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# Anon - 3, 2, 1, Moon Dust!

By: mothpone on Apr 28th, 2014 | syntax: None | size: 15.88 KB | views: 154 | expires: Never
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1. >You wake up early in the morning to an odd sound you've never heard before
2. >Your mind barely is able to make out what it is but it's very close to you
3. >Looking down against your chest, you see your playmate Moon Dust sleeping against your chest with his forehooves wrapped around your waist and his round nose twitching back and forth
4. >He was certainly asleep but he was making some kind of squeaking noise in his sleep
5. >You examine him for a few moments while his round nose twitched and his antennae flicked lightly
6. >You had to resist waking up your cute mothpony mate but you simply stroke his mane which makes him squeak a little more
7. >You decide to touch his twitchy nose which he scrunches his nose in response to it and holds against your body tighter, continuing to squeak.
8. >Well, seemed like you were going to have to wait for him to wake up; until then, you laid back down and listened to the soft moth noises your sleepy lover made.
10. >You laid back down and listened to the soft moth noises your sleepy lover made.
11. >Well... you were *almost* lovers, at least. You had love for one another. You'd made promises.
12. >And he'd given you a massage, for crying out loud! That makes it pretty official...
13. >...
14. >You still feel warm from earlier. You're not sure the feeling is going to go away. Pretty strange magic.
15. >You wonder if all mothponies could do what Moon Dust had to cause you this feeling, but you aren't sure.
16. >Moon Dust was not the most confident pony, and had purportedly never been in the sack with someone else before...
17. >Despite this lack of forwardness and also experience, you think he would have named the process you went through if he could have.
18. >...If this sort of thing were every-time between significant others it would have been common knowledge.
19. >Since he had not known very much, you begin to think it was something unique you'd both experienced together.
20. >You have trouble not smiling gently to yourself.
21. >...
22. >You wonder if he always does the little squeaky sort of snore thing, or if it's just for today.
23. >You would't mind if it were either one, really.
24. >After some time, Moon Dust stirred again and for a moment looked up at you unfocusing, still with that blurry, drowsy look of contentedness, in his expression.
25. >You remember how cats did this when dozing, occasionally regaining a touch of consciousness enough to express that they noticed you.
26. >You fully expect him to drift back off to sleep again, as is typical of the feline version of this gesture of sleepily "saying 'hi."
27. >It may have just be striking him now that he isn't sleeping alone tonight... or something.
28. >His faint, dazed smile grows into a grin as something occurs to him.
29. >You are a bit worried and your own smile fades, as if some Hamiltonian laws of Smile Conservation are now in effect.
31. >He snirks as he wiggles a bit. He's just getting comfortable again.
32. >This is alright. You're not really tired but you're sure you'll get there before too long.
33. >You're at this, but you find yourself happy to be taking it slow together, giving yourselves time to click first before...
34. >It's taking him a long time to achieve a good position and he's right on your...
35. >He seems to read your mind as you realize, and he locks eyes with your for a second. He knows exactly where he is and what he's doing.
36. "M-moondust. I have to help Amata and Hexferry tomo-"
37. >He repositions himself again vigorously. You collect yourself to finish your sentence.
38. "I'm helping Amata and Hex in the morning so I have to be up early. Maybe we should just wait until aft-"
39. >In one motion, he tugs down your slacks and pulls himself up to your lips by your shoulders, cutting off what you were saying.
40. >His tongue rolls into yours. He teases right at the back of your throat. You're quite convinced you'll gag but he just keeps you right on the edge.
41. >Him doing so introduces the strangest tingle in your mouth. You barely feel it as he begins to rub you with the front part of his rear pastern and fetlock between your legs.
42. >He wraps his tongue several times around yours in a corkscrew shape, immobilizing it still for a second.
43. >The tip of his hoof teases you to twitching in this moment.
44. >Gradually, he drives your tongue all the way into your soft palate at the back of your throat, and holds it there.
45. >An airy, slowish purring issues from his throat, which rises in volume slowly.
