Hoity Toity’s jaunt into the throes of lust

The door to the barn at sweet apple acres slid open as two figures make their way inside, one more sturdily than the other.

“I'm uh-not so sure about this anymore Mr. Macintosh.”

“Relax city pony, us farm boys are real hospitable, I promise ya. Oh and you can call me Big Mac, I'm not inta all that formal stuff.”

“I’d much rather address you by the proper title lest allow myself to fall below the lines of nothing less than a gentleman.”

“Well, alright, whatever tickles your fancy; besides me a’course.” A salacious smile follows the statement.

The poncey city pony gives a warm smile in return and begins to canvas his surroundings. The interior of the barn is adorned with the same cherry red paintjob as the outside. Bales of hay lie askew on the floor of the barn. Rafters hang overhead, with splintering wood and chipping paint, and ropes hang down from the second floor of the barn, used for moving the hay from the bottom to the top and vice versa.

“Well, it’s nothin’ to call and tell home bout’ but it does its job I reckon, but it could use a bit ah sprucin’ up if ya ask me.

“This is a-uh, quaint little place you have here.” The city pony stated with clear apprehension. It’s not that these conditions were exactly deplorable. No, atrocious wasn’t the right word either. Askew, disheveled, rustic even, but nothing an experienced city pony like himself couldn’t handle.

“Then again,” the pony went on, seemingly emboldened by Big Mac’s lackadaisical attitude toward the situation, “I'm not exactly here for the scenery.”

A lustrous grin from the earth pony walking in front of him told him that his walk out on the limb hadn’t been in vein as they made their way up the staircase to the upper level of the barn.

They made their way to the end of the walkway and came upon a tiny area with a wooden gate, much like the ones used to keep cattle inside the fence. Behind the gate lie a tiny bed surrounded by a menagerie of hay, straw and grass. Macintosh opened the gate for his partner in an attempt to be more chivalrous.

“Hmm, I seem to be rubbing off on you” The well mannered pony said with a smirk.

“I hope rubbin’s not the only thing you can do” Macintosh stated with a smirk as the two made their way inside the enclosure and Macintosh closed the gate behind them.

Hoity and Macintosh had established a relationship when Macintosh had gone all the way to Canterlot in an attempt to buy a dress for Apple Jack to wear to the Equestrain square dance competition held at Sweet Apple Acres every year. He knew squat about fashion, but he’d heard heresy of a designer by the name of “Hoity Toity.” He met up with aforementioned pony, aforementioned pony notices build on average farm boy. One thing leads to another and you have a “beneficial relationship.” Macintosh wanted to make two things very clear with Hoity though. The first is that no one else, not even his family would know about their “friendship.” The second was that the relationship was to be strictly plutonic, no love involved whatsoever. Hoity agreed, because his reputation would’ve taken a heavy hit if the public found out that he was batting for the other team, so to speak.

Hoity stood awkwardly in the center of the small space, standing parallel to the bed lying almost directly under him.

“So city pony, think you can handle this rugged farm boy?” Big Mac joked as he turned to face his companion.

The stone colored pony said nothing; he only blushed, hard, as if all the bravado he had gained over the course of their little tryst had simply drained away and left him standing statuesque.

“Well” Macintosh said with a sly grin as he sauntered over to the catatonic pony. “You look like a deer in headlights; positively frozen.” Big Mac let out a chuckle as he lightly pushed the pony in the side and made him fall onto the bed with a dull thud.

“Forget cow tippin,’ this is way more fun” The brick colored pony chuckled as he stared down the frozen pony, admiring how cute he looked when he was embarrassed.

The stone colored pony was about to protest being so rudely man-handled when he felt the familiar sensation of a tongue gliding across his neck which made him shudder and squelched all his protests rather quickly. It was becoming clear that his cohort was not one for idle palaver.

Hoity leaned into the gentle ministrations of Big Mac’s tongue, groaning under his breath as he felt the warm, slick appendage canvas the expanse of his neck. He felt the invader slither across his body while Big Mac turned him onto his back. The muscle trailed its way down his chest and over his stomach, making him gasp and moan as it went.

