“Analingus? More like screw off, anal-dingus.”
Sure, Quibble hadn’t exactly expected to hit a home run when bringing the concept up to Wind Sprint, his li’l pride and joy. She barely even enjoyed their weekly ‘Fucking Fridays’. But something about her reaction had still hurt at the time. Why didn't she want to return his affections...or at least let him show his affection towards her?
“Why don’t you offer her something in return for trying something new?” Clear Skies had offered when he’d gone to her for advice. “You know how she is sometimes, but her pragmatic side should respond to a mutually beneficial exchange. Besides, if she enjoys it...she’ll want more anyway.”
Maybe she was right.
So later that same night, Quibble managed to sit her down, and give her a proposal that most sane fathers hardly ever gave their daughters, whether they were a daughter by birth or not:
“If you let me eat out your tailhole, I’ll get you whatever ice cream you want afterwards, okay, kiddo?”
Wind Sprint rolled her eyes at first, but she didn’t immediately shoot down the idea either. Her eyes roamed her bedroom, settling on a small blue tube pillow before glancing back to her nervously-fidgeting father. “Fine. You get two minutes, and I’m gonna eat a pillow so you don’t get to hear me make the noises you like. Got it?”
Quibble nodded, feeling a gentle throb in his downstairs as he slid off the foot of her bed, and patted a spot for Windy to nestle herself against. Whether she was reluctant or not, he was just happy to have a chance to finally dig his tongue into that no-doubt infinitely-tight ponut. The pegasus filly sighed, but grabbed her pillow, flopping down on her stomach and spreading her hind legs apart. Quibble felt another twitch between his legs as he began to harden...especially as Sprint’s tail began to rise ever so slowly, until it no longer obscured any part of her tiny, tight little flanks. There wasn’t even a hint of moisture on her pussy, but that wasn’t his goal; even then, he would no doubt be providing plenty of moisture in that general area very soon…
“Alright, go.” Wind Sprint gave one last scornful look towards Quibble Pants before facing forward and, as promised, sinking her mouth gently into the nearby pillow. Not wanting to waste any time, Quibble quickly lowered his tongue to the entrance of her ponut, and dipped it inside. It was...indescribable. Warm, firm, but most importantly, tight...it felt like she was unconsciously squeezing down on his tongue. It was amazing, definitely far better than doing it with Clear...even Sprint’s attempts not to enjoy it only made it better for the both of them, her pointed stiffening only increasing the resistance of her insides. He could see now why she kept her 'other hole' such a closely-guarded treasure.
“Mmph...”
Quibble’s cock was already at full mass by now, but he shuddered at the first real indicator of enjoyment the reluctant little filly had shown yet. Taking it as nothing but encouragement, he redoubled his efforts, using one hoof to spread her cheeks further apart, and the other to hold her tail back while he jammed his tongue even deeper into her increasingly warm and wet insides. To his surprise, he felt her pushing back into his tongue as his intensity grew, her occasional muffled grunts and sighs growing louder and more frequent. The heat coming off her backside was almost too great to bear now...and surely it’d been two minutes by now? Not that he was complaining...he was willing to tonguepunch her tight little tailhole all day if she would let him do it. The only thing that might be better would be if he could convince her to engage in the 69 position and suck him off at the same time...but Sprint would never go for that. She liked taunting him just a bit too much to fill her mouth while he was pleasing her.
“Nngh...h-harder, you wuss...” The pegasus filly stammered, her wings flapping as she pushed back against his muzzle even harder than before. Though he couldn’t see it, he could feel a liquid other than his own saliva beginning to trickle onto his fur...her juices. Sprint’s hooves were beginning to make deeper and deeper divots in the sheets now, and the pillow was far away from her moaning, panting mouth by now. “I-if you’re gonna tongue my butt, do it right...!”
She didn’t have to tell him twice. The stallion obeyed, shoving his muzzle between her glorious filly flanks as hard as he could, driving his tongue as deep into her tight tunnel as he could manage, withdrawing only to do it all over again. Her moans were louder now, squeakier, and more breathless. She was close, and he swore he was too. The bed shook slightly on its frame as she quivered more, inside and out, until finally, just when he thought he could take no more, and that he’d have to whip out his cock and shove it in there while she was distracted...she came.
Her squeals turned to whimpers, and her legs and wings trembled in unison as her entire frame pushed back against his muzzle, almost seeking to shove his entire face inside her body as her hips ground back and forth, milking every bit of pleasure she could get. By the time her stamina ran out and she collapsed back onto the sheets, Quibble found himself harder than he’d ever been in his life, with nothing to show for it...yet. Still, her tight little ponut was worth it by itself...he’d remember this for weeks to come.
“Q—...dad?”
“Yes, sweetie?” Quibble asked, raising an eyebrow at the sudden interjection. Wind Sprint lay still for a moment, her fur sweaty and her mane disheveled as she panted. Perhaps she wanted to say what flavor of ice cream she wanted. But when she spoke...Quibble just about fainted.
“C...can I try that on you next...?”
