Bing Ding
“hrmf”
Bing Dingaring Bingadingring
“Customers!” With a start, Pumpkin Cake jumped out of bed and galloped downstairs to answer the bell.
One Golden Cherry looked less ready for the day than our Pumpkin, for her mane was just as unkempt and whose eyes carried the dead tired look that accompanied most non-morning ponies awoken too early.
Golden greeted her thus; “Hi, morning, am I too early, Pumpkin? I have a busy day ahead of me and needed to get started early, and so I was hoping to get breakfast beforehoof.”
“Oh, it’s okay, Golden. You’ll just have to wait a little longer than usual since we haven’t started the prepwork. I’ll have Pound get to it while I take your order.”
Before needing to be summoned, Pound descended the stairs with a slow gait, asking Pumpkin, “Did we forget to lock up last night for closing?”
Pumpkin skipped past the question and replied, “Golden Cherry needs an early breakfast, could you get started in the kitchen?”
“Sure”, he replied, soon followed by the sound of pots and sheets clanking down and bags being opened and poured.
Pumpkin turned to face Golden, “So, what’ll you have?”
“I’ll have two number nines, a number nine large, a number six with extra cream, a number seven, two number forty-fives—one with cream-cheese, and a large smoothie.”
“Oh goodness, is this for the whole day? Well, which flavor smoothie would you like?”
“Oh, yeah, may as well get it all at once. I’ll take that lovely rose-strawberry flavor you have. Mind if I sit and watch you cook while I wait?”
“No problem. I’ll help Pound finish as soon as possible.”
“I’m sure you will...” Golden quipped below auditory range, with a smirk. Truth be told, she always thought the twins were cute together, and harbored a secret desire to see them romance. The taboo of siblings getting together merely tingled her in just the right spot in her psyche.
The siblings, being the offspring of bakers, already were synchronized in their dance of baked goods preparation, despite their waning grogginess. One would empty a bag of haymeal whilst the other would add a jug of milk, immediately followed by a bag of sugar from one and a bag of flour from the other. Bouncing upon but one leg, Pumpkin would finish adding the ingredients while Pound stirred the bowl, and the same moment Pound had the right consistency stirred Pumpkin would have grabbed a lump to start kneading into a large cinnamon roll, followed by two normal sized ones. Pound would by then have started on another item with Pumpkin not far behind. Golden enjoyed seeing their performance, some combination of an oddly-satisfying production line and a well-choreographed and -practiced ballet. Once all confectious pre-goods were in the oven, the twins made to rest in front of it, only to bumble slightly and so their hind legs crossed as they laid down.
Golden peered with salacious curiosity, as for just a moment, Pound’s leg was cradled between Pumpkin’s breasts. She silently cheered them to get even closer, and began imagining them snuzzling before her. But a nuzzle nor a snuggle did the twins engage, merely did they abashedly mouth “sorry!” to each other before awkwardly standing and placing themselves further apart. Golden’s smirk waned in response.
Pumpkin thought to start early on Golden’s smoothie, though at the moment she knew there wouldn’t be anything for Pound to do, and in addition she wasn’t sure if their display had offended their guest; so instead she had Pound begin the smoothie while she went to speak with Golden.
“Well, sorry for that, that awkward display; we’re usually not in such a hurry this early and—”
“Oh no worries! I got you two up, and besides you two look beautiful together… cooking! I mean, you two flow harmoniously together, it was fun to watch!”
“Oh, alright. I guess I’ve never really thought of that before. We just… do it.”
“Oh yes you do~”, Golden blurted, and in an instant of surprise and slight regret, she decided not to continue trying to amend her language. Besides, any normal, innocent pony conversation would never have even the slightest hint of innuendo, right?
Pumpkin then eyed Golden with a peculiarly curious glance for a rough few seconds, before simply shrugging it off. She trot back to the kitchen, figuring she may as well get started on the day’s regular offerings.
Just a couple minutes later, Pound brought the first half of Golden’s order to the counter. He wasn’t aware that Golden had watched, nor did he know of any odd sayings or sightings related to her perception. He noticed that her eyes momentarily glistened and slightly fluttered when she received him, and so he began to suspect that she might have an attraction toward him. But as anyone who has worked retail knows to do, he abided the professional courtesy rule of ignoring anything not pertinent to the service of the customer.
“That’ll be twenty-four Bits”, Pound said as he lifted the second half of the order up. “You’re pretty busy today, huh?”
