Mom found your panties this morning. Want them back now, or..?
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Filly Scout's Delight, or: Mom Found Your Panties, Want Them Back?
Mom found your panties this morning. Want them back now, or..?
The school bell rang. Dozens of tiny schoolponies flocked into the Ponyville classroom, stashing their saddlebags in cubbyholes and taking their seats. The air was rife with the anticipation of a Monday morning, freshly revitalized little brains ready for a new school week, some more eager than others.
Ginger Snap took her seat in the second row, behind a couple of colts, one of whom who was busy chatting away about his weekend trip to Manehattan. To her right, Diamond Tiara was showing off a new tiara her father had bought for her during a business trip in Canterlot. The noisy atmosphere filled the room, blocking out her quiet voice from prying ears as she leaned to her left.
“Psst, Dinky!” she whispered just as the other filly was setting out her quill and paper. The unicorn paused and looked her way, a small smile on her lips.
“What’s up, Snappy?” came the answer, a light tease on the cusp of her voice as she used Ginger’s pet name.
“Mom found your panties this morning. You know, the pink ones with the blue bow? Want them back now, or...?” Ginger leaned closer, as innocent and naive as ever.
Dinky dropped her head to her desk with a ‘thud’, cheeks burning in embarrassment.
“I thought I told you,” she mumbled, her voice muffled from the desk, “not to talk about that in public!”
*** The day before ***
Sundays in Ponyville were usually busy if one was in the cookie-selling business. Everypony was at home spending time with their families, and were ripe for the picking. Ginger Snap’s troupe had the whole town mapped out, their game plan simple but effectual: they went in pairs, each taking a different block, and would meet back at Sugarcube Corner by lunchtime for a well-earned snack.
They tended to alternate pairs so everypony had a good shot of getting to know each other. This time around, Ginger and Dinky were assigned a good part of town that both knew had some prime cookie hot spots. It wasn’t the first time the girls were teamed up with each other, but they’d been friends since a very young age and always did things together, so it went without saying that they were a good duo.
The first house they came across belonged to an old mare. Old ponies were a mixed bag: on one hoof, they loved buying cookies from the Scouts and always had the bits to spend, but on the other you never knew if you were going to get roped into cleaning their garden or listening to stories for hours on end, and everypony knew a Filly Scout didn’t back down from a challenge or doing a good deed for their community. Ginger was three deeds away from her community helper badge, so she was ready to do whatever it took.
Dinky, on the other hoof, had most of her badges by now. She was good at buttering up older ponies and selling extra boxes of cookies. She was a real salesmare and brilliant to watch. Ginger always wondered what her strategy was.
As the door opened and the old mare smiled down at the fillies, they each brought out the cutest smile they had in their repertoire. Ginger recognized this mare and knew from experience that they weren’t about to work on her garden or clean the bathroom.
“Awww, aren’t you a bunch of darlings!” said the mare, “I could just eat you up!” Out from a drawer behind her came a small bag of bits, and a box of cookies was exchanged.
“Thank you, Miss Appletree!” they said in unison, smiling extra wide. Ginger felt Dinky nudge her in the side, and she picked up her cue.
“Oh, what’s that? More cookies? Well, I don’t see why not,” the mare continued, and more bits floated by. Dinky kept smiling, never losing her focus.
“We’re saving up for a new slide at the park!” Dinky chirped, “and for extra snacks at the Filly Scouts camp this year!”
Ginger watched in awe as Dinky managed to work out a third, and then a fourth box of cookies, until the mare probably had no more spending money left. Thanking her gratuitously, they walked away. Ginger turned to look at Dinky, reverence in her eyes.
“That was amazing!” Ginger hopped up and down, nearly spilling over the wagon connected to her back.
“Nah, it was nothing,” Dinky grinned. “You’re amazing! It was all you. You’re way more adorable than me!” She nudged Ginger, and both fillies laughed. Dinky always had a funny way of showing her friendship by showering Ginger in compliments, but she never complained. Ginger didn’t pay much mind to how Dinky never showed that kind of affection to anypony else, either.
“I think I’m going to get my cookie-selling badge with you at my side this year for sure,” Ginger gushed, hopping along down the street, approaching the next house.
“Sure you will! It’s easy-peasy!” Dinky affirmed as she reached up to the door and knocked.
A voice called out from inside and grew nearer and nearer, until a stallion opened the door. He looked between the two with a wide grin, eyeing them up and down.