Hoity let out an audible gasp as he felt Big Mac’s tongue slide across his navel, dangerously close to the city pony’s equipment. Big Mac smiled as he realized Hoity was already putty in his hooves and he hadn’t even begun to get dirty.

Macintosh looked at the shivering mass of stone colored pony that was once a well composed gentleman and smirked. Just as he did so he felt a pair of hooves on the back of his head, urging him toward the “goods.”

“Well, someone’s a lil’ eager.” Macintosh joked.

Hoity merely blushed; his cheeks tinted a sanguine red, and looked at Macintosh with pleading eyes.

Macintosh said nothing as he lowered his head to the sensitive nub of flesh between the gentleman’s legs and pressed his nose against it. Hoity inhaled a sharp intake of air as Macintosh finally made contact with his package. Macintosh opened his mouth and let his serpentine tongue slither out of the confines of his jaws. Hooves still on the back of his head, pressing him down with ardor, Macintosh finally let his tongue run agonizingly slowly over the city pony’s package, making him gasp.

Hoity inhaled sharply again as he felt the tongue come in contact with his junk, moaning as Macintosh repeated the process several more times, the sensitive pink head of his weapon poking gingerly out of his sheathe.

“Come on farm boy,” The city pony panted. “Aren’t you around roosters all day?”

Macintosh lifted his head of from the confines of the other gentlemen’s back legs to retort to the playful jeer. “Yeah, but we usually cook those ‘fore we eat em.”

“Well I’ve got a hot piece of meat for you right here.” Hoity coaxed, spreading his legs wider, his vigor seemingly renewed; and his chivalry seemingly forgotten.

“I should warn you, I can swallow a chicken whole, Macintosh countered.”

“Perfect” Hoity grinned as he ended their playful banter by pushing Macintosh’s head into his groin as far as it would go, letting out a throaty groan in the process.

Right then and there all the gentlemanly composure Hoity worked so hard to preserve throughout their little tryst had flown right out the window. He couldn’t have cared less about how groomed he looked at that exact moment. He didn’t care that he was on his back, reduced to a shivering pile of lust. He didn’t care that he was letting an earth pony who probably showered about once a week, touch him so intimately. He didn’t even care that his pristinely coiffed and well kept mane was now adorned with assortments of hay, dead leaves and grass. All he cared about was the sheer, unbridled pleasure that the earth pony was giving to him at this exact moment. If that made him selfish, arrogant, he didn’t care; that was his nature after all.

Macintosh got the hint and finally decided to stop playing with the needy gentleman. Now face to snout with the half erect penis of a highly acclaimed fashion critic, Macintosh slipped the throbbing organ into his mouth and began to suck.

Hoity threw his head back and let out an exasperated “Fuck” as Macintosh ate his member whole, just as he warned he could. Hoity gritted his teeth. He could feel Macintosh’s tongue caressing his member. Now fully hard, he felt every suck, every lick, every time he twirled his skilled appendage around the tip. And as he was getting serviced by the other earth pony he briefly let his mind wander amidst the haze of drunken pleasure. He never thought that Macintosh, the strong resolute, hard working earth pony, that seemed to typify everything it meant to be manly, would ever be caught dead sucking off another male, especially one such as “feminine” himself. It amazed him.

As Macintosh continued to cosset the sexual needs of the fashion critic, the pony above him began to pant, Hoity wanted so badly to ram his throbbing tool into the pie hole of the other pony so hard that it made his teeth loose; but he didn’t. Somewhere deep down; very, very deep down, it seemed there was still an inkling of chivalry shrouded within the deep fog of bone rattling pleasure.

About three minutes later and the onslaught of licking and sucking was quickly proving to be too much for the posh pony to handle, and just as he realized this; he felt it. The point when you know that you can no longer hold back the eruption of sheer ecstasy. The point when you know that the person servicing you better choose if they want to spit or swallow; the breaking point. Hoity felt that the three second rule better be applied very soon.