46. >You blush hot as he lips wetly down around your philtrum and the commissures of your mouth, covering your lips with his with a drunken sort of giggle.
47. >Somehow, he's able to do this little laugh without stopping the rustling idle of his purring.
49. >He doodles you back and forth with the broad wall of his hoof before pushing himself up from your chest a bit
50. >He stops and lets you settle for about a second before stomping down, and grinding firmly on your bits with the central part of his sole between the frog's point and the white line.
51. >You grunt into his muzzle awkwardly, not really able to deliver a reasonable sound given the pair of tongues blocking the back of your throat.
52. >Gradually, his hoof's ministrations simmer to a firm and rhythmic rubbing not far below your navel. You feel the echo of your throbs against his sole.
53. >If a steamroller could be made as smooth as silk without reducing its power, you think this is about what it would feel like.
54. >You're breathing pretty fast by now.
55. >Raising his head, he pulls on your tongue with his, stretching yours a little out of your mouth, as if reeling in a fish or a small shark, almost.
56. >It's... a /new/ experience to say the least.
57. >Both your mouths are open. You expected there to be a lot of drool everywhere by now but noticed that there isn't. In fact, your mouth and tongue are quite dry, though not completely cottony.
58. >You squint through the thickening veil of pleasure settling on you from both the actions of Moony's rear hoof against you, and also the boisterous flow of signals coming from your tongue's proprioceptive spindles...
59. >You aren't 100% certain, but you're pretty sure he is drinking your spit -- like his tongue is just kind of sponging it up somehow.
60. >Nicely, he isn't being greedy about it, and appears to be leaving you a thin but still-comfortable layer of moisture. He knows you too well, it seems.
61. /Fuck, this is weird./
62. >Maintaining the radius formed by your extended tongue, Moon Dust lays himself flat on your chest. He now tugs rhythmically on you with the hale corkscrew in this assumedly novel form of oralingus.
63. >You lift your head a bit and keep it tilted forward slightly so the pull on your tongue doesn't become uncomfortable.
65. >With the additional reach his new position lower down on your chest affords him, pone now clasps you between both rear hooves and slides them gently back and forth, in opposite directions.
66. >With his forehooves, he rubs in slow, sensuous circles just beneath your clavicles, then up both sides of your neck where he rubs and squeezes there tenderly before repeating the process.
67. >You roughly pant out a hot breath that you'd *apparently* been holding. Normally, in this situation, you'd /blow/ it out, really, but that kinda requires your tongue to be inside your mouth, so, that was a no-go.
68. >He keeps at it with all of his limbs, with his odd purring all the while. Your eyes slowly close as you loose yourself in it
69. >Suddenly, you wince and your eyes shoot open. He'd just pinched you briefly with his hind hooves. Apparently on purpose, as he winks when you look at him questioningly.
70. >You would explain that there was no need to pinch you as there is no way you would be falling asleep at this point, however you are forcibly tongue-tied. You manage to successfully roll your eyes at him.
71. >In response, he lifts his forelimbs off your neck and chest and flutters his wings and gain some elevation. You grunt and are forces to lean up as he leads you by your tongue to the higher position.
72. >He giggles and lets both you and himself back down to flat as he decreases the speed of his wingbeats
73. >He gives you an extra squeeze down below, making you jerk from the impulse. He gives one more long, excruciatingly pleasureful pull on your tongue before releasing it from his
74. >You had been naturally pulling back against him the whole time, and you notice the muscle is now exhausted. If you open your mouth much it lawls out limply, with no strength left in it.
75. >You settle for air through your nose and shallow breaths through your mouth to prevent this from happening.
76. >You probably can't talk in this state.... Hexferry is going to have an absolute ball making fun of you tomorrow.
78. >Moon Dust wraps his forehooves around the back of your head and hugs you against the ruff of his chest, his hind hooves still working their magic.
79. >You breathe in the dry, powdery smell of him, engulfed in the soft poofyness of his torso. The fluff tickles you just inside of your nose.
