Am I Confused?

The breakfast table was empty aside from myself and Gem. As I sat there, eating a simple breakfast of jam on toast, my sister looked at me with an expression of inscrutable confusion. I tried my best to ignore it, but progressively she would shift on her seat, adopting one posture after the other. She craned her head, focusing on me with one eye, and then the other.

“What?” I snapped at her, wishing I was eating something that required utensils so I could slam them down.

“Why are you smiling?” She asked me, which didn’t make sense. I wasn’t smiling, was I?

“I am?” I replied, my hoof going up to my muzzle, and I felt that a corner of my lip was indeed pulled back. “Huh, I am.”

“And that’s what doesn’t make sense,” she said, voice aloof, “you’re supposed to me downtrodden, depressed, and on the verge of tears.”

“Oh, and why is that, dear sister?” I replied caustically, taking a chomp out of my toast.

“Because your smile suggests that your date went fine, if not more so,” she scrunched up her face, a pursed lip frown indicative of dubiety, “and I simply cannot believe that.”

“You really hold that little faith in me, your little brother?”

“I hold precisely none. So my surprise is self-explanatory,” she suddenly leant forward, her bronze bangs swaying from the sudden movement, furrowing her brows, “you didn’t do this just to spite me did you?”

“Bitch, please. As if you were the reason why I, the biggest and most alpha stallion this side of Canterlot, did awesome in his date,” I replied with mock pride… ok, maybe a little pride. However I spoke with exaggerated sway, throwing my hooves up to punctuate every word with a punch.

She sneered, wrinkling her nose. “Ok, now I’m disgusted again,” she fell from the chair to her hooves, frowning with abhorrence as she left the kitchen. With a triumph gleam in her direction, I bit again into my toast. The crunch was victory, the sweet jam was my joy, and the soft crust was… bah, fuck it I’ve got nothing. It’s Friday, and I love Friday.

“I’m telling you dude, Luna controls the stars, not Celestia.”

“Hey, numb-nuts, you’d know if you actually listened in class that every star is a sun. So ipso facto, Celestia’s property.”

“Yeah, but Princess of The Night isn’t a fucking honorary title, bucko. If her domain is the night sky, then everything within it is in her control.”

“…Did you just say ‘bucko’?”

“You’re ignoring just what I said, Lu-“

“Fucking ‘bucko’!?”

I went back to ignoring the general chitter-chatter of the cafeteria table I was sitting at and looked back down at my tray of assorted ‘culinary’ refuse. I don’t know Maple stomachs this crap to be honest. You’d think being in Canterlot would mean the food would be better. I could literally leave the school right now, walk two blocks away, and pick up a good pastry or sandwich from the local deli. I fail to see the point of these meals, other than to justify the hefty budget this place gets, so they can skim a little extra money to line their own coffers. I know they’re free to the students, but who are they for exactly? They’re generally unpalatable, and It’s fucking Canterlot. I’m pretty sure the poor pony who was in such dire straits to require these free meals would end up getting lynched by a mob of hoity-toity aristocrats or something for soiling the city with their dirty hooves, the filthy plebeians… I hate being left to think.

Soon after Maple finally took his seat across from me, his tray heavy as always. I frequently wondered if his fat was some kind of cloak for a muscular body beneath. As soon as he sunk his teeth into his food however, allowing his drink to dribble down the corner of his mouth and staining the collar of his uniform, that thought shrivelled up and died a painful death.

“What’s up with you?” He asked me, glancing up from his food.

“Huh?”

“You’re smiling, like, all strange and shit,” he spoke out the corner of his mouth, his mouth already half filled with food.

“I am?” Again I felt around my jaw, and smirked, “I am.”

“Well, cut it out. It’s… weird,” he spend a few seconds in thought before spitting out the last part of his sentence, although I suspect he was
actually just swallowing.

“I can’t help that I’m happy, Maple,” I shrugged.

“Yeah, but what about?”

“I can’t say,” I replied, smiling coyly.

“Aw, come on, you can’t pull this shit a second time. Seriously, you’re starting to pi-“

“Hey you two,” Blossom Bloom greeted, sitting next to the fat colt, interrupting him; much to my glee.

“Hi, Blossom, how are you?” I asked, smiling wryly.

“Great, and you?” She replied politely, her smile pulled back to reveal some teeth, a twinkle in her eye.

“The same,” I punctuated with a warm smile, and then I felt her hoof brush against mine under the table. There was those butterflies again.

“Uh,” Maple knitted his brows, looking between me and Blossom, “so what the heck is this?”

“Nothing,” Blossom replied, smirking at him and unpacking her lunch.

“Are you sure about that?” He asked, scrutinising her with a despondent look about him. “Because to me it loo-“

He was caught off guard all of a sudden, as was I, being rendered in a state of terrified limbo. Beige coat, cerulean mane, and when he glanced at me and I saw those stunning emerald eyes. “H-hey, Synary.”

“H-hi,” despite the moment of intimacy we shared he was still meek, although this was likely due to the inclusion of both Maple and Blossom in this circle. Regardless, he still managed to pull off a small smile, and his eyes looked at me with a real tenderness.

“What the he-“ began Maple, looking at the colt with a bemused expression. Although his ears picked up the few murmuring voices around us, looking at this odd circle of ponies with a fascination worth gossiping about. Suddenly, Maple appeared to adopt an all too friendly candour about him, extending his hoof. “Hi, I’m Maple, you’re Synary right? Awesome name by the way.”

“H-hi, Maple,” Synary appeared reluctant, his hoof twitched as it pressed against Maple’s, shaking. The other ponies went slightly wide eyed, the sound of their whispers going a decibel higher, but still indistinguishable.

“New colt, right?” Blossom spoke, and I felt a thousand knots in my stomach.

“U-uh, yeah,” Synary nodded, a small curl at the end of his lip. I would be biting my hooves if I was already frozen still.

“Well, nice to meet you finally. I’m Blossom, Blossom Bloom,” she introduced herself, extending a waiting hoof.

“Nice to meet you t-too, Blossom Bloom,” their hooves touched, and I clenched my jaw, looking between the two of them nervously.

“Please. Just call me Blossom,” her voice was kind-hearted, and I visibly saw Synary’s posture sag slightly, his breaths calmed a tad.

“O-okay, B-Blossom,” he replied with a small smile, and her grin and accompanying smirk when they parted hooves made the metaphorical anvil on my back lighten slightly.

As I sat there, a see through stare directed at the table, Maple’s overly loud voice in my ears. I pondered internally about the situation that I had only myself to blame for. To further remind me of my mistake, Blossom’s hoof was still against mine, meanwhile one of Synary’s fore hooves had fallen to his side, tentatively brushing against my haunch. Neither in a sexual manner, just the desire for bodily contact, which made the whole affair somehow worse. At least it’s Friday, right?

“Want to do something Saturday?” Blossom asked me as we walked the halls, the assorted ponies gliding past us on their way out.

“Sure,” I said, preoccupied with thought.

“Is something the matter?” She asked, looking at me with concern in her eyes. Great, I’m now a bugaboo. It is touching she’s already able to
sense something wrong with me, or perhaps I wasn’t being subtle, regardless I appreciated it.

“No, nothing at all. Just relieved the day’s over, I guess,” I offered an explanation, and felt a tightness in my chest. Great, lying already.

“Hmm, alright. But you can tell me anything, you know that right?” She reassured, and her words felt like red hot nails into my heart.

“Y-yeah… So what did you have in mind?” I asked, desperate for a change in topic.

“Oh, nothing special. Just hanging out at the mall, maybe get something to eat, some light shopping,” her words were honeyed, and I arched a brow.

Big open area, lots and lots of ponies, and she’s a self-confirmed junkie for deviancy. “Why do I get the feeling there’s a few more things you’re missing out from that list.”

“Oh, you mean window shopping and dress fittings?” She said with a smirk, glancing at with a simper.

