'Miss Me?'

by darf

Rating: mature
Tags: Other, Romance, Sex, Human, Lyra, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 8506

Lyra returns from a trip and shows her affection despite your slovenly living conditions.

After a week of Lyra's absence you've let yourself devolve back into disgusting singlehood - but when Lyra arrives home without notice, you're treated to a reminder of just how much she loves you, despite - or perhaps because of - your conduct while she's been gone.

Published 2012-10-22 17:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-10-22 17:30:01 UTC

Chapter 1

This place is a mess.

The thought enters your head through the ambling buzz of nearby fruit flies – leaving that empty pie container nearby was probably a bad idea.

It's hard not to feel disgusting when you take in a full dose of your surroundings. The bed behind you is unmade and littered with the crumbs of various half-meals abandoned in absence of dishes to hold them from the sheets. What started out as one light smattering of cookie shards quickly became a budding sandbox of various food particles, and throughout the week you've developed the habit of shaking every one of the blankets vigorously before crawling into bed. You still wake up with the occasional chocolate chip stuck to your forehead.

Your desk, meanwhile, is worse for wear simply because it's the one place you've spent any time over the last seven days. The right side is a towering assemblage of dishes threatening to collapse into a very dirty mound of broken glass and cookware, while the left is a mirror of the bed with the occasional half-eaten entree or napkin stained with pizza grease.

Truly, the spiral back into bachelorhood has been a perilous one.

You're not sure what went wrong. At the beginning of the week your clothes were clean, your room was relatively tidy, and you felt at least like an approximation of a real human being. Now, you can feel the aura of garbage and disarray permeating your skin, leaving a perpetually unwashed sweat on every follicle of your body. Of course, not showering has contributed to that some as well, but the lacquer of unkempt filth goes far deeper than any amount of soap could remove.

What went wrong?

Well, that's an easy question to answer.

Lyra left.

Not in a more permanent sense, thank goodness. Losing the best thing to walk into your life would be a blow enough to send you fully off the precipice of slovenly bachelorhood and into full-tilt transience.

Of course, she'd be doing herself a disservice as well. Lyra doesn’t seem the type to lie, and if you can take her words at face value, she'd be just as miserable after leaving as you would.

So why did she have to go for an entire week?

Well, necessity and desire are two different things.

Sighing seems redundant at this point. She's coming back today, which means only a few more hours of lonely temporary singlehood before your sweet mint darling returns home.

That means only a few more hours to revel in your depravity.

The other piece of missing your sweet Lyra has been the part of you that really misses her. Part of the reason you can so readily believe Lyra when she tells you how happy she is is that she can show you. And you can show her back. You can put on a private performance for each other. Several times a day. Every day.

You miss her so much.

Necessity and desire aren't without their overlap.

That's been the hardest part. Lyra's always chipped in with the cooking and cleaning, though she's something of a slob herself – realistically you wouldn't call yourself a complete pig, but something about basking in singlehood has made very poor choices seem much more viable. Why pick up that energy drink container when there's a perfectly good spot on the floor? Why cook dinner when a pizza is only a phone call away? The internal debate over the appropriateness of answering the door in your boxers left you asking the delivery driver to leave the box on the porch, but that was a damn good pizza. There still might be a piece left, actually, sitting in the box half-open beside your computer desk.

The computer is the best friend in place of a lover. It has facsimiles of all the same accouterments. When you're bored, there's internet. When you're lonely, there's entertainment. When you're horny, there's...

Of course, there's been a lot of that while Lyra has been gone.

You glance towards the corner of your desk.

Lyra did get you a present so many months ago. 'For when I'm away,' she'd said. You'd never even unwrapped the thing until this week; now you’re worried it's completely worn out.

She'd gotten a green one, the same colour as herself.

The apprehension of fucking black tube topped with a pastel marehood at one end had been quickly overridden by pent up sexual frustration – the end of the first day was as long as you could wait, and despite the voice in the back of your head judging you at every instant, the second you felt the realistic set of lips wrap around your head, the next week had been fully scheduled.

The lack of cleanup carried over, of course.

That's the hardest part to reconcile. What if Lyra could see you right now, stewing in your own garbage? She might be a tad jugemental, with a 'tsk tsk' while she levitated heaps of trash into their proper bin in an effort to remove the stench of decaying food and Big Mac wrappers – but if she looked to the corner of your filth-covered computer desk and found an upside down tube, slick on the outside from lube and precariously sealed with an entire week's payload of...

Well, you'll just have to do some cleaning before she gets back home.

You glance at the wall clock to check the time – two and a half hours until Lyra’s due to be back. It's not like waiting for an airplane – the mystery of how Lyra left is just as much a mystery as how she got here in the first place, but questioning isn't really important. The only thing that matters is that she'll be back soon, and you can finally resume a proper existence: one with hygiene and real food, and Lyra's...

Another glance at the clock.

More than enough time before she gets back.

There's nothing to unzip. As your computer monitor powers on (turning off the PC itself is a waste of time, considering how little else you've done this week) you undo the tiny button on the front of your boxers. There's always the option of stripping completely naked, but the feeling of semi-clothed masturbation makes you feel a little bit more like Lyra's actually there instead of the sad jizz-tube you've resorted to using as a replica. She always liked to come up to you at night or when you were sleeping and rub  herself against you, giggling when she feels you get hard in seconds.

