Big Mac snorted as his plow bumped out of the last row of rich Sweet-Apple Acres earth.
The sun hung low - signalling the end of a hard day’s work… and the start of a different sort of ‘work’.
The muscular farm-stallion swept his sweaty, dirt-slicked mane from his brow, trotting toward his family’s red barn. He was cutting it close: he’d seen his wife, Sugar Belle, enter the side-door already.
He slipped inside, smelling an aromatic-pungency that made his heart gallop: the musk of a needy female’s arousal.
“Oh Hay, I can smell him. Sugar Belle, is that him? Oh jeez, he smells amazing.” The squeaky voice was just out of sight, behind a haystack - nestled in a secluded corner of the barn.
“Really? He’s come right from the field - I think he stinks.” Sugar Belle giggled, her laugh rippling her swollen, pregnant belly. She was ten months into her fourth pregnancy. “Though sometimes I like a good, hard, sweaty rut too.”
That was an understatement. Big Mac thought, rolling his eyes and rounding the corner. His wife often ‘relieved’ him before his pre-dinner shower… snuffling his sweaty package as she did.
But he knew that pregnancy skewed his wife’s tastes… pickles and mint ice-cream… lavender instead of roses… sharing him out for sex so she could watch.
Sugar Belle’s unique kink appeared during her first pregnancy: a trial request for a threesome quickly becoming reality… before evolving into the spectator sport of watching him bucka stream of mares from Ponyville.
When she wasn’t knocked-up, Sugar Belle was fiercely possessive, growling at mares that dared smile at Mac. She wanted to be the only mare who laid hooves on his ‘treasure’… before burying that ‘treasure’ in a special place….
Which quickly made her pregnant again… and re-opened Sweet Apple Acres to Ponyville’s lonely mares.
The joke was, you could set your calendar by it: SAA’s barn was open for eleven months… before its brief month-long hiatus.
But that afternoon Sugar Belle brought somepony Big Mac was... reluctant to accommodate.
Scootaloo.
She’d just turned eighteen...
When his wife told him about Scootaloo, Mac had stiffened but not in a good way.
He’d known the teenage filly as a blank-flank! His little sister’s bestie! Practically his own baby-sister!
But he didn’t complain...
The world was complicated enough without raising your voice: much better to tuck your chin and bear it… push forward and get things done.
Somehow, Sugar Belle convinced him that it would all be alright.
But looking at the teen-filly, laying on their custom-designed, leather-clad breeding table made his stomach flip.
It had a saddle-like curve, which tilted a mare’s hindquarters to an accessible angle. Sugar Belle had cranked the table up: he could mount Scootaloo easily… which lifted Scoot’s short legs a hoof-length off the ground.
Celestia, she was small!
Her lithe pegasus body writhed with anticipation. The curve of her teenaged-back, accentuated by her outstretched wings’ stiffness, slid gracefully to her upraised plot.
She was small there too - the smallest he’d ever seen. Nothing like the plumpness of other mares (Roseluck). Small, pert, filly-buttocks that he could cover with both hooves.
And then her sex… it looked... tiny.
Tight.
Impossible.
He couldn’t believe he was looking at the wet, winking fillyhood that belonged to the scooter-crazed blank-flank scamp. She’d certainly grown up. A fat, pink-throb of flesh parted her dark orange lips, screaming her burning need.
No sense making the poor filly wait.
He mounted her powerfully, slinging his bulk over her and slapping his heavy, black erection across her spine… his twenty-inch, town-famous behemoth reached her shoulder-blades.
“Holy buck, is that real!? Dash wasn’t lying.” Scootaloo squeaked.
Mac grunted, his wife taking his cockhead into her hooves and guiding it to Scootaloo’s dripping, expectant pussy.
It barely slipped in.
BUCKING TIGHT!
Her burning-hot, slick velvet glove was squeezing his cock.
“AhhhhhhhhHHHHHHNNNN~!!!” The filly groaned as she strained… parted… and let his monster inside.
Splashes of desperate fillycum splattered his inner-thighs: she’d orgasmed from mere penetration... his girth mashing her clit.
Deeper.
Each inch stretched her vise-like sex until he could go no further... cockhead crammed against cervix…
He wasn’t close to his medial ring.
Mac grunted and started pumping. Few mares beside Sugar Belle could take all of him. This filly would not join that list.
“Sorry hun, I know you don’t like first-timers.” Sugar Belle cooed while he gently pounded the squealing teenager. “Let me help.”
His wife’s hooves took hold of his girthy base and pumped - skilled movements, well-practiced in giving her husband the perfect hoofjob.
Coupled with having his cockhead jammed into an orgasming, teen-tight filly-snatch… an intoxicating experience.
But Mac had stamina. Lots of stamina.
Pumping *plaps*filled the barn… the minutes passing until he’d been at it a half-hour.
He didn’t change his technique: the writhing teen slowly screwed silly by his calm, powerful thrusting… her incoherent babbling the soundtrack to her continuous orgasm.
And now it was his turn.
“You close, hun?” Sugar Belle licked his inner ear... just as he peaked.
Big Mac groaned.
His balls rose, whole cock jumping inside Scootaloo.
Screaming muscles tensed, making the table squeak with strain. Pulses of virile, steaming-hot batter raced up his bulging black horsecock, stretching the filly further, mashing her strained lips up against her little ponut.
And then he erupted into her.
Gouts of seed flooded her: half sloshing her womb, lifting her belly off the table... half fountaining out from the tight seal between their sexes… fertile seed wasted because he couldn’t drive his mushroom-fat flare into the filly’s cervix.
The pure moment hung for an eternity…
With a moan of satisfaction, Big Mac pulled out… his half-flaccid penis preceding an obscene torrent.
“Thanks hun! Now go wash up and help Bloom set the table. I’ll get Scoots here sensible for dinner.”
“Eeeyup.” Mac nodded, content that his wife was happy.
It was the only word he’d say that day.
He was a stallion of few words, after all.
Author's Note
This was actually really hard.
I don't know if I even like this story or not. There's so much more I wanted to tell, wanted to explore, wanted to explode. The constraint of 1000 words was definitely an interesting challenge.
Even with that goal in mind, and cutting everything super short, I still ended up with 1300+ words and need to trim a LOT.
I wanted to go into a lot more about Scoot's feelings and reasons for being there. I had a little idea about her having a piercing she'd have to take out. I had a plan for way more wife/husband dialogue... all sacrificed.
But you tell me... what did you think of the truncated 1000 word challenge? Was it enough hard work to earn a thumbs from you? If I was able to paint a picture in your mind, I consider it a success!
