Author's Note

This is a pure "Anon" story. It means you can download text, and do a case-sensitive search to replace Anon with any name you like. It never mentions what skin color he has or how he looks. It follows the original sentiment that Anon has no specific race, culture, or nationality. Hence it's "Anon In Equestria" and not "Human in Equestria".

1: A lesson he will remember. [The actual stuff(ing)]

You are lying on your bed, in your room, in a tree-castle.

You are Anon the human, in the land of Equestria, and life is pretty soft. You eat, sleep and read, when not chatting with Twilight, Spike and various visitors.

You recognize that knock on your door. It’s Twilight.

“Greetings Anon!” she happily exclaims.

“Hello princess.”

Her frisky gait is unusually dapper as she prances inside. She’s obviously in a good mood.

“I wanted to teach you a little about old Equestrian customs and show you this cultural saddle.”

She moves around in a circle, showing the saddle she wears from all sides, before she comes to halt at the end of your bed.

She widens her stance in her hind-legs. Lowering her back a little in the process. She presses her front hooves together, and lets them slide forth. As her front legs moves away her chest dips below her hindquarters, accentuating her rump.

A smile is on her face, nose up in the air, slightly closed eyes. She proudly displays her cocky confidence. It’s Twilight lecture time.

She’s in no hurry as she takes a deep breath and stretches a bit. This is no ordinary lecture. Those are planned, announced and performed in a different way.

“This cultural saddle is very old, but it has an important role in communicating your wishes to others.” she states as a matter of fact.

“The cultural saddles have a different design from saddles used for aesthetic purpose.”

The saddle is clasped tight around her barrel. Similar to how you wear your belt, but she currently has no clothes or bags for her saddle to stabilize. She wears nothing except the saddle.

“Ordinary saddles are similar to a garment and can be a fashion statement, but without specific meaning. It’s important to know the difference between saddles, to avoid saying awkward things in public. You do have a knack for saying inappropriate things.” she adds with a giggle.

Twilight in her lewd position starts wagging her behind from side to side. Showing off her saddle, and the posterior right behind it.

“Unlike a normal garment the saddle sits very tight. It’s not supposed to come off easily, even if you roll around or somepony is pushing and pulling you.”

She acts as if it’s a Twilight lecture. But she lacks the diagrams and charts to make it believable. Nor did she bring any books about the subject.

You rise from your bed and walk close to her.

“Cultural saddles have many different colors and designs, and they all symbolize different things.”

She talks with a steady voice, to keep her message clear.

You stand close, going down on one knee, to take a real close look at the saddle. This unexpected gesture from her bipedal guest, who never got out of bed unless he had a good reason, surprises her.

She tense up a little, and her voice loses a bit of its usual poise, as she continues.

“Saddles... many different designs... they all mean different things.”

A quick break follows before she assumes her regular lecture voice.

“They played an important role in old Equestrian culture for finding a mate.”

You fondle the saddle to feel its smoothness. You press in a finger between the saddle and Twilight to check how tight she fastened it. Tracing its belt around her barrel.

It was rare for Twilight to stop talking during a lesson. Unless you had a question she would happily tell you everything you wanted to know, and much, much more.

Now she suddenly takes a brief pause as you inspect her gear. She tries to compose herself before she continues.

“Ahem, as you can see, this saddle has a darker color. If you see somepony wearing a cultural saddle in Ponyville, the cultural base is often white or yellow, sometimes orange.”

Still holding on to her saddle you lean in closely. Pushing your nose into her mane.

You had noticed it as you came close, but you want to confirm it. Twilight was using perfume, spreading a scent of spring flowers from her mane.

That was an odd thing for her to use. You didn’t think she needed perfume, and neither did she.

“You smell nice.” you say softly, with your nose buried in her mane.

“Th-thank you... A-about saddles, yes, saddles... light colors invited ponies to talk about matters related to... procreation...”

Her voice caught a fragile note to it. It was not her lecture voice.

“Certain designs of white saddles... show you’re open to advice.”

“Additional patterns and ornaments would state if you needed advice, were willing to give advice, or just chat about such matters in general... and if you wanted to talk to a mare or a stallion...”

She was still holding her fore hooves far out, and her hind legs spread wide, but it no longer seemed like she was doing it on purpose. It was as if she forgot about her pose.

Your left hand starts to pat her neck, moving gently up and down along her throat. You notice her tail, twitching ever so slightly, rises a little as her body responds to your touch.

