Author's Note

This chapter contains lots of incest. Beginning to end. There's not really much more to say, other than that this chapter isn't technically vital if you're focused on the story, and want to avoid the incest parts. If you want sibling bonding, read on. If not, the next chapter will be far more to your tastes.

Apple Sauce

Of all the dreams he'd ever had, Big Mac couldn't recall having any that were particularly vivid. Some of them were more vibrant than others, but he was a simple stallion with simple interests, so 'strange' wasn't a word he often found himself using. In some dreams, he was a heroic adventurer, but they were usually generic and easily explained. In others, he was doing work for his ma and pa, sharing stories and lemonade with them on a warm summer evening, watching the sun set over the orchard. Either way, he knew when his dreams were dreams, and they never crossed into situations he couldn't explain.

This, though, was a situation he couldn't explain.

He was cuddling up to his sister, as they often did during their sleep. They'd never stopped sleeping in the same bed, and being the adults of the family and the ones responsible for keeping the farm in good order, they took comfort in one another, their bond remaining true and strong throughout their childhood and beyond. After their parents had passed, Applejack barely left his side, keeping him close for fear she'd lose him too. As they entered their teens, their nighttime routine had remained unchanged. His sister was the last pony he saw before he went to sleep, and the first he saw waking up.

He couldn't remember the last time they woke up in the middle of the night. Off the top of his head, it was during a storm in their early teens, and the younger mare was frightened. She shook him awake and had to be held, shaking against his toned body until she felt safe again, and they fell asleep again in one another's embrace, the stallion waiting until his sister's breathing had calmed before he allowed himself to close his eyes. He remembered how he'd felt then; determined, responsible, and protective.

Now he felt entirely different.

The orange mare in his grasp was murmuring softly, her back pressed against his chest, and her butt wiggling against his groin. Her movements almost seemed deliberate, the constant back-and-forth of her waist far too coordinated and repetitive to be a simple accident. Her tail, trapped between them, tickled his abs, the coarse hairs caressing his muscular torso while her rear rubbed insistently at his crotch and groin, grinding up and down, her softness toying with his sculpted thighs and the hardness between his legs.

Of all the things that he was utterly unfamiliar with - the thumping of his heart without exertion on his part, the greater intensity of their contact, the powerful energy thrumming through him - the one which he found both alarming and intriguing was just how hard his johnson felt. It was rigid, his sister's rear sliding over the appendage like she was playing with it, or polishing it, and for whatever reason, it felt good. It felt really good. He let out a shaky breath, the separation of their bodies by their pajama bottoms doing nothing to lessen the tender tingle resulting from her gyrations against him.

His hand moved down to his waistband of their own accord, pulling down on the fabric and struggling to fit it over the engorged splendour of his stallionhood. With some wiggling, he managed to let it spring free, slapping against Applejack's rear with a muffled whap, the impact coaxing a gasp from both ponies. The orange mare looked over her shoulder, her acute, searching expression making it clear he had her full attention. For a moment, the stallion wondered if he'd crossed a line, done something that would earn him a chewing out, but she bit her lower lip, and he felt her own pajama bottoms slide across the topside of his shaft. They locked eyes, their nightwear around their knees, and resumed their movements, the two gyrating in tandem.

Her buttocks were soft against his waist, two globes of machined perfection to massage his unyeilding muscle, and her thighs were the perfect balance between supple and firm against his length. Parting her legs slightly, she allowed him to slide snugly between them, indulging in the subtle flexes and ripples as she moved. Sandwiched between her two powerful pillars, Mac felt slickness against his shaft, too invigorated to care about what or why, basting in her juices and the strong heat radiating from her crotch. With every pass he made, he grew wetter, her fluids lubing his girth and messing her coat no doubt, but neither of them stopped. The fur of her coat brushed at his pole, her labia kissing the top of his shaft, the wet, hot sensations unlike anything he'd ever experienced before, or ever knew he could want. The contact was welcoming, inviting, and he wanted more than just the barest graze of their anatomy, and the anticipatory, affirming gleam in her eyes told her she wanted it just as much, if not more.

Pulling back, the stallion angled himself, pressing his tip against Applejack's spring, and pushed. There was a little resistance, but nowhere near enough to prevent his member parting her walls and gliding inside her. The mare gasped, her hands clapping to her muzzle to keep herself quiet as the stallion's appendage spread her passage wide, her walls clamping tightly around his intruding girth. Mac gritted his teeth as he pushed on, spearing into her until his hips came to rest on her buttocks. He didn't remain still, pulling back until his medial ring slipped from her confines, and thrust forward again, falling into a steady pattern.

Applejack's breathing came in huffs and pants, her exhalations synchronised almost perfectly to his penetration, and her inhalations coming as he withdrew. The stallion sped up, his rocking becoming more urgent, and the mare responded in kind, her breathing accelerating as he softly slapped against her rear, their bodies meeting with a cycling tap-tap-tap. Pressing his muzzle to her cheek, Mac let his lips peck at her, affectionately decorating her face with tender touches and doting licks while his tool mapped out her interior. Her hand cupped his neck and his cheek, holding and stroking him tenderly in unspoken approval and appreciation, expressing through touch what she couldn't through words or noises.

Mac let his own hand drift down his sister's side, his wide palm caressing her waist as it travelled to her hip to hold onto her, providing a more comfortable grasp and better leverage to move in short, moderated thrusts. He tried to control his pace, making sure there was a consistency with his motions, aiming to keep the general goodness of the situation on track. It was like eating a good meal, or celebrating cider season; he couldn't be greedy and overindulge, not when pacing himself - revelling in the sensation - was so much more gratifying, filling him with a rolling hum of deep pleasure.

The stallion had always functioned on what he knew, or what his instincts told him, and right now, he didn't know what he was doing. He'd never thought of interacting with other ponies in the way he was interacting with Applejack, but his instincts guided him, and he let them. His thoughts were sparse and fleeting, his mind occupied with the swirling wonder of their actions. Energy thrummed through him, a constant drive for more, and he listened, allowing himself to bask in how good it felt to be doing this with her, and not just physically; the lightness that spread through him, the fiery contentment, the climbing joy he usually associated with friendly competition or hard work, that was the most rewarding feeling. It not only felt good, it felt right, like he was supposed to be doing this. The thought of why he'd never wanted to do it before, or why the desire had only arisen now, never crossed his mind, and even if it had, he would've ignored it.

