The door is barely open before I hear her.
Running. The floor yells back at her heavy footsteps in protest, but she ignores it.
There’s a flash of pink, then breathlessness.
Her arms wrapped around me.
Hug.
Squeezing. Hard to breathe.
“You’re home!” she says. Her voice is like a sugary explosion of enthusiasm, and it almost makes up for the emptiness of my lungs. A bit of her hair gets under my nose, and the frizziness tickles and makes me want to sneeze.
I return the hug as best I’m able with my limbs feeling like jelly at my sides. I just manage to meet my hands around her back. I lock my fingers with each to keep them there as she hugs me.
It’s like hugging a warm, semi-solid cloud. Soft and puffy and squishy; her body molds to fit mine like a glove, not too much, but enough that when our stomachs meet I can feel hers give and I manage to squeeze extra hard and she giggles into my ear.
Which she does. She giggles really loud, and I smile, and unlink my hands as she finally lets me go.
“I’ve been waiting for you aaaaaallll day!” she says. Her smile is like stars caught in her mouth, and it’s contagious. I smile back.
“Come on! I made you a treat.”
I let her take me by the hand and drag me inside. I manage to shut the door before she yanks me down the hallway, and I follow like I’m caught in her orbit, kicking my shoes off into the hallway and following her to the sweet scent wafting from the kitchen. She pulls me through the doorway with an extra bright smile, then finally lets go of my hand. She puts her hands on her hips—her wide, round hips—and turns to me with a grin.
“I made cupcakes!” she says. Her voice rises like an excited kid’s, and its an earnest enough enthusiasm to make my heart tingle a bit. I try to look past her to see the table of cupcakes she’s laid out, but her apron-covered waist blocks them. She stands proudly for a few seconds before she notices me craning my head, and then she giggles and steps away from the table.
“Oops,” she says. “Sorry.”
The spread of bake goods she’s spent the day preparing are nothing if not fanciful. Every one is decorated in a different combination of icing and sprinkles—some with tiny candy hearts, others with the icing made into hearts, and some just random assemblages of shapes and pretty colours. They look cute, and delicious.
Just like her.
I slide across the kitchen floor in my socks and stop before I reach the table. I take an unexpected turn away from the cupcakes, and I can see a twinkle of surprise in her eyes along with an extra warmth in her smile as I put one arm around her waist and pull her closer. She lets me pull her forward, and our stomachs meet again, and hers wobbles a little bit when we touch. I let my other hand rest on her hips, just below the bulge of pudge poking out underneath her apron.
She giggles when my fingers tickle her by mistake. Instead of removing my hand, I grin and move it further up, snaking over the tight waistband of her jeans and underneath her apron and shirt until I feel skin, and she coos at me, not caring where I’m touching, just that I’m touching at all.
She pouts at me as I take a bit of her tummy and cup my hand around it, jostling my palm slightly.
“Stop playing with my chub,” she says with an exaggerated frown. I still my hand for a moment and look up at her, and pull her closer with my other arm. Her face softens instantly, and she grins at me with an extra spark in her eyes. Without either of us say anything, I move my hand further up underneath her shirt.
She’s not wearing a bra.
“Oooh... don’t.” She pushes ineffectually at my hand with her own, swatting it with a half-hearted pat as I let my palm rest against her breast. There’s more than I can hold, so I let my hand sink into the mass of malleable skin, pressing down hard and feeling her body move towards me as she crosses her legs and shivers a little. I feel her nipple underneath my palm as I squeeze, and she bites her lip and closes her eyes for a moment. She opens them with a half-hearted disapproving glare, and I grin back at her with my hand still on her tit.
“You’re supposed be pawing at the cupcakes first, silly,” she says, her face screwed up in a mock admonishment.
Still smiling, I withdraw my hand and wrap it around her waist, pulling her closer and feeling her body press up against mine. My stomach against hers. My jeans against hers.
Her eyes soften as she feels my hardness pressing against her.
“I want the main course before I have dessert,” I say.
I lean close. Her lips purse. We kiss.