“Yeah, but probably not as busy as you two will be.” She half-winked. Pound didn’t seem to notice.
“Not really, it’ll probably be just another Tuesday.”
“Well, I know I’ll have a good day thanks to you filling your swee—you and your sister’s filling sweets, and I hope you two have a loving—lovely day!”
“Thanks, you too, and will do.” Pound wondered upon the mare’s odd (mis?)use of language, and choked on an errant thought involving he, his sister, and a tube of icing. He mentally waved it off.
Author's Note
My computer BSOD'd twice while writing just this chapter.
Back in the kitchen, Pound approached Pumpkin.
“I wonder what’s got Golden Cherry so… flustered this morning. She was stumbling over her words like… a mare in heat. Oh.”
“Well, she’s not the only one in heat. I didn’t realize it until you… grazed my underside, but I think I’m starting today.”
“Wow, I’m even more sorry now. Good thing no one saw our little misshap.”
“Uhh, yeah, good thing!” Pumpkin lightly faux-laughed and shifted her eyes around, trying to sound convincing. Luckily for her, Pound was busy working on the next batch of goods. Unluckily for her, the awoken biological drive within her controlled her subconsciousness, while she gazed upon Pound kneading some dough for some pies. She was enraptured by how he put his full body into his work; reeling on his hind legs, he pushed forward on the roller, back and forth, pace quickening as he zoned into baking with efficiency.
He turned to grab some pie pans, breaking her trance, but not in time.
“Uhh, why are you staring?” Pound inquired.
“I uhh, was just wondering what I should get started on next. We’ve got cinnabons, you’re on pies...”
“So that means you’re on cakes?” Pound not-so-subtly hinted.
“Right!”
She set about to creating their namesakes, and pondered upon the etymology of such. “Creating Cakes… Cake-reations? Heh. Maybe we could make a sign for it...”
She then blushed profusely when she realized that a sign for “Cake-reations” could, by ponies in the ~~right~~ wrong mood, read it as “Cock Reactions”. Or if an even more wrong mood, they might think the sign meant something along the lines of “responses of a male chicken”… which itself could be a euphemism of the carnal practices.
“I gotta stop thinking about cocks.” Pumpkin tried hard, but as psychologists note, when trying not to think about something, minds usually think harder on it. And for Pumpkin, the thought of a cock being made hard was filling her imagination. She wished she could fill something else.
“Hey, can you help me fill this pastry?” Pound interrupted. Pumpkin snapped her attention to him, with a flush, and noticed he had finished with the morning batch of pies. He was rolling more dough and beside him were bowls of various pastry fillings. She trot over to apply said fillings to his expanding sheet of dough. Their routine became such of him mixing, kneading dough, her smothering it with sweet jams, icings, and creams, then rolling and cutting, and finally baking these pastry rolls.
The heat of the kitchen did nothing to help her rather warm body, nor did the close proximity to a ~~virile stud~~ ~~eligible bachelor~~ physically well-developed colt. At times, their work would overlap and so would their bodies. As he pushed forward with a roller to flatten the dough, she would apply filling to the previously flattened piece, and so their bodies beat side-by-side in rhythm.
All of a sudden they were done with this particular dish, and Pound vocalized an idea; “We should probably take a break, since the ovens are full and it’s getting hot in here.”
“That’s a good idea, I’ll go get wet—I MEAN cool off in the tub for a few minutes.”
“Gross, sis.” He jested with a roll of his eyes.
“You know what I meant!”
She trotted off before any more embarrassment could be generated. Pound took a deep breath, followed by a sigh.
“Well, all that… activity, seems to have made me… gah I better go take care of this.” Pound felt some pride in how he had kept himself professional and decent, but then shame at even having to need to restrain his colthood in the presence of his sister. His TWIN sister, at that. Still, he didn’t want any more distraction in the kitchen, for it was hard enough not to accidentally slip inside certain warm, moist places while making the dessert rolls.
Walking1 past the bathroom door, which was closed (he was both thankful and slightly dissappointed that he couldn’t watch Pumpkin catching a cool dip), he made his way to the twins’ bedroom, and shut that door. He laid on their bed, momentarily getting lost in the sweet pumpkin scent of his sister, before questioning why he and his sister even shared a bed; they weren’t filly/foal anymore. With a portion of shame, he decided it’d be better to focus on some other mare than her.
