Warning/Disclaimer: The following chapter contains depictions of an eccentric sexual encounter between two cartoon horses, one of whom is well past the age of consent, and another who is above the age of consent in the state of Hawaii and select other countries. If the fetishitic nature of a sexually eccentric older woman offends you, then you will never know why Stacie’s mom had it going on.

Having Your Cake And Eating Her Out Too

Written By: Your Antagonist

Act D- Bakin’ Up a Cutie Cake With Your Auntie ‘Kinky’ Pie (Gettin’ Kinky In The Kitchen With A Cradle Robbin’ Cutie)

When Pound Cake rounded the corner to his room, it became immediately apparent that something was amiss: the door to his room was ajar slightly, when it should have been very much closed. As an overly-cautious, chronic masturbator, Pound had made it a habit to always shut his door upon entering and leaving his room, without fail, and this morning was no exception. That said, as he approached his door cautiously, he was already trying to discern a list of potential culprits in his head.

His parents were still downstairs catering the party as they would be for the remainder of the evening until the early hours of the morning. He could almost see them smiling wearily but genuinely as the hours dragged on and things gradually began to slow. His thoughts then flipped to Pumpkin. He hadn’t seen her come up the stairs. In fact, the last he saw her she’d been talking to Sweetie Belle, Princess Sparkle, and that odd Trixie mare. He briefly wondered if the unicorns had some sort of unspoken, arcane bond in their horns that forced them to conglomerate with the rest of their ilk.

Pound shook his head and thought harder as he pushed the door open. Who could it have been? A little lost foal? Some party guest who’d drank too much? Regardless of speculation, he was about to find out.

Pound stepped into the room, eyes peeled and guard up, but saw nothing. The whole room was as he’d left it, nary a hide or hair was out of place. Even the piles of books, work aprons and assorted junk scattered about like landmines seemed absolutely untouched, which begged the question: just who was in here and why?

Keeping the question at the very forefront of his mind, Pound ventured deeper into his room, his eyes open and his ears piqued for the slightest of sounds and the most miniscule of movements. He swept his gaze from wall to wall, his bed to his closet and nightstand to dresser, but much to his disappointment, the room was deserted save for himself.

Pound sighed and rubbed his forehead. Perhaps he was just tired and imagining things. After all, it had been a long day working in the kitchen, maybe he was reading entirely too much into the situation. Maybe it was something as simple having forgotten to shut the door behind himself in his haste, Pumpkin accidentally tripping and bumping into the door—he snickered at the thought—, or even the wind. However, as he was steadily entertaining these thoughts and theories, a disembodied chuckle rolled through the vacant room.

“He he he…”

Needless to say, this put Pound right back on edge, causing him to frantically whip about in search of the source of the noise. “What the— who’s there?”

“Awww, Pound, now if I told you that, then this wouldn’t be much of a game, would it?”

It took Pound a moment to recognize the voice. “Aunt Pinkie?”

“Aww, phooey… lucky guess…”

“Where are you?”

“Oh, I’m… ‘hanging around’,” Pinkie Pie chuckled.

“You’re seriously starting to creep me out.”

“Creeping you out? Awww, I just wanted to play a little game with the cutest colt in Equestria…”

“You want to play a… game?” Pound asked, still scouring the recesses of his room for the plus-sized, fluorescent pink mare bearing a standard issue mile wide smile that he was just not seeing.

“Mmmhmmm, it’s one of your favorites too.”

Pound tilted his head in puzzlement. A favorite game of his? What was she driving at? Fortunately for Pound, he wouldn’t have to wonder for very long as Pinkie Pie elaborated.

“The rules are ♪~sim-ple~♪, you get three shotsie-wotsies, and if you can find and catch me within those, I’ll give you a nice surprise…”

A surprise too? Pound wondered.

“…but if you can’t, then I get to give you an even ‘nicer’ surprise ”

Pound took a moment to process Pinkie’s words. If he won, he’d get something, but if he lost he’d get something better. As usual, his aunt was speaking nonsensically. “What do you mean ‘a nicer’ surprise?”

“You have to play the game to find out, silly.”

Of course I do, he sighed, scratching the back of his head. Still, it wasn’t like he’d planned to do anything better with his evening. At best his plans possessed all the range of curling up with a dirty magazine and adding to the collection of strangely unbleachable stains on his bedsheets that he already had a hard enough time explaining to his mother on laundry day. Somehow, this seemed like a more productive use of his seemingly-worthless time. “All right, I’m in.”

“I knew you’d say yes, Cutie Cake. Now, are you ready? Wheeeere’s Pinkie Pie?”

Where's Pinkie Pie, huh? That is the question, isn't it? Pound glanced around his room, trying to think of the best possible hiding spots amidst the cluttered mess. Deciding to start with the most obvious place first, he started towards his bed, his aunt’s constant sidebar commentary assuring him that he was headed down the right track.

“You’re getting warmer...”

