The dinner party was superb, lots of good food. The cake was great, but there were so many candles I was afraid the house might burn down. Dawn surprised us by blowing out every candle in one try, then taking the biggest slice. She only got four presents, I forgot to get her anything, and Velvetine was told not to bring anything. So just one from Churner, one from her middle-aged son who sells milk, one from the nurse who lives with her, and one from the Swirlys in Bucksfield.

After that we played horseshoes and watched the sunset. I found out that Velvetine is a master at crochet, loom, and basket weaving. She came to Dawn wanting to learn how to knit and is taking private lessons. She met Churner after staying late trying to finish her first scarf. Of course, he lives with Dawn, so that's why he was there. Dawn refused to let him move out, even after Frosty left. I still think it’s weird for a full-grown stallion to be living with his ex-wife’s mother.

Velvetine lives in town, just down the street from the library, so when she and I both decide it's late and time to get home, Churner offers to walk us both. Velvetine's house is on the way to mine, so he's not worried. I'm worried though.

"You'll have to walk all the way back home by yourself!" I argue.

"I'll live," he smirks.

"Especially if he doesn't go home," Velvetine chimes in, a little too seductively.

"Oooh," says the butter maker. "That's a nice thought. But I've made that mistake before. I'll take a heavy flashlight." Velvetine raises an eyebrow at "mistake," and I sense a little too much sass. I know what Churner's talking about, but still, the thought of him calling Velvetine a "mistake" makes me happy.

We walk into the growing darkness, Churner trying to sweet-talk Velvetine into smiling at him again.

(It's probably the new mane style he's sporting.)

I chuckle a little, but quiet down quick.

(And look you were right.)

About what?

(It's a new moon.)

Oh yeah.

The rest of the walk is pretty much silent.

Churner has buttered up Velvetine perfectly and she leaves him with a teasing tail-whip and a sly grin.

He blows her a kiss and she loses her cool. He's just not the flirtatious, bedroom-eyes kind of stallion. Even I knew that. Maybe not anymore. Can you lose aspects like that with age? He’s not that old… Did he even have them to begin with?

As we walk to my house I start humming his old tune again. I get all the way through the part I know and he joins in, before taking it away with the rest of the song. When I stop humming along for too long he starts singing. Actually singing. I wish he were a better singer, but at the same time I'm glad he's not.

—Top o' the hill, sunrise
Top o' the hill, sunrise
All the way home, sunrise
Kiss me coming home
Kiss me sweet, oh kiss me,
Kiss me coming home, sunrise.
Sway in the tree, sunrise
Sway in the tree, sunrise
Whistle a tune, sunrise
Hold me coming home
Hold me dear, oh hold me
Hold me coming home, sunrise
Edge of the stream, sunrise
Edge of the stream, sunrise
Remember me, sunrise
Remember me, coming home
Remember, love oh remember
Remember me coming home, sunrise.—

I shiver in the damp cold and he steps closer, walking with his body against mine. I feel a little too warm, and so does he. It's nice, though.

It was a nice song, if a bit strange, but I can't help but feel like he left out a part. With this feeling it gives me, maybe it's a good thing he doesn't finish it? Plus I'm extra glad he's comforting me.

I see my house, there's a lantern outside the door. Somepony must be waiting for me inside. I turn and thank him for walking me home and am about to thank him for everything else but he stops me.

We stop walking and I face him. His face is masked by darkness, but he looks beat red. Could he... impossible.

"I-I... wanted to give you s-something else."

He can't be serious.

He faces me, but can't look me in the eye. "I-I... w-... you might not... get another ch-chance."

He's shaking. He is serious.

He squeezes his eyes shut. "I-I-I-I... w-w-want to..."

I step in. Brush my nose against his. He shuts up. Opens his eyes. He looks scared, yet determined. I tell him, "It won't change anything. You're my friend."

