The days seem to go by pretty quickly, living with Rainbow Dash. She leaves early every morning but returns early afternoon, and the two of you spend all evening together.
Whether it be exercising together to try and trim some of that gut you’ve got going on…
Or just sitting on the couch, with a bowl of popcorn bigger than her head set between the two of you, while you watch the latest film she picked up on the way home…
Or even roughhousing across the living room floor – and once or twice in the bedroom…
…Rainbow Dash always gets her due time with you.
How the two of you came to live together is a bit of a tale in itself. When ponies around Ponyville ask, as they often do, she sums it up nicely: “Someone had to get this guy into shape! I mean, did you *see* him before?
“He said he wanted help, so we met up three times a week to work out together. You get to know someone pretty well when you do that for months on end. And after one rough run, when I was absolutely beat, the weather went sour real fast and I crashed at his place.
“One thing lead to another, and – other than leaving his gym clothes on the floor – things aren’t so bad! And it lets me keep an eye on what he eats. Gotta keep him lean and mean!”
It’s not very flattering, but that’s Dash for you.
She’s a different beast when it’s just the two of you, though. That’s just one of the many reasons she never leaves your thoughts.
It’s been a Friday almost like any other in the Ponyville marketplace. The sun is out, the birds are singing, and ponies are going about their day with bright smiles and full bags. You have a stupid grin on your own face, beaming at every happy pony. Just walking among them makes you suck in a deep, appreciative breath; you feel like you’re filling your chest up with the joy of every pony there.
You search for a specialized clothing store that opened recently. Dash had wanted the two of you to get pair of matching white-and-black running outfits to wear when you run about town. “That way we’d look like a team,” she said.
So that you’d look like a team…and, probably, also so that random mares would at least pretend not to gawk at you. She hasn’t actually said anything about it. But whenever Dash had been around when mares gave you some of the more…appreciative looks that ladies might give, things tended to get a little heated – not for the mares, of course, but for you. The last time that had happened, Dash exercised you afterwards for a whole hour more than usual. She just kept running, you had been obliged to keep up – or you told yourself so anyway – and the bruises had lasted a good couple of weeks. At least she cut back on her usual sarcastic workout compliments. That time.
You realize that you had been standing for minutes, lost in thought, in front of the store you had been searching for. You shake your head a bit, scattering your memories. Best get what you came for and get out.
A ringing bell announces your entry as you swing the door wide and greet the middle-aged shopkeeper. He looks up and gawks at the unusual customer entering his store – it’s a look you’d nearly forgotten – but recovers well enough. They always were a little nervous the first time. Probably the height difference.
Clearing his throat, he gazes up at you and says with just a slight quiver in his tone, “W-welcome! My store specializes in custom outfits: ‘For work or play, it’s just a stitch away!’ How may I help you?”
You hand over the small note Dash has written for the shopkeeper: a list of the clothes you need to have made and their corresponding sizes. White shirts and black shorts. You stress that the clothes are for exercising in, not just show, and you show Dash’s drawings of her cutie mark, which she wants displayed on her own suit’s flanks. He laughs a bit at the lopsided scribbles, but assures you he’ll straighten them out.
You see something click mentally with the stallion as he redraws her mark – the cloud and lighting bolt – before he looks up at you in surprise. “The legendary Rainbow Dash wishes an order from my newly opened store? Why, I’m honored! To think my reputation had traveled so quickly….” Truthfully, it hadn’t. She had no idea who this guy was, just what the store did – that, and that any exercise suit from Rarity would have far too much frill. But you aren’t been about to tell him that; you smile instead and go along. Good thing too: he happily gives a hefty discount for the legendary Rainbow Dash.
Before you leave, an idea pops into your head. You recall briefly that Dash pranked you a few days prior, with toothpaste in the shampoo bottle. Or was that the time before? It was tough to recall: she pranked you about twice a week. You got her back pretty frequently, but you still owed her one….