His breath ran hot over Applejack's neck and cheek, her own panting perodically caressing his muzzle as he walked his lips over her skin. The hushed huffs of breathing overcame the sound of their bodies mashing together, the drumming beat of his heart covering the quiet clap of his hips meeting her buttocks. To the stallion, every sound he made was powerful, throbbing, and he absently worried about waking the house. Would they hear the low grunts he uttered, or the roar of his desire? With how primed he was, his vigour rumbling ever more eagerly inside him with every passing second, it was hard to believe that nopony else could hear them.

As enraptured by their joining as he was, Mac still noticed the mare's grinding, her tush pushing insistently back against his groin, desperately trying to take more of his phallus into her snug confines, even as they expended all the room they had available. No matter how much they moved, how firmly they thrusted or pushed, they couldn't get any closer, and yet the ardent need wouldn't quiet down. He knew how she felt; he wanted more from this experience. He wanted to be deeper inside her, to feel more of her, even though she felt amazing already. Perhaps he wanted more of her because she felt so amazing. Whatever the case, he wanted more, and she did too.

With an impatient, gravelly snarl, he nudged the earth pony mare onto her front, rolling her over with his bodyweight, ignoring any objection she may have had, though he doubted she had a single complaint. Now atop her, the stallion adjusted his position, taking advantage of the new angle to slide a few more inches into the pony beneath him. He felt as well as heard her gasp, the deep intake of air pushing her back up towards his chest. Even though it was more of the same, it was still more, and that felt sweeter to the muscular stallion, his tool sheathed deeper in that irresistable silken channel.

His movements began again in their slow, deliberate earnest pattern, his lips dancing over Applejack's neck and shoulders, nipping softly here and there, while his waist resumed its staggered humping. His tip probed further inside her, spreading her walls and exploring parts of her body she'd never have been able to reach without his generous involvement, the unyeilding mass of his thickness bringing the feeling of being filled into vivid reality for her. At least, that was how he assumed it was for her, with how tightly her insides clung to him, her muscles squeezing demandingly around his length, and her stifled voice expressing her feelings in more strenuous puffs and whimpers. He tried to keep his own sounds to a minimum, letting his rumbles of pleasure roll around in his chest, hoping that refusing to let the excitement past his throat would keep the secrecy of their act.

Growing more confident with their position, and feeling his urges throbbing more hungrily, Mac quickened his pace, rolling his hips in wider rotations to plunge more deeply into Applejack's sodden delta. He applied some force to a bite against her shoulder, feeling the skin depress between his teeth just a tad, and heard his sister hiss as the sensation drew close to pain. Before it could, he released his grip, sweeping his tongue across the spot he'd marked, and kissed it, moving along to nip more softly at her neck. He explored, trusting his new instincts to tell him how much was too much, and what he needed to do. The orange pony beneath him writhed and squirmed in restrained yearning, the same craving that had sank its claws into him causing her to demand more, to seek greater satisfaction from the masculine paragon atop her.

Mac barely noticed her hand sink underneath her body, until the tips of her fingers brushed against the underside of his member, the simple contact sending a ripple up his stiffness. He tensed for a second, the additional stimulation catching him by surprise, before he renewed his determined thrusting, jabbing in jagged jerks which smoothed out into methodical, rhythmic cycle. The thought of Granny and Apple Bloom overhearing and coming to investigate sent a nervous trill through him, but his body ignored his concern and urged him onwards, the anxiety tempering his compulsion to ram away furiously.

Applejack turned her head to look at him as he pulled his chest away from her back and rested his hands either side of her, her questioning expression falling away as he slid into her again, gliding deep into her welcoming grip. It was easier to move like this, simply because sheer penetration he managed to achieve gave him an incentive to maximise the length of his strokes, keeping his speed slow and steady. When his nuts came to rest below her entrance, he felt her fingers still there, rubbing in circles and inadvertently brushing against his heavy orbs. He shuddered, anticipating the irregular contact she made with him every time he drew himself close.

The mare's breath quickened as he sawed into her, and after several minutes of his treatment, she lifted her rear up from the bed, her panting no longer a soft, breathy whimper, but a heavy huff. The flush on her cheeks was visible even in the darkness of the room, her coat doing nothing to disguise her vibrant reaction to their activities. Invigorated by the sight, he moved his hands to her waist, taking hold of her and forcing himself to exert some measure of control over his urges. With a breath to steady himself, he sped up again, pistoning powerfully into her.

Applejack let out a yip as he sank into her, turning to bury her face into the pillow and smother her much more open cries of pleasure. Grasping her hips to keep her steady, the stallion rocked himself back and forth, feeling the tingle as his medial ring squeezed between her inner lips with each pass. His testicles swung with the motion of his waist, tapping against her rapidly strumming digits as she insistnetly rubbed herself, the combination of what he was doing and what she was doing drawing a barrage of groans and oddly feminine vocalisations from the mare. Mac bit his tongue to stay silent, the odd snort making its way from his muzzle as he drove himself into her canal, held back from plowing her fully by the need to keep quiet, frustration building inside him at an equal rate to his passion, his sister's rising yells - however muffled - fueling his flame.

Even if he didn't know why, it was apparent to the stallion that Applejack was close to some sort of conclusion; her body trembled, her tail whipped frantically, and her voice rose in pitch, volume, and urgency, and she visibly became tenser and tenser. The components of her reaction intensified, becoming more pronounced with every passing second, until with a final squeal, she shoved her face deeper into the pillow and clasped it around her head with both hands.

Her muscles went wild, clamping down like a vice on Mac's malehood. His eyes widened in surprise, but he pushed on, struggling through the onset of tightness and the forceful massage it provided. Applejack bellowed, her legs quaking and her hips bucking seemingly at random, the sound of her explosive episode reduced somewhat by the pillows and the sheets. The stallion leaned into her, trying to quiet the noise somewhat, and held her close, his broad torso an immovable wall against her thrashing, his turgidity relentlessly squeezed from within her embrace as she rode out her bout.

