Doug’s spade bites into the hard ground, the brown of the surrounding plains turning to a medium gray as they near the Gorge itself. Doug paces himself, swapping between spade and shovel while watching the white unicorn quickly trot back and forth. Her horn stays lit, head nearly to the ground as she scours for any more clusters of gems. Her trots get more and more weary as the length between caches gets longer and longer, especially as the minutes working turn to hours. At some point she drops off her saddlebags, leaving them for Doug to carry from spot to spot. He does so without complaint, taking the opportunity to take a drink whenever he moves from spot to further away, and often deeper, spot. At least the deeper nodes have more gems in them.

Doug spends the time mentally drafting out the letter he’ll send to the group in Canterlot, tearing a page out of Rarity’s sketchpad and occasionally jotting down notes. Rarity doesn’t spend much time on his gloves, mostly because the improvements will be fairly minor and also because the constant scanning doesn’t give her much time to rest. After about three hours of work she gets to the edge of the ravine of the Ghastly Gorge itself. She turns around, making her way to the grassy area closest to Doug.

“I think,” Doug remarks to Rarity as he finishes the last hole she indicated, the remainder of her search proving fruitless, “that the next time I do this I’m bringing a post-hole digger.”

“Really?” Rarity says with a hint of optimism, the exhausted unicorn plopping down on the grass. “You think there’ll be a next time?”

“Sure,” Doug says, jabbing the spade and shovel into the ground before stretching his arms and back. “This wasn’t too bad. A lot like working with Applejack in the fields, except there’s more of a chance of a wild animal attacking. Nothing like the constant threat of evisceration to keep you motivated.”

“If that’s your way of angling for danger pay,” Rarity grits out, though her harsh tone drops at seeing the twinkle in Doug’s eye and his smile, “then I’ll have to think about it.” She smiles back, resting her eyes. “I’m sorry, the constant drain on my horn can be quite debilitating.”

“Makes sense,” Doug says, opening the saddlebags and pulling out the remainder of the food. He doesn’t bother splitting it, instead grabbing two pencils and sitting cross legged next to Rarity. She opens an eye as he grabs a chunk of salad, aiming it towards her muzzle.

Rarity feels her heart swell at the gesture. “You don’t have to do that,” she says modestly, though the way her mouth hangs open and leans towards the bite belies her statement.

“‘Course I don’t,” Doug says, maneuvering the salad into her awaiting mouth. He balances the container on his leg while his other hand removes her hat, Rarity squinting at the afternoon sun. His hand massages her scalp, tentatively moving next to her horn. “But I figured you’d appreciate the rest, and I somehow doubt you’d share the Apple’s predilection for pushing pounds of pasture past…” Doug trails off, fingers thrumming on her head. He sighs as he can’t come up with anything. “Into your mouth.”

“A valiant attempt,” Rarity says, eagerly accepting the second bite of salad. “I dare say, with a little practice you could give Pinkie Pie a run for her bits.”

“That’s not going to summon her here, now is it?” Doug melodramatically looks around, a hand guarding against the sun as he scans around. “Aggressive alliterative affrays aren’t all about amusement.”

“Agreed,” Rarity says mirthfully, pushing her body against Doug’s, though she looses a heavy sigh. My legs are sure to be sore during the walk back. And the longer we wait, the cooler they’ll get, and the worse it’ll be. She groans as she rolls to her side, legs stretching awkwardly without the use of her horn.

“Feeling okay?” Doug says, shifting the salad to the ground. The brief grimace on Rarity’s muzzle tells him everything. “I can try my hand at it, as it were.” He holds up a hand, waggling it back and forth with a jovial smile.

Rarity finds it a lot more alluring than he probably meant. “I suppose,” she agrees demurely, raising a foreleg into the air.

Doug sets the pencils into the salad container as his other hand grabs hold of Rarity’s foreleg, gently pulling it up and shifting her to a more comfortable position for him. “Applejack and Rainbow Dash really enjoy it,” he reassures, hands starting at her barrel and slowly moving up. Although I don’t know how much of Dash’s antics were to make me think she was into it. I doubt she’s that good an actress, just exaggerating.

