[Spitfire] Something Sweet, Something Lewd

>There are certain ways to wake up in the morning that are absolutely delightful.
>The slow, steady warmth of summer air surrounding you.
>The smell of breakfast being cooked.
>An early-morning blowie.
>All wonderful.
>But a bit of sunlight to the eye is none of those things.
“Christ.”
>You flinch and hiss under your breath, bringing your hand up to cover your face from the illustrious intruder.
>Your world descends back into relative darkness but it’s already too late; you’re awake and that means the day has begun.
>Still, maybe you can catch another five to ten minutes of shut-eye and
>“Hmmf.”
>A sudden pressure against your chest shatters any hope of sneaking back to bed.
>Daring to crack open your un-blinded eye, you glance down at your sheet mate and see that her sleep-filled gaze is already locked onto your face.
>Her lips part with a dull smack before smiles up at you.
>“Good morning, dear.”
>Even her strangled morning voice sounds sweetly strained.
>By the time you realize what you’re doing, it’s already too late to stop.
>So you just go ahead and plant a kiss on the top of her head, burying part of your face in the mare’s cinnamon-scented mane.
“Morning to you too, little fireball.”
>Spitfire squirms against your affections, a throaty chuckle rumbling through her body as you tighten your arms around her middle.
>“Are you going to let me up?”
“Should I?”
>“You should.”
>You grunt in response, not exactly convinced by the response.
>After a few seconds, the golden mare begins to squirm against the mattress, flexing her legs and stretching her body.
>“Alright, time to get up. I’ve got to be landing on the tarmac in forty.”
>A compelling argument to start the day.
>Unfortunately for her, you’ve got one better.



“Nah, that’s not important.”
>Spitfire laughs again.
>“It’s my job.”
>Nuzzling your face against her mane, you move higher and whisper in a low but firm voice that tickles the sensitive hairs around her ear.
“And I’m your spouse.”
>The mare makes a low, satisfied sound, a bit of her tail flicking against your nearly nude thigh.
>Before she can come up with an adequate response, you add
“Besides, you don’t really want to go out there and face the chilly autumn air, do you?”
>You both glance toward the window, and you have to move your head again to avoid getting blinded again by some of the light peeking through the curtains.
>The leaves outside give a dry, heavy rustle, like seasonal wind chimes created to lull people back to sleep.
>Spitfire sighs, stopping her squirming for a moment.
>“But there’s a mountain of recruit files that I need to go over today.”
>Planting a kiss behind her ear, you smile as she gently groans.
“That’s boring.”
>“It’s my job.”
>The old standby, although somewhat less enthused than the last time.
>Your fingers drag over her belly, causing the Wonderbolt Captain’s body to tighten at your touch.
>She trembles for a moment, not even breathing until it rushes out all at once in a thunderous trembling.
>“We shouldn’t.”
>Her voice is uncertain and wavering as you begin to pepper kisses around her ear again.
>As you proceed to love on her, Spitfire starts squirming again.
>However, instead of trying to pull herself free, she begins to work spine against your chest, shimmying downward.
>You slide your arms down with her descending body, making sure to keep a good grip on the mare in case this is all some ploy to slip away.