It took half a minute for her spasms to stop, and even longer for her interior to stop toying with his shaft. In spite of how much he wanted to continue, to reach whatever completition this activity had, concern for his sister overrode all of that, and he stayed still, monitoring her. He could feel her heart beating strongly from the contact between them, and her back rose and fell against his chest from her steady, albeit accelerated, breathing. She was fine, by all counts, but he wanted to make sure.

"Git," the orange mare muttered, turning her head just enough so he could hear the words past the pillow. "Off." He hastened to obey, taking a deep breath in as he pulled away from her, his member retreating from her welcoming snugness. It was a mild night, but by comparison to being inside her, it felt mighty cold, the air against his uncovered flesh making him shiver.

"Are ya okay?" he asked, his deep rumble filling the room in spite of his efforts to remain quiet. He winced, wondering if the other two residents of the house had heard them. She hadn't exactly been quiet, and there was no telling how loud it could get if she didn't try to silence herself. His question received a nod, the mare pressing a finger to her lips and turning over, pulling her pyjama bottoms all the way off and tossing them to the side. Now naked from the waist down, she eased herself off the bed, touching her hooves as quietly as she could to the floor. Looking back at him, she gestured for him to follow, standing up and creeping towards the bedroom door. He hesitated, considering calling for her to stop for a second or two, before relenting and kicking off his own nightwear.

The pair of them made their way silently through the house, taking their time to sneak down the stairs and unlock the door without creating any additional noise. Mac figured they'd already caused enough of a ruckus, but the house was silent except for their booming heartbeats and nervous breaths. Closing the door silently behind them, Applejack grabbed Big Mac's hand and practically pulled him away from the house, the profile of the barn visible ahead of them in the generous glow of the moon.

The stallion felt his heart stammer a little, caught between being excited and anxious. He'd snuck out of the house with his sister when they were younger, just to play around in the fields or to try and catch mice, or to play in the early morning snow. It felt a lot like that - the same mischievous glee, the same dash of risk making it worthwile - and yet it felt like something entirely new too, something entirely unexplored. Perhaps it was something to do with the fact that they were both outside naked.

When he thought of it like that, he realised just how different it all felt. Just how much it felt. The night's breeze, no more harsh or rowdy than usual, brushed more deeply against his coat, ruffling the hair and soothing his skin underneath. The crunch of his hooves against the soil sounded more crisp, more vivid, and he could make out the sounds of critters scurrying in the grass beyond the fence. The trees in the orchard had sharper definition, and he swore he could make out details he shouldn't have been able to, like the shade of the apples hanging from the branches, swaying lazily as though in some gentle current in a waterless sea. Even Applejack's palm, squeezed against his own, felt more expressive, somehow, like he could skim the outer wisps of her thoughts.

They soon reached the barn, Applejack heaving the door open with a groaning creek, pulling him inside, and closing the door behind them, secluding them with a laden metalic squeak and a wooden clunk. The light from outside was cut off, severing the outside world and leaving only the familiarity of the barn, the dry smell of straw and hay sitting still and omnipresent in the air, the shuffle of hooves on the floorboards disrupting the restfullness of the enclosed space. A lantern hung on a supporting beam cracked placcidly, throwing a potent orange glow around the room, and the two siblings turned to face each other, seeing each other in full light for the first time since they'd woken up.

"That was mighty strange," the mare started, her expression stoic as she opened the conversation. At her voice, a confused, throaty cluck issued from one of the enclosures to the side, which they both ignored. They had more important things to do than to assure their chickens that nothing was amiss.

"Eeyup," Mac agreed, nodding his head. He didn't have anything to add, and so stayed silent, the light scrape of clawed feet against the floor informing them that the inhabitants of the barn were fully awake. It looked like they'd have an audience.

"Ah have no idea what happened, but ah'll be damned if ah didn't like it." She started pacing swinging her arms by her side. The stallion cocked an eyebrow, surprised at her restlessness. She wasn't normally one to move about unless she needed to. "Whatever you did...whatever we did...it just worked."

"Ah don't know what happened."

"But ya know it felt good."

"Yeah, ah guess it did."

"And you're still standin' to attention like a royal guard at a highfalutin ceremony."

"Ah can't help it."

"Ah can."

He blinked at her words. "What do ya mean?"

"Back in the house, ah felt mighty hot, almost like ah was thirsty, or hungry, and whatever ya did, it wound me up tight an' made me...ah dunno. It felt like a release, whatever it was." The mare's gaze fell to the protruding anatomy from the stallion's crotch. "Ah'm guessin' ya feel the same right 'bout now? All tight an' tense an' wantin' somethin' to help release the steam in your pipes?" He didn't need to answer; his awkard shuffle and the bob of his penis gave her all the answer she needed. With his answer essentially given, she moved forward, drawn towards his substantial shape, its subtle twitches and shifts intriguing and exciting her, her attraction strengthening with every step she took.

"Are ya sure about this?" Mac asked as his sister's hands reached out to his anatomy. He stopped her, closing his sizable fists around her wrists to stop her touching him. "This ain't somethin' we've ever done before, an' ah ain't even sure it's somethin' we should be doin'."

"What sorta talk is that?" the mare huffed. "We ain't ponies who shy away from somethin' because it's new an' scary. Heck, half the times ah'm away with Twilight an' the girls, we're doin' somethin' dangerous an' outrageous. Why is this any different?" She tried to pull her arms from his grasp, to no avail.

"It just is," he insisted. "It ain't some end of the world scenario that requires reckless action, and what we're doin' don't feel exactly friendly. It's more like somethin' two ponies who love each other would do."

"Now ah know you're just talkin' baloney!" the blonde mare huffed. "Have ya ever seen or heard of any couple doin' what we're doin'? An' if we ain't supposed to be doin' it, why do we want to? It don't feel wrong to be doin' this, Big Mac." Her expression softened a little. "And 'sides, don't ya love me?"