“Alright, alright. Which mall and what time?”

“Summer Point High mall, and… two, yeah two in the afternoon seems good.”

“Summer Point? Fancy. Would I be underdressed if I came in nothing?” I asked, chuckling.

“Who cares, right?” She shrugged with a smile, and I couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

When we entered the last stretch of hallway, the exit within view, I saw beside it a familiar colt. His face was downcast, but I could see his eyes glancing up, obviously searching for somepony in the thicket of students walking past. I gulped, looking at Blossom’s content expression with the worry of a thousand soccer moms.

“So, see you tomorrow?” My voice tremulous, glancing between Blossom and Synary at the end of the hall.

“Don’t want to walk home together?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. It’s just I forgot my math textbook in my locker, and you remember how Miss Median is with homework.”

“Okay, I getcha. But remember. Summer Point, two o’clock, right?”

“Right, right,” I nodded several times, and she walked ahead, looking over her shoulder to deliver a final smile before disappearing into the other crowd of students.

I stayed my steps, allowing others to pass by to wait a while longer, just watching Synary as he searched. This is so fucked isn’t it? I shouldn’t be allowed to like them both, there should be some kind of mental block in my head. Blossom, or Synary. Oh, you picked one? Now the other is dead to you. But it isn’t as simple as that is it? It physically pained me to lie to Blossom, and it agonises me to see Synary looking for me. I trailed my way over, pushing through the sparser crowd, and when he landed his eyes upon me and smiled, my heart leapt in my chest.

“Silver,” he sounded pleased to see me, taking a step toward me as I emerged from the crowd.

“H-hey, Synary,” my voice was wobbly, but I wore a smile to hopefully alleviate any worry he may have had, “why are you just waiting here?”

“O-oh,” he paused, averting his eyes with a small blush on his face, “I wanted to see you.”

“Ah,” I stuttered, his delivery help solidified my staunch position was that he was simply precious, “you did?”

“Yeah, I don’t have a reason, I just w-wanted to see you,” Synary’s words oozed a kindness and care I was unfamiliar with; what was the opposite of contempt?

“Well it’s nice to see you too,” I replied, kind of envious I couldn’t come close to matching his kindness, but seeing him lighten up in response to that had my heart feel light; almost as if it was floating away.

“I-I was just wondering though,” he started, barely able to look at me, “if you have any plans tomorrow. B-but if you do that’s fine!”

“I do,” I replied, and felt ready to collapse.

“Oh, right,” he responded, visibly disheartened.

“T-there’s Sunday!” I exclaimed, and internally I began to lash at myself. I shouldn’t, I really shouldn’t.

“Yes?” He smiled, hope rekindled, and whilst outside I smiled warmly, inside I was smacking myself in the head.

“So, do you want to, I don’t know… do something… together?”

“L-like a… date?”

Silver, listen. You’re dating Blossom. It was one date, but still. We shared something intimate, and he wants more. Heck, I want more. However, this is the wrong thing to do, completely wrong. I would be betraying both of their trusts if I do this… but, what was that yesterday I said about taking the initiative? I doesn’t have to move beyond this, just one experience together we can fondly remember. It will be under the guise of fostering greater relations, and further intimacy, but as long as I remain in control that won’t happen will it… will it?
“Yeah,” I replied, smile gracing my lips at the sight of his surprise, which came in the form of a slightly ajar mouth and wide eyes.
“R-really?” Normally I’d be equally surprised that anypony is expressing this level of surprise that I, a colt who only a few days ago was as insignificant as an ant in spring, was asking them out. But instead I was too overcome with a jovial warmth being bathed over me, his slight step forward to further decrease the gap between us, as well as his wide grin the cause of this. “Where?”

“Uh…” Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

The nice café was out of question, I don’t know enough about him to judge what he’d like, and when your grand total of dates ever amounts to one your knowledge of where they are best had is meagre at best. Think Silver, pick something that isn’t cliché or tacky, and actually requires effort, and will impress. My faith in my ability to judge by this point is strained, but as long as I have confidence, and hope in myself, my choice of locale should be commendable. I have conviction that I will make the right decision.

“No, no, no, no, no,” déjà vu aside, the hope I thought already depleted in myself hadn’t actually all evaporated yet, however when I got back home I had also lost that little trickle that remained. “A picnic at the park, what the fuck am I, twelve?!”

“Ah, self-berating again I see,” Gem announced her entrance with a chiding comment, sitting in father’s recliner.

“Yes, now if you don’t mind, I have much more of it to do,” I replied with a snap.

“I’m all ears,” she surprisingly offered, and this prompted from me a look of bemusement.

“Really?”

“As long as it involves your filly friend totally humiliate-“

“Yeah, yeah,” I interrupted, making my voice as bored as possible.

“Rude,” she chuckled, which sounded grating to my ears.

“You’re very predictable, Gem.”

“Ouch,” she replied with mock pain, grinning. “Well I can say you’re at the very least unpredictable. One moment your my sad sack of a brother with an erection over my copy of playmare, next you had a successful date, with a mare no less. And now you’re back home moping on the couch. So I have to admit, and you’ve forced this from me, but I’m a little curious.”

“Huh?” I sat back up on the couch, crossing my fore hooves.

“Yes?”

“I guess you’re a little surprising too,” I said bluntly, to which she gave a curled lip smile.

“So go on, tell me,” she sounded a little impatient, and I shrugged.

“I’ve got another date, but this time I picked where it’s at,” I explained, inching a bit closer to the other side of the couch to get closer to her.

“And?” She looked at me askew, confused as to what the problem was.

“And I chose,” taking a brief inhale, “the park.”

“That’s it?” She exclaimed, visibly disappointed. “It’s fine. Plus if your first date with this mare went well, this shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Yeah, but,” I paused, bracing, “it isn’t the same mare. Actually, it’s not a mare at all.”

Her stare was deadpan, and her eyes delivered with them the amount of ire I was expecting, but less than I hoped. Without a word she pushed herself from the recliner, and began to walk away. “You’ve managed to do it twice today. Bravo.”

“No, wait, please!” I pleaded, “I really need somepony to talk to about this.”

“Why not, Maple?” I paused, looking behind herself with a sneer.

“Because he’s not someone I can confide in, he’s not my sister.”

She paused her steps, sighing into the air. “Fine. But only the condition you tell me their names.”

“Uh…” I hesitated, and when she began taking steps away, I frantically began to speak, “wait, wait! Blossom and Synary.”

“Wait,” she stopped, turning around to face me with furrowed brows, her face that of intrigue. “Blossom, as in ‘Blossom Bloom’?”

“Y-yeah...”

“Oh-ho, this is so perfect,” she said with a scary amount of glee, jogging back to the recliner and hopping upon it with giddiness. “Ok, tell me everything.”

“W-wait, I have conditions too,” I spluttered out, still taken by surprise at her gusto.

“You’re asking for my help, remember?”

“Please?” I squeaked, and she rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” she said, rolling her head and crossing her hooves, “but embargo only.”

“What?”

“You know, a block. But only a temporary one. No matter the condition,” she explained with shrug, “I want to do as I please with this information.”

“What can you even use it for, you don’t even go my school anymore?”

“Yes, little brother,” she replied with condescension, “but you won’t believe what a titbit like ‘Blossom Bloom, daughter of the principal of Canterlot’s most prestigious school, also brother of Celestia’s chief accountant. Just so happens to be going out with my brother, who just also so happens to be a rampaging sodomite.’ Although depending on what I’m using it for, that last bit may be removed or added at my discretion.”

“That’s a bit sensationalist isn’t it? Also, I still fail to how it helps you in any way.”

“Well, that’s your fault for being naïve,” she pointed at me, which was somehow just as infuriating as being called naïve.

“Fine, fine, whatever,” I rolled my eyes.

“So, Synary… how’s he?”

“Kind, good looking, adorab-“

“Ok, already too weird,” she pulled a wry expression.

