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"https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/1414/1414960_Derpdoop_1364948029.derp-doop_ain_t_no_party.jpg", "thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/1414/1414960_Derpdoop_1364948029.derp-doop_ain_t_no_party.jpg", "thumb_huge_x": "200", "thumb_huge_y": "200", "thumb_large_x": "200", "thumb_large_y": "200", "thumb_medium_x": "120", "thumb_medium_y": "120" } ], "pools": [], "description": "One of two older stories I'm placing on here for the sake of making this account more of a complete compendium for my writing endeavours. They're pretty old, and I think my writing's improved since I wrote either of those, so take them with a pinch of salt. Still, I hope people find them fun! \n\nThis one involves, you guessed it, Pinkie Pie of MLP! This was an old request, but very fun to do, partially because with the comic relief that Pinkie provides, it was easy and within the boundaries of sense for me to have some fun, meta-level narrative experimentation in the mix. \n\nAs for the plot, all there is to say is that Pinkie comes home unexpectedly, only to find an even MORE unexpected surprise at Sugarcube Corner. Though not an unwelcome surprise at all. \n\nEnjoy, and as always, I happily invite constructive critique. Think you'd like a story of your own? Shoot me a request in a PM and maybe we can work something out. ^^ ", "description_bbcode_parsed": "One of two older stories I'm placing on here for the sake of making this account more of a complete compendium for my writing endeavours. They're pretty old, and I think my writing's improved since I wrote either of those, so take them with a pinch of salt. Still, I hope people find them fun!

This one involves, you guessed it, Pinkie Pie of MLP! This was an old request, but very fun to do, partially because with the comic relief that Pinkie provides, it was easy and within the boundaries of sense for me to have some fun, meta-level narrative experimentation in the mix.

As for the plot, all there is to say is that Pinkie comes home unexpectedly, only to find an even MORE unexpected surprise at Sugarcube Corner. Though not an unwelcome surprise at all.

Enjoy, and as always, I happily invite constructive critique. Think you'd like a story of your own? Shoot me a request in a PM and maybe we can work something out. ^^ ", "writing": "Ain’t No Party…\n\nPinkie Pie was feeling glum. How could she have screwed up this badly? Of all the things that could possibly happen, this was the WORST, POSSIBLE, THI-\n\nWait, that wasn’t her line! And she supposed that it wasn’t in fact the worst possible thing; just a really bad oopsie on her part. Still, Mrs Cake was gonna be maaaaad! All the poor pink pony could do to express her trepidation about breaking the bad news was to bite her lip and nervously kick her legs against the seat in front of her own, where unbeknownst to her a mustachioed stallion was finding himself decreasingly invested in the Equestria Daily newspaper in his hands, and increasingly aggravated by the detestable irregular impacts felt through the back of his seat. \n\nIn about the same time it took for him to ready a stern word of warning to what he theorised was a child or bratty teen sat in the row behind him, the kicking abruptly stopped. Convenient for him, though he mentally admitted, inconvenient for his un-sated sense of cathartic closure. \n\nHad he gone ahead with his intended motion of twisting in his seat to peer around it to whoever sat there, he might have found his tongue abruptly stilled by the sight of a curly haired, busty, beautiful and adorably nervous looking filly that awaited him. And the last thing he needed, for reasons that this story isn’t going to elaborate on for the sake of pacing, was blue balls. So, all for the best, ultimately. \n\nHaving decided that chewing her fingernails might be a better strategy of calming her nerves than kicking the seat, Pinkie Pie was now sat almost too still for comfort to the eye of any observer familiar with the hyperactive party pony. Her horizontally striped yellow and blue thigh high stockings matched the pattern of the cute, tight t-shirt she wore, with bright red elastic braces running past both shoulders and down over the generous swell of her bust, latching onto the belt holes around the upper hem of the pink flirt skirt adorning her waist. Even the subtle comfort stemming