Trixie - Day 6

Trixie walked alongside Jot, leading him along the path toward her wagon. Her heart was pounding in her chest, twinkles of exhilaration running down her hooves.

It had been some time since she’d been intimate with a stallion… years if she was honest with herself: she really couldn’t count her collection of COOLCO coolers and plastic phalluses. They certainly scratched the right spots, particularly during those bothersome heat seasons, but it really couldn’t compare to the real deal.

Here was a breathing, thinking, loving stallion… and even better, it was Jot!

The way her heart was fluttering reminded her of that first school dance she’d gone to, all those years ago. The school-filly crush she’d had on her date and how she’d giggled and tittered with each dance and innocent kiss. Those same happy bubbling emotions were in her now — she could feel the desire, the hope, that her admiration and affection for this stallion… might grow into something even more.

She liked his smile, his courage. He was handsome, funny, and gentle.

Too gentle.

She grinned to herself with a soft shake of her head. She’d had to lead this horse to water, marching him toward her wagon where a really magical performance would take place. Since they’d gotten moving she’d done her best to touch and prod him in every way possible: flicking her tail up and exposing glimpses of her backside, bumping her hip against his, flicking her mane against his neck, even swishing her tail up against the underside of his belly.

But he was still trotting along like a blushing fool, scared to make the first move.

It was cute.

Trixie liked cute. But she wanted more.

The pounding in her chest drove hot blood through her cheeks, as well as the rest of her body. She was acutely aware of herself, each touch of her mane on the nape of her neck, the small sheen of sweat building up on her undercoat, the fullness of her lips, the crackling energy built up in her horn.

And the plump, warm swell of her nethers.

It wasn’t at all like a heat-flush, with its insistent and annoying desire, its separation of the sexual body from the conscious mind. No, this arousal felt more like a total body experience, her adrenaline serving to heighten each nerve’s sensory experience, the lingering memory of the intimacy that she’d just shared leaving a physical yearning in her gut.

She wanted more. Needed more.

She looked at the blushing stallion with a predatory grin. He must want more too, no? Maybe he could smell it on her, sense her burning need? Surely, he wouldn’t mind if she… kicked things off?

Even as the thought entered her head, her horn ignited, the magical spell casting automatically in synch with her unrestrained impulse. She traced the purple kinetic field down the inside of Jot’s left barrel, slipping under his lower belly.

She bit her lip slightly as he blushed and made a goofy face, his eyes darting over at hers. Was that OK? Was she moving too fast?

But all she saw in his eyes was that same fiery excitement that was in herself. He shifted slightly, giving her more access to his lower region, not that he needed to do so, not with the skillful adroitness of her magic. But it was the signal of permission Trixie needed.

She shot him a smokey look of lust, then slid her magic down the taut, thinly-furred skin of his lower belly, searching for her prize. Kinetic magic was never the best at providing its user with the sensitive tactile feedback of an underhoof, nor the kinesthetic awareness of just where in space the field was.

But what she could feel was hot, smooth, stallion skin.

“Where is it…” she whispered under her breath, as she felt herself bump against the inside of Jot’s thigh, and reversed the direction of her field. She wondered if he was… small… It might explain why he was a bit more meek. She hadn’t ever really gotten a chance to inspect his stallionhood, not that a sheathe could tell you much about the organ within. She had seen his bits, of course, and they seemed quite impressive — a pair of black orbs, larger than any average pair you might see swinging between a stallion’s legs.

There! She had caught something fleshy in her field and carefully wrapped her magic around it. She noticed Jot throw his head back with a soft dipping of his eyelids. Bingo!

She played with the bump, a bit small for a sheathe, but still something that filled her field. She coaxed it, wrapping it in a warm magical embrace, eagerly awaiting the feel of stallionflesh growing under her ministrations, expanding, spilling out… her opportunity to make Jot as hot under the hood as she was…

But it never came. The bump remained the same size.

She squeezed again and saw Jot wince slightly. The fleshy lump already was a bit stiff. So this was his whole length? He was small. Thick, strangely shaped, heavy… but small. Trixie bit her lip and shook her head. It didn’t matter at all — she was glad it was him. Still, she felt that she needed to provide him with some encouragement; maybe this was why he was nervous.

“You weren’t worried about your… size… were you? This is just perfect.” She smiled at him lovingly.

Jot cocked his head slightly, confusion racing across his face. Had she said something wrong? Had she put her hoof in her mouth?