“But you asked me about him!” I lambasted, looking at her with confusion.

“Yeah, but hearing my brother talk about cute colts is one hoof over the line, which I will apologise for, I guess,” she pursed her lips into a frown. “How about blossom?”

“Well, she’s cute, kind, and adorable.”

“Isn’t that how you described, Synary?”

“Yes. They’re both, for lack of a better term, perfect in every way,” I pursed my lips and nodded slowly, letting it set in.

“Wow, I’m taken aback. I don’t think even I have been described as perfect. Not even by any of my exes I was in a relationship with…” she paused, looking off, “bastards.”

“So what should I do?”

“Ha, I don’t know!” She replied, shrugging and smiling with mock.

“What! I asked you for help and all you can offer is ‘I don’t know’?”

“In truth, if I was you, I would drop one of them to the curb to be honest.”

“But I don’t want to,” I said stubbornly, grumpy.
“That sounds to me like greed, brother mine.”

“I don’t want either to be hurt.”

“Oh,” she sounded oddly sombre, craning her neck to look at me in the eyes, “you actually care about those two?”

“Well,” I began, not even taking a second to think because I already knew the answer, “yeah. I do.”

“Shit, that’s heavy. I don’t think I can even help you with something like that.”

“You can! Just, please be somepony I can talk to about this. I hate just having it all balled up inside me like some kind of tonsil stone.”

“Ew.”

“I know right?”

There was a brief moment of silence, and I heard her sigh.

“Fine,” she relented, sitting back in her chair, “but you know grandpa would have beat you up for going out with two different ponies, right?”

Ah, Grandpa Roadie. He was ‘allegedly’ (he totally was.) a Nightmare Moon cultist who was illegally selling pony meat to griffons. He was likely the main reason for Mother’s ultra-conservatism, reverence of Luna, and her strange talent with accounting. Grandpa was locked up a few years back, but I think his last words before being mowed down with concussive magic bolts by the royal guard were clippity-cloppity, get off my property! Which I suppose were pretty good considering they would be the last he’d ever speak outside prison walls. Nice and memorable. I wonder what his brother Hayseed is up to these days… Wait, what the hell am I talking about, Gem just agreed to help me.

“Thanks, Gem,” I sounded genuinely happy, and I felt an emotion rise in my heart that I had to let out. “I love ya, sis.”

She looked at me with disgust, and I grimaced, and she pushed from her recliner with haste.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did that,” I got off the couch, giving chase, “No, wait, Gem come back! I didn’t mean it! I hate you, I hate you so much! Sorry, sorry, sorry…”

Summer Point High Mall was, well, nice, to put it simply. One would be surprised by the fact that, despite its size, it wasn’t that discernable from the rest of Canterlot. It was massive, walls of smooth cut white brick, a roof of gold slate. Although this being Canterlot, the likely owner of this conglomerate was incomprehensibly rich, the roof may have been actual gold. But I don’t have necessary equipment nor bravery to scale the structure and find out for myself.

I entered the mall, the inside even more boisterous and loud than the cafeteria hall at school. Hundreds of mares and stallions going about, in and out of the smorgasbord of shops, the sheer amount of which was almost dizzying to my stallion mind. Clothing, chocolate, donuts, art supplies, jewellery, toys, and a variety of others going off beyond the reach of my sight. A fountain was positioned between the two sets of stairs, the huge ornate structure was made entirely of smooth marble, and even the waters that cascaded down the spire in the middle looked expensive. Maybe it’d be worth bottling up…

Beside the fountain sitting on her haunches I saw Blossom Bloom, who had already lain her eyes upon me and sported a mirthful grin on her face. “Silver!” She called, her voice resonating off the walls of the spacious building.

I hastened my steps, clopping hooves against the floor. Apparently the architect loved marble, the sunlight from the glass ceiling nearly bright enough to be irritating to the eyes. “Hey, Blossom. How are you?”

“Good now that you’re here,” Blossom said foxily, and I couldn’t help but grin.

“Oh, stop. You’ll make me blush,” I jested, smirking.

“I believe already did a good job of that time we had a date,” she quipped, and I felt my cheeks burn at the memory.

“So what’s the plan?” I asked, changing topic, nervously spluttering a few chuckles.

“Well, whilst nothing can top going under the table,” she smirked, likely at my averted gaze and red cheeks, “I was thinking we could just… walk and talk.”

“Huh?” I arched my brow, half smiling, “I’d like that very much.”

She nodded, and lead the way at a leisurely pace, and I walked beside her with a hoof width of distance between us, and was caught by surprise when she closed the gap; pressing her body against mine, her warmth an idyllic feeling that’s hard to describe. I was pleasantly surprised by this public display of affection, especially considering the chances of running into a familiar face from school in such a place, but by the quaint smile and contented expression I’m guessing she didn’t care.

We talked, which surprised the heck out of me, as I found myself not short of things to say. I even made her laugh, and each of those moments the entire mall seemed to fade out as she took a breath, almost as if I was subconsciously blocking out all other distractions just to hear every sound she made. Even her hoof steps sounded louder than my own, and I was a colt. Whenever the light from above shone over her, her emerald eyes seemed to sparkle like light off a lake… Celestia, I’m so gay, which is ironic all things considered.

Coincidently we passed by a card store, and Blossom stopped to look at the cards on display, and giggled to herself at that the selection. “You’re my macaroni and I’m your cheese?”

“Look at that one! A jigsaw piece, and you complete me written above it,” I joined in, poking fun at the cheesy card covers.

“These are terrible,” she laughed, sighing as she took a step away from the glass.

“What would you write on your card?” I asked, looking at with a curious expression.

She laughed politely. “How about, ‘I’ll be your barn, if you be my cow?’”

“No,” I chuckled, moving from the window, “what would you write inside?”

“Hmm,” she curled her lip, glancing up in thought before shaking her head, “I don’t know. I’m not great of thinking of things like that. How about you?”

“I-I don’t know,” I stuttered, and this appeared to visibly arouse her suspicion.

“You wouldn’t have asked me if you didn’t already have some ready to say,” she said, inching across the floor eagerly, “go on, I know you have some.”

“Umm, I like your mane like that, the way it flows down the back of your neck. L-like a red river of silk, or something. I don’t know…” I was bashful, chewing the inside of my cheek, but she inched forward.

“Yeah?” She encouraged, her smile was toothy, and I felt required to oblige.

“Your eyes twinkle in the sunlight, like rays off the ocean. And like the sea, I could happily drown in it, because looking into your eyes before I die would leave me content.”

“Yeah…” she said this time softer, her eyes matching the tone of her voice.

“A-and when I feel your warmth it feels like I’m at home, no longer afraid or uncertain of anything. Heaven and home is wherever you are. Each breath you exhale is like a tiny little gift for me, and your smile is brighter than even the sun, an-“
I suddenly found myself interrupted by being strangled, but it was a strangulation I was happy to be receiving. Blossom Bloom filling the gap between us with herself and wrapping her hooves around my neck in a tight embrace, her muzzle in the nape of my neck. “I like you.”

“M-me too… w-wait, I mean I like you too, not that I like my-“

“Shut up.”

“Okay.”

This was nice. I don’t think I’ve hugged anypony like this before. I rested my head on top of hers, and wrapped a hoof my own around her neck, keeping one down as it would have led to us smacking head first into the floor. Which would have undoubtedly ruined this moment, or made it more memorable, who knows.

She was the first to part from the hug (because of course she did), and looked at me with furrowed brows and a small smile. “I want you.”

“T-thank you,” my voice wobbled, and she smirked, the look adoration on her face wiped away with a large smile.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing one of my hooves and tugging, “let’s skip to the end.”

I followed her, her strides large and quick. Finally my gym classes weren’t in vain as I was able to keep up with her with nary a lost breath, occasional glances from other ponies kept my vision from straying too far off Blossom, whose position in front gave me an excellent view of her plot, which helped ferry me along somewhat.

