Ponies are so trusting. Under the guise of friendship, you can pretty much get away with anything. When Sweetie Belle started spending a lot of time at my place, nopony even batted an eye. Not even when she started asking for sleep-overs. Ponies are so damn trusting.
At the moment, she's laying on my chest, lips pressed against mine in a sloppy but passionate kiss. She's learning fast, but I'm in no rush for her to become an expert. To be honest, I kind of like the inexperienced way she handles sexy time. I think it’s because it reminds me of how wrong this all is, and that, in turn, excites me.
I let her explore the inside of my mouth, which she does with the energy and curiosity only a filly could possess. My hands grope at her warm, pillowy backside. As I squeeze and pinch, a stray finger might slide a little lower every now and then, prodding at one of her entrances, keeping her excited and reminding her of what's coming. My cock twitches as if for emphasis as it's grazed by a neatly trimmed fetlock.
Finally, that hot little tongue pulls away from my mouth, though her lips linger for just a moment longer, as if they’re reluctant to break contact. When she finally does fall back, Sweetie's cheeks wear a rosy red blush, and her mouth is twisted into an adorably goofy expression. Sweetie tends to make that face when she’s ready for penetration, as if she’s mentally preparing herself for me. Little things like that are exactly what I love about her.
“Um, Anon, Are we gonna..?” Sweetie’s voice brings me back to reality as I realize that I had just been staring at her for a while. Rather than answer, I give her a wicked grin, booping her nose with my own. Then, wrapping my arms around her in order to keep her steady, I bring myself to a seated position with Sweetie poised just above my eager cock.
Our eyes lock and Sweetie makes that cute face again. Without further ado, I give her what she wants. I lower her down so I’m pressed against her entrance, and then, moving down further, I let my length slowly slide into her. Sweetie bites her bottom lip as she stretches to fit me inside. She doesn't hold back a melodic, satisfied hum when I bottom out.
Interesting fact about ponies: stallions tend to have really big cocks. Okay, I know this probably seems like it came out of nowhere, especially while you're trying to think about tight filly pussy, but hear me out. The average pony cock is just a little over three times larger than that of a human's at adulthood, even though a fully grown mare only has about two-thirds the body mass of a human woman. So, why does this matter?
It matters because this means that a mare's vagina is pretty fucking versatile. Even a little filly like Sweetie Belle, who stands just past my knee and is maybe half my size standing on her hind legs, is able to completely fit my slightly-larger-than-average (for a human) pecker inside of her with no pain at all, while still being tighter than hell.
Blew my fucking mind the first time, and it never gets old.
As is our tradition, Sweetie takes a few moments to get comfortable, and I wait for her to make the first move. She tends to need a bit of time to get used to my cock before she starts to really get into it, and I’m perfectly okay with that. Watching her squirm and adjust herself with a scrunched up face as though she’s testing out a new seat is actually kind of hot.
I can feel the gentle pulsing of her heartbeat on my cock as she gets herself into place; my own heart starts to beat faster in response. Despite how often we’ve done this, there’s always something so special about fucking my little filly that makes it feel new and exciting every time despite going through all the same motions.
Once she’s satisfied with her position, she smiles sweetly up at me.
“How far in do you think you went, Anon?” This question is another cute little ritual of hers. First time I bottomed out in her, I made a big deal about how impossibly far in I'd managed to get. It must have made an impression on her young mind because now she asks me every single time.
“Right about... here!” I say, poking her belly somewhere just above her bellybutton and causing her to giggle. The sensation of her moving body is phenomenal while I’m buried inside of her.
She begins to rock into my pelvis then, and at long last, we’re fucking in earnest. I let her control the momentum of our thrusts, starting off slow. She slides about halfway up my length and back down, punctuating each new insertion with a soft little grunt. She likes to do most of the work, but I do help her along, lifting her butt a little each time she pulls out before thrusting back in.
I can see both in her expression and the acceleration of her movements that her pleasure is starting to build. She always bites her lip when she starts getting serious, which is my cue to pull out a little farther and push back in a little harder. I can feel her heartbeat getting faster, and that only spurs me on.
Soon, we’re in full swing. I pull out almost all the way now before each new thrust, and her eyes close tightly in anticipation of her climax. Her cute little grunts become sharper and more urgent, and her whole body begins to quiver.
When the already snug walls of her little pussy begin to tighten, I leaned forward and lock lips with her as her orgasm begins to overtake her. She squeals into my mouth as pleasure shoots through her body. The feel of her tightening walls and the rush of filly cum are what bring my own orgasm to fruition.
For a while, we just ride out our ecstasy, clutched tightly in each other's arms, my cock still spurting deep inside her. Eventually, of course, the pleasure subsides, but we continue to hold each other like that just because we like each other; post-coitus cuddles are important, after all.
