Quiet days like these, especially in a place like Ponyville, you've learned to cherish. You were sitting alone in Sugarcube Corner, enjoying a midday cup of coffee and a donut. Pinkie Pie was away on some sort of friendship business, you just missed the afternoon rush, and the only other pony in the bakery was Mrs. Cake. She was preoccupied with tallying receipts, leaving you with a rare moment of peace and quiet.
Living with ponies had been quite the adjustment from your old life. Or maybe it was living in a small town? Either way, the ability to fade into the background and enjoy the calm serene of a day was a fairly rare one. Ponies always wanted to talk to you, and while you can tell their interest was genuine, it became tiring after awhile. Especially when you really had nothing new to talk about. No special somepony in your life, no adventures, just you and your job as a handyman for hire.
Determined not to let this moment be ruined by introspective nonsense, you took another bite of your sweet treat, and found your eyes drifting to the busy Mrs. Cake. She had a pair of reading glasses on as she transposed receipts into a notebook. Her hair, a faded shade of rouge, was in its trademark bun. Every so often she whispered something to herself before scribbling it down. Her rose eyes darted from the papers to her notebook, and every sudden movement set the rest of her body jiggling. You found your vision following those little ripples downward, your casual observance of the baker entering a less noble territory.
For a middle aged mother of two, she had done a good job hanging onto her figure. Between the children and the bakery, she definitely had some extra weight on her, but it only served to accentuate her natural curves. The majority of her extra fluff had settled in her rear, and it certainly made no apologies for it. Her rump swayed and bounced as she worked, her tail swinging idly back and forth. You were fixated on her cutie mark, three little cupcakes that seemed to dance on a field of cerulean fur. You felt a bit of heat rise in your face as you sipped your coffee, enjoying the show Mrs. Cake was unwillingly the star of. You had to hand it to Mr. Cake, landing someone like her in this crazy town must have--
That's when she looked up. You were caught, far too hypnotized by her bum to look away quickly enough. She must have seen you blushing, seen the lust written all over your face. Her chubby cheeks flashed a shade of crimson, and you swear for a split second she smiled and winked at you. You tried to return to your snack, desperately focusing on something other than ravaging her in her own bakery. It wasn't working, no matter how hard you tried, and you couldn't help but look back toward her.
Mrs. Cake had folded up her glasses and slipped them in her apron. She was making her way around the counter, keeping her eyes locked on you as she moved. You couldn't read her face, she didn't look angry but she wasn't smiling either. Maybe she was concerned? A guy your age oogling someone like her? She's probably going to sit down and chat with you about finding you a marefriend. Or she was going to politely ask you to leave.
You braced yourself for whatever she intended to do as her hoof steps neared closer. You popped the rest of your donut in your mouth, so if you needed a moment to think you'd have it.
A napkin landed on the table, and she continued past. No scolding, no motherly chit-chat, just a small white square. You slowly flipped the napkin over, and what you read was even more surprising.
"Write down your address and leave the door unlocked at 8 o'clock. Do you like chocolate or vanilla?"
It was so short and to the point, you found yourself re-reading it over and over. Did this really just happen? And that question at the end, what did that have to do with anything? Mrs. Cake was cleaning a table, making a point not to pay attention to you as you scribbled your address down and circled 'chocolate'. With a final sip of your coffee, you gathered yourself and made your exit, leaving the napkin on the table. Mrs. Cake barely acknowledged you as you left, a half-hearted 'come back soon!' without even looking your way.
You couldn't help but peek through the storefront window when you were outside. She had already made your way to your table, bussing the cup and plate while retrieving the napkin. She didn't look around or even react to the new information, only folded the napkin carefully and put it in her apron pocket. You didn't want to seem suspicious gawking through the window, so you quickly made your way home.
By the time 8 o'clock rolled around, you were sitting at the end of your bed, tapping your foot nervously. You had showered, shaved, changed your sheets and replaced the comforter. You even spritzed a little cologne on yourself, some scent Rarity had given to you for your birthday a month ago. Even so, it felt wrong. She was married, she had kids! Do ponies have the same sort of stigma when it came to sleeping around? They had to have, or why the secrecy in the first place? Maybe her and Mr. Cake had some kind of open relationship you didn't know about? What if they didn't? What if he comes looking for you if this gets out? He wasn't that strong looking you could probably take him if he...what were even saying?
You were being ridiculous. It's not like you seduced her or tricked her. This, whatever 'this' turns out to be, was entirely her idea. Maybe she won't even show? Maybe she'll decide that she doesn't want to--
The sound of your front door opening told you otherwise. You took a deep breath and adjusted your outfit. The door closed and you heard the sound of your locks being latched closed. Hoofsteps followed shortly after. Your cottage was small, so you didn't feel the need to leave the bedroom. Other than the washroom, it was the only other room in the house, and her hoofsteps were steadily becoming louder. Or was that your heartbeat?