Hiding under the bed, auntie? he thought with a grin. You’ve made this too easy for me.

“Absolutely burning up..."

Pound couldn’t fight the feeling of giddiness he was deriving from this game, the corners of his mouth pulling up as he noticed something fluffy and pink poking out from beneath the covers of his bed. Confirmation. Kneeling down, he threw the sheets aside and proclaimed proudly, “Found you, auntie— huh?” To Pound’s confusion, he found not his aunt, but rather a pink feather duster—that looked uncannily like her tail— taped to a dry erase board sporting the message: ‘You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you, Cutie Cake? -Pinkie Pie♥’.

“Oooh, so close but so far… but you’re always welcome to try again,” Pinkie Pie teased from her ninja-esque hiding spot.

Scratching his head, Pound picked himself off the floor and began resurveying his room for decent hiding spots. Hmmm… I doubt she’s hiding in my dirty laundry… and there’s no way that she’d fit in my dresser drawers— eh, actually I don’t doubt that she could, especially not after that time we had to save her from drowning in the plumbing—

“Achoo!” Sneezed Pound’s ever enigmatic aunt, directing his attention towards the last place he’d expect her to hide only because it seemed so obvious: his closet. In fact if he closed his eyes and focused his ears hard enough he could even hear a faint rustling and giggling from behind the door. There was no mistaking it, she had to be in there. Dashing over, he threw the door open and found himself faced with small mountains of boxes, boardgames, aprons and notebooks, very unsubtle reminders that a cleaning day was more or less in order.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a slight shifting from the largest and farthest pile and pounced on it, immediately shredding the junkpile apart. Pound dug and dug into the mass of copious crap until he felt something sharp and hot cut his hoof.

“Agh! What the hell!?” Pound cautiously stepped back, holding his hoof while keeping his eyes trained on the pile. A moment later he saw something small, green and scaly wiggle and waggle its way into the light, revealing itself to be none other than Sugarcube Corner’s resident one-toothed alligator: Gummy.

“Huh, what were you doing in my closet?” Pound reached down and scooped up the tiny reptilian and nearly jumped out of his skin when Pinkie Pie channeled her voice through her alligator conduit. “He he, and that’s strike two, Pound!”

Absolutely terrified, Pound found himself debating on whether or not to hurl the Pinkie-Pie-possessed-pet into the hallway when he noticed several layers of tape wrapped around Gummy’s belly. Flipping the tiny snapping alligator around, his face scrunched up in frustration as he found the source of his aunt’s seemingly spectral speech. “A... a walkie talkie!?” Truly, she had taken this little game to the next level.

“One more guess, Cutie Cake,” Pinkie’s voice crackled through the radio. “You’d better make it count. Or is auntie’s hiding spot just going ‘over your head’? You know what Twilight says: you’ve got to start applying some ‘higher thinking’.”

Setting Gummy on the floor, where he waddled back into the cramped closet, Pound was completely and utterly stumped as to where his aunt could have been. He’d checked under his bed and in his closet, and unless Pinkie Pie had shrunken to the size of a parasprite, there was no way in hay she was underneath any of the random articles on his floor. Still, he’d checked behind the door, wall to wall and floor to…

‘—over your head?’

‘—higher thinking.’

“…ceiling.” As it finally dawned on him, he slowly turned his gaze to the ceiling of his room and sure as day there, in all her breathtakingly eccentric glory, was none other than Pinkie Pie, suspended from the ceiling by a harness and a series of complicated ropes and knots that resembled the web of an especially massive spider. Even odder than the harness was the outfit she wore, if it could be called as such. Reminiscent of a Hearth’s Warming present, the voluptuous and full curves that he’d come to love gazing upon had been hidden away by a ribbon bound box that encompassed the entirety of her plump and perfect frame, save for her legs, tail, and head.

Pound opened his mouth to remark upon the absurdity of the situation, but before he could utter a single word, Pinkie Pie pulled a small cord on her harness and began plummeting downwards faster than the awestruck colt could blink, shouting: “Here I am!” as she went.

Pound could only watch on in slow motion as the mareborne missile crashed into him, causing his vision to explode in an ocean of stars in addition to sprawling him on his back. Groaning and rubbing his head, he sat up slowly only to find himself crushed beneath his aunt’s ridiculous costume and her ten-ton smile. Admittedly, he’d always wanted to feel her robust frame straddling his slender hips, but this wasn’t exactly what he had in mind. “Ugh… so, this means that I win, right?”

“Mmm…. nope.”

“Nope?”

“Yup. Nope.”

“What do you mean ‘nope’?”

“I mean you didn’t win.”

“But I found you fair and square!”

“You might’ve found me, Cutie Cake, but I caught you, and if you remember, I said you had find and catch me in order to win.”

“But— I mean— you never even said anything about catching me!”

“But I also didn’t never not say nothing about me catching you either.”