After several minutes of frantic trailing, she suddenly came to a halt, lightly panting as she turned to face me. “Ta-da.”

“A… dress shop?” I asked, taking in my new surroundings.

“A boutique!” She corrected.

“And why are we at a boutique?” I asked, looking at the fancy storefront. The paint was lilac, the large glass window polished to perfection, behind there was a couple of mannequins with expensive looking clothing on them.

“Trust me, this is the intended destination,” she explained, and I looked at her askew.

“If you wanted me to buy you a pretty dress, I’m sorry but I was forced to leave all my bits in the café,” I said half joking half worried. Would she bolt if I can’t buy her a dress?

“Don’t be silly, “ she chided, walking past me, “who goes to a boutique for the dresses?”

I followed her, and needless to say I was thoroughly confused. Why would this be the grand finale of this date? “So… why are we here?”

“You’ll see… and feel… and taste,” she paused before pushing on the door, a little jingling bell ringing both sounding the opening to the door and signal my pathetic arousal at the delivery of those words.

“Now this fabric simply cannot do!”

“Listen ma’am, it’s all we have.”

“I asked clearly for blanc ivoire, not blanc comme neige!”

“I don’t know what to say ma’am. You asked for white Prench velvet, I gave you white Prench velvet.”

“I’ve been scouring Canterlot all day for this fabric, and I sent out a mailing list with a request for those specific requirements, and your store replied. Yet when I get here, I get hooved the wrong fabric. This is simply unacceptable!”

At the counter there was a very out of place stout green unicorn stallion with a yellow mane, and across from him with a tired and irked expression was a white unicorn mare with a stylised lavender mane. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her.

“Yes?” The stallion looked relieved, glancing at the duo of Blossom and I with haggard eyes. “Can I help you?”

“Why yes,” Blossom’s voice underwent a strange change, sounding metres more sophisticated than I was familiar with, prompting my knitted brow stare. “However, I see you’re currently occupied. Perhaps me and my friend here could wait until you’re finished?”

“I suppose so,” he sighed, the mare looking a tad offended at his resignation but didn’t speak up about it, “just wait by one of the fitting rooms, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“Thank you,” Blossom stopped to nod, “when you’re free to help that would be most capital.”

“Now, about that fabric…” the unicorn mare butted in, and I couldn’t help but feel a modicum of sympathy for the shopkeeper.

Without a word I followed Blossom. Whilst another pony would be captured by the intricate dresses on display, or the hundreds of spools of fabrics, which even from a distance looked as soft as… well, silk and velvet. Which they probably were. I instead fine my eyes glued to Blossom. I didn’t know if I was looking at her because I was behind her, so her plot was forcibly shoved in my face in the densely packed shop, or because I simply want to lay my eyes on her. Compared to the masterpieces of the shop, their beauty held no candle to he- dammit, I’m doing it again. I should have written these down, maybe I could’ve recycled them into love letter or something. Songs of the heart, or something like that. She’d dig it, maybe. I do have a day before I meet Synary, maybe I could put something like that together for him… nah, that’d be too weird. We’ve had a grand total of four conversations, maybe such a thing would render him catatonic.

“Here we are,” announced Blossom, stopping before a moderately sized wooden door towards the store’s back. On a gold plaque was written in large black elegant font were the words: fitting room.

“So…” I teetered off.

She signed, a little chuckle at the back of her throat. “Come on, Silver,” she pushed the door open and I followed, closing it behind myself.

“Wow… spacious,” I observed, a comment I immediately realised was dumb and cringed. The dressing room obviously looked the part of one, a large mirror against the back wall reflecting both me and Blossom’s faces right back at us, prompting me to grimace knowing she most likely saw my face convulse with self-loathing.

“Yes, a lot more than I had to work with than the café,” she said, turning and taking a few steps back.

Public, chance of discovery, definitely breaking some kind of law… yes, all of those are checked.

“O-oh…” I looked toward the mirror, and saw as she flicked her tail giving me a brief, albeit wonderful, view of her cu- puss- vagi- flower!

“Looks to me someone already got the hint,” she wittily remarked, and I looked under myself, my cock the equivalent of a hair trigger apparently at the sight of anything worth penetrating… aside from mouths, could you imagine?

“Y-yeah, he’s a little eager and impatient. Not like I, a gentlecolt,” I ended with a grin, much to her amusement.

“Okay, Mr Silver esquire, perhaps you return the lady a favour?” her grin had already turned lustful in nature, or maybe I was misinterpreting, but I doubt it.

“And what would that be, m’lady?” I put on a fruity voice.

“Eat me out of course,” she said such an indifference that it physically made me wheeze in surprise, catching a gasp in the back of my throat mid gulp.

“Uh, ho-, wh-, um…” I swallowed, my face burning up.

“What’s the matter?” She asked, coming closer, a sultry smile on her lips.

“I, uh, get that the cup holds liquid, I just don’t know what to put in it.”

“What?” What?

“I don’t know, you know… how to go about it, is what I’m saying,” I spluttered nervously.

“Neither did I,” she shrugged, and my jaw was left ajar.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, ‘just lick and such’ is pretty much all I went on,” she put blunt, and I found my pursing my lips and nodding in agreement.

“Huh. If I can make you feel half as good as you made me, from that advice anyway, then I’ll be happy,” I was actually a little excited, my words overlapping slightly. “But, how long will we have?”

“Less and less time the longer we keep talking,” she too wanted haste, which I was all to fine with actually.

“Okay,” I began, nodding with a smile, before slowing to a unsure stare. “Could you, you know, get… ready?”

“O-oh, yeah, but of course!” There was a momentary catch in her throat, and for the first time I think, she displayed a hint of shyness.
Regardless, I felt a frenzy of emotion in my stomach, buzzing flies of excitement, eagerness, reluctance and fear all moving around and writhing out one another like worms in a freshly dug pit. She moved back against the mirror, sitting on the floor, pressing her back against it. I remained frozen as she parted her legs, her tail like a red carpet to the star between her legs, that is, the precious pair of puffy crimson lips with a slit of light pink between. I had never seen one, at least other than in the contents of a magazine or sex-ed in class. But despite this, I was utterly fascinated, and I fluttered toward it, like a wee moth to a large flickering flame.

I walked into a crawl, and crawled into a prowl, alighting my eyes with the little pink slit between her legs. My barrel brushed against the carpet, my hind hooves raised to push myself forward and so that the carpet wouldn’t irritate my erection. Blossom fidgeted, her hooves moving from eagerness or agitation, her expression stoic; bits of excitement came through however, her lip being held between her teeth. When my face was close enough to feel the warmth of her treasure against my face, I looked at it with widened eyes, peering over with complete fascination.

“C-can I…?” I said, glancing up at her, my voice quiet.

“Sure,” she replied, her legs spreading even wider, and her voice was just as muted as mine.
This moment as of now is the most intimate one we’ve had, and even though the risk of being caught is ever present at the back of my head, I wanted to savour it. The tip of my hoof brushed against one of her plump lips, and she inhaled sharply through her teeth, but I wasn’t naïve enough to mistake it for pain. I pressed into the soft warm flesh, surprised by how delicate it felt, especially when contrasted to my own cock – hard and admittedly unsuited for display – but her flower wouldn’t look out of place in a gallery, and knowing Blossom as much as I do, I suspect she’d rather like that. My second hoof joined the first in prodding her femininity, my eyes glancing up to see her eyes were closed, reddened cheeks and just simply basking I imagine the pleasantry. Curious, I carefully pulled at each lip, parting them to reveal the pink insides of her marehood. The pink petals surrounded a canal, and from it I was assaulted by an aroma that immediately prompted a strong response from my cock, in the form of a stomach smacking twitch which I’m sure already brought forth a bead of precum from the tip.