“Filly Scouts! Would you like to buy some cookies?” they chimed. The stallion remained still.
“Real cute outfits you got there,” he remarked, head tilting to one side. Dinky gave him a funny look with a quirked eyebrow.
“Let me handle this one,” Dinky whispered to Ginger when he still didn’t budge. She smiled extra wide and waved at the tall stallion, getting his attention.
“Yep! They’re brand new this year. Paid for by generous donations by ponies like yourself!” She did a little twirl to show off the outfit, a full skirt and blouse ensemble with a green sash and beret. As Dinky turned around she moved to their wagon full of cookies, rearing up to put her forelegs on the rim.
“Let’s see here...we have Thin Mints, Samoas, Sugar Cookies, Chocolate Chip, Peanut Butter...” she swayed her hips as she spoke, tail swishing side-to-side. Each time it reached the height of its arch in either direction a flash of her panties underneath could be seen. The panties were a necessary part of the outfit to maintain modesty, or so the Scout Master had said. Ginger had found them to be uncomfortable at first, but quickly grew used to them. They were nice to wear under the skirt.
The stallion, meanwhile, looked fit to have his eyes explode out of his head. He shuffled in place and frantically looked up and down the street.
“I-I...uh...” he stammered
“Or how about six boxes?” Dinky slowly lifted her tail, using her usually clumsy magic to grab a pinch of her skirt and lift it up. Her panties were on full view now, pink and decorated with a little blue bow on the front, a shade that complimented her fur. They were somewhat tight and rode up slightly, bringing out the curves of her privates. Ginger gulped dryly. She’d never seen Dinky act like this before, and it was making her feel all kinds of strange.
“M-make it ten.,” the stallion muttered, “and maybe you could...take them off?”
Dinky snorted.
“Twenty,” she replied.
“Deal.”
With a knowing smile, Dinky grabbed the hem of her panties and pulled them down, inch by slow inch, past her haunches until they bunched up near her hooves. Her puffy fillyhood, a darker shade of purple than the rest of her fur, was on full display. The stallion stared, slack-jawed, for nearly an entire minute. Ginger stared, too.
“D-dinky, don’t you think we should... isn’t this a bit weird?” Ginger whispered and shifted in place, eyes still glued to Dinky’s rear. It was such a tantalizing sight, even if it wasn’t abnormal to see a friend’s privates when they normally weren’t clothed.
“Heh, you’re right, Snappy, as always!” She tugged her panties back up, flipped her tail down, and wheeled around, suddenly turning back into her typical cute salespony self, smiling from ear-to-ear.
“Bits, please!”
Reluctantly, the stallion handed them over. They quickly sorted out twenty boxes of cookies, thanked him, and went on their way. Ginger felt confused, and most of all, a strange feeling in her tummy, like butterflies deep down that wouldn’t go away.
Trotting down the street, the pair of girls made their way to each house one-by-one. A few didn’t answer, whether they were away or merely didn’t want to answer (Dinky was sure that that cranky old stallion had to be home. She could have sworn she saw him in the window), while others came to the door, smiled politely, and maybe bought a box or two.
No matter how she tried, Ginger just couldn’t shake the butterflies. Dinky must have noticed something was off, too, as she kept glancing at her from the corner of her eye.
“You alright, Ginger?” Dinky prodded at her friend’s side as they walked down the sidewalk, their wagon nearly empty.
“Huh? Oh, I’m fine. I think I’m just a little hungry.”
“Oooh, me too! I can’t wait for lunch!” Dinky grinned and did a little hop.
Sugarcube Corner wasn’t that far now, and most of their street was finished. The last house in the row was one that Ginger wasn’t familiar with. Usually she didn’t make it this far before lunchtime. She glanced up at the big oak door just as Dinky scampered ahead.
“C’mon, silly! Last one and then we can go eat!” called Dinky, skipping along the path, her skirt fluttering up behind her with her eager steps. Ginger let her eyes narrow in at the pink fabric underneath, and her cheeks grew hot. She must have been caught staring, as Dinky stopped and tilted her head.
A colt from school appeared at the door and smiled at them bashfully. He must have seen them from the window as they approached. How long he had been there for, Ginger didn’t want to know.
“Oh, hiya Featherweight,” Dinky smiled as she hopped up onto the porch. Ginger was a few steps behind. “Wanna buy some cookies?”
