The End of the Rainbow


                                            >“No way he would’ve won if he’d made the final turn!”

                                            “All I’m saying is you were tied for the lead up until that point.”

                                            >”I wasn’t even trying! I was conserving my energy for the other races I have this week.”

                                            >You and your prismatic companion turn some heads as your charged conversation carries down the street on your way back to your apartment.

                                            >Both Rainbow Dash and yourself were in need of a place to relax and recharge after a day full of competitions, and cheering as far as you were concerned.

                                            >You run a finger up the pony’s back as she trots next to you.

                                            >It leaves a trail of raised cyan fur and makes her spine wiggle with delight.

                                            >”Heh! Quit it!” She giggles and sidesteps.

                                            “If you weren’t trying then what’s all this, then?”

                                            >You hold up your finger, glistening with moisture.

                                            >”Oh come on…you know I sweat a lot. It’s a pegasus thing it happens when I walk to the fridge for crying out loud.”

                                            >She wasn’t lying.

                                            >Pegasi had a crazy amount of sweat glands when compared to other ponies. It was designed to keep them cool while flying, but your couch didn’t love it.

                                            >Luckily for you, it’s not nearly as bad as it sounds.

                                            >She kinda smelled like pumpkin spice and thunderstorm.

                                            >But more tart?

                                            >Regardless, you weren’t about to tease her about something outside of her control.

                                            >Your friendship was beyond trivial things like that.

                                            “Fair enough, I suppose you did win in the end anyways.”

                                            >”Of course I won! When have I ever not won something I said I was going to win?”

                                            >You sigh, despite not being disappointed in the slightest.

                                            “Never.”

                                            >”See? You just gotta have a little faith. Then you’d stop losing bets like this.”

                                            >She trots on through your front door like she owns the place.

                                            >Her chipper attitude somehow made it feel like losing to her was a win for you.

                                            >Somehow you just can’t imagine her not feeling like she’s on top of the world.

                                            >You prefer her that way.

                                            >The minor sacrifice of losing a bet was a price you willingly paid.

                                            >”Is there something on my face?”

                                            >She bats at her mane and you realize you’d been staring.

                                            “Oh…no, no you’re fine. I was just thinking.”

                                            >She stops fidgeting and eyes you warily.

                                            >She thinks about teasing you, but eventually tucks her ears and turns away with a soft smile.

                                            >”Alright, where are you hiding them?”

                                            >She trots into the kitchen, eager to collect on your promise.

                                            “The oreos are in the cabinet on the left.”

                                            >She takes flight, her wings ruffling loose kitchen towels as she hovers in the confined area.

                                            >Retrieving the brand new case of your favorite cookies, she chuckles to herself and navigates over to the living room where you waited with a crooked smile.

                                            “All yours, a fresh batch imported all the way from Manehatten.”

                                            >They weren’t exactly Oreos, but they looked and tasted just like them.

                                            >The real brand name was Cream Crackers but that just sounded lame.

                                            >Dash seemed to share your sentiment. She’d taken to calling them Oreos as well, along with saying a few other words you wished she hadn’t picked up on.

                                            >“All right! This is awesome.”

                                            >She opens the packaging and digs into her winning prize, two cookies at a time.

                                            >”Wah won?” She asks, spewing crumbs.

                                            “Sure, since you’re being so kind as to offer me my own cookies.”

                                            >She furrows her brow, plopping down on the couch next to you.

                                            >Furious chewing ensues as she affixes you with an expression that said to ‘hold that thought.’

                                            *gulp

                                            >”I won them-cough!...fair and square, you shouldn’t have bet on them if you didn’t wanna lose them!”

                                            “Alright, point taken.”

                                            >You toss the cookie in your mouth and throw up your hands in your defense.

                                            >At this, she relaxes.

                                            >That is, until she fidgets her rump.

                                            >You look down to see her grinding her legs and she wiggles again.

                                            >”What? I get itchy sometimes. No need to stare!”

                                            “I’m not, I just didn’t know what you were doing.”

                                            >She looks more flustered than irritated.

                                            >That was weird.

                                            “So do you wanna finish the—”

                                            >She does it again.

                                            >”Stop looking at me!”

                                            “Stop rubbing your butt on my couch!”

                                            >”I’m not rubbing my-mmmgh!” She grumbles, unable to finish the lie.

                                            “You are too!”

                                            >”Aww kiss my flank, Anon! You try walking around with a bunch of fur and not get itchy!”

                                            “I don’t care if you’re itchy, just don’t rub your butt on my couch!”

