Mr. Cake's hoof wrapped lovingly around his wife's plump barrel, the other moving 'round to rub against her plumper rump. He massaged her flank lovingly, his weight pressing against her back as he leaned forward toward her cheek.

"Good evenin', Princess," he murmured. He nuzzled against her cheek, felt the warmth of her dimpled face. "How's my Angel Cake feeling?"

Cup Cake gasped, stopping halfway above the batter she'd been mixing. "Carrot," she scolded—and then whimpered, in that adorable, squeaky way of hers. "O-oh, Carrot, the foals—"

"Are asleep, Missus Cake." Carrot Cake planted a kiss on his wife's ear, grinned when he saw it flick toward his muzzle. He felt Cup Cake's weight shifting beneath him, her chubby flanks rubbing against the insides of his thighs as his poor, flustered wife tried to reassert some control over the situation. Soothingly, he removed the mixing bowl from her hooves and set it onto the counter, his long, slender leg easily crossing the distance as his other rubbed at his wife's chest, tense from the long business day. He nudged her chin gently with his hoof, met her muzzle with his own as she turned toward him. They exhaled together, nostrils flaring against the sweet, sugar-thick air. He tasted her moan, tasted the sweet, airy sugar of her lips and tongue as they wriggled helplessly against his.

When she finally opened her eyes, he smiled down at her, pride and desire and fierce love filling his chest.. Such a contrast they were—him, tall, awkward, lanky; her, stout, curvy, well-rounded. And yet he couldn't even begin to dream of a more lovely creature.

He could already feel himself hardening, his respectable length emerging from its sheath. Her soft, welcoming rump depressed lightly beneath his hardening stiffness, her cream-padded cheeks wrapping tenderly about his member with each inch it grew. Involuntary clenches and shifts told him volumes about her opinions on their togetherness, as well; he had learned to read her in every twitch and happy sigh.

He planted another quick peck on her nose, and she giggled. An adorably rosy blush touched her cheeks as she glanced demurely up at him.

"Pinkie—"

"Has the weekend off," Carrot Cake said, smiling; he'd made sure of that. He moved in to nuzzle in slight, silly circles against her cheek, and she returned the motion, cooing softly.

"Oh, but the kitchen," she murmured. Her ear flicked again, her cheek pressing against his. "You naughty stallion." It was an old game, but he knew she was playing, and that was all he needed.

"The bedroom is open, my love," he murmured back. He stroked a hoof through her bountiful mane and she shivered back against him, panting gently. His stallionhood, responding to the familiar heaven of her shuddering touch, flexed lightly as it reached its full length, and he gasped under his breath. "Should we go warm our bed together?"

"Naughty," she murmured again, but the blush didn't hide the spark in her eyes. "A studly stallion like you wanting to get your hooves all over a pudgy ol' mare like me."

"Not pudgy," he cooed. He curled a hoof under her belly, gave her a gentle squeeze, loving the soft squish anew with every touch. "Plump. Beautifully so, just like a baker should be." He winked down at her, and took a deep breath of her mane; he stoutly considered that scent more intoxicating than Sweet Apple Acres Reserve. His hips gave a little twitch, and she gasped beneath him; he could already feel the space between her cheeks growing warm with desire. His muzzle leaned forward, and he nipped her ear playfully in his teeth. "Feeling sexy, dear?"

"Ooh—you incorrigible flirt!" she shot back at him. She flicked his lips away from her ear...but then turned to meet him in another kiss, their mouths pressing together as her hoof wound its way around his shoulder in return. When their kiss ended, both were panting, an undeniable aroma of need suffusing the air around them.

"If you do that, I'll end up all the more incorridged, dear!" he replied, lovingly. His gaze, he found, was willingly and utterly caught in hers.

"Shall we move to the bedroom, Mr. Cake?" she asked him. A tingle of expectant delight went up Carrot's spine at the title—somehow, calling each other by their married names was just so much naughtier than merely using their given ones. He smiled down at her, and—with a huff, a jerk, and a stumble, hefted her over his shoulder.

She squeaked, wriggled on his back, "You silly brute!" she told him, laughing all the louder. For his part, Carrot Cake trembled, his body shaking a bit beneath his wife's wobbly weight. She was pleasingly plump—he hadn't lied—but as much as he enjoyed the soft pudge of her love handles pressing upon his back muscles, the weight of her curvy form on his shoulder blades wasn't quite as easy to carry as it'd once been. He was no spring chicken, and his wife no flighty filly.

So, then, it was a bit of a relief to let her roll off his shoulder and onto their shared bed, the door swinging shut behind them as Mr. Cake sucked in a greedy breath. His shoulder ached...but the sight of his wife prone on their quilt drew up new, wonderfully sinful thoughts into his belly, sending endorphin counter-agents to any mere mortal acheiness.

"Please, Mr. Cake," his wife cooed, "won't you warm a poor, lonely mare?"

He chuckled, slipped in beside her. "Anytime, sweetums."

He held her close to him, cradling her in his forelegs as his shaft pressed against her buxom rump. Breathing softly, he pulled her closer and murmured, "Some foreplay on the menu, darling?"

She shivered, giggled. "Oh, no," she murmured back. "I'm quite drenched honeybuns- perhaps you wouldn't mind just...?"

"Of course, cheesecake," he said. He nipped her on the ear; she giggled again and flagged her tail all the further. Taking a deep breath, he flexed his flanks, pulling his hips back to line up his crotch just so...