The colt nodded and retrieved his allowance money from a room upstairs, leaving the pair standing at the door with it wide open. Dinky peeked inside while Ginger gave her a few more occasional glances. Dinky caught one such look, and gave her a smirk.
Before either could speak, Featherweight had returned with enough for two boxes, earning him a big smile from both fillies.
“Thanks, Feather! See ya at school!” Dinky curtsied, using her magic to tug a part of her skirt sideways in a formal way. Ginger tried to imitate her but just felt silly without magic.
They excused themselves with a wave and, with an extra tug of the wagon to get the old, rusty wheel moving again, trotted from the corner lot across Ponyville Square to the bakery.
Sugarcube Corner was nearly bursting to its limit when the two fillies walked in. Weekends had a habit of doing that when it was particularly warm outside, especially before the school year ended. There were a number of other foals from a recent buckball game at the park, some with their parents, and the other Filly Scouts crowded around two booths on one side of the bakery.
After making their orders—two scoop strawberry sundae for Dinky and a blueberry milkshake for Ginger—the pair made their way to the tables. A couple fillies shuffled over so they had room. Dinky and Ginger were left near the edge, pressed together rump-to-rump.
Twist was busy recanting a story about how she managed to convince an old mare to part with six boxes, and how she had finally earned her cookie sales badge, when Cloudy Skies butt in.
“That’s nothing! This stallion over on my street bought eight boxes! He kept changing his mind, though. I must have been digging through my wagon for like ten minutes! He was kind of a weirdo.” The group erupted into giggles and laughter. Each knew all too well about weird stallions.
“What about you, Dinky? How much did you guys sell today to a single pony?” Twist turned on the pair and Dinky gave a cool smirk. Every filly in the group knew Dinky was the best there was, though few knew how.
“Tell ‘em, Snappy.” Dinky ate a scoop of ice cream while all eyes peered at them, focusing on Ginger now.
“Twenty. Twenty boxes to a stallion.” Ginger looked around at all the surprised faces and saw a familiar awe.
“How’d you do a thing like that? That musta been half the cart!” Another squeaky voice, this time belonging to a filly named Alula, cut in.
Ginger was about to respond, but a sharp jab in her leg under the table coming from Dinky’s direction caused her to shut her mouth. Something told her that wasn’t something she was supposed to share.
“Just luck, I guess. Or he was one hungry stallion!” Dinky giggled. The rest of the table erupted into chatter that Ginger didn’t try to decipher as she sat quietly drinking her milkshake.
No matter how she tried, she just couldn’t shake the butterflies, or the memory of Dinky yanking her panties down her legs, tail hiked high up over her rump, exposing her private place for all the world to see. Or, at the least, both Ginger, and the stallion who’d paid for the sight.
Dinky turned to Ginger as some of the foals recanted their cookie-related stories, or about class that week—Miss Cherilee hadn't been so lenient in the homework department, and a colt recently acquired his cutie mark—but most of the noise was drowned out. A crooked smile crossed her lips and Ginger felt the butterflies doing loops and twists in her tummy. Under the table, she reached across and touched Ginger’s thigh.
“Wanna get out of here? Didn’t you have something at home you wanted to show me?” Dinky turned and focused her gaze on Ginger. The room felt like it slipped and faded away.
“I...uh...” Ginger stammered and struggled for words, a deep blush on her cheeks, growing to her ears.
Dinky nudged her again, grabbing her hoof—much to Ginger’s chagrin—and dragged the stumbling foal out of her seat. She hadn’t even finished her milkshake before finding herself trotting toward the front door.
Dinky dropped her hoof so that Ginger could walk of her own volition, and they walked out into the busy street, where ponies of all kinds were bustling through the market square, going about their busy lives.
“I don’t remember having to show you anything, Dinks,” Ginger admitted, glancing up and down the street at the crowds of ponies.
“I know,” Dinky smirked as she pranced ahead, her tail swishing this way and that, “but I had to get you out of there somehow!” she giggled and made her skirt do a little swish.
“Uh...right.” Ginger nodded despite herself. What was Dinky going on about?
“You coming or not?” Dinky teased with another swish of her tail.
Ginger scampered ahead on clumsy hooves to catch up. To the ponies around them they were just a couple of foals playing about, doing what foals do, and were paid no heed.
Ginger’s house wasn’t far from Ponyville Square as the pegasus flies. A block away, turn right at the old library, and hers was a mid-sized cottage painted yellow like the sun. Her mother loved bright colours, and always told her it was the best way to stay happy.