“Macintosh I'm-!”

But he was too slow on the draw and Macintosh was subjected to a turret of hot, salty pony semen shooting out of the other’s member and coating the insides of his mouth. He tried to swallow as much as he could as fast as he could, but there proved to be too copious an amount, and he was forced to let some dribble out the sides of his mouth and drip in runnels down his jaw line.

As Hoity was cumming, Macintosh had decided to milk him as much as he could; so he wrapped one hoof around the spurting member and jerked furiously. The other pony’s drawn out moan quickly turned to muffled cursing through tightly clenched teeth as he did so.

Macintosh watched as Hoity’s orgasm died down from a violent eruption to a mild trickle, and then cease altogether. He felt the last few drips of the other pony’s orgasm run down his hoof, so he brought it up to his face and licked it off rather seductively. But despite how salacious he was trying to be, the other pony wouldn’t have been able to see him. The posh pony was currently on his back with his head flat on the bed, eyes screwed shut, member leaking, and a thin layer of sweat causing a slight sheen to overtake his normally pristine coat, panting all the while.

“Have fun?” Macintosh asked.

The poncey pony lifted his head languidly. It took all the strength he could muster just to nod before he let his head fall back to the wooden planks supporting them both.

Macintosh decided to give the other pony some time to rest after the “experience” he just had, so he waited about ten minutes for his guest to re-compose himself before making his next move.

Hoity felt a light tap on his snout, he pried an eye open to find Macintosh staring down at him with a quizzical look.

“You still alive city pony?” Big Mac questioned.

“Yes I am still very much alive; well at least, now I am. That was a truly riveting experience as always, thank you Mr. Macintosh.”

“Ma pleasure city pony, but we ain’t finished yet,” A sly smile followed this statement.

Macintosh then turned around 180 degrees so that his flank was right above Hoity’s head, the other pony staring directly at his dripping length.

The other pony gave a lustful grunt of want as he continued to stare at the earth pony’s rather impressive tool of sexual gratification.

“You like?” Macintosh teased.

Hoity moaned as Big Macintosh teased him, his soilder back to full attention almost instantly. The posh pony wrapped both hooves around the impressive girth and brought it down to his mouth and licked the underside of it from the base all the way to the tip.

Macintosh let out a hiss of pleasure as the other pony turned the tables, pre-cum dribbling out of his length and onto Hoity’s chest and stomach, making the stone colored pony seemingly moan louder as every drop splashed onto his person, pushing him further and further into the depths of lust and need.

Hoity had since taken almost the entire length of Macintosh into his mouth and began to show the plow-horse what HIS tongue could do, turning the brolic earth pony to putty in his hooves in almost no time at all. The fashion critic began assailing the macho pony with a powerful barrage of tongue dexterity, sucking furiously all the while.

Macintosh bit down hard in an attempt to muffle some of the moans that were threatening to sprout forth from within him. He had no idea his guest could become so…inspired so quickly, but he wasn’t exactly complaining.

Hoity didn’t pull of his member even once, not even when so much pre-baby gravy was assailing his taste buds. Macintosh would’ve been impressed if he could think straight with the tidal waves of pleasure hitting him every second. It was hard to even keep his eyes open with such an experienced tongue working his package like an expert mailman.

Just as Hoity had, Macintosh only lasted about three minutes before he felt as thought he was bound to lose his load inside the city pony’s maw. The farm boy felt the overwhelming sensation of the soldier’s ready to deploy, and as per-usual, attempted to warn the pony below him so he knew it was coming.

“Get ready city pony” Macintosh panted.

Macintosh let out a throaty groan as he began to empty his clip. The pony below him did not respond to this, he didn’t even make any indication that he’d heard Macintosh at all; but the sudden increase in suction following Macintosh’s statement was all the confirmation the plow-horse needed, as rope after rope of freshly made gravy sprayed into Hoity’s mouth. Thanks to the work horse’s over-sized treasures the amount that turreted out of Macintosh’s length was more than liberal, it was massive. There was no way Hoity could swallow all that baby making juice, so he was forced to pull of the gun mid clip, and get shot in the face with the rest, coating his face and the wooden planks below.