"O-ooh,” she groaned. “S-somepony's eager tonight," She stiffened, then went nearly limp in his arms, her counter-tease lost in the moment of sudden contact and delight. A happy little shudder went through her body, and he felt her warm, velvety insides rub invitingly against his member. Mr. Cake grunted under his breath, his cock warming quickly as his flare scraped against the walls of his wife's wet marehood.

She hadn't been lying. She was absolutely sopping.

On seeming impulse alone, Cup Cake suddenly twisted in his grip, planting a kiss upon his muzzle as his cock throbbed within her. His foreleg slipped around her waist, squeezed her chubby thigh as her tongue wriggled its dexterous way around his. When they pulled away, a thin line of saliva connecting their lips, his wife's eyes were bright, her cheeks as red and rosy as the first night they'd met.

"C-carrot Cake," she stammered. His lengthy cock throbbed inside of her, and she let out a soft little moan of fulfillment, a sheen of saliva glittering on her upper lip. "O-ooh, honey—"

His hooves wrapped up around her back, securing and comforting. "Hush, sweetums," Mr. Cake said breathily. He smiled up at his wife, reached up to brush a strand of her wild mane out of her face. She giggled—and then moaned again, her lips parting wide in a silent gasp as a shudder of his stiff member sent a splatter of precum oozing down her hot, moist insides. She shivered atop his rod, her plump rear clenching greedily around his shaft.

Gasping, cooing softly, she joined his motion with her eager response and slipped further down his member, his slender—though lengthy—organ filling her up better than a triple-layer chocolate cake. Her hoof went to her quivering belly, as if to feel his flare pushing against her middle as she bottomed out over him. Carrot Cake grunted, his teeth gritting shut as he felt his low-hanging orbs groan with longing.

Grinning softly, he rolled his hips with almost teasing gentleness. His wife groaned atop him, each well-practiced flick of his waist leading his blunt flare to roll against another angle of her dripping marehood. "How's that feel, Mrs. Cake?" he asked, licking his lips.

Her eyes were half-lidded, but love, lust, and desire glimmered deep within them. Scarcely breathing, she twisted, then leaned forward to plant a hoof on his chest. He grunted as her weight doubled against him, sucking in a breath as her lips brushed against his.

"Do you...really think I'm sexy?" Mrs. Cake asked. Her voice was timid, but something in it hinted at a note of confident, tender longing.

He kissed her, long and deep and hard. When he pulled away, his hips taut and his thighs clenched, he whispered, "Always, Angel Cake"—and planted both hooves on her sizable flanks. Words were important, especially when they were true, but actions were irreplaceable.

She threw herself into it from there, even as her pet name sent her giggling with obvious delight. Panting eagerly, Cup Cake drew up her well-padded rump—and then thrust it back down. The impact was gentle, but pronounced enough that it sent her two fat cheeks rippling and bouncing against his sturdy, if slender thighs. Mr. Cake grunted, groaning as she pulled back up—and then gasped as she did it again.

Up and down his wife's tender pussy went, her juices dripping down her thighs, intertwining with the drooling liquid of his own arousal. Their grunts and groans twisted together, the air thick with the evidence of their lust. Every other thrust found their lips meeting, hooves twisting together as Mrs. Cake's massive, plush rump flattened out over her husband's lap. Up and down it went, two trios of cupcake-Cutie Marks rippling and bouncing and rolling with each sex-fueled thrust, the two lovers moaning sighs reaching a crescendo as Carrot Cake felt an unmistakable tension building in his loins.

As Mrs. Cake's thick rump squished out over his hot crotch, her fat cheeks folding over her weighty thighs, Mr. Cake felt the pressure redouble in his needy balls. The supple, warm flesh of his wife's massive rump smooshed against his nuts, and Mr. Cake felt his hooves squeeze around it.

So big—so fat—so perfectly bouncy and round. It waggled before him every day, sticking up into the air whenever his wife so much as bent over to fetch a cup of flour. Her divine cheeks bounced and rolled, leaving him hard behind the counter with fantasies of her tender rump wrapping around his length, sandwiching his length as her cute little moans echoed in his ears.

Except his fantasy wasn't just a dream. And his stallionhood, rather than throbbing emptily between his legs, was instead thrust inside the most personal, intimate place it could be.

Their lips met, pressing together, tongues dueling as the peak of orgasm hit them both. Mr. Cake's tongue pressed hungrily against his wife's as splash after splash of his hot, creamy load splattered against her insides, his thick spunk almost foaming as it mixed with the nectar of her own juices. Her rear pressed down heavily against his lap, her two massive cheeks squeezing every last drop of seed from his testes as her own orgasm wracked and convulsed her sopping pussy, wringing her of every drop of arousal and need. Her panting, almost squealing moans were music to his ears, and he felt his own orgasm redouble in intensity before once more shuddering to a halt.

They hit the bed together, panting, groaning, clutched in each other's limbs. Cup Cake whimpered, then moaned in soft satisfaction. Smiling, Carrot Cake pulled his wife a little closer, hugging her tight as his cock slowly softened inside of her.

He planted a kiss on her cheek. "I love you, Mrs. Cake," he said, nuzzling into her shoulder.

She turned, and kissed his. "And I love you, Mister Cake," she said, and snuggled into his chest. They lay there, their breathing gently slowing, until both drifted to sleep.