“I—” Pound had to take a moment to let the double negatives process before he saw his aunt’s fallaciously driven point. Upon realizing that any further arguing would merely be grasping at straws he promptly shut his trap, his features deflating in a salty, flat look.

“Aww, come on, Cutie Cake, don’t you want to know what you won for losing?”

Pound’s ears perked up at that, his tense expression softening as he recalled his aunt mentioning something about awarding him a better surprise if he lost their little game. “Uh, sure, I guess— wait, this isn’t another trick, is it?” Considering the nature of his loss, Pound was still rather suspicious of his aunt.

“Nah,” Pinkie Pie waved the colt’s concerns away with a hoof. “More of a treat than a trick. Now...” She took Pound’s hoof and guided it towards one of the larger bows on her ensemble. “Why don’t you see what you’ve won?”

Pound met his aunt’s eagerly grinning face with a nervous glance before finding it within himself to grip the ribbon tightly. Pound gave a dry swallow and tugged down, his mind swimming with thoughts of what lay beneath the packaging as he pulled down on the ribbon. As it fell away, a geyser of confetti and light erupted from the box, blinding him, forcing him to turn away and shield his eyes.

A moment later when the ticker tape typhoon subsided and the intense luminosity had died down, Pound opened his eyes and blinked his bleary world back into existence only to find himself baffled by a drastic shift in his surroundings. Gone was the familiar disarray of his room, the numerous piles of junk and neglect having been replaced with actual flooring and some semblance of order. The decorum of magazine posters and teen angst had been replaced by pastel paintings of pastries and candy themed furniture, with a healthy dose of balloons and streamers sprinkled about. However, the most eye catching change wasn’t one that he’d find in the pink and pastry overtones of his environment, but rather on his person; straddling his thighs to be exact.

Sitting on his legs was none other than Pinkie Pie, sans the outlandish gift-wrapped outfit she’d been sporting earlier. In its place, blue and yellow striped stockings dug into the fat of her voluptuous thighs while a small frilly apron—that Pound was almost certain belonged to his sister— pinched at the pudge of the buxom beauty’s belly. Pound felt his mouth work uselessly, words failing him as he took in the older mare’s suggestive ensemble.

“You ready to get started?” Pinkie Pie asked, snapping the colt from his stupefied state as she ran a hoof down his chest.

“I… I… what?”

Pinkie Pie rolled her eyes, shook her head and giggled. “Your surprise, silly. I was planning on making you a special dessert.”

“Oh, so we’re going to do some baking then?” Pound asked as he tried to sit up. The word ‘tried’ here implying a lack of success as he’d been so shocked by the circumstances that he hadn’t noticed his forehooves and hindlegs had been tied off to each of his aunt’s bedposts by some remarkably strong licorice ropes. What the—

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Pinkie Pie interrupted the colt’s thoughts. “Your parents did the all the ‘baking’ a good while ago, so all I have to do is...” Pinkie Pie clapped her hooves together, and a small cart full of icing and whipped-cream canisters slowly rolled to the bed, unassisted, from seemingly nowhere. “...decorate,” she finished with a scheming grin.

Pound looked at the cart and briefly wondered if his aunt had enslaved a poltergeist—admittedly he wouldn’t have been surprised in the slightest if she had— before turning his attention back to the magenta mare herself. Having grown up with his aunt’s eccentricity lurking figuratively, and literally, around every corner Pound was more than accustomed to his aunt’s random and volatile nature— in fact it was one of the things he truly admired about her.

That said, while the colt was used to walking away from an encounter with Pinkie Pie absolutely dazed, confused and, on occasion, a few I.Q. points shorter for his troubles, this predicament took the cake, no pun intended.

More than a few questions ran through the colt’s mind as he tried to wrap his mind around the puzzling predicament he found himself in. Why was he tied up? What was she talking about, decorate? And what dessert? He didn’t see anything on the cart that looked remotely like a bare pastry in need of a good frosting. Fortunately, he wouldn’t have to wonder too much longer.

“Figured it out yet, Cutie-Cake?” Pinkie Pie asked her very confused nephew, who very much had not figured as his brain was still desperately trying to catch up to the circumstances life had delivered upon him. “You are the dessert.”

Pound looked at the puzzling mare sideways. “Auntie, what are you—”

“And auntie…” she interrupted, tilting his chin up before practically breathing the words “...just can’t wait to taste you,” upon his lips before greedily stealing them with her own.

Clarity at last.

Pound’s eyes went wide with disbelief at the suddenness of his aunt’s actions. For a moment, a surge of questions rushed through his shocked, hormone-addled mind. Was this really happening to him? Was it a coincidence that the taste on Pinkie Pie’s lips reminded him vaguely of strawberry ice cream? Why were her lips so damnedly soft and addictive like marshmallows? And more importantly was that… was that her tongue sliding into his mouth?

The colt closed his eyes and gave a moan of content as the flavors and textures of Pinkie’s tongue slid across his own, gracing his taste buds in a way that no pastry had ever been able to. He could feel himself growing tense as Pinkie Pie allowed her hooves to glide across his tender neck and belly, arousing muffled giggles from the colt’s mouth as she savored him.

