Legitimate Uses for a Rarity Fleshlight

~ Part III ~

The Use of You

Spike had noticed something off about the toy, a sensation born from earlier, daring his digits to the snowy plumpness once more. They welled against him, wobbling as he split her narrow valley—revealing the wetness within.

He swallowed at the sight and leaned back, unable to think, the throbbing of his exposed member cold against the air. He was burning, the softness of plush furs running across his length. It wasn't enough to please him, but holding the bottom of her barrel against the underside of his shaft—the tip of his prick poking at her chin—rendered him in a state he was unable to leave.

Rarity had made this doll herself. Its form composed and detailed from her hooves. This would be their way of braving the long days foreign of the other. But now? This doll allowed them to hug, together, even alone. The need for sensual stimulus—touching hooves and wrapped arms and hugs deepening into nightly snuggles—was quelled by the doll.

And when he needed to fuck?

Rarity had given him the closest thing of her—beyond jerking off—to help. Long had been the days of the internal debate, chances of him finding a mare very slim, the wrapping of talons around tender meat not bringing him the high he hoped to achieve.

But the rule of thumb is buying a fleshlight is announcing the quitting of attaining access between a mare's legs. This does not apply in reverse. But there is one caveat to this fact. If a mare gives a stallion—or dragon—a fleshlight to use for if she's not around.

Then that is perfectly okay by society.

Spike, for his part, was panting. Daring to bring a digit to the dock of her tail, he pressed back on it, the whole lifting, his thumbs having parted the supple cheeks. Within the divot was Rarity's pussy, not big... but enough for his total length.

"And you want a measurement of my dick WHY again?"

"Darling! Such language! A lady may endure the slang of 'cock' during the times of unladiness—but never such a word as that!" An easily read lie from the height of her voice to the hollow need to swing her hoof. Anything to aid acquiring her desires. "Studying your member is required for crafting not only outfits for yourself, but THINK of all the designs I can make for your kind!"

“Right. Let me guess. I have to be hard?"

“Quite certainly.”

"And for what purpose does an outfit rely on the hardness of a dragon."

"Hush! Or else I will be forced to cast a pin at you." She shook her head and tried her approach again. "Surely we have reached the point in which our privacies aren't private to one another."

"It's not exactly that I'm worried about."

The mare smiled as comforting as she could. "I hope you know a lady never shames her love for reasons such as those. I love you. Nothing in the world can make me feel differently about that. But.. there's something about this you've yet to consider."

“That is?”

"How I plan to get you hard."

Maybe it was blinking in from the past, all of this devised from the mare who loved him, regardless of anything physical that he lost his shame. This doll was made to pleasure himself with. It's smell and sensation made sure of that. And if that's Rarity's desire of him... he would forgo is woe.

From the four hooves of cotton resting on his belly, his claws set on its tush alone, facing him, pulling the weighty flanks apart... the pussy within gaped outward. Covered in white fuzz and as supple as the real thing, no clit popped out. Only the pocket leading inward to blackness.

He didn't feel the need to investigate beyond that.

Rather he posed a digit into its opening, feeling the bulging lips spread from his mass, stretching to accompany the figures. It flexed rather easily. He swirled the talon around, pushing out the sides of the vulva he came around, circling in deeper. He'd played with pussy before. But one was always self-conscious with a mare on the line.

His claws had been the saving grace of their relationship. Being able to knead her flanks and massage her cunt with his delicate touches. She'd scream and squirm and sometimes back her ass into his face, pinning him, ensuring his claws never left the depths of her pussy.

Another time had been eating her out. Spike's tongue went to where it felt right, judging how the white hooves flicked around him. Rarity would be in the distance, looming almost, panting into the air. She loved pinning his body, dropping herself or using her rump to get what she wanted. He didn't mind the dynamic.

Even though both of them craved for it to change, sometimes, every now and again.

Spike then dipped his digit into the depths of the plushie—fighting the illusion of the doll subtly arching back its head—and shivered in response. It clenched! Miniature walls pinning around his talon, undulating into it, suckling and clenching, urging it within from its movement. Heat licked across him with the doll's slickness.

Just how much effort did she put into a toy?

Spike didn't know what he was doing, only his horny and hardness, letting his claws go free. He'd been thirsty. His sweaty little face craving something since the starting of the contact. One of his claws clenched around the dock of the doll's tail, yanking it from his belly. Not enough to pull a hair but to demonstrate strength.

