Good Morning Sugarcube Corner
Good Morning Sugarcube Corner
The stallion winced as the bottles in the fridge rattled around. He opened the door to make sure nothing broke, and was rewarded for his frustrated fit with a broken bar on the shelf of the door. The baker hastily popped it in place and sighed, gently closing the door, and again wincing once more as the sound of bottles of condiments and whipped cream canisters rattled anyway. Carrot Cake simply turned around and walked to the front door, empty glass bottles of milk in hand, and set them on the porch for the milk pony. He paused to get the paper, as the papercolt rolled by on his bike, giving a wave. Mister Cake waved back. The dewey midsummer morning air was crisp this dawn, and the pale grey sky was just turning a citrusy red. He returned inside his residence and bakery, Sugarcube Corner.
As he turned around in the early morning, wearing nothing but his stubble, bathrobe, and slippers, morning paper under his arm, the stallion got to hear a cheerfully migraine-inducing sound. “Morning mister Cake!” Pinkie Pie shrilly called out, the adorable little teen bouncing down the stairs.
The stallion groaned internally, his anatomy still sore from last night, as he watched her bounce. And bounce. Oh, Celestia, so much bounce. He shook his head, breaking the fog in his hungover head. “Morning, Pinkie,” he said quietly, and slowly, smiling as he rubbed a temple.
“Long night?” Pinkie said, her oversized T shirt apparently her only pajamas. Didn’t she know they were due to open in two hours? It was hardly her first day on the job!
The stallion rubbed his scruff and nearly shut his eyes, nodding, sighing out, looking down to her body, not even thinking about it. “We’re… still trying for that foal. The wife had us drink a little too much wine,” he whispered, blushing slightly, sharing far too much.
The mare giggled and, without any warning, pecked his cheek. She glanced up the stairs and came to the shocked stallion’s ear, standing on her tippy hooves to place her cheek on his. “I heard everything,” she breathed, giggling adorably. “And I thiiiiink I can help,” she said, taking his hand, making him hold one of her big breasts. Eyes now dinner plates, the stallion’s yet to be washed groin had begun to stir again, rising like an athlete covered in sweat laboring to the field at the onset of unexpected overtime. It didn’t help one bit that Pinkie opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out, showing off a barbell piercing. Was that new?!
“Pinkie-” he began, but she was cutoff not by a finger to his lips, but inside his mouth. He lifted a thoroughly confused eyebrow, his mouth welling up with spit as he got a sudden taste of her skin, slightly salty, but oddly sweet. He had no clue where that thing had been, but now felt like brushing his teeth.
“Zinc. Oh, celery, pygeum, a few other hard to pronounce supplements will help, too.” She giggled and squeezed his hand under hers, sinking his digits into her flesh through that t-shirt, which looked suspiciously like the one he wore to Hoofstock over a dozen years ago. “Aaaaand,” she said, lifting the hem, showing her very slight belly as well as a deliciously sculpted tuft of pubic hair, neon pink like her personality. Just below that was a bright crimson thong, so tight, her lips were showing through. The way it rode high on her hip was sexy as well. “Spontaneity! Spontaneousness? Spon, spotoni, surprise! Ya gotta just WHISK her off her hooves and, ya knoooow,” she said, jabbing his ribs a little less than gently. “Pass, the gravy,” she whispered, giggling at the end. “Like this!” She dropped to her knees and pushed that robe open before he could even blink. The stallion, hands in the air by her head shivered, eyes crossing and rolling back as his sheath was slurped and sucked like a vacuum.
He got a breath and put both hands on her forehead, pushing firmly, yet gently. “Pinkie,” he hissed, glancing up at the staircase. It would be extremely easy to see them now, mid fellatio. “I’m married, you can’t, I, it’s ni-aaaahaahahah, oh, that’s nice, but, aaaaah, oh Cuppy’s never done tha-ah!” Was that the barbell, scraping gently along the bulging underside, that fleshy, squishy underbarrel? His cock had spilled free. The earth pony wasn’t lacking in any department down there, and when he looked down, that soldier was all mustered and ready for battle.
The young mare spat the stallion her father’s age out and got to her hooves, chin and cheeks glistening as the first rays of morning were trickling in through the old building’s windows. “I’ve got places for rolls in the hay all over, c’mon!” she said gaily, and took his hand. The stallion, now at full mast, sailed right along with her to the pantry. Pinkie closed the door behind them, and in the pitch dark, opened a door on the opposite side of the wall. “Come oooon, I’m horny too,” she said casually, stepping through a false door to a tiny little room with a bed and plenty of snack wrappers, even a little window, just enough light filtering in to see. He picked up a can of cocoa powder on the false shelf, he remembered buying this exact one not a week ago. The stallion was floored that the pantry he stocked for twenty years had a secret door!
