Warning/ Disclaimer: The following chapter contains written depictions of sexual acts between two animated equines, one of whom is under age and the influence of alcoholic substances. Readers must be over the age of 21 with valid I.D. OR possess the capacity to read erotic literature without whining about offensive content.

Having Your Cake And Eating Her Out Too

Written By: Your Antagonist

C: Shot Glass Rum-Antics (Scootaloo’s Private Party With Buzzed Lightweight and his pal “Woody”)

With a long day of work and a flight of stairs finally behind him, Pound stumbled unceremoniously through the door to his room, pouncing upon his bed and ravaging his way between the sheets in the manner that a lion might pounce and ravage an especially weak gazelle. His bed always felt so much more welcoming after a day of baking and tolerating Pumpkin’s grievous shenanigans. Still, for all the comfort the mattress afforded him, he couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of loneliness that so often accompanies a bed of the empty variety.

Before melancholy could set in, he rolled over and found his attention grabbed by a particular framed portrait on the nightstand next his bed. Sitting up, he grabbed the picture and smiled at the immortalization of himself grinning ear to ear with a high-school aged Scootaloo, the pair seemingly not minding the fact that they were soaking wet, covered in leaves, cuts and ace bandages. An especially memorable flying lesson gone wrong that could have gone much worse had he not punched through an entire beaver dam with his curiously powerful hooves. As he remembered, it was from that day on that she started calling him ‘little lead hooves’.

Sighing, he placed the photograph back in its original place and flopped back onto the mattress, his eyes glued to the empty ceiling as memories of Scootaloo played on the surface like a film on canvas. Though his parents would often entice Sweetie Belle into foalsitting himself and Pumpkin when they were younger, he recalled that Scootaloo had had a longstanding impact on his life as well, what with her constantly involving Pound in a good many of her harebrained ‘pegasi only’ misadventures. Despite the countless failures her schemes often afforded the two, it only made the two grow closer together, Scootaloo becoming something of a sister to Pound—or at least more of one than Pumpkin on a good number of occasions.

For a moment, his thoughts defaulted to their reunion only a few hours ago, his cheeks flushing as he recalled just how liberal the older pegasus had been with her affections. She was never especially reserved to begin with, but time had only made her more worldly, more alluring and—

—More fuckable.

His cheeks pinkened as the thought slipped into his stream of consciousness faster than he could censor it. It was the truth to be sure, an inevitability if bluntness was in question. She’d certainly become more open about her advances, the way she’d fawned over him, touched him, the things she said and the way she said them…

He shivered.

Regardless of the fact that she was clearly yanking his chain, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to it than simple teasing. Well, he could hope there was anyway.

He blinked.

In that instant, all he could see behind closed eyes was flash of orange and magenta. Well-toned muscles, high speed curves and challenging, unapproachable eyes, all etching themselves into his thoughts with a vividity. Before this evening, he hadn’t ever actually looked at Scootaloo in a romantic or sexual sense.

He sighed.

In all the years he’d known her before she left to join the Wonderbolts, her tomboyish demeanor had overshadowed any feminine qualities that her younger self may have possessed, if any. Even in the posters of her that hung on his far wall, be they professional or sensual in nature—his eyes darted to a photograph of the orange mare in a flight suit that was just a size too snug… especially around her hips— he’d only ever seen her as his role model, or so he’d convinced himself.

He turned over and groaned.

His thoughts had become a jumbled mess of hormones, emotion and confusion. If he closed his eyes, he could only see erratic flashes of orange and purple, violet bedroom eyes full of desire, and lips curling up into a teasing devilish smile. If he kept his eyes open, he would stare at the wall and be overcome by crippling shame and the realization that he was alone. So very alone and so very lonely.

Just as he was about to succumb to the hollowed sensation of loneliness, a sound from the hallway piqued his ears: hoofsteps on tile. Probably just Pumpkin going to her room or something, he thought, but something wasn’t quite right about the way that the sound was travelling. It was growing louder, drawing closer. Pumpkin’s room was down the hall, and so was the bathroom. The only things on this side of the hallway were more stairs, a closet and his own room.

Pound craned his neck towards his doorway on the chance that he might catch a glance at what was more than likely some lost guest searching for a bathroom or a family member in need of his presence downstairs. He could hear the steps more clearly now, and it became apparent that there was more than one person in the hallway.

The steps stopped just outside of his door. Curiosity at maximum, he contemplated getting up to find out first hoof who it was, but sounds of conversation aroused his inner eavesdropper.

“Hey,” he heard an incredibly soft voice whisper.

“What?” snapped the much blunter voice of an agitated mare.

“Keep your voice down!”

“What?” The blunt voice had practically become a serpent’s hiss.

“Maybe… maybe we should go back…”

“What?” Pound could hear the thump of a frustrated hoofstomp in the hallway. “This was your idea!”

“I know, I know, but—”

“But nothing!” From the dim shadows in the hall, Pound could see the owner of the meeker voice shrink away from the outburst.

“But I’ve got a bad feeling about this—”

“Too bad, you’re the one who talked me into this, so you’re going to get in there and—”

“Hey, hey, hey, what all this?” a third party interjected out of the blue.

Pound—and assumably the original pair in the hallway— rose an eyebrow at this new speaker. Definitely female, though their voice was somewhat raspy and they were slurring their words slightly. Despite the idiosyncrasies in the new party’s tone, Pound had a feeling that he knew exactly who the newcomer was.

“Scootaloo?” One of the hushed voices confirmed his theory.

“What is she doing here?” the shriller of the hushed voices squawked.

“How should I know? Wasn’t Apple Bloom supposed to be keeping an eye on her?”

“I dunno, but if we’re going to get what we came up here for, we’ll need to— wh-what the hay!?” exclaimed a voice that Pound recognized as Silver Spoon’s, though with a little more liveliness than he’d grown accustomed to hearing from her.

Pound was now genuinely curious as to what was going on in the hallway, but he didn’t get up to pursue it. There was a strange appeal to simply envisioning the events unfolding just outside his door.

“So, what brings two fine fillies like yourselves to a secluded place like this? The party’s downstairs,” Scootaloo pointed out.

“Th-That’s none of your business,” Silver Spoon replied indignantly. “Now get your hoof off of my—Nya~♥!”

If he hadn’t been invested before, that erotic moan certainly cemented Pound’s intrigue. He sat up as slowly and quietly as he could on his mattress, not wanting to spook the targets of his eavesdropping. This little debacle in the hallway was getting too good.

“He, he, he, I think I know…” Scootaloo snickered mischievously. Pound could almost imagine the cheshire-cat grin spreading across her lips. “You two just couldn’t wait until the party was over to start fucking like horny little school fillies, could you?”

“Ngh... that’s not why we—”

“Eeep! Sc-Scootaloo!” Sweetie Belle half squeaked, half giggled.

“Well, if that’s the case: you two got room for one more?” Scootaloo continued sleazily.

“What?” Silver Spoon asked, not a trace of amusement to be found in her tone.

“Come on, Spoony: you, me, Sweetie Belle and my good friend vodka here in some random room of this house. What do you say? ♪~It could be fun~♪”

“Absolutely not! Sweetie Belle, tell her.”

“Well…” Sweetie Belle trailed off as though there she were wanting to say more.

“Well?”

“I was just saying that I wouldn’t be against it…”

“That’s the spirit! Open minds and open asses!” Scootaloo cackled.