from wearing her favourite panties, emblazoned as they were with her own cutie mark right in the centre, did nothing to help her mood. Why am I talking about Pinkie’s underwear? Maybe it’s relevant to the story. Where’d she get such a specific garment? Maybe she commissioned Rarity for them, and maybe it was super awkward for them both for a couple weeks after that. Why go into such detail on her underwear? Because there’s gonna be sex in this story, now shuddup! \n\nAs the train chugged along towards its’ final destination of Ponyville, the seconds ticked by, each one denying Pinkie of an excuse for her attempted and failed cake delivery in Baltimare. Although, a more accurate description of the events that now caused her to perspire while the train pulled into Ponyville Train Station would have replaced ‘attempted’ with ‘dropped’, ‘failed’ with ‘run over’, and ‘delivery’ with ‘catastrophe’. \n\nWhat in Equestria was she going to do?! Sugarcube Corner was incredibly busy with Hearts and Hooves Day coming up, and with tall orders to fill at the shop and Mr Cake away at the Annual Baker’s Conference, the cornered couple had been forced to rely on their undoubtedly motivated, but less than careful assistant to make this long haul delivery. It wasn’t her fault though! She tried to be careful and cautious and all those other appropriate c words, but everything was fine until she tripped over that stupid rock and tossed the stupid cake into the stupid middle of the stupid road, only to watch in horror as the stupid Baltimare Marathon ran through the road, followed by the stupid float parade, and Celestia knows what else after she ran away bawling down the street. Now she was going to have to fess up to Mrs Cake, or make up some phony silly excuse, or sneak into the kitchen to re-make the cake herself, or, or…\n\n“Um, Ms. Pie? ‘Scuse me, Ms. Pie?” Came a booming Irish voice beside her. \n\n“Huh, wha, when?!” A startled Pinkie Pie mumbled out as she came back to reality.\n\n“Um, we’ve reached our final stop, Ma’am. Yer gonna hafte leave the train now, I’m afraid.” The train conductor replied. How long Pinkie had been lost in her own nervous thoughts was unclear, but judging by his tone, long enough that he must’ve noticed her reluctance to rise from her seat, especially as upon a look around the carriage, Pinkie discovered she was the only passenger left. \n\n“Oh, uh, right. Sorry.” Pinkie apologized with an awkward grin, getting up from her seat. She didn’t bat an eyelid at the conductor knowing her name; everyone in Ponyville knew Pinkie Pie. Or at the very least, they knew her for her parties. But short of an impromptu party for two on the train, Pinkie still found herself in want of an excuse not to trudge her sorry self over to Sugarcube Corner to deliver the bad news. \n\n“Well now, you must not be having a bonnie day with a look like that on yer face.” The stallion said as he walked her out of the carriage, guiding her down from the doorway at the end of the corridor down onto the platform with a courteous hand. Pinkie cracked a momentary smile at his gentlemanly conduct, the likes of which was quickly swiped away as she caught sight of Sugarcube Corner just down the road from the station. “What in the hay’s wiped the smile from the lovely Ms. Pie’s face an a sunny day like this ‘un?” That was the problem with being the most popular party pony in Ponyville; if Pinkie of all ponies was glum, it got noticed.\n\nThe filly just sighed as she turned to reluctantly walk her own private little green mile to the shop that seemed to now mock her with the very sugary sweetness that normally made her feel so at home. “Lets’ just say, unless there’s a surprise party waiting for me for once at Sugarcube Corner, this day’s not too bonnie for Pinkie right now.” You could almost hear the violins. Or, on closer expection, you could, but the reasons which had brought the Canterlot Philharmonic to Ponyville Train Station at that precise and atmospherically convenient moment will remain a mystery for the ages, or at least for the next 4,900 words or so. \n\n“Mrs Cake? You in there?” Came the hushed but ever squeaky voice of Pinkie Pie around the tiniest edge of opening in the doorway. Fruitless as her ridiculously hesitant entrance was, it did raise Pinkie’s hopes a little that perhaps she could still sneak into the kitchen, toss something together and leave before Mrs Cake ever