As we lie there, I stroke her mane and think about how banal life in Equestria could have been if we hadn't started hooking up. Any reservations I might have once had about sleeping with a literal horse child have long ago disappeared; replaced instead with a deep feeling of general 'rightness' whenever we’re together. The rational part of my brain knows that these emotions exist mostly to justify my actions, but honestly, that part of my brain’s a buzzkill.
Our relationship moved past lust some time ago. What I feel for Sweetie Belle is definitely Love, with a capital L and everything. I don't care that most ponies think it’s totally wrong for an adult to be in love with a foal, because for the first time in a really long time, I feel complete.
Sweetie Belle and I are in love, and I’ll be damned if I let anypony get in the way of that.
Author's Note
Thanks to Snipinexpert and RyanBrony5 for proofreading and editing this chapter for me - it came out much better as a result! More will come... eventually. I'm not finished with this one yet!
After sexytime always comes bathtime.
Look, I know what you perverts are thinking, but you can put your dicks away for now. Take a break for a moment, maybe re-read the first chapter if you’ve really gotta rub one out right away. That’s what it’s there for, after all - to set the mood before the fluff dump. But don’t worry, there’s still gonna be some sweet sweet filly sex in your near future, so just hold tight.
As I was saying, after sexytime comes bathtime. Bathtime is important for a number of reasons - the most obvious being that if Sweetie Belle was to come home reeking of mare cum and dripping with my dude juices, well, I’m pretty sure even the ever-trusting ponies of Ponyville would start to notice. Taking a quick bath is a good way to wash away the evidence, which we both agree is a good thing overall.
There is a second, more subtle reason for bath time, however. One which is rarely spoken of, but just as important. I call it ‘Filly Time.’
Filly time is, quite simply, time dedicated to Sweetie Belle just acting like a filly.
I’ve been laying here on my bed all alone for a few minutes now, letting my mind wander into rather frightening territory. Thoughts like “Is this okay?” and “Am I fucking her life up?” swirl in my conscious mind as the post-coitus glow and horny fog clear away, making way for more rational thought. Well, semi-rational. Guilt tends to settle in when libido takes a hike, and guilt has a funny way of being just as self destructive.
I need a distraction, and it comes in the form of running water from my bathroom.
I chase the guilt away as I set about a new task, pulling on a pair of sweats and a slightly worn wife-beater - clothes I don’t mind getting wet - and make my way into the bathroom. Sweetie is busy adjusting the water and adding her various products to the luke-warm stew. Knobs turn and bottles fly through the air, all wrapped up in that familiar lime-green aura that is Sweetie’s special brand of magic, almost as unique to her as the stamp on her butt.
“You’re getting better at that,” I compliment as I take note of the number of objects being manipulated at a time. It wasn’t all that long ago that even basic telekinesis was a struggle for the young unicorn.
“Thanks! Rarity’s been teaching me how to multitask.” She doesn't look back from what she’s doing, but I can hear the pride in her voice, and it makes me smile. Once Sweetie is satisfied with the bubbly concoction, she turns to beam at me.
My bathtub is specially made for a human (which cost me a small fortune, by the way) which means it’s hard for a filly like Sweetie to climb inside on her own, but with a bit of struggling and only a tiny bit of help from me, she manages to plop herself into the water with a splash and an “oof!”
“Heh, nice one,” I joke as a bubble-clad head emerges from the fragrant waters, but my brevity is not without consequence. When a mischievous grin crosses Sweetie Belle’s face, I realize that I’m in trouble.
“Hah, take this!” Sweetie cries as a glowing green ball of bubbles comes flying at me from the tub. I throw my hands up to defend myself, but it’s no use; the amorphous blob squishes undeterred past my barrier and splats into my face!
“Gack! Hey, no fair!” I sputter as I wipe soap from my eyes. “Magic is cheating!”
Sweetie ignores me, as she’s too busy pointing a hoof and laughing.
“Nice beard, Anon!” she manages to spout through her peals of childish laughter.
“I’ll have you know,” I offer, once she’s calmed down a bit, “that in the Bubble Kingdom, we take our beards quite seriously.” I give my bubble beard a very gentlemanly stroke, which of course causes it to break apart in my hands, eliciting a chortle from the filly in the tub.
“Here,” I say, flashing an evil grin, “Why don’t you try one on!” Before Sweetie can react, I scoop up two big handfuls of bubbles and mush them in Sweetie’s face! Heh, revenge is sweet.
Sweetie wipes the bubbles from her eyes, leaving a nice bubbly strap upon her chin.
“My god,” I declare, procuring the small hand mirror Sweetie brought with her and allowing her to see my handiwork. “It’s... magnificent!”
Sweetie snorts again at her own reflection.
“I must say, my good sir, I think you’re onto something!”