>It quickly becomes apparent that it isn’t, as Spitfire places her haunches against your thighs.
>Your mind snaps out of the fog of sleep as the heated sensation seeps through your legs.
>Is it really that time of year already?
>A quick glance down at your spouse confirms in an instant what you suspected.
>Spitfire’s head is tilted back so that she can look up at you.
>Face flush, her breathing short, and her sharp, orange eyes dulled with a purely needy arousal.
>“Dearest.”
>Her voice, still sweetly strained, has lost the tired, throaty sound from before.
>“Why do you tempt me like this? I have so much work to do.”
>You manage a smirk and shift your kisses from her ears to her face.
“Maybe I just want to spend more time doting on my wife.”
>Spitfire groans in approval, pressing her flank more firmly against your thighs.
>You can feel the slight, hungry motions of her nethers groping blindly for something to latch onto through the thin fabric of your bed-shorts.
>“If that’s all it is, you could just ask. We could leave the children with my mother one weekend, or we could all go out together. We don’t need-”
>A firm kiss on the lips is all it takes for her rambling to turn to a gentle moan as she begins to melt against your body.
>The mare’s wings twitch, her feather’s tickling your middle as you hold her close.
>While she’s still drunk off the affection, you bump your nose against her snout and smile.
“A weekend isn’t nearly enough time. I’m going to need to give you weeks, maybe months, of sincere attention.”
>Your words hang in the air for a long while as Spitfire struggles to catch her breath.
>“Please.”
>She finally whispers.
>“Don’t make it sound so appetizing.”
“I don’t really think I have to do anything.”
>Your smile changes to a smirk as you squirm your lower body a little.
>Spitfire’s needy gaze flutters for an instant as she feels the heat of your shaft press against her bare backside.


“I think that you’re already ready.”
>“But two is already so much work.”
>The mare’s attempt at a complaint is undermined by the fact that she’s dragging her lower lips against the tip of your dick, shuddering as the cotton covering crosses her pony pussy.
>“And I’ve just started to work off some of the weight from our second.”
>True.
>You shift your hands and grab a little bit of pudge around her belly and her flank for emphasis, causing Spitfire to whimper.
>“You don’t really want me to be a big, grounded b-”
>Her voice cracks a little.
>She swallows and wets her lips before stuttering and stumbling through the next word
>“Broodmare, do you?”
>The conversation goes quiet.
>In the stillness of the room, you can hear her breathing.
>It’s fast and sharp, strong and needy.
>Once again, her eyes are fixed on you, waiting to hear your response.
>With a sigh, you remove your hand from her flank and put in on your hip.
>Spitfire’s eyes flutter a few times as she begins to process the absence of your palm, and you see something in her expression change.
>But as she opens her mouth, she freezes, feeling the naked heat of the tip of your cock pressed against her cooch.
>She shudders, her eyes alight with excitement even as she whispers
>“No.”
>You respond in kind, with a kiss and a whisper.
“Yes.”
>A smile on her face begins to spread as her nethers begin to pulse with the beat of her heart; eager, open, inviting.
>“I, I’m Captain of the Wonderbolts.”
>Her attempt at a protest melts away with another press of the lips.
“And my wife.”
>As you slide your head inside her, she whimpers.
>“But, the uniforms aren’t fitted for pregnant ponies.”
“Then I guess you’ll be out of uniform for a while.”
>Spitfire moans as you slide deeper into her.
>The muscular walls of her snatch begin to flex around your dick, milking it even as she comes up with another excuse.


>“Darling, I have to stay in shape.”
>Cradling her still soft stomach, you smirk and rub your cheek against hers.
“Then I’ll give you a new shape; one that oozes motherly appeal.”
>With a helpless whimper, Spitfire squirms her haunches down towards your hips.
>“You, you’re really going to turn me into a foal factory?”
“Is that a problem?”
>The mare shudders as your fingers toy with the tip of her ear.
>Her eyes meet yours and she smiles.
>“No. It’s exactly what I need. Breed me.”
>That’s really all you need to hear.
>With one arm around her belly and a hand at her flank, you hilt yourself inside the yellow mare.
>She gives a quiet squeal, her perky pony anus pulsing as it rests on top of your pelvis.
>The internal milking sensation intensifies, an already breathless Spitfire whimpering as you pull out, only to whine as you hit home again.
>Things move at a relatively brisk pace as you quickly begin to pick up speed, leaving the already-mother of two a squirmy mess as she orgasms.
“Such a sensitive mare. How do you get so tense that you have a hair trigger?”
>Despite the loving tone, you can’t help but throw a bit of vinegar into your voice to tease her.
>It works like a charm, earning you a playful glare from your wife.
>“Dealing with my teammates of course.”
“Sounds like you could use a break.”
>Spitfire gives a small hum of approval.
>Well, she tries to, but the fact that you’re pounding away at her causes it to become a prolonged sound of delight.
“Careful, you’ll wake the children.”
>Somehow the red across her face deepens and she brings a hoof to her mouth.
>Not that you think it will help much.
>After a few more minutes of pounding, and another small orgasm for Spitfire, she glances back at you.