“Saddles are an important part of Equestrian culture... still used to this day... not very common. It’s considered old-fashioned...” she softly trails off into silence.

“Go on.” you tell her while letting your right hand move along her spine between her tail and saddle.

As you start scratching the area close to the dock, her raised tail rises even more, and shifts a little to the side.

You look at Twilight, wondering if she’s aware of how she looks. Her gaze is locked forward and her breath is shallow.

“Saddles... important... for the Equestrian culture. Like this saddle for example.”

She takes a deep breath, “It meant... you were looking for a rider...”

“It means that you are ready to receive.” you interrupt her.

“Y-yes... w-w-wait, what?”

“The books I’ve read, they literally say: ready to receive.”

“T-the b-books?” she stutters.

“Yes Twilight. You have several books about cultural saddles.” you say while your fingers scratch around her tail and down along her flank.

You caress her cutie mark with your fingers, gently rubbing the soft fur on her flank.

“You read my books?” she whispers in a faint voice.

“I’ve read several of your books. Not only those you recommend, or force me to read, but others that I find interesting to leaf through when I’m alone.”

“I see...” she says after being silent for a few seconds. Still frozen in her awkward pose.

You lean close to her ear; it twitches a little as you softly ask, “So, tell me more about saddles. When was the last time you saw one used.”

“I never used one!” she quickly responds.

“I know that princess. So tell me when you saw one being used.”

“Applejack used one like this... I saw that... it was actually this saddle.”

“Go on.” you say, while you put your left hand under her chest to steady her front, as your right hand strokes the inside of her hind-legs and thighs.

“She had Big Mac promenade her through Ponyville.”

“As a chaperon.” you add.

“Y-y-yes...”

“To help her chose a suitable rider. To validate or reject those interested, to make sure it’s someone worthy, so she isn’t taken advantage of.”

“P-precisely...”

“Would be horrible to do the promenade and just have ragtag riffraff to choose between,” you say a bit louder as you shift your head back to admire her flanks, “So a chaperon is used as an excuse to lead her home again if no sexy stallion is there to enter.”

Twilight just nods.

“A lot of the time it’s the mom or a marefriend who follows. Guess Big Mac felt protective of his sister?”

“I... I guess you could say that...” Twilight blurts out as your right hand moves on to feel her sensitive little teats between her hind legs.

“So tell me more.”

“Big Mac that day was different... he scowled and sneered towards all stallions who dared to get close.”

“Then as they approached the glade, he led Applejack over the mating table, tightened her bridle to the pole and decided to mount her himself.”

“And you saw it?”

“Yes... I saw all of it,” her voice quivered from your touch, “AJ was hoping for a shy stallion to approach her. A stallion who had felt intimidated by her advances. She was hoping this display, together with her earlier flirting, would give him courage.”

Twilight gasped as your fingers tickled her, all the way from her tail to her teats. It was fun. She was so ticklish. This was the first time you tickled her without her kicking or yelling at you.

“She was furious at her brother for weeks after that. She hasn’t done the promenade again.” Twilight gasped.

“That would explain why the books refer to the escort as being a mare.” you say with a grin she can’t see, as she stares into the wall.

“B-but it can be males too!” Twilight quickly adds.

“So you mean I could escort you? Take you out for a promenade, to see if we can find someone worthy?”

Twilight doesn’t say anything. She neither nods nor shakes her head, just keeps staring straight ahead. She can feel your fingers all over her body, but she doesn’t look around to keep track of your hands.

You let go of her behind, shift your body around and lean towards her face; your nose pressing against hers.

It snaps her out of her stupor, and she pulls in her front legs. She composes herself in a more upright position, but her hind legs remains wide apart.

She stares back at you with those big purple eyes. Her nervous expression almost looks like fear.

“S-saddles... are an important part of Equestrian culture...” she stammers, while looking at your face, so close to hers.

You close the last few inches and let your breath tickle into her nostrils.

She gasps and you seize the opportunity - giving her a deep kiss. Letting your lips seal her lips before caressing her tongue with your own.

Now her breathing accelerates rapidly and in the corner of your eye you notice her tail is fully flagged and draped to the side. You doubt she’s aware of it.

Your beloved little egghead has a tendency to forget everything else when she started a lecture, and it seems she was still intent that there was a lesson to be learned.

But maybe Twilight isn’t the teacher for today’s lesson. And maybe you’re not the student. Perhaps you could teach Twilight a thing or two. You move back to her side, and wrap your arms around her, to lift her up.