His other claw reached between his legs, digits tapping across the slender hardness, reaching the lightly-red spire different from the rest. He gripped his cock, not hard at all, just enough to feel some force. Lightly he pumped himself. Little titillation to keep him in check.

Until bringing the hindquarters of the doll over his mouth. He let it rest there, the doughy flanks resting on his lips. He narrowed them in the cervices between, feeling the heated surface of the pussy. How could it be so hot and wet and soft and not be the real thing? It drugged him as it did on days when Rarity's musk beckoned him back to the bedroom after breaking for a glass of water.

Spike moaned on feeling her lips settle upon his own. Warm on the surface like cookies out from the oven. Pressing into them released more of the same heat. Suckling on the spot, easily taken between his lips... it made him crave to do half of this to the mare this was based upon.

While he worked at the entrance—squirts of warmed honey were his reward—his tongue slithered to its opening. It didn't make sense to please a doll. But the idea of shoving his cock inside, without any showering of love, felt disrespectful to the mare of its inspiration.

The taste should have been disgusting. Far from the truth. Spike's tongue unfurled inside, spreading the walls to adjust for his size, all of this for a tongue. Rarity wasn't a loose mare in the slightest. But given the size of Spike, it was still roomy for them both, pleasure gained—but never at their craved heights.

But there was delight in shoving his tongue into her cunt, feeling the walls within forced to spread, clamping and clenching around him, needing something thick and with girth. The undulation within was scary due to its realism. But licking around, flicking at the places familiar in memory, gushed streams of cream from the pony.

Spike kept pumping his cock as he ate out the pussy of a toy, squeezing his base harder as her walls did the same. Sometimes he stroked himself, up and down and around, teasing into higher need for release. He'd never ached so much, throbbed so hard, put deadly on edge.

And unlike the mare who could suck and fuck and a million ways of getting him off.

Now he had a tight little pussy to demolish with his throbbing cock.

Rarity was going to leave marks across her foreleg from biting her wrist, deepening her teeth every few seconds, thumping her derriere forward and back like a slut out of luck. Going with the pulling of her dock, she rolled onto her front, sticking out her rump, feeling her tail arch into the air.

Shame would creep in a rising blush if someone were to open her door. Someone barging in, the frequent charging of Sweetie Belle. Her heavy ass stuck high from an invisible force holding it up—nearly lifting her hind legs from the bed—with her flanks spread far apart, revealing the pussy nestled in-between.

Her mounds, a creamy white, delicious to the eye as if demanding to be licked. The pinkness of her clit was a hot contrast to the rest. Within her slit, those lips were pulled aside by thick digits. She squirmed with a moan. It'd been a while the last Rarity whimpered in bed.

And then she felt it. That single-digit penetrating her depths, filling her pussy and spreading her tightness. Clenching down on Spike milked the pleasure of his hardness, fighting to keep him within. Every undulation a shiver throughout her frame. Rarity needed to be fucked.

Until his tongue came. Long and vast and massive and plowing inside Rarity's cave. Reaching deeper than hooves and rubbing greater than toys, it flicked in all the sensitive places, earning a kick from a leg and a flick of an ear. Her body was spasming, rocking in place, screaming into her hoof in having her pussy explore from an absent tongue.

Her little Spikey, across town at this very hour, eating out a toy. He was probably touching himself. Always did whenever he went. She snaked a hoof across her belly, feeling it sink and rise, gracing over her clit. This was what she left for herself.

Rarity tugged her bottom lip inward, biting. Her hoof drew circles in the fluff of her belly, warming the sensitive skin. She always liked to tease herself. Now with the dragon searching her pussy for the golden grail, she could enjoy herself, gasping as the edge of her hoof brushed against that wonderful ball.

She stroked herself silly in waiting.

Spike had never felt more awkward in his life, but since he lived an awkward life, felt this par for the course. He sat on his knees with the plushie beneath him, the mass of his cock hovering over its frame. His claws pressed on the bedding to its sides, the creeks of springs taking his weight.

This would be a new experience for sure.

He slapped his cock onto the back of the mare. Slowly drawing himself back, there was enjoyment in seeing her sink—even if only slightly—from the weight. That was until his underside decided the curve of her flanks, his member sliding in-between, hugged from warmed-marshmallows.

They even pinched his dick with their softness.

He kept going down until his tip caught on something. His head squeezed between the mounds and sunk into her slit. Tight. Clenched fists had nothing on this. Warm air petered from her snatch. Bearing his heavyweight, its slickness coated him in her juices. Just a few inches more. Then he would be sucked and hugged and clenched upon from utter softness warmly baked.