"Of course ah do," he assured her. "But ya know what ah mean."

"Then show me ya love me."

He knew she was right. At least, she sounded right, and she wasn't one to back down in the face of adversity. He could argue with her all night, and she'd still insist. The thing was, he didn't want to argue with her, and it was only the itching anxiety at the back of his mind that made him object at all. He was totally on board with their new activity, and her resilience in the face of his concern quickly wore down his resistance.

"Eeyup," he agreed, his grip loosening on her wrists. "Ah will." Taking a deep breath, he felt a tickle at his nostrils, something subtle making itself known. He couldn't put his finger on what it was, other than that it was pleasant, and it reminded him of the time he spent holding his sister close. The comfort of that made him smile, and he let Applejack's arms free. "Ah guess you're right. Ah'm just worryin' 'bout nothin'."

"It's 'cause you're all tense an' pent up," she told him. "Look at how swollen your pecker is. No wonder you're all moody." She knelt down, eyeing his engorged phallus with a curious interest he couldn't recall seeing many times from her before. "How 'bout ah do somethin' 'bout it?"

Before the stallion could give an answer, her fingers had already wrapped themselves around his girth, the digits unable to touch around his circumference. Experimentally, she squeezed, just about able to touch her thumb to her fingertip with the moderate amount of give his flesh had, his shaft pulsing and growing firmer from the pressure. Apparently approving of her little test, she moved on to another, extending her tongue and dragging it up the rounded peak of his stick. While Mac dragged in a breath through his teeth, the contact sending a sharp, prickling down the top quarter of his staff, the orange mare took a second to assess the taste of his tip, her expression suggesting that, yes, he was very much an edible treat.

Applejack's lips bumped against his plateau a soft cushion ahead of her muzzle, before moving to ensnare his glans, following the shape of his schlong as her jaw widened and she took him into her mouth. A slow groan left the stallion's throat at the strange comfort, the advancing embrace of her maw warmly welcoming him. Somehow, it was intense and gentle at once, the feather-light pressure of her lips sending an expansive tingle through the skin she touched as she glided seemingly effortlessly down his pole. He watched as his dick disappeared into Applejack's mouth, his sister persisting in her obsessive curiosity towards his phallus, driven to pull it into her, to have it stuff her and fill her, to explore and experience it with all of her senses. She wanted to taste him, to have his flavour linger on her tastebuds so she could always enjoy his masculinity, no matter where she was.

Or was that what he wanted her to want?

The uninvited thought was brushed aside by the sway of her tongue against his undercarriage, curving to his cynlindrical shape as she tried to find a place for it to rest while she added more and more cock into her limited space. Her muscle twirled left and right, weaving aimlessly around his unyeilding pillar, every movement and touch painting lines of focused pleasure across his flesh. He swore he stiffened even more, pulsing and feeling a wet dribble creep through his pipe, but the mare pressed on, rolling her lips as though trying to crawl her way closer to his groin.

She'd nearly reached his medial ring, a good two-fifths of his stallionhood engulfed, when she ran out of room, his tip bumping into the top and bottom of her tract. The orange mare pressed forward more, compressing the cargo in her gob, but she'd managed all she could. Mac grunted, the humid embrace becoming a pinching discomfort as he was pushed against a passage too narrow to fit him, neither of their bodies malleable enough to fit. The mare gagged and pulled back.

"Are you alright?" he rumbled as the girl slid off him, thick strings of saliva bridging her to his monument. She coughed hoarsely, turning away and tensing, air caught in her throat. The drool thinned and snapped, dangling from each of their body parts that had been engaged in their experiment.

"Ah'm fine," she insisted, waving away his concern as she wiped her muzzle, smearing her spit over her coat. "Just a lot to f-" She paused to hiccup, suppressing a spasm that threatened to overtake her. "-fit in. You're pretty big, if it somehow escaped your notice." She cast her eyes to his penis again, now slathered in a messy serving of her slobber. Reaching out once more, she grasped it, feeling the weight of his substantial slab against her palm, and allowed herself to feel along its length, once more taking in just how firm and alive it felt. The gob-polish she'd adorned his pole with was cool by comparison to his simmering temperature, and made for easy travelling, her hands growing sticky, but managing to glide over his rigidity.

"Do ya reckon ah can taste you?" the stallion suggested, letting the mare have her feel of his tool while he spoke. "Ya seem t'like my taste, an' you've got a real nice smell 'bout ya tonight..." As if his words prompted a realisation from her, the blonde's nostrils flexed as she sniffed, and he received a huff of agreement, a snort from her billowing hot breath over his slickened shaft, cooling almost instantly as it came into contact with the liquid spread across his flesh. He let out of groan of his own, the sensation rolling through his body too slowly to be a shudder, but just as significant.

"Ah ain't mindin'," she answered, continuing her casual intimate massage. "But ah ain't stoppin' just so you can get your fill. You gotta find a way to make it work for both of us."

Applejack's offer hadn't long left her mouth before Mac reacted, being polite enough to allow her to finish her sentence before he grasped her shoulders and guided her onto her back, his broadness and weight alone compelling her to obey his direction. With her in place, he knelt down, knees resting either side of her head, and rested on his hands above her body, facing down towards her legs.

"Clever."

"Ah ain't blunt," he commented. "Ah've got smarts when it counts."

"Apparently, when it comes t'fun," she shot back, the smirk evident in her tone. The stallion dipped his hips and bumped her muzzle with his penis, feeling it tap her nose. The contact tingled sharply, and he swore he felt another dribble through his spire. "Alright, alright, ah hear what you're sayin'." She fell silent after that, save for the wet slicks as she opened her maw and worked to sate her own hunger.

Doing his best to ignore the tongue swiping along his tip - that amazing sliding wetness, with just enough roughness and pressure to send a trembling thrill through his pillar - the stallion wormed his head between the orange thighs blocking him from his goal. The muscle in his sister's legs was sturdy and built-up from years working the farm, and provided an ample, comforting embrace for his cheeks, but they weren't strong enough to stand against his determination, unable to bar him from Applejack's tantalising gulf. His neck worked to push her thighs out of his way, wiggling back and forth as he used his face to push downwards, the air growing thicker with that familiar scent, stronger with every inch he managed to advance.