“Sweetie Belle,” Silver Spoon sighed, “Normally I’d at least consider it, but in case you’ve forgotten, we came up here for a rather specific reason.”

“Oh, right,” said Sweetie Belle.

“And besides that, she’s—”

“You know,” Scootaloo interrupted, “I’ve always wondered what your uptight little flank would taste like, Silver Spoon.”

“What?” Silver Spoon asked.

“What do you say?” Scootaloo continued. “Sweetie eats that sweet pussy of yours out from below while I suck that stick out of your ass… or I could push it in deeper if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“Kya~♥! Sc-Scootaloo, don’t touch me like that!” Sweetie Belle giggled.

There was a split second of shocked silence so tense that Pound could practically feel it from his room. He couldn’t possibly imagine how appalled Silver Spoon must have felt at this moment. In his mind, he saw bright crimson cheeks and teeth grit so hard that she could crack a diamond with dragon-like efficiency.

“That’s...That’s it!” Silver Spoon said with an indignance. “I’ve had enough of this! Sweetie Belle, we are going back downstairs.”

“But—” Sweetie Belle started to protest.

“Now.”

“Aww, come on, don’t be like that, Silver Spoon!” Scootaloo called after the assumably fuming mare. “I don’t have to join in, I could watch! I’m a really quiet masturbator, you won’t even know I’m there!” The only response Scootaloo would receive for her forwardness was the sound of Silver Spoon and Sweetie Belle’s hooves disappearing down the staircase, not so much as a hesitation in their pace to suggest that they even briefly considered her proposition. “Tch, fine. Whatever, walk away. Your loss, I’m a great watcher...” she mumbled before going still and quiet in the hallway.

Pound sat dumbfounded on his bed, unsure of what to make of what he’d heard. He had no idea how one was supposed to go about an instance of this sort, and thus he accepted silence as an appropriate course of action. Fate, however, had other plans for the colt, sending forth a messenger in the form of a modicum of dust mites that flew straight and true into his nostrils, recklessly tickling the sensitive nose hairs as they went. It didn’t take long for Pound’s autonomic response to seek reprieve from the irritation, resulting in a sneeze so loud and powerful that it would drastically alter the course of his destiny.

“Ga-aahh-chooo!”

“Huh? Who’s that?” he heard Scootaloo say. A second later he heard the shuffle of unsteady hoofsteps drawing closer before the familiar face of Scootaloo poked around the door. “Hmm…” She squinted at the colt on the bed as though she were having a hard time placing his face. “Oh.” Her lips curled up into a dopey, if scheming, grin. Where she’d failed with Sweetie Belle and Silver Spoon in the hall, she was certain that she’d more than succeed with Pound. “Heya there, little lead hooves...” She said, slinking around the corner and into his room in the manner that a cat might approach a helpless, unaware bird.

“H-Hey, Scootaloo,” Pound nervously answered back, unsure of what to expect after her escapades in the hallway.

“So, this is where you’ve been this whole time, huh?” Scootaloo’s eyes wandered about Pound’s room, an approving smile spreading across her lips as she took in the messy décor that was stereotypical of a teenaged colt: small mountains of dirty laundry and empty junk food wrappers fought for dominance against hordes of crumpled up magazines, school books, and various articles of junk. Just like home. “Nice pad,” she said.

“Heh, thanks.” Pound sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

She stopped in front of an old band poster that caught her eye. “Deaf Leopard, huh?” she said, nodding approvingly. “You’ve got good taste in music.” The pegasus cocked an eyebrow as her eyes fell on a small section of the wall that was just covered in posters of herself as a fledgling Wonderbolt, each more flattering and immodest than the next. “And decorations apparently,” she said, her attention directed at a parody of a Cloppertone tanning lotion advertisement, in which she was sporting bikini bottoms that had been pulled half off her rump by a mischievous-looking puppy. Her own face in the picture held a look somewhere between embarrassment and excitement.

Meanwhile, Pound watched on in horror as his former mentor gazed at one of his main sources of clopping material, desperately trying to find some way out of his current predicament with a shred of dignity. “Uhhh… that’s umm… I can…”

“Damn, I forgot how sexy I looked in that spread.” Scootaloo leaned in to inspect her own posterior. “That cheeky bastard shooting this didn’t even tell me you can almost see my crotch.”

Pound couldn’t find the strength to pick his jaw up off of the floor. “Y-you don’t mind that I have one of those?”

The orange mare shook her head. “Nah, I’d bet half of Equestria has one of these somewhere in their house.” Scootaloo turned to her former pupil, a playful look on her face. “Besides, I look pretty hot there.” The pegasus turned back to the poster of herself, inspecting her own curves. “Yeah, I’d totally hit that.”

Pound blushed as he listened to the beautiful mare, until a sudden realization came to him. “Hey, Scootaloo, what are you doing up here anyway?”

“Ugh...” the pegasus snorted and shook her head in irritation. “I had to get away from Apple Bloom. I swear, she used to be my go-to party pony before I dropped out of college and joined the Wonderbolts, but now she’s just as bad as her sister with all that ‘drink responsibly’ and ‘this isn’t how a Wonderbolt is supposed to behave’ nonsense. Please, have you seen Colonel Sorren and Rainbow Dash cut loose at a bar?”

“Apple Bloom used to be a party pony? She sure doesn’t seem like the type.”

“Yeah, you should’ve seen her back in the university. That ole’ farm girl could drink a bunch of full grown frat-punks under the table like she was chugging water!” There was a spark in Scootaloo’s eyes as she spoke of days long since past, but it was extinguished as quickly as it had ignited. “But now...” Scootaloo snorted her irritation again before turning away with a huff.

“She just cares about you. You two have been best friends since I was in diapers; she just doesn’t want to see you do something you’ll regret,” Pound advised.

“I know, I know... but she can be pretty overbearing sometimes. It’s just nice to get away every once in a while,” Scootaloo asked and turned back to Pound, her features made somehow more radiant by the circumstance. The pegasus’ mouth was drawn back into a delicate pout—accentuating the fullness of her lips— and her eyes held a look somewhere between melancholy and defiance, captivating Pound with their beauty. “Y’know what I mean?”

Pound swallowed nervously, cursing his surging hormones all the while as he prepared to stammer his response. “Y-Yeah, totally”

“Besides,” Scootaloo unfurled her left wing and pulled out a long, almost shining object, “Do you realize how hard it was to grab this and slip away with her hovering over me the whole time?”

Curious, Pound turned his undivided attention to the object in Scootaloo’s hooves, his eyes growing wide as they passed over it. ‘Stalliongrad’s Finest’ the label read in regal, bold gold letters, though even more outstanding than the brand name was the picture of a scowling-faced, blank-flanked filly elbow dropping the light and life out of a rather large grizzly bear. Stamped neatly on the beaten bear’s ass, in big red letters was a 55.5% alcohol content warning and a disclaimer stating that the beverage was not for use by minors or anyone with a liver not composed of kevlar. Intimidating stuff.

“Pretty bad ass, right?” Scootaloo asked, nudging Pound in the ribs.

“Uh… sure, totally, heh, heh...” Pound rubbed his neck uncomfortably. In all honesty, he had no idea what to say. Seeing as how the only liquor he’d ever ingested was from a glass of spiked punch at a party which was swiftly poured out, his experience with alcohol was negligible at best. Needless to say, he wasn’t entirely sure he was fond of where this whole scenario was headed.