Even though you've convinced yourself the approximation of a pony pussy within arm's reach isn't an entirely shameful replacement (the real-life logistics of fucking a cartoon pony now-withstanding), it's not something you can just dive into. There's a certain amount of build up necessary, and it's one that's best accompanied by the enthusiastic coaxing that only a hand can provided.

You're already growing by the time your fingers reach your half-hard shaft. Left hand at the front of your boxers, right hand on the mouse. So many bookmarks have made their way into your toolbar over the last few days. It's almost been enough to consider setting one of the databases to your home page, but that seems like the final step barring the admittance to yourself that your life is a complete mess.

Self-critique later.

The first of a hundred cataloged images jumps onto your screen. The pony in question looks just a bit like Lyra, though a little chubbier. Lyra packs a bit of pudge when she's sitting like a human the way she does, but for the most part she's fairly svelte – enough that you've been able to see the bulge in her stomach when you were all the way inside her. She's smaller than you, of course, but the idea that your member is big enough to fill her all the way up and let you see your own cock through the bump in her skin... the pictures aren't really necessary at this point; you always end up thinking of Lyra anyways.

You feel as hard as you need to be now. It'll be time to switch in a minute, but for now you leave your hand where it is, squeezing against the base of your cock and occasionally sliding upwards before finding a place back at the bottom of your shaft. As you think about Lyra, bent over in front of you and presenting herself with that cute little green tail flicking back and forth in desire, you cup your balls and feel a jolt go up your back as the sensation of your fingers through the cloth of your boxers makes your cock twitch.

Your hand reaches for the fleshlight.

As your fingers touch the slick exterior plastic, you hear a noise from the kitchen.

A door opening.

The same door closing follows a second later.

Wasn't it still a couple hours until...

You hear hooves on the kitchen tile.

This might mean no time for cleaning.

The wooden door to your bedroom creaks as it's pushed open. A horn in a bushel of mint-green hair peeks through followed by the rest of the bright-eyed unicorn it's attached to. Your hand leaves your cock, struggling to force it back inside your boxers before doing up the tiny button. The resulting bulge doesn't manage to look inconspicuous for even a moment, but it's the best you can do given the time-constricts of the situation.

"Surprise! I'm home early!"

Lyra's voice is just as cheerful and sing-song as you remember it. Despite the mass of filth and the unanticipated interruption of your pending 'personal' time, a flood of longing spills from your brain and sends a tight sort of happy-sadness into your chest.

Getting up through the floor of soft-drink cups with a rock-hard dick doesn't seem like a tactful, greeting, however.

Lyra looks to you immediately, not batting an eyelash at finding you in your boxers. Her smile is huge, and her eyes are bright and beaming. She looks like a kid on Christmas morning who's just unwrapped the present they've waited for all year.

Her smile falters just a bit when her eyes notice one of the garbage piles in the corner of the room.

"Did you... uh..." Lyra's voice falters as she scans the room. She sees the mound of McDonald's bags stuffed to the brim with burger boxes and used napkins. She sees the fallen tower of energy drink cans rolling over each other like log flumes atop a pile of dirty clothes. She sees the bed and cringes when the dissipated storm of crumbs stands out against the poorly chosen white of your bed sheets.

"...miss me?" she finishes, sounding somewhere in a cross between disgusted and horrified.

"I thought I'd have time to clean before you got home," you blurt out. Your hands are on your lap, primarily concerned with hiding the evidence of another of your bacheloresque indulgences. It's not something that Lyra hasn't seen before, but given the context of the situation it's probably not the best thing to draw attention to.

"I'd hope so," Lyra says, lifting a hoof cautiously through the sea of garbage and placing it several steps forward. The bedroom floor crunches when she rests her weight on the outstretched appendage.

"Is that an empty pie container?"

Lyra grimaces towards the black circle of plastic, buzzing and swarming with hungry fruit-flies either living in delusions from a pie gone past or sufficiently talented in their foraging to find morsels of sugary goodness long after the last scrap of visible filling has been eaten.

"Uh... yes."

Lyra makes her way through the rest of the trash-strewn floor on her way to you at your computer; she stops every other step to make sure she hasn't inadvertently picked up something it would be best to leave behind.

You can only sit there in stunned silence, wondering how best to apologize for devolving into modern-day equivalent of a primordial ooze stewing in its own crapulence.

Lyra turns her nose and sticks out her tongue at the smell of decaying food and fermenting sugar – but she cracks a smile when she reaches your chair, and prods one of your knees with an outstretched hoof.

"Remind me not to leave again any time soon," she says, grinning.

You manage a forced half-chuckle, and Lyra’s grin turns into a smirk.

"Have you just been sitting in this pile of garbage the entire week?" she asks, nudging one of the energy drink cans with her hind leg.

"Yes."

"Well... we'll clean up in a bit then." Lyra beams at you and snuggles her head into your leg. Somehow she still hasn't drawn attention to your hands awkwardly placed over your lap.