80. >You reach up and hug him around his shoulders, drawing him just that much closer. He squeezes you back tighter in response.
81. >His hooves change position and he is now rubbing you alternatively under one sole and with the tip of his hoof. First one, then back.
82. >The other is planted lower down your body, extended sole-up, its wall squishing into your- well- *you*, and fidgeting arhythmically, which is driving you crazy - in a good way, mostly.
83. >Being this close to him in his poof makes you feel light-headed, for some reason...
84. >You smile stupidly. He is the sexiest thing /ever/ and he just so HAPPENS TO LIKE YOU, and also to BE ON TOP OF YOU doing... things.
85. >Finally, you feel a creeping sensation at your sternum. Lost in the fluff of his front, you can't see anything, but then it occurs to you -- Moon Dust is getting it up!
86. >Moon Dust pauses now, which allows you to catch your breath for a little. You didn't know it could, but his purring once more gains a level in intensity.
87. >Up against his chest it's really loud now. You wonder if it's some multiple of his heart beat or something. Almost sounds like it.
88. >Meanwhile, he somewhat idly rocks the more-extended of his two rear hooves, circumducting the limb and rolling his hoof wall against you.
89. >This bit of teasing has the effect of keeping you stirred up.
90. >After a few moments, his aedeagus (or whatever it is) bumps the underside of your chin. You can tell just by feel that he's quite the stallion.
91. >He repositions himself presently into an upright sitting position most of the way up your sternum, facing away from you, lower legs extended. You still haven't seen his... what was it called again?
93. >Soon enough, you don't much care. His tail is flicking back and forth actively, making you squint as it flicks stands of hair into your face.
94. >You reach up to his hips and slide around slowly on either side to rub his belly, which he puffs out for you happily.
95. >The annoying tail flicking promptly stops and is replaced by little twitches of his wings from time to time, which occasionally causes some dust to float down.
96. >You blink at it when this happens, but it doesn't appear to irritate your eyes or airways. Before long you are paying no attention to it.
97. >Moon Dust puts one forehoof behind him and sets it on your shoulder for balance, allowing him to stretch his hind hooves a little bit further forward.
98. >You feel the pressure of his hock-joint on your chest as he sets to work on you some more.
99. >The pressure of his sole is you again. You swallow.
100. >From the way his weight's distributed, you're guessing his other hoof is crossed over the top of the other as he-
101. >You breathe. This is the first time he's used his frog on you so far. It's an amazing cross between soft and rough, pliable and firm.
102. >He's now hitting you right on the money-spot with it, (plantar)flexing his hoof slightly at the coffin-joint to get a better angle from where he was. Sweat beads on you swiftly.
103. >You throw your head back into the pillow squeeze your eyes shut. Moon Dust switches hooves a few times playfully, letting the other rest just over top of whichever one is active, seemingly enjoying himself.
105. >You manage to keep rubbing weak circles into his belly, but he can probably tell he's gotten you close by now. He halts for a second.
106. >With his free forehoof, he experimentally presses his shaft into the back of your hand as you rub his belly, holding it like that.
107. >You're not sure what to expect. A moment passes, and he just laughs happily, releases your hand and goes back to what he was doing, now working on with both hooves, mostly using the medial sides of his soles to knead away.
108. >Occasionally, he pinches you a bit between the outer walls of his hooves. Just enough to make you twitch under him, really.
109. >This is it. There is no turning back, now. Your mental capacity reminds you of the look of a passing metro train -- bright and blurry, fast, segmented, and well- you are about out of words for it at this point.
110. >Moon Dust slows down slides his foot forward, steadying the sensitive knob of flesh with with the anteriormost tip of his hoof. From above, he presses with his sole, using the edge just inside the hoof wall as a backstop.
111. >Time is still. He's like a conductor who has just ascended the podium. All is silent.
112. >Then, just holding the lower one steady against you, he almost flicks at you with the upper hoof, brushing its underside over your most-sensitive point.