“Say, Pound...”

“Yeah?”

“How old are you again?”

“I’m... sixteen.” Pound answered uncertainly.

Scootaloo flashed an alligator’s grin at the colt, putting him on edge as she readied to proposition him. “So, you’re legally old enough to keep your mouth shut, right?”

Pound rose an eyebrow at the leering mare, uncomfortably clearing his throat before answering. “I… guess?”

Scootaloo’s grin only grew. “Want the first swig?” She offered, wagging the bottle before the colt in the manner that one might tease a dog with an especially desired bone or toy. “♪I won’t tell if you won’t~♪”

Pound suddenly found himself trying to swallow nervously at the proposal, though his throat was suddenly dryer than ash. “Oh, I uh… I shouldn’t, really I shouldn’t,” Pound attempted to decline politely, though little did the colt realize that Scootaloo simply wouldn’t hear any of it.

“What’s the matter, lead hooves?” She asked, again urging the bottle towards the minor. “Don’t tell me that you’re afraid of…” Scootaloo’s words trailed off as she turned the label towards herself, frowning as she read the alcohol percentage of the beverage. “Geez, only fifty five percent alcohol content? This stuff’s practically tapwater.”

“Scootaloo, it’s not that I’m afraid of it, it’s just that... well, I don’t think—”

“Come on,” she urged, “just one little sip.”

“But I—”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” the mare asked, slapping the cork clean from the bottle, where it would land in some random location in the room.

There they were, those infamous last words, chock full of peer pressure and painful memories. He blinked and in all of an instant, he was eight years old again standing on a cloud with a younger, less alluring but just as abrasive incarnation of Scootaloo, albeit she wore a band-aid under her left eye not to conceal a cut but because she’d been convinced that it made her look tougher.

Among all of the ludicrous stunts he’d been put through in his stint as Scootaloo’s hellbound and witless disciple, he recalled this particular event with an unfaltering lack of fondness as he’d only learned to fly mere minutes before this particular excursion. Even now he could almost perfectly recall the sheer terror of being so painfully high up with nothing separating him from the ground aside from air and trust in the razor thin possibility that Scootaloo would catch him if he failed to go airborne at least halfway through the plummet.

As the exposition might suggest, Pound—after some persuasion bordering on the one-sided— shut his eyes and leaped from the safety of the cloud and into the most traumatizing experience of his life with only fear and the rush of wind to accompany him as he met the fast approaching ground below.

Just before impact, Pound forced himself to snap back to reality. He didn’t need to finish the memory. He knew what came next all too well: crying followed by continual coercion into progressively more insane stunts. He couldn’t figure out why, but ever since that moment, he’d never found it within himself to decline the older pegasus’ wishes—partially because she never took ‘no’ for an answer— but as far as he was concerned, that ended today.

“Scootaloo,” Pound said with a voice full of finality and resolve, the boldness in his tone immediately piquing Scootaloo’s interest, causing the older mare to raise an eyebrow. “Look, you’ve gotten me to agree to a lot of dumb things in the past, but this time, I’m not going to just lay down and let you walk all over me. I’m taking a stand and saying: blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah...”

As Pound began to lose himself in the throes of a tirade, Scootaloo found herself rolling her eyes in annoyance, her incredibly finite attention span having exhausted itself in the first word of the first sentence that didn’t directly pertain to her enjoyment of the evening. Apparently a hassle-free good time was too much to ask for.

A scolding from Apple Bloom or Silver Spoon she could understand, even anticipate, but Pound was the last pony she thought would retaliate with a lecture. Normally his timidity would have worn him down to an especially susceptible state, thus allowing peer pressure to handle the rest, but apparently he’d become capable of thinking for himself since she’d seen him last. Still, despite the fact that the colt had taken up verbal arms alongside Silver Spoon and Apple Bloom, there was one glaring difference between Pound and his female counterparts that would prove to be the gender specific achilles’ heel in his resolve, and Scootaloo knew exactly how to exploit it.

She chanced a glance at Pound, who was impressively enough still steadily trying to talk her ear off despite the fact he was obviously being tuned out. Smirking at the colt, she brought the open bottle in her hooves to her lips and drank deeply, taking care to store rather than swallow the mouthful of liquor. Placing the bottle on the floor, she turned her undivided attention to Pound and fluttered her eyelashes suggestively, an action so foreign to the mare’s demeanor as Pound knew it, that he soon found himself stuttering into a fluster.

“...and that’s why I can’t just sit by while you… while you… I mean I can’t…. can’t… uhm… why are you looking at me like that?”

Scootaloo said nothing, instead opting to tilt her head to the side, allowing her spunky magenta mane to spill over her narrowing eyes in a fashion so alluring, Pound couldn’t help trying to swallow the words that had suddenly gotten caught in his throat. Pleased with the colt’s dumbfounded reaction, Scootaloo rested a hoof on Pound’s thigh and began to lean forward, all the while giggling from the throat as she closed in.

Needless to say, the mare’s forwardness had caused Pound to grow hot under the collar, as it were. “Sc-Scootaloo, what are you doing?” he yammered, shrinking away, only to have Scootaloo plant her free hoof on his chest and shove him down on the bed. Without missing a beat, the older pegasus climbed atop her quarry, straddling his hips while keeping him pinned. Before Pound could offer any resistance, she maneuvered with a swiftness, firmly seizing his cheeks before going in for the kill.

It was all that Pound could do to watch Scootaloo’s descent as if time had slowed down, affording him the opportunity to take in every detail of the mare’s presence throughout the encounter. The weight of her sleek frame holding him down, her impatient, excited breathing rivaled only by the thrill-seeking gleam in her eyes, the moist, succulent sheen on her lips against the lighting of the room, her forelocks brushing across his forehead, the scent of her coat, her warmth against his flesh, her sheer radiance, everything about her just seemed to come together in that moment as her lips made contact with his.

A moment passed, affording Pound the opportunity to come to terms with and appreciate this sudden turn of events. Scootaloo’s lips felt magnificent and full against his own, a smug smile from her lips encouraging the colt to release his inhibitions and immerse himself further into the kiss, and immerse himself he did. Curiously, yet cautiously, Pound pressed back against the rash gesture, his enjoyment of the encounter increasing ten-fold.

Needless to say, this didn’t go unnoticed by Scootaloo who, pleased with her little ploy, decided to take it to the next level. She moved the hoof on Pound’s chest to his other cheek, thus granting her more control of the kiss. With a suddenness, she slipped her tongue into the equation, delighting in the surprised look on the colt’s face. Little did he realize that she was only getting started. Pound didn’t get a chance to indulge on the rich flavors of Scootaloo’s tongue brushing against his own as she’d taken the opportunity forged by oral intimacy to swap the mouthful of liquor she’d been storing up until now into her new boy toy’s eager and unwitting mouth.

“Mmmmph!” Pound cried as the harsh fluid emptied into his mouth, setting the back of his throat and taste buds aflame almost immediately as Scootaloo trickled it in. At first, the young colt didn’t quite realize what was being forced into his mouth along with his mentor’s tongue, but it became crystal clear that Scootaloo was pumping the liquor she was holding moments ago into him once the biting fluid began splashing across his own oral appendage.