The way she melts into me when our mouths touch is intoxicating. She moans, just from a kiss, and her hands find their way onto my hips and pull me closer, and claw at my stomach through my t-shirt, and I let my hand rest on the back of her neck and do the same, arching my fingers into the softness of her skin. She moans even louder, and opens her mouth wider, and her tongue probes forward to find mine, and our tongues dance in between us, sharing tender touches and swirling around in our mouths as our lips press together. I push my hips forward again, she meets with a press of her own, and I can feel the softness of her tummy squish up against me.
I break the kiss, and it takes a moment for her eyes to open. Her breathing is slightly heavier as I pull away, licking my lips and tasting the faintest touch of sugar.
“C’mon,” I say. It’s my turn to take her hand and pull her forward.
But she doesn’t budge. She stays firmly planted, and she has a half-smile when I turn back to find what’s keeping her.
“Uh-uh,” she says. I turn down a corner of my mouth at her.
“I wanna do it here,” she says. My frown disappears.
I lunge in for another kiss before she can react, and I let my lips rest on hers for just a moment before I pull away and aim toward her neck.
“Ohhh...”
She makes an even louder moan when I find that sensitive spot just underneath her chin, and the softness of her skin welcomes my mouth everywhere, and I make a trail of feather-light kisses down until I reach her shoulder, which is bare. Where I bite down, hard.
“Ohhhh, mmmm...”
She practically melts. I can feel her knees quiver and urge her legs to give out, and she clings to me for support, throwing her arms around me and digging her fingers in again, holding onto my back like she’s a cat I’m pulling from the curtains. I bite again and leave my mouth where it meets her skin. I start to suck, and she groans, high-pitched and desperate into my ear. I can feel the stain I’m leaving in my boxers growing by the second.
When I pull away, there’s a horribly perfect adolescent looking purple mark on her skin. She glares and swats me on the chest.
“You know I bruise easy,” she says. I grin at her, and lean forward for a kiss. She meets me with untempered enthusiasm, and wraps her arms around my neck as she moans into my mouth. We kiss for another few seconds before we separate again.
I leave her to remove her shirt as I take mine off. But I do mine faster so I can watch.
She forgets to untie the apron.
The way her boobs cling to the fabric as she pulls it up, and then stay aloft, held there, waiting to fall as she removes the final inches, is agony and ecstasy blurred together. I bite my lip as she struggles to get the last little bit over her head.
But it comes finally, and she springs free, and I groan, openly and unashamed.
God, her tits. So perfect.
As much as I could gush about the rest of her, her tits are my biggest weakness. Everything about them is amazing. The size—more than two handfuls, big enough to bury my face in and use them like pillows—the feeling—soft and squishy and squeezable and delicate tender skin that feels good no matter where it is—the look—like two perfectly shaped circles held tight on her chest—I can feel my mouth drooling for want of a suck on her nipple, and I can feel myself drooling somewhere else because I want to get my hands on them and squeeze them and suck them and fuck them and God, they’re just the best fucking thing.
Pinkie Pie grins shamelessly at me as she lets her shirt drop to the ground. She bounces up and down once for good measure, and her tits bounce with her, bobbing against each other like perfect, pendulous globes. I groan again, and she grins even wider.
“You’re such a perv,” she says. I nod.
“I can’t help it,” I say. “Your tits are too amazing.”
“No they’re not,” she says. Her cheeks flush suddenly, and she holds an arm up over her bosom, shielding her nipples with her wide forearm.
It has the opposite effect.
“Fuck,” I say. “You look so sexy like that.”
She blushes even brighter.
“You really think so?” she asks. She turns herself to the side a little bit. Her apron is resting against her bare stomach, so I can’t see her belly button—just pink, pudgy softness covered by white and flowers.
“God, yes. Get the rest of your clothes off so I can fuck you.”
Pinkie looks embarrassed at my brazen profanity, but she does just that. She fumbles for a second with the button on her jeans, but the zipper comes easily, and the zippered section fans forward as she undoes it, evidencing the tightness it endured while it was sealed. Pinkie hooks her thumbs in the waistband of her pants and slides them down like she’s practiced, bending in just the right way—so I know that, if I was behind her, I’d have to tackle her to the ground in an instant, just from the sight of her big round butt staring me in the face.