He felt her, rather than saw her. The wetness against his upper lip was unmistakable, and he naturally sought out the source, his lips kissing the damp fur until he met sodden, tender flesh that he recognised as her entrance. His tongue swept over the matted coat, crudely cleaning the hair of its sour stain, seeking out the promising prize he knew lay in wait between her thighs. He slid and prodded blindly, guiding himself by touch and taste, feeling the texture change from unpalatable strands to juicy, pliant flesh, her nectar the most delectable flavour he could possibly conjour to mind.

Craning his neck further, Mac kissed along the vertical crevice, smooching down as far as he could comfortably reach. His chin brushed against Applejack's slippery petals, and he wormed the tip of his tongue between her netherlips, feeling a shiver run through her as he did so. He didn't care where he touched, so long as there was more of the fare mare's impossibly addictive flavour, more of her secretions to lick and lap and clean. As he wandered around her gate, her scent drifted through his nostrils, filling him with a mixture of hunger and satisfaction, a perfect balance of gratifying his efforts and enticing him to indulge further. The stallion didn't resist, probing with his tongue until he slipped inside, the powerful thighs clasped around his neck squeezing reactively, her taste the only thing stronger than her odour, pervading his senses and melding in a feast more welcoming and filling than any dinner he'd come home to after a hard day of work.

Applejack wasn't idle, if the relatively steady shift over his shaft was anything to go by. His hips moved of their own accord, tempted and drawn by the gentle ensconcement of his pride and its insistent lavishing, constantly swirling and sweeping and brushing across his rigidity, always changing direction and target. As he pressed down, packing more into her mouth, she lay her tongue flat against his surface, feeling and tasting the sheer girth and length he had to offer, and when he pulled back, driven to move, she swiped at every part of him she could reach, as though consumed by a desperate panic that he was leaving her. She was never left wanting, but her need to praise his piece spurred his loin's flexes and motivated him to feed her more of his schlong.

A rush of breath over his balls distracted the stallion, and with a resurging bout of strength, his sister rolled them both over, taking advantage of his lapse of focus to position herself atop him. Now in control, she scooted backwards, planting her groin on his face and grinding against his muzzle. Instinctively, Mac opened his maw and lapped hungrily at her valley, the position granting him better access to her sinfully sweet spring. His world was the thick, pervasive aroma of mare, the weight resting on his face, and the coareness of her coat against his muzzle as she rode back and forth. Down below, he was harder than concrete, the suckling and groping stirring a bubbling pleasure in his loins that grew hotter and more volatile with every passing second, his rod buzzing more and more intensely as Applejack sated her hunger with impatient urgency.

Like the mare had previously done, Mac heaved and turned them over onto their sides. Wasting no time, he buried his head between her legs and slurped noisily at her entrance, feeling the pressure against his member increase as he did so. From the feel of it, she was as riled up as he was, both of them basking in the inexplicably delicious source of their respective cravings. They rolled over again, and again, and again, their wrestling altering who was in charge, determining just how thoroughly they could work to sake their thirst. The intensity in his dong was still increasing, and a growing pressure inside him caught his attention, pushing past his immediate attention of his sister's syrupy secretions. His nuts - even as a pair of gentle hands fondled them experimentally - retracted towards his groin, seeming to grow tighter as the pressure built. His johnson swelled, pulsing as the heat and stimulation rose to a new height.

In the span of a few seconds, the pressure spilled over, a tidal wave crashing over his brain and forcing him to close his eyes, grunting as the intensity trippled, overwhelming his thoughts. His hips thrust forwards forcefully, driven by an instinctive need to have his dick buried somewhere snug and wet. His cock throbbed, pulsing in time with the muscles throughout his core, his legs and buttocks tightening and squeezing rhythmically. A wet rush coincided with the pumping, the stallion feeling thick spurts leaving his pipe, each shot sending heavenly feedback through his body, radiating outwards from his groin. Applejack's palm pressed against his abdomen, pushing against the tensed musculature with increasing desperation, until he finally pulled back, shakily retracting his still-pulsing stallionhood.

The blonde's coughing and spluttering registered to Mac through a haze, his face flushed and a pounding in his ears from the rigour of his unexpected reaction. His stomach and thighs still felt taut, as though he'd just undergone an accelerated gym session, and as he raised himself to his knees, he felt them tremble slightly. Not enough to set him off balance, but enough for him to notice. Standing up, he turned his attention to his sister, concern overtaking his rattled elation.

"Are y'okay?" he huffed, his breathing rougher than usual. It had been a workout and a half; maybe he needed to do it more often. Glancing down, he watched as Applejack hacked and coughed, holding a fist to her chest. After several coughs, she wiped her muzzle, then looked up at him.

"Ya coulda warned me!" she croaked, coughing again to clear her throat.

"Ah didn't know what was gonna happen," he defended, wincing at her glare. "Ah still don't know what happened."

"Neither do ah, but ah got a throatful of somethin' thick an' gooey." Watering green eyes peered up at him. "This here stuff. Look." She reached for his pole, wrapping her hand around it and lifting it upwards. He breathed in at the contact, her touch electric, and looked to see what she was showing him, and blinked in surprise. His tip seemed like it had grown moderately, as though it had expanded around the edges and swollen to become less flat, and his hole looked - and felt, now he thought about it, the sensation noticeable through the general frazzled status of his shaft - dilated, with a creamy ooze dribbling from it. That must've been the spurts he felt, and a nervous guilt swept over him as he recounted just how much it felt was being pushed out of him, volley after volley.

"Uh, whoops?" he offered, sheepishly grinning. "My bad?"

"Yeah, ah'll say," she huffed, glaring at him for a second or two longer before extending her tongue and swiping the dribble left behind on the uneven plateau. He gawked, the sight pulling a final squeeze from his shaft, which deposited another drop of the substance onto Applejack's tongue. Pulling her tongue back into her mouth, she swallowed, looking up at him with the same look of disapproval, as though she hadn't just cleaned his mess from him. "Warn me next time, wontcha?"