So you add an extra pair of shorts to the order. One more pair for Dash, with her cutie mark on the sides like she wanted…but about one-and-a-half sizes too small for her body. The clerk does not ask why, thankfully. You have a plan for revenge, and maybe a little fun – and as you leave the store, you grin to yourself.
The following Friday, you pick up the order and bring your nice new outfits home. You and Dash now live near the Ponyville park where you two had met and worked out all those months ago. “I’m back!” you call out, swinging open the extra-tall door made just for you. The house itself greets you with the smell of popcorn lingering from last night – movie night – with Dash. The scent brings with it an urge to run your hands through her mane again.
Dash herself pokes her head up from the couch like a rainbow-maned prairie dog. “Took you long enough!” she says playfully. She turns the TV off and floats over to you with a small smile. She eyes your shopping bags. “So, how do they look? He didn’t mess up my cutie mark, did he?”
“On the contrary,” you say with a grin, pulling the properly sized shorts out to show. “He draws it better than you.”
“Ha, ha. Lemme see them.”
You hand over her shirt first – and when she turns around to spread it wide for inspection, you silently switch her proper shorts for the ill-fitting pair, stuffing the proper shorts back in the bag.
Dash turns the shirt over once, checks the holes for her wings, then turns back around with a grin. “Looks good to me! And there’s a hole in the shorts for my tail, right?” You nod, opening the small pair of black shorts and turning them over for her inspection.
“Man, these look small,” she whispers, making your heart race. The clothes have no tags, so there’s no way she could tell for sure…
“Maybe it’s my imagination,” she says with a shrug while you nervously smile. “Anyway, it’s 5K Friday! Let’s get these suckers on and get to it!” Your shoulders sag at her words. 5K Friday. Your least favorite workout.
“Aw c’mon, you know you gotta run!” Dash says comfortingly, drifting closer until her chest nearly touches yours. She leans her face to the side to whisper something that really gets your heart racing: “Cardio is SO important that – if you keep up with me today – maybe I’ll give you a little extra when we get back.” You catch a wink as she slowly floats away. She drapes her new suit over a hoof and makes a shooing motion. “Well? Go get changed! I’ll need your help getting into this stuff so you go first.”
Changing clothing is quick for you, and moments later you’re helping Dash with her shirt’s wing holes. She stands sideways before you while you gently tug on the fabric. “It’ll be an easy 5K this time,” Dash says, “since we haven’t done one for a few weeks. Mostly level ground, commonly run paths – and we’ll take it a little slow, too. We can do a harder one next week or the week after, depending on how your legs feel after.”
She turns and faces away from you as you lay the too-small running shorts on the ground. She looks over her shoulder and steps backward into the shorts. You manually correct her feet’s positions, fighting the incredible urge to run your hands up her legs and –
“Stop daydreaming and help me get these things on,” she says firmly, and you’re snapped out of your haze. She smiles smugly and gently sways her firm butt side to side. “Like I said: keep up and you’ll get a reward today. But only if you keep up!”
You grab the shorts’ waistband and pull them up quickly, not surprised when the waistband promptly squishes Dash’s sleek cheeks enough to push them over its sides.
To her credit, Dash only yelps. “What in the hay?!” Dash nearly kicks you in the chest, thinking you’re copping a feel. She looks back and grunts as her blue butt bulges above the waistband. “Did that guy make them too small or –”
“Maybe you should lay off the popcorn,” you chuckle, playfully pulling Dash’s shorts up even more.
You enjoy the sight of her entire backside lifting inches off the ground, before the waistband suddenly slackens. Her hooves hit the ground softly while everything behind falls into place – everything except her tail bulging strangely through the tight black tunic, tight against her butt.
Reaching a few fingers through the shorts’ tail hole, you fish around until you’ve got a firm grip on the base of her tail. With a gentle tug, you pull her tail out of the shorts through the hole, lining everything up as it should be.
Dash’s hindquarters are lifted off the ground once more before you let go. She clears her throat impatiently while you run a hand over the taut pants, making sure everything is smoothed out, and enjoying the smooth, tight feeling of Dash’s ass.