“Whoa,” I blurted, and Blossom opened her eyes to look down at me.

“Like what you see?”
“Y-yeah…” I teetered off, enamoured with the sight of it, “do you think you could…”

“What?”

“Y-you know…” I answered, bashful.

“I’m not a savage, Silver. You already know I want it.”

“P-please?” I asked mildly, and she rolled her eyes.

“Fine.”

Just then, right before my very eyes, her clitoris became exposed; disappeared and remerged several times from its place. The sight of her winking clit both aroused me, and puzzled me.

“That’s so weird looking.”

“Hey!” She exclaimed, prompting me to look up in alarm.

“Sorry, sorry. If it helps, it looks outstandingly hot.”

“Outstanding?”

“Outstanding!” I punctuating with a nod and serious expression, summoning from her throat a giggle.

Seeing as I already became familiar with four of my five senses regarding her honeypot, I wanted to waste no further time getting familiar intimately with the final unexplored sense: taste. My tongue darted from my muzzle, pressing against her warm twat with my moist tongue, eliciting from her for the first time a pleasured squeal. I dragged my tongue up and down the length of her slit in an exploratory feel, the taste was mixing of contrasts, managing to be sweet and bitter. A taste which reminded me quite a lot of cherries, which fortunately for both me and her… I like cherries.

I dragged my tongue in messy licks, plastering my muzzle with her juices, her folds were apparently sensitive given how frequently she released moans. Although that may have been her by this point obvious exhibitionist kink, which lead me to believe she could have been louder, if she didn’t want the pleasure to stop that is. Next I tried exploring her internally, my tongue unaided by my eyes swirled downward pressing into her soft pinkness, looking for the elusive hole. I felt a moment of triumph when tongue gave way to be embedded inside a warm and tight corridor, which too was marked by a particularly fired moan from Blossom, as well as the sight of her winking clit right before my eyes.

I swirled my tongue in her elastic tunnel, her hole tightened around my wet muscle. I pushed against her walls, the tip of my tongue nudging against the tightly constricting walls, and I could only imagine the ecstasy this would bring for my meat should it get the chance to experience it. When I unburied my tongue from her hole, the taste of her most assuredly on my lips for the foreseeable future, she released
a small whimper.

“Come up here,” she demanded, which I assumed by the soaking wetness of her cunt and the clenching of her jaw, was a demand I shouldn’t ignore.

I crawled up her frame, my body pressing into hers as I did so, my twitching erection came mournfully close to her cunt, so close in fact I could feel its warmness on the underside of my cock. When I came up to her level, looking her eye to eye, I awaited patiently for her to speak; the tip of my shaft pressing into her stomach.

“D-do you want me to kiss you?”

“No. Not yet,” she whispered, a delicate blush on her cheeks.

“Why not?” I asked tentatively.

“Not this moment, I want to save it,”

“For somepony else?” I asked, a tinge of sadness in my voice.

“No, no, no. You’re who I want it to be with, but I want it to be special. Not in the backroom of some shop, a real moment to remember,” she spoke with a unheard tenderness, stroking my cheek and looking me in the eyes with a small smile.

“When?”

“When,” she spoke low, bring my head into her chest and my ear to her lips, “you’re buried to the hilt in my tight cunt, and we’re screaming in ecstasy with one another. That’s when.”

“O-oh,” I was taken aback, and was surprised that by this point I could still blush. I pulled out of her grip, and upon looking down I saw that a certain someone was also appealed by that idea, crying out his only eye onto her stomach; a sticky clear liquid matting to her fur. “I-I think I’m ready for that now, actually.”

“No, you never have sex until the third date,” she was resolute, and I was just confused.

“What? I mean, considering what happened last time and now, it seems kind of contradi-”
I suddenly felt a pair of hind hooves wrap themselves around my lower body, and the base of my shaft was suddenly pressed against a moist softness. “What if I just want to make when we do, do it more special?”

“O-okay,” I my hooves shake, my cock was literally pressing against her tunnel, the moist lips already feeling like heaven to my shaft.

“Now we’re gonna do something else, okay?”

“Yeah okay,” I squeaked, my shaft lightly pushing against her stomach, by body barely able to control itself.
Without another word, she began to slide downward, until she was beneath me. I looked down at her, to see my cock just ending at the underside of her chest. I felt her tighten her hind hooves around me, sandwiching my meat between the two of us, and I saw her lick her lips.

“Ok, so what you’re going to do is grind.”

“Just move back and forth?”

“Align your ring thing with my clit, can you do that?”

“S-sure,” I complied, her grip loosening to allow me to shimmy down, biting my lower lip when my medial ring pressed against her snatch; her clit winking on the underside of it, her eagerness evident as well.

“Just… gyrate.”

I followed her instruction, spreading my hind hooves, I ground my hips into her, my hard cock and sensitive ring finding the simple act pleasurable. As did Blossom, who released curt exhales through her open maw, her eyes closed and head back. It was like a softer warmer tongue was delivering little slashes against my cock, her winking clit prodding into my shaft was also a different kind of magic sensation, the room now filling with my unmuted groans.

As time passed I applied more pressure, my gyrations becoming more alike thrusts, sliding back and forth over her sensitive nub with a lustful energy; her pot so moist with juices that the action was audible, with every slight raise and press of my hips, was with it a smack of wet flesh. She too tried different tricks, wrapping around me more tightly, her hips occasionally bucking back against my own. If I couldn’t kiss her, I’d try something else. I lowered my lips to her neck, sucking at the nape of her neck.

“A love bite? How romantic,” she wrapped her forehooves around my neck, smirking.

“S-shut up.”

The next minute the room was just filled with intermittent moans and groans. Back and forth our hips grinded against one another, the smell of her sex and my sweat conjoining into a lusty cocktail. To my surprise she dragged her tongue up my neck, a move I surmise driven only I imagine my a moment of lecherous want.

“Cum.”

“W-what?”

“Please, I’m so close just do it,” dare I say she begged, her clit rapidly winking under my shaft.

She tightened her grip around me like a vice, and her cunt began to slide up and down my shaft in tandem with my thrusts, slicking my meat with her love sap. Her vaginal strokes were rapid, and I nearly buckled under the sudden barrage of pleasure on my cock, which throbbed between our bodies. Blossom’s moans increased in volume, and I bit my lip to suppress mine, a familiar tightness forming in my abdomen and sack.

Without warning I bucked, my cock flaring as seed poured forth from the tip, crushed between our bodies it just kind of pooled into our fur. I felt Blossom’s clit wink quickly, before gradually slowing down, no doubt had she leaked all over the carpet. We pressed into each other’s napes, panting into the other’s coat. After a while she pulled away, and looked between our bodies, smirking.

“Now that looked weird.”

“Hey,” I exclaimed, mock offence, grinning slyly as an idea popped into my head.

I travelled down, earning her attention and arched brow. “What are you doing?”

“Pffft!” A flatulent sound that was followed by her laughs, as I blew a raspberry into her cunt.

“Ha-ha, stop it, stop it!” She half laughed, half begged, kicking her hooves.

Suddenly, leaving us both frozen, eyes widened, the door clicked open. “Sorry for the wa- Ah…”

The stallion, displaying a surprising amount of stoicism, simply looked at us from the door. I wore a weak smile, and his expression didn’t waver.

“Whatever is the matter darling,” the white unicorn mare’s voice sounded, her head coming into frame of vision, looking into the room. She at first looked surprised, eyes wide and mouth slack, but then adopted a humoured expression. “At least chivalry hasn’t yet died.”

“That was embarrassing.”

“That was hilarious!”

Me and Blossom walked beside each other, just outside the mall, long after leaving the shop. For the second time in only two days we left a place packed with ponies, and she had some congealed semen on her. Although I too wasn’t without stain, my muzzle plastered with a juice which if I was fortunate enough, other ponies would mistake only for soda or some other sticky liquid. Additionally, something we both shared, was cum on the underside of our bodies. Showers were a must.