"Eeyup," he promised, still awestruck by her display of casual and unabashed dedication. Accepting his promise with a nod, she stood up and made her way over to a bucket near one of the beams, one they kept full of water for a variety of purposes. They'd filled it not even a few hours ago, before they headed to bed, before their unexpected midnight awakening. The country mare strode over to it and bent at the waist, dipping her hand into the bucket and scooping palmfuls of cool water to her mouth, swishing it from cheek to cheek and gargling it for a second or two before swallowing. Pulling her pajama top over her head, she slung it over her shoulder like a towel. "Ya want some?"

As she continued to drink, splashing some water over her face while she was there, Mac was taken in by the sight of her. Bent over as she was, the stallion had the perfect view of her ass, and it magnetised his gaze like nothing had before. He'd seen buttocks of all descriptions, and he'd seen mares naked before - he'd bathed with his sister more times than he could count - but this was the first time he'd been unable to look away, his focus centred on the toned globes. Like him, her body had become honed through physical effort, reflecting her work ethic, and this new attraction he felt highlighted to him just how amazing she looked. Her blonde tail nonchalantly kept her genitals covered, somehow making the prospect of gaining access to her even more appealing, like the desire to unwrap a gift on Hearth's Warming Day. He licked his lips, stepping forward, his penis still stalwartly erect.

The orange mare either didn't hear him approach, or didn't care enough to react. It was the decsisive brushing aside of her tail that caught her notice, followed by the firm hands against her buttocks that caused her to react. She let out a soft huff as Mac spread her cheeks, exposing her nethers to the air, and drinking in the beauty of her exposure as greedily as she'd been gulping water seconds prior. His vision passed over her tight butthole, a wrinkle of skin among her coat, and a fleeting curiosity gripped him before he moved on. Her furrow sat just below her untouched anus, sleek and shimmering with juices, the excess of which darkened the fur on her inner thighs. Her outer lips were parted, revealing the slickness of her passage, the flesh inside flushed red.

He'd been inside her before, but now he could see the process, it was mesmerising. His cockhead pushed past the meek protest of her gateway, parting her walls with ease and gliding down her canal, shaping it with his presence. He watched as his tool disappeared into her box, sliding smoothly between her lips as she clung to his cock, spreading her confines to accommodate his size. Like before, she managed to take all of him, their position giving him more reach and her a better angle to fit his length, the stallion observing his entry until his groin connected with hers, blocking his view. Pulling out again, he was welcomed with the emergence of his glistening shaft, coated in her abundant fluids as proof of his dive.

It took several complete sets before the stallion became accustomed to the sight - Applejack grunting at him to do more than just stare - before the stallion gave up his wonder for indulgence, throwing his weight forward and properly plowing his partner, the impact against her rear producing a soft clap and cushioning his collision. Realising he had a lot of leniency in how rough he could be, Mac gripped her waist firmly and thrust away, trying to find a workable pace and strength. It was different, now that he was on his hooves, rather than his knees; his balance wasn't the same, nor was his height, position compared to the mare's, or distance between their bodies. It was as new as anything else he'd tried tonight, but he was determined to get it right, to figure out what he should be doing.

It didn't take long for him to learn, and within a few minutes, he managed to piston rhythmically, falling into a workable speed that had his sister huffing and moaning, his treatment obviously doing as much for her as it was for him. If her silky insides felt good just from touch, then movement upped that to amazing. It lacked the teasing flick of her tongue, or the padded seal of her lips, or the deliberate, clenching grip of her throat, but her loins were hotter and wetter, and the tightness was consistent along all of his pride. It was like a perfect massage, the sort of pressure a professional would apply, except no professional offered a service like this. Of course, his sister had never experienced this before either, making her a novice just like him, and he wondered how much practice she'd need become a professional. The thought cast a ruffle of delight through him, and the stallion delivered a rougher thrust into her, grunting in tandem with the other earth pony.

Applejack gripped the strut with her hands, balancing herself while the muscled labourer pounded her from behind. Her fingers clenched, gripping the wood as his ramming shoved her forward, the shocks translating to bolts of sharp pleasure that rippled up her body. Each crash of his waist against her butt sent it jiggling, the force visible as her spheres flattened momentarily, moving on a delay to the rest of her taut, toned physique. It was a captivating view on its own, heightening the auditory delight of her vocal praises and involuntary babbles, and the more static attractiveness of her mane draped over her lightly muscled back. She looked beautiful in a whole new way; her strength and power not at all diluted from how he knew her, but somehow making her submission more meaningful.

As if picking up on his subconcious thoughts, the orange mare bucked back into the stallion, shoving him out of her and raising herself upright. Spinning around before he grabbed her again, Applejack pressed her body to his, sandwiching his spire between their trim bellies. Her movements - slow twists left and right, rolling his shaft between their toned abdomens - were a stark contrast to her fiery expression. She looked at him ravenously, her face brimming with a fury that lacked vitriol, as though she was frustrated at what she didn't have rather than what he'd been doing. Her hands sought out his shoulders, her upwards stretch adding another direction to her toying, and when she saw him react, she continued, shimmying herself to stimulate his appendage. Mac found himself compelled to join in, complimenting her motions with his opposing As they moved left and right, up and down, her eyes never left his, the two of them almost daring the other to break first.

In spite of the pangs of pleasure she was inflicting on him, his body urging him to stay and let her work him over, it wasn't enough, and he grabbed needily at the smaller pony's rear. His fingers sunk an inch or so into her globes before they met firm muscle, and he groped, squeezing her cheeks possessively and lifting her up. The mare gripped his shoulders more tightly as she was hoisted into the air, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to secure herself, her rump coming to rest on his sturdy trunk. Adjusting his grip, Mac kept her aloft with one hand, his other dipping down to guide his shaft to its desired destination. The angle made it more difficult than their previous , but they persisted, quitting not even a passing thought in their minds. The mare braced her legs tighter and used her grip to push herself up, squeezing her brother's waist as she tried to match her position to the bluntness of his shaft.

