The gentle sound of a breeze in her ears turned into a deafening roar. Muffins pushed the pedals of her bicycle, rushing down the dirt path in the middle of the, large, green forest. The day was perfect for a bike trip; while the sun was high, it was partially obscured by clouds. It wasn’t too hot, but it didn’t seem like it was going to rain either. Between the old trees, it was somewhat chilly – just enough to protect Muffins from overheating, dehydration, and other less-than-fun effects of physical activity.
Muffins, however, knew better than to trust the weather. She’d put on her brightly-coloured soft shell jacket, but it was currently unzipped, revealing a sports bra and well-toned stomach muscles. However, after a particularly demanding hill, she took off the jacket, tying the sleeves around her waist.
She took a deep breath, looking around. The part of the forest she was in was pretty far away from the town; no one seemed to be there, except of the birds chirping in the foliage. Muffins smiled, feeling her tense muscles loosen. She took a sip of water and rubbed her thighs before hopping on the bicycle again.
She rode across the clearing, noticing several bunnies running away from her bicycle. As far as she recalled, there was another big hill on her way, so she braced herself and changed the gear to a lower one. Although hanging out with Indigo and other people who’d motivate her to work out did wonders to her thighs and calves, she still thought her stamina could use some improvement.
Pain hit her thighs nevertheless; Muffins gritted her teeth, leaning forward and pushing the pedals as hard as she could. Sweat flowed down her forehead. She wiped it with her fingerless glove and clenched her hands on the handlebars. The path was a bit wet from the previous rain and the tyres were slipping, not helping Muffins at all. Her bicycle was somewhat old; it made all kinds of strange noises. So far, it’d never fallen apart completely, but with each second Muffins thought that it could be the day this would happen.
Finally, she reached the top of the hill. Sweat was dripping from her; she struggled to catch a breath and was afraid to take a look at her heart rate monitor. While it wasn’t quite like her ‘ill-fated attempt at beating Indigo’s rowing machine record-level of being tired, it was pretty close. At least she didn’t feel like puking this time.
Muffins smirked, recalling the rowing machine incident. Actually, she didn’t actually throw up, no. She had quite a good spaghetti before going to the gym and she felt it’d be a crime to let it go to waste like that.
She pushed the brakes and jumped off her bicycle. Her legs were shaking slightly, but it was nothing a few minutes of rest couldn’t fix. Also, Muffins remembered two things: that there were still more hills waiting for her and that she drank a lot before the trip to keep herself hydrated.
The latter was less of a thought and more of a physical feeling. Still, it gave Muffins a bright idea – it’d be easier for her to ride up the hills if she was lighter.
She looked around. The situation most definitely demanded a shrubbery. Luckily for Muffins, the path led her through dense groundcover and foliage, consisting mostly of steeplebush. Besides, no one seemed to be there anyway. Muffins didn’t mind the audience much, but she was aware that the audience could mind her. Especially animals didn’t seem to like someone marking their territory.
Muffins rested her bike against a tree in a place where she could see it easily. Even in the most uninhabited of places, there was always someone who could steal it. Muffins had a dream once, about squirrels taking her bicycle for a spin. She couldn’t take any risks, even if she thought the dream was nuts. The squirrels were just completely untrustworthy.
Once she was sure her trusty bike was safe, she hid behind a tall bush and lowered her shorts and panties, revealing her well-toned butt, slightly more pale than her skin tone. She looked around again before squatting and relaxing her muscles.
Urine pooled on the ground beneath her as she sighed with relief. Muffins spread her legs slightly and grabbed the back of her jacket, yanking it upwards – she knew her luck all too well and soaked shoes or jacket were the last thing she wanted or needed. She sighed with relief, looking back at the steady stream.
It took her a while before it thinned and changed into single drops she wiped with a tissue. With all the water she managed to sweat out before, she was quite surprised by the size of the yellowish puddle. How it didn’t make her squirm during the ride was a mystery.