“When did you-” before he could reply, his short mane was yanked down between her thick thighs.
“Ah, foreplay is very important,” she stated factually. Her little wet mouth let out a squeak as his muzzle hit her sopping wet clitoris. Pinkie hastily pulled her soaked thong aside, showing her pristine mare vulva. Cuppy Cake wasn’t quite this taut down there. The stallion began to lift his head when two hooves came around and forced his face down. “Nuh uuuh~! Now, spell your wife’s name with your tongue, one letter at a time. And remember,” she said, adopting a lecturative tone. Not that he could see, but her mane became straight, with two tones, pink and pink. “During cunnilingus, begin like a butterfly flapping its wings, and finish like a bull dog lapping up oatmeal.”
The image stopped Carrot in his tracks, his tongue had barely gotten a taste. “Go on! C…” she sang, stroking his coarse mane. He shook his head and sighed, thinking about his wife on their honeymoon, his roundish little honey bun. Eyes closed, he was between her thick thighs, her warm pussy so close. He gave it a soft lick, like a butterfly. He gulped, that strong, not quite fishy taste on his tongue. Oh god, it was delicious. He poked her winking clit, getting a gasp. Again, then moving down her outer lips, skiing, not scraping, til he felt that opening and the ledge leading up the other side.
“U…” or, “You,” he wasn’t sure. Carrot swallowed again. He started at her clit, then again, down the left, then up the right, barely even touching her. Pinkie shivered and gripped his mane tight. The stallion circled her clitoris and got quite the little squeak. He went down the wet left side faster and firmer, those skis digging into the powder.
He swallowed repeatedly and made that next C fast and weighty, dipping between those outer lips, the A had a few extra circuits about her firm clitoris, the spokes getting to dig into her vulva and push her lips apart from the inside, his teeth touching, now. That skating tongue broke the ice and dug deep for the K, his cheeks pushing left and right into her legs, his neck straining to move his face around. He looked up for the E, rapidly, forcefully, moaning even as he traced the horizontal spokes of the letter, breathing out hard over her wet skin. He then just went free form, licking her clit hard, staring up at that screwed shut face, grimace wide, teeth showing as she sucked air though them. The stallion dug his face down and up, left and right, groaning, biting softly, sucking, kissing, licking and gulping, panting, smooching, eating. He sat up and pushed Pinkie back by her little shoulders.
“Ah, yep, that’s the alphabet,” she timidly mumbled, both hooves touching the walls as he stood above her, robe open, long cock exposed. “Fuck,” she sighed. She reached up and pushed a few empty pudding containers and bottles of whatever off the window sill and reached to crack it. She pulled a pack of cigarettes from a drawer and, with damp, shaking hands lit the stick, taking a shallow drag. The cigarette flopped in her lips as she fished out a condom and hastily used her teeth to tear it open. The teen giggled, looking up. “You’re about to fuck your eighteen year old help, and you’re looking at me like I shouldn’t smoke. What? It’s a fetish!” she said defensively.
The mare sat up and rolled the rubber over his dark yellow cock, rock hard now, and laid back, giggling. She stroked her vulva, sighing out. The stallion swallowed, and then threw ten years of being a good colt out the cracked window. He pulled one out and lit it, that burning, that nicotine rush returning like a friend he should have never let back in. He took another drag. Pinkie blew her smoke in his face, and the stallion huffed his puff out his nostrils. The husband dipped his hips back and planted the head on her sopping wet, winking horse pussy. “You asked for this,” he grunted, and popped inside. Even with the condom, he gasped, throat caught in his throat, shivering as the heat hit him. He dipped his head and rocked his hips shallowly, soaking his hard cock in her juicy, dripping pussy, then kept sinking inside, making the little mare moan into the air. He quickly silenced her with a hand over her mouth, panting out himself as he finally hit her bottom, just an inch still exposed. He pushed forward, sinking that last inch inside, their hips touching, his body stretching hers from the inside. He figured the way her eyes twitched and unfocused would be a sight hard to forget.
She took his hand and moved it, smiling up to him. “This is what you need,” she whispered. “Give your wife this hard cock. Just steal her away, pump her hard, that’s what mares love!” She made her touch her neck and giggle. “Some mares like to be controlled in bed, too, and from what I heard you were apologizing and asking as much as you were humping. Just, do what feels good and go! You know her, you know what she likes, ah, and doesn’t.”
