Twilight follows Applejack and Big Mac over the hill that marks the start of the southern orchard and tries once again to talk herself out of what will inevitably become a very bad idea. Applejack and Macintosh trust her. They’re nice ponies. They love each other. But once Twilight gets an idea in her head—especially one as juicy as watching her friends mate like mindless animals—she finds it hard to let go.
Stretching out towards the forest on the far end are neatly planted rows of apple trees forming a shimmering green carpet speckled with splashes of red and yellow. It’s an awe-inspiring sight. The Apples have grown this orchard over generations and that hard work has paid off. Even more impressive is the thought that the first Apples would have seen none of this majesty; they simply had to act on faith that their family line would survive and continue the tradition. And it has. It’s a carpet of healthy family legacy.
Well, mostly healthy. Even from up here Twilight can see their destination: a single dead tree.
“Found it just yesterday,” Applejack says. “It was doin’ just fine last week—nice, big green apples well on their way to ripening up.”
“It died in a week?” Twilight asks. “Is that common?”
Big Mac shakes his head. “Eenope.”
Applejack says, “Living this close to the Everfree, you get strange things like this. Ain’t the first tree to, uh, buy the farm. But now we gotta uproot it, ‘fore it decides to fall over too.”
“Right,” Twilight says. Now that they’re within sight, Twilight can see the effect the tree is having on its neighbors. It’s started to wither, most of its leaves a dull brown or mottled yellow. Most of its bark has peeled away, leaving wooden scabs around its base. The nearby trees look slightly pallid and sickly, too.
“How do you normally uproot a tree?”
Big Mac says, “Normally we’d chop it down, dig up the stump, and backfill the hole.”
“How long does that take?”
“Choppin’ it down’s the easy part,” Applejack says. “It’s the digging that’s the worst—usually a couple days, maybe a week if the ground’s cold. Can’t drop everything fer one tree.” Applejack swells with pride. “Sweet Apple Acres is one of the most important farms around. So, lots to do.”
They stop beside the tree. It isn’t that tall—they don’t grow apple trees for their height—but its canopy spreads wide. The ground is peppered with rotten fruit. Big Mac unlatches himself from his wagon and they approach the tree.
“So why ask me?” Twilight wonders aloud. At their confused glances she exclaims, “I don’t mind! I’m glad to help. But . . . you know. ‘That’s not how we do it ’round here.’”
Applejack has the decency to look sheepish. “Yeah, well, Ah think we’ve all grown a little more comfortable ’round Unicorns ever since you came into our lives, Twilight,” Applejack explains with an apologetic smile. “So a little magic—”
“Don’t have a couple days,” Big Mac says.
“Big Mac!” Applejack hisses. “We’d go to Twilight anyways, right?”
He shrugs. “Ah don’t mind the work.”
Applejack smacks her forehead.
Twilight giggles. “It’s okay, Applejack. I understand. Sometimes you have to choose convenience. I know I don’t always have time to head all the way to your orchard when I need some apples; the market’s closer.”
Applejack narrows her eyes. “Right. So, uh, how would you do it?”
Twilight studies the tree. “I’d pull it out.”
“Like a weed?” Big Mac asks, brow furrowed.
“Yep!” Twilight says with a smile. “Up and out. Carefully, since I don’t want to break off any roots and leave them underground, of course, so it might take a few minutes.”
“Do you need us to do anything?” Applejack asks. “How do you start?”
“Like this,” Twilight says, igniting her horn and ignoring Big Mac’s unconscious step back. A gentle magical glow envelopes the tree, flashing up the trunk and out to the tips of each and every branch. It looks like the essence of the tree is trying to escape; like it grows fruit made of light.
As she distracts them with her show of lights, she focuses on the two siblings. A shiver passes through her, unnoticed by Applejack and Big Mac—whether in anticipation or due to the conditioning from her recently frequent symboling attempts, she isn’t sure.
She has to look at them side-on.
They appear in the air, a thickening of the atmosphere between them. Twilight has taken to calling them symbols—it is the best metaphor she can think of. And after practice and experimentation, Twilight can recognize their shapes and words much more readily, even as they try to slip from her mind like the remnants of a dream. Most important are the lines connecting the three of them, like the lines connecting any ponies, usually just out of focus unless a pony really knows what to look for.
A pluck here, a nudge there; the web of symbols connecting Applejack and Big Mac shifts ever so slightly. These new symbols aren’t found in the normal spectrum; a small part of Twilight laments that she cannot take notes, since trying to study the symbols makes them disappear.