I remember, after a second, that my jeans need removing too. So I undo them, and throw them awkwardly to the floor after a few seconds of struggling to get my socks off as well.
Pinkie giggles at me. My erection is standing out from my body like a flagpole, hard and wet at the tip.
Her giggles are sexy too.
“So, just like this then?” I ask with my hands on my hips, at a loss for anywhere else to put them. Pinkie nods.
“Just lemme lie down,” she says. She bend at the knees and braces herself with a hand on the floor before she sits down completely. The minute her naked butt touches the kitchen tile, her mouth opens and she lets out an adorable ‘eeep’. She looks up at me with a hint of blush still in her cheeks.
“It’s cold,” she says with an argumentative tinge in her voice. I nod.
After a few seconds of adjustment, she’s on her back properly, holding herself half-upright with her hands behind her back. She realizes suddenly she’s still wearing the apron, and reaches behind her back to untie it. She fiddles with the knot for a minute before it comes loose, and she tosses it to the side next to my jeans.
It lets me see her naked stomach for the first time since I arrived home, and I can feel a tingle run through my erection as I stare at her unabashedly.
She’s so sexy, it makes me wonder how I ever manage to last more than a minute when I’m with her.
I clamber toward her like an animal, and she bites her lip as she eyes my cock, which bobs obscenely as I near her spot on the floor. I take a position on my knees almost immediately, and she smiles at me as I scootch forward, my dick aimed in front of me like a missile searching for it’s target. She spreads her legs for me, and I feel like I’m already ready to burst.
Her pussy is a sight to behold. It’s the perfect treasure beneath the rolls of her pudge, nestled between her thighs. Her lips are puffy, which I love, and she’s already wet—I can see it in the glisten of her folds, and the way her hips move subtly as she squirms, already in anticipation of my dick sliding inside her.
I lean forward and let the head of my cock rest against her body. Against her stomach, aimed too high.
God, her skin is soft.
I move my hands away from her shoulders and onto her waist, then up and to her stomach, running my fingers lightly over the soft folds of her skin.
“Mmm...” she makes a tiny murmur and squirms at my touch, but doesn’t say anything further. I let my hands dance along her stomach and just underneath her breasts. Every Time one of my fingers touches the soft, hot part of her chest right underneath one of her giant tits, she moans softly under her breath and tries to push her body forward into my touch.
I move my hands down and take a handful of her pudge instead.
She squirms with the hint of a moan in her voice.
“Don’t,” she says. I ignore her, and paw at her stomach.
“Quit playing with my chub,” she says again. The way she says it makes me never want to stop.
But I spare her continued prodding. I move one of my hands up to her breasts and take the right one into my palm. She coos gently as I begin kneading the sensitive, supple flesh, even though the feeling of her tit in my hand makes me want to press forward as hard as I can.
I can’t wait. I can’t look at her body squirming around naked on the kitchen tile like this and not want to fuck her brains out.
I remove my hand from her breast and hold my cock steady as I pull back, using my hand to guide myself in. I rub my head over her labia a few times, and she moans and matches the movement of my member with a shaking of her hips. I move the tip up and over her clit, and she shudders and scrapes her fingernails against the kitchen tile. Her breasts jiggle when she moves, and I can only manage a few more pokes against her button before I slide myself down and line up against her hole. She’s soaking wet.
“Fuck,” I say. She moans back at me.
I push forward.
The feeling of wet and hot is indescribable. To come close is to say a tunnel of eager, supple skin, doused in just the right amount of moisture, clinging to my cock and pulling me inside as I slide forward. I rest when I’m inside fully, which takes no effort, considering I can feel her wetness coating every inch of my shaft as I move. When I’m all the way in, I stop, and rest there, keeping my weight on my arms as I hold myself. Inside her.
She bucks her hips up at me and moans. Her eyes are closed, and she’s biting her lip like she’s delirious.
I could stay like this if I wanted to. The feeling of her insides bumping up against my head and shaft sends shudders along my spine and makes my balls ache for release, even though I’ve only been inside her for a minute. The way she groans and tilts her head back and her puffy pink hair frames her head and her big squeezable tits are out in the open for me to stare at for as long as I want—
Fuck.
