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                 S.M.I.L.E. For The Camera                 
                    -by Vis-a-Viscera-                     
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                   The Fuck Outta Dodge                    
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Author's Note
Looking for a FIMFic commission from me? Just follow this handy link (https://www.fimfiction.net/blog/908918/vis-a-visceras-commissions-page).
The Fuck Outta Dodge
“Thanks, Bon-Bon! Hope t’see you again, okiedoielokey?”
You can’t help but giggle with Pinkie, as her smile flashes between the swing of Sugarcube Corner’s door. Then more ponies run through that open door, and it’s gone completely, a delicacy as fleeting as the life of the box of ice-lollies in your hand.
Needless to say, you need shade and a cold place fast.
The first problem is solved swiftly, as you hook a hand around the Ponyvilee trolley just as it speeds off. There’s no place to sit inside that bustling car though, so you’re left on that platform, knowing it’ll take a while for it to reach the house you and Lyra share.
And with the beating heat of the sun above making your vision swim, your memory decides to join the drifting smoke from the trolley’s sides.
To thoughts of your past.
Oh, you wouldn’t give it for anything in the present now - not with a pony as curvaceous and curious as Lyra Heartstrings waiting for you. Not with the knowledge that any day, one of the Elements in this lovely town might just spruce up the daw with another of their marvelous misadventures.
But because it makes you lose yourself in the missions that you once headed, once upon a time.
Indeed, S.M.I.L.E. still occupies a sore spot in your heart, much like a cherry pit; despite Lyra being okay with it now. You’ve had to do some distasteful things to keep the most dangerous creatures in Equestria’s history out of the wrong hooves, during a time when most ponies around you hadn’t even heard of an ‘Element of Hamony’.
But your mind locks on a particularly juicy memory, and you’re forced to rethink that glum outlook. Not all your missions were ard-scrabble fights to survive. Not everypony across from you during that time was some steely-eyed statues that would as soon wring your neck as look at it.
In fact, speaking of cherry pits, one such encounter involved a particularly sweet Cherry, dancing its way before you like it was atop a mouthwatering sundae…
Dodge Junction, Five Years Ago, 4:15 PM
It was easy as ever to get into the school. Guard barely looked up to meet your eyes, just the ID card you flashed, and most of the students were gone from the surprisingly spacious main hall. t is indeed a really welcome sight from say, Canterlot.
In Dodge Junction, it seems, the challenge came with checking in.
Then you had to worry about the things most people in this motley town did not. You had to hope that the dye held in the near-ninety-degree office as Sheriff Silverstar looked over your fabricated notes. You had to hope that his steely eyes didn’t see through the sweat nervously lining your snout as you strained in your seat.
And of course, you had to hope nopony heard that sigh of relief as the name of ‘Troubleshoes’ is shouted from the room behind you, cutting your interrogation by Silverstar short.
Apparently, luck is on your side.
Right now, though, that aforementioned fur dye has been scrubbed off your frame minutes ago; you never wanted to risk the real pony you interrogated running across you and smelling a rat. It’s your natural cream-colored coat staring back at you from the mirror, your candy-like cutie mark peeking from under the hem of an orange-yellow minidress. Treading that barrier between the proudest S.M.I.L.E.-r ever employed, and the plain-sight-hiding helping hoof of the town you’re in; this is the element you shine in like no other.
A pity the other shining thing in the room’s making you sweat up a storm.
“Damn it,” you hiss, slamming your hat over the window to keep its bright rays from cooking you. There’s so little ventilation in this room as is; you’re not risking getting some heatstroke before you’ve got your target incapacitated.
You turn back to the mirror for one last check, to make sure nothing giving you away as a secret agent is shown. Your badge is safely buried in the curls of your mane, the glasses over your face just opaque enough to hide the true color of your eyes. Right under your hooves are the scattered photos of your target. Even now, the silky scarlet tresses of her mane make your mouth drier than any sun could, the beauty mark gleaming at the edge of her eyes like a gemstone about to be skipped across a lake of gleaming emeralds.
You aren’t exactly hating the prospect of what you need to do with her. Cherry Jubilee’s face was meant to grace the face of any place, you knew.
Slowly, you shake your head. Your job is to keep her away from that farm; those smugglers needed to be caught today, or never. By Celestia, Cherry might even be in cahoots with them; certainly, the cream-soft curves that she sported could keep any untrained eye locked on them instead of any other trouble lurking around the skirt.
Corner! Behind the corner! Curse it all, it was happening again.
Slowly, you turn to the mirror prepared to take the edge off now if you could. Your appointment with this teenaged troubadour is in several minutes; you’re no stranger to settling your nerves the fun way, anyhow. You smooth out your mini-dress with trained fingers, shivering a little at the muscle quivering underneath. S.M.I.L.E. gyms and trainers have been more than kind to you.
And of course that makes you bite your lip in excitement.
You’ve always been so sensitive on the inside of your thighs; maybe because of the countless number of stallions passed out between them. ‘Could put down a timberwolf in ten seconds,’ one of your former targets had pervertedly whistled. The memory makes your fur prickle. With anger or arousal, you’ve long stopped asking.
Especially since the latter amotion is what stabs through into your core as your digits drift lower. You don’t dip into your core yet, though, never liking the tactic of throwing away your focus so fast. Instead, you hook your fingers into the hem of your panties and pull ever-so-slightly. Pink trim, a patter of rainbowed hearts; and you can feel your own heart flutter soothingly as the silk rides against your clit. Your thumbs even grind against your panties to further the friction.
Oh, this will be more than enough.
Stepping closer to the mirror, you turn on your hoof to show off more of yourself. It’s a vein of vanity you so rarely tap within the vicinity of anyone from S.M.I.L.E., but here, the sauna-like heat just makes your eyes roll with debauched intent. You don’t deny the pleasure soaking your slit as you present your ass to the mirror, your melon-sized globes of assmeat jiggling jubilantly.
Heh. Jubilantly.
Your eyes drift to Cherry immediately, dressed in scanty bits of pink cotton and shredded jean shorts, and imagine that the genuine article’s here. You let out a trilling gasp, low and rumbling. Your other hand is son back at the band of your thong, your hips rolling against musty yet nerve-stoking air. You’re so close, and it’s all because of Cherry, and you almost want to beg that picture of her to wash her mouth out with slick.
Not soap, the slickness now painting your thighs and ruining your panties.
Your mouth gets drier, but you don’t care, diving your wet finger to meet wetter silk. Oh, if S.M.I.L.E. even knew just how often you needed, it, fulfilled it, with mares that could only pray to be half as hot as Cherry! Labored pants drop from your lips, making you so grateful that you’re in an empty schoo—
“~O-oh~!”
Not that empty, apparently! Oh flock oh flock oh flock!
Your eyes dart to the door that noise trickled from, mortified you may have been caught before you even saw your target. You force your dress down around your hips, leaning down to scrape the notes off the floor. Schooling your most frighteningly furious face on, you slam the hoes under the studio chair, you drag your hooves to the door. You might need to bruise a snout or two to keep attention off of you, but this is crisis mode; you’re not a secret agent for nothing.