Also, she’s about to be very distracted.
First, a layer of boredom over Big Mac. They aren’t new symbols, of course, but these subtly reinforce themselves, sliding in and out of his head with ease. Big Mac doesn’t particularly want to have to uproot a tree; standing around and supervising, even less so. Next is a thin layer of curiosity and anticipation, borrowed from some of her friends: could Twilight and her strange Unicorn magic really yank the stump right out of the ground, roots and all? Twilight adds a layer of distraction, aimed mostly at his sister. She’s there just to hang out; even if she keeps driving the conversation towards her friends, he can just ignore her.
For Applejack, Twilight starts weaving a set of symbols she’d extracted from some of Fluttershy’s wilder menagerie, slotting them into place. Almost immediately Applejack starts sweating, and her hips shift back and forth as she fidgets in place. Twilight activates feedback patterns tuned to certain emotions, emitting more of those same emotions. Symbols based largely off certain herbs in the Everfree slide effortlessly through Applejack’s skull, heightening her senses; soon her eyes are unfocused. Finally Twilight adds short-lived but strong symbols of adoration and affection, sending them deep into Applejack’s mind, although Twilight isn’t entirely sure Applejack needs those.
Applejack’s mouth opens slightly, tongue barely poking out, and her eyes are focused on nothing in particular.
Twilight surfaces and checks on Big Mac. He’s gazing around the orchard, clearly bored out of his mind but far too polite to say so. Not exactly proof of success.
Realizing she hasn’t really answered their question, Twilight explains, “First I have to weaken the tree slightly, to make it more malleable.” She points at the branches, and relaxes her magic. “You can see the tree is slumping slightly. This should make the roots more flexible, and more . . . more manipulatable.”
“Right . . . ” Applejack nods lazily, clearly distracted.
“Ok, Big Mac,” Twilight says. “I should be able to uproot the tree, but I’ve never pulled one this large out of the ground—back at the Academy we used younger trees for practice. What are the roots like?”
She catches a flare of intelligence, which his normally humble demeanour hides so well. He approaches the tree and scans the branches.
Applejack’s eyes follow Big Mac.
Big Mac says, “Ya can guess the size and spread of the roots by measurin’ the branches. Tall trees have deep roots; wide trees have wide roots. They always balance: it costs energy to dig roots, but without enough a tree can fall over . . . ”
Twilight nods along, only half paying attention; she’s read about dendrology and its uses in farming and, although he has practical experience Twilight never will, he’s only sharing the basics in which she’s already fully versed.
Far more interesting is Applejack, who is slowly approaching them, unashamedly ogling her brother.
Twilight watches with baited breath.
Applejack walks up to her brother, hesitates, then leans in to nuzzle his neck. He shifts slightly to the side, keeping his balance, and shrugs her off, but mostly just ignores her. Yes! It’s working! Applejack stumbles back and shakes her head in frustration, trying to act casual. But there’s no mistaking her dopey smile. And Big Mac hasn’t noticed a thing.
Big Mac finishes up an explanation. Twilight parrots back his instructions, then asks, “What about sliding the tree straight up?”
He smiles, amused at such an odd question. “Well, now, Ah can’t say Ah’ve ever considered that before . . . ”
Glad to be helping, but mostly just glad to be doing something, Big Mac keeps up his end of the conversation with ease. Twilight can see memory symbols orbiting his head, and some buzzing around his haunches and legs, as he draws upon experiences and the memories of hard work to consider her questions.
Applejack licks her lips, her tail whipping back and forth. The base symbols surrounding her body are far simpler than Big Mac’s, born from deeper evolutionary needs. Twilight has recently come to recognize them well; she’s sure she’s emitting those same symbols. Applejack’s cheeks are flushed, her breathing rapid, but Twilight doesn’t have to rely on Applejack’s appearance; she can read Applejack’s symbols like a doctor reading a patient’s chart, so long as she doesn’t try too hard.
Applejack nuzzles up against her brother again, harder this time, and when he doesn’t respond she turns her head and licks his neck, his cheek, his jaw, then finally stands in front of him, gives him a determined glare, and kisses him right on the lips.
Excelsior! And even though Applejack isn’t being particularly subtle, Big Mac doesn’t notice at all. He keeps up his end of their discussion on tree maintenance and when to prune dead branches, his words only slightly obstructed by Applejack sucking on his face. She’s making little whimpers, and has to rear up on her hind legs to properly reach his lips, has to wrap her forelegs around his neck for balance.