The fact that your erection hasn't gone down is a testament to the level of pent up sexual energy you've had in reserve with Lyra's absence – and now that she's here in person, your body seems fully convinced there's only one proper state to be in.

"So what did you do while I was gone, besides turning into a complete pig?" Lyra quips, shifting in the sea of garbage and sidling up next to you. She peeks her head up over your keyboard and takes a glance at your computer screen.

Crap.

"I, uh..." you stammer, reaching for your mouse in a far-too-late attempt to close the incriminating evidence standing in plain sight. Lyra reaches a hoof up and stops your hand as it reaches the left click button, pushing it away as she ogles your array of tabs.

"'e621 anus asshole bending over dripping horny pussy Raindrop'?" she quotes. She glances up at you from waist level, and the smirk on her face makes you wish you could crawl into a hole and stay there.

"I guess you really did miss me, huh?"

You nod, tongue tied by embarrassment.

"That doesn't even look like the real thing... you should know from experience. And I'm pretty sure Raindrop's not your type," Lyra says with a giggle, poking you with one of her forelegs.

"Mhm."

"Oh, lighten up! I don't mind. It's kind of a little flattering."

"...sorry."

"Stop apologizing! I was hurting for it too... just didn't have as much chance to take care of things as you apparently did."

Which means she's gone an entire week without it.

Finally, Lyra notices the placement of your hands. Her eyes widen, and you feel the budding tide of blush wash fully over your cheeks. You imagine you must look like some sort of animate tomato.

"Ohmigosh... were you...?"

You don't respond, but you let Lyra shove your hands away after a few seconds, revealing the tell-tale tent in your boxers. She smiles so wide her face threatens to break away from her neck, and holds back a giggle.

"Wow. A whole week and you're still not worn out?"

"'guess not," you respond.

"How many times a day?" Lyra asks, prodding playfully at your penis. You feel a shudder of excitement run up your body. Her commitment to the gesture doesn’t matter – the mere thought of her touching you is enough to yield a response, and you've missed her so much...

"Uh..."

"More than once?" she asks, now rubbing her hoof up and down the concealed length of your erection. The sensation of her delicate but eager attention is robbing you of your already impaired ability to speak. You manage a sentence after Lyra slows her touch, looking up at you with an expectant grin.

"...yes."

"How many more?" She finds your head and slows her massaging even further, touching just the tip with feather-light movements.

"Nngh... two or three."

"Holy-moly! That's pretty impressive, considering how hard you are right now."

Just like that, Lyra withdraws her hoof. You look to her in search of an explanation, though still partially wracked with an internal tempest of shame and embarrassment. Lyra greets you with exaggerated puppy dog eyes, sticking her bottom lip out in a guilt-inducing pout.

"You know, I'm a little offended. Here you were looking at other girls, going two or three times a day, when I was all by myself, missing you. You could have at least used the 'replacement' I left you."

A few seconds of silence pass.

You can't keep your eyes from darting to the side just once.

Lyra's gaze follows them.

"Ohmygosh..."

You don't make a move to block her vision. By this point your grave is already leagues deep – no effort in backtracking will fill it again.

Slowly, with the tiniest tremble in her legs, Lyra reaches out to the forearm sized tube on the corner of your desk. Her horn flares for a second as she slowly guides it into her hooves. The instant she feels the touch of slick plastic against her skin her eyes open as wide as dinner plates.

"Oh my gosh..." she repeats, bringing the fleshlight closer.

You managed to ignore it when your thoughts were elsewhere, but now, while you're bouncing between reluctant arousal and all-consuming shame, the smell is very noticeable; almost a little unbearable.

An entire week without cleaning, after all.

"This... every day?" Lyra asks, turning the fleshlight over in her hooves. The sheen of semi-permanent lube glistens under the bedroom light and dampens patches of her fur as she touches it.

You nod.

"Two or three times a day?" she asks.

Nod.

"Did you..." she lifts the tube under her nose.

"No."

"Ohhh..." she lets out a low murmur mixed with a moan as she inhales the scent of seven days worth of cum.

The button on the front of your boxers is threatening to pop.

"This is... this might be really fucked up," she starts, still turning the fleshlight over in her hooves and examining it. Her eyes are sparkling with a glimmer of something you're used to seeing when she pounces on you in the morning, and her tail is lifted a little bit, waving back and forth in small degrees of its own accord."–but for some reason, the idea of you jerking off with... me, essentially, all week, and all of it waiting for me when I got home... it's kind of... hot."

You blink.

She just said that. She said the idea was 'hot'.

"Are you serious?" you ask.

"...yeah," she ventures after a moment. "I mean, it's... don't get me wrong, it's pretty gross, especially given the state this room is in otherwise, but... I dunno. It, uh... it's got me kind of turned on."

"You're turned on from a week's worth of my jizz sitting in a fake mare vagina?"

Lyra doesn't answer properly. She bites her lip instead. You see her tail wagging behind her rump, swishing back and forth in the air like a cat suppressing a pounce.

"Huh,” you venture.

Lyra ogles the fleshlight again, holding it far closer to her face than you feel is advisable.

"I mean... just think about it from my perspective. I've been gone all week, and I really missed you... like, really badly–"

You feel a swell in your boxers at the desperation in Lyra's voice as she continues her detached explanation.