knew she was there. Though said hopes were dashed as she pushed the door open further, sliding in just as the top edge of the door struck the tiny bell dangling just overhead, sending the pendulum swinging to create a cheerful metallic chirp that signaled her entrance. Pinkie cowered and clenched her teeth, even raising both arms over her head as if ducking for cover from the wrath of her employer. \n\nBut no booming reprimanding words came bellowing from behind the counter; in fact, not a peep could be heard throughout the shop. But before Pinkie could start thinking about marshmallow peeps, she was dumbstruck at how silent the place was. Mrs Cake said she’d be working overtime to fill several big Hearts and Hooves Day orders, and usually that meant ovens a’baking, blenders a’blending, and all that other baking prodigiousness that left Pinkie so often in awe of her and Mr Cake’s culinary capabilities. What the hay was going on? \n\nHer previous worries about the botched delivery kicked out from the front of the queue of priorities in Pinkie’s shall we say, eccentric mind, the party pony wasted no time in indulging her sense of curiosity by scanning the shop for any signs of Mrs Cake. She searched upstairs, to no avail; the Cakes’ bedroom was as spic and span as always, minus its’ usual inhabitants, and the only abnormality about Pinkie’s bedroom upon inspection was that somewhere along the line since she left for Baltimare, the mess from her leaving-town party had been cleared up, much to Pinkie’s nostalgic dismay. But there was no time to write an obituary for the confetti that no longer hung from her lampshade, she had somepony to find! \n\nAfter treading back downstairs and around the shop floor, Pinkie found the kitchen and cake counters to be scarily clean upon closer inspection. Not only did running a finger along the worktops of the kitchen yield no yummy remnants of icing or flour, but it left her with a yucky chemically taste in her mouth! As she coughed, scraped her tongue dry and desperately grabbed a cup to drink some water and wash the taste away, Pinkie came to a realisation. The whole house was eerily clean, and if Mr Cake was away, he couldn’t have done it. And if he couldn’t have done it, that meant Mrs Cake must’ve done it. And if Mrs Cake did it, that meant she wasn’t busy with baking at all. And if she wasn’t busy with baking at all, that meant she’d lied to Pinkie! And if she’d lied to Pinkie, that meant she had another reason to want her out of town! And if she didn’t want Pinkie around, then that meant- \n\nPinkie was about ready to crown herself the new Sherclop Holmes when a long, loud groan coming from downstairs rudely threw off her train of thought. How rude. But as she was thinking, if she didn’t want Pinkie around, then that meant- \n\nFinally, Pinkie’s own sense of deduction caught up with those who would have taken the hint from that first unmistakeable audio clue that rang out from the floor below. That said, she wasn’t sure quite what she’d deduced yet, but the theories ringing around in her ingenious detective brain were enough reason for her to crack this case. \n\nWith a newly gained and in her mind a thoroughly deserved satisfied smug grin spread from cheek to cheek, Pinkie made her way back to the front of the shop, from where a nondescript locked wooden door led to the basement below. Usually it was used for storage alone, but with her spare master key to Sugarcube Corner in hand, Pinkie was ready to bust the Case of the Missing Cake wide open. She unlocked the door with a satisfying click of the tumbler mechanism within the frame, and trod slowly but surely down into the dim light below. \n\nIt was about halfway into her trip down the rickety stairs when hesitation took its’ turn steering Pinkie’s inquisitive, hyperactive mind. Maybe this wasn’t the right thing to do; Pinkie spent so much time around everypony that she knew in Ponyville, and enjoyed their company so much, that sometimes it took a bit of effort for her to remember that not everypony wanted to spend every waking moment with her. And this was Mrs Cake’s personal affairs that she was now investigating into, with decreasing amounts of excitement and increasing amounts of concern. Concern which stemmed most prominently now from the scene in the currently empty basement greeting her at the bottom of the stairs. \n\nPinkie bit her bottom lip as she stood, unable