You fix your collar after giving it a few tugs, trying to vent your shirt some. The heat outside was oppressive this summer. Humidity unprecedented seemed an insult from the Ponyville weather team. You give the air rising from your high thread count button down a sniff, and it passes. Yet the temptation to sneak off and reapply deodorant is there. You check your expensive wristwatch and decide against it.

The doors to the mayor’s waiting room are simple, just like the rest of the rustic villa. You enter, finding a landmine, no, more of a tigress laying in wait, whether she knew it or not.

Rarity’s long hair is perfectly styled, as usual, and her sport coat and long skirt easily put your tailored, pricey blazer to shame. You doff the blue thing, standing in just vest and tie, both matching your dark shoes and hair.

The world’s most perfect woman doesn’t look up from her light reading, a novel by the looks. You sit opposite and rest your foot on your knee casually, heart beating a million times a minute, your balls clenched tight, your bladder feeling ready to drain, your skin hot.

You check your watch again and swallow, trying not to sweat. You could leave. It wasn’t life or death, not like-

You sniff, clenching your knee with your hand as hard as you can. You look up to her, and relax. She’s just another person, you tell yourself. She’s got business here, just let her do her thing.

Far easier said than done. A minute drips by. Another. You stare at your knuckles and count the wrinkles, anything to not think about or look at her. She’s… she looks well. Her hourglass is curvy as ever. Her hair seems long, longer than you’ve ever seen. Her neck looks healthy, the scar was barely visible. You almost had to know it was there to see it. Was it makeup, or was it healing?

You pull out your pocket notebook, heart fluttering a moment.

The notes are just as they were last night when you wrote them, big points to discuss with the mayor. First, the town was growing fast, and needed a strong cultural identity. Second, with recent influx of people was tax money, and that meant reason to spend for those people. Third, and last, was the lack of any sort of theater in Ponyville. A tiny duo of studios couldn’t hold big bands or theatrical events. Ponyville needed a venue bigger than Sugarcube damn Corner.Stages could be made in the town square, and that was quite useful for impromptu performances, case in point Cheese Sandwich. Everyone in town showed up to that Birthaversary. Still, what if a band or something was touring towards Canterlot? The village at the foot of the mountain was prime small town stop material, a place for performers to put on a smaller show to recharge before a real crowd pleaser in the polis of the land. An amphitheater would be perfect, and the hill just west of city limits was a fine excuse to absorb more land, too.

“Beau,” Rarity said nonchalantly, suddenly breaking your train of thought, perhaps deliberately triggering the flight or fight response in you.

“Rarity,” you mutter just as toxic as she did.

You take a second to look up from the short list in your pocket notebook to look at her body a little closer. Her tits, oh fucking god, those amazing mounds of flesh looked amazing as ever. A line of cleavage, not particularly long, drove your panicking primal brain to growl with hunger. You silently swallow down the urge to move closer to her and press a little charisma.

The awkward tension was growing more and more taut by the second. “Doing well?” she asked, not looking up from her reading, “The Eye of the Needle”, the art a literal needle with a little symbol in the eye, of course. Seemed fit for a fucking seamstress.

You unclench your jaw and think saner thoughts. Rarity was a beautiful woman, compassionate, generous, nice, and of course gorgeous. She.... She was fucking perfect. Why the hell did she need force small talk? An uncomfortable silence would be much more palatable than small talk born of a C-section.

“Enough,” you murmur. “Yourself?”

She licks her finger, nails painted vivid, flawless blue, and flips the page. “I’ve got two new stores, one in Canterlot and another in Manehatten,” she recites without looking up. Do her cheeks look just a little red?

“Miss Rarity?” You look up to see a secretary, her pretty long brown hair just a little frizzed, probably from the oppressive humidity and bureaucratic stress.

The woman of international interest stood, smiling gently, slipping her book into her purse and disappeared behind the doors. You love to see her go, but are addicted to watching her leave. You shift a stiffness in your slim dress pants into your waistband and grip the edge of the bench in the small, vacant waiting room. What wouldn’t you give to feel her again, to smell her, taste her most sensitive flesh, to feed her your shaft while she… oh, fuck, this was an unhelpful train of thought. You stand and walk in small circles, hoping to recirculate some blood. Anything to help your situation out.

You head to the bathroom to relieve yourself, choosing to use a stall so you can bend over some to actually make the shot. The urinal would need some distance, and that just wouldn’t do.

The brown wooden wall you lean a hand against shows the building’s age while your other pushes your pulsing shaft down as you relax. “Fuck, Rarity,” you breathe, wishing she was here, and wishing she were in outer space, all at the same time. The scar was almost invisible. You would have never noticed it on her neck, had you not inflicted it so long ago. Was it really two years?

You open your eyes, not realizing you had even shut them. Luckily muscle memory had aimed your stream, and nothing missed. The pressure was relieved some, and you find your stiffness fading just a little. You whip the long tool and wick the last drop into the bowl. You flush and tuck the length back into your waistband, wash and zip up, then head back out to wait.