The second they were aligned, the blonde mare let herself slide down, pulling the two of them together with a tug of her calves against his back and sinking onto his length in a single deft drop. The plat of their contact broke the seal on their held breath, and the two of them let out a soft groan from the penetration, his girth shaping her walls to its cylindrical form. Glancing down towards their joined genitals, Mac saw a gentle bulge interrupting the normally flat plain of Applejack's tummy. Grasping her ass in his hands to support her, Mac lifted the mare up a little, watching in awe as the bulge receded in time with the withdrawal of his dick, and re-emereged as he let her back down. It was one thing to feel himself inside another pony, but to see just how far he reached was something else entirely. He remained transfixed, lifting the mare up and down on his pride, watching her belly bulge each time from his repeated insertion.

An orange hand swept up to the point where Applejack's midriff deformed over and over, blocking Mac's view of the magnificent sight. The stallion looked up at his sister with a twinge of disappointment, her expression taken over by curious enjoyment. He could just about feel her palm pressing down on him, the pressure apparent even if he couldn't actually feel the physical contact with her skin. The demonstration of his significance made him even more determined, and he put more effort into lifting her, thrusting her up and letting gravity pull her down, bouncing her on his staff. The familiar feeling of gliding through her slick tunnel returned, the speed stimulating his rigidity just as his impulsive hammering had before.

Letting the mare drop onto him at the apex of his lift began to grow stale, the fall and its resulting buzz lessening into a tingle that didn't carry the same reward for his actions. Mac shifted his right hand to Applejack's waist, the small change in grip not affecting his ability to her throw her around at will, and yanked her down as she reached the peak of his lift. The impact of their groins against one another was harder, a whap resounding just before they grunted, the sound spurring him to repeat the action. He lifted her up, pulled her down, let her clap against his body, and used the bounce to toss her back up. Their huffs and groans grew in sync, their holds tightening as the slamming became more frantic and their pleasure heightened.

The legs around his waist clamped harder and firmer, becoming vice-tight while her fingers dug sharply at his skin. She leaned closer and closer into him, her breasts flattening as she pressed them against his chest, her breath billowing in scorching flurries across his neck. It was like his heavy pounding was winding her up like a clock, her body tensing as he powered more and more energy into her, until she she reached her limit and clinched him from every angle; her fingers, legs, marehood, arms. She shuddered in his grasp, holding him tight and squeezing him furiously, her voice breaking as she cried out, suttering as the tension snapped inside her, lashing her body with spasms. He held her close, his dick docked in her convulsing confines.

Her release lasted several long seconds, and her recovery double that, and for all of it Mac stood stalwartly still, holding his sister close and keeping her safe and comfortable. When her breathing steadied itself and she lifted her head, he smiled down at her, already anticipating more boisterous play.

He didn't expect her to kiss him.

Her advances were moderate and smooth, her lips linking with his and her tongue sailing along the tops of his teeth. He was slow to react, shocked by her forwardness, and didn't make any effort to stop the startling intrusion. Her organ was cool from the water she'd drank, and she tasted clean and fresh, delicious in its purity and neutrality. He tepidly touched his tongue with hers, following her lead before she pulled back.

"Should we have done that?" he asked. "Is this goin' too far? What we've done already is one thing, but-"

"Shut up," she grumbled. "Just shut up, Mac. Ah'm gonna kiss ya if ah want, and ah want to. It all fits together. Ah can feel it." A palm planed up his neck to his cheek. "Ah'm gonna kiss ya, and you're gonna continue doin' what you were doin'."

"Ah don't know if ah can do that while you're kissin' me," he informed her, aware of their height difference, even - or especially - with him elevating her.

"Just angle ya hips."

"Ah don't know if-"

"Big MacIntosh, find a way or so help me," the blonde mare chided. "Churn my butter! Grind your mortar in my pestle! Knock my orchard like it's bucking season, just-!"

Her barked demands spoke to his bubbling interest, adding heat until it spilled over and took control. He grappled her lips with his, aggressively instigating a kiss while he walked them towards the edge of the barn. A hefty thump and a jolt informed him that he'd reached it, the rattle it produced irrelevant to him. Applejack grunted, but didn't give any complaint to him having slammed her into the wall. It looked as though she was too consumed by her hunger to care about carelessness.

With his quarry supported partly by the boards behind her, the stallion diverted more of his attention and energy to fulfilling their needs. Instead of bouncing her on his trunk, he thrust up into her, flexing his waist back and forth as he worked out just how to shove himself into the static mare by how each movement felt and how she reacted. At first, it was stiff and jerky, his eratic jabbing failing to achieve much consistency with how deep he reached or which parts of her he connected with, and the lack of progress translated to frustration for the stallion. Trying to visualise where he was in relation to her, he tugged her hips, manipulating her lower half to better receive him and angling himself correspondingly.

The next stroke sank into her fully and smoothly, pulling a grunt of satisfaction from him and a groan from his pleased mare, the vibrations travelling through their kiss. Mac fell into a pattern, letting his body work like a machine while he ensnared Applejack in a passionate embrace, his tongue batting hers and twirling playfully, exploring her mouth without concern or constraint. She toyed with him, giving him as good as she got, but he was more determined, more driven by desire and need that seemed to draw from a deep well inside him.

He acclerated his pace gradually, focusing on maintaining his rhythm and keeping his strokes measured and even before speeding up. Each plunge stuffed her full, enabling him to revel in the supple swadling of her interior, the increasing swiftness at which he returned into her making up for the reduction of time he spent inside her. Her walls welcomed him back each time, clinging imploringly with each exit he made, his rod kissed and caressed from every which way. With her back to the wall, she didn't have anywhere to move, and her body took the full brunt of his increasingly heavy pounding.

The mare's tongue faltered, her kiss becoming more sloppy as she tried to make up for her failing dexterity with enthusiasm, before even that became too much for her to manage. Her lips pressed against his firmly one last time before she broke the kiss to allow herself to breathe more easily, and immediately her muffled moans became yelps and whoops, providing a grand concert for anypony who was inside or near the barn. She didn't care anymore, he knew, because he didn't care anymore. He was too taken in by the noises she made, how he was making her feel too intense for her to be able to suppress her exclamations, and how perfectly she fit his turgidity.