“Alright, alright. That’s enough appreciating,” she says hotly. Cheeks rosy, she does a quick turnaround and eyes you suspiciously. “These things are tight. You sure you read the right size off to him?”
You raise your hand in a mock pledge. “I swear.” After all, you did give him the right size: but you also gave him this small size too.
“Hmm…Maybe I just need to break them in a bit,” she mumbles, shaking one leg to the side experimentally; you stifle a giggle. “Well, whatever. Let’s go for a run. Though I might be slower than normal if these things don’t loosen up.”
The day is warm and sunny: not a cloud in the sky and no breeze to make the run any better. Dash leads the way, no more than a few feet in front at your left. Back when you first started she’d run beside you, trying to encourage you and making sure you didn’t fall behind.
These days she prefers to encourage you from in front. Her more intimate relationship with you has led to better ideas on how to keep your interest in running.
And what motivation you have today.
The first few minutes go by pretty quick. The town outskirts transition to dirt paths in the park, where foals play with frisbees and couples enjoy picnics on open green fields. You keep pace with Dash well. You look straight ahead while running among the playing ponies; you always see Dash at the edge of your vision, running just slightly ahead. As the two of you hit your first stretch of the park’s less-populated woods, you finally look at Dash to see how she’s doing.
Dash has a look of slight discomfort on her face. Her running shorts’ tightness displays every curve in her exemplary form; their firm, sleek blackness look almost like spandex, how tightly they cling to her. You nearly trip over a root on the side of the path, stumbling; Dash looks back in confusion. “You alright back there? I knew taking time off running wasn’t doing you any favors, but c’mon!” She smiles smugly before picking her pace up, gaining distance that you struggle to close.
The sun beats down on the two of you, both clad in white shirts and black shorts – and though the heat isn’t unbearable, you’re both sweating pretty steadily now. Past several twists and turns in the path, you eventually catch up, and Dash gives a small nod before focusing back on her own running. You try to do the same, but it’s not long before your gaze is drawn to her again.
She’s ignoring the sweat running down her face, focusing solely on the path before her. She strides efficiently, lithe body in motion captivating you. Her hind legs rise and fall steadily, and you can see every movement in her hindquarters. As each one pushes against the ground, its buttock bulges clearly against her shorts. Dark splotches spot the fabric around the waistband, where sweat has rolled from under the back of her shirt.
Dash suddenly turns her head, making eye contact again. This time there’s no teasing, no witty remark. She smiles honestly at you, panting, “Good! You’re in better shape still than I thought.”
You hadn’t noticed until now: you’ve been running a fair clip faster than you normally do. The scenery goes by at a rapid pace for running. Your breathing is steady. Your legs feel strained but still strong. All things considered, you’re surprised at yourself too. Dash smiles, bites her lower lip, and tosses her mane to the side, before turning back to the path. Your gaze drifts back to her bouncing posterior.
Is it just you or is her tail raised a bit more now?
The two of you round a bend in the road; the park exit is now in sight. Dash speeds up a notch and starts to pull away from you. You struggle to keep up – legs thumping and arms pumping past the park exit – and the final leg back home turns into a long sprint instead of a run. Your lungs are burning and your legs are starting to fail, but somehow you manage to stay several feet from Dash – but, true to form, she beats you to the door. She holds it open and you rapidly wind down into a stagger inside. You promptly navigate your way to the couch and fall face first onto the cool cushiony goodness.
You roll over and work on steadying your breathing as Dash floats over the top of the couch. She tosses a bathroom towel in your face and wipes her face with her own – light blue, like herself. “Good run today,” she says breathlessly. “You worked hard.”
You grunt through your towel and remove it from your vision – just before something drops onto your stomach, knocking all the wind from your lungs.
When you recover, you’re greeted with the sight of a sweaty Rainbow Dash straddling your gut – a towel across her neck and shoulders – white shirt spotted with sweat – and a smug smirk on her cute face.
“Now it’s time to play hard.”
The towel drops from your hand to the floor unceremoniously as Rainbow Dash lies down and straddles your body. She scoots forward enough to plant a kiss firmly on your lips.