Dinky was first on the front porch, having initiated an impromptu race from the beginning of the street, which Ginger failed miserably. Still, she had a great view of Dinky’s rear with her skirt fluttering in the wind.
With a roll of her eyes, Dinky pushed open the door and welcomed herself in.
“Slowpoke!” Dinky chided.
“N-no!” panted Ginger, coming in just behind her. She reached back with a hind leg and shut the door. She caught up to the other filly, who was poking her nose into the kitchen.
“Where’s your Mom?”
“They’re in Canterlot until later tonight. They said I was old enough to watch myself!” There was a hint of pride in Ginger’s voice, her chest puffing a little.
“Perfect,” grinned Dinky, a spark in her eyes. It, too, made Ginger feel funny, and perhaps a little worried.
“Why?” Ginger was offloading her saddlebags by the door, not paying much attention to her surroundings. Maybe the butterflies were on account of her being sick, and she just needed to take a nap. That must have been it.
“Because of this!” Exclaimed Dinky. She was suddenly a couple of inches away, hovering next to Ginger with a big smile.
Ginger looked up at her, not sure what to expect. She certainly didn’t expect the other filly to break the distance between them and press their lips together.
It was like a spark of electricity zapped between them. Ginger’s eyes snapped open wide and she stared in disbelief. Yet deep down, at her very core, she knew she didn’t want this to end. She melted into the kiss and let out an exhale, to which Dinky took as her cue.
The other filly pushed further, a hoof rubbing tenderly into Ginger’s fur, and Dinky twisted her muzzle, listing to the side.
The kiss broke, leaving Ginger dazed, confused and sitting on her rump. Dinky pulled away with a wide smirk, eyeing Ginger up and down, and before Ginger could even formulate the words to respond to what just happened, Dinky nudged her cheek with the side of her muzzle.
“I know the looks you’ve been giving me,” Dinky whispered, continuing to rub Ginger’s side, “and I’m not dumb.”
Ginger merely stammered, trying to find the words, and failing.
“So there’s more—way more if you want—if we go up to your room.” Dinky continued with the light touching, “Deal?”
Ginger stared slack-jawed and wide-eyed. She licked her dry lips and cleared her throat abruptly.
“Yeah. Yes. Uh, please.” Ginger blinked, and Dinky giggled.
“Well c’mon, then. Lead the way, silly,” Dinky teased, turning around completely, giving the surprised foal on the floor a swat of her tail. There was a faint scent wafting from under that tail, one that Ginger wasn’t familiar with. It was an earthy, tangy smell, with a hint of lilac, that only drove her curiosity more.
Ginger stumbled to her hooves and walked to the stairs, her head hazy. Dinky was trotting behind her, giving occasional nudges to make her move faster, smirking whenever Ginger looked her way.
Ginger’s bedroom was at the end of the upstairs hall, crammed to the brim in the tiny space. For a filly as tomboyish as her, she sure had a lot of girly pillows and stuffed plushies. There was a plethora of posters on the walls, a tiny bookshelf under the window, and the walls were a mute pink.
Dinky always found it far cozier than her own room. During their many sleepovers, there was scarce enough room on the floor that it necessitated joining Ginger on the bed. The window had a tendency to be a bit drafty during cold winter days, also. That, too, forced them to huddle closer under the covers; not that either complained. Theirs was a friendship of close proximity and cuddling.
Dinky hoisted herself upon the bed, plopping down on her rump, her skirt bunching up around the waist. Ginger was not long after, her cheeks still a dark hue as she clambered up the side, sitting a distance away.
In an instant, Dinky pounced on Ginger and pushed the filly into the soft covers of her bed, standing above her with a triumphant grin. Ginger’s beret fell off her head and landed to the side.
“You really are a silly filly sometimes, Snappy,” said Dinky, as she leaned down against Ginger and brushed her snout against hers, their muzzles touching delicately. Her magical aura caught her own cap just before it fell off, tossing it to the side. Ginger continued to stare at her friend, a look of astonishment in her features.
“Am not,” replied the stricken Ginger, tucking her forelegs against her chest. Those butterflies in her tummy felt like they’d grown to a flock of wild birds, fluttering about and making her feel all topsy-turvy.
Dinky inched closer and pressed her nose against Ginger’s, and the two foals stared at each other muzzle-to-muzzle. Ginger wriggled her snout and one of her ears simultaneously, which earned a giggle from the other filly.