Macintosh panted, breathless, his tool of the trade hanging limply between his back legs; Hoity lay helplessly under him, basking in unabated sexual need, still raring to go another round. If he could’ve, he would’ve grabbed Macintosh’s “weapon of choice” and made him putty in his hooves all over a gain, but he decided that the plow horse needed some time to recover. He on the other hand, was still hard, leaking liberal amounts of pre-cum, and rapidly losing his grip on his sanity.

As he delved deeper into the throes of lust and became all but oblivious to the outside world, something snapped within Hoity’s head that made everything around him slowly fade out. Shapes began to deform, colors began to coalesce; everything began to seem like a stale darkness in the background and the only thing that mattered was him, Macintosh, and the hot and heavy love they had the potential to make.

The blue blood pushed himself onto shaky hooves, still very much aroused. “Macintosh…” he panted. “I…I need you.”

Big Mac always thought of himself as a cautious pony, choosing his actions and his words carefully, but as soon as the subtle “come get me” squeezed past his lips and played upon the already invigorated gentleman’s ears, he almost instantly regretted it…almost.

Hoity jumped him like he was a predator who hadn’t eaten in days and he was a small, defenseless, dying animal. The force of Hoity’s body hitting Macintosh had sent them both tumbling to the ground in a tangled heap of limbs and mane with the more feminine of the two in the dominant position. Macintosh’s assailant wasted no time in besetting the massive work horse with a combination of licks and kisses on his neck and chest that progressively began to list lower down his body every passing second.

It was quickly becoming clear to Big Mac that he would be unable to satiate the gentleman turned sexual deviant, so he decided to lay still and succumb to the fervent ministrations of his riled up partner. Big Mac closed his eyes and let Hoity Toity delude whatever part of his body he could get his hooves on. The blue blood continued his ministrations until he reached the plow horse’s navel, then all of the sensation stopped for a brief second. Macintosh considered peaking an eye open, but decided against it as it would most likely ruin the surprise for him.

But a surprise is exactly what he got when he suddenly felt a warm, slick invader gently caressing the delicate ring of muscle just under his tail. His body emitted a heavy shiver and lurched upward at the initial contact, letting an involuntary moan of pleasure and boring down against the source of the new feeling in hopes of somehow amplifying it.

It was safe to say that Big Mac had never been in a situation such as this. Whenever he had relations with another pony, be it male or female, he was always on top. He always played the alpha, was always the one calling the shots. But his fancy partner had effectively turned his proclivities on their side, introducing him to something complete foreign to him; but he liked it, he wanted more.

“Get up,” Hoity demanded

Macintosh wordlessly rolled to his shaky hooves and tried to find purchase in anything on the creaky wooden floorboards to steady himself. Hoity walked up behind him and brushed a hoof against his tail. Hoity was about to grab it to make his message clear, but as soon as he touched it, Macintosh ratcheted his tail high into the air, straight as it could go, exposing the sensitive nub of flesh once again to the pheromone induced assailant.

“Well, someone’s a little eager,” the posh pony grinned as he watched Macintosh present himself like a bitch in heat, panting like he’d run a race; only adding to the imagery.

Hoity put his weight back on his haunches and used his front hooves to grab Macintosh’s flank. He then, without warning began to once again assail the sensitive nub of flesh with his tongue. In response to the body wracking pleasure, Macintosh let out another guttural moan and his entire front half sank to the ground, while his back half rose higher into the air, letting his assailant get a better angle at the goods.

Hoity continued progressively turning Big Mac into jell-o for a good minute until the wonderful sensations suddenly stopped and left Big Macintosh looking back at his attacker expectantly.

He suddenly could feel the weight of Hoity’s hooves on his flanks shift from their current position to his lower back. He’d been in that same position enough times to know what was coming next, and he didn’t know if he was quite ready for something like this just yet.

“Uhh- Mr. Hoity sir- I'm not so sure if-.”