"Hello, deary." Mrs. Cake said as she entered your room. In the quiet of your home, you could have actually heard your jaw drop. Gone was her apron and the random puffs of flour and powdered sugar in her fur and mane. In their place, her mane was straightened and down, flowing along her withers like a crimson wave. The smell of lilacs filled the room as she entered, and a pastry box dangled from her mouth by the string. "I brought the chocolate strawberries you asked for."
She winked and set the box down on the bed next to you. Her forehoof rested in your lap and she leaned close to your ear. Her breath sent a shiver down your spine as her soft fur began to brush against your arm.
"Care to try one?" She whispered, and you felt the heat begin to rise in your face. Thoughts of talking about this were long gone, in the brief time Mrs. Cake was here she showed you exactly what she wanted. She undid the string with her mouth and licked it seductively, teasing the knots in the strand before they became undone. Her rose colored eyes stayed locked with yours, a sly grin on her chubby cheeks. Pride that she could still seduce a man, perhaps? Who knew for sure? You'd never been with a cougar before, let alone a married one.
Very slowly, she lifted a single strawberry from the box. Keeping her gaze fixated on your own, she teased the corners of her mouth, moistening the chocolate that covered the tip. You felt your manhood slowly rise in your pants and her free hoof wasted no time coaxing it along. When you gasped from her touches, she guided the fruit to your lips and you took your first bite. They were overly sweet, the chocolate only amplifying the richness of the fresh strawberry. You felt juices run down your cheek, but when you lifted your arm to wipe it away, her hoof pressed to your wrist.
"Let me." She leaned closer to you and ran her tongue gently against your cheek, slowly bringing it toward your mouth. When she reached your lips, your eyes closed and you embraced her, your fingers running through her fur. She kissed you so tenderly and skillfully, you felt a bit intimidated by her experience. Her lips were soft and had a hint of chocolate and red wine on them. Her tongue effortlessly slipped into your mouth and ran its silky tip along the flat of your own. You followed her lead, the smell of her perfume filling your nostrils while your lips and tongues danced. She pushed herself into your lap, her legs straddling your middle and her ample rear enveloping your crotch. You couldn't help grabbing a handful of her bum right where her cutie mark was, and she replied with a barely audible moan.
Every time you tried to break the kiss and take control, she refused, kissing harder and squeezing her legs tighter around you. She was making it abundantly clear who this was for, and that you were just who she picked for the deed. Who were you to argue, you thought, as you cupped her rear with both hands and began to massage the soft flesh. She resisted another moan, her forehooves fumbling with your shirt buttons, popping them open one by one. When they reached your pants, you released your hold on her butt and helped her with your belt. The kiss finally broken, she watched you work the straps and zipper of your pants, her eyes far hungrier than you ever could have imagined from this otherwise motherly pony.
Her hind legs kicked and pulled at your pants as they came undone, freeing you engorged member from its prison of cloth. She bit her lip and took a labored breath through her nostrils when it came free, a drop of pre slowly slid down the head of your length. When you reached for her she shook her head 'no' and pushed you onto your back. You complied, completely under the spell of this older mare. Her directness and assertiveness was new to you, but your arousal from it was intoxicating. Even the fear of being discovered added to the lust of the moment, and in the haze of it all, you could only wonder what she had in store for you.
A cold feeling began to slide along your shaft and you sucked in another gasp before looking down. Mrs. Cake had another strawberry and was idly tracing the tip along your length. When she reached the tip, she took both your head and the fruit in her mouth, masterfully popping the berry. Juices flowed down and her warm tongue lapped them back up. You groaned and leaned your head back, your hips bucking your cock deeper into her mouth. She rested her hooves on your legs, pinned you under her weight, and bobbed her head at a slow rhythm. Her gaze stayed on you, watching for every sign of pleasure she elicited. Every lick of your cock, every tease or motion, she wanted to know it was appreciated.
After a few minutes of her quiet pleasuring of your cock, it wasn't much of a surprise when she climbed on top of you and tied your wrists to the headboard. One with your belt, the other with spare pastry string. She never asked if it was OK, but you did nothing to protest. The bonds weren't too tight, but whatever she intended to do with you, she wanted you on the bottom. You were on your back, naked, and now bound. Anytime you tried to talk dirty or even encourage her, she placed a hoof gently on your lips and 'shhh-ed' you. Somehow that only made it hotter, her motherly side still being so tender while she used you in your own bed.
Once you were restrained, she positioned her body on your chest, pushing your member between her rump cheeks. Your erection throbbed painfully, almost aware of how it would only be teased further by this dominant matriarch. Her hips moved slowly and deliberately, keeping your cock teased between the lips of her marehood. You felt every drop of her desire on the head of your cock, every wink of her clit against the base. She pleasured you so skillfully that you nearly exploded between her cheeks more than once. She seemed to sense how close you were getting and her movements stopped. She fed you another strawberry as a reward for your stamina and this lead to passionate kisses and more teasing from below. Like before, she lapped up any juices that escaped, her plush body wiggling into your chest and her mane cascading over your face.