“Hey, look at that,” she said, suddenly veering off. I followed as she stopped before a poster of some kind. “’Filthy sodomite in need of good punishing and riding. Stallions need not apply. Wow, I do not feel sorry for the desperate stallion who put this up. Also, too much info with that poster, friend.”

“Let me see,” she shuffled over for me, and I looked over with a fascinated smile. On brown paper there was a crude sketch of a stallion, below it personal details obviously exaggerated for self-garnishment. My smile widened, the bizarre singles ad was hilarious to me, there was even a telephone number at the bottom, as if it wasn’t red flaggish enough. However when I looked over the numbers my expression became more confused as familiarity washed over me, and then like rubbing a mare’s flank unsolicited – it hit me.

“Mother!” I yelled with the rage of a million hungry Maples, my mouth stuffed with the poster I had torn from the mall wall. I had convinced Blossom it was a souvenir, but it turned out to be pointless, as I saw many others plastered around the city. I stomped into the home peering for any sight of her, before making my destination the living room.

My traipsing steps were loud, likely because I was taking my anger out on the poor undeserving floor, although it was lessened somewhat as it just sounded like a fat colt’s clops. Snaking through the halls and barging into the living room, Mother was sat with visible agog by the rotary phone, Twinkle sat on the opposing side with the same indifference I had come familiar with.

I spat out my mouth the poster onto the carpet, earning a wide eyed look of confusion from Mother. “What is this?!”

“That my dear, is my understanding of why you didn’t want to accept the services of darling Twinkle,” she said with audible pride, a smug expression on her face.

“And pray tell, why didn’t I want to take a prostitute into my bed? No offence, Twinkle.”

“Meh,” Twinkle replied, monotone. Although her expression was no longer blank, her brow arched and her eyes slits.

“Your pride of course,” Mother stated as a matter of fact, and I looked at her with open mouth bemusement.

“What!”

“You didn’t want the easy solution to the conundrum of your sexuality. I have long since realised that your brief skirting with the same sex is nothing more than an issue of self-confidence. You don’t think mares are attracted to you, neither do you want the easy route to confirming your true self. Thus, I concocted this genius idea. So be rest assured, dear, these posters will have all the mares clamouring for you like seagulls to a box of hayfries!” Her voice was triumphant, and I just looked at her flabbergasted. How is it possible for anyone to askew events to this degree? This truly is art, as her line of thinking would surely create a picture so incoherent that many a critic would call it ‘art’, as I’m sure it would fit the parameters.

“He’s already done something with a mare,” Twinkle suddenly spoke, her voice still monotone.

“W-what?” My voice quivered, looking at her with a mixture of horror and surprise. Mother has a maid-prostitute with the acute senses to
sniff marecum, truly a living marvel.

“Are you sure, Twinkle?” Mother sounded elated, leaning toward her with eager expectation.

“I can smell it,” she stated simply, shrugging.

“My baby colt isn’t a stallion lover after all!” Mother cheered, bolting from the couch faster than I’ve ever seen her move, swooping me up into a tight hug. “I’m so proud!”

“R-right…” I acquiesced. At least she was happy… right? Maybe it would be best if I didn’t say anything about Synary.

“Twinkle, go take down all the posters, my son is straight!”

“All five hundred?”

“Yes! Now chop-chop.”

“Okay,” Twinkle, for the first time, sighed. I wonder how much Mother is paying her exactly…

I managed to persuade Mother to not hold a celebration, arguing from a ‘humble’ angle, which is absurd as I have no pride to begin with. I sat resigned on my bed, thinking over the packed day I just had with a conflicted hue. It had been on my mind leaving the room with Mother, it had remained still during my shower, and continued to stay with me on my bed. Blossom remains wonderful, Synary still brings a smile to face at the thought of him, and I had to pick between the two.

“Silver?” I saw my Father peeking through the door, “Ah, good. You’re not masturbating like your Mother believed.”

“Ugh,” I grimaced as he walked inside, “what do you want, Dad?”

“Nothing really,” he said… whilst sitting on my bed, expression neutral.

“Father…” I stressed, and he looked sideways at me.

“Alright,” he said like a annoyed, well, teen. “You didn’t have sex with that mare just to please your Mother did you?”

“Father… take a step back and think about what you just said.”

“Son,” he took a more relaxed posture, looking me in the eye, “I just want you to be sure of who you are, that’s my concern.”

Wait a second. Is he trying to tell me something? Wait, it all makes sense now! The magazines, his steadfast acceptance of my coltcuddlery, and his happiness over his reveries. “Dad… are you gay?”

“Haha, heavens no!” He wiped a tear from his eye, laughing, and I looked at him bewilderment.

“Then why do you keep all that… stuff?”

“They’re memories aren’t they? A reminder of who I was. For a long time I thought I was somepony else. Admittedly it was a happy time in my life. But the moment I laid my eyes on your mother, and I knew I destined to be her husband. Whilst the past was great, my time with your mother surpassed the best days of those times. That stuff is just a reminder, kind of like a photograph or a diary. You don’t want to forget the good times just because you’re somepony else now. Memories make the pony, and they should be treasured.”

“Wow dad, that was… oddly profound,” I congratulated with knitted brows, finding his particular ‘photos’ of the past a little unorthodox, but whatever works I guess.

“I have my moments,” he said, chuffed.

“Well, thanks, I guess. That actually kind of helped, in a way.”

“With what?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“I could go in-depth if you’d like. I’ve got a lot of memories on hoof I can sha-“

“Nope, nope. It’s fine, really,” I said, trying to stop this train of thought before it left the station.

“Well if you say so…” he said, resigned, and just a tad disappointed.

Sunday... Well, it was living up to its name. The pegasi had cleared the skies for some reason, allowing Celestia’s light to bathe over the park like a light syrup spread across toast… that’s a good breakfast. I had spent all night yesterday toiling over what to do today, because it occurred to me that I was woefully unprepared. I’m sure Blossom had packed in many things to do on our date, it was only via circumstance we skipped to the end. Despite how many hours into the night I planned, I only summoned a single plan: a picnic. I then realised this was a part of my original plan and through a combination of fatigue and ire I fell asleep at my desk.

It was now mid-afternoon and I had trekked to the fountain not too deep into the park proper, my saddle bag warped outwards with food stuffs and a chequered blanket. The fountain was more intricate than the simple spire I had observed at the mall, featuring a trio of ponies from each tribe spouting out water from their mouths, whilst an alicorn with unfurled wings an uniquely long horn stood in the middle. The splashing of the water felt nice against my coat, and helped cool me somewhat under the strong heat of the sun. I kept a wary eye out for Synary, whom with his striking ocean blue mane and off-white coat was an easy pony to pick off from a distance.

To my pleasant surprise he arrived only shortly after I, and despite the casualness of the setting and the relaxed nature of the event he still carried with him the full burden of his shyness, his steps looking deliberately slow as if he was being extra careful with every placement of his hoof. He did though pick up a little at seeing me, his normally reserved expression perking up into a smile. I would have thought by this point I’d be so used to it that I would be unaffected by it, yet the sight still created little sparks on my gut, and my heart to skip twice.

“H-hello,” he greeted, stopping a couple of metres from me, something which appeared conscious on his part.

“Good afternoon, Synary,” only after it left my mouth did I realise how formal that sounded, and I wanted to grimace. “How are you?”

“I’m good, thank you,” he said, his voice still very soft to the ears. He still wore that smile, and he was suddenly made aware of this himself, bringing a hoof up to cover his lip. “S-sorry, I can’t stop smiling.”

“Hey, there's nothing wrong with that. I like seeing you smile.”

“You do?”

“Y-yeah…” my response elicited from him his largest smile yet, which whilst on my face would be only a gleeful beam, on him it was paramount to me of a thousand smiling faces it looked so happy.