The young pegasus had never experienced drinking such pure alcohol before, and every taste receptor in his mouth was rebelling against the sting of the powerful vodka coursing through it. Pound wanted desperately to buck and squirm against the unwanted stream of alcohol, but the sensation of Scootaloo’s tongue caressing his own was simply too amazing to resist. The next thing he knew, Scootaloo had changed tactics, sliding her hooves down to his throat, where she’d massage his tender neck muscles until he swallowed, wincing as his esophagus was set aflame by the cleansing sting of the liquor.

“There you go, lead hooves...” Scootaloo purred as she pulled her lips away from the coughing, flush faced colt. “That wasn’t too bad, was it?” the older mare asked, licking her lips as though to savor the lingering taste of alcohol on her new plaything’s lips. Making sure to keep her hips firmly planted on Pound’s, she leaned over to secure the her bottle from the floor, bringing up and knocking it back with no hesitation.

Having been a first time drinker, a mouthful of 110-proof liquor seemed like a chore to swallow for Pound, but in stark contrast Scootaloo worked the bottle like a champ, easily draining the contents with all the efficiency of some sort of vampiric fish. Pound watched on in awe as ounce after ounce of vodka slid into the eager mare’s throat, the bottle going from mostly full to practically empty in a matter of mere seconds.

“Aah...” Scootaloo winced at the overpowering burn the beverage left on her tastebuds. “Damn, that’s pretty strong... kind of wish I’d brought something to chase it with…” she smiled sensually at Pound, tracing her tongue along the curvature of her lips as she slid her hooves down to Pound’s chest. “...but I guess you’ll do in a pinch.”

As Scootaloo brought her lips to Pound’s for a much welcomed second pass, the colt found himself grimacing at the residual flavor—or lack thereof— that came with the gesture. Much as he appreciated his mistress’ advances, the sting of vodka simply wasn’t ringing right with the baker’s pastry oriented palate. To Scootaloo’s disappointment, Pound turned away, breaking the kiss along with the atmosphere.

The older pegasus frowned and sighed; most colts Pound’s age would have been would have been absolutely ecstatic to share drinks with a hot, young mare like her. “Sheesh, what’s up with you, lead-hooves? Am I not sexy enough for you or something?” Scootaloo asked with a playful pout.

“No... no it’s not you, it’s just—”

“—Because in case you weren’t aware, that’s pretty impossible,” she interrupted, ‘as-a-matter-of-factly’ jabbing Pound in the chest as she spoke.

Don’t I know it, Pound thought. “Look, it’s got nothing to do with you, Scootaloo,” he said doing his best to avoid eye contact.

“Then what’s wrong?” she asked, nuzzling her chin into his chest as she patiently awaited an answer.

“Well, honestly I’m just not overly fond of the way alcohol tastes.”

Scootaloo sat up, chuckling, causing Pound to raise an eyebrow. “You think I drink this stuff because I like the way it tastes? Tell you what,” she said brandishing the mostly but not quite empty bottle before Pound. “There’s about a good… two maybe three sips left in this thing. Be a good colt and help me finish the rest of it, and I guarantee you that we’ll have more fun than when I was giving you flight lessons.”

“I don’t know if ‘fun’ is the right word to use when talking about those flying lessons; why don’t you try ‘life-flashing-before-your-eyes terrifying’ and ‘borderline coma inducing’ instead?”

“Hey, terrifying as my lessons may or may not have been—”

“They were.”

“—they still made you the greatest, most bad-flank flier in grade school didn’t they?”

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean—”

“That I’m totally right, totally know what I’m talking about, and totally trustworthy? Because I totally am, totally do, and totally… umm... am.”

“That makes me feel ‘totally’ reassured,” Pound said sarcastically.

“Come on, lead hooves, where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I dunno, why don’t you ask nine-year-old me what he did with it last? I remember him holding it before you shoved him off cloud.”

“Just a teensy tiny bit? ♫~I’ll even help you out~♫”

“Scootaloo…” Pound sighed, a sure sign that all the prodding was undoubtedly wearing him down.

“I promise you, it’ll be worth your while, and if it isn’t, then I’ll make it worth your while... if you catch my drift.”

Pound stroked his chin as he contemplated the offer. “Well I…”

“Would I ever steer you wrong?”

“Yes.”

Scootaloo grinned and rolled her eyes at the almost reflexive response. “Yeah, yeah, yeah… tell you what, lead hooves: I’ll go first, but you’d better finish whatever’s left, got it?”

“No promises,” Pound mumbled as Scootaloo placed the remaining fourth of a bottle to her lips, knocking back a hearty amount of liquor before pulling the bottle away, sporting an expression caught between a grimace and a smile she just couldn’t help.

“Gah, that burns so good…” she gasped, wincing at the taste. With a somewhat relieved smile she presented the bottle to a timid faced Pound. “Your turn lead hooves.”

Using his wings to assist him, Pound managed to sit up some despite the minor—but welcomed— hindrance that Scootaloo’s weight presented him. He hadn’t realized it until he’d sat up, but the world had started moving on it’s own accord, and he felt somewhat light-headed as he went to meet Scootaloo’s gaze; that considerably generous mouthful of liquor she’d shared from earlier was starting to catch up with him.

With unsteady hooves, Pound took the bottle from Scootaloo and brought it to his eye level. He briefly thought of what would happen if any of his family members stormed into his room at this moment. Pumpkin would probably just freeze in the doorway before seeing herself out, his mother would probably break down and cry about where she’d gone wrong with him and how she was raising some immoral sex-fiend, and he had this strange feeling that his dad would simply smile, nod and leave him to his own devices.

He found himself snapped from his thoughts as Scootaloo sought to occupy her hooves by running them along his surprisingly firm midsection and waist, the wanton look on her flushed features conveying a lustful impatience. “Come on, lead hooves, it’s just a teensy, tiny bit. The sooner you drink it…” she bit her lower lip and took Pound’s free hoof with her own and brought it to her flank, encouraging the colt to caress and savor the sensation of her taut, athletic flesh; a reminder of the reward awaiting him at the bottom of the bottle. Needless to say, due to the circumstances, it didn’t take Pound very long to make a rash decision.

Well, here goes nothing, the colt thought, tilting his head back and the bottle up much to Scootaloo’s delight. An instant later, the liquor spilled forth, its trademark burn assaulting his tongue, gums and throat like an overpowering, flavorless flame. Swallowing the vodka on his own accord was a task in itself, but he quickly found that indulging in a hoofful of Scootaloo’s firm, fine backside helped the alcohol go down easier.

“Agh...” Pound grunted as he pulled the now empty bottle from his lips before casting it to the floor. “That stuff tastes terrible...” he groaned, shaking his ever lightening head.

“Well, again, you don’t really drink it for the taste, lead hooves.”

“What do you drink it for then?”

Scootaloo sighed and shook her head at the colt’s impatience. “You’ll see, just give it a minute to catch up with you. In the mean time...” She grabbed her beau’s other hoof and guided it to her other thigh. “Why don’t we pick up where we left off, hm?” she asked, gently stroking Pound’s cheek.

“That... sounds like a wonderful idea,” Pound replied.

“Yeah, I thought you’d like it,” Scootaloo growled, leaning in to seize Pound’s lips with her own. In contrast to their first two encounters, Scootaloo had become notably more assertive and forward with her advances, driving her tongue against his, gently nibbling at his lips as she began to grind her hips against his belly. The mare couldn’t help but giggle as her bottom finally found it within himself to fondle and squeeze her ass, allowing him to set the pace and placement of her grinding. From his position, the colt couldn’t fight the smile creeping upon his lips or the arousal manifesting between his legs.