"–and here you've been living like a complete slob, only finding enough time in a day to... to think about me, and empty your cum into... into a substitute for... my p-pussy.."

Lyra's stuttering, and her attention is focused entirely on the black slippery tube she's holding, now levitating it in the air in front of her nose with magic.

"It's like all week, you've been... f-fucking me, and now I'm here and it's all waiting for me..." Lyra licks her lips as she levitates the fleshlight higher, holding it at eyelevel. She clenches her hind-legs tight enough that it's easy for you to notice from your nearby vantage point. She's doing a sort of shuffle dance, like a kid who has to the bathroom and can't hold it in.

The way she's eyeing the substitute pony-hole is making you nervous.

She levitates the tube closer, bringing it right in front of her snout, and inhales deeply. A shudder courses along Lyra's body, ending with a particularly fierce wiggle in her hindquarters.

"Doesn't that smell–"

"–gross?" Lyra interupts before you can finish. "Yes, it does, but it smells like a whole... a whole week of you saved up for me. I can imagine you there, curling your toes as you empty yourself inside."

Eurgh.

"That's enough, Lyra. It's unsanitary, and I know I should have cleaned up before you got here, including that thing–"

As you attempt to reach for the fleshlight, Lyra shoves your hand out the way with a hoof and moves the fleshlight to the side of her face, the tube still covered in the shimmer of lube and now a green glow from her magic.

"Doesn't it turn you on even just a little bit?" she asks. As she speaks, her magic moves the fleshlight over her head, and you see just the slightest shift in its orientation as the cap twists a bit to the side. “The thought of me opening this thing up and covering myself in a whole week’s worth of your cum?”

“Fuck, Lyra. That… I haven’t cleaned that thing all week. It’s gross.”

“I know,” Lyra says, unscrewing the cap a little more. “It’s fucking disgusting.” She shivers as the fleshlight opens properly and the scent of seven days worth of old jizz wafts out across her palette. “But… I dunno. It’s really hot too.”

“I’m not sure–“

“Come on!” Lyra says to you, hovering the open fleshlight above her head, waiting for its payload to be unleashed. “You don’t wanna see me take a week’s worth of facials from you all in one go?”

“I–“

“What about just a little bit? What if I just dribbled a couple drops onto my face… and then you can feel how wet this is making me and rut me like you’ve been wanting to while I was gone.”

Hngh.

“…Alright,” you say. The idea of an eager to please Lyra is a sure-fire way to weaken your resolve – and she’s right. There is something about how disgusting her proposal is. If it’s just a few drops… as gross as it might be, you can feel yourself throbbing under your boxers.

Lyra grins, and aims the tip of the tube right at her snout. The twisty cap is already fully undone, and Lyra shifts it further away from the body of the toy like a scientist pouring a careful drop into a waiting beaker. You can see her hind legs shuddering as the rubbery green tip comes into view.

“Fuck,” she says simply, edging the top further away by fractions of an inch. “I wish you could be inside me right now so you could feel how turned on I am from this. I’m gonna get to taste your cum from seven days ago, cum that you saved up in this disgusting room when you were beating off and thinking about f-fucking me–“

Amidst her filthy diatribe, Lyra pulls the cap off. It comes faster than you guess she had intended, popping away in one smooth motion, perhaps provoked by a jolt of sudden excitement from her own dirty talk.

The world slows to a crawl for a moment as Lyra opens her mouth expectantly.

In an instant the difference between expectation and reality blurs together.

You imagine Lyra must have been expecting a thicker consistency – something more like the facials she’s used to when she gets you off in person. But a week’s worth of cum – twenty-three loads, give or take – does not sit the same in a pony flesh-tube as it does coming straight from the source. It gets thinner, almost watery – that among the other changes, like the smell, and the colouration. From white to yellow, and vaguely salty sweat to disgusting unwashed socks and soggy pretzels.

The sudden flow of aged semen takes her completely off guard. Where she’d been prepared for a thimbleful at most, a waterfall torrent of slippery yellow-white goop spurts out of the clenched opening of the proxy of her own pussy. The second the first touch hits the rest follows immediately, splashing over Lyra’s fur like a bucket of wretched paint. She closes her eyes to keep the liquid out, resulting in her eyelids being covered in what seems like a gallon’s worth of saved up cum. It splashes onto her snout where bits of the liquid fleck into her nostrils. Some of it splashes up onto her ears and mane, adding yellowish streaks to her hair. As her open mouth accommodates, a decent portion of the sudden load lands on her tongue, which she holds out, apparently too shocked to withdraw it.

The flow happens in a single instant – and when time reasserts itself, a good portion of the remaining cum leaks out plainly, splashing off Lyra’s face and landing on the ground – or, more accurately, on the makeshift carpet of food wrappers above the ground.

A long strand hangs obscenely off Lyra’s nose and drips downward.

You’re not sure how to react.

“Fffffuck…” Lyra drawls, bits of cum hanging off her lips. They make their way into her mouth as she finishes speaking, and to your surprise and partial revulsion, she swallows them. Her body follows with a shudder so intense you’re not sure if she’s just cum herself.