Twilight shudders. Big Mac is facing her, so Twilight has a full view of Applejack’s swaying rump and swishing tail, the effect as mesmerizing to Twilight as Big Mac is to Applejack. Twilight can see the aromatic symbols of arousal floating out of her sweat, heavier than air and lying low around her. She’s struck with the impression that a flicking tail might be a selected trait, able to more blatantly advertise one’s arousal.
With a slurp and a growl Applejack pulls back. Big Mac finishes his sentence and smiles.
Twilight clears her throat, and shakily faces the tree, keeping the two siblings in view. She should be able to watch them without being too obvious.
“Alright, Big Mac. I don’t expect any trouble, but you’re the expert, so let me know if there’s anything I shouldn’t be doing.” If only he knew.
Big Mac nods and steps to the side to see around Applejack.
Both Applejack and Twilight notice at the same time the flicker of motion below Big Mac’s stomach. His cock. Growing fast enough that Twilight can actually see it. A weight drops in Twilight’s stomach: she’s passing the point of no return. Symbols for arousal are reinforcing themselves in Applejack, and in Big Mac as well, even if he cannot notice. His breath is a little more labored, too. If Twilight doesn’t stop them now, she might not be able to.
For a moment neither mare makes a move; then Twilight grabs the dead tree in her magic and starts pulling, while Applejack dives underneath her brother with a wild look on her face. She nearly knocks him over, and he has to step backwards to absorb the motion. While he’s taller than she is, she still has to stoop low to get her head between his forelegs and below his barrel, finally settling onto her elbows to get into a comfortable position. Without ceremony, Applejack slurps her tongue up the underside of Big Mac’s shaft.
Twilight moans, watching Applejack’s tongue slide far too quickly up his shaft. She far prefers a slow, torturous teasing to start, but the raw desperation painted over Applejack’s face hits Twilight harder than she’d expected.
Big Mac exhales loudly, unconsciously shifting his hips and angling his cock for her to reach.
“It’s a lot bigger than I expected,” Twilight mutters, then quickly adds, “I’m going to have to go slowly, or else I might snap off some roots deep underground.”
“Go ahead . . . mmm, Miss Sparkle. Take . . . oof, take yer time,” he says, grunting and moaning through his speech.
Twilight resists the urge to squeal. Before, Big Mac might have been consciously ignoring Applejack’s affections; or perhaps his family really is that close. But there’s no way he’d knowingly let Applejack suck his dick in front of another pony.
Applejack’s tongue dances around Big Mac’s length, spreading a thick layer of saliva from his balls to the tip. She actually has to lean forward to reach the base, digging her nose right into his crotch and inhaling pure stallion musk.
Twilight pretends to concentrate on the tree, but she keeps her focus on Big Mac. He’s trying to keep his breath steady, but with Applejack slurping noisily up and down his cock and sucking his balls, he’s having a hard time of it. Every now and then a flash of confusion slides over his face, just for a moment, usually after a deep moan or a shudder. Even Twilight’s symbols are struggling to mask Applejack’s surprisingly talented mouth.
Applejack releases his ball from her mouth with a loud slurp, then smoothly closes her lips around the head and dives forward. Big Mac neighs and thrusts back at her. Applejack shakes as she tries to take more and more of him inside her, and gags when his cock pushes against the back of her throat.
Applejack blowing her own brother is amazingly hot in its own right, but Twilight is drawn to Big Mac’s face. He grunts and pants, absolutely oblivious to the source of the sounds he’s making. When Applejack starts bobbing her head, his hips start thrusting all on their own, in time with her motions.
Well, it is only Twilight’s first attempt. With the right symbols she sees no real reason she can’t have the two of them rutting incognito in the middle of town.
“Y’alright there, Miss—mmm—Sparkle?”
Twilight jerks back; she’d been staring. “Yes. Of course.” She needs a distraction. “How is Applebloom?”
“Applebloom? Aw, she’s doin’ great. Not that she wa—haaaaaa—wasn’t already, of course, but Ah think ever—uhhhhh!—since you gave her all that help with her homework, she’s been enjoyin’ class more.” He snorts, stamping his forehoof, as Applejack slurps noisily up and down his cock. After a moment to regain his breath he continues, “Now she’s always bouncin’ around, eager to show off her grades.” He tries to chuckle, but it comes out depraved. “’Course, it might be because she thinks she deserves a break from her chores.”
