She’s now laying on her back across your stomach. Your resting hand had suspiciously migrated from where you left it on her shoulder to her exposed belly, and she was holding the other in her hooves above her face; her muzzle was buried in your wet palm. Your eyes move up to meet hers and you hold the stare for a few seconds while a powerful blush forms on her cheeks. She’s obviously been caught with her hoof in the cookie jar, but she still doesn’t release your appendage.