A Filly Named Jailbait

This is *not** good.*

Jailbait is nestled between your legs, trying to undo your belt with her wings. Ambrosia is completely oblivious as she sets your plate down in front of you. Fortunately, the tablecloth reaches halfway to the floor, so the filly is hidden as long as she stays quiet. You're more worried about yourself, though, because keeping a straight face is not going to be easy.

"Enjoy! I put some coffee on, so that'll be ready in a few minutes," Ambrosia sets her own plate down and starts to sit in the chair across from you before bouncing back up. "Oh, my!"

Well, that didn't last long. Thankfully, Jailbait still hasn't conquered the belt, so the situation doesn't look nearly as bad as it is.

"I didn't even ask if you like coffee." Ambrosia takes a step back toward the kitchen. "Do you want me to get you something else to drink?"

Oh. I'm not sure if it's good or bad that she hasn't noticed. "Coffee is fine. I usually make a pot for myself, but I couldn't exactly get to it without my keys," you say with an awkward laugh.

"Oh, don't worry about that! Everypony is forgetful, sometimes." She sits back down and picks up her fork and knife using the physics-defying abilities of pony hooves. You grab your own fork and start cutting into the omelette. "I hope I made enough for someone as large as you. If not, I have plenty of ingredients to make more."

While you're pretty sure you could eat another two or ten, you really want this meal to be over as quickly as possible. Jailbait finally got your belt off and is now working on the button. She must be too small to reach it with her mouth or hooves, because she's still using her wings.

"No ma'am, this is plenty." Please, just shut up and eat.

You take a large bite and find it to be even better than the bread pudding was, and much less sweet. You're very thankful that Ambrosia chose to make omelettes instead of pancakes; you have a feeling she'd cover them in chocolate and syrup, and you doubt could survive that much sugar.

Midway through your second bite, you feel a sharp pain when Jailbait kicks your left shin, making you bite your cheek. You don't need to see the filly to know she's glaring at you impatiently. She taps your crotch a few times with a wing, using a bit more force than necessary. The message is clear: pants off. You're sorely tempted to ignore her since she can't seem to do it herself, but you shudder at the potential punishment for disobeying.

Giving in like the pussy you are, you surreptitiously slide your left hand off the table and start to undo your pants. The button comes undone fairly easily, but you don't want to risk the zipper making any noise, so you hesitate a bit. A sharp pain in your other shin lets you know what Jailbait thinks of that. Her mother comes to the rescue.

"I think the coffee is done, now. How do you take yours?"

"Just a bit of sugar, please."

Ambrosia trots back to where she belongs, and you quickly use both hands to unzip your pants. Another set of tapping informs you that isn't enough.

"Pull them to your knees," Jailbait whispers. "Underwear, too."

I'm definitely gonna get caught.

Now sitting with your bare ass on the cushion, you feel the filly's wings go to work. The soft tickling sensation brings you back to full arousal in no time.

"Here you go!" Ambrosia's voice makes you jump. She sets both mugs down and slides yours across to you. You grab it with trembling hands and take a sip, ignoring the heat. You burn your tongue, but you don't care; anything to distract your mind from the wonderful, feathery grip on your cock.

"What's wrong, Anon? Did I use too much pepper in the omelette?" the oblivious mare asks with concern in her voice. You realize your face is burning red, and you're sweating a bit.

"N-no ma'am, it's fine. I just burrnnnnedmymouthonthecoffee!" Jailbait ramps up her efforts when you speak, clearly trying to make this as difficult for you as possible.

Ambrosia just laughs. "Yeah, you need to careful about that! Noble does the same thing when he drinks anything hot."

You don't respond, not trusting your voice. Instead, you take another bite and pray to the pony gods for a swift death.

Jailbait really knows what she's doing. She brings you to the edge of orgasm, and then keeps you there. When you reflexively buck into her wings, she releases her grip for a few seconds before repeating the process. You're now panting, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You don't know what the fuck is wrong with Ambrosia, because she continues to eat, nearly finished with her plate.

You start shoveling omelette into your mouth, choking it down with more burning coffee. The oblivious mare doesn't even blink at the disgusting display. Fucking ponies, man. You swallow the mass of eggs in your mouth right as she takes her last bite. Meanwhile, Jailbait continues to stroke away at an agonizing pace, smearing your precum into her feathers.

"I'll take that for you, dear." You didn't notice Ambrosia get up, but she's now reaching for your plate and mug, looking much more awake since drinking her coffee. You place your empty mug on the plate and slide them over, unable to hide the trembling in your hands. Once again, the light blue mare remains ignorant and trots off to the kitchen with both plates on her back.

The heavenly wingjob comes to an abrupt stop. You see Jailbait peek out from under the table and glance toward the kitchen. She then turns to you with a cold stare.

"That's for leaving without permission. You may go now."

She dashes off to a side door, leaving you rock-hard and unsatisfied. You quickly pull up your pants before Ambrosia gets back, shuddering at the cloth rubbing against your sensitive member. You immediately realize what just occurred. You can't finish until you leave, and your erection will be gone by then.

You just got blue-balled by a filly.

Gathering your broken spirit, you step into the kitchen.

"Thank you for the meal, it was delicious," you mumble in a dead voice.

"It was my pleasure, Anon!" You wish it was yours.

"See you next week, Mrs. Ambrosia." You start to drag your feet down the hallway leading to the exit.

"Bye, Anon! Have a nice day!"

The walk home is uneventful, but you can already feel the pain starting to gather in your groin. When you finally reach your apartment, the single pony inside gives you a strange look as you slowly waddle to your room.