Needing a breather from the intense lip-lock, Pinkie Pie pulled off her bondage bound beau whom she’d left panting, bewildered and wanting for more, smiling as she licked his residual saliva from her lips. “Yummy! Anyone ever told you that you taste like cinnamon, Pound?”

For his part, Pound was still trying to figure out if any of this was real or if being crushed by the box earlier had inflicted a traumatic head injury that was now causing him to experience a wild, if desirable, fever dream; The sensation of soft hooves stroking his chest and the warm weight of his aunt’s rump rubbing against his hips suggested otherwise.

“What’s the matter? Auntie got your tongue?” Pinkie Pie asked, gently caressing his cheek. She leaned in towards his ear and whispered, “I thought this was how you always wanted me.”

“Well… I…”

“It’s too late to be shy, Cutie Cake,” she said, now trailing the outline of his allegedly cinnamon-flavored lips. “I see the way that you look at me in the kitchen and I know you moan my name when you… you know.” Pinkie Pie cocked a knowing eyebrow at Pound, who immediately understood what she was driving at.

“You… you know about that?” Pound asked, a sense of shame circulating through his flesh with all the efficiency of his life’s blood.

“Let’s just say, I’ve got ears all over Ponyville, and by ears…” She reached behind herself and produced a small plastic box with a microphone and several buttons, “...I mean tape-recorders.”

“...hat! Oh, Celestia, Auntie, your pussy’s so fucking tight! Just like that, oh yeah, keep going… harder… harder... harder, faster, fuck, fuck—ngh! Agh… hah… hah… oh that felt amazing...”

By the time his recorded self had come down from the high of his self-induced climax, Pound’s complexion had escalated from its normal cream coloring to an intense, burning scarlet. Pinkie Pie only seemed to find her nephew’s flustered expression to be cute if nothing else. “He he, if just fantasizing about me makes you moan like that, imagine what the real thing must feel like… but you don’t have to just imagine you kn—”

A rather loud crackling sound from the tape recorder interrupted the older mare mid-seduction, before playing another segment of the tape that neither party could have possibly expected. “...I dunno, Ms. Cheerilee, I think I might need a block of ‘special instruction’. I only made a 97% on my introspective view of the dormant G-Virus essay.”

“Tut, tut, tut, whatever are we going to do with you, Twilight? Your grades have just been slipping this semester.”

“Mmm… I think you might need to teach me some 'discipline', I’ve been a baaad student.”

“Don’t worry, my little pony, Madame Cheerilee knows how to deal with naughty fillies like you...”

*Snap-Crack!*

“Kyaaa! Cheerilee! Not so hard with the riding crop! And Snails, it’s not time for you to come out yet, so get back in the closet—”

Pinkie Pie exchanged a bemused glance with her nephew as she clicked the tape recorder off and tossed it to the side. “Gotta remember to stop recording everything on the same tape…” she huffed under her breath. “Now, where were we?” Pinkie asked, turning back to her helpless soon-to-be plaything. To her delight, she found that Pound’s penis had decided to join in the fun, gradually unsheathing itself as it grew longer and thicker.

“Oh my, what’s this, Pound?” Pinkie asked, running a hoof along the underside of the blushing colt’s slowly engorging member. “Did that recording get you a little excited?”

It had, though it didn’t exactly help that he’d been trying—in vain, quite frankly— to stave off his arousal since this whole scenario had begun to play itself out.

“Want Auntie to take care of it?” she asked, gently teasing the tip of his cock with her hoof.

He did.

“All you have to do is ask me to taste you like the delicious little cutie cake you are.”

Pound swallowed. He wasn’t going to lie to himself, he wanted this more than anything in the world and admittedly this whole situation could have very well been a page plucked right out of his fantasies of the older mare. Despite his nerves and the fact that this would be his first time being with a mare, Pound couldn’t simply couldn’t bring himself to refuse an opportunity like this, so it came as no surprise to the colt when his mouth, as if on autopilot, sputtered out the words, “Auntie, p-please, taste and savor me like the delicious little cutie-cake I am.”

“Good boy,” Pinkie Pie praised, leaning forward and rewarding her nephew’s obedient lips with a kiss. “Now, just relax and leave it all to your Auntie Pinkie Pie.”

Pound nodded nervously and heaved his held breath, trying to relax, but how could he? Afterall, he was about to experience—dare he to believe it— sex for the first time in his life, with the mare he’d fantasized about on countless occasions.

With bedroom eyes and a sultry grin, Pinkie Pie sat up, grabbed her inexperienced lover’s dick firmly and leaned forward, mouth opening slowly as she drew nearer. Pound shuddered with delight as he felt her moist, warm breath nipping his sensitive penile flesh. The colt pulled his restraints tight in anticipation as her lips drew dangerously close to him, his mind racing even faster than before as he tried to imagine and comprehend what mind-bogglingly wondrous sensations she would draw out of his virgin flesh.