But when you get to the door, the sight before you strikes any idea of you being caught.
Well, of you being caught first
Your eyes lock on the couple leaning against the brick-lined hall, just past the Dodge High School banner. The first figure is immediately identified to your widening eyes; it’s Cherry Jubilee in the flesh, clad in a pin tank top the same color as her mane-bandanna and the shortest pair of jean shorts ever made. Her endless waves of red mane were swept into two long ponytails, one on each side of Cherry’s face.
Cherry’s eyes—and lips—were fastened to this big yet slim stallion, her arms wrapped around her shoulders as they continue their deep kiss. Even from your position, you can see the twinkle of drool sliding down Cherry’s lips, into her generous cleavage. But you’re not even a little bit jealous of how much bigger the farm-mare’s funbags are than yours; in fact, your hands start to itch around the doorknob they’re clutching. You long to grip Cherry’s bobbing breasts, to feel if they’re as heavy as your head or simply almost that big.
By the time you’ve shaken the carnal cobwebs from your brain once again, the makeout session you’ve been peeping on—no! Observing!—had taken several steps forward. The stallion Cherry had been tongue-sucking was pulling up her tank top, revealing…
Okay, wow, Cherry wasn’t wearing a bra.
Her tits are already firmer than the picture made you believe, despite how much freer they bobbed on the Dodge Junction mare. Cherry sucked in a breath as she watched her lover size them up, his fingers closing greedily around her bourbon-dark nipples. Cherry’s smile grows wider, and she softly thrusts her chest into that touch. Your own superheated chest mimics the motion, your own nipps brushing harshly against the wood of the door.
Then she pulls down her shirt again, hastily whispering something into the stallion’s dusky ear. His legs shift a bit, and your heart leaps in hopes they’ll take him out of that hall. But her lips fasten to Cherry’s neck, and her moans are far more melodic than they should ever be, and you know their little romp won’t end anytime soon.
It only takes several minutes for your to feast your eyes on an expansive series of little hickeys on Cherry’s neck. For a minute, your sensible spy side returns, thinking you should simply leave them to it. No way would Cherry be at the farm by the time the raid started. Your mission was already complete before you ever engaged this lovely, exhibition-happy mare.
But those two ponies, at that point, just kick it to another level. Specifically, the level between Cherry’s lustily shifting thighs. And you, balancing on the edge of your hooves, are suddenly rooted to the spot again. You can’t tear your eyes away from the promise now, the chance to see just what lay under all that teasing, tight denim that so often hugged Cherry’s legs.
That strapping stallion was busy pressing wet kisses to Cherry’s betty button as you bit back a moan. It only gets harder to keep your pussy from audibly squishing between your grinding thighs as you see what this lucky colt has glittering between his teeth; the bobbing jewels linked to Cherry’s belly-butting piercing. It works just like a key, as Cherry lowers her hand to pop the button off her shorts, pushing them down seconds later.
It’s a miracle how clean-shaven and cute Cherry’s pussy is. Her lips are as plump as her tits, framing a glistening inner chamber without even a hint of sag. You’re reminded of a ripe peach, ready for tasting. Your teeth grind in jealousy that this no-name stallion will get a taste before you.
But before your sane self can smack you for this though, Cherry pulls back. Her lips purse, the ruined lipstick only serving to make her pleasure-warped grin all the hotter.
“Oh, my….” And her voice is syrupy rich, too, just to really jam that knife into your smarting ego. “Just hold on a minute, cutie, Cherry has one more visit to do today. Y’understand, right?”
For a minute your mind’s up in knots just hearing this alluring mare speak. Why did Cherry even need distraction?! how was every stallion in Dodge not lining up before her to hear that voice?
Then you realize it is probably you that Cherry’s talking about ‘visiting’ right now, and you stiffen so hard your knees clack.
“...c’mon, Cherry…” asks the unknown stallion. “Just ten minutes…”
“Ooooh, sugar! Maybe I should…! But…” Cherry’s “Ah need ta be back at the farm soon! Don’t want Brae to start yammerin’ on about my, ahem, playmates again.”
From your sight at the door, you can almost hear the shudder of fear roll down this licentious stallion’s spine. He’s up to his feet in seconds, helping Cherry re-button her shorts with hands shaking so hard you’re surprised they don’t catch in the zipper. “Sure he got rid’a that blunderbuss?” he squeaks.
“Considering what he thinks is goin’ down today, no,” Cherry said. “Just keep your shirt on, sugar. I’ll just sneak you into my room when we get back home.” Then her taunting grin spread across her face. “Or rather, keep it off. For lil’ ol’ me?”
The stallion stopped. Grinned, pulled off his shirt to reveal some admittedly well-sculpted abs. And left it in Cherry’s hands after a quick kiss.
Then the grey-coated male was off in a flurry of hooves, and Cherry was all alone. She pulls out a tube of lipstick and fixes her plump lips as she paces toward the door.
Toward you.
And at once, you remember your mission. Closing the door sharply, you fix your dress again, mentally going over the pointers your briefers gave you sure to keep her rooted in her seat. This is a detaining, after all. You want her here instead of causing problems for your fellow agents out there.
Then the door opens, and every bit of strategy in your head—and drop of saliva in your mouth—vanishes like a Hoofdini trick.
Apparently, this wonderfully saucy mare had added a lollipop to the list of items gracing her lips. Again, Cherry’s smile calls to you, the most smoldering thing in this room, as she saunters up to her seat. Even now, her very presence betrays the foal-like innocence as she bounces on her hooves; her gaze lets you know right up front that she commands this room, despite you having a head on her.
Then Cherry speaks. “Mrs. Snap Shutter? You look so different from what I heard; somethin’ with the mane?”
You blink several times before realizing that yes, you are impersonating another pony and should act it. “Y-yes,” you say. “I was in a hurry to leave for home; sorry I look such a mess.”
“Don’t be, Miss Shutter,” Cherry nods amicably, finally plopping herself in the seat before you. “Way your wife was gushing over you yesterday, I just thought that…” Then a slightly “Well, never mind. Heck, I’m wonderin’ why I’m not photographing you, Mrs. Shutter.”
“You.. you think I’m good-looking?”
“Drop-dead gorgeous, doll…” Cherry bubbled. “And I’m so happy you gave me this chance to make up for this. Breaks Brae’s heart, it does, that I could ever be tardy for something.”
“First time for everything, I suppose.” You line up your camera. “So, a few shots. Just… keep your ars at your thighs and smile.”
“Fire away, Miss Shutter.”
And so you do, taking your time, making the minutes melt with every flash of your giant camera. You hope that this is enough, that this down-to-business air doesn’t raise any alarms on this demure mare’s part. You’re in luck; Cherry already seems like she’s married to the camera, the way she smiles so lovingly at its lens.