“Well, Golden Cherry seemed to like me this morning...” And so his ministrations became dedicated to the visual cues Golden had subconsciously expressed in reflection to his attractiveness, as he perceieved. The fluttering of her eyes, the wavering of her voice turning sultry... However, his thoughts then made a connection. “She said ‘you filling your swee(t)...’, which at first I thought was a slip of saying she wanted me to fill herself… but that sounds more like… she wanted me to...” his mind raced, and his hooves worked harder, better, faster, stronger, on his thickened member as he recited and completed his thought. “She wanted me to fill my sister!”
This wonderful, awful idea coincided with one of his most pleasurable releases to date, with a spurting of this liquid pleasure hitting the ceiling above. It also coincided with the opening of the bedroom door, for Pumpkin had heard him yell “fill my sister!” during his climax. If his heart wasn’t pumping as if burning nitrous before, it certainly was pounding furiously now. His startled eyes focused on her intrusion, like radar dishes on a surprise signal from space. His hooves froze in place, though his member gave one last shudder, throwing a globlette of goop in her direction.
Pumpkin’s eyes matched those of Pound, and her mouth was agape until that final spurt made airtime. Although she was nowhere near enough for it to contact her, she still shut her mouth in reflex, until she was certain his body was done.
“You… wanted to fill me...” Pumpkin factually stated more than inquired. Although she had cooled herself just fine in the bath, her nethers twitched without her command. She shook her head (more of a jerk, really) and quickly said, “I’m sorry for intruding,” while turning and leaving.
Pound tried to vocalize an apology but the words stopped in his throat; and the door was shut again anyway. He sat a moment before deciding he’d better clean up, and put his feelings on the back burner. By now, there would almost certainly be customers to tend to, and he didn’t need to make them feel uninvited.
Pumpkin, after fleeing the scene in the bedroom, also decided it’d be best to try to shut her feelings off. “It’s just something colts have to do,” she thought. “He totally meant something else. Maybe he wanted me to eat something nice or… well it’s nothing that can be helped, either way, and I need to help these customers who just entered.”
Pound, having made himself presentable, hurried into the kitchen to begin filling the orders that Pumpkin took. A busy, though normal, breakfast came and went with little to note, other than a marked determination that had set on the twins and a subtle air of trepidation between the two that only astute observers could note. The brunch hours arrived with the usual wane of patrons, so Pumpkin entered the kitchen to get started on the lunch hour regulars’ meals.
Pound’s heart, true to his name, decided to pound harder than necessary, so Pound doubled down on his efforts to pound into obedience whatever confectioneries found themselves in way of his hooves, including especially the day’s pound cake by Pound Cake.
“Well pounded,” he thought. “~~That’s enough with the pounding get on with the pounding!” Raged the audience.~~ 2
So engrossed with his pounding3, he did not realize Pumpkin had sidled up behind him, grabbing and then squeezing a tube of icing to coat a cake. Pound turned around to also grab the icing, his front hoof reaching out to—
“Eep!” squeaked Pumpkin as Pound’s hoof smacked her (admittedly soft and plush) flank. He froze. She froze. My computer froze. Into the confectionery walked a trio of zebras with afros.
“I, uhh, wow. Maybe I should just stay in bed today.” Pound shrank into himself.
“No, don’t, I’d have to go to bed with you.” Pumpkin reddened in her cheeks. Pound noticed this, along with her tail being raised higher than usual and… the prettiest of dew-dropped flowers residing a hoof-width’s below her tail. He couldn’t help but sense an intense scent, some wonderful aroma most closely described as a mixture of “pumpkin”, “springtime”, “cake”, and “tingly sparkles” (how “tingly sparkles” is a smell is beyond my own understanding, but I swear it exists). Similar to how she smells after a nice bath, but electrified.
“Umm, I don’t think you’d want—” She cut him off.
“—You to fill me up?” she asked so sweetly, so innocently, yet so sensually, though Pound interpreted it as a taunt.
"Ig-hm-hgm” he gulped. In impossible defiance of his physiology, he physically sweat through his fur. He knew he was boned, and he doubted he could ever be in the same room as his sister again.
“Here, I’ll let you squeeze the icing out.” She hoofed him the tube. “It’s almost out, we’ll have to make more soon.”