His hips rolled in mechanical, implacable rotations, heavy and hard against her groin, each strike sending another ripple through her voice. Glancing down towards her stomach, the farmer observed as his repeated hammering rose her tummy just below her ribcage, the bump less pronounced than it had been when she'd been leaning back and he'd been putting more pressure against her levee, but still a visible swell. As slight as it was, it was still envigorating, and he pumped into her with a renewed hunger, the distending of her midriff from his unceasing pounding fueling his satisfaction and his drive. Just as she'd demanded from him, he churned her passage with a harsh vigour, looking for the bulge each time that signified he'd met his goal.

Applejack's peak rolled over her in a swift wave, her body curling into his as it had before, and she screamed out his name, shouting whatever words were available when she needed to let out another wail. Her entrance pinched at his shaft, but he ignored it, looking the blonde beauty in the eyes as she quivered and quaked, nodding as she huffed and dug her fingers into his shoulder and scrached at his back; she didn't want him to stop. She wanted him to buck her like she was a ripe apple tree, until she had nothing left to spill. He was more than happy to oblige, planting a hand flat against the wooden plank next to her head and grunting as he fought through her constrictive vaginal clutch.

Mac watched her freckled face throughout their bout, noting her expressions and the ways her visage morphed from one set to another; overwhelmed, nirvanic, expectant, overjoyed. He watched as her eyes stayed closed and her mouth parted so she could huff out regular breathy whines and whimpers. He watched as she bit her lip and struggled to constrain her throaty grunts and growls, her eyes screwed up tightly. He watched as her gorgeous green gaze met his, her eyelids closed halfway and her lips just barely parted, the rush of breath on his chin and the rapid guttral groans betraying her feelings as she took his package stoically.

She fell into the throes of her body-wracking shock again, crying out as she was subjected to the inescapable jolts and crashing intensity. She kissed him desperately, failing to properly co-ordinated her movements and instead pecking at his cheek and chin. He continued to pound her, taking her unspoken request to heart. She muttered hoarsely in his ear, beggining him to send her to that unbeatable high yet again, pleading with him to batter her box, to drill her mercillessly. He listened, his mouth seeking out hers so they could kiss again, lips brushing crudely against one another's, until their teeth bumped, and they winced, pulling back.

Applejack peaked again and again, her reaction always visceral and loud, even as her voice became coarse with the amount she was using it, and every time she'd recovered, she was more tired, her energy slightly more sapped. Mac was in the same position, feeling his bar glowing from use. His muscles were taut from holding both of their weight, as well as the cycling motions that were bringing both of them the astounding level of pleasure they were experiencing. He recognised the rising tide - it was the same gradual swell that he'd felt before, gurgling faintly deep in his core, but rapidly rising, and deceptively fast, too. His tip was sensitive, each light brush against the flat causing his entire pole to pulse and flex. Between his legs, the familiar ache that wasn't quite an ache was growing, a tension that urged him to keep going, to release whatever load he was carrying. His breathing transitioned from shallow gulps to throaty grunts, a pressure winding in his core that just kept spooling, until-

The release was like an eruption. His apples pulled towards him, and his pipe pulsed and swelled, squeezing powerfully as the roaring rush swept through his body and crashed over his mind. He pushed against the orange mare hard, shoving her against the barn wall, his body flat against hers, sheathed as deep as he could manage inside her. It didn't feel like he was deep enough, his body reflexively jerking against her crotch as he shook and writhed, words and noises indistinguishable from his perspective. Mac felt the surge hasten through him, barreling along his tube and ejecting forcefully from his end. The first jet was thick and plentiful, the strain of pushing its volume climbing down his glutes and up to his abs, followed by an abrupt and fleeting break before the next onslaught of tension.

The burgeoning throb squeezed out the next steaming gush, the spurt rocketing from his member to splatter against the farm mare's insides and paint her chamber in its pearly hue. Convulsions rolled over him like a wave, reverberating from one end of his body to the other, his muscles clenching as the sensation passed through them. Cream poured from his dong in intermittent bursts, a stream of what felt like pints of his essence flowing forth to flood the orange mare in his arms, his supply seeming endless. Through the sparkling fog that inhibited his senses, he could feel his sister's leg twitching against his waist, jerking in time to the wet splashes of his deposits, pooling in her depths to fill what little space his rod wasn't already filling. He could scarcely believe he had this much to give as he pumped a lifetime of unused syrup into her, the mare readily accepting his gift.

The swirl battering his mind began to slow, and, realising how wobbly his legs were, the stallion backpeddeled towards a bale of hay, letting himself slump backwards onto it as soon as his calves made contact. Sandwiched between the dry prickle of the hay at his back and the supple weight of another pony on his torso, Mac relaxed, the tumultuousness receding and leaving him out of breath and damp with sweat. It felt good. It felt right. Latent tingles ran through his muscles, and the most rigid part of him pulsed again, still held in the most tender part of her. He considered getting up to grab a cider - a suitable end to whatever workout they'd just done - but his sister's embrace set his mind against that. Wrapping his arms around her more securely, he held her against him.

"That was pretty good," she said, her voice gritty next to his ear.

"Eeyup," he agreed, squeezing her shoulder affectionately.

"Ah reckon we should do it again sometime."

"Eeyup." Silence followed, filled only by their deep breathing and the curious clucking of the chickens. It was a peaceful rest from their previous activity, their chests moving with one another, their hearts beating in tandem, a slow dance the both of them could enjoy in tranquility.

Applejack began grinding against him, slowly swiveling her hips. Mac didn't stop her, letting the country mare tease his pecker.

"Ah ain't tired."

"Enope." Already, he could feel the return of his drive, the brief pause from their fierce jostling recuperating his want and his ability. He didn't know if he'd ever grow tired of this new exercise, mentally or physically. At least, not for long.

"Ah fancy a ride."

"Eeyup." He felt a smile tug at the corner of his muzzle as she raised herself up, seperating their matted coats, and looked down at him with a self-assured confidence he knew all too well. "Giddy up."