Almost… just a little closer, and… and then…

“Oh, wait.” Pinkie Pie pulled away and sat up.

Huh? She’s stopping? But… but why?

“Silly, me.” Pinkie Pie playfully bopped herself in the head. “A cake’s not a cake without the ♪~frost-ing~♪,” she sang, securing a container of frosting from the cart. She popped off the lid and without a second thought dunked her hoof right into the thick of the icing, scooping out a hearty glob of the white confectionary goo. She presented the glob on her hoof to Pound with a catty grin and faster than the colt could react, began eagerly spreading it all over his dick.

Pound moaned as the older mare worked diligently and professionally to even and smooth out the frosting layer, making it conform perfectly to the shape of his penis. It felt like she was rubbing lotion all over his cock, only stickier and it wasn’t being absorbed, but oh Celestia, did the boy love the feel of his aunt’s hooves cradling and caressing his junk. When she finished sculpting—far too quickly in Pound’s opinion— she backed away, admiring her work. “Now that’s a proper dessert.” She licked her lips, readying herself to dig in, but something occurred to her upon meeting the lewd, flushed expression on her nephew’s face. “Hmm… have you eaten today, Cutie Cake?”

It hadn’t occurred to Pound until just now, but he was absolutely famished having worked the entire day without taking a single meal break. A faint gurgle from his belly said everything his mouth needn’t.

“Aww, that’s no good. Can’t have my favoritest colt in the whole wide world go an entire day with an empty tummy-wummy.” She rubbed his belly before continuing. “But don’t worry, Auntie’s got a special treat, just for you.” Pinkie Pie stood, turned around and lifted her tail, presenting herself to Pound whose eyes went wide at the sight of Pinkie Pie’s bare plot and hindquarters. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and seize the pink moon that often illuminated the skies of his nighttime fantasies, but the licorice that held his limbs still wouldn’t allow it.

He watched as she scooped up another dollop of white icing onto her hoof before bringing it between her legs. Something between a giggle and squeak escaped Pinkie Pie’s mouth as she brought the vanilla cream to her snatch and began to rub it on herself. She’d started out just fine at first, working to even out the icing on her mound despite not being able to see what she was doing, but Pound noticed that after a certain point, she’d begun focusing all of her strokes on single spot and those little squeaks had grown in volume, becoming every manner of lewd panting and mewling that Pound could possibly imagine the mare producing.

That was when it hit him: she’d finished ‘decorating’ herself a while ago, now she was just pleasuring herself, her nephew all but forgotten—or perhaps at the very forefront of her mind, edging her on. Either way, Pound didn’t care. He was too busy being mesmerised by the display before him. It was like viewing high art, watching his aunt masturbate. The expertly practiced hoof strokes on her pallete, beads of sweat forming on and rolling down her quivering thighs until the stockings absorbed them, glimpses of her lewd bushing face, and a constant stream of utterances to the effect of “I’m doing something like this, and he’s watching me so intently…”.

She was truly the portrait of magnificence in the moments that led her to a self-induced climax, which rendered her a huffing, heaving mess collapsed on Pound’s belly. “O-Oops, looks like I got a little carried away,” she panted, turning to look over her shoulder. “You, *huff*, ready for your treat? Open wide...” Pinkie Pie backed her rump up into Pound’s face, smothering the colt’s muzzle with her plot. “Don’t be shy, Cutie Cake.” She made it a point to wiggle her rotund rump against his snout before continuing. “Eat up, auntie made it special just for you.”

Pound nervously savored the scene before himself. His aunt’s pussy was quite a thing to behold, vastly more beautiful in person than he’d ever imagined it being in any of his previous spank sessions. Pound took a whiff of her scent, a sugary sweet musk that was as lewd as it was enticing; he could feel his mouth beginning to water as he indulged on her aroma.

He had to taste her.

Pound let his tongue loose in an experimental lick along Pinkie’s slit, earning another giggle-squeak from his aunt as he tasted her vanilla scented snatch. He went in again, deeper this time, his tongue penetrating her frosted folds, treating his tastebuds to something far slicker tangier than the frosting, but he loved it just the same. Pound went at it aggressively now, his tongue seeking out and sapping the flavor of his aunt’s insides while his lips kissed ravenously at her labia, pulling in the frosting to compliment her love nectars.

Pinkie Pie smiled as Pound feasted on her sex. The colt was really going to town on her, but that was to be expected considering how long he’d been dreaming of this very moment. Still, she was doing this for him afterall, she wouldn’t have felt right allowing Pound to do all the work. A glance down at the colt’s own throbbing, confection coated cock reminded her of her own appetites of the flesh. “Itadakimasu*.” Grabbing her nephew behind the thighs, she leaned down and engulfed his entire length in one smooth motion, effortlessly taking him into her throat without gagging— a skill acquired after many years and many partners worth of practice. Her opening move—a preview of things to come— complete, she pulled back and began working her tongue around Pound’s head and shaft with expert proficiency, dissolving and delighting upon the layer of frosting that coated his dick.