                                            >You can’t believe you’re having this conversation.

                                            “And no I don’t think I want to…not unless it gets you to stop.” You finish the jest, hoping she would stop.

                                            >You don’t doubt that she’s clean where it counts, but you take naps on this couch for pete's sake!

                                            >”Bet!”

                                            “Bet what?”

                                            >”Bet that you kiss my flank and I won’t scratch on your couch anymore!”

                                            “What? That’s not how bets work?”

                                            >She narrows her eyes at you and wiggles her rump again.

                                            “Alright alright alright! I’ll bet, just stop…this couch is brand new.”

                                            >She rolls her eyes.

                                            >”If you don’t wanna pay up just admit it and—”

                                            “--Oh no, I’ll pay up alright!”

                                            >For the first time since the conversation started, she realized that maybe she wasn’t ready to win this one.

                                            >”Y-you what?”

                                            >Her voice stutters, her eyes are wide.

                                            “I said I’ll pay up. I’ll kiss your flank so you’ll shutup about it!”

                                            >A cyan hoof rubs her opposite leg and she gulps nervously.

                                            >”Right. Yeah. That was the deal.”

                                            “It was the deal.”

                                            >You knew this was going a bit farther than either of you had intended, but you weren’t about to let her out of the hole she dug herself so easily.

                                            >You quirk a brow, waiting.

                                            >”Uh…my flank. Ok, no big deal.”

                                            >Her words are wasted trying to convince herself.

                                            >To be honest, you weren’t keen on kissing her butt, however, you weren’t exactly anxious about it.

                                            >She wasn’t a dude, and she was your best friend.

                                            >It felt no more foreboding than lifting a cup of hot coco to your lips the first time, not knowing if it was going to be too uncomfortable.

                                            >Worst case is that it’s unpleasant; that wouldn’t mean you couldn’t still enjoy the cup later.

                                            >Wait…that analogy wasn’t quite right.

                                            >You don’t have time to correct yourself, however.

                                            >A cyan rump posits in front of you, awaiting its kiss.

                                            >You glance at her.

                                            >She watches you intently, nostrils flared, “G-go ahead.”

                                            >Setting your sights on the flurry blue globe closest to you, you start to lean in.

                                            >The scent gets stronger, a zesty, sweaty, but familiar Dashy smell.

                                            >Nothing you didn’t expect.

                                            >Heat radiates off her posterior enough that you feel it still inches from her surface.

                                            >Your lips make contact and she stumbles, bumping into your nose before pulling away and forcing your lips to chase her.

                                            > They make landfall a second time and sink into her fur.

                                            >You taste a bit of saltiness, but that’s all you have to distract you from the pegasus’ hitched breathing.

                                            >That is, until a prismatic tail brushes past your cheek on its journey skyward.

                                            >You pull back and immediately catch sight of the skin-tone nakedness of her privates.

                                            “What the heck, did you really flag from a butt kiss?”

                                            >She blushes profusely.

                                            >”N-no I didn’t!”

                                            “Then what’s that?”

                                            >You nod accusingly at the still exposed butt crack.

                                            >She blushes even more and spins around, flicking her tail but failing to lower it.

                                            >”That’s just…I was lifting it on purpose so you could actually kiss my flank!”

                                            “I did kiss your flank, what are you talking about?”

                                            >The mare wanted to make a run for the border, but instead, she stays to fight for her dignity.

                                            >”You call that a flank kiss! A mare’s flank is under her tail doofus, or did you miss that in anatomy class?”

                                            “Dash your flank is like the butt part itself, like, the cheek. The gluteus maximus.”

                                            >”If that’s true then why is my flank still itchy after you kissed it?”

                                            “Because…uhh, just turn around…”

                                            >You sigh.

                                            >Surprisingly, she silently complies.

                                            >Mostly just for the opportunity to face away and hide her blush.

                                            >You'd just gone from taking a risky sip of hot coco, to taking a sip from a mug that was already too hot to hold onto.

                                            >But that wasn’t about to slow you down.

                                            >As long as you don’t really think about what you’re doing, it’s not that bad.

                                            >It’s like a spicy dare.

                                            >Just do it.

                                            >Grabbing her prismatic tail to hold it out of the way, you lean in, ignoring the fact that you’d never really seen her privates in detail like this before.

                                            >Your lips make contact against her hot anal ring and it immediately puckers under your kiss.

                                            >Dash stifles a mewl.

                                            >Not wanting to have to repeat this later, you make sure she feels your presence.

                                            >Your nose tucks into her musky dock crevice as your lips smooch her butthole through three bouts of pucker and release.