Rarity has to roll over to stay relaxed, exposing her belly, her body facing away from him. Her neck keeps her head upright, afraid of stabbing him in the unfamiliar position. Until his legs stretch out and his hand gently pulls her head against his leg, horn at his side. It seems to make things easier on him, her weight a counterbalance against him toppling backwards, and he leans forward to vigorously assault the soreness in her legs. Rarity does her best to suppress her moans, especially when he swaps a hand to her other leg.

A mare could get used to this. Rarity lets a contented smile spread across her muzzle, even as she feels his member getting hard next to her, the occasional twinge pushing into her neck. She can hear the accelerating beat of his heart, though the slight grimace on his face hints to his true intentions not being so base. A beautiful mare in his lap, and he’s caressing her legs? I suppose I can forgive a little excitement. “You were saying something about a post-hole digger,” Rarity says, trying to distract him. “What is that?”

“It’s kind of like a spade,” Doug says, glad for the diversion. His hands continue moving up and down her legs, kneading at every knot of muscle he can find. “Well, two spades that you bolt together near the head to make a lever. You punch it into the ground, and pull the two handles apart to grab onto the dirt in the hole.”

“Mm,” Rarity says as she sinks into his lap, luxuriating as he reaches the tips of her hooves. His musk is quite alluring, his body a little slick from the day's exertion. Rather than stop his thumbs fiddle with her frogs while his fingers trace the outline of her shoes. I was considering taking Rare Find as my stallion, though not sight unseen. Rarity hesitates, her gaze trying to find his, but he’s too busy focusing on her hooves. Would I take him as mine? I have enjoyed the short amount of time we’ve been together. But, would he want me as his mare? If family is so important to him, and we are unable to make manifest that desire?

“It lets you dig smaller, narrower holes deeper into the ground than the spade,” Doug continues, turning Rarity’s hoof this way and that. Amazing how the color of her coat continues all the way to the hoof, and her shoes are even dyed to blend in. I wonder if the hoof is the same way, or if it’s natural. “And since we’re not trying to unearth an entire treasure chest, just a handful of gems, it might speed up the process.” He gently lets her hooves go, watching them slowly settle against the prone mare. “You want me to do your back legs?”

Perhaps that answers that question. “S-sure,” Rarity replies with a touch of trepidation. Her body twists, glad she is on the grass and not the dirt, though her coat will require at the very least a long bath no matter what surface she lays on. And her mane, already matted with sweat, will need to be redone regardless. She gulps as she completes her one eighty, her head lifting up to gaze steadily at him. Her hind legs spread as they reach towards him, her coiled tail covering her most intimate parts and splaying across her belly. But, would Applejack want me in the herd? Wouldn’t she rather keep it all earth ponies, as most mares do?

“Relax,” Doug commands, one hand lightly slapping at her flank as the other grabs hold of her leg. His knee bends, his foot pushing his member to the side before it can get any ideas. He drags her the last couple inches until her rump rests against his crossed leg. At least that barrier is between us. His hands start in the middle of her large thighs, slowly moving up to her hooves, before dropping almost to her dock and starting their motions upwards again. Lot of tension here. As expected, much larger muscles, though certainly not as toned as Applejack or Rainbow, not even close. I wonder if she counts as voluptuous or not.

Rarity doesn’t bother to hide her moans this time, her head dropping to the ground as her body nearly goes limp. It feels wonderful, those voids he calls hands driving away the aches and rigors of the day. It’s not quite the same as Aloe or Lotus working her over, his methods unrefined and crude but no less effective. It does take her body a little longer to recover, but right now it feels like they have all the time in the world. And I would like it, very much so, to stay that way.

Doug’s fingers dig into the mare’s thighs a third time, then a fourth, finally feeling like it’s as good as it’s going to get. He travels up her legs, the remaining muscles barely needing more than a quick pass. He stops on her hooves, again rubbing into the soft frogs. He grins when it feels like she squeezes back, though a glance down reveals something unexpected.

Rarity’s tail slowly shifts, gently gliding down her belly until it flips past Doug’s legs, tickling his swiftly growing manhood as she reveals herself. “Would you like to keep going?” she calmly asks, her head leaning forward to carefully watch his reaction. His hands merely hold onto her legs, keeping her spread apart as he stares at her hidden marehood. She gulps when she doesn’t see a positive reaction; in fact, he seems to have frozen up. Tartarus take you, Rarity, you’ve gone and ruined it!

