Pleasured Viscera: Whispers Beneath The Boards

I paced about, wondering what to make for breakfast. For some, horrible reason, my hooves were fogged by strange, familiar quaking. What did I do last night. Was it a hooker. An old ex that told me her darkest secrets. Why, in rest, did I feel fuzzy and limp. Wintered fur rustled above my coffee table, flooding pleasure with endless blasphemy. I tried moving, but, I couldn’t. I felt numb and frigid. What was happening to me.

‘You did it’

‘Monster’

“Don’t… judge me. Don’t you judge me…” I uttered, shaking and hastily reaching my wolf beta.

She gasped at first, but, I knew her instant acceptance. We weren’t fucking, but, I did probe her throat. Swirling pink all over Winter’s maw, chambered thick with innocent love. innocent pleasure from being the victim and not the ill. I rubbed my pride against her dense, wither-kissed flank musculature. We were nice and quiet. My wolf, so pleasant with quizzical pleasure noise, moaned and trusted me, even lifting her right hindleg for quick access.

“M-morning… I-I’m still really tired, but I don’t mind- just- just don’t hurt me, okay?” Winter groaned, pushing her lungs farther and farther.

“I’m just stressed~ You don’t mind if I fuck your pussy a little, d-do you, babe~?” I cursed, prodding that wild, leaking muff.

I saw her cheeks flush. Little Howl buried her muzzle beneath the desk edge. Her gilded eyes were precarious. Dangerously weak. I found them warm, but droopy. Did Winter think I pleasured, or defeated, my heart whispered. We were dense. Bent. Broken. Greedy, sopping lips itched my swollen mareprick and I thrust an inch forward. Whatever sin she buried, I was dying inside. I was dying and Winter fed me her last shred of liberty. Thick, parasitoid stuffing took my stress slave. I met her cervix half-neglected. The air was cool and dry over pulsing, needy cum-veins. We started rocking, mocking blocking restrictions all over our heart’s a flocking. I clenched her snug, boyish hips, rutting firm to hit home.

“A-aaah~? U-unnnhh~ Wh-what’s wrong… You’re so hard. I-I’m scared. “ My bride hushed, letting her tongue slide out.

Could a wolf curl her paws. I saw her grip and dig every possible medium for stability. Did I cut her zip-tie. It didn’t matter. At first, I started speeding, ready to burst-fuck my newest conquest. But, when I watched her lips, Winter’s scrunching seemed childish. Hurt. Instead, my lust turned to lies and slow, stuffing slaps eased her huffing ribs. We breathed and slimed, pinning Winter wood-first to quench her thirst. My ear twitched.

“A-aahyeah… Fuck, you’re good. Say my name… I wanna hear you.” I uttered, handling her waist so slim and evasive.

“Viscera…” My daughter hushed, on her tummy sailing sees of runny cock fun, shutting eyes beneath my stony guise.

“How’d you know my name~?” I whisper pounding, grating hard with all my pent, lashing womb invasions.

Little Winter shuddered her heavy, frigid arching. I hugged her waist, ravaging every which inch of vitae chamber so lusty for union. Lusty just for me. My beta bit her platform, etching wood fresh with cocoa as our nethers tied. We drummed to heart’s delight because she was mine and I was her’s. Winter, sweetest craving, moaned again.

“A-ah~ Mommy~ Mommy~ Don’t~ Don’t make me your pet~” The mare grated, head-tilted just like mine.

Little Silver. Little Winter. How long was her exodus between our missions sweaty and thumping. When, by slept, we galloped to murder ponies we didn’t even know. Cyan, blue-blooded spectacles met my breath. I fogged her upper-wit aesthetics with long, drawn panting. My daughter grunted, tensing hard from all our bonding. It even felt, for some, eldritch reason, she was trying to take me out.

“Viscera, s-stop~! Stop-! I-I don’t wanna be a mother… Don’t make me have them…” Begged my Silver, little Spoon.

We were muggy with morning grain. I knew, deep down, she was just making me melt. My gorgeous, little filly all grown-up, I cooed, bucking firm to leak her cunt. She arched, jerking me off with thick, wrapping orgasms.

"M-mom~ D-don't make me piss... Don't make me piss. Just get off and make me burn-!" Whimpered my wolfish seed, so to speed our sinful creed.

Together as one, I rushed her heart. Thump. Thump. Thump. I gripped her braid, moaning deep and cigarette-kissed all over my little incest bride. Deep inside, we frenched and melted, my own hips seizing violently every thrust. She stared back, unsure and innocent with college-aged violets, watching clouds as her lip quaked. Open, huffy, my sex-caked child shook her head. Over and over, she shook and twitched, grunting hard with finish. I loved her with creamy, splattering messes. Four times, I frosted my apprentice hitmare, locking her base-to-cheeks and utterly satisfied. Silver Spoon stuttered her precious, low-set breathing, more woman than I could ever explain. Her curvature, coated rich and silky, had no tone and kissing brought gushy, little petal tears.

"U-uuunnha~! C-can we stop...? I'm... I'm too tired..." Hushed my bad apple, huffing harsh in slow, gradual calming.

A grin spread my lips.