There’s nothing to do but read or reflect, so you distract yourself with an adventure novel. A lengthy son of a bitch, it’s been a challenge to get this far in the series. You find yourself thankfully sucked into the world, and a chapter whizzes by before Rarity struts out again, looking ever so resting-bitch-faced. God, how it shined with streaks of hot cum-

“Strings? Mister Strings?” the petite secretary asks to you. You look up from the hips swaying towards you to the woman with the clipboard. Why was everything this hard?

You close your book on the bookmark with a thump and tuck it into your briefcase. You stand, trying to ignore Rarity, but she stops, looking past you, your shoulders aligned. “I haven’t forgotten,” she whispers angrily.

“I think you never will.”

“The hill, where we had our first picnic. Saturday, hour after sunset. You’ll have one minute to talk.”

“Don’t wait for me.”

“Your erection is showing.”

You look down first for a split second, she steps away. It wasn’t, or, was it? Well, you couldn’t tell unless you looked at it, right? Rarity’s heels click on the stairs going down as your wingtips clack on the stone floor.

“Evening,” she says. “I’m Amber Quill, the mayor’s new secretary.”

“Beau,” you offer your hand, she takes it. You give her a gentle but sure shake. If she were a little older, you might have gone for the cheesy kiss on her hand, but there was a time and place for that. “Great to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she says, her eyes dipping for just a sec. “Um, Rarity was totally right by the way. I mean,” she said, her eyes falling like your chest. “I don’t really mind, but, you can totally see it.”

“Fuck me,” you sigh, pulling your pants up a little to try and fix it.

“Is that an order?” Amber giggled a little.”Don’t worry, you’ll be sitting. Keep in mind it’s five o’clock, and you’re the last meeting today on a Friday, so as you can imagine, the mayor is looking forward to some time off. Don’t attack with harsh questions, and don’t demand anything not fixable by taxpayers. If you think your questions would fall into that territory, we can reschedule for next week, or you can write in a formal request or complaint. Either way, she’ll get it Monday morning. Do you have anything before I bring you in?” she asked, cocking a hip and flicking her pen around in her fingers.

You pull out your little pocket book and smile and wink at her. “Yes, what perfume are you wearing?”

The meeting with the menopausal woman was rushed and much less earth-shattering than you had envisioned. The lady elect was quite down to earth, a professional, but a human at the limit of her mental patience nonetheless. She had agreed to every supposed change, all but the budget. The amphitheater was already proposed to be renovated and expanded into what seemed almost an arena. Ponyville was the definition of a sprawl, the town hall was the tallest building at six stories smack in the center of the village, but the town’s geographical size was several miles across and growing. With all that sales tax money, a new bigger venue would be a no brainer.

So said Rarity, less than an hour prior. When asked for details, the mayor declined. You gave her one last press, bringing up all the charisma you could, but there was no fuel to stoke the flames of. She was spent.

You departed, getting the college-aged secretary’s number, just in case. She was lacking above the waist, but definitely not below. The drive home is a silent one, your thoughts are a roaring sea, and anything on the radio wouldn’t be heard over it.

God, she looked so good. So fucking good. She must be making time for the gym, or something. Maybe she was just so active. Maybe it was magic. Either way, your erection was not calming down for now. You let it throb down a pant leg, it was a little more comfortable that way. Saturday, tomorrow night, what to do? What to say? What to wear, bring, sing? What time was sundown, this time of year? Another question bubbles to the surface as you auto drive home that quiets the others for a moment: why?

Then, a shotgunblast of others. Why now? Why you? Had she healed mentally? Did she want, unlikely as it may be, more? Was she- “Fuck,” you say, pounding the ceiling. You loosen your silk tie a little and roll down the window. You open the console and grab the cigarette pack, still in its cellophane condom. You just hold it, the three-year broken habit so close, one you stamped just a year after leaving Rarity, a testament to strength of will.

“She wouldn’t like the smell.” You sigh and slap the glove box closed. A mentally silent minute passes as you pull up into the double car garage, your motorcycle polished and begging. You head inside anyway, the sun was still high in the sky.

A strong gin and tonic sits in your hand, just starting to sweat as you kick off your shoes and head downstairs, but not to read in the den or watch awful television. You open the secret door, it was invisible to the untrained eye, and head into the room that hasn’t seen so much use this year. One kinky girl from out of town, she was mentally insane, but had zero gag reflex. She wasn’t into the chains and such. You touch a hair-thin scar on your cranium and drink a gulp down. “Fuck.”

It was here. You could smell the leather and pussy now. Maybe some stuff could use a little scrub. She had begged for it. “Come on!” was the trigger for more. “Come on!” she said it five times in a row, even when her voice shrank from lack of breath. Then, a minute passed, her hair and tits bouncing from the hard thrusts. She had grown to love anal. Her eyes blasted open, her beautifully painted lips mouthed “woah”, the soft stop, her eyes flickered, you stopped and gave her throat a little stronger squeeze, just for a second. She whimpered, breathless. Her chest exploded as she tried to suck in a breath, but her windpipe was shut. You didn’t know. Neither did she.

That was the worst interview by the paramedics and police ever, and it was in your lazy sunday bathrobe. Rarity wore the good one. She still had that plush, lovely thing, the fucking cunt.