She could feel Pound’s reaction almost immediately, for in addition to his penis’ increased and erratic twitching in her mouth, his own assault on her pussy had lessened in tenacity. She found his body’s honesty to be rather adorable and continued working his dick, dwelling on the tip for a spell and savoring whatever residual vanilla and colt-cock flavor that remained, before swirling her tongue around his shaft using her grip on his thighs to keep him from bucking up into her mouth. Admittedly, she took a selfish moment here and there to focus on riding Pound’s face with her pussy.

The two worked in conjunction to bring eachother to the heights of debauchery. Pound having finally figured out what spots got the biggest reactions out of his aunt, while Pinkie Pie ate his cock like a hardshell candy with a creamy colt filling inside. She’d soon find that her nephew had no problem at all sharing the aforementioned filling. Pinkie Pie decided to switch gears and decided to take the whole thing into her mouth, an act that Pound’s nervous system simply hadn’t prepared him for. His aunt’s lips greedily urging him deeper as she released his legs—a mistake on her part— and proceeded to throatfuck her seemingy helpless nephew.

With nothing to hold him back anymore, Pound couldn’t help himself. He bucked his hips into his aunt’s mouth in time with the bobbing of her head, and it felt wonderful. The rush of her warm breath and saliva, the softness of her cheeks and tongue around his girth, and the rapidness of it all coming together into some great sensation that wasn’t quite a tickle but was somehow painful without hurting. He just couldn’t take it anymore and erupted into Pinkie Pie’s mouth, a sense of relief rapidly replacing the wonderfully intense tenseness that was ejaculation.

The stream of ejaculate took Pinkie Pie by surprise, making her gag as it blasted the back of her throat, but a true soldier through and through, she managed to smile on and swallow it down spurt after spurt. Upon swallowing the last of his load, Pinkie Pie sat up and wiped her mouth of any residual semen. “Mmm, salty,” she remarked, turning to catch a glance at Pound.

Pinkie smiled at her nephew’s stupidly blissful expression and was prepared when something warm, thick and familiar poked her in the belly. Curious, she looked down only to find herself face to face with Pound’s surprisingly still stone-sturdy schlong. “Oh, wow, it’s still hard…” she marveled, poking the rigid thing with a hoof. A devious smile crossed her lips. “So, did you enjoy auntie’s treat, Cutie Cake?”

“Uh-huh...” Pound replied dazily, spent from his passing climax.

“That’s good, but I hope you didn’t fill up on foreplay, Cutie Cake…” Pinkie Pie stood up and gripped Pound’s cock firmly, standing it upright.

“Huh?” Pound lazily grunted in response to his aunt’s actions.

“...because auntie’s getting ready to serve up the main course.” She hovered her moist pussy lips over the rigid rod and started slowly lowering herself upon it.

“W-Wait, Auntie, I just came, it’s still sensitive!”

“Don’t worry, that just means that it’ll feel twice as good while we’re doing it, now—ngh— get r-ready, it’s going in!”

It was all that Pound could do to bite his lip and surrender to the welcoming kiss of his aunt’s insides on his tip. She hadn’t even taken him in a single inch yet, but the difference between her mouth and pussy was already like night and day; tighter, hotter and much wetter—though he could proudly attribute that factor to his earlier acts of cunnilingus.

Pinkie Pie leaned forward and gripped at her cookie themed bed-sheets, using them as leverage to ease herself down. “Oooh… such a thick thing you’ve got here, Pound. I wonder if I’ll be able to fit the whole thing…” Pound winced as his aunt took his first inch with a light huff, her soft, perfect insides squeezing and suckling on his head as though it were a lollipop. He could hear his aunt giggle as she slid another inch into herself, slowly and deliberately, looking over shoulder to admire the effeminate expressions on her lover’s face; it only made her want to tease him harder. She wiggled her rump, allowing her natural lubricants to freely cascade down his shaft, making her descent easier and more bearable by far.

She loved the feeling of his big cock filling up her tight pussy and wasn’t afraid to be vocal about the affair, uttering the occasional obscenity between moans. Both breathed a sigh of relief as Pinkie Pie’s descent finally came to a halt, having taken in as much cock as she could. Rubbing her thoroughly stuffed belly, she could feel Pound twitching uncontrollably inside of her, his doubly sensitive penis trying to find a way to cope with this newfound stimulation.

“How’s the view back there, Cutie Cake?” she asked.

Pound unclenched his eyes and gazed upon his aunt’s marvelously thick backside, his attention squarely on the sexual union of his cock parting and penetrating his aunt’s plump pussy lips; it almost looked like her lower mouth was trying to devour him in the best possible way. “It’s wonderful, auntie,” he said. “So fucking wonderful.”