You’re betting a bit light-headed too—and not just from the flashes. Cherry is an absolutely marvelous sight to behold, especially so close. Her skin seems to shine with the sunlight painting it, her faint turns letting the shadows dance over Cherry’s curvaceous form just right. One fluff of her crimson pigtails, and you know this mare’s destined for great things; the confidence and pride oozing off Cherry renders you silent as you press down on the camera’s button over and over.
Before you know it you’ve approached Cherry, your hand on the chair arm. Your mind blanks for a minute, caught in the rich odor of cherries and cream pouring from Cherry; these perfumes almost smell like Trottingham exclusives. It’s a heady mix traveling into your snout, and your thighs prickle, yearning to relive the pressure bearing on your heart—and your loins.
“Those sure are a lotta pics, Mrs. Shutter,” Cherry pointed out. Her crossed legs shift, ready to pull her off the chair on your say-so. “Guess you’re done with the yearbook stuff, hm?”
But you won’t allow it. A possessive, alien will claim your nerves, your hand stinging as you clasp it to your camera. You have to keep Cherry here. For the mission, for the fact-finding, for… so much. “N-no, Cherry. We… still have to do the backup photos. In case the school wants more… straightforward stuff.”
Cherry’s eyebrow arches and your stomach drops. Sure now, you’ve put forth too much detail. Stupid, Sweetie Drops, stupid!
Once again, the fates are on your side. “‘Righty-o then,” Cherry smirks. “More fun for the cams.”
Your hands tremble as you rest the camera on its stand, the shutter soon the only thing in them but feeling twice as heavy. You’re playing with so much fire now, and even as you move back to Cherry’s side, the flutter in your heart doesn’t recede. Yet, beyond it, roiling and licking like candlelight, is a feeling of…
…elation?
And that flame seems to triple in size every time Cherry’s eyes flick reassuredly to you. Like she knows she’s at ease, and even encouraged to be more of herself in this tiny room.
“Think I can stretch my legs a little, ma’am?” Cherry asks, fluttering her eyelashes. “The seat gets so cramping at times, and the air… we’ll, I’m sure it’s bowling you over too.”
You almost give her a bemused grin. Cherry’s good, really good. You almost missed that micro-second spark of mischief flying behind her emerald eyes. But for some reason, you play along. “Of course, Miss Jubilee. Just a few questions, though. While the camera works on?”
Cherry’s gaze swallows up the ‘innocence’ soaking your voice immediately. “Anything.”
That spot between your legs clenches thirstily at how that word drops from the farm-mare’s lips. With only a nod, you hit the shutter’s button, and the next flash gives you enough stimuli to continue on. Just as Cherry promised, she spreads her legs to take up a more domineering position on the chair, something you have to beg your eyes to move from.
“So, was this what you picked for this shoot, Miss Jubilee? Or is it… to beat the heat?”
Cherry cocks her head. “Oh, just what I always throw on. If ya got it, flaunt it, right?” Her eyes drift toward the short hem of your dress, and she licks her lips. “Y’know how it is, I reckon.”
You can feel the blush starting on your cheeks as you hit the shutter button again. “W-well… thank you again, Miss Jubilee.”
“And so humble, too! Gonna give me a complex, you are,” Cherry said. “Any other questions?”
As she peers up at you you realize Cherry has abandoned the lollipop long ago, and you get a whiff of the wonderful results. Her minty breath is doing just a bit too much damage to your resolve. Circling over to her front, you try to find that question she’ll be truly stumped by. “Well, I w-was wonder if you’re used to having your face captured for posterity… so… much…”
You can’t believe what it is you’re seeing with Cherry’s new position. You can’t believe it, and yet your eyes can’t tear themselves away, your inquiry dying on shuddering lips at what lies before you. If you thought Cherry’s puffy snatch was a delight to bared, those lower lips straining under the crotch of Cherry’s jeans is something else. You mentally trace over every dip and swell of her clit, certain you can still see the faint signs of arousal making them shiny.
More than anything, you want to know if that cute little slit feels as soft as it looks.
Eventually, something breaks the silence hanging over the room, “You’re that curious about my face, Miss Shutter?” Cherry asked, her fingers drumming on the arms of her chair impatiently.
Gaining a smidgen of sanity back, you sharply nod, not trusting your voice anymore.
“I don’t think you’ve seen it before, but my family’s homemade cherry cobbler does have my face on them,” Cherry said, bringing a hand to her mouth and nipping at one of her fingers. “ In fact, Braeburn himself thinks I should be a model, and while the thought of meeting so many… grateful stallions and mares get my motor runnin’....”
Cherry shook her head.
“No, I couldn’t do that to ‘em just now. First the diploma, then the world. Assumin’ I want to go.”
The drive brimming being Cherry’s every work masks your breath hitch. Could it be true, what S.M.I.L.E.’s files had on this sexy mare? Could she really be smuggling rare animals under Dodge Junction’s snouts, and yet dream of such a fabulous, legit career far from home?
You gulp thickly. Whether the case, the safest place for Cherry was here. In front of you. Spread like a book.
“Speaking of set eyes...” Cherry continued, her eyes narrowing again. “Ya plannin’ on letting your eyes do the immortalizin’ or that camera, Miss Shutter?”
You almost choke on your saliva, your vision darting to her heaving chest, still encased in that plaid top. Was there no bra up there either? “No, I just… well, you’re-I mean it’s amazingly hot here. I can’t believe you don’t even sugar a split-end in this heat.”
Cherry, after a pregnant pause so long you fear she’s found you out at last, smirked. “Got the same place to thank for it as the cobblers; we make a mean conditioner over on my farm.”
“I…” You barely have the words for it. “I didn’t know you were so talented.”
“Owe it to the Apple family, actually, little as we talk these days.” Cherry primped her pigtails, her grin growing how those flawless locks dropped over her chest. “Sure we’ll meet again soon, though. We Cherries are nothing if not starved for contact with others.”
‘Isn’t that the truth’, you don’t add. Not with your mind doing its damndest to keep from staring at Cherry’s barely-concealed nethers.
“More pictures, then?” the farmpony asks, fluttering her eyelashes at you.
Your fingers press on that button again, and once more, only the ca-cracks of the camera operating fill the room. But more and more, you’re mind’s locked on how sensuously Cherry shifts in her seat now. Having her legs spread so wide, and her pussy so tightly gripped by her shorts’ crotch, that her breaths are coming shorter too. Cherry's thighs twitch, her hands knuckle into the seat, and her smile gets just a little bit more tantalizing with each camera flash.
“Keep those legs wide, Cherry,” you whisper. “We don’t want that lens missing a thing.”
She doesn’t reply, a little lost inside her own world. So you take the initiative, letting your fingers rest on her hip and pulling a little on her leg. A breathy coo slips from Cherry’s crimson lips, and you snap another photo, your fingers drifting on her thigh. Your nails catch in the denim threads of her shorts’ hem. Those perfect folds of Cherry are inches away from your fingers now.
Just a little bit closer…
In a flash, it’s Cherry’s fingers that are closer to her center than yours, as she slaps a hand over her jean-clad crotch. Her legs close over it too, and you look up, right into her bewildered face.
