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*Part 1: Pregnant Rarity, Prehensile Tail, Angry Sex*
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The lights are off when you finally get home, performing the ritual key jiggling required to enter your low-rent apartment. You try awkwardly and silently to remove your coat without taking off your bag, finally placing it on the coat rack alongside a few of your lighter jackets and her saddles. The twelve hour shift you just wrapped up has you hanging your head, and you slip a messenger bag full of work related papers and mail you picked up on your way into the building off of your shoulders and onto the kitchen table. Slouching down in one of the chairs, you struggle wearily with the envelopes filled with bills and junk mail. It's going to take an hour of sifting through them and balancing a checkbook before you can even think of bed, and it'll only be worse when the baby arrives.

This thought inspires a cautious glance down the windowless and dark hallway to where the bedroom door hangs slightly ajar. You wonder how she's doing, regretting the lack of time you two have spent together over the last few months. When things started, they seemed so fun...but as the rigors of time spent in close proximity have taken their toll, you've had your share of fights, arguments, and half-hearted concessions. You're not sure when it happened, but marriage quickly lost its appeal.

A bit distracted from your evening chore, you get up and anxiously wander the room. It’s been a while since you had fun; a while since you got to sit down and laugh like you used to. Your hand reaches out, unconsciously touching a plastered spot on the wall that you were slammed into the first time an argument got physical. Your face twists a bit, a mask of disappointment with yourself and her at the memory of it. Next to the patched up reminder is a shelf filled with both of your things, attentively dusted by her. Pictures of her and her friends, her sister, and you adorn one half while your side is entirely barren. As you reach out to pick up a picture it slips and you fumble with it, making no small amount of noise. Embarrassed, you try to set it right, worried for some reason that someone will notice it being out of place.

A sound from the hallway draws your attention. Steady, heavy hoof falls bring her into view. Even roused from bed, there's a beauty about her. Her hair isn't as messy as one would expect and her eyes - even in the dark - don't carry the look of someone who just woke up. You can imagine she's been awake and waiting for you for some time. Sheepishly, you wonder why you've snuck into your own home, and whether or not it was truly consideration for her that made you afraid to attract her attention. Her lovely purple mane frames her face - partially covering those azure eyes in the dark room - making it hard to gauge her expression. As she speaks, the tone of her voice conveys her mood well enough.

“I thought you were going to be home earlier tonight? What sort of man did I marry?”
You try to mumble an excuse, but it's cut short

“Planning to leave me up waiting all night again? It's terribly improper to test a lady’s patience you know. Oh the things I could be out doing all day long, but I'm here in this house - and just why do you think that is?”
Her head tilts down, drawing your attention to her swollen stomach and widened hips.
The cause of both of your stress lies curled in her womb. Your long hours, her fear of leaving the house, it all comes back to the same thing. It's the cause of so many things. You can feel it, and so can she.

“Oh darling I know it's not easy to work all day, but I haven't a soul to talk to! It's simply criminal, like being locked in some dungeon, waiting all day to be liberated by a conversation that might very well not be coming. How would that make you feel?”
Feelings aren't your strong suit. They never have been. Your eyes wander from her gaze, wishing this conversation could be over. It isn't. She positions herself in your field of vision again, this time closer to you. Her voice rises.

“Oh come now! Look at me. LOOK AT ME when I talk to you! Honestly, the nerve! I've waited ALL DAY for months now. You can't come home and give me anything, can you? What did you bring home? More empty promises!? Or more of these?”
Her tail slaps the table behind her with perfect control and strength, scattering the bills around the room. Your shoulders tense at the suddenness of it, the atmosphere in the room growing more intense. You push her aside, tired of the silliness, tired of the bills, tired of the fighting, tired of it all, and you bend to scoop the letters up. Behind you, you hear a frustrated whinny.

“What are you DOING?! I am trying to talk to you.”
A none too gentle bump of her nose as you bend to pick up the bills sends you off balance, and you catch yourself with your spare arm, resorting to landing on your side. You're past irritated now. You steele yourself as she comes toward you, bringing her weight to bear on your torso. Despite your strength, her weight and the angle you're lying at make resistance impossible. She brings you to the ground and pins your shoulders with her hooves. Something wet touches your cheek.

She's crying. Quiet, no sobs, no shaking. Just tears.

“All day, I wait for you. WE wait for you. Will it always be like this? I have needs, I want to be seen! So much time spent every day on this hair, this coat, these hooves. What good is it all, if I'm to be in here forever, and you're to be out there forever?”
You reach an arm up, touching her cheek, your anger subsiding. She leans in, and you share a brief kiss. She tastes of minty toothpaste, obviously having meant to go to bed hours ago. You can't imagine tasting much better, having fueled yourself on coffee since the early morning.

“It's just... oh dear. Oh MY. You smell like out there... You taste like out there... Why? Why is it so unfair?”
You try to quiet her down with another kiss, but she pushes you back down, hooves back on your shoulders.

“It's not FAIR! You've so much energy all day long, and none left for me when you get home. Am I to clean the same four shelves all day, read the same three magazines? Give me something... give me...”

Her nose is close to your face now, breath hot and trickling down your neck.

“Give me anything.”
You hear a zipping noise, and look down. Her tail has already gotten your jeans down after worming its way around her ample belly and is now hard at work on your belt. Seeing where this is going, and not having the energy for it, you try to maneuver your arms around, but it's no use. They're well and truly pinned.