In a moment of daring, Ginger lifted her head and went against her base instincts to shy away, taking her turn instead to initiate an electrifying kiss, much to Dinky’s surprise and satisfaction. But then, sinking back into the bed, Ginger let Dinky take back control, as she was all the more experienced. Dinky towered over her and pressed down on Ginger’s chest with one hoof, pushing their muzzles together even closer.
At first, Dinky just nibbled on Ginger’s lower lip, earning a surprised squeak. Her hoof massaged in circles around her blouse, rubbing softly into her tender belly through the fabric. Realigning their lips, Dinky kissed with gusto, letting her tongue slip forward and graze along Ginger’s teeth until she was given entrance.
Ginger was introduced to a whole new world of passion and kissing, more than anything she’d ever experienced with another pony, especially not her parents or a colt at school. She melted into Dinky’s hooves and simply let the other filly take what she wanted.
Dinky’s hoof found its way lower, slipping under her skirt and making contact against Ginger’s bare rump, where her cutie mark would be. This elicited a small squeak from Ginger, which gave Dinky better leverage to stick her tongue deeper into Ginger’s maw.
Ginger mewled softly as her tongue was coaxed out and they played a game of tug-of-war with each other’s tongues and mouths, eventually letting herself be lead into Dinky’s muzzle. The filly tasted so remarkably different than what Ginger would ever have expected.
Her mind focused on their passionate kissing, Ginger didn’t pay much heed to the hoof rubbing up and down her rump, or how her skirt had been flipped up. It wasn’t until Dinky grabbed at the hem of Ginger’s panties and started to abruptly yank them down that Ginger’s attention was brought back to reality and she pulled away from the kiss once more.
“Shhh,” Dinky coaxed Ginger with a soft rub, “Just relax, okay?”
Ginger nodded sheepishly. She didn’t have the words, but she knew that whatever it was they were doing, she wanted to be doing it with Dinky. Her heart was happy, even if her tummy was still flip-floppy.
Dinky scooted further down the bed and kissed at Ginger’s neck, pecking her in a series of smooches that trailed down her throat and across her collarbone. Ginger squirmed and giggled from the sensations.
“T-that tickles!” Ginger held back fits of laughter, flicking her tail absentmindedly. Dinky was now sitting on Ginger’s tummy, gazing down at her.
“Is it a bad tickle?” she asked.
“No. I don’t think so. It’s kind of nice. Just not so rough, maybe?” Ginger panted for breath, giving Dinky a cute little smirk with a wrinkle of her snout.
“Okay,” Dinky nodded, “But I think we should take our Scout uniforms off so they don’t get dirty.”
“Why would they get di--” Ginger started, but was caught off by Dinky smooshing their muzzles together again. Ginger let out a surprised gasp before sinking into it, already eagerly taking in the other’s tongue.
Dinky’s hooves maneuvered up Ginger’s sides, and before she had a chance to protest—not that she would have—the other filly was undoing the buttons on her shirt. Ginger exhaled sharply, a swell of nervousness growing within. Her scout's sash was caught up in a magical aura, the clasp at her back undoing, and slipped off of her.
Suddenly the nature of what they were doing hit home. She recalled brief lessons on the birds and the bees, and about grown-ups who really loved each other. Did she love Dinky? The two foals did everything together, so Ginger certainly thought so.
Dinky must have sensed her hesitation, and the kiss was broken, both girls panting for breath as Dinky released the fourth button down Ginger’s blouse.
“Is this...” Ginger broke the silence first, to which Dinky placed a hoof on her lips.
“Yes,” Dinky interrupted, “but, only if you want to. It’ll feel really nice, trust me.”
Ginger nodded and bit her lips. It was true that she did like Dinky, perhaps even more than as a friend if the memory of Dinky’s tush was any indication. Hadn’t she been daydreaming about this kind of attention, too?
“Okay, Dinky. I trust you,” she whispered quietly, a small shiver running up her back. Dinky merely smiled, her hooves hovering over Ginger’s blouse.
She hesitated, hooves withdrawing in a sudden change of heart.
“Actually, I think I have a better idea, Snappy. No hooves allowed, okay?” She wore a wry smile as she knelt forward and slowly undid another button, only a few more remaining.
“W-why?” Ginger asked, squirming as the filly’s snout tickled her naval. Dinky exhaled and her hot breath caused another squirm. One button was remaining.