“Shoot, Miss Shutter…” “That’s… a lot more than I expected from ya.”
Your mind, despairing the worst, was stumped by her words. She isn’t screaming bloody murder about your close contact? She isn’t lashing out one of those still-limp hands of hers at your cheek? Just… what sort of pony is Cherry, that she was still like this?
“I apologize profusely, Miss Jubilee,” you stammer. “I just… just—”
“No no, Miss Shutter,” and suddenly, the look that Cherry shot to her dirty-minded suitor stallion only minutes before is making a comeback. “I should apologize. You know what you’re doing, and you’re showing more generosity than I deserve coming all this way to take my picture.”
Your lips purse, taking in this new tack from Cherry. Is this naivety, or…
“I just wanna ask a question of my own.”
You nod numbly.
“How many of these photos make it into the yearbook, anyways?” Now Cherry’s eyes are right on your chest, and there’s no mistaking the intent that was smoldering behind them. “Or are they being saved up for something more private?”
You get the distinct impression that Cherry’s leading you on now with her questions. And yet, all you say next is, “No, Miss Jubilee. Not… all of them will be public.”
A second passes. Three. Five. Then Cerry reclines in her seat like a canary-catching cat, imperiously flicking her head and letting a suggestive smile cross her lips.
“Then I submit to you, Miss.” Cherry purrs. “I wanna see just how much of me you can capture.”
Your mind switches gears instantly, recognizing the consent that Cherry surrenders to you with every blink.
Cherry Jubilee is all yours.
Cherry Jubilee wants to be all yours.
And all you have to do is reach out and take it.
‘It’ refers to the hem of her shirt, right at the height of her belly button. “...okay then, Miss Jubilee. For the next shot, I want to see just how much athletic potential you have.” Your hand jerks upward, revealing another few inches of her fat-stripped belly, the faint muscle there fluttering upon exposure to the humid air. “Unless you’d like to tell me more.”
“Oh, would I,” Cherry crooned, lowering a hand to flick at her belly button piercing. “Start every morn with a jog around the town limits. Ten minutes of crunches—usually in front of the saloon.” Her smile tilts up wickedly. “Get so many whoops and cheers from the cider-chuggers there.”
“Do you get drinks for it, too?”
You want to slap yourself for asking so personal a question. But when Cherry’s lips move, your heart almost rockets from your chest in desire. “Nah. Never felt right.” She bites her lip merrily. “Especially with what I do right after.”
“That being?”
“Well, I find the most ripped stallion in the room.” hummed Cherry. “I lead him around the saloon.” She licks her lips alluringly, her head lolling in lust. “I let my top drop…” Cherry hooks a hind in the lip of her top, letting another few inches of bulbous cleavage spill out around the tie in her shirt. “And I show him how good I am at magic tricks.“
You barely bite back a husky hiss. “Tricks like what?”
“Tricks like making his third leg disappear.”
Suddenly, you want to find a way to one-up that story. Your chest already itches for friction, and so does the spot between your legs you’ve kept away from for so long. Laying the remote for the camera over Cherry’s hand, she quickly holds on to it. Then you cock a hip and stare down the sexy farmpony.
“Oh, so what I’m hearing is, Miss Jubilee,” you begin. “You find the one pony in some random dive that you so nakedly need.”
Your hips roll once, letting the skirt of your dress flare out. Cherry definitely got an eyeful of your panties, and you plan to have her see far more of you.
“Take them to the back…”
Then you spin on your help, grinning as you hear Cherry gasp seeing your generous ass. Apparently, there was something of yours that could leave this chatty cocktease speechless.
“And then you just let...” You flick an amber dress strap over one of your shoulders. “Your clothes…” The other follow suit, only your upright arm keeping your dress over your tits. “Drop?”
Finally, you let your arm flick up. Your biggest article of clothing flows down your body, collecting in a ring of shimmering cotton, and you turn to see what Cherry thinks of you now.
You almost burst into laughter seeing Cherry fling a hand over her face, a hot blush dusting her cheeks. “Goodness, Miss Shutter!“ she gasps, “Y-you don’t have to be that bold!”
With a few short steps, you are right before her. You almost want to remind her of how close you came to see her get eaten out only twenty feet from your door. But right now, it’s about making her far calmer.
So instead, you soothingly say, “Oh Miss Jubilee! But you were the one who brought this up first. Of how good it feels to just get ravished by somepony you just met.” Your hands close daintily around one of the farmpony’s wrists, massaging the skin there until Cherry squeaks in glee. “And I’m so worked up; it makes me so happy to hear how my subjects take a load off.”
You let go of Cherry’s hand and cup your boobs again, jiggling them lightly. The rattle of your necklace, caught between your perky jugs, makes Cherry’s ears perk.
“So, Miss Jubilee—how about seeing how well my chest can take a load?”
You see Cherry mouth a ‘what the fuck’ before she finally relents. Her hand falls away, she looks right at you, and her mouth forms a perfect ‘O’ seeing your breasts. The areola upon each of your chest-balloons is pinkish-red, like a cherry blossom’s leaves. Your nipples are already erect, brought up by the sight of Cherry’s still denim-squished snatch.
“They look…” Cherry pants, a trickle of drool starting to seep from her mouth. “Real cute, Miss Shutter.”
“Oh?”
“But those look even better.” And Cherry points a finger at your low-cut panties, the rainbow of hearts stamped on them shimmering in the sunlight. “I’d love ta see somestallion’s seed make that beautiful ass sparkle.”
You lower both of your hands to the band of your panties, running them under the band and sighing at how much rippling skin you feel. Cherry was right; this bit of clothing looped around your flanks and ass perfectly. You should have this thong on more often, just to feel how lovingly it catches around your hips and your slit.
Right now, however, you want to hear more clothes hit the floor.
“Oh, don’t sell yourself short, Miss Jubilee,” you coo. “Just because I’m not as gifted up-top doesn’t mean they’re not worth a feel.”
Cherry’s hand clenches into a fist around the recorder, and another flash makes you bat your eyelashes. When you see the effect they have on Cherry’s suddenly shifting legs, you do it again, far more seductively.
“Go on then, foxy,” You lean forward, your tits bouncing in Cherry’s face. “Feel them.”
Cherry’s hands are upon them in seconds, squeezing your breasts and giggling like a filly. She rolls them like prized cantaloupes. Her thumbs trace circles on your nipples, and you bury your head in her mane so whoever’s left in the school doesn’t hear your slatternly moan.
“Mmmh, I can see the appeal of smaller tits,” murmured Cherry. “The fatter nipples… the softer touch… the way it makes you putty in my hands….”
Another cry spills from your lips as you rock into the farmpony’s embrace. She’s definitely had experience squeezing breasts, as your titflesh tingles longingly around her fingernails.