Hoity grinned up at Big Mac with a devilishly eroticized smirk. He knew that someone as brolic and dominant as him would have misgivings about something like this, but he knew that Macintosh would enjoy it in due time.

“Oh would you relax farm boy, it feels far better than it looks. Just calm down and don’t do so much jerking around and I promise you you’ll be feeling a lot more pleasure than pain.”

At this Macintosh had acquiesced to the posh pony and put his trust completely in the other’s formerly well manicured hooves. After finishing his bout of reassurance, Hoity reached one slicked up hoof toward the delicate ring of muscle underneath Big Mac’s flagged tail and gently massaged the tip inside.

Macintosh let out a groan of pleasure, the volume of which surprised both patrons, and once again found himself boring back against the foreign thing prodding to gain entrance into the tightly sealed ring of muscle. It seemed Macintosh had had enough foreplay at that point though, one resounding statement baying Hoity to stop fooling around was all it took for the gentleman to become serious. He knew that goading the horn-dog on was probably not the best idea precursor to something that would inevitably involve pain; but if pleasure came hand in hand with that pain, Macintosh didn’t quite care at this point.

“Well, alright. You ready for this farm boy?”

Macintosh only nodded as he felt the form behind him take two un-sure steps forward. Macintosh sucked in a breath as he prepared for the invasion, tensing all his muscles in anticipation. He felt the head of the battering ram gently prodding the castle doors as he sucked in more air through his nostrils, exhaling only slightly.

“Here we go,” Hoity warned as he suddenly began to push his hips forward until he felt the head of his spear begin to spread the walls of the stubborn muscle. Macintosh let out a grunt of pain as he felt the intruder force its way into his fortress, expelling the breath he’d been holding in all at once.

Macintosh wondered how in the hay Hoity could tell him to relax when it felt like he was being ripped in two. He knew that he was definitely bigger than the feminine pony when it came to package size, but the thing felt absolutely gargantuan when it was being used on him in such a way. Every inch that Hoity pushed into him was excruciating to say the least, he might as well had a hot poker up his ass. He almost opted to tell the former gentleman to stop, but Macintosh was never the type to complain about anything, and he wasn’t about to start now. So for every inch that was so agonizingly inserted, he gnashed his teeth together that much harder.

Hoity Toity on the other hand was in absolute heaven. He could tell Macintosh had never done this before because his back end was unbelievably tight. It took all the willpower that he still had in his reserves not to simply ravage the much bigger stallion under him. It was quite a feat just making as much progress as he had with the amount of resistance there was, if he wasn’t so slick already this may not have worked out so well. He slid each inch in incredibly slowly, the heat and the tightness of the opening was absolutely torturous.

He pushed another two inches until he realized that he was all the way to the hilt, panting hard from the laborious feat. After an enormous exhale and a shaky sigh of relief, Macintosh was panting just as loud as he was. Hoity rested there for about a minute, letting Macintosh rest and adjust before slowly sliding himself back out, making Macintosh groan in pain and prompting his teeth to resume grinding together. Hoity slid almost the entire organ out at a slow, controlled pace before pushing it back in just as slowly, eliciting a groan from the brick colored one as he hilted himself again.

The process was repeated several times, and each time Macintosh noticed that the pain was being diluted with each repeat of the cycle. He hadn’t noticed it yet but each time that his partner drew himself back, he would unconsciously push his rear end back to meet the oncoming gyration half way, transforming the grunts of pain into fruitlessly suppressed utterances of pleasure.

Macintosh’s futilely muffled groans began to progressively crescendo into uninhibited sounds of raw sexual gratification growing voluminous enough to put irreparable strain on the wall holding back his raw emotion. He hadn’t expected something that started with such ardent, searing pain could turn into something so euphoric and bone rattling. He didn’t know where the turning point happened, but again, he sure wasn’t complaining. Another stab was delivered and Macintosh finally lost it. The damn holding back the suppressed sounds that Macintosh wanted so desperately to utter finally broke and he let loose a bellowing groan as Hoity nailed his “sweet spot” dead on.