She swivels her hips like a pornstar as she grinds onto my cock. In the only sensible course of action, I pull myself back until just the head of my cock is inside her. She gasps as I nudge forward, but pull back after just an inch.
“Don’t,” she says through another gasp. She raises her hand and reaches for me with her fingers, but I’m too far away for her to grab. I push forward another inch, then pull back. She moans.
“Please,” she says. Her voice is shakey, insistent. She grabs my arm with her hand, realizing it’s the only part of me she can reach. She curls her fingers and pressing into my skin with her fingertips.
I slide forward again. She clenches harder. I pull back. Her pussy tugs at me as I go, working her muscles to try to keep me inside.
“Ohhhh,” she moans, her eyes open only so she can beg to me with them. “Please,” she says. “I need you...”
I want to keep teasing, but the way her lips feel across my head as I pull out for the fourth time is too much. If I keep this up, I won’t last at all, and I already feel close.
I bury myself with one thrust, and Pinkie moans long and loud as I do. I can feel her spasm around me, not cumming, but close to, and her whole back arches as she presses herself up. I can feel her stomach against mine again, bare skin against bare skin, and I cup some of her tummy in my hand as I pull back and push in again. Faster this time, not waiting. I start fucking her properly.
“Mhmm, mhmmm...” she moans each time I slide inside, and raises her pussy to meet my pounding, grinding her clit against my pelvis as best she can before I pull out again, and then once more, each time. Every thrust makes a crude squelching sound from how wet she is, and our stomachs slap together loudly to create a sort of refrain, the noises ringing out each time I thrust. She bites her lip harder and holds a hand to her mouth to try to muffle her moans, but it doesn’t work. If anything, it makes her sound louder.
I move my hand from her tummy to her chest, and grab as much of her breast as I can. She moans, high and soft into her hand, and presses herself up extra hard on my next thrust. I squeeze her breast, then move my hand and put my fingers around her nipple. I pinch, and she squeals, and I can feel an extra spasm of her pussy around my dick as I tweak her sensitive protrusion. I move my left hand to her other tit and grab it extra hard, my hand making a slap sound as flesh meets flesh. Pinkie drones an ‘mmmmm’ in her close mouth behind her hand.
I keep thrusting with one hand on each tit. I alternate between tweaking her swollen nipples and pressing my palms down hard into her breasts, the way I know she likes. I try to ignore the sensation of her tummy rubbing up against me each time I bury myself, but it’s impossible. I want to just hold myself there and slide up and down and feel her skin against my skin like we’re melting into each other—but her moaning and hip shakes keep me going, and so does the tingle in my balls that says I’m not going to last much longer.
I’ve got to make sure I don’t finish before she does—but there’s a trick to that.
Her thighs are pressed against my sides, and she almost manages to wrap them around my waist as I lean forward. I pull my right hand away from her breast and slide it over her stomach, and she moans in spite of herself, ignoring her previous warnings for me to leave her chub alone.
Her eyes open for the first time in minutes as my hand snakes below her pudgy tummy and above her slit.
“Uh-uh,” she says.
I rub my thumb in a circle over her clit.
“Nonono,” she says. Her pussy betrays her protest—it clenches extra tight around my shaft, and I can feel the insides of her walls pushing up against the head of my cock. I press down hard with my thumb and move in a slow arc from left to right.
“Oh, don’t, don’t, not fair, not fair...”
I buck my hips forward a bit, not pulling back, but grinding myself up inside her. She moans so loud it’s a wonder there isn’t a knocking on the wall.
“Ohhh,” she says. I can feel the words on her tongue. I can feel the extra hard pressing of her hips upwards into my touch, into my cock, so close, and her eyes are closed, and her mouth is open, and she’s saying the words without any sound.
“Go on,” I say.
“I’m...” she says. “Cum—”
I lean forward and kiss her before she can finish, and she cums. God does she cum. She moans into my mouth like she’s dying, a long anguished scream of pure pleasure. She smooshes her lips into mine like she’s gasping for breath and can only take it from me, and I meet her as best as I can, still working my thumb over her clit, now pulling back and thrusting forward with a proper motion, or at least as much of one as I can manage with her legs locked around me. I can feel the extra tightness of her pussy as it shudders around my dick.