However, she doesn’t get to fondle them long before you feel like you’re due a pound of flesh or two. And you get it the second your hands nest in Cherry’s top, bringing it up to her collarbone and letting her D-cup darlings spring free. You make your way around the back to the chair as she sheds her shirt entirely, and immediately love the new perks your position gives you. The silky mane that pours around your arms as you reach toward her fat rack from behind, the doughy mold of Cherry’s breasts that blossoms around your clenching fingers…
…It’s less like you’re cradling Cherry, and more like your molding her.
“Who’s putty in whose hands now, Miss Jubilee?” Also, you love referring to this sinfully curvy mare, especially with how it makes Cherry arch on the chair like it’s her throne. Her jaw juts open again, a thrilling growl making the hairs on your everywhere stand up.
But there’s one more target on this cream-colored sexpot you want to dig into, despite how warm and inviting her tits feel. You already saw it before, saw how much it bulged and pulsed against the denim so cruelly constricting it. And now, you want to set Cherry free of it.
So your hands snake down to those denim shorts that Cherry has on, taking your time to twist that bellybutton ring of Cherry’s on the way down. Another flurry of clicks flares from the camera before out as the farm pony’s grip on the remote controlling it intensifies. But your gaze is wholly on Cherry’s abdomen how, and the button on her denim shorts. Of how it’ll feel when you pop it.
But maddeningly, once again, Cherry’s hands clasp over that button. You stare at her face, expecting to see another sour look you have to sweet-talk away. Instead, it’s just dark-lidded eyes, and a taunting, shiny smile. Your clit throbs upon the sight, your juices making an even darker spot upon your panties.
“No, Miss Shutter,” Cherry whispers. “Allow me.”
The camera remote clatters to the ground, as Cherry undoes her button and zipper in one motion. Instantly, you see her marehood from the widening ‘V’ of space her zipper reveals. It’s already glistening, wetter than a lake from her arousal. Even the nub atop Cherry’s clit twitches expectantly, craving contact as she teases the flaps of her shorts further open.
“Miss Jubilee,” you hiss, tongue shamelessly drooping from your mouth. “You must feel so much better.”
Cherry cackles. “Oh, you think? Or maybe I crave feeling somethin’ grinding against my loins?” Her fingers pinch at her puffy slit, a choked gasp your reward. “Wanna help me with that?”
You’re pulling her out of the chair before you can get back the breath of yours she took away. Twisting her around, you help her slide her shorts down her elegant legs, her rump now fully bared to the camera. Another flash echoes out from it—thanks to your hoof landing on the remote—but you coo knowing it means her dripping depths are now forever caught on film. You spread those cheeks even further as Cherry leans into the chair, seeing how her folds spread as you knead the trembling flesh.
Then you lay a light slap on her ass, another boisterous laugh blowing from her lips.
“Mmmph… now I’m feeling a little overdressed.”
Your voice is soaked with need, and Cherry seizes on the next move immediately. She stands up, turns on you, and hooks her fingers in your waistband. In a flash, you’re bare save for your necklace, and the damp head shoots through to your core as you feel Cherry slides herself against your back getting back to her hooves. Her fingers tease along your slit and you buck into her, and you can hear her grin into your shoulder blades.
With a shift of your hips, you back Cherry into the chair again, dropping to your knees soon after. Her swollen marehood is all that fills your vision now, and you lap at your lips thirstily. Strange, considering you’re already drowning in the all-surrounding musk of her pussy, cherry-tinged with a hint of lemon.
A little part of you wonders if her farm’s cobblers taste the same.
You glance at Cherry’s face, curious about how this registers. Cherry’s pigtails are drifting over her erect nipples, making her chest heave and twitch. You barely hear the farmpony’s panting over your own, but seeing both of her lips shine with wetness has you more than ready to dig into her depths.
“Keepin’ me waitin’, sugar?” Cherry gasps. “You’re so cruel.”
Not a second further, as you lunge forward and drag your tongue along her flower. It winks into your waiting mouth, and Cherry’s rapturous moan makes your ears flick in licentious want. You smile around your prize, laying sloppy from top to bottom of her twat, and Cherry’s hands shoot into her pigtails to keep from pulverizing the armrests.
The taste is already something you can’t imagine going through life without. It’s every bit as tart and tantalizing as you dreamed, a medley playing over your tone as you lap harder at Cherry’s slit. Her lower lips swell around your pink muscle, hoping you’ll thrust past them and really make her shake in her seat. But you tauntingly deny her, flicking your tongue over the nub of her slit. She’s pierced there too, and the cold flash of her metal bead combined with the heat pouring off her clitoris makes you suck in your teeth.
“That’s.. .more like it…” Cherry stutters.
Another suckling kiss upon Cherry’s snatch, and you can’t help yourself now. Your thumbs and index fingers wrap around Cherry’s juicy pit, stretching her pussylips into a diamond before pinching them into a pulsing lump. Now it’s your mane that Cherry thrusts a hand into, your blue and purple loicks nestling around her fingers as she pushes you into her crotch.
You continue your lewd treatment, your tongue running figure-eights along her pussy’s hood. It drifts closer and closer to cunthole, the inky darkness gaping against your tastebuds. You want to see just how much this foxy farmpony spurts into your mouth, just how messy her arousal makes her. Or even, how messy her orgasm makes her.
But the hand in your mane tightens, and suddenly your lips are treading up Cherry’s abdomen as she pulls you up from your perverted perch. Not like you’re complaining—that’s just more salty skin to drink in, more jewelry to wrap around your lips. More tit-flesh to nip at, too. Eventually, you’re yanked up from that as well to loom over the feisty Cherry.
“So, Miss Shutter…” Cherry coos, face-to-face with you at last. “Wanna see another trick, sweetie?”
You almost slip this smoking-hot mare your real name. How much it’d make your body throb to hear ‘Sweetie’ fall off her lips in reverence. But just as you open your mouth, she seals it with a deep kiss.
Your lips clash and smack against each other’s, and you immediately find another festival of flavor to grace your tongue. That lollipop Cherry had coming into this room, sweet as a gumdrop and just as sticky against your lips. A hint of strawberries too, probably from toothpaste but all the more welcome as you push your tongue into her mouth.
Then you push your lips to her chin, and you layer it with hisses, soon moving to her neck. Cherry’s breathy gasps start up again, and it’s not until she’s casting her hips into yours that you pull back to her face again. By then, a field of lipstick rings decorate her throat, and your heart is at a far steadier beat.
Still, you can’t help but tease her with this again.
“C-coming to a shoot  to fuck, Miss Jubilee?” you pant. “Risky, don’t you think?”
“Oh, don’t worry ‘bout lil’ ol me, Miss Shutter…” Cherry sneered as she leans into your mouth. “Soon you’ll be coming to this shoot… in your wettest dreams.”
Then her lips twist against your lips, your chin, your neck. You let her have her way, the electric thrill her every lip-smack brings making you grind your thighs together. Your hands fasten around her colossal mammaries again, pushing her further into the chair, and making her exhale lustily against your collarbone.