113. >A pressure grows within the frontal plate of your skull. More little beads of sweat. More fluttering of those gorgeous wings above you.
114. >Your heart lurches. It knows just as well as you do what's next, but it's cross with you that it's headed your way so slowly, because it was also going pack a real wallop.
115. >You were young... ish. You told it to settle down.
116. >Another glancing flick of the same kind, across you. And again. Light as a feather, practically... but /precise./
117. >Again, now. A full second or so in between these little strokes, you guess. You suspect there might be a clock ticking in the room but all is drowned out by the flutter of Moon Dust's purring.
119. >Again. More complaining from various other body parts. It seems your brain was going to find a way to fabricate you a hangover if this kept up.
120. >Again. Again now, that same light brushing and brief bump of the inner side of the hoof wall against you.
121. >You aren't rubbing Moony's belly anymore at this point, more like just gripping into it for dear life.
122. >He quickens his pace to about one touch every 3/4 of a second and holds that rate.
123. >You are snorting now with every breath.
124. >Each of those little brutish touches of this impish pony's hoof.... It's torture. Torture you wouldn't trade. Not for anything.
125. >Each breath you breathe becomes shorter, more desperate, more staccato. All those little tendons in your neck convulsing individually.
126. >Your heart rate syncs with the motion of that hoof. The world condenses down to just that one little point, that one small action from this churring lifeform on top of you.
127. >His tail flicks you in the face again. You throw your head forward. Touch. Touch. Touch.
128. >That was it.
129. >You clutch Moony in both arms as that wave crashes over you.
130. >You pull him back to you. He wants to tease you throughout your throes but you don't let him; his ministrations are too cruel, too kind, too-
131. >Words fail you a second time. For a moment, your heart is smaller, timid. Your heart not your own but Moon Dust's, which has replaced yours.
132. >You're not sure where yours has gone but it is away. You hug with all your strength, which -- you feel -- is none.
133. >These tears are molten. You are scared, unrelaxed, defeated, crumpled-up, and self-destructing. No different from day-to-day but-
134. >You don't know. You are racked with these impulses, too overwhelming to count or measure, all the raw emotion within you burned up to the surface at once.
135. >You hug.
137. >You hug. Someone hugs back.
138. >And gradually...
139. >*Gradually*...
140. >The horror stops.
141. >Moon Dust has laid himself down next to you and cuddles into you warmly.
142. >Your heart is still thumping.
143. >You thank the Heavens for him -- this little fuzzball that had just reduced you to ashes with his care --
144. >You thank the Heavens.

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>You wake up early in the morning to an odd sound you've never heard before >Your mind barely is able to make out what it is but it's very close to you >Looking down against your chest, you see your playmate Moon Dust sleeping against your chest with his forehooves wrapped around your waist and his round nose twitching back and forth >He was certainly asleep but he was making some kind of squeaking noise in his sleep >You examine him for a few moments while his round nose twitched and his antennae flicked lightly >You had to resist waking up your cute mothpony mate but you simply stroke his mane which makes him squeak a little more >You decide to touch his twitchy nose which he scrunches his nose in response to it and holds against your body tighter, continuing to squeak. >Well, seemed like you were going to have to wait for him to wake up; until then, you laid back down and listened to the soft moth noises your sleepy lover made. >You laid back down and listened to the soft moth noises your sleepy lover made. >Well... you were *almost* lovers, at least. You had love for one another. You'd made promises. >And he'd given you a massage, for crying out loud! That makes it pretty official... >... >You still feel warm from earlier. You're not sure the feeling is going to go away. Pretty strange magic. >You wonder if all mothponies could do what Moon Dust had to cause you this feeling, but you aren't sure. >Moon Dust was not the most confident pony, and had purportedly never been in the sack with someone else before... >Despite this lack of forwardness and also experience, you think he would have named the process you went through if he could have. >...If this sort of thing were every-time between significant others it would have been common knowledge. >Since he had