                                            >Thankfully, you taste nothing but her familiar sweat.

                                            >Weird that her sweat is a familiar taste, but that’s beside the point.

                                            *muah!

                                            >You pull away, releasing her tail and leaving her pink eye spasming under the sudden sensation of your moisture cooling off its surface.

                                            “There, now quit complaining.”

                                            >You wipe your mouth without really thinking about it.

                                            >Her tail stays hiked.

                                            >It’s then that you realize you’re just as flustered as the cyan face peering back at you with rosy cheeks and tucked ears.

                                            >”O-okay…”

                                            >She clenches and you can’t help but soak up an eyeful of her youthful-looking mareparts.

                                            >You gulp.

                                            “You can lower your tail now.”

                                            >Her tail flickers and she breaks her downward dog pose.

                                            >”Yeah. I knew that!”

                                            >She spins around in a tiny circle. Her wings awkwardly jut out at half-mast.

                                            >You knew full well what the signs meant, but you weren’t about to tease her about it.

                                            >That’s how you got into this mess to begin with.

                                            >Not to mention she’d always cut you slack with the occasional awkward boner during wrestling matches and whatnot.

                                            >As competitive as your friendship is, neither of you had any intentions of hurting one another.

                                            >A slug in the shoulder built camaraderie, but a strike on your ego just hurt.

                                            >As an egomaniac herself, Dash knew that pain all too well, and did her best to nurture your self-esteem when the occasion presented itself.

                                            >You were all too eager to reciprocate, of course.

                                            “Look out! Playpony of the year coming through over here!”

                                            >You compliment her unintentionally flared wing lines while making light of the suddenly heavy situation.

                                            >A shy smile breaks her face.

                                            >”Heh…y-yeah.”

                                            >A pegasus’ wings were their secondary sex characteristics, and hers were gorgeous. A fact you’d admitted noticing even as a member of a different species.

                                            >She wasn’t shy about her looks, she knew full well she was a head-turner, and she knew that you knew that.

                                            >But dealing with the signs of her own arousal in your living room was another story entirely.

                                            >There weren’t many excuses as to what or who caused it, and that took a toll on her confidence.

                                            >She sits there for a moment, her muzzle flushed, occasionally fidgeting with her slowly deflating wings.

                                            “Well, scratch that one off the bucket list!”

                                            >That earns a snicker from her.

                                            >”You got a weird bucket list.”

                                            “Nah, it wasn’t so bad.”

                                            >That grabs her attention.

                                            >”Whaddaya mean?”

                                            >You look at her.

                                            >She immediately back-tracks.

                                            >”I-I mean like, I thought it was, you know…I didn’t think you were actually going to.” She explains while pawing at her foreleg with her opposite hoof.

                                            “What can I say? You said I’ve got to stop losing bets so what better time to start than now?”

                                            >Her eyes fall from yours and she turns her attention towards her hooves, shuffling uncomfortably.

                                            >”Oh…y-yeah, heh.”

                                            >Her tone strikes a chord in your heart and you rush to fix it.

                                            “Hey, Dash.” You reach out and grab her foreleg.

                                            >Her ardent, magenta eyes captivate you.

                                            >Part of you was screaming to stop and not go any further down this rabbit trail.

                                            >But another part, the part you liked the sound of, was telling you to do whatever it took to lift your precious pegasus’ spirits.

                                            “It wasn’t the bet thing…I was just joking.”

                                            >Her breathing deepens and her eyes study your face for any sign of deceit.

                                            >There was none to be found.

                                            “I did it because, well…you sorta asked me to, and I…like…that we feel comfortable asking that stuff of each other. We’re really close, as friends, and I guess I just enjoy the little things that make us realize how close we are.”

                                            >Your thumb rubs her furry foreleg. A few of your fingers curled around her hoof to contact her overly sensitive frog.

                                            >That simple touch with her notoriously off-limit hooves was probably a bigger feat than your brief introduction to butt stuff.

                                            >Breath is shared and eyes are studied as your message resonates with her.

                                            >You shouldn’t be surprised.

                                            >You always felt like you two were cut from the same cloth, it’s no mistake that the truth hits home with her.

                                            >”Heh, geez dude. Don’t get too sappy on me, it’s only two PM.” She nudges your shoulder, prompting a smirk.

                                            >”But…yeah. I get that too. I k-kinda thought it was cool. I don’t really know anypony else I can joke around with like that.”

                                            >By now her wings had fully deflated and you give her ears a ruffle.