to help tugging on her braces a little bit out of sheer nervous compulsion. Between the flickering solitary light bulb, orbited by a small family of moths, and the dim light it projected into the stacked, chilly storage area, not to mention the cobwebbed dark corners and bare walls of the small room, Pinkie couldn’t decide if the atmosphere was a humourously ironic cliché of a scene from a horror flick, or if it was just born that way. \n\nWith thoughts of respect for Mrs Cake’s privacy, hope of getting away with her cake delivery mishap and indeed even her own safety in mind, Pinkie turned to leave. Only, it was at that moment when a fresh, load and pleasured cry bellowed forth, stemming undoubtedly from beyond the door on the opposing end of the storage room. Pinkie turned to face it in a shot. She knew the sound of a good time when she heard one, probably better than any other pony in town. And whether it was wise, polite or appropriate or not, Pinkie was never one to turn down a good time.\n\nHer resolve re-hardened, Pinkie strode confidently towards that door, taking a moment to compose herself to take in whatever Mrs Cake had been keeping from her. Come to think of it, she realised as she reached for the handle, she’d never been back here herself. Maybe it was a secret kitchen, for top secret cake making. Maybe Mrs Cake was making Pinkie a surprise baked present for when she returned, or for her hubby after the conference! But then, what had been causing all those mysterious, seemingly pleasurable cries of joy? \n\nPinkie racked her brain for an answer, she opened that door and saw Mrs Cake kneeling on a table with a mystery stallion’s member crammed up her sex. \n\nIf you, dear reader, have ever been caught in any variety of compromising situation by someone close to you, you’ll know how agonizingly awkward it feels. Were it possible to put a stopper on the metaphorical pain that being caught ‘in the act’ can induce, it would arguably replace conventional forms of interrogation in its’ efficiency; for anyone enduring that unique kind of shame that sends the heart pounding and the body into a complete freeze from disbelief, they’d surely give anything for it to cease. \n\nNow imagine how Mrs Cake felt when Pinkie Pie burst through that door and saw her just moments after the latest kind gentleman caller had unloaded his nut deep inside of her. ‘Silence’ would not have done justice to the scene that unfolded in those few seconds that passed like millennia for all present; including the four other stallions stood around the table in various states of undress, but none without their erect manhoods standing to attention in the air. \n\nBut indeed, the worst thing about that timelessly paradoxical relationship between shame, libido and exposure is that no matter how strong the firehoses of shame try to extinguish the flames of one’s exposed lust, a small spark will always remain. Exacerbated no doubt in this particular case by the sizable member inside of Mrs Cake, even as more mixed sexual juices spilled out of her. \n\nNothing was hidden from Pinkie’s gaze; Mrs Cake had her thighs spread above the stallion who, while undoubtedly aware of the intrusion by now as well, still kept his hands atop her thighs, trying to peer around the blue baker pony’s wide frame to try and see for himself who had caught them in the act. One of the other colts was leaned up against the near wall, while the others were either paralyzed with one or both hands around their shafts, or hands on their hips admiring the view. \n\nIt was the stark naked buxom bakerwoman who broke the silence;\n\n“I… Um… Ohh golly…” Granted, not very well. So, letting actions speak louder than words, Mrs Cake painstakingly slid herself up and off the spent horse cock between her sweat-drenched thighs, shuffling off the table and bending down for the pile of clothing that judging by the white apron in amongst its’ contents, belonged to her. But in mid-reach, a surprisingly forceful pink hand clutched her wrist, stopping her own. Mrs Cake raised her gaze to look her apprentice dead in the eye, seeing an expression there that she’d never even thought could ever adorn Pinkie Pie’s face. \n\n“Ohhh no you don’t, Mrs Cake.” Pinkie interjected, her face stern and purpose-driven. \n\n“Pinkie, I’m sorry, I just…” Mrs Cake attempted to speak. She didn’t know what to say to make her employee stop staring at her like that, though she feared that nothing she could’ve said would have changed that. And some part of her didn’t even think she wanted to change it. \n\n“Thought you could have a party without Pinkie, didn’t ya?”