Applejack pulls back, letting his cock bounce free as she gasps for air. Big Mac’s cock shines with saliva. His hips hunch forward, trying to keep himself hilted in her mouth, and he whines low in frustration, but she’s only rearranging herself, and lunges forward, forcing his cock to the back of her mouth. Her lips are still only halfway to his crotch. She breathes sharply through her nose, groaning from the smell she’s inhaling from point blank range.
Twilight realizes he’s finished talking. “And does she?”
Big Mac whinnies, sweat beading down his forehead, and shakes his head. “Not a chance. Ohhh! Still, good to see she’s improving.”
Applejack works her jaw, takes a deep breath, then starts pushing forward, swallowing desperately. She has to lean forward and straighten her neck, and after a moment’s hesitation his cock presses down into her throat. Twilight can’t quite see her face, but she can see tears dripping down around her cheeks, mixing with a trickle of saliva dripping down off her chin. All around her float symbols indicating pride, a lack of breath, and a need for more.
Above, Big Mac lets out a long, low groan as more and more of his cock disappears into Applejack’s mouth.
Twilight feels something lurch underground and gives a firm pull. The dead tree rises about six inches out of its hole.
“Wow . . . Definitely never . . . seen that before,” Big Mac pants.
“Me neither. This is exciting!” The tree gives a shake, and several leaves and small branches fall to the ground. Twilight can feel the ground rumbling under her hooves. “I’m quite glad Applejack asked me to help.” She pauses, then casually asks, “And how is Applejack?”
Big Mac raises an eyebrow.
Twilight shrugs. “Just curious. I haven’t seen her around as much recently.”
Big Mac smiles. “Uh huh. And it—Oh!—it wouldn’t have nothin’ to do with her spendin’ her time—haaa!—with a certain stallion?”
Twilight’s magic nearly shatters the tree.
“What?!”
She looks at the mare under Big Mac’s stomach, laboriously deepthroating her brother. Applejack pushes forward with her hindlegs, shoving herself forward over her elbows. Her tail flags high, smacking Big Mag under his chin and exposing herself completely to Twilight and the rest of the world. “She’s seeing somepony? A stallion?”
He laughs. “Ah think so. That little—ugh!—filly has been sneakin’ in an’ out in the dead of night. Hasn’t told us anythin’—huh . . . HNGGG!”
He grunts, clenching his jaw and stomach muscles tight, and curls over his sister, taking slow, deep breaths to hold back an orgasm. When he manages to speak Twilight can barely make out his words: “so of course—OH—we all noticed. Ah think even little Applebloom knows what’s goin’ on. HA!” he exhales painfully, but from the symbols pouring out of his mouth, he’s actually laughing.
“Do you know who it is?”
Big Mac purses his lips, brow furrowed, likely deciding how much to share. “Ah don’t know, but Ah got some ideas. You know that black Pegasus on the weather team?”
“Thunderlane? Applejack’s seeing a Pegasus?”
“Think so. She’s always had a thing for Pegasi. Ah caught her starin’ at him when he an’ Miss Dash flew overhead a couple days ago.”
“Really?”
Applejack grunts and leans back just enough to free one of her forehooves. She quickly finds her cunt and starts humping back and forth. Her groans are longer and harder, even with her mouth and throat plugged with Big Mac’s cock. Any moment now—and Big Mac isn’t far behind—
“Maybe she was just distracted,” Twilight mutters, torn between this piece of gossip and Applejack’s impending explosion.
“Got all flustered when Ah asked her. Said it weren’t none of—Ohhhh! Ah!”
Something gives way.
Applejack groans, her stomach clenching and unclenching and her tail sticking straight out. There’s a muddy patch of dirt between where her knees are scraping over the ground, and wetness on her thighs. She stops bobbing her head, unable to hold still or focus on anything other than her crotch. Her back straightens in one last spasm, then she slumps.
After a moment she pulls off his cock with a gasp, collapses to the ground, and sighs. Twilight doesn’t need to see her face to read her expression: symbols of desperate need; fear and nervousness getting squashed; sore forelegs, one of which is still stuck between her thighs. Big Mac pants in exhaustion, relaxing a little and regaining his balance, even as his throbbing cock bounces in place, angry and shiny with drool and leaking precum.
“—none of mah business.”
Twilight stares at him in disbelief. Despite Applejack’s enthusiasm, he still hasn’t orgasmed. Before he can notice her irritation, she turns and takes out her frustration on the tree caught in her magic’s stranglehold, yanking it out another foot. She could induce an orgasm—she could make him come so hard he blacks out—but that would be giving up. It has to be Applejack, but even with Applejack’s best, it isn’t enough, and now Applejack’s exhausted too.