“I… am covered… in a face full of your cum right now.”

Yes, and it’s been in that fleshlight for over a week.

“I can taste every time you’ve gotten off this week… every single time you shot inside your substitute me, I can feel it on my skin and smell it and taste it, and… and…”

“Lyra?”

Lyra’s shaking a bit. Her hooves are moving slightly against the floor’s covering of garbage. She manages to open her eyes, and the strands of semen slosh out of the way, collecting on her eyelashes like a disgusting gel. Lyra looks at you, her face flushed and still covered in a slimy bucket-full of your jizz.

“Kiss me,” she says.

“What?!”

“Kiss me,” she says again, moving forward and placing her hooves on your knees imploringly. As she gets closer your senses are hit suddenly with the scent of Lyra’s face-wash, and the strength of the stench almost sends you reeling backwards. The pungent aroma is indescribable – it’s akin to the sheen of perma-sweat layering your body, but a million times more acidic. It reminds you of marathon sex-session with your perfect green mare, but cut with the wafting smell of passing garbage trucks.

“No!” you say, summarizing your reaction to your own body-fluids in a single thought.

“Please!” Lyra presses herself further forward, resting her weight on your lower body and looking up at you imploringly. Normally the sight inspires instant sympathy, but right now you’re face to face with a shivering cum-covered mess, gone from composed to filthy in an instant’s splash of your fleshlight’s payload.

As you balk at the sight of Lyra’s slimy visage she moves one of her hooves to the still persistent bulge in your underwear and starts rubbing it with vigor, stroking up and down the length of your shaft as she grinds her stomach onto your knee.

“Please,” she repeats. “I need you to, so bad, you have no idea how turned on I am right now. I feel filthy, I need you to kiss me, I need you to kiss me while I’m coated in seven day’s worth of your jizz–“

“Lyra, no! I’m not going… kiss you while you’re coated in… no!”

“Pleaaaase!” Lyra begs, rubbing harder on your cock which remains treacherously hard. “Just a little one, a tiny peck on the lips, and then you can rut me like a filthy slut and cum inside me all you want…”

Lyra’s language has gone off the deep end, even filthier than the bursts of profanity she’s prone to under normal circumstance.

You did miss her.

Just a little peck on the lips?

“Just a tiny kiss?” you ask, eyeing Lyra’s dripping face with apprehension.

“Yes!” she replies, shaking her head up and down enthusiastically. You cringe as you feel spatters of cum landing against your bare leg, and likely elsewhere in the room on the various piles of garbage. “Just a small one, and then we can fuck, okay? Please?”

You raise an eyebrow. Lyra looks at you like a kid at the candy store, begging to be bought a treat.

You can feel the way she’s arching her back into your body.

And… damnit. Maybe it is a little hot.

“Okay.”

Lyra restrains herself from jumping for joy, but she does smile and give an eager rub along your cock, which prompts you to stifle a groan.

Better get this over with.

You wait for Lyra to lean further forward, getting her head just far enough away that you have room to reach down and give her a kiss. She closes her eyes, the wash of cum coming down to cover them again, and her snout wrinkles as she puckers her lips and waits for your kiss. Cringing, you shut your own eyes, and lean forward–

The feeling of slimy goo on your cheek almost forces your eyes open.

You feel Lyra’s hooves behind your neck suddenly.

Instead of a peck on the lips, you feel slimy, salty liquid along with Lyra’s tongue.

“Mmmmmmmmm…”

Lyra lets out one long continuous moan that jumps in volume on a second-by-second basis as she kisses you. She kisses you hungrily, like she’s been starving and your lips are her only source of nourishment. Her tongue swirls around your mouth in search of yours, and you feel the weight of her body as she practically jumps on top of you, grabbing your head and forcing it forward.

She kisses you with the strength of a week’s worth of desire. Amidst her panting and depraved moaning you taste salt. You taste unwashed vegetables. Something like sweat mixed with expired meat. It is disgusting.

Lyra shares the taste with you. When your tongue meets hers, she moans louder and takes the bits of cum splashing between your mouths into hers, swallowing them eagerly along with your saliva.

You missed her kisses and this one is a hell of a way to remember what you’ve gone without for the last week; that among other things. It’s almost enough to help you ignore the pungent aroma coupled with the texture of a runny egg slipping its way around your mouth until Lyra’s tongue catches it in clean-up duty.

As Lyra moans into your mouth you can feel her gyrating her hips in your direction, thrusting forward at nothing in particular but with the object of her desire presented in ethereal penetration. And all the while her hooves keep moving on your cock, massaging it vigorously for the attention she’s prepped you to expect.

“Ah…” At last, Lyra pulls away, leaving a viscous strand of saliva mixed with cum hanging between your lips. Her face is flushed, and her breathing is ragged. Whatever trepidation you had due to the layer of sticky fluid coating her face has been pushed aside by the loving manipulation of your excitement – and despite the almost comical look of Lyra’s face as she bats her goo-covered eyelashes at you, beneath the mask of day-old cum, you can see how badly she wants you.

And, she’s right, to an extent. The sight of her covered in a filthy layer of saved-up facials is kind of hot in its depravity.