\n\n“I know, but since he’s been out of town, and with us trying for a baby, I… Wait, what?” Mrs Cake replied automatically before applying the conversational brakes, leaving one of the still silently stunned stallions barely managing to rein in a chuckle. He never thought he’d see Mrs Cake taking a page out of Pinkie’s book by engaging her mouth before her brain. But his quelled laughter was quickly dissipated altogether when Pinkie Pie grabbed hold of Mrs Cake’s chin by her other hand and held her steady for a clearly tonsil-wrasslingly-deep kiss. \n\nEven caught red-handed as they all were, the men around all felt the strain in trying to dampen their arousal at seeing such a sight. They didn’t know what was going on by now, and judging by her wide open eyes, frozen body and muffled whimpers of either protest or passion, neither did Mrs Cake. But it seemed like Pinkie Pie had a plan. Pinkie let the hot kiss linger, even as she guided Mrs Cake’s outreached hand back down to her pillowy plump thigh, while the two began to kneel before one another. The puffy-haired, blue-coated older woman seemed to still be in no small amount of disbelief at the events spiraling so quickly out of her control and comprehension, and yet she didn’t pull away. With her eyes still wide and heart still pounding, Mrs Cake was forced to admit to herself as her tongue hesitantly began to reciprocate the wet, writhing motions of its’ sudden dance partner that given this still unbelievable turn of events, Pinkie was holding all the cards now. And maybe it was Pinkie’s sudden dominant attitude or the unquelled sparks still burning in the afterglow as yet more stallion spunk trickled from her sex onto the shag carpeted floor or the sheer tenacity with which Pinkie’s oral organ wrestled, caressed and toyed with her own, but she didn’t know if that was such a bad thing, all of a sudden. \n\nAs the sloppy makeout session before them lingered, the stallions looked to one another, remaining quiet out of what they assumed was common courtesy in such exceptional circumstances such as this. Though when Pinkie cracked open her eyelids to peer at each of them in turn in a sensual sapphire-eyed stare while she sat liplocking her employer, they needed nothing more to take the hint, and share one and the same thought. A thought that alleviated their concerns, allowed their postures to relax, and in the case of one particularly brash stallion, gave him cause to step closer to the impromptu girl-on-girl display before him, quietly massaging his once again stiffening member over Pinkie Pie’s shoulder. Soon enough, he would find his efforts surprisingly rewarded by a soft, sensual pink palm rising up from Mrs Cake’s hip to aid his motions in long, firm, encouraging strokes. \n\nHis suspicions entirely and impressively confirmed, he looked to his companions, at which point a shared knowing grin spread around the circle, and they followed his lead by stepping closer to the still liplocking ladies before them, surrounding them with intent not to intimidate, but to offer their services.\n\nIt was then that Mrs Cake took notice. With tongue still mingling and body still tensed up, it was with a hesitant but irresistibly curious hand that she too took hold of one of the quickly re-hardening stallion members surrounding the lucky busty fillies. With her sultry half-lidded eyes observing all, Pinkie coaxed her on with a trademark giggle of hers, albeit one muffled by the persisting French kiss she indulged in. No-one spoke a word, but they all knew that now, this was a party. And a Pinkie Pie Party at that. And like everypony else in Ponyville, they knew that if one thing was for certain, it was that there ain’t no party like a Pinkie Pie Party. \n\n“-But even cleaning the whole kitchen didn’t take my mind off of it! So, I called them all up and invited them over here to talk it over… I swear I just wanted to let them all down gently, after they’d been so nice and all, but…”\n\n“Aww, don’t you worry Mrs Cake, I know how it is. Us girls got needs, and it ain’t like Pinkie hasn’t had a few private parties of her own! In fact, weren’t you at the last one, Max?”