You crouch down again, only for a second, to bring your own tits against Cherry’s soaking slit. You can feel her gush against your nips as you bring them, one after the other, against her center. Then you stand up, and Cherry takes those points of pebbled flesh into her mouth, licking her own release off you. The way her eyebrows twitch in ecstasy, like it's cider and not her lovesap she’s twirling her tongue around, you know that your treat’ll be well-rewarded.
The way she leaps off the chair and shoves you into it helps makes that fact obvious, too.
Shoving your legs over the armrest, Cherry slides into her own crouch, swiveling her ass as she descends. Your throat goes dry seeing those pert glutes jiggle, your next words a hoarse cry. “Do it, pleeease...”
Cherry pauses, her snout against your thigh. “Such a sweetie for asking,” she says throatily.
Then she tilts her head sideways, her tongue slips out, and your eyes shoot into the back of your head. A flood of ‘yes, yes yeeees’ rips from your maw, but it’s nothing compared to the flood you spew into Cherry’s mouth. You’re thrusting into her expert tongue from the first lick, and she snorts happily into the pink bush above your slit, your fingers curling at the volcanic heat washing over you.
She smoothes her hands down against your twitching lower lips, making them squish like sponges, and then she laps greedily at your clit like a parched Diamond Dog. Her expert motions make you moan wantonly, your pleasure spiking along your fingers and hooves. Within minutes, Cherry has you at the brink of climax, her feasting on your folds so thoroughly that you’re soon undulating on the chair.
Then Cherry’s tongue plunges in, scraping in and around your inner chamber, and you’re bursting your banks in seconds. You hook your arms under your thighs to keep from kicking Cherry in the face, but otherwise, it’s too much for you, this hailstorm of desire and bliss turning your brain into batter. A smile creaks over your jaw as your loins deliver torrent after torrent of marecum into Cherry’s mouth, and she gurgles as she takes it all in.
It’s like seeing a succubus, literally sucking the lust out of you.
Thank fuck that such beasts no longer plague this end of Equestria.
But you’re just as hooked on Cherry’s slick-coated lips, swollen and inviting as she pants obscenely between your legs. That foxy farmpony’s tail flags up as she pulls herself up, a hypnotic whorl of crimson waves that fans Cherry’s mane over her face like a halo. You don’t hesitate to ravage her lips with another kiss, stealing the breath—and the taste of your cum—from Cherry’s mouth.
Well, before the sliding of her belly button piercing on your abdomen makes you moan it away.
Then Cherry yanks her head back in a spray of saliva and fuckhoney, giving you a show as she saunters to the couch to your right. Her rump bops to an unheard beat as she drapes the clothing you’ve both shed on that couch’s arm. Then she sprawls out on the rest of that squashy surface, lifting a finger to beckon you over.
You follow that crooked finger with your own hip-cocking strides, sliding a knee between Cherry’s lips and pushing them apart. Cherry offers no resistance, her purr a clit-tingling complement to your efforts. Within seconds, the heady cocktail of Cherry’s sex wafts into your nostrils, and you’re ready to go pearl diving again.
Of course, your partner has an even kinkier idea, and you see her tools for that trade when she pulls out two shining toys from her mane. One metal, one rubber, both as long as your forearm, and both offering reflections of your pert breasts as Cherry wiggles them invitingly?
You almost want to see how well they both fit inside Cherry’s drenched divide.
“Mmmh, Miss Jubilee—dildos? Think I should ask where these fit into your morning routine?” you ask saucily.
Cherry’s smile grows. “Oh, they’re fitting everywhere,” she cooed.“An’ if I knew such a sexy photographer would end this afternoon eatin’ me out, I’d have one of these in my plot right now.”
“Well if you’re asking so nicely…” Your fingers grapes around the plastic cock-tool, reveling in the firm surface you’re rubbing your cum-sticky hand around.
Cherry hums as she guides the other toy to her mouth. Your mind immediately ricochets back to thoughts of the lollipop that graced Cherry’s crimson lips.
“Oh no, I want you to fuck my cute little clit with that,” the farmpony says, and your goal is clear. “I wanna hear that squelch in me. I wanna feel how deep you can get with that toy.”
“This toy?” Now your tongue drags across your lips daringly. “Not that boy-toy you had your tongue down before stepping into my room?”
Cherry’s legs twitch greedily. You can feel how hard she wants to close her legs around your hand, radiating off every tendon in her thighs. “Awww, what’s wrong, Miss Shutter?” she whispers. “MAd you can’t screw me as hard as he promised t-oh, shit! Fuck~!”
Every other word on Cherry’s tongue. does out as you tangle it with yours, twisting the dildo you’ve shoved deep into her wet walls. You’re precariously balanced on her thigh, and your own freshly fondled clit is dropping onto Cherry’s thigh, but her legs are too busy scrabbling to up the friction.
Just as well though, because the sounds that Cherry’s cock-filled cunt are making have you both wail wantonly anyway. You can feel her juicy cunt coat your fingertips as you pull back on her toy and ram it deeper into her slit, like biting into an orange. And Cherry’s lips taste just as sweet, especially when you bit into her lower lip and watch as her eyes slip closed in desire. How you haven’t just decided to sink your teeth into every inch of this sexy bitch’s creamy flesh is beyond you.
In fact, it really shouldn’t be.After all, Cherry’s making such a mess of the clothes under her on the couch as she writhes and cries for more. Doesn’t a selfish little sexpot like Cherry deserve some punishment?
Your teeth deliver a whole new form of Dodge Jucntion hospitality as you trail nips and kisses down Cherry’s neck. The closer you drift to her breast,s the more your dildo-driving digits work, almost a blur as they impale her repeatedly. Her pussy opens further for the thicker intrusion, and now you’re sure you can feel her cunthoney drizzling over your knuckles. But you don’t stop: not your fingers, nor your lips. Soon your tongue’s sliding over a new row of hickeys that make Cherry buck mindlessly into you.
Such S.M.I.L.E.-worthy execution of punishment, indeed.
You chance a glance up, wondering if your free hand should spend some more time inside Cherry’s drooling maw. But something has already beat you to the punch; Cherry’s other dildo, a metallic missile being plunged in and out of Cherry’s mouth to an ever-increasing spray of saliva. It’s like seeing a geyser start to take off, and your pussy winks harder for it, gravity and lewdness clashing to bring your center into a drag across Cherry’s thigh.
Your tail whips again Cherry’s knee as you howl her name debauchedly.
“Oh Celestia, lemme hear that again…” purrs Cherry, her head still tilted to the ceiling. Her voice is waving, almost drunk on desire.
You’re already so close to falling over the edge that it buzzes behind your clamped teeth. But for once, you put Cherry’s carnal need ahead of yours, restarting the thrusts of the rubber dildo you’re still holding inside her slit. Working her marehood like a clogged drain, you drag yourself off of her addicting leg and hunch over her center, then use your other hand to draw circles around the bead atop her clit.
This renewed assault on Cherry’s depths is more than enough. The farmpony was already gushing over her thighs and plot, and your fingers are soon caught in the flood that follows.