It’s hot and salty: the sweat from the run rolls down her face and tingles the kiss with hot and pungent scent. The two of you gasp for breath between bouts of kissing.
Dash makes the move and squirms her tongue into your mouth aggressively. You bring your hands up to Dash’s back, hands running under the sweat soaked shirt; you feel the damp coat beneath and find the base of her wings, gently squeezing them. She makes such a satisfied gasp that you do it again, squeezing one and gently circling around the other. Dash moans into your mouth and finally breaks the kissing with a gasp.
She sits up and pants into your face. “I saw you staring,” she says with a gentle moan, “during the run. Hnngfh – yes, right there! I don’t know why but –” You run your hands up and down the small of her back, and she bites her lip. “…But seeing you stare at me got me going too. Did you see it, during the run?”
You nod and tease Dash with your hands. They slip underneath the waistband of her too-tight shorts, giving slight relief from the restricting band. As if on cue, a shake runs through Dash. She shuts her eyes and her legs tighten against your sides: you almost instantly become rock-hard.
“Hnnnnnf!” Dash grunts. Sensation wracks her small frame. “It’s been like that for a while – I’m so pent up! Come on, don’t tease me –”
A forceful kiss shuts her up, and she tangles her tongue with yours. Both your hands squirm underneath the tight shorts, palms down and full of Dash’s taut blue butt. You enjoy every inch that you feel of her damp coat and the firm muscle beneath. The shorts were already tight, but with your hands now stuffed inside, they stretch dangerously at the seams.
The pressure forces your hands deeper into Dash’s ass; the heat inside the shorts increases as your hands near their goal. You notice how sticky the shorts are now: her sweat mixes with other, more sensual, fluids. If your face wasn’t full of Dash’s hot lips and tongue, your nose would be full of her her heat’s hot scent.
You can feel the edges of her marehood with your fingers now. Every quiver and pulse sends shivers down your spine – your cock throbs mercilessly in your running shorts.
Dash breaks the kiss when one finger finds her most sensitive spot. Your finger creeps over the raised lip of her bulging marehood and prods gently at the hot, sticky, pulsing clit. When you reach the center of the bulging knob, you carefully push it clockwise inward.
The effect is immediate. Dash’s eyes snap wide open and her back arches, mouth open in a blissful cry. Her wings flare and her whole body shakes – she climaxes suddenly, spraying your hand and the inside of her shorts with fluids.
You don’t let up. You move your finger from her clit and, slowly but forcefully, you push it inside her snatch. She gasps at the intrusion, still riding waves of pleasure from her orgasm.
The shorts are so tight that one hand is trapped: you can’t pump into her. Instead, you hook your fingers and gently rub her insides, searching for her most sensitive spots. Your other hand withdraws from the shorts and gently traces her anus outside. It pushes the shorts’ slick fabric in a circle around the protrusion.
The only sound Dash can make is a high, ecstatic whine. She moves her body against yours in time with the circles, slowly grinding her stomach against yours, unable to scratch the itch you’re causing inside her.
“It’s – ah! It’s no fun if it’s just one way,” she eventually gasps. A characteristically smug grin appears on her pleasure-strained face. “You need that extra cardio, remember? Come on, get these shorts off.”
You pull your trapped hand from her shorts as quickly as you can manage – grabbing hold of the waistband, you tug it down, away from her wings. The fabric sticks to her cheeks again, and you hear a distinct tearing from the waistband. You struggle to get them off in one piece, until Dash says in desperation:
“Rip them off for all I care, just GET THEM OFF!”
Every word drips with lust and frustration, and something inside your mind snaps. You grab two handfuls of the waistband and pull with sudden strength – away from each other, away from Dash.
A great tearing sound, a moan of relief, and two pieces of fabric in your hands all tell you that you’re successful. Throwing the torn shorts to the side carelessly, your hands return to the firm – and now sensitive – buttocks of your light-blue pegasus. As they squeeze them, Dash sighs happily, and you revel in the hot, still-sweaty sensations her buttocks give.