“Hmm?” Scootaloo curiously hummed as her backside came into contact with something firm and warm. “What’s this, lead hooves?” Scootaloo asked wiggling her rump along his slowly stiffening member with a knowing grin.

“I think you know what it is,” Pound said, his reponse a little more cocky than he’d intended.

“Ooh, do I, now?” the older pegasus asked playfully, unaware that she’d begun to sway her tail back and forth, battering Pound’s thighs.

“I think you know what to do with it, too.” Had Pound been only slightly aware of his surroundings, he’d be absolutely stunned to hear the words coming from his mouth. Normally he’d never have the courage to say anything like this let alone as smoothly as he was saying it, but for some reason he just couldn’t find it within himself to stay his tongue. It was as though his ability to self-censor was slowly slipping away from him; the first onsets of a ‘buzz’, compliments of his alcohol ingestion.

Satisfied with his response, Scootaloo dismounted Pound, choosing to lay on her side next to the colt. “Well, I might know a thing or four…” she began, casually sliding a hoof down Pound’s chest and belly to his thighs, tactfully dancing around the colt’s cock. “I could show you… if you ask nicely.”

“Ask nicely, huh?” With his inhibitions fading but far from forgotten, Pound rested a hoof on Scootaloo’s hip, pulling her closer before leaning in for a kiss. He lingered on Scootaloo’s soft lips for a moment before pulling away, a breathy “Please?” escaping his lips. The colt felt a small sense of pride in his response as he awaited Scootaloo’s reply. Much to his disappointment, all he would receive for his efforts was a stifled snicker from his former mentor. “What’s so funny?” he asked.

“You have no idea how fucking lame that was…”

“Lame?” Pound frowned at Scootaloo’s bluntness. “Pssh, I thought it was cool.”

“...but, it was cute, so I’ll let it slide,” she said, allowing her hoof to glide across Pound’s now throbbing member, eliciting a twitch and a grunt from her beau. Pound sucked in air and winced at the sensation of Scootaloo’s hooves gliding along his sensitive flesh; it never felt this good when he did it himself. He attempted to lift his head up to better view Scootaloo jerking him off, but the mare was quick to coerce him into relaxing as she worked by nipping and kissing at the colt’s neck. She’d also managed to stay a restless leg by wrapping her thighs around it, keeping it in place while she rubbed her marehood along the musculature that had earned her plaything the title of ‘little lead hooves’, though judging from the girth she held in her hoof, it seemed as though she’d need to revise the ‘little’ portion of that nickname.

Despite the skillfully induced pleasure resonating through his cock, Pound could feel his leg growing warm and slick from Scootaloo’s arousal. Curious, Pound slid his hoof down to investigate, silently remarking to himself about how good her firm, well-toned legs felt to the touch as he descended. An instant later, he found his way between the mare’s hindlegs, feeling her shudder and shiver as he ventured closer to the source of the strangely enticing heat emanating from between her thighs. It didn’t take very long for him to run his hooves across her ever dampening marehood, eliciting a powerful, if sudden reaction from his partner as she clamped her knees tightly together, before loosening up.

A moment passed before Scootaloo purred approvingly, nuzzling into Pound’s neck, softly stroking the colt’s side with a wing; a tell-tale sign that the colt should and was very much encouraged to continue. Pound decided to let his curiosity guide him through this strange new development. He ran his hooves along every inch of Scootaloo’s pussy that he could, gauging her responses both physical and vocal. It wasn’t until he brushed across a small, almost negligible bump on her palette that he drew out the most intense reaction from her yet, garnering a squeal for his efforts.

Whatever he’d done with his last pass, had incited a drastic shift in Scootaloo’s behavior. Wrapping her free foreleg and wings around his arm, she’d begun to guide his movements, easing the colt’s touch deeper into herself, past her moist labia and into her absolutely soaking cunt. “Ooooh… you like the way that feels?” she asked. Her dominating, confident tone had grown somewhat shaky and submissive, but there was no denying that she was still setting the pace for this little encounter. Even as Pound drove his hoof deeper into her pussy, she still managed to work his cock like a pro, twisting, stroking and massaging the tender underside of his shaft, wringing out a delicious whimper from his lips every so often.

Amidst the throes of mutual masturbation the pair managed to find each other, Pound’s features a portrait of depraved, debauched curiosity while Scootaloo’s eyes seemed to simply scream for “more”. As if on cue, they leaned in towards one another, tongues making contact before even thinking to bring their lips into the ordeal; the two had become little more than marionnettes pulled along by strings of desire.

“Wow,” Scootaloo panted as she pulled off the colt, seeking reprieve and a more comfortable position; Pound’s hoof on the other hand, stayed exactly where it was. “You’re really getting into this, huh?”

“I will be once you jump back on top and spread those legs,” the colt said, once again surprising Scootaloo. By her count, he hadn’t ingested much more than a glass of vodka, yet personality-wise he’d transformed from his normally timid, uptight self into some smooth-talking stud. Alcohol was funny like that.

“I don’t know if that’s you or the vodka talking,” Scootaloo said, sitting up and throwing her leg back over Pound’s waist, “but let’s just see if you can put your money where your mouth is, hm?”

“What kind of baker would I be if I couldn’t cook up a good time?” Pound asked, cheese dripping off his every word. “Now then, why don’t you stop wasting time and help me get these sweetbreads in the oven. Afterall, it’s bad business to keep the customer waiting too long.” The young shifted his hips slightly, brushing his swelling erection against his voluptuous mentor’s ass. “And if you’re really good, maybe I can see about getting you some extra-special frosting.”

Scootaloo merely smirked down at the colt, finding his sudden burst of assertiveness nothing short of adorable. Still, he had a point. Planting a hoof on Pound’s chest for balance, she brought her hips up and gripped his cock with her free hoof, eagerly lining it up with her wet and waiting entrance. “You ready for this?”

Scootaloo didn’t wait for a response as she slowly began to lower her hips, her pussy kissing the tip of Pound’s penis before engulfing the length, effortlessly taking every inch of dick the colt had to offer. As this was the first time Pound had ever experienced the marvels of penetration, the crushing sensation of her pussy as it simultaneously expanded and contracted to accommodate his throbbing cock, rendered him unable to so much as utter a word. He savored every second of his former mentor’s descent, from the inviting heat pulsing around his cock, to her body’s natural lubricants as they streamed down his shaft.

“Mmmm…” Scootaloo moaned as she brought her descent to a halt. “It’s too thick… can’t take it all at once...” She whined, rubbing herself where they’d joined in coitus. She’d only managed to take him little more than halfway and would have to work the rest in gradually, but then again, that was half the fun. Moving her hooves to either side of Pound’s head, she used her newfound leverage to raise her hips slightly before driving herself even further down on his rod, his virgin whimpers encouraging her to keep going. Her second grind quickly became her third and fourth, each motion bringing new and exciting sensations to both parties as Scootaloo gradually fucked her way to the hilt of his cock, stopping only once she’d managed to fit every inch of Pound that she could.