Pinkie Pie beamed warmly. “Well, hold on to your horse shoes, it’s about to get a whole lot better.” Slowly, she rose her hips at a controlled rate, savoring the way Pound’s length scraped along her pulsing insides, before urging herself back down just as slowly. Again and again she rose and fell in this torturously slow paced ebb-and-flow that demanded all of her self-control to maintain, but it was worth it to hear her beloved Pound’s labored breaths and pleasured moans. She closed her eyes to keep her focus, trying to imagine the depraved expressions he must’ve been wearing as his whimpers graced her ears.

“Oh, fuck, auntie, it feels too good,” he whined, encouraging Pinkie Pie to pick up the pace slightly in her efforts to rock his world. She put a little wiggle in her hips as she rode, helping Pound to scrape deeper inside of her. Every pass, she would go a little faster, building up a light sweat, taking care to control her breathing and movements so as to keep a constant meaty smack resonating between her ass and his waist. The little huffs and puffs she’d been vocalizing up until now, became a stream of erotic purrs and praises to Luna but it simply wasn’t enough; she needed more than this to get off.

With remarkable swiftness, Pinkie Pie stood, turned around, and remounted Pound, reverse missionary this time so that she could better admire him as she proceeded to fuck his brains out. Pound gazed into his aunt’s half lidded eyes as she rode his dick like a wave on the ocean, the sight of the older mare’s face caught somewhere betwixt debauched and focused was arguably the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his entire life and he’d sat and marathon-wanked his way through the entire nine hours of the Fetish Fillies: Naughty Nightshift Nurses video box set; real mares truly did it better.

Pinkie Pie planted her hooves on the colt’s chest, using him for balance as she worked his shaft, getting lost in the pleasures of her own body. She leaned forward and took his lips with a rather voracious kiss, expertly maneuvering her tongue into his mouth without breaking the rhythm of her humping.

Much as he loved Pinkie’s selfish ravagement of his body, it simply wasn’t enough to satisfy Pound; he needed more of her. He needed to hold and grope her voluptuous curves, to stroke those stockings now damp with her sweat, to have some semblance of control in this affair, but that damned licorice rope…

Snap!

Through sheer force of will, Pound managed to pull his restraints apart, the candied ropes dangling helplessly along their respective bedposts. Pound didn’t waste a moment of his newfound freedom as he seized his aunt around her waist and back, simultaneously taking her by surprise and off balance as he took control. From his bottom position he rapidly bucked into her with a hound-like fervor, his focus squarely on making up for lost indulgence.

“♥~Ahn~♥Wh-Where’d this come from, ♥~ooh~♥Cu-Cutie Cake?” Pinkie Pie cooed as Pound seized her ass and plunged his cock deep inside her. Pound was far too driven in his hedonistic pursuits to give anything in the vein of a response, so he continued pounding away, feasting his ears on the vocal variety of his aunt’s erotic whines, which only seemed to be growing higher in pitch with each thrust. “J-Just an insatiable little thing aren’t you? Mmmf! K-Keep this up and you’re gonna make me… you’ll… ngh... ♥~Kyya~♥!”

Pound could feel his aunt tense up and her pussy clamp down even tighter around him as she came, drizzling her love juices all over his cock and balls before collapsing and convulsing on top of her underage lover, giggling and mewling incoherent praises to the ecstasy flowing through her body. A sense of accomplishment fell over the colt as he realized that he’d just brought his aunt to climax, her warm, soft and shuddering form collapsed on top of him more than enough reward for his efforts. Though despite how much he loved this he still wasn’t satisfied; he needed to get off too.

“Waah!” Pinkie Pie cried as her nephew flipped her over and mounted her missionary style. “Still full of energy, huh, Cutie Cake?” she asked as Pound lined his tip up with the entrance of her still spasming slit.

“What can I say, auntie? I’ve got a sweet tooth and the only thing that can satisfy it is a nice slice of ‘Pinkie Pie’.”

Pinkie rolled her eyes, but couldn’t fight the grin creeping onto her lips. “Pfft, come on, that pun was totally half-baked.”

“Who cares? It’s my turn to do the tasting anyway.” With that, he pushed in, his aunt’s insides welcoming him back as they wrapped and coiled around his length. She’d loosened up enough that his first thrust went all the way to the hilt, but he didn’t let up. He eagerly rained a series of enthusiastic thrust deep into her, clenching his jaw to deal with the rush of sensations flowing through his member as it rubbed against her internal walls. He’d been able to feel his climax building up within him , but from this position he could feel it with so much more clarity, a deep pressure, so close, just begging for release.

“♥~Mmmf~♥ W-what’s with that face, Cutie Cake?”

“I’m so close,” Pound panted between thrusts. “Oh, Luna, I don’t think I can hold it back much longer!”

Pinkie Pie grabbed her nephew by the cheek, looking him in the eyes as she said, “Go ahead and do it, Cutie Cake.”

“In...inside?”