not known very much, you begin to think it was something unique you'd both experienced together. >You have trouble not smiling gently to yourself. >... >You wonder if he always does the little squeaky sort of snore thing, or if it's just for today. >You would't mind if it were either one, really. >After some time, Moon Dust stirred again and for a moment looked up at you unfocusing, still with that blurry, drowsy look of contentedness, in his expression. >You remember how cats did this when dozing, occasionally regaining a touch of consciousness enough to express that they noticed you. >You fully expect him to drift back off to sleep again, as is typical of the feline version of this gesture of sleepily "saying 'hi." >It may have just be striking him now that he isn't sleeping alone tonight... or something. >His faint, dazed smile grows into a grin as something occurs to him. >You are a bit worried and your own smile fades, as if some Hamiltonian laws of Smile Conservation are now in effect. >He snirks as he wiggles a bit. He's just getting comfortable again. >This is alright. You're not really tired but you're sure you'll get there before too long. >You're at this, but you find yourself happy to be taking it slow together, giving yourselves time to click first before... >It's taking him a long time to achieve a good position and he's right on your... >He seems to read your mind as you realize, and he locks eyes with your for a second. He knows exactly where he is and what he's doing. "M-moondust. I have to help Amata and Hexferry tomo-" >He repositions himself again vigorously. You collect yourself to finish your sentence. "I'm helping Amata and Hex in the morning so I have to be up early. Maybe we should just wait until aft-" >In one motion, he tugs down your slacks and pulls himself up to your lips by your shoulders, cutting off what you were saying. >His tongue rolls into yours. He teases right at the back of your throat. You're quite convinced you'll gag but he just keeps you right on the edge. >Him doing so introduces the strangest tingle in your mouth. You barely feel it as he begins to rub you with the front part of his rear pastern and fetlock between your legs. >He wraps his tongue several times around yours in a corkscrew shape, immobilizing it still for a second. >The tip of his hoof teases you to twitching in this moment. >Gradually, he drives your tongue all the way into your soft palate at the back of your throat, and holds it there. >An airy, slowish purring issues from his throat, which rises in volume slowly. >You blush hot as he lips wetly down around your philtrum and the commissures of your mouth, covering your lips with his with a drunken sort of giggle. >Somehow, he's able to do this little laugh without stopping the rustling idle of his purring. >He doodles you back and forth with the broad wall of his hoof before pushing himself up from your chest a bit >He stops and lets you settle for about a second before stomping down, and grinding firmly on your bits with the central part of his sole between the frog's point and the white line. >You grunt into his muzzle awkwardly, not really able to deliver a reasonable sound given the pair of tongues blocking the back of your throat. >Gradually, his hoof's ministrations simmer to a firm and rhythmic rubbing not far below your navel. You feel the echo of your throbs against his sole. >If a steamroller could be made as smooth as silk without reducing its power, you think this is about what it would feel like. >You're breathing pretty fast by now. >Raising his head, he pulls on your tongue with his, stretching yours a little out of your mouth, as if reeling in a fish or a small shark, almost. >It's... a /new/ experience to say the least. >Both your mouths are open. You expected there to be a lot of drool everywhere by now but noticed that there isn't. In fact, your mouth and tongue are quite dry, though not completely cottony. >You squint through the thickening veil of pleasure settling on you from both the actions of Moony's rear hoof against you, and also the boisterous flow of signals coming from your tongue's proprioceptive spindles... >You aren't 100% certain, but you're pretty sure he is drinking your spit -- like his tongue is just kind of sponging it up somehow. >Nicely, he isn't being greedy about it, and appears to be leaving you a thin but still-comfortable layer of moisture. He knows you too well, it seems. /Fuck, this is weird./ >Maintaining the radius formed by your extended tongue, Moon Dust lays himself flat on your chest. He now tugs rhythmically on you with the hale corkscrew in this assumedly novel form of oralingus. >You lift your head a bit and keep it tilted forward slightly so the pull on your