I groan. My balls feel tight.
But I hold out. I slow my thrusting as she comes down. Her legs finally unclench, and her hand moves away from my arm, where her fingernails have left marks.
“Gosh,” she says, breathing the word out with a shiver. I remove my hand from her clit and give a tiny squeeze to the inside of her thighs before placing my hand on the floor again. She looks up at me, and I can tell by her exhausted looking smile she can see how close I am.
“Where do you wanna finish?” she says. She gives a sudden squeeze with her pussy, flexing her muscles inside, and I gasp in spite of myself as her walls tighten around my dick. She winks at me and giggles.
“You know where,” I say. She nods.
I pull myself out of her with my body groaning at me in reluctance, but my dick twitches excitedly as I lift myself up over Pinkie’s belly and let myself rest just over her chest, below her boobs. I keep my weight on my knees—there’s not much room between my lower-half and Pinkie’s stomach, as far as it sticks out.
She smiles at me between her breasts as she pulls them apart, and I let my cock rest between them. She pushes them together, and that’s almost it. I groan loudly, and she gives me a sultry smirk.
Her tits are like two soft, just friction-y enough spheres, like gentle hands with no fingers caressing my dick. She keeps them held together as I push myself forward, and the tip of my cock prods at the bottom of her chin. She smiles at me and tilts her head down, and gives a little lick to my tip, which is wet with precum.
I grit my teeth as I slide back, and her tits keep a hold on my shaft like they’re trying to squeeze my load out of me before I even get started.
“Is that good?” she asks with a too-innocent lift of her voice. She knows damn well it is.
“Yesss,” I groan through my clenched teeth. Pinkie smiles even brighter.
“You’re not gonna cum already are you?”
I feel my balls twitch. Just hearing her say that word with her chipper, playful sounding voice is so Goddamn sexy.
“Maybe,” I say, and push myself up into her tits. She giggles and licks the head of my cock again, and I groan in response.
“You gonna make my boobs all sticky?” she asks, enunciating every syllable with an extra-child-like impishness.
“Fuck.” It’s all I can manage to say. I’m right there, just hovering on the edge, but I don’t want to cum yet because that will mean pulling out from between her amazing tits.
“Or,” she says, sticking her tongue out for a second with a giddy shimmer in her eyes, “do you wanna aim lower and cum on my tummy?”
God. That’s it.
I manage to nod as I give one final thrust forward, then pull myself off her chest immediately as I move lower down her body. My hand flies to my cock, but I don’t need to touch it, because I could cum just from looking at her tits. I do anyway—I jerk myself quickly, and feel the ache in my balls intensify for a minute before it releases, and I spray a huge shot of cum onto her stomach, all the way up until it ends between her tits. A little bit hits her in the chin, and her eyes go wide as she watches.
The second and third spurts are less volatile, and they both land squarely on her squishy stomach, which jiggles a little bit as she squirms from side to side, catching the ropes of my jizz with the soft, pliable folds of her tummy. She sticks her tongue out between her teeth and makes a contended sounding ‘mmm’ as she watches me cum. My legs shake as I finish jerking, milking the last drop of cum out and letting it land in her belly button.
I stay kneeling for a few seconds, taking deep breaths as I try to reconcile how hard my body is shivering from the aftermath of my orgasm. The sight of her lying there, naked and smiling and covered in my cum, makes me feel a tingle that wants to force me to go for a second round.
But she beams warmly at me, and reaches both her hands up and grabs in the air with her fingers, and I pull myself off her and fall to her side, letting my arm rest across her chest. A bit of my first shot gets on my forearm, but I ignore it, and pull her close, and she sighs and snuggles her head into my shoulder. She closes her eyes and breathes out slowly, and her breath feels warm against my skin. I can feel her chest rise and fall under my arm, and the subtle way other parts of her wiggle ever so slightly as she breathes.
I could fall asleep right here, just like this, and never need to wake up, because where I am is perfect.
But, there are still cupcakes waiting.
Maybe we can lie here just a little longer. Really, there’s no hurry.