                                            “That’s why we’re besties!”

                                            >She beams back at you.

                                            >The next few minutes are spent idly joking and slowly stomaching the weight of what happened.

                                            >It doesn’t take long before you’re both back in high spirits, ready to finish another chapter of Daring Do.

                                            >The pegasus lounges next to you, her impending shower long forgotten as she watches you flip through pages to where you last left off.

                                            >”Hey, uh, weird question but…did it taste funny?”

                                            >You peek over at her, only the hint of a blush sat on her cheeks thanks to the earlier catharsis gleaned from discussing the act.

                                            “No. No not really, it was just a bit sweaty is all. So, kinda salty.”

                                            >”Salty…salty’s not bad.” She ponders before working up the courage for a follow-on.

                                            >”Um, what about the…I try to wash pretty good so was it…s-smelly?”

                                            >You snicker.

                                            “No, Dash. It smelled just fine, just like the rest of you.”

                                            >She lets out a sigh of relief, making your humorous smile grow.

                                            >”Heh! It kinda felt funny, but in a good way.”

                                            >You glance at her again.

                                            >”N-not like that! I mean…” She ruffles her wings, knowing she couldn’t get away with the lie, “...ok, kinda like that. But not like, in a mushy way or anything.”

                                            “Mhmm.”

                                            >”It’s true!”

                                            “Oh I believe you.”

                                            >You find your spot on the page.

                                            >”You’re not gonna tell anypony about that, are you?”

                                            “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

                                            >She sighs again.

                                            >You can feel her eyes bore into the side of your head as an awkward silence builds.

                                            >”Hey, uh…Anon?”

                                            >You set the book down and turn towards her fully.

                                            “Hey, Rainbow Dash.”

                                            >She gulps and averts her gaze.

                                            >”Um…”

                                            “Are your flanks still a bit itchy?”

                                            >You spoon feed her an excuse and she turns beet red.

                                            >”A bi-it.”

                                            >Her voice always cracked when she was excited or nervous…or both.

                                            >A smirk teases your lips, betraying your bubbling excitement.

                                            “Would you like me to itch it for you? I don’t mind.”

                                            >The battle between her inner demons manifests as fidgeting.

                                            >Her eyes shyly meet yours from under her prismatic bangs.

                                            >She nods.

                                            >Then jolts as you close the book.

                                            >Setting it on the table, you turn towards her and pat your lap.

                                            “Alright, swing your rear over here, we’ll get you taken care of.”

                                            >With a deep breath and a glance at the closed curtains she does as requested, at first standing a bit far away and only backing up farther upon your beckoning.

                                            >You pick up a pillow from the corner and place it on your lap, then nudge her to lay down.

                                            >She’s obviously excited as she settles with her rear elevated just under your nose.

                                            >Her tail swishes and she steals glances out of the corner of her eye.

                                            >Dash’s breathing grows noticeably heavier as you adjust your seat to get comfortable.

                                            >You lift her tail without warning and pry her cheek apart with your free hand.

                                            >Eager to offer your favor, you dig into the musky crevice without a second thought.

                                            >”Eeeep!”

                                            >She goes stiff when your enthusiasm greets her.

                                            >Her rump starts to squirm; she was not accustomed to handling the potent sensation.

                                            >You start with a simple kiss—mashing your lips against her taunt sphincter and nibbling.

                                            >Every fine wrinkle and crevice, every fine wisp of hair surrounding her clenching anus is revealed under the touch of your sensitive lips.

                                            >Your nose tickles the corner of her dock making her wings ruffle and her hindhooves point.

                                            >Reaching over the small of her back, you place a steadying hand on her cutie mark and move the other to her adjacent cheek.

                                            >The new orientation lets you spread her nice and wide as your lips twist around her shy pucker.

                                            >It wasn’t like she needed your help holding her tail out of the way anymore.

                                            >You finish the greeting by wrapping your whole mouth around the circumference of her anus and pulling away with a cartoonish:

                                            *pop!

                                            “Let me know when I hit the spot.”

                                            >She lets out a breath you didn’t realize she had been holding.

                                            >It takes her a moment to formulate a response, and another to build the courage needed to meet your eye and deliver it.

                                            >It proves to be too long; she turns around just in time to see you diving back in.

                                            >”Ngh!”

                                            >Her plothole, which had relaxed a bit during the respite, clenches once more on your way in.

                                            >Her spine goes rigid as you dig into her Wonderbolt ass once more.

                                            >You should be counting your luck, getting to eat out a specimen like her…and she’s your best friend too.

                                            >That’s double lucky.