tongue doesn't become uncomfortable. >With the additional reach his new position lower down on your chest affords him, pone now clasps you between both rear hooves and slides them gently back and forth, in opposite directions. >With his forehooves, he rubs in slow, sensuous circles just beneath your clavicles, then up both sides of your neck where he rubs and squeezes there tenderly before repeating the process. >You roughly pant out a hot breath that you'd *apparently* been holding. Normally, in this situation, you'd /blow/ it out, really, but that kinda requires your tongue to be inside your mouth, so, that was a no-go. >He keeps at it with all of his limbs, with his odd purring all the while. Your eyes slowly close as you loose yourself in it >Suddenly, you wince and your eyes shoot open. He'd just pinched you briefly with his hind hooves. Apparently on purpose, as he winks when you look at him questioningly. >You would explain that there was no need to pinch you as there is no way you would be falling asleep at this point, however you are forcibly tongue-tied. You manage to successfully roll your eyes at him. >In response, he lifts his forelimbs off your neck and chest and flutters his wings and gain some elevation. You grunt and are forces to lean up as he leads you by your tongue to the higher position. >He giggles and lets both you and himself back down to flat as he decreases the speed of his wingbeats >He gives you an extra squeeze down below, making you jerk from the impulse. He gives one more long, excruciatingly pleasureful pull on your tongue before releasing it from his >You had been naturally pulling back against him the whole time, and you notice the muscle is now exhausted. If you open your mouth much it lawls out limply, with no strength left in it. >You settle for air through your nose and shallow breaths through your mouth to prevent this from happening. >You probably can't talk in this state.... Hexferry is going to have an absolute ball making fun of you tomorrow. >Moon Dust wraps his forehooves around the back of your head and hugs you against the ruff of his chest, his hind hooves still working their magic. >You breathe in the dry, powdery smell of him, engulfed in the soft poofyness of his torso. The fluff tickles you just inside of your nose. >You reach up and hug him around his shoulders, drawing him just that much closer. He squeezes you back tighter in response. >His hooves change position and he is now rubbing you alternatively under one sole and with the tip of his hoof. First one, then back. >The other is planted lower down your body, extended sole-up, its wall squishing into your- well- *you*, and fidgeting arhythmically, which is driving you crazy - in a good way, mostly. >Being this close to him in his poof makes you feel light-headed, for some reason... >You smile stupidly. He is the sexiest thing /ever/ and he just so HAPPENS TO LIKE YOU, and also to BE ON TOP OF YOU doing... things. >Finally, you feel a creeping sensation at your sternum. Lost in the fluff of his front, you can't see anything, but then it occurs to you -- Moon Dust is getting it up! >Moon Dust pauses now, which allows you to catch your breath for a little. You didn't know it could, but his purring once more gains a level in intensity. >Up against his chest it's really loud now. You wonder if it's some multiple of his heart beat or something. Almost sounds like it. >Meanwhile, he somewhat idly rocks the more-extended of his two rear hooves, circumducting the limb and rolling his hoof wall against you. >This bit of teasing has the effect of keeping you stirred up. >After a few moments, his aedeagus (or whatever it is) bumps the underside of your chin. You can tell just by feel that he's quite the stallion. >He repositions himself presently into an upright sitting position most of the way up your sternum, facing away from you, lower legs extended. You still haven't seen his... what was it called again? >Soon enough, you don't much care. His tail is flicking back and forth actively, making you squint as it flicks stands of hair into your face. >You reach up to his hips and slide around slowly on either side to rub his belly, which he puffs out for you happily. >The annoying tail flicking promptly stops and is replaced by little twitches of his wings from time to time, which occasionally causes some dust to float down. >You blink at it when this happens, but it doesn't appear to irritate your eyes or airways. Before long you are paying no attention to it. >Moon Dust puts one forehoof behind him and sets it on your shoulder for balance, allowing him to stretch his hind hooves a little bit further forward. >You feel the pressure of his hock-joint on your chest as he sets to work on