“Because, it’s hot,” Dinky chuckled, grasping the last button in her teeth. She expertly worked it until it was undone. The shirt came loose and Ginger pulled her hooves through the sleeves, discarding it off to the side. She shivered, feeling more exposed than she ever had before.
Dinky had shifted down and was working her way to her skirt, making more silly trails of kisses along the way, leaving Ginger’s fur damp. With a wink, she angled her muzzle down and grasped at the hem of Ginger’s skirt with her teeth.
Ginger sucked in a breath, her body freezing up. Dinky began working her way down slowly, tugging down the regulation-standard filly scout skirt past her hips. Her own panties, bright pink with a little kitten on the front, were exposed to the room. With little to cover herself up and Dinky continuing her determined journey, her skirt was pulled down and off, joining her shirt.
“Ready, Ginger?” Dinky breathed, a blush on her own cheeks, “just your panties, and then my turn.”
Ginger nodded. She wasn’t fully sure that she was ready, but here she was, doing it anyway.
Dinky was delicate with her teeth as she grabbed the top of the kitten-patterned panties and slid them slowly down Ginger’s legs. One hind hoof after another slipped out of the holes. Now Ginger was naked, and if she’d felt exposed before it was nothing compared to now.
Ponies were naked every day of their lives barring the days they put on clothes, so why should this be any different? There was something about the act of letting somepony else—especially somepony as nice as Dinky—take them off that made her feel so much more vulnerable.
Dinky was watching her with a smirk, having already climbed off and was sitting on her haunches. It suddenly occurred to Ginger that she was waiting for something, and it didn’t take long to determine what.
Inching forward, Ginger rose to her hooves and stood in front of the giddy filly, who snuck a kiss before craning her neck back.
Ginger grasped the blouse of Dinky’s collar between her front teeth and fumbled with it. It was one thing to dress herself, but helping another pony undress a shirt was different altogether. Her hooves slid up the front of her friend’s chest and around her waist, feeling Dinky’s heartbeat and her rapid breathing as hooves moved around to her back to feel around for the clasp of her sash.
“Mmmh,” Dinky murmured beneath her breath, “That feels nice.” Her sash fell away, soon to join the pile of clothes at the other side of the bed.
A draft from the window caused Ginger to shiver, her legs tucking themselves inward.
“It’s cold, Dinky. Can’t you help?” She fumbled with the second button, just as Dinky’s top came loose. Tufts of fur poked out, tickling her nose.
“I suppose so. It is kinda chilly,” she patted Ginger’s head for a good job and used her magic to slowly undo her top, button-by-button, “but just with my shirt.”
Ginger gulped, watching as Dinky undid her blouse and took it off with a flourish of her magic. She flopped onto her back when she was done and waited for Ginger to take charge.
Despite her nervousness, Ginger stepped forward and clasped the skirt in her teeth and tugged them down. Dinky lifted her rump a little, giving her better access to pull the clothing off. Ginger let them crumble around her hock and focused instead on those wonderful, cute panties she had been eyeing so strongly before at the weird stallion’s doorstep.
With a moment of hesitation she stared down at Dinky’s form, eyes glued to her shapely hips and the slight curve of her vulva that could be seen through the fabric of her panties. Her breath caught in her throat,eyes glued downward.
“Earth to Snappy,” snickered the other foal, “it’s better with ‘em off.”
Ginger snapped to attention and hurriedly moved to grab the elastic band in her teeth, tugging them back and down, watching with open eyes as they shifted down over the filly’s butt and around the curve of her hips. Slowly, Dinky’s fillyhood came into view, a tiny pink line bordered by two puffy outer lips.
Ginger dropped the undergarments from her teeth the moment she was able to have a full view. It wasn’t like it was even the first time she’d seen a filly or a mare’s private parts. As ponies, such a sight was commonplace when a tail was wet, drafty, or just didn’t feel like co-operating. Dinky’s, though, was very different than any she’d seen before, even Dinky herself the few times in the past Ginger might have happened a casual glance.
Not only was she experiencing everything about her friend in a fresh new perspective, looking at her in a light she’d never seen before, but Dinky herself looked somehow different. The area between her legs was slightly damp, like grass in the early morning, and carried a scent that was far more enticing. Sweet and tangy, with a hint of lavender, like what she’d caught a whiff of in the kitchen not long ago.
Ginger licked her dry lips and continued to stare while the other filly shimmied the rest of her way out of the remaining garment and propped herself up on her hooves.