He panted as he trembled, feeling his whole cock throb inside her. Mister Cake nodded and began to thrust, gently. Pinkie bit her lip and stared up, stroking his stallionly arms. But that lustful look grew bored quick. “Uh, it’s called fucking,” she said ashing in an old container of, she squinted to read the label, yes, gummy worms. “Ya gotta, you know, fuck me. Come on!” she giggled, wrapping her hooves behind his butt and making the colt buck. “Ah! Ah, yes, that’s good, you try.”
“I won’t hurt you?” he asked, taking a drag himself. “M-My first marefriend back in school, she, I was too big and-”
She shook her head. “Come on, you’ve never really had sex if the mare doesn’t walk funny the next day,” she said, giggling.
The husband began to draw his hips back, then let them fall with a little wet clap. He did it again, and again! Oh this was good, this was so good, this was it. He closed his eyes and began to breathe out hard. “Pumpkin,” he moaned, leaning over and hugging her tight. He kissed her, tasting that nasty cigarette on her lips, but he didn’t care. Carrot moaned into her mouth, shoving his tongue inside, his balls flying up and down as his hips rapidly pumped his wife’s, no, Pinkie’s pink pussy. He panted in her ear, that pressure already there. “Ah, I’m getting close,” he sighed, smiling. “I want to cum inside,” he breathed, kissing her ear.
“Do it, Carrot,” she hissed, huffing softly. “Give me your cum, let it all inside!”
She began to arch her back and push her plush body up into his, their breath hot over each other’s faces. “Call me your husband, honey baby,” he whispered, his thrusts rolling and deep, faster and faster, making her body and his join at every interface. Carrot snuck an arm under her head and buried her face in his neck, he continued to suck air by her ear.
Pinkie squeaked and whined softly, lifting her face to lick his jaw. “Oh, hubby, make me a mommy,” she sang sweetly. “We can do it, I want it more than anything. Cum inside, you big, sexy stallion of mine!”
Somehow, that made things worse. He wasn’t fantasizing, he was doing, he was cheating! He gulped, his flaring cock on fire, even through the rubber she felt tight and hot and amazing. He shivered, eyes wide as he realized what was happening.
He was going to cum balls deep in the eighteen year old they hired to help around the kitchen.
“Ah!” One gasp was all the warning she got. Carrot stood tall on his straight arms, his hips heavily shoving deep, deep into the mare. He realized mid ejaculation what he was doing and pulled out. He panted, his heart made of lead as he anticipated the worst. But, to his endless joy, the rubber was intact, and filling with his sperm. He laid the erupting organ on her belly and let it do its job, and fill that rubber with his seed.
Pinkie was speechless, smiling ear to ear, cigarette chomped between her teeth, fingers rubbing her clit, the back of her hand jostling his big cock. She took a long drag, and as soon as he was finished, blew it in his face. Carrot laughed and sat back, spent, eyes foggy and everything just, well, good. Everything in the world, was just good. Fantastic, even.
He took a long drag and shifted to sit alongside her. Pinkie scooted close and began to take the rubber off, careful of the hot cum welled up at the tip. She pulled it off as he wrapped his arm around her. “What’cha gonna do with that?” he asked dreamily.
She giggled. “Want me to drink it?” she asked in a whisper, biting her lip, stroking his drained balls.
The gears inside his head had no teeth, ground off by that question and now freewheeling. They were spinning, but no actual thoughts were being processed. “B-uh, dri… what?”
She pulled her fluffy mane back and donned a smug face. Eyes on his, she simply slurped the opening into her mouth and inverted the rubber. She hummed, emptying it like a tube of toothpaste, the white sauce slowly filling her mouth. Pinkie showed off her tongue, soaking in a thick, viscous layer. Carrot’s cock was stirring again, the corners of his agape mouth smiling slightly, his eyes fixed on her mouth. In a slow, loud gulp, all that seed was gone, and Pinkie was GIGGLING! She showed off her “clean” throat, that barbel on her tongue now not submerged in cum.
“Tasty,” she said sweetly, stroking his thigh. The teen bent over and kissed his cockhead and got up, pulling her shirt down over her huge tits and fixing her sexy panties. “Better give the wife the same treatment today, okay? Oh, and here,” she said, reaching behind the cocoa on the shelf to produce a small bottle of pills. “Here’s the zinc! It’s great in, well, nothing, really, but it’ll help that sperm count. Didn’t taste like it was lacking,” she teased.
“Do you smell smoke?” she said, sniffing. “Like, besides our smokes, I mean.”
Carrot looked down and saw his tail somehow begun to burn, flames licking his side. “Oh, shoot!”