Trembling, our colt took the tube and finished icing her cake while she stepped off to the side. He didn’t want to make a bigger mess of things, so he poured all his attention (and icing) into the cake, to give a good and full filling and an even, luster coat all around. Once he finished, he turned to get approval from Pumpkin…
...and saw that she was staring intently upon his dong. Her eyes glistened like a young foal seeing the second ice cream they’ve ever had, her tongue lolled over her hanging jaw with anticipation, and her tail was high in the air as though she were putting her goods on display for some unknown audience. His dick jerked out, happy to oblige the mare’s focus. Its mind having no care whatsoever for who was the one gazing upon it in lust.
He stood there, wondering what was going to happen next. After a moment, Pumpkin looked up, blushing so red she could have been Big Mac’s twin sister instead.
“Pumpkin… the cake is done… what do you wanna do?”
“Mmm I want to suck you off.” She replied without hesitation.
She couldn’t wait any longer. His arousal was looming in her mind, consuming it, as her vision was filled with a splendorous sight, her nostrils with a familiar yet daunting musk, and her ears with the sound of only hers and his heartbeats and irregular breaths, she stuck her tongue out. Just the tip. Just a gentle caress of the most adventurous portion of her tongue given to the head of the colt’s endowment. Predictably, the flag was raised on its staff, for it was a sensation Pound had never before felt, a wonderfully pleasant one at that. He needed more.
And so more she gave. One lick became two, a short touch became a swirl, two became ten, and a swirl became a series of whirly-dirlies around the auspicious appendage. Pound could do nothing but stand obedient to his sister’s curious tongue, for it made strokes on him that he’d never stroked, wetted—no, lubricated—so subtly yet so boldly, gave him attention that no hoof could attend. Pumpkin was caught up in her tongue’s exploration of the sexual surface, as she paid much attention to the warmth, the texture, the hardness, and the general experience of the specimen.
Pound was so intent on the lapping against the colt’s sexual pride that he could scarcely realize his impending need to ejaculate. He began to realize, however, that he needed to warn his sister before she made a mess of him, or him of the kitchen, for that matter. But before he could voice his concern, her tongue retreated, to both his dismay and relief. This did not last.
Not a full second later, she pecked a gentle kiss on the head of his shaft. She herself was by now laying underneath him, all the better to envelope his length. A similar kiss returned, and Pound’s breathing hitched and he let out a low moan. She took this as cue to continue, and was she sure happy she could entice him so. Such naughty power she seemed to have. She then kissed his whole head, and with her tongue she teased the one hole in his defense.
“Oh Celestia” he finally uttered, “I won’t last long.”
Pumpkin withdrew for the moment. “My pleasure. Our pleasure. Please, just fill me up.”
She then gulped down on his dick, not too fast, not to slow. The head filled her mouth, then entered her throat. She gagged as she tried to swallow him whole. Halfway along, she had to stop and pull back, gather her breath. She didn’t let him lose touch with her tongue, however, lavishing his head with tiny swirls of pleasure. Prepared this time, she took him in. Mouth full of head, followed by a throbbing thickness of flesh, and a helpful involuntary thrust by the stallion. Reaching the base, she sucked and sucked hard.
For him, these intense sensations, all new, awakening the pleasure centers in his brain far higher than he ever experienced before. He couldn’t help but buck a little, she was just too good, for his primal4 mind was activated and brought forth to power. Gasping on his length, she continued to twist and gulp, and with not much time longer, did she bring down his wall.
“I… I can’t...” he murmured, before his legs buckled and his member expanded.
Surging through, his semen flowed out. Although she knew what was coming, she was surprised by the cumming. Gagging once more, she opened her throat up. She made sure that all that came out went straight to her gut. One spurt, then two, and without further ado, what must’ve been a full cup of jizz found its way down to her stomach. Once his energy was spent, and his organ deflated, she withdrew with a glowing expression of satisfaction, while his face merely looked like one of spent relief.
After a minute, wherein she smiled stupidly and his face looked exhausted, he realized his dick was still in her face, though now not forcefully. It was cradled against her cheek, under part of her mane. He made to get up, and so removed himself from her. Then his face met hers, and they looked to each other…
“Thank you,” they said concurrently, and they both smiled.
Author's Note
1 Yes, horses walk.
2 Shakespearicles looked on with that creepy old-man grin from his reaction folder.
3 (I’ll stop when I die)
4 Turns out that "primal" means "ancient" or "first", and is not derived from "primate". I had to double check this.