“Wowee, you must see something you like,” Dinky giggled, “go ahead, have a taste.”
Ginger snapped to attention and looked at Dinky in shock.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because it tastes good. Or so I’m told.” That sparkle in her eyes returned, and Ginger felt like it was in her best interest at that moment not to pry. She licked her lips again. There was no question in her mind that it did sound enticing.
With another glance in Dinky’s direction to make sure it was okay, to which she received a nod, she pressed her muzzle forward. Her wet nose made contact with the lower part of Dinky’s tummy and that inviting area between her legs, the rest of her muzzle pressing directly into the opening of her slit. She pushed her mouth up against Dinky’s slit and inhaled her scent. A shiver went down her spine, and she felt Dinky twitch, too.
Nervously, and with little clue as to what she was doing, she rolled her curious tongue out of her mouth and gently lapped up Dinky’s honeypot. Dinky quivered and let out a moan above her. A sharp, tangy taste lingered on Ginger’s tongue, which she rolled around in her mouth. It was a little strange, warm, but certainly delicious! Like the best filly scout’s cookies there was.
She briefly wondered if there was a way to bake this flavour into a cookie. She could call it ‘Filly Scout’s Delight’, or something. Would ponies even buy that?
Ginger was brought back to reality with Dinky’s hind hoof nudging at her head. The other filly was still peering down at her, face flushed, mane matted and jutting out like a dishevelled yellow haybale.
“Gonna keep going, or wanna try something else yet?” She smiled encouragingly. Ginger didn’t need much more invitation than that, and pressed her muzzle up against Dinky’s filly snatch once again, tongue lapping hungrily at her liquid arousal.
As Dinky started to move her rump in a rolling motion, Ginger sought for and found the places that seemed to set her off more. A little squeak here, a twitch of her leg there; it was always near her entrance. Ginger’s tongue slithered between the lips of her folds and snaked into Dinky’s hole, writhing around inside of her and into her everything. It was like the other filly was a firework being set off, suddenly writhing and bucking around.
“Eeek, Snaaaappy!” she cried, her forehooves coming to Ginger’s head. “Ahhh!”
Ginger’s world became a series of frantic licking and slurping and trying to take breaths between mouthfuls of filly privates and tush and squirting and gushing and why was Dinky so wet? She lapped it all up and tasted Dinky, her excitement, and her pure liquid love and it was delicious.
When she was done, and Dinky was panting exhausted above her, sprawled out and spread-eagle, Ginger sat up, wiping her muzzle of the clear, sticky fluids, that pure Dinky-ness, and when she’d licked her hooves all but dry, she gazed at Dinky, who had started to lift her head.
“You’re amazing at that!” panted Dinky, who had started to rise to shaky hooves.
Ginger could only giggle and shrug in return, that familiar rosy-ness returning to her cheeks, and the butterflies acting up in her tummy. Or maybe it was the way that Dinky was looking at her, tilting her head and regarding her in a way that she’d never seen her look at somepony before?
Just when Ginger wondered if she had been waiting for her to do something else—whether she was supposed to choose from an unknown repertoire of sexual acts she had had yet to know anything about, or perhaps kiss and touch her like some experienced, mature lover who would know exactly what to do or what to say—Dinky broke the distance and pushed Ginger onto her back.
Ginger’s face was peppered in kisses, like Dinky was making a point of picking out every one of her freckles, and her wonderfully soft hooves wandered about her body. Dinky pressed into Ginger’s chest and the pounced-upon and effectively pinned filly beneath realized at once that Dinky’s still-warm Filly Parts were resting upon her fur, leaving wet little kisses as she shifted and rubbed, matting Ginger’s fur with her potent scent.
Ginger revelled in it, was lavished in Dinky’s ministrations as she kissed and suckled on her flesh and fur, trailing down down down down.
Licks and suckles to Ginger’s naval, causing her to tickle, laugh and sputter. A hoof reached out to nothing and found hoof-fulls of straw mane and horn. Loving it, stroking it.
Dinky gasped and murmured but it wasn’t her turn to be loved, she’d had her fun, so she bapped it away. She nuzzled and kissed her way between Ginger’s legs, spreading them; spreading her. Peering at her fuzzy mound and kissing it. Kissing past.
Ginger writhed and gasped, her whole world lit anew. Hooves dug into straw mane and she loved. Loved more than she ever thought possible. Loved beyond what she had to give.
Wet kisses, slurps, laps, noms, suckles and pokes. Into her and all around. Of her, with her.