                                            >You’re not counting anything, however.

                                            >Not even the seconds.

                                            >You’re entirely lost in the connection you have with the mare under her tail.

                                            >Pulling off the stubborn hole, you give it a bold lick in an attempt to get it to loosen up.

                                            >”H-hey!”

                                            >She sounded like she was protesting out of obligation not to abandon her resolve all at once, rather than any actual disdain for your actions.

                                            >To prove your hunch, her donut relaxes.

                                            >Immediately, you smother it with a kiss.

                                            >This time, it only clenches for a moment before softening up and melding with your mouth.

                                            >You lick her again square in the center of her divot, as a reward.

                                            >She certainly receives it as such.

                                            >Her wings suddenly jerk and you hear her clit wink from somewhere under your chin.

                                            >Amidst your kiss, you French her again.

                                            >She puckers up when she feels you worm your way past her outer defenses.

                                            >Patiently, you circle her perimeter, rimming her while patting her cutie mark.

                                            >Another wink.

                                            >She relaxes. Her breathing adopts some semblance of normalcy.

                                            >Leading with your tongue, you make a deliberate effort to push inside.

                                            >Almost immediately, you succeed.

                                            >The metallic flavor of sheltered inner flesh greets you, but only for a moment.

                                            >She grunts and lets out a flurry of winks—expelling you with a squeeze.

                                            >You surface with a dopy grin.

                                            “That hit the spot?”

                                            >She turns her head slightly, her eyes were half lidded and she was starting to drool.

                                            >”M-more.”

                                            >You’d be happy to.

                                            >You pull her rump until it’s more square with your face, then pry her cheeks open.

                                            >Her glistening plothole stares up at you, as well as her attractive pussy.

                                            >Hot breath warms her nethers as you home in, and she doesn’t even flinch when your tongue misses the target by a few inches.

                                            >Starting in the middle of her milky cleft, you lick up her salty outer vulva, draw your tongue across her anus, and bottom out in the odiferous dock.

                                            >”Oooo…”

                                            >Yeah, that hit the spot.

                                            >You repeat a few times, before putting your thumbs on her rim and spreading her back door.

                                            >Your tongue plunges inside, curling up the backside of her ring of muscle.

                                            >”Uuuh!”

                                            >Her winking reaches a crescendo and her wings flutter in apparent orgasm.

                                            >Hands affectionately circle her cutie marks as you relentlessly bombard her rectal nerves and push the barrier of intimacy further and further to the right.

                                            >Eventually, her contractions subside and you look up to see her in a trance-like state.

                                            >Her eyes are closed and she’s clutching her hooves to her chest.

                                            “Heheh! That was cute…”

                                            >You get away with the comment only because she’s barely lucid enough to respond.

                                            >Licking your lips, you look down at the treat under her tail.

                                            >You spread her clammy buttocks once more and set to task.


                                            >You weren’t sure how much time had passed on the couch, eating your pegasus partner’s ass.

                                            >But the first time you move is to switch on a lamp because it had gotten too dark to see.

                                            >Not that you couldn’t navigate by touch alone.

                                            >Every nook and cranny and moist corner she was hiding had been discovered by your tongue.

                                            >And revisited a hundred times.

                                            >Your lips are chapped and the scent of Rainbow Dash mare musk had stained your face.

                                            >As it turns out, after a few anal orgasms, she really didn’t care if you gave her a vaginal one or not.

                                            >It all had the same result anyways…a trembling, mewling mess that didn’t want the good touching to end.

                                            >To be fair, you gave her what she’d been looking for and them some.

                                            >Her ponut hadn’t clenched once, not even so much as twitched in the last hour at least.

                                            >She’d become completely paralyzed from the wings down.

                                            >The occasional moan or flustered compliment had let you know she was still lucid, but those too had been absent for some time.

                                            >With the light on, you can see your Dashie spread out on the cushions, her pretty little rump elevated and her tail arcing over her back.

                                            >The fur around her anus was darkened with spit and moisture.

                                            >Her chest rose and fell rhythmically, her eyes screwed shut and a happy smile pinned to her muzzle.

                                            >The very picture of a satisfied, content mare.

                                            >With one final pucker and smooch, you kiss your partner goodnight and swipe her tail back in place.

                                            >Taking up the room next to her, you pull her torso into your chest and tuck her head into your neck.

                                            >She immediately latches on and nuzzles into you.

                                            “Aww…goodnight you awesome little mare.”

                                            >And with that, you drift off to sleep with a new experience shelved away in your library of awesome memories.