The ice cubes clink as you sit on the springy, firm mattress, freshly flipped, the sheets cleaned last month when they were used. Bloodstains, just a few flecks near the head, look god awful. You need new ones, you decide.

You need to fill this whole fucking basement with cement and bury it all. You drink the little bit of water from the melted ice and slam your glass on the table nearby, and fall to the floor to lean against the wall. Your clothes feel like ten layers of wool, your arms and legs are lead. You bring your knees up and rest your heavy elbows on them, dipping your head like a homeless man might. The intubator wasn’t enough. They had to find the collapsed part, cut a damn hole below, go in that way, and fix her while she was out. Almost fifteen minutes. She could have been a fucking vegetable.

You fall to the floor, eyes shut, staring that wound down like the barrel of a loaded weapon. It was an accident. You had held her neck dozens of times, she loved it. Rarity, she took your hand at a party and made you rest your thumb on the gentle, tender flesh, in front of everyone.

“You ASKED FOR IT!” You hear yourself cry, fists balled, you punch the carpeted floor, all the better to silence cries of pain or bliss. Your nostrils are making an awful noise as you breathe. You sit up and clear your nose into your handkerchief, then drop it. “Rarity,” you moan, eyes and cheeks and fingers hot in the cold basement air. You inspect your knuckles. The skin’s broken on all four, but it’s just a bad scrape.

“It’s been years,” you gag. “She’s moved on, or at least well enough. She’s more successful than ever, just like me. Just like me. She… she wants me.”

You pant out and pull yourself up. You pull out the scrap of paper with Amber’s name on it. “I have no fucking idea what I’m going to do,” you say, breathing more and more steadily by the minute.

“But, I can figure it out.”

You grab your glass, kill the lights and lock the hidden door behind you. You rinse off your knuckles in the bathroom, cursing yourself. Amber’s number is added to the book in your nightstand, but it’s not her’s you dial.

It rings four times, then a girl answers the phone. There’s bumping music in the background, modern house by the sound. “Ello?” she shouts.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“From the new year’s party?”

“Yeah, yeah I need you.”

“Ooooh, need a threepeat?” she laughed.

You smile. She had the hugest tits, total cumslut. “Not like that. I need advice. On Rarity.”

A record actually scratched, and the music stopped. “Shit! Put it back on! I don’t care!” she said in a hushed shout. The music resumed on another song, just a planned bass drop, people. There was a decrescendo as she probably fled. Everything grew incredibly quiet on her end. You turned up the volume, trying to hear what was going on, almost injecting the receiver end of your phone into your ear. “WHAT?!” she shouts, making your ear ring.

You switch sides, working your jaw, trying to pop your ear like you just got off a plane. “You heard me. We crossed paths, and she wants to talk.”

“W-well, wait, o-” a short pause. “Ooooooh. Sorry, I’m sorta buzzed! Yeah, no, she’s like, my best friend. You’re not getting anything from me, sorry.”

“Wait!” you shout, searching for things to say. She was a sex fiend, offering her pleasure might be like offering a billionaire money: she’d either be greedy and feed her addiction, or treat it like a drop in the bucket. You decide to avoid that tactic. “She’s your friend, right? So you heard the whole story, from her end.”

“Aaaand what makes you think I’m not satisfied that she’s telling the whole truth?”

“Because, Pinkie. You just said that. There’s two sides to the story, any story.” You pause, letting her reply, but she remains silent. “Look, you probably don’t care about every detail, but some of the grim things are important in this case.

“She asked for it, and I’m not just saying that. Rarity begged me to hold her neck like that. I, I was giving her what she demanded, like she had before. She loved it, until she felt short of breath. I, I gave her a little, no, I let her have one last squeeze, then let go. Her, oh my god her eyes, she… I called 911 and sped to the hospital. You and Twilight met her there.

“We talked only once, and all I got to say was I’m sorry. We saw each other out running errands, she said she would talk to me. I have one minute, sixty seconds to talk. Pinkie, I need your help. You know her, you know people. What they like, what they think, especially you six, you know?”

A pregnant pause with four trimesters lingered. You think you hear breathing. Maybe she had just ran up stairs. She smacked her lips and made a short noise, like she was going to say something, but stopped again. “I, Rarity… Beau, Rarity told me she liked this BDSM kinky stuff, but I never thought she asked for the choking that much. Did she really try to get you to stop?”

“Yeah,” you say. “And I did, as soon as she did, but Pinkie, please, don’t think I want to tell you all this. I was fucking her. She was on her back, and I was on top of her, and she, she was making all sorts of faces, and when, she couldn’t speak. She made the shape with her lips of the stop word, but, I, I was already thrusting, and-”

“Holy fuck, you’re right, you don’t need all that detail,” she blurted.

You swallow some melted ice. “Well, that’s what happened. Don’t, please, please, please, don’t let anyone else know what happened. I’m so fucking ashamed and disappointed in myself. I, I’ve never felt worse than that day. I just want Rarity to know I’ve been ready to take her back, or have me back. I’ve grown and changed. She would never have to worry, she would always be safe, and she would always have my love.”

