Like Mare, Like Filly

“Hop up on the table, Rose,” Spruce said. “Pop your feet in the stirrups, just like Mom did.” Spruce pushed the stirrups close together so that Rose wouldn’t have to stretch.

She clambered up via the step, tail swishing past one cocked leg and offering Spruce a tantalizing flash of the plump crease where her hind legs met. “It’s not really made for ponies, is it?” she said, settling into the seat human-style with her feet up. Her lips parted in a nervous smile that threatened to collapse with every breath.

“I need to get one custom made for fillies,” Spruce said, rolling his office chair up close. “I got this one from a human gynecologist.”

“Do they lick ladies down there?”

Celeste smoothed Rose’s forelock out of her eyes. “Not usually. But it’s a good way to get a discount.”

Spruce smiled and exchanged a look with Celeste. Maybe later. No, probably later. Under any other circumstances he’d jump at the implied offer, but at that moment he was pouring all his focus into filling up her tasty twelve-year-old filly.

He touched her knee. “You ready, sweetheart?”

She nodded, cutting her eyes across to Celeste.

“You want Mom to hold your hoof?”

Celeste didn’t wait for the answer—she just moved in close to Rose’s shoulder and clutched her daughter’s foreleg in both hers. “You’re going to be fine, Rosebud. Mr. Spruce’s going to be really gentle, right Mr. Spruce?”

Spruce winked at Rose. “You bet.” He wound the Velcro ties around Rose’s ankles to hold her hooves in the stirrups, and swallowing back his own nerves, he cranked them apart.

Rose allowed her hooves to part but kept her knees together, her breath coming in a ragged whistle now as she was quickly coming to realize what it meant to open her legs for a man.

With her knees closed, Rose probably thought her modesty was intact, but from Spruce’s angle, he had the perfect view between her ankles at the lovely clamshell of her pussy, tucked primly between a pair of slender filly thighs.

Lovely. Absolutely lovely. Spruce’s cock gave a small jerk of approval.

Her slit still glistened from her mother’s earlier ministrations. Had Celeste fingered her? Or had she just rubbed her clit? Spruce hoped it was the latter. He wanted to watch Rose’s eyes the first time he squeezed a finger through her entrance. She probably knew fillies had a hole down there, (probably—more like certainly) but in Spruce’s experience, fillies Rose’s age never really understood the reality of it until someone showed them.

More than anything else in this job, Spruce loved being that someone.

Coming up from underneath, he stroked Rose’s silky cunt lips for the first time, making her jump. She voiced a breathless whinny and her thighs parted—almost involuntarily it seemed—before snapping closed again.

“Rosebud,” Celeste said softly in her ear. “You have to open up if you want Mr. Spruce to lick you down there.”

Rose shot her a worried look. “It’s embarrassing,” she whispered desperately. “Mine doesn’t look like yours, Mommy.”

“They all look different, sweetie.”

“But…what if…?”

“What if, what?” Celeste asked, her voice still an indulgent whisper.

Rose writhed, clearly reluctant to give voice to her worries. “What if he doesn’t like it?” she whispered.

“Oh, sweetie,” Celeste said, knitting her brows. “I don’t think that’s very likely.”

Spruce placed his hands on Rose’s knees, offering a token pressure to let her know which direction they would be going. “Rose?” He gave her a friendly smile. “It’s going to be fine, I promise.”

Rose relaxed her thighs and let Spruce draw them apart.

Oh, fucking hell. This is what heaven looks like.

She was… There was no other word for it—Rose was perfect. As she spread her legs, her pussy resolved into a single tight crease, separate and distinct from the slim globes of her rump. It was tiny, barely a couple of inches from top to bottom and sitting open like an expectant lover’s kiss. Her delicate inner lips glowed a deep pink, glistening with her own juices.

Spruce swallowed. The poor pony looked beyond horny. She didn’t need tongue—she was open and ripe, ready for business. Spruce wondered whether she’d mind if he gave her a little cock first. Just the tip. Maybe a few inches. He closed his eyes and had a vision—so strong it was virtually a premonition. It was Rose coming with his dick inside her, her heaving cunt clutched tight around his shaft while she trembled through the throes of a powerful climax.

That never happened. Very small fillies needed a patient teacher to help bring them to climax on a cock, but Rose might be different. He’d never seen a pony so obviously gagging for it.

Rose sniffed. “Mr. Spruce? Is it okay?”

Spruce swallowed hard again. “It’s perfect, Rose. I was just admiring it. You’ve got a very pretty pussy.”

“Really?” That seemed like the very last thing she’d expected to hear.

“I was trying to think when I’d seen one so pretty, and you know what?”