But his outburst didn’t just affect him. One drawn out curse and a couple fervent come-ons and the pitcher was just as riled up as he was, letting out an uncharacteristic growl as he prepared to really stick it to his uke. Using his back hooves Hoity spread Macintosh’s wobbly legs further apart and reared back, he then proceeded to drive his hips forward with unrelenting force (lol) making the form under him cry out yet again.

Hoity found that his recently sustained ardor was quickly was bringing him ever closer to the edge. He could feel the tantalizing tickle of release playing at the entirety of his extension and he let out a particularly loud exhale as the pleasure surged throughout his body. His dogged assault was affecting Macintosh as well, prodding him ever closer to the finale, the harried assault on his weak point reducing him to a mere cacophony of fervent groans and grunts.

In the heady haze of their arousal both colts felt the point of no return rush up to greet them, and once again demonstrated the queer synchronies of their libidos. The stone colored one emits a few more curt thrusts before burying himself to the hilt, letting out a rather feminine moan as he releases his pent up sexual energy. The being under him also loses it and with a hoof wrapped around his weapon of choice, lets his sexual energy loose onto the wooden planks below with a shuddering groan, soaking them to the screws.

The stone colored pony retracts himself with a pop and falls back on his rump; exhausted. As soon as he feels the invader finish it’s spelunking into the cavern where the sun don’t shine, Macintosh collapses onto his stomach, limbs sprawled out, panting heavily.

Both the exhausted patrons lie motionless for some time. The poncey one was the first to re-animate, letting out a sigh as he rose from the spot he’d collapsed after their little romp letting an involuntary shiver run down his spine as he stretched his aching muscles. He finally pulled himself together enough to once again be aware of his surroundings, and noticed that his friend hadn’t moved.

He cantered over to the downed work horse, and peered down at him, noticing the gentle rise and fall of his chest, exhaling a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

“Yeah?” The sudden reply from the body under him startled the city boy and made him jump a little in surprise.

“Just wanted to make sure you were alive,” Hoity states with a grin.

“Oh I'm alive,” Macintosh finally rolls onto his hooves and makes an attempt to stand. He finally makes it to a standing position and tries to take a step before wincing in pain. “A little sore, but alive.”

The more sophisticated of the two uses his hoof to cover his mouth in an attempt to quell the laughter that is escaping from his mouth as the plow horse shoots him a glower.

Macintosh attempts to make his way toward the gate, but the pain emanating from his backside is making it rather difficult to walk. He takes a couple pain filled steps before he feels the warmth of another body pressing up against his side. Macintosh looks over and smiles at Hoity as the two continue to make their way toward the exit.

“Thanks,” Macintosh smiles as Hoity dishes out an equally exuberant smile.

“Don’t go soft on me now farm boy,” he teased “or I may be inclined the think you were falling for me.”

“Well ya did do quite a number on me,” he smirks, at which both colts can’t help but let out lighthearted chuckles, and simmering blushes.

“We should do this again sometime,” Macintosh says as they approach the heavy wooden doors of the barn, pale moonlight seeping in.

“You ARE falling for me!” Hoity chuckles, “I knew I was irresistible.”

Macintosh doesn’t respond to Hoity’s friendly jibes as they emerge from the barn into the cool night air.

“In all seriousness, I did have quite the time, thank you for your hospitality Mr. Macintosh.”

“Not a problem, always good to have company round’ this place once in a while, you tend to get a little stir crazy bein’ by yourself fer too long.”

A moment of pregnant silence follows as both colts try desperately to avoid eye contact with the other. Eventually Macintosh clears his throat and breaks the silence, Hoity eyes snapping back to Macintosh’s as he does so.

“Well…guess I’ll see ya round,” Macintosh squeezes out awkwardly, turning to leave.

“Yeah…” Hoity trails off, turning to head off himself.

Another moment of silence follows as both colts finally separate, Macintosh limping his way back to the farmhouse, and Hoity canters off on the solemn dirt road, making his way back to his apartment, guided only by the dull shine light of the moonlight.