Ginger screamed. And came. Gushing and squealing and cumming all over Dinky’s face, her mattress, her covers. The pony she loved.
Dinky emerged, all wet and sweating, panting for breath just as she had, sheepishly smirking and loving her back.
“Wow, Snappy. You’re a real squirter.”
Ginger didn’t fully gasp what that meant, but she knew it was good. In her post-coital bliss, mind dull and hazy she muttered out something she didn’t mean to.
“Mh. Love you.”
Silence hung in the room and it was palpable. When she realized what she had said she sat up, about to defend herself and take back her words. Her mouth hung open to speak. It was caught in a kiss.
“Love you, too, Snappy.” Dinky murmured back, pressing her head into Ginger’s chin. Doubt washed away, replaced instead with a glowing happiness. She sat back against the headboards and Dinky climbed into her lap.
They lay there together a little while, enjoying the afterglow and each other. Sweaty fur and wrinkled uniforms the aftermath of their lovemaking that was a chore for later.
As their bodies intertwined, Dinky moved her face up to meet Ginger’s, and they kissed. It started soft, caring and affectionate, but turned heavy with tongue presses and wrestles, writhing appendages mirrored by exploring hooves.
Dinky moved first, slipping a hind hoof under one of Ginger’s and pressing them together, belly-to-belly, face-to-face. The kiss broke and Ginger gasped when their bodies touched and were made intimate with a wet, sloppy kiss of already-damp fillyhoods that radiated warmly still.
Wet kisses, mouths touching and careening about each other turned into grinding and rubbing on each other, each one’s fillyhood sliding against the other. They pushed, rubbed and mashed, setting off a course of nerves that exploded into electric pleasure, familiar a feeling to one and newfound for the other.
Their kiss broke and fell apart between exhausted moans and squeals
“Oh Dinky...” Ginger panted. There was a steady, slow rocking as her head bumped the headboard of her bead behind her.
Dinky didn’t respond with words. She pushed harder and pressed her fillyfriend into the headboard, leaned down to her shoulder and bit down, not enough to bleed, but it would certainly bruise into a lovebite. Ginger rocked her hips.
“Ohhhhh, Dinky!” Ginger cried and bit her lip. That lovebite sent her over the edge and her hips became erratic and furious.
Push, rub, grind, mash. The thump, thump, thump of the headboard.
Push.
Rub.
Grind.
Mash.
Thump, Thump, Thump.
She came and Dinky was not long to follow, erupting into sticky, squealching messes over each of them, their juices mixing and puddling beneath and all over Ginger’s pillow. Dinky caught her drooping, lazy tongue into her mouth and they kissed like lovers. Held passion like lovers. Fell asleep together like lovers.
And the clock ticked.
There came an abrupt and loud bang from below.
“Gi-iiinger! Honey! We’re home! Where is that filly off to now!”
Two fillies slept upstairs, entangled in each other, limb over limb, one muzzle in the other’s neck, snoring softly with fur mingled and matted into each other’s bodies.
Two fillies, at the sound of approaching parent, sat up, tossed the room about, grabbed clothes, ran a brush through manes and tails, giving each other frantic glances and guilty expressions.
“Mom can’t find out!” Ginger hushed.
“Fine by me! Our little secret, okay? Nopony at school, either.” Dinky nodded.
Ginger pouted, helping the other stuff garments into her bag. A pair of pink panties, adorned with a little blue bow, fell to the wayside, on the other side of her bed.
“If...if we have to,” Ginger sighed.
Dinky took a step forward, embraced her, and kissed her on the lips for one last longing smooch.
“I know. We’ll do this again, okay?” Dinky poked her chest, “you owe me a movie and popcorn now.”
“Deal,” Ginger cracked a smile, gave her one peck on the cheek and waved as the other filly hurried out of the room and past her parents before they had a chance to see her dishevelled and smelly state.
Ginger snuck to the bathroom and started a shower, memories of cute filly flanks and kisses in her memory. She knew that everything was different now. She couldn’t wait for next time.
Her mother, meanwhile, had just come up the stairs, tutting about and clicking her tongue.
“Those fillies. Never cleaning up after themselves. Guess it’s up to good ol’ Mom to do it for them. Again.” She muttered to herself as she pushed into Ginger’s room.
***
Author's Note
They gave that weirdo stallion all the sugar cookies. Poor guy, he just wanted to see some filly butt.