Applejack has to make him come—but maybe Twilight can give them both a little push.
“Fascinating. And . . . Do you think she’s—that is, that they’ve—you know?” she asks, casually holding onto the half-uprooted tree as she turns to face him.
He shakes his head. “Naw, Ah don’t,” he says simply.
Carefully crafting a hoofful of symbols, she explains, “Applejack’s done a lot of growing up recently. She isn’t a filly anymore. I wouldn’t be too surprised if—” Deep breath. He won’t remember. “—if she’s having sex.”
His eyes glaze over a moment as he absorbs her new symbols, then he frowns. “Maybe . . . but it ain’t none of my business.”
“Really?” She smiles, her frustration pushing her forward. “You don’t care if she’s intimate with some young stallion? One as strong and masculine as Thunderlane? He’s got quite a few mares looking his way, after all. It certainly wouldn’t be his first rodeo.”
Big Mac shrugs, but his breathing is getting heavier again, and this time Applejack doesn’t have his cock down her throat. All Twilight’s symbols have done is encourage his imagination a little.
“Not that Applejack can’t hold her own. She’s very fit. Fun to be around. Doesn’t take grief from anypony. Applejack gets what she wants.”
Applejack whimpers. She presses forward with her hindlegs, lifts her hips up and starts furiously rubbing her crotch, completely forgetting Big Mac’s cock. Moisture drips down her inner thighs, as her tail washes waves of arousal over the ground.
Twilight slowly walks towards him, her hips bouncing with each step—not that he really notices. “One twitch of that tail, a look over her shoulder, a wiggle of her hips.” Twilight pauses for a moment, watching him struggle. “She’s got a great rump, don’t you think, Big Mac? I’m sure you’ve seen it.”
The rump in question bounces and flexes as she hoofs herself. Big Mac’s cock bobs right above her head, drooling onto her hat.
“She’ll corner him, somewhere private—maybe even out here—and knock that poor stallion to the ground. He’s already very aroused. Applejack is all over him, but the real prize is the piece of meat he’s packing, and Applejack wants a taste. Do you think she likes giving head? I do. I bet she’s real good at it too. Applejack’s good at everything she does.”
She steps up to him, her mouth inches from his ear. “Just imagine: that thick cock, pressing down on her tongue, pushing up against the back of her throat. She’s slobbering all over his crotch—all over your crotch.”
Applejack smacks her lips and mmm-hmms, rocking back and forth on her knees. Up close, Twilight can see Applejack’s face better. She’s close, and isn’t holding back. Symbols build around her hips, mixing and reinforcing with Big Mac’s.
Big Mac groans. “M—Miss Twilight! Why—”
“I know you love her, Big Mac. You just want to protect her and keep her safe and happy. And you know just how to make her happy, don’t you?”
Big Mac shakes his head, eyes clenched shut like they could block Twilight’s voice or the smell of a horny filly right below his nose. His hip muscles flex as he tries to hold himself still under the assault of her tail flicking him and the images in his mind, and failing miserably.
“Any other stallion would only break her heart, but not you. She’s always looked up to you. She’ll trust you with anything—even herself. She may be seeing some other stallion, but only because she’s waiting for you.”
“No—”
Twilight grabs his chin and kisses him. He’s all straight jawline and trembling lips, none of his usual, casual strength left. Just a meek little kitten.
Big Mac gasps, stumbles, knocking Applejack’s hat back. She looks up in a daze, and her eyes catch motion right in front of her.
“Just ask, and she’ll say—”
“Stars above, Big Mac!” Applejack cries, and lunges forward, swallows his cock.
Big Mac whinnies and thrusts forward, shoving his cock down her throat. Her nose bumps against his abdomen. He stomps his hooves and gasps. Applejack struggles to swallow, and Twilight can see her cheeks puffing, see her throat working in huge gulps, see tears dripping down her cheeks. And all the while Applejack keeps hoofing herself, even as she’s shoved back onto her knees, giving Twilight an unobstructed view.
Big Mac thrusts his hips so far forward he knocks Applejack back, popping her off his cock. She coughs and snorts, cum sliding out her lips and down her chin. He thrusts again, as if he’s still hilted, his flared tip rubbing up her face. An eager spurt of cum splashes over her snout, her face, even hitting her hat.
Twilight whimpers. More! she demands, and shoves symbols right into his abdomen and crotch. His cock pulses and he blasts a fresh shot of cum on Applejack’s face, most of it sliding down her cheeks and dripping down her neck.