“Give me what you save up all day. Don't waste it on some five minute bout of pleasure while I'm asleep... You have me. You have the most lovely unicorn in all of Equestria.”
Your belt is now undone, the jeans unbuttoned. She relents from pinning you long enough to get her teeth around the hem of your jeans, tugging and pulling, pitifully maneuvering her normally graceful figure on the floor, off balance by the near-eight months of love you've shared. Between your wriggling to get away and her pulling, she finally succeeds. Your head hits the wall with a loud thump. She's springing back onto you now.

She sits, positioning herself on your lap. Slowly, with a grinding motion to her hips, she strokes your manhood with her lower lips. Each time she rises, a small sticky residue glistens in the low light of the room, and she leans in to deliver a brief kiss before returning to her rhythmic motions. Wanted or not, you're getting hard from the constant stimulation. She's well aware of it too, and picks up her pace.

“That's it darling -nnf. Come now, show me how much you care. Show me what it is you want. Do you want it like I want it? Nfffff. Like I've wanted it all these past months?”
Your arms reach out to stroke her sides, but she doesn't trust you to let her take things all the way. Her ample locks of perfectly groomed hair wrap around your hands, and pin them to the wall behind you. Now with her face closer than ever, she begins to lap at your lips, pressing them apart, working her tongue inside, rubbing around your teeth and pressing against your tongue. She leans out again, and you feel her tail wrap around your legs.

Rising up, she works her way down your body, hot tongue leaving trails of wetness down your torso. She arrives at your cock, now hard and throbbing from the constant attention. In moments, she's working it expertly, your time together having taught her every special spot in the area. Her hooves stroke your testes and the inside of your thighs as her muzzle bobs up and down, working its warmth up and down the slickening pole. You get up to push her off, to take control, finally ready for action, but she misinterprets.

“No!”

With a loud whinny, she whips her body around, tail wrapping around both arms and pinning them to your chest. Her hair has one of your kicking legs, the other flailing awkwardly around, and with much effort she manages to work herself quickly onto your dick.

“This... nfff.. is mine tonight! Mine! MINE!”
With the last cry, she slams herself down forcefully, taking the entire saliva soaked shaft into her warm womanhood. Both of you cry out in pleasure at the sudden filling sensation. You jerk up involuntarily, and clumsily bump into her back, her restraint on your hands at last spent by the suddenness of the invasion. You regain your composure first. You shove her roughly onto her hooves again. She begins to whimper, fearing the rejection, and then cries out in surprise as you thrust into her again.

“Mindful of the bab-iiiieeee” she cries out as you slide out to the tip and thrust back in, each pounding sending tremors through her flanks. You reach under her, hands wrapped around her swollen belly. Each thrust gives it a playful bounce, slamming in and out and driving her forward until her ear is pressed against the carpet. Her forelegs buckle, fetlocks touching her chest, shank and hock hiked high into the air as you lift her, pounding harder as you increase your rhythm.

The warmth of her womanhood is incredible. She grips as hard as she can each time you pull out, making the press back in tight and stimulating. Her muscles spasm around you and relax momentarily, and you can tell she's already cum. Fatigue takes your tired arms and you set her back on the ground, still humping her into the carpet, now with your chest on her back, feeling the warmth of her body under yours. She protests, rolling onto her side to protect the precious package in her womb.

Carefully, you hike up her left leg, gripping her by the shank and thrusting back in at an angle. Her cries of concern turn to moans of pleasure, hooves trying to navigate the awkward angle to play with her clit. You oblige her, spare hand reaching where she can't, and tease at the pink love button. She responds by tightening around you. It's all you can do not to cry out at the sudden tightness, but your mute role in this night's love making goes on unbroken as she whips her tail into your mouth, crying out “Bite down! Bite down on meeeeeeeeYYYYEEEEES.”
You continue to work at her, her legs kicking in pleasure, clawing at the carpet in a most unladylike fashion. You're certain she's chipped a hoof at this point, if not two of them, but you say nothing as she twists her neck in vain to catch a glimpse of the source of all her pleasure. Eventually she settles for burying her face in her hooves, trying to stifle her loud moans.

Your stamina begins to run its course, sweat and her juices streaming down your body. Your shirt is covered in both at this point, clinging to you like a second skin. Gritting your teeth around her tail, you finally reach your climax, juices pouring into her love tunnel. Her body heaves as she tightens around you, feeling the warmth spreading within her, determined to cum again with you. A shudder rocks her body, and her wish is granted; her muscles relax and you pull out of her, flopping down beside her as her body heaves with the effort you've both undertaken. Her swollen stomach rises and falls quickly, and she's panting on her side. You look lustfully at the pony you've been neglecting so much recently. You can feel hardness returning between your legs already. She feels it against her back.

“A-again? Maybe... just a minute... a glass of water... I'm so terribly thirsty... can I have a glass of-”

She's cut off as your mouth meets hers, your wet tongue working its way into her dry mouth. You roll her onto her back, straddling her gently. Your hands rub across her stomach and up her chest, finally cupping her chin as you continue your kiss. She works her legs around your waist as you work your way gently on top of her, minding not to put your weight onto her precious tummy. Your erect member slaps against it by accident, and the feeling is akin to rubbing up against a taut, swollen drum. Both of you look down, and she tries to shake her head as your hands leave her chin and begin to rub over the tightness of that spot. As she reclines on her back sighing at the sensation, your tongue covers every inch of her swollen body. Your hands grip above her flanks, meaty sides abundant there. She whinnies in protest; you know that gripping her love handles makes her feel fat, but you don't care. She apparently feels the same. Desire outweighing argument, her tail twists playfully around your feet and slips in between your toes. After the performance you just gave, a small allowance to explore her body in the dark is deserved.

And explore you do.