Lyra’s eyes spark suddenly with urgency. Before you can react she leans her face forward. You feel a tiny touch of sticky fluid against your stomach as she locks her mouth onto the top of your boxers, and, with little fanfare, yanks them down, giving you barely enough time to lift your legs to prevent a tangle around your ankles. As your cock springs up in place of Lyra’s head as it vanishes downwards, Lyra throws the boxers to a corner of the room, letting them land on whatever pile of trash they see fit to find. And just like that she’s turned around and rubbing herself against your leg.

She wasn’t kidding when she said she was wet.

It feels like a miniature water-slide against your skin – Lyra arches her back and grinds herself against you, rubbing her hips in circles and pressing into you the way a cat might rub its face on your hand. Her pussy certainly is eager for something…

“In,” she says, turning to face you. A glob of cum drips from her chin and lands on the floor with a soft pap against a food-wrapper. “Put it in. No waiting. Now.”

You steel yourself to get up, but Lyra grinds back against you harder, taking away your ability to move in favour of continued rubbing her of slit against your skin. Your feel a constant touch of moisture as she dips her head down, waving her butt at you and sliding her pussy up and down your leg.

“Lyra–“

“Please, in, now, put it in, fuck me, Celestia, please fuck me, I need it so bad–“

Lyra doesn’t realize she’s preventing you from getting up, and she starts pressing herself back harder, for everything but penetration fucking you with only her motion in the equation.

“Lyra–“

“Fuck, please, I need you to fuck me, I need your cock, please just put it in, please, please rut me, please fill me up with your cum, please please please please please–“

“Lyra!”

The volume of your shout gives Lyra a moment’s pause in her delirious begging. Her hips stop for a moment, and she looks up at you over her shoulder, blushing bashfully through her face full of cum.

“You need to let me get up first.”

“I’m sorry.” Lyra bites her lip and scoots forward just a bit, pulling herself off your leg and finally letting you stand. “I just… I really, really need you right now.”

Your feet shuffle through the garbage on the carpet as you place your hands on Lyra’s flank. You feel a jolt of excitement run through her body as she senses the imminent heat of your member swinging freely only inches behind her.

You don’t want to waste any time, but you can’t help but dawdle just slightly as you line yourself up. You have to admire Lyra’s body after having missed it for what felt like an eternity. Her skin and fur are so soft, they’re like silk under your touch – and though she’s always been on the skinnier side, her butt-cheeks have just the right amount of give, squishy and pliable under your fingers. You hear her let out a breathless sigh as you rub her haunches for a moment while positioning yourself at the entrance to her dripping marehood.

Even before you enter, you feel her juices leaking onto your head, soaking it completely.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck…” Lyra mutters under her breathe, wiggling her ass back and forth in an effort to force you inside.

In a display of ultimate sadism, you slide inside just half an inch, and hear Lyra’s begging murmurs grow louder.

“…fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Lyra’s pussy is clenching even before you’re properly inside, winking and leaking with her arousal like she’s in heat; it’s enough to put away the idea of any teasing. You’re not about to keep her waiting any longer than this. Besides which; you’re eager to begin as well.

With one smooth motion of your hips, you thrust forward and slide inside in one fluid movement.

“Fuck!”

Lyra screams as you bottom out in her pussy. Instantly, you feel her walls spasming around the length of your cock, clenching it like a vice. You can’t tell if she’s cum immediately, or if she’s just so excited that the long-awaited sensation of penetration has gotten her close with a single thrust.

You can empathize with the feeling. Being mid-way through your own satisfaction before Lyra arrived home alongside her attention here and there – not to mention how hot she looks arching her back and squeezing your cock like that – you already feel close yourself.

Cautiously, you draw back until just the tip of your cock is inside again, and Lyra bends to meet you, pressing her ass as far back as she can in an attempt to keep you buried. The thought of teasing cast away in the back of your mind, you thrust forward again, and Lyra lets out a low groan as she bends her face practically level to the ground. You hear the faint noise of a splatter of cum onto a piece of trash again, but it’s almost instantly drowned out by Lyra’s muttered stream of profanity. As you start to move again, your motion is followed by a constant tirade of “fuck “or “damn” spewing from Lyra’s mouth.

The thing you missed most about Lyra, you decide as you bottom out with your head pressing against the furthest part of her inner walls which she meets with an enthusiastic clench, is her curves.

As much as the substitute she left behind might try to match the feeling of a real pussy, it’s doomed to pale in comparison to the real thing – and more than that, there’s nothing more arousing than the sight of Lyra’s perfectly shaped butt-cheeks waggling at you as she arches her back and thrusts back into your movement, grinding against your pelvis as your shaft is swallowed by her cunt. The way her legs meet just so and form a perfect set of overlapping haunches which lead upward to a sublimely svelte behind – and the way her stomach and spine bend perfectly as she arches her body, leading to the rest of her limbs which taper just so as they meet her joints, and look so slender and perfect on the way down – all of it next to her face, a combination of cute and sexy in mint-green with big beautiful eyes and a delightful spike of often-disheveled mane.

There’s no contest on which you prefer more.