She took a moment to appreciate the feeling of fullness and warmth his cock afforded her, giggling as it twitched helplessly against the euphoria of her vaginal walls. From her vantage point, Scootaloo watched with delight as Pound quivered and clenched his eyes from the pleasure coursing through his engorged member. She’d been around the block enough times to know a cherry when she popped one, and judging from the adorably pathetic expression on Pound’s face, it was safe to say that she’d plucked herself a ripe one; she just hoped he could take what she was about to dole out. Leaning forward, Scootaloo rolled her hips, her shapely taut ass crashing against Pound’s balls like waves breaking on the shore.

“How is it, huh?” Scootaloo threw herself back especially hard, earning an effeminate moan from her new boy toy. “How’s my pussy feel on your huge dick, huh?”

“F-fuck, it feels so good!” her underaged partner whined so sweetly.

Scootaloo licked her lips and went harder, that is to say hard enough to literally rock his bed a centimeter or so with each pass. It wasn’t often that she had the privilege of dominating a stallion who possessed Pound’s impressive size and girth, and she wanted to see how far she could take it before he decided to stop playing the submissive and take the reigns. Scootaloo had moved Pound’s bed approximately four inches from its original position before she’d find her power trip cut short as Pound somehow found it within himself to take the initiative and wrapped his forelegs around Scootaloo’s lower back, pulling his mistress down for a kiss and some reprieve from her seemingly boundless energy, slowing their encounter drastically.

However, before Scootaloo had enough time to feel disheartened at the loss of sexual momentum, Pound bucked his hips wildly, catching his lady completely off-guard. She hadn’t expected him to take over with such ferocity, and yet as she was recovering from the shock of the first plunge of his stiff member into her moist snatch, Pound was already drawing himself out and thrusting back in like some feral beast in heat. As Pound yet again slid into her dripping pussy, Scootaloo found herself cursing uncontrollably. It was nice to have been the one in control for a moment, but it seemed like Pound had finally gotten the gist of things, which meant Scootaloo could just lie back and enjoy the ravagement of her body.

Or rather she could have had Pound not flipped her face first from her roost to the mattress. Caught somewhere between annoyed and intrigued, she turned around and asked, “And just what the hay do you think you’re doing?”

“Taking the lead. That said…” Pound grabbed Scootaloo’s waist from behind and pulled her in close. From this spooning position, Pound used his thigh to spread Scootaloo’s legs before maneuvering himself into her open slit. He pressed in and felt Scootaloo tense up immediately. With a single pump of his hips, he quickly found that this new position allowed him to thrust even deeper than before.

“♥Mmmf~♥!” Scootaloo whined as Pound stuffed her insides with his rigid dick. Tightening his grip on her hips to keep her steady, he drew back and drove his pelvis forth, keeping Scootaloo in place as he single-mindedly assaulted her insides. Pound grit his teeth and went harder, putting his all and his balls behind every thrust that he threw as though he were trying to fuck through Scootaloo to his bedpost. Lost in the fog of his sex-crazed thoughts, Pound hadn’t noticed that he’d fucked Scootaloo onto her belly until he was hanging off her side trying to drive his cock home.

He scrambled on top of the prone mare and dropped his weight onto her back, keeping her pinned to the bed as he continued to hump the reason out of her. It was an empowering feeling to have taken control from a mare as strong willed as Scootaloo and put her in the world’s most universally submissive position. As he railed her, Pound noticed that all those lovely moans and cries he’d been fucking out of his lady had drastically lowered in volume; Scootaloo had bitten into a corner of a nearby pillow to cope with the constant barrage of dick being thrown into her.

Sensing the first onsets of climax, Scootaloo—panting and flushed in the face— whipped her head back and the pillow to the side as she stuck her ass out even further, giving Pound a much better angle to ram in from. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” She wiggled her hips back against Pound’s firm member, each stroke driving her closer and closer to the edge of euphoria. “Keep going— keep fucking going, I’m gonna cum, oh, Celestia I’m gonna—”

“Scootaloo, where are you!?”

The older pegasus buried her face into the pillow she’d been screaming into and groaned. “Ugh, Apple Bloom...” her mellow had been officially harshed.

Dammit, Pound thought.

“When I find your narrow, orange ass, you’re gonna get it!” Apple Bloom roared from the hallway. “Don’t make me drag you back downstairs!”

Scootaloo put her hooves over her head, trembling from being so close to release and being denied its pleasure. “When is she going to learn that I grew up, just like she did; I don’t need her to watch me like a hawk anymore!”

“She seems really upset about you sneaking away from her.” said Pound.

“Well…. I might have a history of reckless behavior at parties and social gatherings and she might have to keep me in check from time to time.”

“‘Might’, huh? I dunno, giving alcohol to a teenager before you fuck him seems pretty reckless to me...”

Scootaloo flashed the wisecracking colt a dirty look. “Did you know you’re much cuter when you’re quiet?”

“Well, what do you suggest we do about her then?”

“Guh…” Scootaloo rubbed her throbbing temples as the alcohol in her system crossed paths with the stress of the situation, the combination affecting her in a negative fashion. “I don’t really feel like arguing with her right now because she’ll probably bring up some story from the past, lecture me and win...”

“We could always ask her to join us...” Pound joked.

“Cute, but I think it’ll be better for both of us if I make myself scarce for the time being,” she said, seizing up the covers and pillows from Pound’s bed. Throwing an exceptionally thick comforter over herself and Pound’s waist, she pulled the remaining sheets and pillows around the blanket, making Pound’s bed appear as lumpy and unkempt as possible. The camouflage was seemingly flawless, save for the fact that everything in Pound’s bed from his waist-down appeared to be playing host to a rampant tumor.

“Scootaloo,” he said, “this is never going to work.”

“This is totally going to work, just be cool. Here,” from beneath the covers, Scootaloo tossed a magazine into Pound’s face, “act like you’re reading or something.”

Pound rolled his eyes as he took the magazine in his hooves. “She isn’t stupid you know, she’s going to notice the weird lump in the sheets—”

“Shut up, shut up, here she comes!” Scootaloo hissed as she pulled the covers tighter around herself.

Pound, ever doubtful that Scootaloo’s little ploy was going to work, opened up the magazine Scootaloo had given him and did his best to look as unassuming as possible as Apple Bloom’s hoofsteps and grumbling drew ever nearer to his room. “Land’s sake, you take your eyes off that girl for one second, one second and she slithers off like the snake she is…”

Pound glanced uncertainly at the lump of pillows, sheets and mare between his legs. There was just no way that Apple Bloom wasn’t going to realize that there was somepony hiding in that mare-sized mass, which meant that his evening with Scootaloo was going to be drawing to a swift and untimely end. Agh… it was pretty sweet while it lasted...

“Pound? Is that you?” Apple Bloom called, trotting into the colt’s room.

Pound gave the sheets one last nervous look before turning to answer. “Uh, yes, Apple Bloom, what’s up?”

“Hey, you didn’t happen to see Scootaloo pass by this way, did you?”

“Uh… um…” To his astonishment the college mare wasn’t paying hardly any attention to the odd lump. “Nope. Haven’t seen anypony else come this way.”

“You haven’t?”

Pound blinked in disbelief. How in the princesses’ names was this actually working? “Sorry, I haven’t. Why? Did something happen?”

“Yeah, see, I was just talking to Silver Spoon and according to her, Scoots was up here not too long ago trying to get frisky with her and Sweetie Belle.” The frustrated earth pony put a hoof to her forehead. “She’ll make some lewd jokes like that every now and again, but when she gets serious—and from what Silver said, she was rarin’ to go all out— she can get herself into some… ‘sticky’ situations.”