\n\n“Uh, you mean that time at the cottage outside of town, with your Pegasus friend?” \n\n“Yeah, that! Thanks so much for coming by the way, Fluttershy’s super sweet and all, but sometimes that filly really needs a good hard fu-\"\n\n“Uh, Pinkie?”\n\n“Yeah Mrs Cake?”\n\n“So… is that it? Are we agreed then?”\n\n“Huh? Ohh! Heh, you betcha. I know you love your hubby and all, you two just need a little help getting a precious lil’ bun in your oven! So I forgive you, and I Pinkie Promise that I won’t tell anypony else!” \n\n“Oh thank you Pinkie, thank you so much! So… what’s this secret of yours? You can tell me now, right? A deal’s a deal, I promise I won’t get mad!”\n\n“Heeee, silly Mrs Cake, telling you now would spoil the fun! And we are having fuuuuun, riiiight?~”\n\n“Ohh goodness… yes, I suppose so…”\n\n“Good! How about you down there stud? You ready for more? Hee, what am I saying, of course you are, look how big your dick’s gotten! Hope you save some more for me though after you’re done! Ooh, actually Mrs Cake, maybe we could switch up after this, I’ve never done it in the position you’re in before! And maybe-\"\n\n“Uh, Pinkie? Can I…”\n\n“Oh, right, hehehee! Go ahead!” \n\nAnd it was with that that the talking stopped, and the fun began again, in earnest. Mrs Cake shivered as she felt the stud beneath her clutching her plump, adorably chunky thighs possessively; all of these gentlemen had been so nice and polite to her throughout this visit, but even if she’d never say it, she admitted to herself that she really liked how much power their well toned, tall, virile bodies had over her.\n\nIt had taken little effort for Pinkie to guide her into the position she now found herself in, laying atop a different stallion on that same table she’d been on when the jig went up, but this time comfortably laying back into his chiseled chest, those plump blue melons of hers resting on her chest to create a wide valley of smooth cleavage. Mrs Cake knew fully well that she was a… larger lady, but whatever insecurities she still might have held about her body, it evidently did nothing to stop her from feeling raunchy enough to keep her legs spread as her gaze remained transfixed on the member between her legs, now angling up thanks to the guiding sensual palms of her kind baking assistant until the wide, precum dribbling tip found its’ way to her glistening slit. Evidently she was still sexy enough to turn on a roomful of hunky pieces of beefcake several times over, she theorised with a giggle. \n\nThat giggle was soon replaced by a guttural moan however, as her gentleman caller’s thick cockhead found its’ way to parting her cuntlips, inch after inch sinking up into her love canal as he writhed his hips upwards and forwards at just the right angle to slip into her from underneath.\n\n“Ooooohgosh! Yes!” Came her jolly, sexually charged cry, joined in a harmonizing union by the breathy grunt from the colt beneath as he sampled her clenching cunny, as the male sank every inch that he could inside of her. They remained there, breathing heavily while carnally conjoined. Now that his cock was firmly lodged inside, he moved his hands with an eagerness that belied a long-held desire to caress and knead those generous breasts of hers from beneath. Slowly but surely, his dick would slide out of her by a few inches only to slither right back inside with slow but hearty hip motions. With her well proportioned hefty body comfortably laid atop him, and his cock keeping its’ tip plugged right within her lewdly spread pussy lips, he was free to caress the pillowy mounds of her tits happily, even using a fat finger or two to flick, prod and tease her hardening nipples. \n\n“Wow, Mrs Cake… Heehee, you go girl! Look at you, taking all of that in like a champ… Mmf…” Pinkie praised and applauded the rutting couple, ever a wide toothy smile on her face. And even if their own smiles were less distinct than that of the promiscuous party pony, between their contented expressions and masturbating hands, the other four party-goers surrounding the two lovely ladies were evidently enjoying the show as well. The sight of which, in turn, made Pinkie’s smile turn from a grin into a lip-biting smirk.\n\n“Hmm, umm, Mrs Cake, I know that this party’s for you, and all, but…” Pinkie Pie stuttered out, in an uncharacteristic moment of hesitancy, albeit one fueled by concern and respect for the ‘guest of honour’ at this newest party of hers. \n\nMrs Cake held back her whimpering moans of pleasure long enough to look down at Pinkie through a couple of errant strands of wavy pink hair that had flopped free from her tightly tied bun to obstruct her vision somewhat, and answer in a hungry whisper that she didn’t even know she was capable of.