Then his eyes brightened with understanding, and he chuckled. “Umm… Trixie, that’s just one of my balls… pfft…”

“Oh!” Trixie blinked, the shape and size suddenly making a lot more sense to her. But that meant… that ball was actually big. Quite big.

She blushed with embarrassment at her misstep. But now she had a landmark. She slid her magical field along to the other ball, grasping both for good measure with a slight squeeze. “Oops. I know where I am now.” She grinned with a wink.

The field slid down his length. It was smooth, hot… and thick. She could feel the skin stretching as his erection grew in her magic. Her eyes widened as she continued to slide down with end, inch after inch… still going… another inch… she hadn’t even felt the bump of that medial ring yet!

Just how big was he!? The blush on her face grew deeper, and her mouth had filled with drool, making her swallow. Her nethers were drooling as well — a warm stickiness gracing the inside of her thighs. She’d never been a size-queen, but the thought of such a… monster… in her magic, excited her.

Finally, the ring — the halfway point! A few more inches and she found his flare, still soft and drooping toward the earth. This big, and he wasn’t even fully erect? She had to see.

Her eyes darted away from his face and looked underneath Jot.

A fifteen-inch, half-erect stallion cock bobbed there, drooping toward the earth. The base was a dark black sheen of flesh that was easily as thick as her foreleg, barely tapering through the mottled pink flesh of the massive coronal ridge, already drooling a clear strand of pre-cum.

“W-woah…” She breathed, her eyes racing back up to Jot, still smiling meekly and blushing. “W-wow Jot.”

“Wh-what?”

“What!?” Trixie scoffed with an eye roll. “Don’t play coy!” She grinned. “I just hope you’ll will fit.”

That got a laugh out of him. Finally, he was starting to loosen up, she could see he was starting to feel a bit more confident. She wrapped her magic around his semi-erect beast and tugged him forward, leading him by his cock. “Hurry up, stud.”

She wrapped around him more tightly, feeling the heat and throb of his body as she played with his heavy thickness, the field exploring every crevice and bump every vein.

“Mmm…” Jot moaned softly.

“F-feel… good?” Trixie huffed. She felt out of breath, the passion throbbing up within her, her throat swollen and aching with the increased saliva pouring down it. And her plot. Gods above her ache was growing unbearable — she could feel her inner lips fattening, spreading herself open, could feel the radiating heat of her nethers against the underside of her dock, flagging up in the air, showing her lust off to anypony behind her… a brief thought about just how abandoned this part of the park was at this time of day was quickly discarded.

She didn’t care, not now.

She felt Jot’s stallionhood strain and stretch upwards, as it filled with blood, twitching and jerking up against his belly with a meaty slap — adding more impossible inches to its previous length and girth. She’d seen pictures passed around the mares of Ponyville of the large red-coated earth pony farmer — he was famous for having a prodigious endowment. The illicit snaps were common clop-fodder for many of the girls in that town, herself included. And he was big.

But Jot was bigger.

As she slid her field over the fat, engorged knob at the end of his phallus, she tried to imagine just how she would fit such a thing into herself, or whether she even could. The ridge of his flare was wider than one of her rear hooves! She’d never even imagined attempting something half that size! Just imagine the stretch, the strain, as her pink lips slid over that dripping, huge… mmph!

A surge roiled through Trixie’s body, the shiver rolling down her spine and her taut, squeezing flanks, clenching her plump nethers and pushing her fattened love-bud peeking out of her lips, parting herself open… once, twice… then a third final time, complete with a thick dollop of clear squirting juice that noisily splattered onto the path.

She hadn’t winked like that since she was a teenager. She hoped he wouldn’t notice… as impossible as that was.

Her musk took only a half beat to fill her nostrils. A pungent lavender fog that she could sometimes extract after a more vigorous solo session. And Jot could smell it too. She watched as his nostrils flared wide, inhaling deep snuffs of her. It was a bit embarrassing — until his reaction.

“Oh, f-fuck Trixie…” Jot grunted and clenched his teeth, pausing in his stride, muscles bunching and tensing.

She felt his thick stallionhood throb and hop in her grasp, slapping up against his belly with two wet thwacks, as it released two clear jets of pre-ejaculate, hitting his lower ribcage then dripping to the ground below.

Now she could smell him.

Celestia’s mercy, what a cologne. The romance novels she perused always made her roll her eyes with how much the authors would play up the smell of a stallion in rut. Her own experiences were far from the swooning olfactory sensations those smutfics implied. Up until now, she’d always attributed it to over-zealous writing.