“What?” She stifled a flattered giggle.

“Yours is the prettiest.”

The giggle found its way out this time. She waggled her rump, teasing Spruce mercilessly with a wink of her pussy lips. “You’re just saying that.”

He leaned closer. “Can I kiss you?”

“Um? On my li—?”

“On your pussy. Can I kiss you down here between your legs?”

Rose’s breath whistled through her nose. Her voice came in a whisper. “Uh-huh.”

Spruce leaned in and kissed her softly, down low over the top of her opening. He finished it with a smack of his lips, knowing she’d feel the vibrations through her clit.

Rose wriggled again in her seat, chasing his touch as he withdrew.

“Was that nice?”

“Yes-s-s.” Rose sighed out the sibilant. “Can you do it again?”

Never one to disappoint, Spruce kissed over her parted entrance again, not so slowly this time. He grazed across her hairless lips and showered her pussy with tiny kisses until he reached her clit, where he held for a long moment before touching her there—flick, flick—with the tip of his tongue.

Rose snorted and blew, grunting, deep in her chest as she arched upward. “Please,” she whispered. The naked lust in her voice was the sweetest aphrodisiac.

Spruce stroked his palm over her smooth mound. His fingers cavorted upwards, dancing over her flat tummy, finding her nipples and circling there.

“That tickles,” Rose whispered. She didn’t stop him though.

He pinched them, unleashing a rolling wave of goosebumps across her abdomen.

“Mr. Spruce,” Rose purred. “Please. My pussy…”

Celeste swept back Rose’s vermillion forelock. “It feels better when you take it slow, Rosebud.”

Rose looked up at her mom with pleading eyes. “I think I’m going to come again, Mom.”

“Just go with it, sweetie. Let yourself go. Lots of fillies have two in a row.”

Spruce placed his open mouth over Rose’s pussy and slowly licked the length of her swollen labia, sucking the virgin flesh into his mouth and lashing it all over with long, wet swipes of his tongue.

Rose’s moan was a low, keening wail of potent need.

He delved between her lips, raising her pitch an octave. Leaving her clit alone for the moment, he swept the tip over her tiny entrance, applying enough pressure to stretch but not to penetrate. Her unbroken hymen was like a drum, taut and firm beneath his tongue, just a crescent of opportunity that pulled her young canal tight without hindering gentle exploration.

Spruce was just such a gentle explorer—he would pleasure her with fingers and tongue, and then when she was ready, he’d follow it up with the something larger. He couldn’t wait to be her first. Almost literally. He’d come only a few minutes earlier, but the exquisite throb in his balls reminded him of his own first time, an honor he’d shared with his cousin in a tent in his aunt’s backyard.

He ate Rose like an apple, in long cunt-munching bites, pressing his lips deep between hers and slurping up her juices as they ran down his chin.

Rose placed her hooves on his head, guiding him, having him lap at her opening and nuzzle her rigid love-button with his nose. “Harder,” she pleaded—it came out little more than a squeak.

Spruce mauled her soft, wanton pussy, peeling back her succulent young flesh to ravish the clinging virgin purse at her center. He tasted the acrid tang of her lust as fresh, pre-teen jizz spilled from her cunt, making a slick passage for the cock her ripe young body so desperately craved.

“Oh! Oh! Yes!”

Watching her angelic, pre-orgasmic face, Spruce worked the tip of his finger into her glistening hole and stroked the knob of his first knuckle past the clutching crescent of her cherry.

Rose’s eyes shot open and her thighs clamped shut around his ears. “Horse apples! You’re in my…Ohmygo—”

Spruce slid past the knuckle, driving a squeal from her chest. Pulling against the clinging suction, he withdrew, then slid smoothly back inside, squeezing the second knuckle beyond that tightest barrier to earn himself another lustful cry.

“Y-y-yes.” Rose’s lips stretched tight across her teeth.

Going for broke, Spruce slurped up her clit and attacked it with his tongue. Driving deep into her cunt, he stroked her slick innards with his fingertip until she found her secret muscles and squeezed them around him. When he hit her G-spot, Rose cried and bucked, but the stirrups held her fast. Spruce abandoned her breast to shove her legs open, hauling back mercilessly on the stirrups with a whir of metal ratchets until she was spread and helpless.

Rose’s breath caught. Splayed and utterly vulnerable, she thrust her slender pony body onto Spruce’s fingers and tongue, and then with an ululating cry of release, she finally tripped over the crest and climaxed. Her flat chest shuddered through the release and her cunt sucked down on Spruce’s finger like a wet glove, and then, with a surprised squeal, her first spray of filly-jizz shot forth and trickled down Spruce’s chin.