“S-Shutter! Shutter, oh SHIT~!” Cherry screams, her breath hitching.
At that point, something in you snaps. Your hiss comes loud and licentious, loud enough that even Cherry can hear it over her piercing wails. “Sweetie. Call me Sweetie!” you growl. “And cum for me.”
Cherry does just that, over and over, as she climaxes. Her arms are all that keep her on the chair, every other part of the foxy farmpony arched off the damp cushions and into your mouth. You’re sloppy beyond belief as you lap up her maresap, but it fits the moment; the air is so charged around your ears and snout that it’s stripping away your reason. Being hooked on the honey spewed from between Cherry’s stuffed snatch just feels right, in a raw and primal way.
A way that makes you blink in shock when you realize you’ve been grinding your cunt into the floor all throughout your mound-munching.
Cherry’s twitching body slumps onto the couch, and you consider whether you should plunder your own pussy with the toy still sticking out of Cherry’s mouth. Then her arms flash up, you feel a possessive pinch at your flanks, and you’re suddenly draped over the arm of the couch.
You shoot a concerned look over your shoulder and see Cherry in a mouthwatering state, looming over you. Her mane is a tousled stormcloud glowing citrusy red in the weak sunlight, and her limbs shake with both fatigue and fuck-happy lust. Most importantly, though, Cherry’s hands are a blur pulling a series of belts over her hips.
When you recognize the gleaming metal shuttle between Cherry’s thighs that those belts are holding up, your eyes dilate in glee. Your tail flips up immediately, only to be grabbed and wrapped around Cherry’s fist; apparently, she really likes seeing how her tug on it makes your puckered plot gape. Her other nestles greedily around your mane to keep you level on the end of the couch as she scooches onto the seat.
Soon, Cherry leaning over your prone body, her breath over your back making your shoulder blades shift. Cherry;s hips bring that toy grinding against your marehood, and you shudder in anticipation, knowing that her fucktoy is more than ready.
“Fuck me, Cherrrry…” you slur out from between a gate of gritted teeth. ”I need this so bad-mmmph.”
That other toy, rubber and rigid, finds its way into your mouth, so fast you barely notice when Cherry’s grip resumes on your mane. She’s so hard around you, muscles standing out against your legs and back. Hell, her nipples feel like they’re piercing into your ribs, their weight making sparks race up and down your spine.
“Hold on for the ride then, Sweetie.” And with those seven words, Cherry plunges in.
When Cherry’s hips plow into your rump, you’d not sure if it's the ripple of your skin or the feel of her dildo cramming your cunt that makes you cry desperately. She’s gotten so deep in you in one stroke, the metal surface cooly yet slick around your walls. You can even feel its arrow-like tip rub against a pack of nerves inside your pussy, so tantalizingly close it makes your eyes and legs cross.
Then Cherry’s hips withdraw, you feel her thigh muscles bunch as she grunts, and she smashes your G-Spot with authority.
You go limp over the couch, tongue lolling out and vision threading with white. That thrust alone triggered a mini-orgasms inside you, juices flowing out to coat Cherry’s thighs. But the way you know that this is only the beginning is how Cherry cackles wickedly into your shoulder—before herteeth sink in and she slams into you again.
By Luna’s leaking labia, how does that metal cock feel bigger the more it barrels into your cunt?!
Either way, you want more of it. Your crash your hips back against Cherry’s on every thrust, and you’re soon moaning shamelessly as she drills you. Her grip around your mane and tail intensifies, and you’re soon dragged into an arch against Cherry’s ample chest, her tits scraping delightfully against you. But the pain only makes you howl more, swivel your hips around the dildo dicking you down faster. What, does Cherry think her rough rutting is something you’d whimper at?
Well thing is, she’s right. Just not for the reasons she might think.
“Ooooh, I just-umph- love hear-ah!-hearing you scream,” Cherry huskily pants. “Nopony’s ever pulled my mane, and I just wish they would…” Then she licks a trail up your neck.“It makes the fuckin’ so much hotter.”
Okay, scratch that. Your hands abandon the armrest so you can drag your nails down Cherry’s scalp, and the whorish gasp she propels into your ear makes your body thrash. So does the piston-hard thrusts Cherry gives into your drooling marehood, but it’s all for a good cause, right?
Faster and faster, you both climb to your limit, skin slapping skin in a sinfully sensuous sonnet. You almost wish you had enough coherent thoughts to taunt her at this juncture, just to see if Cherry’ll keep screwing you forever. Your skin feels volcanic, only cooled by the tongue soothing your hickeys and the couch that Cherry pushes you back into to keep plowing you. Your legs buzz with the need for friction, which they get when Cherry hooks her arms around your legs to make this feel like a true mating press.
It’s almost too much when Cherry slaps your ass, your jiggling flankmeat sending a Category 5 thunderstorm into your brain. But all it meets is your final cry, your body undulating as orgasm finally hits you hard. You teeter on the armrest of your seat like it’s a life buoy, as Cherry grips you with equal might and a flash-flood of juices geysers from your cunt. Gratitude and bliss grip your body in equal measure, knowing any seat less sturdy than the one you’re cumming your brains out on would have snapped or tipped over long ago.
For a minute, the world shrinks to just you and the carnal joy Cherry’s slammed into your deepest depths. You hear your name, uttered like its prayer, which is weird because it sounds so much like Cherry’s voice. And then, the blinding bliss fades, and you feel that very same mare panting into your mane, sated and strong.
The world settles in right behind Cherry, and you wonder just what it is you bothered doing before you met this sexy farmpony. Even now, ecstasy buzzes along your extremities and inside your still drooling pussy. Your limbs are absolutely leaden with fatigue, but a dopey grin still crosses your face at the thought of being rutted so thoroughly by Cherry. You lazily blink at those photos on the ground, of the yous reflected in them, only wishing you could add your current afterglow-stricken face to that collage—
And then you remember, with horrifying speed, just what you were meant to do.
“SHIT!” you belt out, your limbs spasming as you fight past the passion paralyzing them. Eventually, your newest need wins out and Cherry’s left a tangle of limbs on the couch as you reach for your panties and mini-dress. You thankfully get that folder of your very incriminating shots together, but god are you not in any state to report back to S.M.I.L.E.
Assuming they haven’t already started their raid!
“Don’t gooo…” murmured Cherry, her eyes still cutting holes into you. “I jus’ wanted to… cuddle a little…”
“I… I’m sorry!” you blubber. You’re not even sure what excuse you could give at this juncture. You don’t want to leave, even. But you have to. “I_I just…. Its another appointment, one thats very urgent, I swear I wouldn’t leave unless it was life-and-death—”
“Shoot, really?” And now Cherry’s fixing a far more inquisitive look on you. “C’mon, Sweetie, ya gotta do better’n that. I’m missing out on our neighbors’ getting smacked down for their parasprite smugglin’, but I’m in no hurry t’leave you for that, are I?”