Not anymore.

She could taste Jot’s rich musk on her tongue, a spicy tang that made her swallow with desire. The aroma flooded her snout, nose flaring with excitement as his essence filled her lungs. It was so thick in the air — she could almost imagine it sticking to her fur. Her eyes darted to the little wet drops on the brick of the path, and she had to bite her lip to refrain from licking her mouth.

Her ache was bad now.

And despite her tugging, Jot was frozen in place, groaning, cock twitching against himself.

‘Buck it!’ Trixie glanced nervously behind her, the empty park trail of the late afternoon giving her the small surge of confidence she needed.

Taking a step off the path, Trixie walked right in front of Jot, flicking her tail up as high as she could, her dock straining with the exertion. She swatted the stallion’s nose with a flop of her tail, making his eyes shoot open in alarm. She grinned over her shoulder, pressing her shoulders down to the soft grass, a nice patch situated just behind some bushes, widening her rear stance a bit and sticking her plot as high up in the air as she could.

Her eyes never left Jot’s face, but his eyes were certainly directed elsewhere, glued to her ass… her rear suddenly felt very exposed, as if the stallion’s gaze itself warmed her quivering ponut and drooling, swollen marehood. And she loved it. She was a showmare at heart, after all.

With a waggle and a shake, she gave him a full show, grinding her ass against some invisible stallion… the invitation couldn’t be any clearer.

“Come on, Jot.”

Jot’s mouth hung open slightly; she could see the hot breath coming from his snout in little bursts as he fumed, turned, and approached her. His heavy, powerful hooves clacked off of the brick then dug into the grass, sending little shivers of excitement through Trixie’s body. Jot’s body, posture, bearing… the meekness was burning away, leaving a strong animal of a breeding stud behind.

Her stud, here to fuck her.

Jot reared up, and she saw it, in all its glory. She might not be a size queen, but Gods did that thing excite her. The thick, ebony log of stallion-sausage proudly sprang from his groin, a log of horseflesh perched above a pair of massive, dangling black balls that swung low with his excitement. The considerable thickness of his base stunned her, replete with throbbing veins and a pronounced ventral bulge running up from its throbbing black base, under the grotesquely thick medial ring, and up to his massive cockhead. His girth tapered only slightly as the shiny black flesh transitioned to a pink-speckled color… That fat pink flare was plastered against his belly; the saucer plate-sized head punctuated by a smooth dome, ringed with a knobby flare… and right in the middle was a swollen circular cockslit, drooling with steaming stallion juice.

That thing would destroy her... Gods did she ever want it to.

“Trixie…” Jot moaned, balancing on his hind legs and stepping forward.

She braced herself, clenching her eyes closed, felt her pussy wink and strain to open itself as much as possible — to prepare itself for the massive undertaking it was about to endure. Then she felt it.

The heavy weight slapped down over the top of her ass, resting on the small of her back. He’d laid his giant pipe on her back! The hot mass slid along the delicate fur of her pert rear, his flesh sliding against the side of her sensitive dock, leaving a snail trail of stallion pre along the small of her spine… sliding down, down, down… reaching halfway up her body!

Finally, she felt her humid tailhole kiss against the underside of his cock, felt his heavy balls swing against her parted pink flesh with a wet splotchy impact, felt the bump of his hip bones against her glutes.

‘Celestia he’s so bucking big!’ Trixie mewled slightly, wiggling her hips, equally relieved and sad that her stud hadn’t speared her, stretched her, fucked her… the delicate teasing touch of her boiling pink lips against his balls and the alien feel of her swollen ponut against his groin were a poor consolation prize, as the horny mare pushed back into him.

“F-fuck, Jot…” Trixie moaned into the grass, her clit slipping out to deliver a sticky kiss to his sack, as she bounced backward with small, plaintive, humping thrusts.

The stallion only groaned in response, hooves gripping either side of her moving hips. No doubt he was steadying himself, grinding his sensitive cock against the fur of her middle-back, making it stick and sloppy.

Her dock kept bumping against his hot base, her wagging tail pressing against his girth as the two ponies ground on each other just off one of Manehattan’s park trails. She wanted to wrap herself around his pleasure, his lust… but she couldn’t summon the focus to conjure the challenging kinetic field, not while she was pumping backward with abandon.

So she used her tail to channel that magical energy instead.