“That’s a lot to say in a minute without sounding like an eighth grader going through his first breakup, Beau,” she said. “But what I would do…”

You write everything down, every word, minus a few extra “really”’s and the like.

* * *

The stars are absolutely brilliant, steady in their imperceptibly slow march across the sky. You gaze past their infinite distance and swallow, your chest and arms sore after one of the hardest workouts you’ve had. Vanity was one hell of a motivator. You flex, admiring the pump you’ve given yourself in your taught, silky button down shirt, the cuffs rolled just a few times to show off the forearms. Your long pants don’t fit into the midsummer night’s heat, but only yacht owners, professional athletes, and potheads could pull off shorts after dark, same goes for boots or sneakers, hence the wing tips, freshly polished.

The time is near, it was fifty minutes past, exactly the same location on the hill where you had that fateful date. You lean back in the lush, soft grass and rest your head on your upturned hands and try to relax. Tall order. Your heart was thundering, and you pray your freshly applied deodorant would hold, and not overpower the best cologne you had, Rarity’s favorite. She’d notice, hopefully. There was only so much you could do to stack the deck.

“Beau,” a sweet, flat, contentious voice said, nearly in a whisper, yet near. You pry your eyes open, hoping you pulled off the aloof look well. Appearing like a bum wouldn’t do any good. How could you look homeless, your hair was done perfectly.

And if your outfit was well done, hers was a modern masterpiece. A short, quite short summer dress matched her demeanor perfectly. White with thin stripes, barely visible in the late twilight, slimmed her already lithe figure, and the hem was simple and elegant. She was born to design and make, that was without doubt.

You sit up slightly, looking up to her openly. “Beautiful as ever,” you say.

She cocked a hip and stared down, her handbag resting in the crook of her opposite elbow. “One minute,” she said, speaking towards her pocket watch.

Without delay, your routine starts off. You smoothly roll onto your feet and stand in front of her. “Rarity, two years is eternity without you. I used to love to hurt you, but that was an immature, fetishistic, fanatical fantasy, born of an awful desire to hurt and maim beautiful women. Since I met you, I knew deep down I’d love nothing more than to make you smile, make your heart soar like you made mine every time our eyes meet.”

You drop to your knee and take her surprised hand, her face a little red from the sudden attention and implicit gesture. “So, since you know how sorry I was, I won’t waste time. I want you back, and I’ll do anything to have you. I’ll be a scapegoat if that’s what it takes, I’ll be a bull who takes what he wants, I’ll be a conniving con artist if I need to trick you, I’ll be a guardian, a knight, I’ll be a puddle of muck if that’s what you want. Because I need you. We were something disgustingly wonderful. I’m ready to be just… wonderful. I’ve grown. Let me show you.”

You take one last deep breath, looking into her eyes. “Or was that ‘one minute’ a ‘seven minutes in heaven’ type of minute?” Before you finish, she brings her bag around and slaps your face, harder than you might have expected.

Before you can sit up and recover, her hands are on your cheeks pulling you up. “Beau Strings!” she screeches into your face, furious, eyes burning like her cheeks. God, they looked cute. Sorta like when she had a glass or two too many. It went well with her glossy lipstick, the light layer she had on.

You stand with her, looking down into her vivid blue eyes. She’s blushing, but her smile betrays her pouty demeanor. You touch her sides, and she doesn’t shy away. “Do you suppose it’s been long enough?” she asked, touching the scar on her neck.

It’s hard not to lean in and kiss her, equally to not shove her away and walk off. You look into her eyes and think of that question. She understood, you know now just as two years ago. But was there any real chance?

The answer was always no unless you asked, right?

“Yeah, it’s been long enough, I think. I love you,” you whisper.

Rarity’s smile softens, her laugh lines deepen as her eyes grow watery. “I had this whole spiel planned… I just want you to, to… Beau!” She squeaks and leans up to kiss you, her arms flying over your shoulders, her right heel kicking up high. Her breath is sweet, just like her lip gloss. You hold her tight, pressing your chest to hers, those perky C cups squishing nicely.

After a long ten seconds, she pushes away to suck in a deep breath. She moves her lips to say something, but subsides. She pounces again, throwing her weight. There was serious work to be done with burying hatchets, but now was the time to indulge, to enjoy pleasure. You lean back and lie down in a half-coordinated fall. She lays on you, moaning as she sucks your lips ands kisses and kisses and kisses away. There’s so much skin and cotton to touch, so many curves to feel, so much breath to feel and smell and so much hair to enjoy. Her body is fit as ever, her flesh perfect. You relax with her, but she’s too much.

You roll on top of the girl and give her everything you need to give. Your hand on her shoulder, the other under her perfect back, you hold her tight and groan with her, finding her tongue in your mouth. She spreads her legs and you find your hardness pressing into the soft folds of her dress, high between her thighs.

The lady in her pushes off, breathing hard. “Beau!” You kiss her neck as she sucks in deep breaths. “Ah! You’re too much!” She giggled and stroked your head, pulling you up by your hair. “Calm down, lover boy, we’ve got all night.”

“Is this happening?” you ask, trying not to breathe too hard as you stand on your arms. “I don’t just want to fuck, Rarity. I need you back, for good.”

“Then is sex not what would convince me?”

