I hope you are used to wear high heels ...
your new hoof boots will be ... like very high high heels I fear

cruise

whimpers helplessly

looking over
wondering if you're still with us

*Returning, sorry to discover that I missed so much of Seven!*

Love the handcuffs!

squeezing the nubbins hard

I'd like to punch holes into the teat bases and then place rings there

Her cheeks are pink, is it from the drinks or the teasing company, likely a combination of the two.
She's definitely feeling relaxed and comfortable. She's leaning closer as they talk, not even aware she's doing it. Her eyes widen as she hears his growl and looks around to see what might have caused it, though it disappeared quickly and he's taking a drink so maybe she imagined it. Either way, it sank into her and she wiggles upon the stool.

She gives a laugh and a nod at his mention of a second date being at a tailgate.

"Ohh, I don't know. Once you come to one of my tailgates, you'll be addicted. There's no going back."

Hazels twinkle as they look into his browns and she's reaching for that glass again for another sip as her heartbeat accelerates and throbs there at the base of her neck.
She listens as he describes what he likes to do and smiles.

"That sounds delightful."

She coughs as eyes widen at his mention of breakfast dessert and turns her head as the blush deepens and flushes her chest.

That was amazing Seven. So creative Sis!

Stands there gobsmacked

moans eyes wide wondering what ringed means

giggling

We have a very responsive new pony here I see!
I think we should get these teats ringed soon!

out

Snooze

moans drool driping, feeling fingers lift her breasts, your thumbs teasing her nipples making them swell

moving over to you
hefting your udders and toying with the teats

Booze

(take care then! See you again)

Apollo has started a new game with the following players:
Apollo

" S T A R T G A M E : t r u e "{ " g a m e I d " : " 1 7 2 0 3 0 9 5 4 8 " , " p l a y e r L i s t " : [ " a p o l l o " ] , " r o l l N u m b e r " : 0 , " c u r r e n t P l a y e r " : 0 , " d i c e " : { " f a c e s " : [ 0 , 0 , 0 , 0 , 0 ] , " r e r o l l " : [ t r u e , t r u e , t r u e , t r u e , t r u e ] } , " s c o r e 0 " : { " 1 " : n u l l , " 2 " : n u l l , " 3 " : n u l l , " 4 " : n u l l , " 5 " : n u l l , " 6 " : n u l l , " p l a y e r " : n u l l , " u p _ t o t a l " : n u l l , " b o n u s " : n u l l , " 3 k " : n u l l , " 4 k " : n u l l , " s s " : n u l l , " l s " : n u l l , " f h " : n u l l , " y a h _ t o k e n " : n u l l , " y " : n u l l , " c " : n u l l , " y a h _ b o n u s " : 0 , " b o t _ t o t a l " : n u l l , " g _ t o t a l " : n u l l } , " o w n e r " : " a p o l l o " , " s t a t u s " : " r e a d y " , " r o u n d " : 0 , " l a s t P o s t " : 1 7 2 0 3 0 9 5 4 8 }

reaching and fondling your udders
caressing, thumbs rubbing the teats
smiling at you

Does this pony like my attention?

OOC Lounge
Awareness, confession, bait. I'd thought myself elegant in my own play of the game only to realize the ploy performed far better in the hands of a more skilled player. The silence lingered, minutes transformed into an empty glass and the desire for a second. The cool relief of this escape from the heat now replaced by a heated focus upon message and unspoken invitation.

All it had taken was a reminder. Golden memories surfacing like the flash of auric scales in the waters of the past. As each minute passed those memories grew sharper, clearer, more profound in their intensity. There was another growled sigh as taunted imagination lent motion, ushered what was once familiar into fantasies both new and exciting. Times changed, people changed, but what remained the same offered fresh possibilities all of their own. Divergent paths carried with them new wonders upon each intersection.

Now that confession, that bold awareness offered up as lustful invitation, seemed too much. Less an object of intrigue but the reward of validation. The smug prize of acknowledgement, of vanity. I'd been free with my tongue, my imagination; a meal cached as bait with nothing left to tantalize.

Or so it seemed, as minutes ticked by. As a second glass was consumed and a third denied. That image given a final glance and then both it and temptation laid aside. A stoked imagination would not wait for such elusive substance and nor would I. A pen and a leather-bound writer journal awaited. Not all muses could be grasped, but their essence could tease reward all the same.

I flipped the phone on it's face, left it waiting on the table for a time where there would be more of my attention to satisfy it. A return to the bar, but this time to a stool and a writing surface to place said journal. And for a time pen would scratch paper, imagination bled onto the pages; it's visions every bit as disjointed and vividly-realized as I experienced them.

rt screaming
i need to leave for now