And that's precisely what he did.

Wrapping his claws on the sides of the plushie's barrel, the dragon slid himself inside, weakly moaning as he did so—stifling rolling his eyes. They blinked, one fluttering in a close. Spike's expression had never looked so drunk on pleasure before in his life.

He could feel the insides of the doll spreading, ever slowly, to accompany his girth. Parts of him worried about the doll tearing from his entry. It'd been the reason for the slowness to begin with. But those heated walls broadened before him. The fatness of his cock pushing out the walls, forcing them further all to adjust for him.

It got him off. It really did. To finally be the one too big for her. He continued forward and forward until his thighs and crotch met the mare's backside. Upon bottoming in, he rolled his head around in glee. The tightness of the pussy around his dick was hugging heat and softness over his hardness. Undulating and massaging over every inch and each iota of skin. The tingly sensations flicked his hip, again and again, building into a rhythm.

The rhythm of sex.

Spike kept his claws wrapped on the doll on pulling out, waiting a few seconds, appreciating how the pussy sucked on his tip in a vice-grip to draw him back in. To surprise the doll, he did exactly that. Pushing and shoving himself inside, the cushioning of the padded ass welling across and against his crotch.

Another moan to another clench around his cock.

Hitting a plushie from behind should have brought him shame, but it did nothing of the sort, allowing a rhythm of thrusts that built into the passion of sex. The plushie leaned forward and back to the force of his movements and her insides enduring the momentum of his cock. Tight on entering, squeezed on bottoming-in, clenched to prevent him from leaving.

Spike couldn't help but lean himself forward into an arc, allowing furious thrust into a doll like a dog in heat. He humped and fucked, squeezing the sides of the plushie, shoving his cock, in and out, speeds quicker than ever possible in reality.

The aching killed. It billowed inside his hardness, expanding, little scratches from inside begging to get out. How much longer could he repress it? His penis throbbing and growing and massages by wet and heated and sloppy softness wrapped and hugging and squeezing around him.

He fell forward. Smothering the doll underneath the weight of his body, it'd been a dream of them both. The mare craved to be pinned and smothered by the weight of a hunk, every inch of her delightfully pushed down upon. Only freedom came from her rear—fucked-in by gigantic hips and a fat cock forcing her cunt to stretch to its limit. Every nerve, pressed and rubbed and stroked, hardness pounding harder, dishing her tongue to fly out from her mouth.

His chin fell over the muzzle of the doll, its softness now compressed beneath his chest, its hips struck up as he plowed himself inside. He'd never felt more like a reptile before in his life. Humping and fucking and rolling his head. Never had he seen such growth from his hips; everything else was still as to grant it greater power.

As the pleasure grew, the dragon's tongue lolled out from his mouth, resting like a carpet on the bed. It was lazy against his chin, and his eyes searching the ceiling yet looking for nothing. He was close to cumming. Cock blotted in repressed arousal as to explode in a beautiful assortment of differently feeling pleasures.

Wanting to be special, he changed tactics, flopping onto his back without a missed thrust. Legs spread, the doll rested on his crotch, its expression different. The buttons for eyes seemed bigger with a tinge of wet fur beneath them. Despite a proper face, it felt happy, looking at him, lovingly.

Rarity had been waiting for the day of having her pussy filled with the fattest cock of them all. Not like the stallions beefy and identical. What she craved was that of a dragon, slender and tapering, enough girth aided by form to do her over.

There was something special about dragon cocks she couldn't get over. Despite lacking the size and scale of a stallion, they were developed with bumps and ridges to enhance pleasure. Frills soft and long and silky sprouted from the sides, an added tickle to the forces, itching in the crevices. The bumps at the top allowed for a different feeling upon every thrust; the ridges on the bottom were rubber scratching in all the right spots.

Catching her look in the mirror revealed a foolish reflection. Her body was splayed over the bed, four limbs pulled and pinned in four directions, the softness of her frame compressing into a squished marshmallow. Everything about her was flattened and matted. Her plush cheeks, kneaded and squeezed from gigantic claws—now pinned and smothered, completely, from enormous hips she could not see.

But that didn't stop the mare from being used as a mere toy. That would still happen without a doubt. But an invisible cock wasn't going to fuck her like a slut without her returning some of the favours. She flicked herself back, during each thrust, the massive force sliding quicker inside of her.

There was a jolt to her body, one raising her inches, that was, before the force atop kept her down. Delightful was the fight in needing to squirm from the cock fucking her, rising only for the span of his body, keeping her pinned, forcing her to writhe in pleasure.