What? “What? What kind of question is that-”

“No angle,” she said, “Beau. You and I both know we loved it, sex, I mean. Would you not like to do it again?”

“But, I…” Girls used sex to find love, guys used love to find sex, that’s how it was, right? Well, Rarity was worth loving, way back when.

The answer is always no unless you ask.

You look into her eyes and smile. “My place?” you ask.

She smiles, giggling shortly. “Mm, no, I think I’d like to have you in my bed, tonight.” She winks and sits up, kissing you softly, before scooting out from under you. You just sit back and watch, smiling, as she dusts herself off and sets her dress right. “Oh, you animal, I’ve got grass stains on my bum. Oh well, it should come out. Beau,” she says, letting the fabric out of her pulling hand, the image of the curve of her ass still hot in your mind. “This is about more than fucking, you realize, right?” she says, a little more seriously, cocking her hip and looking down at you.

“Of course.” You stand up and fix your pants, not hiding the bulge aimed down your leg. Rarity doesn’t look down, but that’s okay. “I wouldn’t want it to be, Rarity. You have the most beautiful personality, and your voice is phenomenal, too.”

“Beau,” she says, grinning deeply, clasping her hands in front of her, her beautiful blue eyes staring into yours. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“If I didn’t, why would I say that?”

“To revengefuck me, maybe,” she said flatly, that cute smile growing vindictive.

You look into the sky and feel uneasy. What was there to say to that?! It would be kinky, but… “I mean, it would be kind of hot, but, I’m not looking for revenge, and definitely not by fucking you. I wouldn’t feel right, doing something I loved so much to someone I hold so dear with any intent other than intimacy.”

That made her giggle, but not with amusement, apparently the opposite. She pulled herself close. “Sorry, that was rather blunt, wasn’t it?” she said, hugging your arm. “Come on, let’s go be awkward in my bed.”

She drove. You find the conversation a little rough to start, but things grew more honest and open by the moment. You find her hand in your lap, and she pulls yours into hers. You slide her skirt back, discussing what the mayor was wearing, something you hardly noticed. Amber had your eye, but you withhold that nugget as you feel the pinkie of your left hand touch her panties. There’s lace, that’s about all you can figure with touch alone, besides heat. She’s biting her lip as you grip her pale, soft, strong thigh hard, the skin milky smooth as ever.

“Shh, we’re here,” she said, pulling onto the side street. Her store and home was quaint as ever. You climb out and glance at your watch, nearly ten on a Thursday, smack in the middle of June. You follow the smiling girl inside, leaving behind your jacket and other things.

Once inside, she pauses in the kitchen. “Care for a drink?” she asks, and you can’t decide. “We’ll need some of this,” she sighs, pulling out a bottle of water, chilled to perfection, surely room temperature by the time you’ll think to drink.

Everything she does is tinted from both the promise of sex and the sour air of history. You struggle to see through to the woman carrying herself so gracefully.

At last, even though you’ve been inside for less than a minute, you are taken by the hand up the stairs. She takes her time, but you don’t mind with the view she offers, hiking up her dress just a bit. The bottom curve of her ass looks well earned, starkly defined, she probably squats double her weight.

The instant she’s inside, you close the door and take her from behind, pressing your waist into that sculpted ass. She sighs and looks up over her shoulder. You meet her face with your lips and she instantly kisses back, pressing her hips towards yours. You moan softly into her mouth as your hands grab her wrists, which she pulls away once you’ve taken hold, pushing her into you even harder.

With one last little buck, you send her away to her bed. She laughs and drapes her dress over her arm, catching it with her hand as the straps fall over her arm. She winks and leans back, reaching high behind her to grip the pole of the foot of the bed. She turns, her back so damn sexy in the lamplight. The four-poster is the same one you wore marks into the wall with, banging the headboard, terrorizing her cat.

Rarity dropped her dress to hang about her sexy hips, leaning against the pole with two hands, bucking her ass back and spreading her legs, making quite a shelf. She shook her hips slowly back and forth, the stripes on her ass turning hypnotic. You groan your approval as you undo buttons in a blaze. Your seventy-bit shirt falls in a pile at your feet with your expensive shoes. She’s now hugging the pole, her perky, soft tits wrapped around it, shimmying out of her dress. She stands in lavender lace underwear, smiling over her shoulder as your belt hangs in your hand.

Would she like it? There was a huge risk. She’s, oh god, is she begging for it?

The signals are too hard to read. You drop your belt and watch her eyes follow it to the floor. The urge to snatch it back up like a weapon and advance on that delicious ass are strong. You relent and move in unarmed, but she turns and holds out a hand. “Where do you think you’re going? Is that how you’re going to play with your food?” she giggles like a little girl, pulling on her panties.

The offer is too much, you take her little body up like a piece of meat and throw her soft body on her bed, climbing in after. You lift her legs high in the air over your shoulders and kiss and lick your way up her hot thighs. You spread them wide as you kiss her panties, right on the crotch, looking into her eyes. She is red in the face, breathing hard, hands near her head. You lick the cloth and give it a bite, pulling them aside. It was way hotter to leave them on, yanked to the side.