Twilight’s hoof finds its way between her thighs. She’s dripping with arousal. More! Cum splashes into Applejack’s hair, a thick rope bridging her bangs and her nose.
More! Don’t stop! She’s so close!
Thick puddles of semen drip down from the brim of Applejack’s hat. She opens her mouth and catches even more, gulping over and over but still overflowing. Big Mac is a giver, his sack pulsing with pressure even as his cock presses up against her cheek and explodes over the side of her face.
Twilight can feel it barreling down on her with all the subtlety of Big Mac’s cock. All she needs is—
Applejack gulps down her mouthful and groans. “Oh, Big Mac . . . Ah love you.”
That’ll do nicely!
The tree in Twilight’s grasp finally gives way, crumpling and splintering into a mess of timber. Twilight collapses, trapping her slickened forehoof between her legs. She hears Big Mac whinny one last time, and Applejack groan, but she can’t see past the stars bouncing in her vision.
One by one her hastily scrawled symbols fade, unable to support themselves. Twilight rolls onto her side and pants, her lungs bellowing, trying to get enough air. She looks over. Big Mac has actually fallen onto his back. His chest is heaving and his limbs are limp, and his cock is still squirting weak streams of runny cum over his stomach. It’ll probably take a few minutes for it to stop.
Applejack crawls up between his legs and starts licking the last of the spunk from his cock. She either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that she’s dripping onto him and making more mess.
Twilight rests for a second, then pushes herself to her hooves. Once the twitches die down enough for her to stand she turns to the remainder of the tree, reaches deep into its roots, and pulls. The tree slides easily from its prison, and she carelessly tosses it on its side. Far more important is Applejack’s secret relationship with Rainbow Dash—not Thunderlane, obviously, Applejack’s not into stallions—and, apparently, a possible secret infatuation with her brother. Maybe Applejack can illuminate things.
She walks over. Applejack is gently suckling Big Mac’s cock, slick and limp. His cum slowly stains Applejack’s hat, and it’s starting to cool and dry in her hair. Even so, and even with the jizz streaked all over her body, she looks utterly relaxed and content, making happy Applejack noises. Hmm. Can Applejack even see her? Does she know what she’d done with her brother, in front of a witness? Twilight waves a hoof in front of her eyes.
Applejack’s blank expression fades and she notices Twilight’s hoof. “Uh, howdy Twi’,” she says, letting Big Mac’s dick flop from her lips and shaking her head in confusion.
Twilight tilts her head, readying a set of quick-setting symbols just in case. “The tree’s out,” she says carefully, judging Applejack’s reaction.
“Oh yeah?” Applejack asks. A drop of Big Mac’s seed falls from the brim of her hat and lands on her nose. “Let’s see.”
Twilight helps Applejack to her hooves and they approach the hole in the ground. “I made a mess,” Twilight admitted, “but it’s all out. A little stomping and the ground should level out nicely.”
“Mah word,” Applejack mutters, marvelling at the mess of timber and splinters beside the giant hole. “Twi’, Ah think Mac and Ah will be hiring you next time we need a tree removed.”
Twilight smiles. “Wonderful! Oh, I just knew I could impress you. There’s so many other things we can do with magic to help you both out around the farm.”
Applejack raises a hoof. “Tempting, but Mac and Ah like our routine. It’s hard, sometimes, but normally the two of us get into a groove and time just flies by.” She nods at the tree. “But, seriously, that was mighty friendly of you.”
Twilight looks over Applejack’s shoulder at Big Mac. He’s deep into a well-deserved nap; his cock lies limp over his gut, still juicy and glimmering in the midday sun.
“It’s absolutely no problem. I enjoyed it. Why go to all that work, and waste days and days on something, if I can get it done in a few minutes for you?” Twilight smiles. “I’m here to help.”
“Aw, shucks, Sug’,” Applejack said, and nuzzles Twilight affectionately, smearing a bit of cum on her cheek.
Twilight plasters a smile to her face and clenches her jaw in revulsion.
Applejack leans back and smiles. In the afterglow of two orgasms she’ll never know, she’s positively glowing. “Let’s get this mess cleaned up, then we’re gonna treat you to lunch.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Twilight says casually, imagining what set of symbols she’ll need next. She’s still horny; their show has given her an appetite. “And you can tell me all about you and Dash.”
Applejack sputters. “Wha—How did—Git back here, Twi’!”
Author's Note
The End
I think my shtick is that Twilight is a horrible pony in any reality.
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