Despite the desire to run your hands across her body forever, a more pressing urge rises up, both within and without. It pokes Dash’s underside and threatens to pop out of your shorts. Panting heavily, Dash slides forward, away from your hands. She leaves a sticky path across your shorts and stomach, streaking up the bottom of your shirt.
You take the hint, hands quickly pulling your shorts and underwear down to your knees. There’s no chance to undress any further. Rainbow Dash, looking over her shoulder, sees your cock pop free of your clothes and point upward – and promptly raises her hips, pushes backwards with her front hooves, and lines up with you before you can even move your hands.
You feel the heat radiating off her marehood for a mere second –
– before she drops her hips and slams you all the way inside – she drives in every inch of you she can fit, one swift motion that makes both of you cry out in pleasure.
She’s so hot inside! Her innards move and churn, pulsing and pushing, pressing in at every inch of your member, as strong as a vice. Did she climax again already!?
You suck a breath in through your teeth, trying to focus on something else – anything that isn’t how amazing it feels inside Rainbow Dash, how it feels like she’s completely stuffed full of you. But you can’t. You can think only of her inner surfaces and her cries of pleasure, echoing in your home.
Dash steadies herself on you, legs still straddling your body, and begins to rapidly rise and fall on your cock. She’s merciless with her thrusts: every rise is swift, and every fall ends with a loud, wet thwap – literally dropping herself onto you, over and over again. The edges of her marehood bulge outward with every fall; the girth of your cock fills her completely. It’s a sensation unlike anything you’ve felt before. Maybe it was your exercising beforehand, but something about it this time is so wild and satisfying.
You grab Dash’s hips with your hands, helping her up and down with each pump into your lithe lover. The plethora of both your hot moans and grunts of pleasure are set to such wild, bare lovemaking. You see only her face – open in pleasure, coated in sweat and saliva – and her body, happily bouncing on you.
Maybe it’s the pace, maybe it’s her noises or her face, maybe it’s just everything, but you can’t last. Your grip on her hips tightens, just as her grip on your cock does. She’s close again and so are you. You’re throbbing inside her. You buck wildly despite her insides’ tightness. She slams into you again, and you strain at the heat and friction.
Her wings flap, lifting her body before each thrust – slowing its pace but adding more force. The time between each thrust becomes agonizing. Tortuously cold air strikes your cock when she rises – but the heat inside her after is made so much sweeter.
The head of your cock feels ripe to explode. Pressure builds with each pump – until you grab her by the hips and force her down. You push your hips up, penetrating extra deep, earning a new, intense cry of pleasure from Rainbow Dash.
You reach her inner limits and let loose, climaxing harder than you ever have before.
She’s so tight around you that her lips threaten to choke the stream of seed. There are no spurts or strands – only a continuous flow into her depths, like a faucet left running. Your balls tighten, squeezing themselves dry, delivering one immense load.
Rainbow Dash is already cumming: orgasm courses through her insides as you fill her beyond her limits. Her small belly swells and bulges between the girth of your cock and the load you’ve delivered into her.
Slowly, you taper off. The stream settles into a dribble, running backwards from gravity. Dash collapses on top of you, her head on your chest; both of you, still joined together, lie on the couch for a while. Silence replaces the cacophony of two lovers momentarily.
“Ugh,” Dash finally says, breaking the silence. “I feel incredibly full…like Pinkie just fed me a whole cake or something.” She looks up at you with a twinkle in her eye and a small smile on her face. “I better not have kids because of that.”
Before you can say anything, Dash pulls her hips up and off, finally separating the two of you with a loud squelch. Cool air hits your still-wet cock.
Rainbow Dash scoots forward, and her face meets yours again. The kiss she gives you this time is tamer – but still sincere.
“So…same workout next Friday?”
Author's Note
Originally written in 2014; Edited recently and uploaded for archival/sharing purposes.
Originally titled - in a tongue-in-cheek fashion - Lewd Dash Words aka Xieril's Fic, as it was written expressly for him.