The smell, oh god, it was so fucking good, yet so awfully terribly mouthwatering. She was always so clean. You feel a tug at your pants and look down, seeing a glowing blue hand there. Rarity laughs as she finds the button, undoing it. You focus back at the lips, puffy and wet in front of you.

The outer pair are lush and full, practically gushing with life and heat. You give them a tender kiss, like the lips on her face. She moans at that. You sigh over the mons and give her a gentle suck on both lips whole. Like two little wings, her soft pink lips melt in your mouth. You dive your tongue down inside her hot vulva, tickling her pink underneath. You gently tickle her clit with a little fluttering motion, moaning deep and suck on her hot button. She arches her back as your cheeks cave in, your hands clenching her hips, pulling her body into you.

She clenches your hair and tugs, smiling down to you, her ass in the air as you hold her tight. Rarity groans and smiles, her feet pushing her up. You dive your tongue deep inside and get her shoulders to spasm, her hips bucking you off of her.

With a show of swiftness, you pull yourself on top of her to kiss her neck, erection long and stiff between her thighs. “I need you so much,” you groan in her ear, hand tangled in that long dark hair of hers.

Rarity whimpers like a lapdog as you bring her knees up, spreading her thighs wide. You lay between her, your long, hard cock finding those wet lips you had in your mouth seconds ago. “Ah,” you groan in her ear, her nails digging into your back. She doesn’t let up a bit as you sink inside, moaning, breath tickling her ear. You bite her lobe and lift her lower back in the air as you hold her close. “Rarity…” You find yourself mumbling as you sink deep, deep inside. Your raw flesh touches hers, the tip prodding her cervix, making the woman gasp and arch her back more sharply.

You shiver once, she breathes into your ear and whines, her legs curling around your back. You thrust deep inside her, with plenty of force, pressing her into her lush bed. With a slow, deliberate motion, your hips pull back and your long cock nearly falls out. You sink it deep inside, finding her cervix and pushing still. At last, you find your bare need for intimacy sated. You kiss her sweetly on the temple and begin to really thrust rhythmically.

“G-owah, yes,” she groans, relaxing under you. Her body goes near limp as you use it like a dog uses a leg. She smiles into your face as you speed up, making those perfect pillows bounce. “I’m on birth control, still, Beau,” she says, stroking your jaw. “I want you inside me.”

You kiss her lips, and she squirms. She always hated the flavor of her pussy on your lips, but you don’t care. She doesn’t either, cupping your face and shoving her tongue in your mouth. You inhale through your nose and make the bed rock with the force. Faster, harder, till you need to pull back to suck air.

You look down in the dim light and make out her lips spread around your veiny cock. You look to her face, her eyes are fluttering, rolling back as you jerk your hips and buck her hard. “E-Easy,” she breathes. You ease the force, but pick up the pace. You feel like you’re starting to get close.

“Rarity,” you pant, sweat starting to bud on your skin.

She smiles and says: “I already had three, I think, darling. Cum, deep inside me!”

You grip one of her tits and kiss her hard, fingers clutching firmly. You buck your hips deliberately, each thrust unique. You guide yourself in and out carefully, aiming your body, tempted to pull out, but it’s so much more satisfying to satisfy her. You break the kiss and moan in her ear, cheek against hers. “Love you, baby,” you groan.

“I love you!” she whines, back arching as the thrusts are becoming shaky. Her legs clamp down, holding you inside. The tip of your cock throbs like mad, and you can feel your balls have stopped swinging so wildly. You grit your teeth and buck and buck and buck until it just happens.

“A-Aaaugh!” You grunt, then pant, throat clenching up sometimes as your cock flexes and pumps its load deep into her receiving flesh. It’s so hot, wet, fragrant, tight, perfect, you hold her tight like she’s treasure and just breathe hard for a while, sharing your sweat and breath and love.

“Love you,” she whispers, letting her head hit the pillow, at last. You play with her long, messy hair and smile, the first time without that awful rocky feeling in your heart in a long, long time. For at least five minutes, Rarity just nuzzles her cheek or slides her hand or wiggles her body, content as you are, apparently, with just staying like this.

You sit up with a grunt. “Love you, too, Rarity,” you say, looking down at her body, part of you still inside. A smile grows across your fatigued face in the dark. You touch her warm body, seeing with your touch. You feel her stomach, a light layer of soft fat over her muscle, she’d been working out. You feel up, skin milky smooth and velvety soft. You can feel her ribs faintly, then her beautiful C-ish cups. They were plenty. Her nipples were the treasure, hard and small, perfectly sensitive, as indicated by her little gasp as you run your thumbs over both at the same time. You feel her sides and come up, touching her shoulders and pressing down, watching her face as she looks up at you. Slowly, you feel her sexy collarbone, then her neck. One hand rests there, hers at her side.

You don’t linger, feel no need to, it’s lovely as the rest of her, even the nearly imperceptible scar. She smiles as you touch her chin, moving her face gently. “What did I do to deserve such a gorgeous woman? Who’s painting did I pull you from, huh?”

She laughs, oh god it’s beautiful. She takes your hand and pulls you down, her other gripping the nape of your neck. You share a long, sweet kiss, she tastes delicious. “Flattery will get you anything,” she whispered, adding a little giggle. You kiss her again, pushing up and pulling out of her.