>“Please.”
>Any sense of teasing has left the mare’s voice, as has the somewhat harsh voice she generally uses, replaced instead with a foreign lilt.
>It’s pretty clear that she’s ready to have her snatch sealed shut.
>But you’re not quite ready.
>Not yet.
“Please what?”
>Spitfire gulps, looking up at you with shining, eager eyes.
>“Please, give me a foal.”
>In that moment she looks like the eager young mare you bedded all those years ago.
>That’s cute.
>That’s really cute.
>But she isn’t that fresh young thing anymore, and neither are you for that matter.
>No, now you’re looking for something different.
>Leaning in close, you pepper her face with kisses, working your way back up to her ear.
>Spitfire moans under your attention, trying to coax your seed out of her before you arrive at your destination, but to no avail.
>Wetting your lips, you whisper into her ear.
“I want to, believe me I do. I’m really about to pop.”
>For emphasis, you slow your thrusts, focusing now on deep, powerful penetration.
>Spitfire gasps at the change in motion.
“But, you want more than just a foal, right?”
>The mare whimpers, shooting you a sidelong glance.
>It’s uncertain, but excited, and that just encourages you more.
“Tell me what you really want, okay?”
>As you continue to rattle her womb with each push inside her, the breathless Captain chokes out
>“I want another foal, I do. But, I want more too. Oh stars, so many more.”
>The wavering in her voice begins to fade, those bright orange eyes gleaming with anticipation.

>“Enough that we can field a whole flight team. Enough that I have to keep a different suit around for every month of my pregnancies.”
>The thought of the already squeaky fabric creaking around Spitfire’s swollen form is enough to encourage you to pound her pony pussy that much harder.
>You would have been glad to blow your load just to that, but somehow she spirals even higher.
>“Enough that when I do photo shoots I start a trend for mature-looking, fit, filled-out pegasus mares. But more than all of that, I want to be your broodmare!”
>Too much.
>This mare really is too much.
>Gripping her strong, soft body tight, you feel your lower body clench and bury your dick deep inside her.
>Spitfire cries out as the first splash of spunk surges inside her eager womb, the hungry walls of her snatch tugging ever more against your shaft as you orgasm together.
>Seconds stretch on into eternity as the little pony’s baby room is flooded with your seed.
>The two of you linger in the afterglow, holding one another however you can, and drift back and forth between moments of lucidity.
>It’s only the eventual squeal of a delighted child that rouses you from the pleasant place.
“Sounds like he’s up.”
>“Mhmm.”
>It’s the best your wife can manage, still dazed and exhausted as she is.
>Chuckling, you untangle yourself from her and wrap her tight in the sheets.
>The mare sinks a little deeper into the bed, mumbling to herself as you go to the bathroom to rinse off and get changed before attending to your children.

>The three of you are around the breakfast table when Spitfire finally wobbles downstairs.
>You flash her a smile.
“Morning dear.”
>Spitfire does the same, her wings fluttering as she rises up and gives you a quick peck on the nose.
>“Good morning, Sötnos.”
>She briefly dotes on the children, giving them morning kisses and nuzzles before trotting towards the door.
>“I slept in this morning, so I’ll be back late tonight.”
>You frown and raise an eyebrow.
“No breakfast?”
>“No time.”
“What about lunch?”
>The mare with the fiery mane pauses, glancing over her shoulder and smirking at you.
>“I wouldn’t worry about me; my belly is good and full.”
>Both of you share a knowing smile before she heads out the door.
>Leaving you to another day of excitement with the children.
>And the excitement of a very eager wifey coming home tonight.
>Such is life in the Spitfire family household.