“Huh, you don’t say…” Pound resisted the urge to wholeheartedly agree with Apple Bloom. “Well, sorry, but like I said: I haven’t seen anyone pass by.” Pound returned his attention back to the magazine he’d been pretending to read. “I’ve been in here reading the whole… time...” his words began to trail off as his mind finally registered the material on the pages, revealing it to be anything but literary in nature. Had Pound regarded the magazine as anything more than a half baked alibi and an afterthought, he’d have noticed that in hooves he held a not a gazette of the literary fair, but rather a common porno-mag with the centerfold open for all to see: the pinup girl in question was of East Neighsian descent and bound by such wonderfully intricate ropework that it accentuated her curves and dripping nethers magnificently.

“‘Reading’, huh?” Apple Bloom teased.

“Well... it’s... got great articles and interviews?” Pound said, tossing the magazine to the side.

“Mmmhmm,” the yellow mare mused with a knowing smirk and a cocked eyebrow.

“Anyway, shouldn’t you be getting back to searching for Scootaloo?” he asked as casually as he could without making it seem as though he were trying to hurry Apple Bloom out of the room.

“I’ll get back to that in just a minute. Figured I’d just wait a here a minute and rest.”

“You’re going to rest here?” Pound asked, his heart sinking only slightly.

“Yeah, just for a spell...” Apple Bloom sighed as she sat down on an open space of the bed. “I’ve been standing, talking and drinking the whole time, and that music’s startin’ to give me a headache too.” She turned and smiled at Pound before continuing. “‘Sides that, when’s the last time you and I had a proper conversation?”

“Heh, yeah, I guess it has been a while, hasn’t it?” Pound said, his attention floating back to Scootaloo beneath the covers. Knowing firsthoof just how restless and impatient she could get, he was surprised that the Wonderbolt hadn’t so much as stirred the entire time she’d been under there; provided it hadn’t already, the boredom was bound to start killing her soon.

“So, how’s high school treatin’ you?” Apple Bloom asked, snapping Pound from his thoughts.

“School? It’s going good I guess. My grades are pretty good and uhh...” Pound found his attention drifting back to the Scootaloo sized lump in his sheets. Curiously enough, Scootaloo had begun to slither about beneath her hiding place; not enough to be noticed immediately, but movement could definitely be seen if someone was paying close attention. Pound briefly wondered what Scootaloo was thinking before quickly realizing that to keep Apple Bloom from drawing her focus to the wriggling mass below his waist, he would have to keep it squarely on himself. “... I’ve got a few new friends that I hang out with.”

Apple Bloom nodded. “Good, good. Friends are always important, ‘specially around your age.” The farmpony nudged him gently. “Any of them a cute filly?” she punctuated with a wink.

Before Pound could voice his displeasure that they were, in fact, fairly unattractive colts, he finally learned what Scootaloo was planning when he felt her hooves slowly stroke up and down his waning erection, quickly bringing it back to its full glory.

“Nope!” he snappily responded to Apple Bloom, as he tried in vain to shuffle his hips away from Scootaloo who seized his thighs and held him firm. Pound did his best to hide his panic beneath a porcelain mask of forced composure, but a certain playful mare sought to shatter his disguise. Pound could feel the blood and heat rush to his face as Scootaloo enveloped the head of his cock with her lips and began melting the engorged member in her oh so wonderful mouth. She wasted no time working her tongue into the mix either, rolling it around his sensitive glans while her cheeks pulverized the shaft. Mind occupied by the overwhelming pleasure, Pound hadn’t noticed that he’d subconsciously muttered “Oh wow, that feels good…” aloud.

“Uh, Pound?” Apple Bloom asked, snapping Pound back into focus.

“Y-Yes?” the colt sputtered, trying his best not to cry out as the concealed Scootaloo soundlessly suckled and slobbered her way down his girth. Unfortunately for him, his flushed cheeks and almost pained expression were much harder to suppress than his voice.

“You all right, there, partner?”

“Mmmhmm,” he sharply sucked in through the very teeth he was lying through as Scootaloo took to spelling out her own name along the length of Pound’s penis.

‘S’.

“T-totally, why do you ass~ssk~?”

‘C’.

Apple Bloom rose an eyebrow at the colt’s odd behavior. “You’re actin’ mighty weird all of a sudden, something wrong?”

‘O’.

Fighting the urge to buck his hips against Scootaloo’s mesmerising tongue work, Pound forced something between a smile and grimace and said, “N-nope, everything’s g-good.”

‘O’

“You sure about that? You look mighty flushed in the face,” Apple Bloom said.

‘T’

“Well I...uh…”

‘A’

“D-Don’t know what you’re…”

‘’L’

“t-talking about—”

Pound yelped. He could feel the increased sensitivity brought on by first onsets of orgasm, and it seemed that Scootaloo had no intentions of letting up anytime soon. She was going to force him to cum right then and there in front of Apple Bloom, and the weird thing was as much as he wanted her to stop, he found himself wanting it almost as much as she did.

‘O...’

Wanting to blow his load deep into Scootaloo’s throat while Apple Bloom watched him.

‘O.’

Wanting her to figure out what was going on and rip the blankets away only to expose Scootaloo’s debased eyes as she guzzled down his warm jizz like it were the cure for some exotic affliction she’d been ill with.

‘O.’

In a haze, Pound turned his focus to Apple Bloom and found that she hadn’t taken her concerned gaze away from him. It occurred to him that she’d been speaking to him the whole time but he hadn’t heard a single word as he’d been too focused on his encroaching climax.

‘O.’

He was close. So close that he had to clench both his jaw and his ass to cope with the surge of sensation that ripped through his member with each pass of Scootaloo’s lips. He could feel his swollen member throbbing for release against the prison of her cheeks; a burning itch that only time under tension could scratch for him.

‘OOOOOOOOOOO.’

Pound came. At the peak of his and Scootaloo’s mutual depravity, he blasted the back of her throat with such relieving intensity that it robbed him of his sight for a moment. It took every ounce of stamina he had to sit absolutely still and keep eye contact with Apple Bloom as Scootaloo’s ravenous mouth milked him for every last drop of his seed, swallowing his massive loads as quickly as he could produce them.

Shuddering from relief and ecstasy, Pound regained awareness of his surroundings just long enough to catch the trail end of whatever Apple Bloom had been trying to say to him. “...ound? Pound? Land sake’s, you gone deaf or something?”

Shaking his head to clear the fogginess in his head, Pound quickly sputtered, “Sorry about that, Apple Bloom, I kinda spaced there for a second,” he scratched the back of his head nervously before continuing, “Been a really long day y’know? I’m kinda beat.”

Apple Bloom sighed and shook her head before returning to Pound with a sympathetic smile. “All right, I understand, ‘sides that, I think it’s about time that I get back to looking for Scootaloo. Who knows what kinda mischief she’s been getting herself into?”

Who knows, indeed? Pound thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

“Make sure you get some rest, okay?” Apple Bloom asked as she started towards the door.

The colt nodded affirmatively. “Will do.”

“Good night, Pound.”

“Night, Apple Bloom.” Pound waited until he heard the door close behind Apple Bloom before ripping the blankets away in frustration, revealing Scootaloo’s grinning form. “Are you crazy?” he hissed.

“Hmm?” Scootaloo tilted her head as though she had no idea what Pound was talking about.

“She could have caught us!” Pound said all afluster.