“Ung,” you grunt. You kneel back, feeling cold now. The blankets follow you as you lay next to her, her little body in your arms. She rolls on top of you and kisses you deeply, stopping your hand as it travels down her tender back. Her tongue finds yours, and you indulge in a few minutes of her saliva and breath.

By the end, all the grinding and sighing and moaning and handling has gotten you hard. Rarity feels this, obviously, because her stomach is grinding against the stiff pole resting on your nude belly. She sighs and sits up, fixing her mane in the dimness. “Need a break?” she asks, hand cupping your balls.

“Not yet,” you say, smiling up at her.

Rarity’s fingers grip the head of your shaft and stroke the sticky skin. “Good. Because I need you.” With that, she slips down under the covers, spinning so her head is in your lap and ass on your chest. You grip her rear as her lips find your cockhead. She moans, vibrating everything as she slips her lips up and down. Not a bit of softness remains.

“Ah, oh god yes,” you groan. “I can’t believe how good you are, Rarity...”

Rarity spits your member out, looking over her shoulder. “Don’t forget. I’m sorry, darling, but I need more than just to suck tonight. Well, that’s a lie, I’m not sorry in the slightest.”

Laughing as she does it, Rarity sits up and scoots til her ass is in your lap, your cock pressed against her lower tummy. She stands tall on her knees and leans forward. Her hand guides you inside, and again, it’s like heaven. The wetness, the heat, her pussy is so snug, too. She sighs as she sits down, facing away, hair in a messy ponytail in her hand. You stare at her hourglass body. “Oh my god,” you mumble, drinking in every curve and line of her back. “Rarity.”

She smirks, grinding back and forth in quick little circles. “I know.” She wore such a smug air, but that was perfectly fine when she started to slowly rise and fall, your long cock buried deep inside her hot pussy. Your hands reach for her hips, but there’s no point. She’s doing exactly what you want. Her everything thick hips, tiny waist, even her boobs are visible on either side of her torso from behind. You follow the curve of her spine all the way to her little shoulders, twisted to look back at you. Her eyes drink in your body, too, her hips twisted just slightly as she rises and falls quickly.

Rarity faces forward again and arches her back down to put more sexy in her moves. “Ah, you’re so big.” Rarity groans as she works her hips, yours bucking up into her. The pleasure this time is even better. She works hard and fast, smiling over her shoulder. “Ah, you like that, you love my little pussy.”

You reach forward and take her hips, arms crossing across her belly. You pull her back and hold her little body to yours, smiling, cheek against hers. “You know I do, baby, let me fuck you, now.” Rarity laughs out, nuzzling you sweetly. She suddenly gasps as your hips buck into her, sliding your cock deep in and out, rapidly. “Fuck, I love you, Rarity,” you groan in her ear.

She cups your cheek, feet resting on the sheets keeping her body in the air. You fuck up into her, quite effectively. She closes her eyes and whines little snippets of praise as you make her body bounce from recoil. Your thrusts grow harder and harder, you’re grunting in her ear. You take her body and spin her onto her chest, pinning her under you, pushing her down with both hands on her shoulders. You grip and pull on her, your body making her eyes roll back. She lays there, face turned to the side and pressed into the pillow.

You feel it, that surge, the rush of power. There’s no chains or cuffs or collars, you aren’t even smashing her face into the pillow, but it’s just as good as if you were. No wax, no whips, no choking, no ropes, just skin on skin, soft sheets, and plenty of hot sweat. You feel the pressure build up, prompting you to ease back and let the pace cool down so you can think straight.

Rarity whines over her shoulder. “Beau, don’t stop!” You kiss her cheek and stand back up tall on your knees. “Where do you want to cum?” she asked, smiling. You use long, slow thrusts, showing her how long you really are, making her moan. The tip just pops out, then you carefully, precisely slip inside, filling her up. Her shoulders quake, back arching, her face lifting up as she squeaks out. You bottom out, filling her up completely, but follow through and make her whole body lean forward. You swallow, grunting softly, smiling down at her. Silently, you slip back, letting your member languidly get pushed out of that tight, squeezing hole. Her pussy gapes just a bit as you pull out, snugging shut a moment after. You push back in, making the girl inhale deep. You place your hands on that round, tight, perfect ass, nice and big for you to squeeze. You push in carefully, just feeling her velvet smoothness glide apart for your stiff pole, on the verge.

A dozen times, you fill her with your desires, so slow, elongating the process. She’s panting, sweating still, shivering. She looks back after every thrust, her eyes begging for the carnal pounding you had given her. She smiles after a tiny bit of time, breathing fast and deep. You smile back and double the timid pace, leaning forward. You rest your body on hers, cheek on her forehead. You breathe out with her, hands pushing on her wide hips toward the foot of the bed.

“That’s it,” you breathe, rocking with her. She reaches up and cups your cheek, your hand covers hers, intertwining her fingers as you speed up more and more, your flesh meeting along all of her soft body, Rarity even tangles her slender legs with yours. You use more of a rolling motion, making her body seem to bounce as you undulate together, so close, so hot.