“Guess I’m all sore down there... “ she muttered, patting her butt. Her bicycle, great as it was, was built in the times when suspension was considered to be an unnecessary luxury. Therefore, any bumpy road was a great exercise for anyone who wanted to be able to crack nuts with their glutes or follow a fruitful career as a professional anal slut.
Muffins could already do the former and stopped thinking about the latter after that one time when she had to drive Flash Sentry to the ER with a bag of ice on his crotch and a dart stuck dangerously close to his eye.
Muffins chuckled at this memory and pulled up her panties. She was about to grab her shorts, when she got another idea.
She looked around, searching for a bush. It couldn’t be the same bush she’d just peed under; that’d be just gross. Muffins walked to another shrub and put her jacket on the ground, watching the surface carefully. She was sure there was someone with a Lyme disease fetish, but she most definitely wasn’t one of those people. Especially since getting ticks out of her ass was a real pain in, well, the ass.
She took off her panties again, leaving them hanging around her ankles, and sat on her jacket, leaning back and stretching her arms. She relaxed her muscles, lowering her right hand and running her fingers across the tuft of blonde hair right above her labia.
Lying down, Muffins smirked, thinking of Flash. It wasn’t quite necessary; the very thought of doing it in the woods, where someone could see her, was exciting enough to make her shudder. However, it was still funny to imagine all those times when they did have sex.
Or all those times when they didn’t. For example, that one time in the mall toilet stall which was just too small for them, with plywood walls they could accidentally smash. Or when she brought whipped cream and whips. Or when Muffins said she’d let Flash do butt stuff, but he ran away before she even managed to spread her cheeks. She tried to explain to him that she only let guys she loved do that, but he didn’t want to come back.
On a second thought, she shouldn’t have called him “chicken”.
Muffins chuckled, grabbing her phone and removing her bra. She then took a selfie – once she’d get to a place with better reception, Flash would be quite surprised.
“21st century,” she muttered to herself, rubbing her clit with her fingers. “One can’t even have a wank in the woods without taking a pic. Wonder how Vignette Valencia is doing it… She probably keeps a file somewhere, with the photo of every place she’d ever masturbated in.”
The mental image made her legs tremble. A few drops of fluid escaped her lips and she smeared them on her fingers. Muffins was straight and Vignette wasn’t exactly her type—she’d thought her and most of internet celebrities to be rather shallow—but this wasn’t enough to stop her mind from thinking about tapping that.
Muffins slid her middle and index finger inside her vagina, thinking, for lack of a better idea for a memory flick, about Vignette. Outside the cameras and internet popularity, she must’ve been what Muffins often called Red October – that is, a huge sub. The one that licks feet and lets unwashed, sweaty ruffians sit on her face.
Muffins’ hand stopped. She was still mad at Flash for running away – she’d spent a whole day preparing her anus and it all went to waste. Soon, however, Vignette appeared in her mind again.
Muffins’ imagination went wild. She rubbed her fingers against her clit, moaning in pleasure. Would Vignette have a sex tape? Muffins thought that, being an internet celebrity, she probably kept those in a cloud rather than on tape. There’d probably be a place for one more, featuring Vignette trying to get Muffins to follow her profile, like she was the last person in the world who didn’t do so.
Of course, as Muffins thought while playing with her pussy, it wouldn’t be easy to get her to do that. Vignette in a maid costume probably wouldn’t do. Muffins imagined she’d have to get the ropes and a whip. And possibly also the whipped cream.
The mental image of the hapless celebrity getting bound and gagged in the middle of Muffins’ bedroom made her chuckle. She raised her hand and licked her fingers, savouring the taste of her juices. What’d she do with Vignette anyway? Make her clean her bicycle and touch herself while watching?
She looked at her bicycle; the first spikes of pleasure were already running down her nerves, but she could still see it definitely needed cleaning. That was, however, not the time and place. Muffins rubbed one of her breasts, panting. Blood rushed to her cheeks as she threw her head back, gritting her teeth.