“Thank you,” his quiet voice sounded elated and relieved, and for a moment I saw his body relax.

“S-shall we get going?” I asked, anything to stop me staring dumbly at the smiling colt.

“Yes. I would like that.”

And so we began our the pilgrimage that was our first date. We walked at a slow pace, mainly due to the fact that when I started our walk he lagged behind, following me, so I slowed down so that we walked abreast; maintaining the speed since we had no real direction in mind, just enjoying each other’s presence and the warm sun. He was an infrequent speaker, and I found myself on multiple occasion breaking the ice, but thankfully for me he seemed unreceptive to my bad jokes; enjoying mostly listening to me ramble about myself. The few scraps of information he offered about himself were tasty morsels. His cutie mark apparently earned because he was really adept at saving money, and when I asked about the story of how he got it, he offered only ‘it really helped’. After three quarters of an hour I became intensely curious about something. A part of me realised I like colts very much the same way I liked mares, but for others learning they hold a liking towards the same sex and not the opposite is apparently a life changing revelation, and I had so ask.

“When did you realise you were, well, to put it bluntly: gay?” I asked, and he looked at me with a wide eyed glance and a blush before averting his eyes.

“Well, in truth, it was during that day.”

“You mean me, in the shower, that day?”

“Yes,” he nodded, now barely looking at me at all, “I don’t know what it was, but before then I never even thought about colts that way…”

“W-well, maybe you just never saw something that really made you know for sure.”

“Or maybe it was just you…” he looked me in the eye as he said that in a surge of directness, that immediately crumbled and he averted his eyes again, blushing furiously red.

Exhaling sharply through the nose, I felt the need to return this comment with a moment of affection. Remembering yesterday, I closed the gap between our bodies, and he squeaked but remained unusually steadfast in his standing, not retreated from me as I expected. Instead he continued to walk astride beside me, only now the fond connection of our bodies was present. I meanwhile was feeling a upheaval in timidness, this marking officially the first time I’ve displayed such an intimacy toward a colt in public. Synary was taking it in stride, and to add to my list of things I never thought I’d say, I wish I had his confidence. It’s my date, I should display some sliver of courage shouldn’t I?

Fuck it, I’m going for it.

Suddenly: surprise attack! I nuzzled against his cheek, a soft and caring rub of my muzzle against the side of his face. The move caused him to look at me in blushing alarm, looking up at me with slightly parted lips and wide eyes. He looked away, shy and red faced, muzzle scrunched up in a bashful display. That would teach him…

He was a tad more talkative after that. His parents, like Maple had told me way back when, were extremely wealthy. They were artists, inventors, geniuses with a seemingly unending passion for life, discovery and the pursuit of happiness. They were originally young runaways from some distant village I’m sure nopony has heard of, and through effort and dedication alone they made their wealth. No wonder he lacks confidence, especially when those two are a constant reminder of what he has to live up to. I changed the topic from his parents to hobbies, and discovered that the two were deeply intertwined. His parents were keen on teaching him a bunch of skills, and whilst he felt burdened with many of them, he held a particular liking of painting. It calmed him the patience behind every stroke, the drying of paint, and the cathartic feeling of watching it all come together in the end to make a beautiful piece of art. He was really selling me on it actually.

“That looks like a good spot,” I said, looking toward a rather secluded darkened patch of grass beneath a large birch tree. There were few ponies walking this far into the park, most opting to enjoying their time shallow into the park’s depths. It had a noticeable effect on Synary, his movements were lacking the same kind of restraint, and his permanent blush had seemed to lessen in intensity. He finally seemed to relax somewhat, which, in a weird way, made me proud for him. “I’ll just set this out and we can get stuck in.”

Synary stood back as I set out the blanket, removing my saddle bag and placing it in the middle. It was no wicker basket, but it would do. It wasn’t the best picnic, but who could blame me, it was my first time. Several cans of soda, multiple varieties of sandwiches of sweet and savory kinds, a fair variety of sweet stuffs and strawberry shortcake. I thought it’d make for a quant afternoon, although by this point I had grown rather complacent with the walk and simple conversation, which getting to know Synary more as an individual had alone made this affair worthwhile. But sitting on the blanket and him joining me, I couldn’t think of a better way to top this date off than good food.
He never made comment on the food, but with less ponies around he became more talkative. He asked me my favourite hobby, and I replied creative writing (ironic considering how atrocious my hoofwriting is). He asked me what my favourite piece was, then what inspired that, and then inquired how much I liked my time in the badlands, and so forth and so on. Querying him taught me why he was so intent on questioning me, as for some reason every answer he gave to every question just made me more intrigued by him as pony. After a while we had found ourselves lying on our backs, conversation altering from simple questions to nothing of substance. Not that it was a bad thing, not in the slightest. I was just enjoying his voice, and I’m sure he was enjoying mine. Without realising it, at one point the entire world was plunged into dark…

I blinked my eyes open, at first being confused by the orange light, I then realised it was dusk. Looking down I suddenly got a noseful of mane hair, sniffing and pulling away, I was enlightened to a sight that made my recently relaxed heart race into a ferocious beating. Synary had taken to sleeping on me rather than beside me, but the sight of his objectively adorable sleeping little face meant that any objection I may have had to this was nonexistent. He had on his face a cute little smirk of a smile, his cheek was squashed against my chest, his head slightly rising and falling in match of my breaths.

Is it weird to watch somepony as they sleep? It makes me feel strange, but it fills with a wholly selfish buzz in my chest, that made me want to wrap my hooves around him and pull him tighter into my chest. The dusk was colder than the afternoon, and that made the warmness of his form all the more sought after. I took the plunge, delicately wrapping my hooves around him, which prompted him to stir. He fluttered open his eyes, and he looked around dazed and confused, although after glancing down at my grey coat he took to panic. He looked up at me in worry and began to pull away, but in response with a small smile I pulled him back in, tightening my hooves. He looked wary, than happy, pressing his cheek back against my chest and nuzzled it into me. Cute.

“It’s getting pretty late,” I said, looking up. No doubt the stars would make their big reveal soon, Celestia’s sun looked ready to descend.

“I know…” he replied, his voice oddly melancholy. “I enjoyed this.”

“Me too,” I replied, giving him a squeeze. “I had a great time with you.”

“Hey,” he started, looking squeamish, “can I tell you something?”

“Anything,” I gave him a reassuring smile.

“A-after that… time, in the showers, I can’t stop thinking about it,” he spoke in a low voice, embarrassment plastered to his face.

“Y-yeah, I know what you mean,” I replied, trying to show empathy, “it was… different, to say the least.”

“I don’t mean what happened, I mean… it, your…” he trailed off, his entire face painted over with bright red.

“Oh… Oh!” Realisation slapped me, and I too felt red faced, “M-my… thing.”

“Y-yes,” he stuttered, “and can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course,” the surrealness had embedded into my head, and I knitted my brows.

“Ever since then, I can’t stop touching myself everytime it comes into thought,” he brought his voice back to a whisper, but with the context and content of what he just said I couldn’t help but take it sensually.

“R-right.”

“Looking at it… touching it… t-tasting… t-taking it,” he said in a meticulous slowness, the vibrations of his throat stirred my arousal. “The mere thought of you… and I then I can’t help but touch myself.”

“T-that’s pretty intense,” I said, thankful for the lack of spectators.

“O-oh,” he looked down the length of my body, and saw that when my arousal was stirred, as was another part of me. Swelling from the sheath, my grey mottled cock began to emerge from my sheath, myself blushing.

“Do you want to…” I trailed off, my statement causing him to look up at me the reddest blush thus far, his jaw seeming to tremble.

“I-in public?”

“I’m sorry, you’re right, we sho-”

“N-no,” he interrupted, a surprising amount of force in his voice. “I w-want to.”

