Until Next Year

A year had passed and they hadn’t seen each since the last Summer. Each was a little more sexually mature than they had been the last year, but were otherwise aside from their changing hormones no less foalish or eccentric than they had been before.

In truth they hadn’t thought about each other all that much during the long year, not until the week coming up to their meeting. He has of course indulged in his nostalgic for the place which was irreversibly tied up with her, and he had occasionally looked through her Ponybook page for more revealing pictures of her that he had guiltily pleasured himself to or simply fantasised about, but otherwise their meeting was very briefly but intensely anticipated solely during that last week.

The first thing he had noticed about her was the woman she had grown into, which he had had strong hints of before, but now as she approached 18 herself more fully realised.

Her breasts had gotten a little bigger and she had switched completely out of filly’s clothes into those of a mare. That being said what she wore was shy by no means. She more often than not wore skimpy ripped denim shorts that showed her legs, full thighs, and quite a bit of her generous and supple looking little ass from the right angle. A simple shirt tank top that revealed her cleavage and some of her bra alongside sports shoes making up the rest of her wardrobe.

It was hard to not allow some of those more innocent if sensually tinged feelings of the last year to become a little more explicit.

Like before he had shown her much of the same romantic gestures and courtesies of the previous Summer. He would lean ever so slightly into her or linger by her side as they walked, gently brushing up against her body.

The one thing that disturbed him however, and worse yet got those same intense electric feelings from before going like a freight train was that she no longer compared ignored his little gestures.

At first he had leaned into her and he could swear that she leaned back. This continued until their contact while very slight lingered for at first a second or two, before going into a good few seconds, then a minute, before they might sit there, especially if they were alone, for several long minutes, the skin of their arms and tiny little hairs simply lingering against one another in complete silence.

It wasn’t long after that he noticed that she seemed to walk a lot closer and be a lot more familiar with him than she usually would. As they walked sometimes even their hands grazed each other. And in her tomboy manner she would try and insist on paying with his bus tickets and hold doors open for him, which they very playfully but silently fought over.

At some point she had also turned their conversation towards sex. She’d tease him by calling him gay and try to get similar reactions out of him by bringing up all sorts of other little teases and points of sexual talk, some more explicit than others. This conversation never turned towards her, and she never used her body to tease him, but there was definitely a certain tension.