“Well this is different, Miss Jublee, I—”
Slowly, the thought of what Cherry said slams into your mind. Notably, how the culprits of that monster raid and the pony before you are talked of like they’re different ponies. “W-wait, what?” you squeak.
Cherry’s triumphant smirk speaks volumes. “Yeah. Some’a us saw those starched shirts set up on the house nearby. Bout time, we were the ones who called it in, to begin with.” Cherry rolls her eyes, before locking them on you again “But really I’ve got a different type of raidin’ I wanna do now.” And her hips wiggle, reminding you of just how thick the metallic dildo between them is.
You swallow thickly, going over the notes that S.M.I.L.E. had with you. Of Jubilee, of the raid, of just why she was supposed to be distracted.
“Is… that so?” you finally whisper. “And… just how did you get them to bite this time?”
“Simple. Said I was hostin’ an orgy over there.” Cherry’s eyes rolled in their sockets. “Seems it ain’t just Dodge that’ll come callin’ the second I shake a tailhair.”
Your dumbfounded expression only lasts seconds before you realize she doesn’t know you’re a member of that group.Frankly, you’re no longer certain how that sting operations’ gonna go. But you’ve got a sinking feeling you’re better off as far away from that FUBAR as possible.
And seeing just how inviting the wiggle in Cherry’s hips are, how much your clit aches for contact, and how deliciously this day’s gone… you find you really don’t even want to leave this room.
Why would you, with such a mouthwatering mare waiting for you hop on her shaft?
Why now when you can’t get enough of your name—your real one—falling off her lips like liquor?
“Well, then Cherry…” You saunter your way back, finally taking a seat between her twitching thighs. “Don’t you have some more stories of Dodge to tell me of?”
“Oh sure?” H”Have this real great one I’ve been porin’ over.”
Your smile hikes up. “Do Tell.”
“S’just about this pretty lil’ photographer, really.” Cherry’s eyes glint impishly. “Super slutty friend o’mine, too. So obsessed with bein’ dicked it makes me wanna fuck the air—” And Cherry’s grinds her crotch against yours, making you hiss in want. “—thinkin’ about how she’ll cum next.”
“Bet she’s a screamer too,” you purr, licking a stripe up Cherry’s cheek.
“Ooh, here’s hopin’.” And then Cherry’s hands are busy aiming her fake cock at your very real and spectacular snatch. “I’m missin’ a whole barnstormin’ over that lucky marefriend. Won’t be right if those fine fed-ponies didn’t get a chance to hear why…”
Her flanks shift. A blazing coolness settles against your cunt. Your eyes flutter closed.
“...Sweetie.”
You jolt out of that hot memory, and into a hotter Ponyville sun.
Even now, with the ice lolly melting in your hand, the vividness of that memory is what sens shives through your body. How long you and Cherry kept going from that point on, the sweat almost like a stimulant to your endless bucking. Almost five years to that memory, and you’re certain it’ll stop you cold till your last breath.
But the pony that currently has your heart is waiting beyond a Ponyville door. And you’re certain you’ve messed up Lyra’s treat being so lost in your own fantasies.
At least they’ve helped you be a much-praised lover to Lyra, no?
Sighing, you wing open the door; there’s still a lot of Hearts and Hooves Day to celebrate. “Lyra, I’m home! Gotta get something in the fridge real quick! Hope you don’t mind!”
Nothing greets you, though your ears swear there was a muffled chirp that wasn’t around the house before.
Regardless, you’re in the kitchen in seconds. With a silent prayer to Celestia, your box of ice treats is safely stuffed in the freezer.
Now back to your special somepony.
Your trek through the halls of your little house is getting more unsettling by the second. You know Lyra’s here—the lack of a note on the door is proof of that. And you know nopony else has been in here—the lack of the door being knocked off its hinges being proof of that.  
So all that’s left is peeking into Lyra’s most favored spots: the spare room where she stacks all the anthropology books you bought her, the back porch where she often chats to Roseluck from across, the bedroom you two shar—
Your jaw drops at what you see, the creak of the bedroom door not even remotely drowning out the meep you hear. Now you reas are definitely not deceiving you; you know where that noise came from time.
Lyra Heartstrings is before you, her hypnotizing golden eyes locked right on you. The rest of her is turned away, her rump up in the air and her tail flipped up so it’s tracing the small of her back. And the reason for both is what’s making your dropped jaw salivate; a series of rosy-red buckles and belts. They ring around Lyra’s barrel, her hog-tied limbs, and even her muzzle as she lets out another shameless gasp.
Immediately, you can feel all the blood shoto between your legs, and you suck in a gasp at the sight. God, Lyra’s never looked hotter. But just what prompted this? Lyra’s… adventurous, you know that after you confessed about S.M.I.L.E. to her. But what inspired this amazingly alluring display?
As if to answer your question, Lyra’s horn ignites, bringing up a letter to your face. Almost before you get the first turn, the cursive hits you like a bowling ball; it’s Cherry Jubilee’s. You even remember the spot in your arm where she wrote her digits; shortly after plowing you into the couch.
And the words that debauched mare has for you now nearly send you to your knees again.
To Sweetie Drops and her New Squeeze,
Don’t worry I’m not a peeper, dear Applejack’s just too much of her Element for me to not spill the beans. Congrats to you both! Especially you, Sweetie, you lucky devil.
Heard your anniversary’s comin’ up too! Figured you both deserve to spend it right; especially since you never had the chance to be the driver, Bonny baby.
Hope you two keep it up - all night long!
Love,
A Cherry-cheeked admirer
You can’t get to that red, bow-topped box fast enough. Seeing that glassy surface of the tool that tore so many titillating cries from you, so lovingly preserved (and pre-lubed?!) - it makes your eyes spin.
“Gotta tell me… what mare you bucked into next year… to get that, Bonnie…” Lyra’s voice serenades you at last, as she wiggles enticingly in her self-applied bonds. “Harness alone… costs a fortune….”
You don’t answer at first, just admiring the fat, glittering rubies behind each notch of the strap-on belt that you’re holding. Even here, even now, your time in S.M.I.L.E. is not as burdensome as you once thought. If it was what it took to meet that lewd mare Cherry, it was worth it all and more.
And it was past time Lyra got a taste of the tumultuous techniques that Cherry taught you.
Sliding the strap-on past your creamy hips you take point behind Lyra. You squeeze her flanks, then the dildo between your legs, and you’re not sure which one draws a throatier gasp from the unicorn before you. No matter; when you lean down you know you’ll be getting far sweeter sounds from her by afternoon’s end.
“Tell you what, Lyra…” you whisper into Lyra’s ear. “ You‘re still conscious at the end of this, I’ll tell you just which mare to thank for this rutting.”
Before Lyra can get out another word, you thrust deep into her oozing snatch - and instead, Lyra lets out a window-rattling wanton wail.
‘Now,’ your inner Bon-Bon promises to nopony in particular… or rather, nopony within the reach of Lyra’s voice. Well, unless Cherry paid a visit to Sweet Apple Acres this hour. ‘My turn.’