For the next ten minutes or so, we play in the bubbles together, laughing and forming our bubble beards into various amusing shapes. Thanks to her magic, some of the beards we’re able to make are absolutely ludicrous, like long, twirly mustaches and magnificent braided dwarf beards (of course I’d told Sweetie all about the classic Earth tales of the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings, albeit a highly abridged and probably bastardized version). Eventually, of course, the bubbles start to fade, until all that remains is a sudsy residue on the water.
It’s time to get cleaning! Don’t you dare tell anypony this, but I actually really enjoy helping Sweetie wash up. My eyes scan the myriad of bottles and lotions that have started lining the shelves in my bathroom ever since Sweetie started coming around, but I honestly still can’t make heads or tails of what’s what. My own simple brand of shampoo, amusingly called ‘head and haunches’, stands out from the colorful bottles almost as much as a... well, a human buying shampoo in a crowded pony market.
I grab a bottle of pink-smelling liquid from the bunch which I think I remember using last time, and show it to Sweetie for verification. Sweetie just rolls her pretty green eyes at me and levitates another, nearly identical bottle from the shelf. I smile, snatching the new bottle out of the air and opening it, giving it a whiff.
“You have to start with the de-tangler, Anon. Otherwise you’re gonna yank on my mane and tail again!” The first time I’d tried to help Sweetie Belle bathe had been... something of a disaster. I vaguely remembered her explaining how the de-tangler was used first to magically de-tangle manes and tails for ‘ouch-less’ cleaning, and a quick look at the label reminds me of as much.
I squirt some into my hand, and the stuff immediately begins to glow and sparkle - a cheap spell to keep foals entertained in the bath, no doubt, but I must admit it works on displaced humans, too. I immediately begin to lather the substance into Sweetie’s mane, and true to it’s tagline, what few tangles there were seem to melt away. Once her mane is de-tangled and rinsed, I do the same for her tail, carefully but easily working out all the knots and tangles and rinsing it off in preparation for the next step.
After the de-tangler (with twenty-four hour anti-tangle protection!) comes the shampoo, and after that, conditioner. Now, I know full well that Sweetie is capable of doing all of this herself, but she enjoys the feeling of my fingers lathering the soap in her mane, and like I said before, I enjoy it, too. There’s something uniquely wholesome about the entire experience, and it feels good to treat Sweetie Belle like the child she still is.
Which leads me to the point of this entire bath-scene.
I’m sorry if you were hoping for another quick clop and ended up with some sappy slice of life crap instead, but it’s important to me that you understand that there’s more to my relationship with Sweetie than sex. I mean, the sex is great, don’t get me wrong. But, in a lot of ways, it’s also the one part of our relationship that I kind of regret.
Sweetie Belle is, after all, a foal. She’s a child, and it’s important to me that she get’s to actually be a child. Sex is a very adult activity, and in the beginning, I was worried that if our relationship focused exclusively on sex, it would force her to experience her childhood from a more adult perspective. I did not, and still do not, want her to grow up missing an important part of her childhood, all because of me. Foalhood, whatever, you know what I mean.
In order to avoid ruining her adolescent years, I make sure that whenever we hang out together, we always balance the sex with more wholesome, normal activities. That’s why bathtime and sexytime never, ever mix. When I’m finished with her mane and tail, I let her take care of her coat on her own, letting her take care of her bodily hygiene with some humility and privacy.
I won’t pretend that the idea never occurred to me that bath sex could be something great. How much fun would it be to rub one out of her while washing her naughty bits? Or to run my soapy hands over her damp coat, smoothly caressing her warm, wet little body as she shivers and moans in anticipation...
Ahem. As I was saying, it’s not like I never think about it. I do. A lot. But I resist the temptation, because for me, the purity of bathtime is sacred, and an important part of the time we spend together. If I am to ever corrupt bathtime, I might start a precedent where sex becomes omnipresent in our lives, and if I ever allowed that to happen, I would have to make a very difficult choice between my relationship with Sweetie Belle, and Sweetie Belle’s childhood developing without me.
That thought scares the shit out of me, even more than being caught and sent to the moon, or whatever happens to pedophiles in pony land.
Now, Sweetie is all cleaned up and climbing out of the bath, and I’m helping her towel off. Unlike her older sister, Sweetie’s mane and tail actually require very little work, inflating into that natural, pretty poof with little more than a brush and a drier. With Sweetie Belle all cleaned up and with no sign left of our carnal activities, I change out of my soaked clothing and we make our way to my living room where I help her with her homework, play a few board games with her, and eventually walk her home to her parents house, all without ever once mentioning sex.
As I make my way back home through the darkening streets of Ponyville, my mind begins to wander again, but this time, it’s a little more at peace. I still don’t know if what we’re doing is okay, or if I’m just being selfish by allowing this relationship to continue. But, at least, she seems happy, and for now, that’s good enough.