I nodded, fascinated. He looked down at my slowly approaching shaft, the appendage filling with blood was a sight he appeared mesmerised by, watching it intently. Ever so slowly, he edged a hoof out toward the tip, trembling as it did so. He yanked it back, my shaft twitching in overzealousness, and I cringed thinking I frightened him off. Fortunately the fear was short lived, the underside of his hoof softly pressed against the head of my cock, and we both released breaths that I suspect neither of us knew we were holding in. He was delicate, and didn’t give off the aura of experience Blossom held, he was entirely unfamiliar. Ironic, considering we both held the same piece of equipment.

“It’s so big,” he coo’d, tracing the tip with his hoof, “and so warm.”

“Y-yeah,” the little slashes of pleasure causing a catch in my throat.

“And it gets bigger, doesn’t it?” His question came out more rhetoric than actual, and my eyes wandered down his body, and saw for some reason he was holding his legs together.

“L-let me see yours,” I requested, his hoof still brushing over the head of my cock.

“Y-yeah, sorry,” he replied, and he rotated his body, turning onto his back.

I was surprised by how hard he was already, his shaft standing fully erect into the air, bobbing and throbbing. So captured was I by the allure of his rod that I barely realised I felt warm breaths against my cock. Glancing down I saw my now fully erect and heavy erection as only a couple of inches from his muzzle, and his exhales were only a second between, almost as if he was overly excited or scared.

“You’ve looked at it, touched it, do you want to…”

Without answering, cutting my statement short, he dragged his wide tongue slowly over the head of my cock. There was savoring of taste, or thinking on the act, he continued to lick at it as if it was his favourite flavour of lollipop. Little moans came from out my mouth, his tongue was acting on no other purpose than to taste me, lapping up my beads of pre as they leaked from my shaft. When I pushed my hips towards his lips, I got no entry, and whimpered; his tongue still arduously dragging up the length of my head, his wide tongue covering every inch of it. I looked to his untouched shaft, which looked like it was aching to me touched, and if I were to admit something to only myself: I’ve wanted to suck cock ever since I saw one.

“C-can I taste you?” I tried to make it sound erotic, but it came out as a shy cheep.

“Y-yeah.”

We shifted, him turning back on his stomach and raising his plot into the air, and making little steps to shimmy over me; remaining in his place by my cock. When he was over me, his shaft swung slightly beneath him, and up close it looked a little more daunting. He unceremoniously lowered onto my chest, his erection staring me upside down in the eye, throbbing on my chest; his plot and accompanying hole were within reach, and his swollen balls were draped over his shaft.

I’ve never been this close to one that wasn’t my own, and I let curiosity overshadow my desires just a tad. My hooves pressed against either side of it, and feeling it twitch in my hooves put a amatory smile on my lips. It was hot with blood, and felt thick, and when a bead of pre leaked from the tip - it looked delectable. I inched my muzzle forward, smelling his stallionhood, the thick scent of coltyness made me feel a desire I had only fantasised about whilst pleasuring myself: to take it between my lips.

I took an experimental lick, the tip of my tongue brushing against his urethra, lapping up the bittersweet liquid that ebbed from the tip of his cock; his following moan made the translucent liquid all the more sweeter, reminding me slightly of blueberries… slightly salty blueberries. Deciding to me a little more decadent, my hooves trailed up the length of his shaft, brushing over his balls and pressing against his soft flanks. He momentarily froze under my touch, but relaxed against, his tongue continuing to idly lick at the head of my shaft. Kneading his soft plot, I tried applying what I did with Blossom here, my tongue tracing the rim of his flare, little slashes across the width. The response was what I wanted - little groans and moans, as well as his slight grinding into my chest - he wanted more, and I wanted to please…

Licking my lips, wet more with his pre than my saliva, I opened my mouth and headed towards… well, his head. The thing that my senses picked up first, before the feeling of his girth stretching my jaw, the undiluted smell of stallion, was the taste. It was a turgid cocktail of flesh, sweat, and pheromones, a taste that alone made me buck light against Synary’s lips, which parted slightly to moan as I took in his meat. My tongue lathered around his girth, pushing against the semi-hard cock with my tongue, milking out not only more pre from his erection but also moans from his throat.

Synary, realising the bar I now set, followed suite. I felt a slight pain, his jaw I could tell struggled to accommodate, his teeth slightly pushing into my cock. I could feel my wide tip pushing against his cheek, and the sight alone of his bulging maw would have probably caused me to groan in bliss. The pain of his teeth however, was far out shadowed by the ministrations of his tongue, which overworked to wash my cock with saliva and my own pre.

I took more of him into my mouth, sucking it like I would a candy cane, lapping as much of its surface area as I could. I heard Synary splutter
and cough, and I pulled back on his shaft, breathing and looking down with worry.

“Are you okay?” I asked, slightly frantic.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” he actually have a small laugh, and my worry took leave. “I just overestimated it. That’s all. It was a lot easier when I was just fantasising.”

“I get that,” I concurred, licking his broad tip with a smirk before enveloping it for a second time, a worthwhile moan coming from his mouth.
I tried to see how much I could take in. More in the mouth, the more pleasure he felt, right? At the angle I was sucking, I couldn’t take in more than what hit the back of my throat, my neck created a u-bend that his cock definitely wouldn’t appreciate being bent at. Which in a way I was thankful, as another inch would have surely triggered my gag reflex, it was a miracle it wasn’t being triggered now. I pulled back just so my lips were on the rim of his flare, and I pushed back down, my tongue all the while delivering a flurry of little lashes and strokes. He too was trying things. My size meant he couldn’t take in more than just the flare and an inch, but it didn’t mean his hooves and tongue couldn’t join in. He shifted his head, pushing my tip from cheek to cheek, his tongue realising the rim of my flare was most sensitive. I moaned around his cock, and when his hooves travels down my shaft to stimulate my medial ring, I had to wilfully stop myself from bucking.

Soon, in that moment before the final setting of the sun and the arrival of stars, the park was silent. All except for the sounds of sucking cock and the moaning colts behind it. My mouth pistoned up and down his shaft at a reasonable pace, and despite pleasure hindering my other perceptions, I still felt his shaft swelling in my mouth. My legs shook, my shaft twitching between his lips. I tapped his plot, forewarning him of my advancing orgasm. With a flick of his tongue he pulled back his maw, and immediately set upon my cock with his tongue, licking it with the speed one might employ to eat a rapidly melting ice cream. I wasn’t going to orgasm without him, and placed my hooves on his erection, squeezing around his medial ring downward to the head; milking with my hooves and sucking with my mouth, ready to drink his sticky milk.

“Mhm!” I sounded around his cock as I bucked my hips, my shaft flaring as I felt the first rope of cum shoot from my cock, his tongue still stroking the tip and lapping it up as it fired. Meanwhile he bucked into my chest, his cock erupting and flaring in my mouth, his seed pouring generously from his shaft. It came out at such a speed I could swallow it, but my cheeks bulged out at the sheer quantity, and I was astonished his balls held this much within them. He tasted like a thick creamy salty black currant milkshake, and I released a moan, the taste was surprisingly was orgasmic… Pun?

When I finished swallowing down Synary’s cum, I pulled back off his shaft with a gasp, some seed dribbling down the corner of my lip. It was then I noticed Synary was still idly licking at my shaft, the still sensitive tip causing my lower half to quiver and shake.

“S-Synary?” I probed, catching his attention, looking over his shoulder.

“Sorry,” he grinned full of bash, and I smirked.

“I didn’t realise you liked it that much.”

“There was a lot of it. I genuinely thought it was still pouring out, so my tongue was on autopilot there,” he explained, a grin appearing on my face.

“Well, I apologise,” I was half sincere, a part of me sly.

“No need,” he was now soft in voice, and he nuzzled against my softening cock. “This was great.”

“Synary?” I verbally prodded, getting no reply.

“Synary? Synary... we can’t sleep here… Synary, please wake up… we’re in the middle of the park, Synary… come on, we’ve got school tomorrow… Synary?!”