As if she can read your mind, Lyra manages to drag her head upward from its bent over position spewing erstwhile profanity, and smiles devilishly back at you through her week’s worth of cumshots.

“F-feel… better than… f-fucking a… plastic… one?” she asks, stammering each time you thrust inside her. Every time you feel her clench around your shaft, and her forelegs jitter and grind into the carpet as her body fights the urge to arch back to her face down ass up pose of preference.

“Of course,” you manage, burying yourself for a particularly deep thrust which elicits a drawn out “ahhh” from Lyra. As you swivel your hips to meet her answering gyrations, Lyra’s eyes spring open suddenly, bright with light-bulbs flickering behind.

“Gimme… gimme the tube…” she pants, beckoning at you with a shake of her head.

“Huh?” You pause for a moment, letting yourself revel in the feeling of Lyra’s walls squeezing your cock like a wet warm blanket. You could probably cum just like this, after waiting just a few minutes.

“The… the thing, the toy… give it here.”

The fleshlight is the last thing on your mind now that you’re inside the real thing. What does Lyra want with it?

Lyra manages a half-glare in answer to your confusion. You take a moment to look around the room. Where did it end up again?

You find it there, by Lyra’s forelegs in a mound of energy drink containers, almost blending in with it despite its shininess. You have to bend into Lyra further to retrieve it, and she moans softly as you take hold of the slippery black plastic now with the perverse green tip fully exposed.

“Why do you–“

Lyra snatches the fleshlight from you with a burst of magic, and in the same instant thrusts her hips back without abandon, hilting you as hard as she can and rubbing the walls of her pussy against your twitching cock-head. You stifle a groan, and as you open your eyes taken aback from the sudden movement, you find Lyra smiling back at you with the fleshlight poised in front of her face.

“I bet there’s some of you I missed,” she says, face still covered in cum. As you watch, she nuzzles her face forward, pressing her snout into the slimy yellowed pony feel-alike, and sticks her tongue into the hole.

Your cock jumps as she draws out a glob of cum left behind and holds it languidly out for you to see. The texture is thicker than the layer of watery gel coating her face, and the more normal colour leads you to believe it’s from a recently deposited delivery.

Lyra bats her cum-covered eyelashes at you once, smirks with her tongue outstretched, and then takes it into her mouth. You see her throat twitch as she swallows, and feel the accompanying shudder run through her pussy.

“Fuck me,” she says, poising her mouth at the fleshlight’s opening again. “I want you to fuck me while I drink your cum like it’s waiting for me in my own pussy.”

Fuck.

You can’t refuse. The instant you pull back Lyra slathers her tongue up and down the fake slit in front of her face, and slides it inside with the same motion of your dick into her own pussy. She buries her face in the substitute pony-vag as you fuck her in earnest, feeling a heated electricity course through your skin as you watch the object of your affection give her simulacrum-self an enthusiastic licking while you pound her from behind. The profane mutterings don’t vanish, but they’re muffled now by the rubbery green skin-texture around Lyra’s snout.

You didn’t feel like you’d last long, but it might be time to say something at this point.

“Lyra… I’m not gonna last much longer.”

“Mmm…” Lyra moans and pulls herself away from the fleshlight, licking a dollop of cum from her cheek as it drips into her mouth. “Me… neither…” she answers, speech broken up by your continued thrusting.

“No, I mean, I’m really not going to last much longer…”

“Oh, fuck, don’t yet, I’m really close, please, just a little bit…” Lyra throws the fleshlight to the ground and arches her back again, pressing herself up against your hips as hard as she can. You feel the tell-tale shuddering of her pussy around your shaft, which certainly isn’t helping the matter of your own fortitude.

“Lyra…” you begin to caution.

“Almost, almost, fuck, fuck, fuck…” Lyra’s movements are erratic now, thrashing backwards instead of moving her hips in a controlled fashion. She throws herself onto your dick to meet your thrusts like she’s possessed, swearing under her breath the whole time. Her pussy feels like a vice, dripping constantly onto your cock, and now so tight every inch inside feels like you’re guiding yourself into a hot, wet tunnel.

You’re not sure you can hold out.

“Lyra–“

Suddenly Lyra’s swearing stops. Her whole body freezes, completely stationary. The only part of her you can feel moving is her insides, giving the sensation of a hand clenching around your shaft so hard it feels like it might be crushed.

After a second of silence and desperate squinting of Lyra’s pussy, you hear a splash against the garbage underfoot, as loud as someone emptying a water bottle from waist-height. You feel the liquid hit your skin too as Lyra sprays a torrent of girlcum against the base of your shaft. You’ve never seen her squirt that much, so much it feels like there might be a small pool collecting in one of the discarded wrappers by your feet.

“Fuck,” Lyra follows with a whisper, accompanying a shudder along the entire length of her body. Her back is arched like a cat stretching, and you feel the after-tremors of her orgasm shiver along your cock.

You’re one thrust away, if that.

“Lyra–“ you start, to warn her.