“I think,” Doug says quietly, not willing to move a muscle, “that I would give you the same answer I gave Rainbow Dash.”

A frown crosses Rarity’s face. I know I smelled the pegasus on him before, but she made the same offer?

Doug chuckles to himself, an inside joke Rarity doesn’t quite get. “Well, maybe I’ll get more words out this time.” He pauses to take a deep breath. “Rarity, I think you’re beautiful, and a wonderful mare. I want to... I want to keep going, pound away at those lovely flanks of yours. But I shouldn’t.”

A light tug releases Rarity’s hooves from Doug’s hands. She gets up as his arms fall to his sides, hands resting in his lap. She turns around, muzzle dropping low to peer into his downcast eyes. “Whyever not?” she softly demands, staring up at his gloomy expression. “Are you worried about what Applejack would say?” Her muzzle twists to a slight scowl. If that mudpony thinks us hornbrains aren’t good enough for her herd, then-

“No,” Doug says, though his mouth immediately pulls to a thin line. “I’m not exactly sure. But I don’t think she’d have a problem with it.” She said she wouldn’t limit me to the farm. That seems like it would include the herd.

“Stallions have the same right as mares to propose new members to the herd,” Rarity explains, a hoof lightly rubbing along Doug’s thigh. “So, if you don’t think Applejack would be opposed, then…”

Doug snorts exasperatedly, a hand covering his face while his eyes close. “It’s not that,” he mutters. Rarity’s head slightly cocks to the side, confusion showing. “It’s that this is moving way too fast! You’re not supposed to have sex on the first date, much less get married! I barely know you, and you me! If that’s the norm in Equestria, then it’s ridiculous!”

Rarity slowly nods. So he’s not saying no, he’s saying not yet. “While perhaps the initial formation of a herd might take some time, after it’s started they tend to… fill up rather quickly. Friends inviting friends, and so on. After all, Applejack must think you are sire material. And I trust her judgement of character.” Even though we may disagree on other topics.

“What happened with Applejack…” Doug trails off, hand coming down from his face to rest on Rarity’s neck. “I’m not going to say it was a mistake. I don’t know how things would be had that night gone differently. But I don’t want to take that same chance again, even if I think you’d be a pretty good candidate.” His fingers trace light lines along her mane, quickly digging in deeper before pulling the mare against him, hugging her tight. “And the whole polygamy thing is quite the shift, too.” Doug sighs, “Granted, that’s another cultural change, but it’s still a radical one. How am I going to give you and Applejack the time you deserve?”

“I assure you, us mares are quite independent.” Rarity returns the hug, taking another deep inhale of his musk. “I am sure we will make do.” Her smile briefly turns into a frown as she pulls away. “But the cultural shift; Doug, I must apologize.” She bows her head, trying to avoid staring at his crotch. “I should have taken into account how disorienting this whole experience must be for you. Any tokens of familiarity you can grasp hold of, that might make your… well, transition into living in Equestria easier, you should keep. If you would like, I can make you that pair of pants.”

Doug smiles. “I appreciate the sentiment, I do. At the same time, I think you were right initially. The more I can do to fit in, without compromising my core beliefs, the better. And, honestly, going without pants is quite, well, freeing. As long as I’m not too cold. Though I do miss pockets.”

“Hmm,” Rarity says, eyeing the single strap bag Doug brought along. “Perhaps I can make some sort of pack for you to wear. Similar to saddlebags.”

“Like a backpack? Sounds great,” Doug returns happily.

“Would you like some sort of symbol on it?” Rarity glances at his flank. “Perhaps one of Applejack’s apples? Or, if you don’t mind the free advertising, one of my diamonds?” Her muzzle pulls to a wide grin.

“How about...” Doug says, stroking his chin for a moment. “Okay, here we go. A green circle, surrounded by seven other circles colored, starting at the top and going clockwise, blue, red, orange, yellow, brown, black, and white.”

“Certainly doable,” Rarity says, nuzzling next to him and glad their friendship isn’t ruined by her untimely advance. “What does it mean?”

“Trust me,” Doug says with a shake of his head, “you don’t want to find out. If you’re unlucky,” he gamely pokes her in the side, “you just might.”

Next Chapter: Ch. 32 - Angler's Plait Estimated time remaining: 11 Hours, 57 Minutes