Each move of her fingers sent a new wave of pleasure up her spine. She tried not to moan too loudly in case someone was there, but she still let out a long sigh. Slowing down, she took a few deep breaths, letting the pleasure sink in before building up again.
Muffins rolled on the ground, kneeling briefly before dropping on all four and reaching back to her pussy. She noticed a few wet spots on her jacket and saw that her hand was all slippery with juices. There were twigs and dry leaves in her hair, but she hardly cared. Instead, she rubbed her inner lips with her index finger and fiddling around her anus with her thumb.
She had to admit, she liked her backdoor as much as the main entrance; there were no doubts about it. The forest wouldn’t be the best place to go full stuff in, but she decided to save that for her before-sleep masturbation session. Maybe those weren’t as adventurous as playing in the woods, but at least she had access to the box under her bed. In the box, there were more things than were dreamt in Flash Sentry’s philosophy.
If her body wasn’t currently high on endorphins, Muffins would sigh with disappointment. Flash definitely didn’t share some of her wilder ideas, but he was slowly opening up. Muffins sometimes thought about inviting him to a bike ride.
Currently, however, she had another ride on her mind. She slapped her cheek, bending over further and imagining someone sneaking from behind to mount her. Maybe even a horny bear, although Muffins wasn’t much into furry things. She left those to Fluttershy.
She bucked her hips in a steady rhythm, frantically running her fingers along her clit. Occasionally, she’d take a short break to casually smear the excess juices against her ass or thigh and wait for her body to cool down a bit.
Muffins closed her eyes. Her breath became quick and ragged. Her hand moved sloppily inside of her pussy and although she kept trying to delay the inevitable, the climax was approaching fast. The image of naked Vignette Valencia blurred in her mind; she let out a scream as her nerves lit on fire, sending her tumbling on the ground.
She exhaled sharply, feeling the torrent of juices escaping her lips and staining her fingers. Lying on her back, she moaned, still feeling pleasure spreading throughout her body. Her tense muscles relaxed; her vision slowly sharpened and her breath steadied. She realised she was lying half-naked on the ground, surrounded by dry leaves that had apparently been thrown in all the directions.
Smirking, Muffins pulled up her panties, knowing well that they’d become soggy with her juices by the time she’d get home. It didn’t matter much; the first thing she’d do after coming back would be a shower anyway.
She grabbed her jacket and put it on. Then, she removed some leaves and twigs from her hair and grabbed her bicycle.
As she soon found out, it was about time to come back. It was already afternoon and when Muffins finally left the forest, she found out that all the drivers became crazy for some reason. She wasn’t even breaking any rules, but the cars kept swerving when their drivers noticed her. A really big truck had to brake hard near her. Muffins pedalled faster in order to avoid getting crushed. Sweat stained her forehead; cycling and other forest activities were really tiring.
Soon after that, she witnessed another accident. Big Macintosh looked at her briefly and at the same moment, he hit the car in front of him from behind. Muffins briefly considering coming back to them, but when she saw Applejack yelling at her brother, she decided to go home.
Finally, after carefully navigating between the cars stuck in a traffic jam, she arrived home. She put her bike in her basement and walked upstairs. Her legs were trembling and all she wanted was a shower and a nap; she could technically do without a shower, but she didn’t want her bed to stink.
Muffins opened the door of her flat and untied her shoes. She was just carrying them to the closet, when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
It was quite a picturesque sight. She was drenched in sweat and her face and arms were scratched in a few places. There were still some twigs in her hair, somehow. Her clothes were dirty, with large patches of mud and dust.
Also, most importantly, she’d forgotten her bra. Her jacket was unzipped, revealing her perky, well-rounded breasts to the whole world. Muffins had nothing against that—she thought it was a shame to hide them—but then she remembered the strange behaviour of drivers on her way home.
“Ah,” she said, smirking and admiring her boobs in the mirror. “That explains many things…”
