Twilight Likes Weird Things
Twilight Likes Weird Things
Look, I love Twilight. I really, really do. Don’t get me wrong.
She’s a great marefriend—hay, she’s a great friend-friend. She’s always there when I crash to say, “Rainbow, are you okay?” and she’s usually up for watching me. I mean, she even helped me plan out my training regimen for Wonderbolt trials. She’s a great marefriend. She’s everything you could want in an awesome filly: she’s loving, she’s forgiving, and she’s endowed with magnificent legs.
There’s also the matter of her ability to do math well enough to do my taxes, but I consider that to be more of a plus of just our friendship. I mean, what’s some math between friends?
So yeah, I love Twilight. But I’m gonna be honest with you: Twilight likes really weird things. No, liking books is alright—I read too, y’know. No, I mean like… Twilight likes weird things, if you get my drift. Not kinky things, at least not the kind of kinky you usually think of.
That’s what was on my mind as I looked Twilight over. Well, okay, actually my mind was in three parts: the largest portion of it was beginning to question our sex life while the other two were divided between how fine Twilight’s legs were and, well…sex things. Twilight’s the one for words.
Usually it’s Twilight who’s really in charge. She’s bossy; trust me, it works out for the best.
She’s also loud and talks waaaaay too much.
“Rainbow, come here,” she said in a voice as soft as silk. I love that voice. It is probably the sexiest thing ever this side of anything. It’s almost enough to forgive her hilariously bad excuse for pillow talk.
“Absolutely,” I said in a breathless way. I could feel my wings flare out as my heart pounded in my ears like a drum. See, when she uses that voice it’s hard to remember how weird this is with us. I can almost fool myself into thinking for a moment that she’s just your normal garden variety sex-crazy librarian. Not that she isn’t. Don’t tell her I said that.
So we begin. It’s kind of her thing to tell me what to do. In theory, I don’t mind.
We start more less the same way when she gets weird like this. I started by kissing along the inside of her legs, and she gave a sigh. Normal. I moved up slowly, teasingly, straying ever closer to the object of my search.
“Playing Daring Do?” she giggled, and I smiled. Yes, exactly like that.
Then the weirdness begins.
“Yes… Rainbow! You’re getting better at the r-rising action of this… plot.” I’m serious. She thinks she’s hilarious.
I ignore this, as I usually try to. She continued.,“Up the Freytag pyramid of my LEGS you go! Be my Pony Campbell and show me a hero’s journey... ”
I obliged, as I always do. Twilight’s constant weird commentary aside, the sex really is good. I swear.
I reached her marehood and tested it with a kiss along the folds. She groaned, stroking my mane softly. More weird commentary was due, of course.
“Rainbow, you have a tongue like a poet’s pen,” she murmured. Okay, she could get a pass on that one. That was kind of hot, for Twilight.
I continued. Look, I ain’t gonna narrate this thing lick for lick. I mean, you know how mares do it. All you really need to know is that I’m a cunning linguist and that it was awesome. I’m awesome. Continuing.
So, we’re going along and Twilight is enjoying it. Hay, I’m enjoying it. Her commentary runs on and on. Is commentary even the right word? I don’t even know anymore.
“Oh…Rainbow! Can’t you just TASTE my purple PROSE!”
“Uh, sure.” I do just that. I’m the one who keeps this relationship afloat. Seriously.
“Rainbow, tell me how purple my voluminous quantities of prose are!”
“It’s like Dickens, I promise you.” I have nothing else to say--I really don’t. This is just what happens when it’s Twilight’s night. “Atmosphere of the hobbit pony guy himself.”
“Oh…o-oh! Celestia! You like that three volume epic of mine, don’t you?”
“Look, Twilight, can we just… I don’t know, stop bandyin’ around the bush and do it already?”
“Right after we finish analyzing the importance of the syntax of Trot Bombadil's dialogue. Now diagram me like one of those school fillies’ awful sentences.”
The worst part about it all was that, honestly, it was way hotter than you’d expect. I’m serious. There’s no way to completely ruin this kind of thing. Okay, I take that back—I’m sure somepony could if they really put their minds to it. I’m just saying: sex is sex. Bad sex is still sex.
So I kind of just accepted Twilight’s rambling about the rising action leading to the climax (okay, that one was kind of clever). I move away from her marehood and kiss back up and down her legs for a moment. With Twilight, you had to be a little patient. She didn’t like to be rushed. Me, I’m all in for fast—if it’s good.
“Rainbow… I’m impressed. Your regimen is coming along fine. Your… plot is tightly woven.” She laughed at that. Yes, I’m serious.
“I’ve been revising. I’ve got a good editor.” Ponies do weird crap for love.
She laughed out right and caressed me, her hoof stroking my mane and down my cheek. I smiled up at her. That wasn’t so bad. See? Happy moment, two mares, a bed and some love. Awesome.
Have I ever told you that Twilight ruins moments?
As soon as I went back to work—it’s more like, my art—she was at it again. “Rainbow, go at it! Caress me in iambics, love me in odes! Rage, lust, write to, commend—all in the purlieu of the god of love! Oh, pick my rosebud while ye may!”
Oh my god.
“Tell me you like my character development!” I moved up to her neck to nibble a bit while my hoof stayed busy. I figured if I could keep her in a kiss it would shut her up long enough.
“Oh, Great Ponysby!” She groaned. If I ignored the words, it was actually not all that bad a moan. Really sexy actually—the kind of thing I like. Rainbow Dash the optimist, that’s me.
“Canterlot Lost!” ha! :3
But you’d think she’d be calling out like, I don’t know, my name. “Rainbow Dash! Rainbow!” You know, like that. Only like, in Twilight’s voice and kind of like, impassioned or something.
“H-how is my dialogue?”
“Uh… I mean, it could be worse. You’re better than Hoofcraft.”
“Thank Luna,” she said between moans. “Oh be honest, keep going!”
You know what? At that point, I just… went along with it. Why not? Twilight’s weird. I think it’s communicable. Oh goddesses, I hope it’s not actually communicable. Do unicorns even have, like magical diseases like that? I don’t think I’ve ever thought about that. That’s really creepy. Oh, sorry.
“I mean, these…characters of yours.” I was improvising now, moving my hoof faster. “They’re kind of flat. I mean, they’re alright. The purple one is cute and the… colorful one is pretty awesome. But you could do so much more.”
“Oh, you’re so... referential—oh! Meta, even. I never figured you for the m-metafictional type!”
“I’m not even sure I know what means,” I said honestly, and shut her up with a kiss. Finally.
The silence was welcome, it really was. I mean, she was almost there and I hadn’t let myself be and we were almost there. Just a minute and Twilight wouldn’t… well. She got free, regardless. I tried. I really did. I was so glad that Spike was far away.
Twilight is loud.
“OH YES BE RASKOLNIKOV IN MY PAWNBROKER’S SHOP RAINBOW DASH ROLL THE UNIVERSE INTO A BALL TOWARDS SOME LAST QUESTION! COMPLETE MY RHYME SCHEME!”
She came, at last, and I just stopped and deadpanned.
“I am so Donne.”
And that’s why I never, ever mention my sex life, Rarity. Ever. Because Twilight likes weird things. Don’t even get me started on the time she wanted to reenact Pride and Prejudice. “Miss Dash,” this and some kinda crap about a mare in possession of singular fortune.
And that’s why I think I’d like to borrow your copy of 50 Shades of Hay. Twilight could use something… current.
