in though.

"Also, if she passes out after the shaking, just leave her, she'll wake up naturally."

"Like leave the house?"

"No, no of course not. Just don't wake her up, she'll freak out on ya. Just lay down next to here and enjoy the post-coitus bliss."

"U-uh... alright, Anon. I'll trust you on this. I just hope I can do it all."

You gaze over at the Carousel Boutique from across the street, a pair of night-vision binocs pressed against your eyes. The light is on in the bed room, and you can see two shadows moving against each other. Been going on for about 15 minutes, not too bad. No screaming or loud noises yet. The squirting hasn't started yet either.

You pray he followed through with the 180 spin swirl, it's pivotal in making the thumb ending work. Wait, what's that! You enhance the zoom, and spot a shadowy arm shoot up from the pile of shadows, thumb extended proudly up.

"Here it comes," you hear a shaky, teen-dragon voice shout.

The arm dives back down. Rarity begins screaming in pleasure, perfectly audible all the way from your place across the street. Looking around you see lights flicking on in houses and apartments all over, ponies poking their heads out to see the source of the late-night disturbance.

You smile to yourself proudly. The only thing now was the sound of nice dress shoes slapping against pavement as you escaped back to your house.

"So this is what being a dad feels like you," you say to yourself, wiping away a tear.

Mission fucking accomplished.