Her lips were pressed deeply against yours when she finally lowered her hips on your swollen shaft. You couldn't keep your eyes closed, or help yourself from moaning sharply as you entered her. She was so warm and slick, you felt your cock immediately pulse and tingle, the countless amount of teasing leaving you ready to burst at the slightest motion. Her lips parted from yours, the sweetness of strawberries left on the tip of your tongue. She smiled warmly as she took more and more of your length, her cheeks red under her fur, betraying her arousal more than the sopping wet marehood ever could. Her rear sunk into your hips as the last of you was taken within her warmth. You bucked against her body, your muscles and sex screaming for you to take control and finish inside her, but she only smiled and remained still. Sometimes your cock would throb or twitch a certain way and she'd gasp, and you'd feel her winking against your sack. It was driving you wild, the headboard creaking as you fought against the restraints. But you didn't break free, nor did she make any effort to loosen them. She held you there, the tenderest of eyes encouraging you to trust her. You panted hard, and almost begged for her to do something, but she did as she had been doing all night and silenced you with her hoof. Not till she was ready, her body language replied to your own, so you had no choice but to wait. Held hostage by her ample derriere and pastry string.
Her body lowered atop yours, her head nuzzling between your shoulder and your neck. Even that slow motion excited your length, and you couldn't help but push your cock even the smallest amount deeper into her. She seemed to notice and kissed you softly below your ear, breathing a silky gust of warm breath onto the moist remains of the contact. You felt the tiniest of nips on your earlobe right as she began to move her hips. The motion was slow, gentle, but like all her actions, betrayed her skill in the bedroom. She knew just how fast to go to keep you from climaxing, a torturous rhythm that made you swear you lost your vision. You couldn't even hear how loud you were moaning, but the sound was exciting her. When she lowered her hips down, and you gasped and groaned from it, she rewarded you with harder bites on your ear. Her clit was winking wildly, her fluids drenching your aching sack below. You bit down on your lip hard to stop yourself from begging her, you could taste a little blood in your mouth. She traced a free hoof under your arm, along your side, finding every excitable nerve ending she possibly could.
That was when you heard it, for the first time all night, she was the one to wail in pleasure. Warmer fluids suddenly bathed your length as her inner muscles trembled and contracted, squeezing you tightly. Before you could even register that she finished, she was atop you, hooves pinning your shoulders, and her ass wildly bouncing on your crotch. You lost count of how many times she finished. But for the first time in your life, you experienced a multiple orgasm yourself. When you came, and came like a rocket you did, she didn't stop riding you. You were overwhelmed with pleasure, to the point where it was almost painful and you struggled not to tell her to stop a few times. Her hips pounded harder on your sex and through the searing pain of your knob, you felt her climax again, and again, and again. Each time closer than the last, and each one seemed to only drive her to ride you harder and faster. When you were sure you were seconds from a heart attack, the tip of your cock quivered and you began to explode for a second time. She felt it too, and her back arched, she cried out your name, and with a lewd smack of her rear into your crotch, she stopped riding you and collapsed onto your chest. She leaned forward to allow your cock to slip out of her and with a final gasp, she rested her head on your chest.
Both of you were sweaty, breathing heavily, but otherwise silent. Your sex felt as if it would never work again, your cock painfully pulsing with your pounding heartrate. You could feel all manner of fluid leaking from her onto your stomach. Her mane was tangled and damp from your sweat, quite the mess compared to how she looked when she came in. And despite everything, she didn't say a word. Just laid atop you, occasionally nuzzling your chest and neck.
When she recovered, she undid your bonds and went to the bathroom to freshen up. You heard the shower run for a few minutes, then the sound of your hairdryer shortly after. You, on the other hand, were content with laying on your bed, naked, sweaty, and covered with the evidence of her passion. It was so intense, you were beginning to wonder if it even happened, if you were moments from waking up in the morning of another day, clothed, and wondering why you had such an insane dream about a mare you never thought twice about before.
But the door to the bathroom clicked open, and she emerged. Her hair back in her trademark style, her eye makeup removed, and the smell of perfume gone. She looked at you, smiled, and left a napkin atop the box of strawberries before seeing herself out. When you finally had the energy to lift your arms, you took the napkin and read the other side.
"Anytime you want to meet again, order a dozen chocolate strawberries. I'll deliver them personally."
It was signed with a kiss and had the faintest scent of lilacs.
Author's Note
My first attempt at turning a greentext story into something more substantial. Wanted to get my feet wet with something short and to the point. It's definitely different, writing a casual encounter over romance, but in my mind it was more fitting for a character like Mrs. Cake to be discreet.
Appreciate any comments and criticism! Thank you for reading!