Fucked and slammed into. Perhaps being a toy had its rewards? Every completion jolted her body, forward and back, lax strands of mane scattered over the place. Draped over her neck and settled across the bed.

Until it changed.

The pressure lifted and she did the same, suddenly brought to sitting, feeling a mass within. Gazing across the white forest of her chest, her belly bulged, ever so slightly, with the outline of him. The invisible rendered visible as the two joined together.

There was a moral in that, somewhere.

After all he's done, I suppose the same will be repaid.

Rarity giggled while covering her mouth with a hoof. This had been done before to mutual failure. Pleasing her never worked except in the ways surrounding the sex itself. Pleasuring him was just as hard. Even allowing the heavy weight of her flanks to nestle on his crotch, her pussy devouring his cock while her folds rested upon him—the space, due to the difference of size, rendering it hard for either to feel a thing.

But now? She could barely lowered herself on him. There was still the feeling of her flanks flatted over the firm grounding between his thighs. Her little dragon was lying on his back, his claws clasped over her sides, held like a doll.

Rarity didn't mind this at all, rocking her hips forward and back, milking the mass inside her snatch. Rolling to feel it around, how those frills covered the sides of her walls, flicking, every now again—to the release of a whimper.

No matter what happened, she would take it, the ridges and the bumps, squeezing and tingeing around that which was spreading her full. Never had she been fucked so hard before. And she'd been craving it longer than she knew.

Spike was fighting to cease from finishing. Lying on his back with his claws holding the doll, he raised and dropped it, a constant pump that squeezed him hard, his dick expanding constricted from the tight places. It spasmed, needing release, and the height of the symphony was to begin.

The dragon's head rolled over the expanse of the pillow, one side to another, the fabric shuffling beneath his scales. It was hard to not choke and moan and growl out a name belonging to one alone. Teeth grinding and lips pressing. Release was near.

From over the field of his chest, the doll loomed over his crotch, feeling as though moving on its own. Little flicks to give him a taste of the need switch for more. The building of goodness built to the extreme, the pain pleasured at its climax, his full and bulged cock expanded to its limits. He ached and ached and the valve, blocking, slid out of the way.

Spike thrust into her entrance during every drop, feeling his ass rise and drop, thumping onto the bed, the base of his tail stuck beneath his weight. It wiggled and moved every time, finding a place to escape to. It thumped and slithered across the bed like a wild and panicking snake. That was until everything came to an end.

In the final and most laborious thrust up and into the doll, he slammed it down into him, splaying its legs over his crotch, the valley of her thighs pleasant to his eyes. He squeezed the toy as the burning arousal billowed inside his cock, racing outward, the volcano releasing its flames.

Spike wiggled his head back as his legs slid forward and pulled back, again and again, as his dick clenched before its spurts. Ropes of creamy strands, freckled with delicious dots, came in spurts inside the tightness of the doll. Every inch of the clenched wall lathered in the smooth and burning texture. He was hot, burning even. His cock singed the walls into a spicy heat in which they spasmed to.

Having arched his chest forward from the final spurt of milky delight, he held for the pleasure awash in his mind. Coursing and soothing down his limbs, muscles becoming relaxed, soreness quelled from temperature. He dropped back, dead—but pleasantly so.

From his panting and sweating face, the heavy eyelids started to drop, fluttering up with a fatal will. He smiled through his breathing, even in the haze of bliss, his focus was on the doll. It made him happy. Close to the mare far away. Could things ever be this way in reality?

At least he'd his fantasy.

But the doll kept impaled on the pillar of his cock, one sinking in inches to the passing seconds, freeing her from its massive size. Once it was mostly retracted, the doll's hooves stepped forward, shakily, stumbling on every step. There was a shudder to its hips as there was dripping from its behind.

The doll carried itself across the landscape of a dragon, now rendered into its proper size, not because of a change to him but because of her. It teased the plushie to be rendered like this for him. Reaching the cliff of the mountainous face, fast in slumber, now deeply peaceful.

Rarity laid a kiss upon the sprawling lips, indulging in how they covered her face, like those times she did the same to him. Once done, she beat a few steps backward. The rising and expanding surface of his chest was warm and smooth and hard, better than her bed. Curling herself together, she closed her eyes, aided to sleep by the gigantic breathing of the one she loved most of all.

Love isn't always acceptance.

Love is creating the means, for those in the engagement, to meet in the middle.