He swallows hard and takes a deep breath. Closing his eyes more gently, "Please... a-allow me t-to...m-m—"

I shut him up again, this time for good. His lips are as warm as I guessed, which at this point is a bit of a let-down. His breath smells like cake and his heavy breathing is honestly hilarious, but I'm too wrapped up in the moment to laugh. My first kiss is not something to laugh about. He calms down a bit and gets a little more intimate.

A lot more. His tongue breaks through, sending shivers down my spine. I follow his lead. He puts a hoof around me, pulls me in closer. We're locked together, wet, hot. Part of me doesn't want it to end.

Suddenly I'm on my back, lying on the dirt road. I'm startled and take a few deep breaths, a little scared. He finds my lips again and goes crazy, lowering himself onto me. There's a stiffness against my midsection as his body comes close to mine.

With our bellies touching I'm lost. We are together, but nowhere. I've never felt so warm, and a part of me refuses to stop getting warmer. Wait, an actual, physical part of me? What is this?

"Stop," I plead in a split second of freedom.

He embraces me again. We're moving, rolling. Suddenly I'm above him and he's holding on to my waist, so firm, I love it. Wait...

"Churn..." it comes out differently than I intend, more like I'm calling for him.

"Ooohh, yeah..." he moans. This is... this is wrong... isn't it?

He keeps going, slowly moving his hips against me, and his stiffness rubs against mine. The part of me that's begging for him is a different part from before. I didn't know these body parts could want things. My stallionhood is like a whole new part of my body, I've never felt like this. We roll again, he is once again on top, the kissing stops for now. I catch my breath, exhausted. He's moving himself down, off my body. My skin feels colder in the night, but my being is still hot.

"Churner," I beg, trying to find the will to stop him. He just moans, kissing parts of my chest, belly. He gives me a jolt by taking a long, slow lick up my vulnerable shaft, then more kisses down, against my loin, scrotum... where is he going? Who cares? The sensation of it all. I've never been touched like this. I never knew these parts of me were so sensitive. Keep going, please.

His tongue suddenly finds my virgin taint, making me gasp. I don't stop him, I love it. He keeps playing, I whine into the darkness, wanting more. A slight penetration and I whine even louder. His tongue inside me, my hips buck slightly against my will, my dick is so stiff, my body trembling. Then he's gone, I look up, he's looking at me. He stands and moves up my body. Soon my muzzle is touching his hot meat. I know what he wants, and I oblige: I want it more.

I fit my lips around the wide head, he moves it in slowly, lathering it in my saliva. It tastes odd, somehow good, and his smell is so dense my head aches. In and out, so slowly. I move my head up to try to get more of it, gagging slightly as it reaches into my throat. Again. I reach for him, brushing his flanks, feeling his firm, round ass. I grasp my hooves around his thighs, giving me the leverage to suck deeper. Relaxing my throat, I somehow manage to swallow the entire, impossible length. I hear his moan and my nose brushes his abdomen. Back down slowly. I open my eyes and love the view; I've never been so close to his underbelly, it's so cool. The way he moves his hips makes me feel even harder, his gentle moans as the head of his dick stretches my throat. All the way, again, again, one more time. I love the feeling of his sack tickling my chin, bouncing off as he humps into me, but I hold him. Swallowing hard, with his whole length in my throat, I hear him moan loudly. It hurts, but I do it again, wanting to please myself by pleasing him.

My jaw starts to hurt, I don't care, but he pulls out. I feel a tad lonely but somehow, as he steps away from me, I suddenly know to roll over. On my face in the dirt, I lift my backside high. It's a stretch, but I'm more flexible than I thought, my back is curved in an almost painful arch, my tail is up, my ass is open, teasing him, wanting him. It feels cold, wet with his saliva. I spread myself, desiring him.

"Are you ready?"

Yes, I think. My throat is sore, so I'm quiet. This is what I want. This is how I want it to happen.

At least, how I wished it would have happened.

Author's Notes:

In which I make up a song and fail at my first attempt at writing pornographic material.