“She could have... but she didn’t, did she? Besides that…” she flashed a catty grin, “you know you liked it,” she purred, crawling forth to nuzzle into her teenaged lover’s chest.

“I… uhh…ngh… th-that’s not the point.” Pound ceded with a pout. He found himself wrapping a wing around Scootaloo’s withers, drawing her closer.

“Wasn’t it though?” she teased, drawing circles into her plaything’s coat. For a moment the two lay unmoving and unspeaking, content to enjoy the warmth and comfort of the one another’s bodies. However, as Pound had been blessed with one of the shortest refractory periods known to ponykind, it was only a matter of minutes before he’d find himself sporting yet another achingly hard boner.

“Hey, Scootaloo?” Pound asked twiddling his hooves nervously.

“Hm?”

“So... uh, do you, y’know…”

“Wanna go again?” Scootaloo finished for her stuttering beau.

“Yeah, that, if you’re, you know, up for it or whatever.”

“Well… I guess we could go again, but…” Pound could feel Scootaloo chuckle as she sat up and reached under the bed, “...it’s gonna cost you,” she finished, brandishing a brand new bottle of brandy that she’d assumably swiped from the party. Faster than he could blink she slapped the cork from the bottle, sending it flying across the room where it landed next to the cork of the vodka bottle.

“You can’t be serious...” he groaned.

“Oh, but I can,” Scootaloo said as she swept his head into her lap, and began playfully stroking his now rather unkempt mane. “Besides, you’ve got to go bottom’s up if you want to get my bottom up. Now, open wide~♥” she cooed, tilting the foaming bottle toward’s Pound’s mouth.

With a sigh, Pound did as he was told, opening his mouth and leaning in towards the large bottle. He might not have cared for Scootaloo’s taste in drinks, but he couldn’t get enough of her taste in general. When his lips finally made contact, Pound readied himself for a steady stream of brandy, until his mentor grabbed the back of his head. “Let’s see you take a real drink this time,” she punctuated with a wink.

A very agitated voice suddenly sounded out from the hallway. “Scootaloo, I know you’re here! You’re not downstairs and Babs never saw you leave!” There was a sharp crack made from the irate earth pony kicking open a nearby door. “Stop foolin’ around and get out here!”

Right, Apple Bloom, should’ve know she wouldn’t give up so easily, the beige pegasus thought, sighing in disappointment that his night would be rapidly coming to a close.

“Man, she really doesn’t give up, does she?” Scootaloo mused aloud, a hint of admiration breaking through the cascade of irritation aimed at her best friend. “We’re never going to have any fun at this rate… say Pound, are you up for a flight around the block?” she asked with a massive grin.

Pound thought hard, but try as he might, he couldn’t imagine what Scootaloo was thinking. Having gone this far at her urging already, he figured why not take it a little further. “Sure, beats staying up here with my magazine to keep me company.” Hopping off of his bed, he trotted over to his window and unlatched it, unleashing a cool night breeze into his room. He turned back to Scootaloo, motioning her towards the open portal. “Ladies first.”

Scootaloo walked past him, swishing her tail playful over his muzzle as she went. “Try and keep up, lead hooves. If you’re fast enough, you might just get a private photo shoot.” Then she leaned in close and whispered, “And you’ll get to pick the poses,” adding a playful lick for incentive before bursting out of his room and into the starry night beyond.

As it turned out, Pound’s night was only just beginning.

Half a day and several hours later

It was the very unwelcome rays of the midmorning sun that greeted Pound’s eyelids, stirring him from his deathlike slumber. He sluggishly rose a hoof to block the blinding light, though his efforts seemed to be in vain as the sun managed to trickle into his sight regardless.
“Ugh… my head…” Pound groaned, sluggishly rubbing his throbbing temples as he sat up and opened his eyes, only to find that he had absolutely no idea where he was.

“Well, look who’s finally alive” the familiar voice of Scootaloo cheerily hummed.

“Sc… Scootaloo?” he asked, struggling to focus on the peppy mare darting about the bedroom.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

“Uhhnn… good morning...”

“Good afternoon,” Scootaloo corrected.

“Afternoon? How long was I out?”

“Hmm…” Scootaloo tapped her chin in thought, “Nine hours at least.”

“Damn, that long?” Pound took a moment to look around and take in his surroundings. To his surprise he was in a room so utterly cluttered with junk that it made his mess of a room seem barren. “Where am I?”

“My place,” the older pegasus answered offhoofedly, her attention set upon a small tray on a cluttered nightstand.

“Your… place?” It took a moment for the gravity of Scootaloo’s words to sink in. “In Cloudsdale?!”

“That’s the one,” she replied, popping the small tray onto her back..

“Oh, crap, I was supposed to help mom and dad clean up the shop today, I’ve gotta get going.” Pound started moving to slide out of the bed.

“Whoa, slow your role, there lead hooves,” Scootaloo said, as she pushed Pound back down on the bed. “Do you realize how wasted you got last night? Hungover as you are, you’re in no condition to fly.”

“But—”

“Besides, I already called your parents, told them that you spent the night at my place and that I’d have you back later.”

“And... they were okay with that?”

“Well, your mom wasn’t but your dad seemed to be all for the idea for some reason. Kept saying ‘I knew my son wasn’t some other stallion’s creampuff, I just knew it.’ What’s that all about?” She looked at Pound expectantly and saw him cringe at the statement.

“Please, just don’t ask…”

“Anyway, here, I made you breakfast. It’s nothing fancy, but...” Scootaloo used a wing to set the tray she’d been carrying on Pound’s lap. Several microwave pancakes and a mound of blackened hash browns that closely resembled a pack of timberwolves smoldering to death greeted him. Nothing fancy indeed.

“Thanks...” Pound cautiously poked at the lightest colored of the three pancakes, trying to decide whether Scootaloo’s culinary offering was even close to edible. Given that he’d barely eaten anything the day before, he was in no position to criticize the nourishment provided for him, but Tartarus be damned, the next time Scootaloo stepped hoof into a kitchen he was going to be right there unfucking years of Home Economics classes she’d taken and failed with Sweetie Belle as a partner.

“No problem, just make lunch later and we’ll call it even. Well, when you’re done eating I drew a bath for us. The bathroom’s down the hall and I keep some condoms in the nightstand right there. Bring however many you like… if you want to bring any at all that is,” she finished with a wink.

“Wait, what?” Pound sputtered.

“See you in a few, lead hooves,” she said, strutting towards the hallway door, her unruly violet tail swaying suggestively behind her with each step.

Pound turned his attention to the plate of dismally prepared food and then to a criminally overstuffed trashcan. He could wait until lunch to eat, right now he had other more pressing appetites of the flesh to attend to.

The End

Well, that was certainly what it was: a tale of treacherous taboos and thoroughly tapped tails, but was it enough to sate your thirsts? Well, regardless, it’s open bar tonight and Antagonist ain’t checkin’ IDs, so imbibe to your heart’s content my little patrons. It’s happy hour every hour:

A. Twincest is wincest.

B.There’s Always Room For One More (Ménage à trois)

D. There’s nothing like the eccentricity of an older woman

Author's Note

Inspired by this groundbreaking work of adult fiction as read by the esteemed Roy Kelly

Also, I apologize if this seems subpar compared to the other chapters, but it's uhh... it's been a while. Consider this a dusting off, I'll bring it hotter and heavier next time.