She’s lighter than she looks. It’s easy to carry her to your bed.

“So what happens when a rider has been selected?” you ask her.

She doesn’t answer as you place her standing up on your bed.

You move to stand on your knees behind her. You seize her posterior, and press it towards your body, feeling her moistness on your bare stomach.

She doesn’t interrupt you, as you grab her hind ankles and pull them to each side. The soft mattress leaves her with reduced balance, feeling vulnerable. Her quick heated breath is the only sound she makes.

“So what will the selected rider do to the mare?” you ask again.

“I d-don’t know... I only read... and listened to what some said...” her voice shallow and frail.

With her behind still pushed towards your stomach, your arms reach forward and tuck in her front legs, so she kneels down. It makes her primed and ready for what you had in mind.

“So you read about it? Please, explain to me what the books said.”

“T-the s-stallion... b-breeds the mare...”

“Interesting. Please explain in detail.” you say, as you let your hand rub all over her posterior, from dock to hoof.

Twilight was silent and the only thing that was heard was her rapid breathing.

Your hands kept working the entire time, and two fingers decided to push inside her slippery entrance.

She was hot, very hot. She was also tight, and it seemed the tunnel of skin had folds that never had been torn and stretched.

Your curiosity was mostly focused on your fingers, but you still ask:

“So, how do you breed a mare?”

Twilight’s heavy panting was the only answer.

She was quivering in your hands until she finally answered, “I... I forgot...”

“Perhaps we should see if I can remember?”

Twilight’s head, now resting on your bed, gives you a quick little nod.

You can’t help smiling at this unusual behavior before another question pops into your mind.

“Why did you dress up in a saddle? Did you know I had read your saddle-books?”

“I asked Princess Luna, The Dreamwalker... I- I wanted to know... what makes your species aroused...”

If Luna had peeked at your wet dreams, it would explain a lot. You believed her double entendres was your dirty mind’s vivid imagination, but maybe not. Moonbutt surely had more knowledge about you, than you had about her.

“I... I said... I wanted to study how you looked when aroused... so she suggested the saddle.” Twilight puffs out between clenched jaws.

“For science!” she suddenly yells out. “It’s all for science!” she adds with panic in her voice and pleading eyes.

“Yes Twilight, it’s all for science.” you calmly reply.

“You know I studied every sultry book you have on cultural saddles, because I want to become a scientist.” you add while your hands keeps exploring her belly and behind.

Your fingers probing, pushing and now rubbing various areas around her labia and inside her, to test her response.

Twilight’s gasps and moans, in between her heavy breathing. She closes her eyes and pushes her head down into one of your pillows.

“Liar!” she says with a muffled voice into your pillow. “You’re no scientist.”

“Oh yes I am. It’s just that I don’t study math, geography, botany, chemistry, geology, and all those topics you claim are so important to know.” you gently reply.

You grab hold of her ass with both hands and lean forward to let your body rest on top of her, getting your face close to her head, as you whisper into her ear:

“I study social issues, like what type of coitus a stallion needs to perform, for a purple mare to orgasm.”

Your hot voice causes Twilight to shiver in your grasp, before you pull back and assume your previous position.

“I think we need to study the ramifications of cultural saddles a lot. I’ve read all the books, but I need practical studies.”

You see Twilight biting a pillow. Not in the mood to talk.

“And since I’ve read all your books, I think I’m qualified to be your chaperon.”

With your body pushed against Twilight’s behind you untie your belt and prepare to pull down your pants.

You keep your body pushed against hers as you pull down your trousers, so she can feel how they slide down between you.

“But I must warn you, I can be very protective about those I love, and it’s unlikely I will find a suitable suitor. So I will probably end up doing all the riding by myself, just like Big Mac.”

You let your hand once more prepare her opening. Her tail has been draped to the side the entire time, but you want to make a point.

You move your fingers along the dock to grab all of her tail in your fist, firmly lifting it up before pulling it over her cute little rump. Just to let her know you are preparing her properly.

“I... I, would like that very much... please...” Twilight whimpers softly with her head in your pillow.

“You would like what?” you ask while you let your throbbing cock glide up and down her winking vagina.

“F-for you to promenade me... around Ponyville... and lead me to the Glade of Passion. And make sure I’m mated, so I don’t have to walk home empty and in shame.”

You start to push yourself a little bit inside. Feeling her canal switch between straining and relaxing, as if unsure how it shall treat the intruder.