Before you can move, Lyra slides herself forward, the slippery insides of her cunt sliding up your shaft as she moves herself away. As her hips disappear from your periphery your cock is left standing obscenely in front of you, dripping with Lyra’s juices and twitching from the proximity of your climax. Out of necessity you reach your hand forward to take hold of your shaft and deliver the orgasm you’ve been waiting all week to have–

“No!” Lyra shouts, batting your hand away with a burst of magic. You look slightly to the side to find her new position, kneeling on a pile of garbage just to your right. One of her hooves is between her legs, moving furiously, while the other is at the side of her face, sliding along her fur and collecting globs of sick-smelling fluid and spooning them into her mouth. She moans quietly, and opens her eyes, looking up at you to offer an explanation.

“Don’t… don’t yet… really close again…”

“Lyra, please, I’m already almost–“

“Don’t!” Lyra yells absent-mindedly, closing her eyes and frigging herself frantically. As she continues, she collects the last remnants of her face-wash and slides them onto her tongue, savouring the disgusting day-old aroma before swallowing and moaning as the slippery texture slides down her throat.

“Lyra…”

You’re so close, just one touch, if she’d just let you…

“Almost,” Lyra says, swaying slightly as she touches herself. “Almost… don’t… d-don’t…”

“Please, Lyra–“

“Okay,” Lyra answers, scrunching her face in concentration. “Nnnn…now. Now. Do it now, please, cum all over me, please, please–“

You don’t need the encouragement. The second your fingers grip the base of your cock you feel your balls clench, and a jolt of lightning runs up your spine as your cock tenses.

Lyra opens her eyes just in time to see the first spurt of cum spew out from your head, aimed right at her face.

“Oh, Celestia…” she moans, clenching her hind legs around her hoof as you spray your load onto her skin. Her orgasm is louder this time, a chorus of frantic “mmm”s and “ahhh”s as you paint her in a fresh load of cum. The sight of her shuddering as you bathe her in shot after shot of your jizz only intensifies your own climax. It feels better than any amount of self-pleasure with a plastic-tube. Your hips shudder as you shoot another strand across Lyra’s nose and she opens her mouth wantonly to catch the stream.

After five long spurts you’re done. Your balls are emptied for now, and you collapse, falling back on the computer chair waiting behind you.

Lyra mimics your motion, falling to the ground with a thud and landing in the sea of discarded food-wrappers and other trash.

You take a moment to collect your breath, panting heavily as the last tingles of your orgasm send a final twitch or two along your cock.

As you breathe, you hear something – a shuffling along the floor, like bits of the garbage moving around.

“Mmm…” Lyra murmurs at you from the ground. Her fall has left her head next to your chair’s wheels, and she stares up at you with her eyes half-open, covered in small left-behind portions of your fleshlight’s payload as well as a decent helping of your orgasm from a minute ago. Her face is flushed behind the layer of sticky white goo, and as you look to her shoulders, you notice one of her forelegs is moving again. You hear the accompanying sound of a trash-pile shifting.

Lyra’s hoof is between her hind legs again, rubbing in circles against her clit.

“Again?” you ask, incredulous.

Lyra simply nods and reaches her other hoof up to you, which you take awkwardly in your hand. You hold it as Lyra continues to pleasure herself, grinding in circles at her own touch, all to the soundtrack of the wrappers scratching against each other as she misplaces them and her own faint murmurs mixed with shallow breathing.

You watch her close her eyes and bite her lower lip as she presses her hoof harder into your hand. You clench your fingers against her touch, squeezing gently as she moans through her teeth. Several strands of cum slide ever so slightly as she swivels her head back and forth, rubbing her hoof up and down faster and faster until she stops suddenly. You hear a hiss as she breathes in sharply, and feel her body tense through the movement of her hoof in your hand.

“Ahh…” Lyra breathes out suddenly and collapses back into the floor, letting her hoof slide away from your hand as you relinquish your grasp.  Her breathing is mingled with moans that sound desperate and worn-out.

You both rest for a minute, attempting to collect enough air to will away the feeling of light-headedness. Even the tepid garbage-tinged air of your bedroom feels refreshing right now.

After a minute, Lyra reaches her hoof up again, and you take it in your hand, squeezing it like a hug through proxy of extended touch. You look down at her and smile, and she smiles back at you through the lines of cum layered across her face. Her eyes shimmer with earnest happiness, and you imagine yours are doing the same.

“I missed you,” you say. Her hoof presses firmer into your palm.

“I missed you too,” she says.

You sigh together, Lyra’s exhale accompanied by the shudder of a nearby burger-wrapper.

After what doesn’t feel like nearly long enough basking in the silence and each other’s company, you consider the logistics of your current surroundings.

“I guess I should get to work cleaning this place up–woah!”

With an unexpected force, your whole body is picked up and thrown sideways, landing unceremoniously on the crumb-covered bedspread several feet away. Your skin jitters with the tingle of magic as you settle into the bed sheets, turning onto your back to look for what you know is the source of your sudden uprooting.

Lyra lands on top of you without warning, pushing not quite all the air out of your lungs by virtue of her slender frame. She smiles at you as she rubs her body along your naked skin, green fur sliding against your chest and her limbs stretched out to reach down the length of your entire frame.

“Uh-uh,” she says, grinning and straddling you at the waist, rubbing herself up and down your now again growing excitement. “I wanna get really filthy before I do any cleaning up.”

It’s good to have her home again.