\n\n“Mmmn, go on dearie, plenty to go around… treat her good, boys…” \n\n“Yay! Thank you!” Pinkie responded before giving an adorably joyous gleeful giggle more suited to a giddy schoolgirl than a horny partygirl, bouncing on her heels before reaching her hands down to the clasps of her braces on her skirt. \n\nSometimes, Pinkie did some weird things. Not just silly things, but just plain… abnormal. Things that ponies shouldn’t be able to do. Appearing out of the blue, performing feats of utterly unreal strength or speed, even pulling almost cartoonish facial expressions that nopony could have ever hoped to emulate. No-one knew how to explain it, and not even Pinkie knew that she had ever done anything strange to begin with when called up on it. Most of the time, the townsfolk brushed it off as “Pinkie Logic”. But as rare and largely harmless as these strange dalliances of hers were, very few folks in Ponyville could say that they’d seen her applying these abilities of hers in a sexual capacity. \n\nHowever, the four stallions making up the circle that now watched her with eager, wanton eyes would find themselves as part of that lucky minority in a matter of seconds; from the moment Pinkie reached down to unclasp her braces until one could have gotten through with saying “Picklebarrel cumquat”, her clothes became nothing but a pile on the ground, not a shred keeping her body from view as she stood up with arms upraised, sending her bare buxom breasts bouncing before them, like the triumphant flourish at the end of a gymnast’s routine. \n\n“Tadah! Well boys, I’m aaaall ready! So how do you want- Waaahhh!”\n\nPinkie chirped cheerfully, before she was abruptly picked up by the shoulders on either side by two of the fine colts, only to have her newly nudified body laid right atop the bucking, writhing body of Mrs Cake. \n\n“Hahaha, well hiya Mrs Cake! Having fun? I know I am!” Pinkie just giggled out, ever quick to respond positively to a bit of spontaneity at a party, this one being no different. She even grinned and fluttered her eyelids while gazing back over her shoulder as her thighs were parted, pressing her breasts downwards into Mrs Cake’s own impressive pair. \n\n“Ohh.. mmmmhh, oh my… why, yes… yes I am…” Mrs Cake uttered in an endearingly bashful whimper, her body feeling no small degree of boiling heat in its’ carnal core as the stallion beneath her carried on sliding into her moist wanting pussy unabashed by the increase in weight atop him. The only adjustments he made was to move his hands off of Mrs Cake’s bust to wrap his fingers around Pinkie’s curvy torso, forcing their bodies to grind together closer and share their heat in more ways than one. That, and increasing the pace, ferocity and depth of his thrusting into the married filly’s soaked depths, causing a long lingering cry of bliss to escape her clenched teeth, rewarded all too soon by a hungry kiss by a pair of puckering pink lips atop her. \n\nThis time their liplock was devoid of all hesitancy, and no wonder; with Pinkie’s breasts pressed right into Mrs Cake’s, their nipples even flicking and teasing one another, and the younger filly’s hips pushing right down till even their sensitive love buttons prodded together in a moment of piercing electric ecstasy that had them both shuddering, it was clear to see that all walls had been broken down now. \n\nPinkie didn’t have to wait long to join Mrs Cake in feeling a stallion pumping inside of her, either. Mere moments passed before the tallest colt of the bunch, a brilliantly chestnut-coated male with a deep black flowing mane, clutched onto her plush soft behind, spreading her asscheeks open before prodding his very tip at her sopping pink entrance. The both of them knew, not a word of requested permission was needed, especially with how Pinkie even winked back at him during her sensual tongue-wrassle. So with a hearty grin of his own, inch by thick aroused inch of stallion cockmeat sank deep into Pinkie Pie’s folds, caressing with welcoming silken tightness. \n\n“Nngggghhh! Oooh, heee, that’s it baby, stuff my party bag, heehee…” Pinkie practically purred out, as his hips drove