You force yourself a bit further inside, causing a slight tearing, before it gets really tight.

Twilight whimpers and her wings go rigid, but you know the next push will hurt even more.

You suspect Twilight read about it in some book, as she is anxiously biting one of your pillows, preparing herself for the inevitable.

You can feel her body shiver between your hands. You can choose between ripping the band-aid fast, or do it little by little. You decide to wait a little.

“You know as a princess, you represent all of Equestria, and not just Ponyville.”

“I bet lots of ponies would like to watch a princess perform the traditional old customs. When was the last time a princess did it?”

You perform some pelvic movements from side to side to tickle her sensitive entrance, and rub your groin against her clitoral hood.

A muffled response from Twilight gives you the answer you suspected. It has never happened.

“I need to promenade you not just in Ponyville, but in other towns and villages too, so they know their stallions are just as important and highly regarded as the stallions of Ponyville.”

Twilight doesn’t answer, but she nods her head, still with your pillow in her mouth.

“And the cities are important too. Manehattan has a huge amount of ponies. For such a large city your saddle would need tassels, for it to be fair.”

“You know what different tassels means?”

Twilight’s panting never slowed down after the initial shallow penetration. If anything it has increased, as you let your hand massage her tickler and the surrounding area.

“Every stallion who receives a tassel during the promenade is invited to mount the mare. To help fill her up and guarantee that she is properly bred.” you say, while Twilight appears busy biting the pillow.

“With you being a beautiful princess, it will be easy to get several stallions to accept a tassel.” Your husky voice emphasize beautiful.

The princess shaking hind legs turns into jelly as her muscles no longer wants to obey her.

You reach out and grab two pillows at the end of the bed. You never withdraw your manhood from her quivering entrance, as you use the pillows to prop up her behind.

“I think four or five tassels would be in order. But I must be first, before all the other stallions, and I also want to be last, to make sure you get a proper finish.” you tease her.

You have one hand tugging at her mane in a firmer grip than any hoof can accomplish. Your other hand uses its fingers to tickle around her entrance, slick and moist fingers almost pinch her sensitive swollen clit as they dig in from its sides.

You feel Twilight’s vagina fill with rippling motions as she cries out into your pillow.

Her entire body is quivering and she’s leaking fluids beneath your manhood.

You realize now is the time, and push yourself all the way inside.

Twilight’s muffled cry takes on an increased intensity as you break through all the resistance her insides can muster.

Her interior is so hot, so tight, and you fill her up completely.

You don’t move. You just savor the moment. Giving you some time to compose yourself.

You don’t know if she’s sobbing or quivering, so you decide to wait for a while.

You hold your pelvis still, so your rigid member doesn’t cause the newly stretched Twilight to suffer.

You keep caressing her cute little rump, giving it a well-deserved massage for taking all of you inside.

Finally you can’t wait anymore and lean forward to whisper in her ear.

“Are you ready for the breeding to begin?”

Twilight nods.

You grab her ass, and press it hard towards you, while your hips start pumping.

She feels so soft against your skin. Her delicious ass yielding to your fingers.

Your member gets tickled by her hot oils, as it goes back and forth, inside the quivering little mare.

You decide to turn up the pace. It’s time to show her just how fast you can churn that butter.

Faster thrusts pushes you all the way inside, then quickly withdraw, just to repeat the penetration.

You feel your body start to sweat. It’s as if the heat from her interior is spreading through your body.

“Who’s a good princess?” you pant in between clenched jaws.

She doesn’t listen. Even her outstretched wings seem to have lost their strength.

You pump her even harder, using your hands to move not just her ass, but her entire body.

You rock her body back and forth over the pillows you used to prop up her ass; to make her feel her whole body is being used.

“Who’s a good princess??” you repeat louder.

Her head tilted to the side she is no longer biting the pillow.

Gasping hard with an open mouth, she’s barely able to turn her head.

She looks quizzically at you from the corner of her eye.

With every thrust, she makes a small high-pitched sound, almost like a mewl or a whimper cut short.

She seems unaware of the slightly whistling sound her heavy breathing causes, together with every pant.

“You are!” you finally exclaim. In her current state she wasn’t able to figure it out.

Twilight smiles.

“Yes, you are!!” you say as you feel her interior muscles spasm, causing ripples back and forth in her love canal.

She’s so fucking cute; you can’t hold it in anymore.

You shove it in, and flood her with all you got.

. . .