“Mmmhmm.” Pinkie nodded, locking her legs around Pound’s waist, making it official that it was okay for him to make her his mare.

“Ngh... get ready, auntie… here comes the cream filling*!” With a thunderous grunt, Pound came, emptying a torrent of his white-hot semen deep within Pinkie Pie’s thirsty pussy, and it felt incredible, moreso—by leaps and bounds— than her mouth. Spurt after spurt of his ejaculate erupted forth, coating her walls and stuffing her womb with his seed. With serotonin and exhaustion rapidly replacing the adrenaline rush, Pound managed a very spent “Oh… fuck…” before collapsing on top of his aunt, a dopey, triumphant grin painted on his lips. As his softening dick fell out of Pinkie’s sex, she could feel the warm trickle of excess cum streaming down her rump.

“Wow, you really came a lot, Cutie Cake.”

“S...sorry, auntie,” Pound lazily apologized, more focused on nuzzling into her wonderously soft bosom, indulging himself on the intoxicating scent of her sweat slickened coat as though every whiff he’d te of her would be his last.

“It’s all right.” PInkie Pie stroked her spent lover’s mane before asking. “Was it everything you dreamed it would be?”

“Mmhmm.” Pound sleepily replied as his eyelids grew heavy

“Good.” Pinkie Pie leaned forward and planted an affectionate kiss on her lightly dozing sweetheart’s forehead before continuing. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself…” she paused to trace the curvatures of his lightly dozing face, “...because it’s time to wake up.”

“Huh?”

“I said: it’s time to wake up, Pound.”

Curious and confused at his aunt’s words, Pound opened his eyes and was taken aback to find himself back in the familiar mess of his own room, more specifically on his bed, a small puddle of drool accumulated where his head had been rested. Aside from Gummy tumbling down a laundry pile into a stack of books, nothing seemed out of place which was as much of a relief as it was a thorough disappointment.

“Just a dream, huh?” He chuckled sardonically at himself. He hated dreams like that. The kind that were so realistically wonderful and vivid that they could only be dreams. But it felt so real… was that really just a dream?

With a sigh, Pound turned over in his bed and nuzzled up to the pony-sized pink body pillow laying there. It was so soft, warm and comforting that he practically melted into its sweet scented embrace, though for the life of him, he just couldn’t remember having ever snuggled up to it before this moment. Where this wonderful thing even came from, he couldn’t recall, but it felt so familiar and that giggling—

Wait. Giggling?

Pound glanced up and found himself gazing into the beaming face of his aunt. “Enjoy your nap, Cutie Cake?” she asked.

The gears of the colt’s mind grinded to a screeching halt. “But… but… wait… you… I mean I—”

“—just need to relax. You took a nasty blow to the noggin trying to catch me earlier, y’know. I mean, sure, I guess it was my fault for y’know, falling on you from your ceiling wearing that giant present outfit, but details-schmetails, right?”

Wait, that wasn’t a dream? he thought.

“Nope,” Pinkie replied, causing the colt to wonder briefly if she’d read his mind in that instant. “You were wide awake until I put that shiner on your cute little face,” she said as she lightly tapped the colt on the swollen bump on his forehead, causing him to wince. “But don’t you worry about a thing, auntie’s going to take real good care of you, Cutie Cake.”

“Ah, that’s all right, auntie,” Pound said as he started to sit up. “I’ll be fine, it’s just a little bump, afterall—”

“Oh, no, no, no.” Pinkie Pie urged him back down to a lie. “It’s so bad that I’d say it calls for lots of bedrest and…” Pinkie Pie whipped a sheet up from the bed, effectively obscuring herself from Pound’s view. When the bedding settled, Pound found himself both shocked and privileged to find his aunt adorned in a rather and purposely ill-sized nurse’s outfit, complete with thigh high stockings and high-heels. “...intensive physical therapy with nurse Pinkie Pie,” she finished, trailing a hoof down her ‘patient’s’ chest and belly. “Now is the patient ready for treatment?”

Like you wouldn’t believe…

The End.

Shorter than the rest but hopefully just as sweet; the recipe still called for two parts love and one part sleep deprivation. And yet if you’re a connoisseur with more demanding tastes, Chef Antagonist humbly presents a menu full of carnal debauchery to hopefully sate your palate. Bon Appétit, mon ami.

A. Twincest is wincest.

B.There’s always room for one more (Ménage à trois)

C.True Passion Lies At The Bottom of a Shot Glass

*Itadakimasu- The writer is such an anime geek that he threw this one in here. The word is Japanese. It means: ‘I humbly receive’, and is usually said before a meal.
*Creamfilling-When Antagonist opened the vault, all the fucks his master had left to him were gone. Reaching into his pocket, he found one singular fuck, his only fuck in the world if you would, but he just wasn’t willing to give it up. He just couldn’t give that last fuck.

Author's Note

Inspired by these truly profound words, spoken by one of the grandest men to ever grace the small screen.