you some more. >The pressure of his sole is you again. You swallow. >From the way his weight's distributed, you're guessing his other hoof is crossed over the top of the other as he- >You breathe. This is the first time he's used his frog on you so far. It's an amazing cross between soft and rough, pliable and firm. >He's now hitting you right on the money-spot with it, (plantar)flexing his hoof slightly at the coffin-joint to get a better angle from where he was. Sweat beads on you swiftly. >You throw your head back into the pillow squeeze your eyes shut. Moon Dust switches hooves a few times playfully, letting the other rest just over top of whichever one is active, seemingly enjoying himself. >You manage to keep rubbing weak circles into his belly, but he can probably tell he's gotten you close by now. He halts for a second. >With his free forehoof, he experimentally presses his shaft into the back of your hand as you rub his belly, holding it like that. >You're not sure what to expect. A moment passes, and he just laughs happily, releases your hand and goes back to what he was doing, now working on with both hooves, mostly using the medial sides of his soles to knead away. >Occasionally, he pinches you a bit between the outer walls of his hooves. Just enough to make you twitch under him, really. >This is it. There is no turning back, now. Your mental capacity reminds you of the look of a passing metro train -- bright and blurry, fast, segmented, and well- you are about out of words for it at this point. >Moon Dust slows down slides his foot forward, steadying the sensitive knob of flesh with with the anteriormost tip of his hoof. From above, he presses with his sole, using the edge just inside the hoof wall as a backstop. >Time is still. He's like a conductor who has just ascended the podium. All is silent. >Then, just holding the lower one steady against you, he almost flicks at you with the upper hoof, brushing its underside over your most-sensitive point. >A pressure grows within the frontal plate of your skull. More little beads of sweat. More fluttering of those gorgeous wings above you. >Your heart lurches. It knows just as well as you do what's next, but it's cross with you that it's headed your way so slowly, because it was also going pack a real wallop. >You were young... ish. You told it to settle down. >Another glancing flick of the same kind, across you. And again. Light as a feather, practically... but /precise./ >Again, now. A full second or so in between these little strokes, you guess. You suspect there might be a clock ticking in the room but all is drowned out by the flutter of Moon Dust's purring. >Again. More complaining from various other body parts. It seems your brain was going to find a way to fabricate you a hangover if this kept up. >Again. Again now, that same light brushing and brief bump of the inner side of the hoof wall against you. >You aren't rubbing Moony's belly anymore at this point, more like just gripping into it for dear life. >He quickens his pace to about one touch every 3/4 of a second and holds that rate. >You are snorting now with every breath. >Each of those little brutish touches of this impish pony's hoof.... It's torture. Torture you wouldn't trade. Not for anything. >Each breath you breathe becomes shorter, more desperate, more staccato. All those little tendons in your neck convulsing individually. >Your heart rate syncs with the motion of that hoof. The world condenses down to just that one little point, that one small action from this churring lifeform on top of you. >His tail flicks you in the face again. You throw your head forward. Touch. Touch. Touch. >That was it. >You clutch Moony in both arms as that wave crashes over you. >You pull him back to you. He wants to tease you throughout your throes but you don't let him; his ministrations are too cruel, too kind, too- >Words fail you a second time. For a moment, your heart is smaller, timid. Your heart not your own but Moon Dust's, which has replaced yours. >You're not sure where yours has gone but it is away. You hug with all your strength, which -- you feel -- is none. >These tears are molten. You are scared, unrelaxed, defeated, crumpled-up, and self-destructing. No different from day-to-day but- >You don't know. You are racked with these impulses, too overwhelming to count or measure, all the raw emotion within you burned up to the surface at once. >You hug. >You hug. Someone hugs back. >And gradually... >*Gradually*... >The horror stops. >Moon Dust has laid himself down next to you and cuddles into you warmly. >Your heart is still thumping. >You thank the Heavens for him -- this little fuzzball that had just reduced you to ashes with his care -- >You thank the Heavens.