With a little burst of thaumic kinesis, her hair wrapped around Jot’s meaty cock, wrapping him up in her silky blue tail… once, twice, three times encapsulating and gripping him squeezing his fat penis against her.

“Oh… Trixie!” Jot pushed against her with each stroke of her tail grip, heavy balls swinging against her plot, wet slaps of flesh on flesh as his hooves dug deeper into her flesh.

Her ache was sharp now, drooling heat radiating from her winking pussy, begging to be filled. She channeled that frustration into her tail grip, squeezing and milking Jot’s shaft, gossamer hairs becoming soaked with the pungent stallion pre-cum.

Faster. Faster!

Trixie groaned and pressed her nose into the earth, stroking and humping with more speed, partly because she wanted to please Jot, partly because in a futile effort to slake her ache with the grind of pussy and ponut against her stud’s body. On one pump her engorged clit winked out at just the right time, jamming against Jot’s sack, bending it sideways and sending a bolt of pleasure through her.

‘Oh, Fuck!’ Trixie moaned, a ripple coursing through her, fireworks of energy popping like rockets of pleasure, each burst setting off more ripples that cascaded from her gut… right into her clenching cunt. Her guts twisted and shifted with the orgasm, rolling and rocking through her as her brain boiled in the release of pleasure.

“Mmmm!” A grunt was all her mouth could manage, though her marehood managed to soak her lover’s thighs with a spray of nectar.

“Oh… oh fuck! I’m going to — !” Her ears flicked back at Jot’s warning. She felt a massive pulse through the stallion’s cock, straining and expanding her wrapped tail, pulling at the hair as his already terrifying girth throbbed wider, as his heavy pink cockhead twitched and flared on her back, digging into her spine. His grind pressed deeper against her, holding against her, she felt his balls slide up, retracting against him, digging into her sopping pussy. A thick globular mixture of stallion-batter and precum drooled out of his slit onto her back, forced out by the pressure of the enormous release just behind it.

But she didn’t want him to cum. Not yet. Not on her.

She wanted that load inside her.

With a flare of magic, she tensed her tail hairs, channeling an inhibitor spell down the gossamer strands, clenching against his base, cutting off his orgasm, jamming him, leaving him desperately full — unable to release, Like a dam about to burst.

“Oh…. f-fuUCK!” her poor stud moaned from behind her. Throb after throb of his orgasm restrained, intensified, sent back in a cascading feedback loop into his guts, his heart, his mind… All he could do as his flared cock jumped and expanded pitifully was moan and dig his hooves into her flanks, his grip making her ache so good. She felt his balls descend again, thicker, heavier… filled with all the lust energy and the additional wave of her restraining magic, huge orange-sized orbs sinking to her thigh with painful sexual tension.

She almost felt guilty. Almost.

She wanted that inside her.

“G-gaaaahh….” Jot’s breath came back to him, panting and heaving as the interrupted orgasm’s feedback waves slowly bled out of him. “T-Trixie… please...” his deep voice came with a wash of hot air across the back of her neck.

“I want you to cum inside me.” Trixie cooed, hoping for forgiveness. But all she could feel was his hot breath pouring over her back with heavy snort after snort. She turned to look at him.

There was no meekness left in her gentlecolt.

There wasn’t even a stallion there anymore.

Every muscle on his body bulged with definition, his whole barrel heaving with powerful snorts, drawing in great breaths of oxygen to fuel his furnace of a metabolism. His jaw was set forward, clicked in place… and his eyes were… wild… feral. He looked at her like a hungry manticore eyeing a lamb.

Prey.

She swallowed with fear.

The beast’s massive cock strained off of her back, pulling free of her ensnaring tail hair. But it didn’t subside at all from its engorged orgasmic state. Eighteen… nineteen inches? She’d never been one for measurements; she just knew this was no pony-cock… this was like something out of a biology textbook showing the size difference of the feral horse-ancestors of modern ponykind. The cock of an animal.

And that snorting, stomping, feral horse in rut was going to breed her. To fuck her.

She swallowed nervously and gave a little chuckle, eyes unable to unglue from the melon-sized pink flare, which drooled a steady stream of thick, clear pre-cum.

“E-easy…. Easy Jot.” She mewled. She only got an angry snort in response. Then a whinny: rumbling bass that shook her with its power. Commanded her.

She couldn’t help but stick her ass higher in the air, just like a broodmare on the ancient plains, ready to be taken.

“O-oh f-fuck…”

Author's Notes:

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