It feels beyond amazing. You glide all the way in effortlessly, but the feeling is growing numb as your member grows used to the sensation. Luckily, you could do this forever. You double the tempo again, listening to a silent concerto in your head, and this is the finale, the triumphant conquering, the jovial, jubilant celebration. You hug her body ever tighter and push hard inside, making her tiny feminine voice whimper. She nuzzles her hair into your chin as you finally ejaculate a volley of powerful blast, groaning with her trembling body. The eruptions rock your body, and you spasm, pushing down as hard as you can, anything to dive deeper, deeper inside, her core is not enough.

You open your eyes at last, sucking air, your front searing hot. You stand on your arms in a pushup position, Rarity’s skin peeling from yours. “Ah,” you sigh, looking at her, shifting her head to face the other way. You stand on your knees and pull out, letting her flip over and recover, too. You flop to her side like a sack of potatoes, smiling up at her face, light makeup ruined, her styled hair in shambles. She’s staring past the foot of the bed, a dull smile lingering on her face, she’s breathing rapidly, her beautiful breasts just standing perky from her little body. You slip to sit at her side and put your arms behind your head, just enjoying the stuffy air with her for some time.

“Beau,” she sighed after a pregnant pause. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had,” she laughed, lowering herself to lay on her side, resting her head against your sparsely hairy chest, you lower your arm and hug her tenderly. Lying nude is a necessity. Covered in drying sweat and partially with a tangled blanket, both your bodies are in need of something cool.

You give the perfect woman a kiss on her forehead and sit back, sighing deep. “God, that was something else, wasn’t it? I think it was for me, too. I, I just wanted to give you everything.”

Rarity giggled and stroked your chest, your abs, your groin, cupping your wet, softening cock. “I felt like a slab of meat, and you were just pounding me, then,” she swallows, “you just started sawing, so slooow! OoooOOOH! Oh, Beau that was so hot! I loved it.”

You smile, closing your eyes and just relaxing. “Just came to me,” you reply, squeezing her tight as she starts to gently stroke your sticky dick, just a bit sore from the abuse. “How do you feel?”

“Sweaty,” she stated instantly, looking at her body. “Filthy, dirty, thirsty, nasty, hungry, a bit lovestruck. You?”

You rub her shoulder. “Sleepy. Satisfied, somewhat.”

“Somewhat?” she asked, standing on an elbow. She pulled her hair out of her face, careful to use her clean hand, the same with which she supported herself. It looked odd, pulled to the right, her left. “You just fucked my brains out, darling, and you’re not satisfied?”

You look at your toes, not thinking about anything much at all. “I want this. This is great. But I want even more. Not, girls, or you know, that mean stuff. I want more of you. Everyday.”

She seemed to relax, smiling, of course she was better: she heard what she wanted to hear. But, there was that nagging line next to her mouth, she wasn’t that simple, nor dumb. “I want you, too, Beau. Why don’t we do this, the whole being together, thing?”

“We made a great item, didn’t we,” you breathe into her lips, touching foreheads.

“You mean ‘will make’, sweetie,” she stated factually. The kiss was long and sweet, just like the two of you. “Come, rub soap all over my tits, darling,” she said crossly, sitting up with difficulty. “Ugh, I will feel this tomorrow. I love being your slam piece, darling, but it takes a toll on a lady.”

That makes you laugh. You swing your legs over and hop up, tired more than anything. You squat down and lift Rarity up like viking booty again, she doesn't even squeak. She sits with poise, a perfect prize, knowing she’s ideal and graceful, save for the cum leaking from her reddened pussy lips, waxed smooth.

The shower water was less than lukewarm at first, thank some higher power. The chill was a welcome rinse. Soon, Rarity dials the heat up and suds up her hair, with plenty of help, then her body, exclusively with help. She sighs, whining and slapping your fingers as you finger her. “Allow me,” she sighs, leaning back into your chest. “Your fingers are bigger than mine, and she’s already sore.”

She turns when prompted and lets you watch. She whimpers, the slimy sauce dripping away as you gently stroke her thighs. Once clean, she eagerly strokes your soapy cock, juggling your sack, too. She lifts her hands and moves her less smelly soap all over you, loosing all the caked up sweat and grime. She insists on massaging your back and gluteus, a pleasant sensation.

The perils of double showers are there, the cold lapses, the crowding, the blind bumping, but it’s cute and fun for the moment. You climb out and let her rinse her hair some more, there’s loads of it to rinse. After toweling off, drinking plenty, of water, you get to drool at Rarity in her bathrobe. It’s barely long enough to reach the world’s finest thighs. The plush white and pink gown is just begging to be in a dirty magazine or something. She even thought the comment was funny, she must be smitten.

You stay up and help change the sheets, probably a good idea, cleanliness is next to, obviously.

The makeout lasts probably twenty minutes before it devolves into careful cuddling with little whispers, her legs keeping your knees from resting on each other and vice versa.

At last her breathing is slow and steady, just like her heart. You swallow and let your lips smile. A gentle fingertip just barely touches her scar. “I love you,” you whisper into her ear from behind, giving her a tender kiss on the ear.