forwards to drive even more of himself into her. Soon enough he was hilted, balls deep, as far inside her wet snatch as he could muster to go, all while at the bottom of this four-pony pile-up, his companion was giving his all to that moaning wanton matron of a mare. \n\nBy now, the mood was positively electric in the room, and from there, the action only ramped up. The two stallions on either side of the humping, powerfully pounding men giving the two fillies all the dick they needed moved right in close, at which point Pinkie needed no further convincing before reaching her hands to either side, furiously and encouragingly jerking their own aching members for them. Just the feel of the hot handles in her hands was enough to make the hastening thrusts into her snatch from the colt behind her feel all the more juicy. \n\nTime and time again, fat stallion members would sink into the juicy, now utterly flooded depths of both the hyperactive giggling and moaning pony on top of the pile and the intensely aroused middle-aged mare in the middle of it all. \n\nTo Pinkie, this was one hell of a party. Being sandwiched not just between so many hunky colts but her lovely live-in boss who she had to admit, was quite the desirable voluptuous woman, and on a day that had started out so poorly for her; it didn’t get much better. The stallion pounding her snatch was clutching and kneading her asscheeks with an intensity that she could feel expressing his affinity for her soft supple buns through his actions, and his sheer size and power by which he forced his entry into her was making his hiss and moan aloud every time he went balls deep inside. \n\nTo Mrs Cake, she was beyond all words. The colt beneath her just was not letting up, and by now, she would have expected nothing less. By this point, her husband didn’t even so much as cross her mind. She felt sexy, confident, and positively alive. Not at any ill will for Mr Cake himself, but it was only now that she realised how much she needed this; to totally let herself go. And with her sensitive little love button just prodding and grazing over Pinkie’s own while the two gentlemen plundered their clenching depths, it wouldn’t be long now until she got the happy ending she needed. \n\nSoon enough, Pinkie was close enough to climax that she would have moaned out a delicious little pun she’d had in the works for months now, just waiting for the opportunity for her to bust out during the right raucous romp. Would have, were it not for the fifth stallion in the group sliding his own member back and forth over her tongue, and down her throat. She would have been a little peeved at his interruption a minute or two ago when he’d grabbed her by the silky smooth poofy curly locks of hers and slid his fat horse dick down her slobbering throat, but he tasted too good, and it was too strong of a multiplier to her pleasure for her to care. Now though, as thick members spitroasted her from both ends, the ever-vocal pony tried her very best to bring just the right crescendo to their carnal concert, and as luck would have it, her timing couldn’t have been better.\n\n“Mmmmnnn, mmmmmmph, haaaah, mnnnn, gggonnnaaahh… mmnnnnyeffffhhh!!! MMNHHGHHHH!!!” \n\n“Ohhhhhgooodness yesss! Do it! In meeee! Please!” \n\nCame the climactic cries of Pinkie and Mrs Cake alike, just milliseconds before growls and shudders and outright roars of ecstasy flooded the room, and gallons of hot fresh stallion spunk flooded their bodies. The lucky stallions hilted in their cunnies just as their twitching, pulsating, ecstasy gripped members found release, spewing ribbon after thick copious potent ribbon into their bare, unprotected gripping folds. The flow was so thick, so utterly voluminous, that thick trickles would spew out hastily around both their skewered thick cuntlips, pressurized from the embrace of the orgasm-possessed pony pussies that milked them both for all that they had. \n\nPinkie would feel a similarly immense surplus gushing down into her throat, that twitching flared cockhead spewing away even as in a slow, enjoyably steady movement back past her lips, she would feel it coating her maw on its’ way back out, leaving her to savour and slurp up every bit of lewd flavour in the hunky stallion’s lovejuices. \n\nFinally, no more than a few seconds after every other climax had explosively arrived on the scene, the twin members gripped now at the very root by Pinkie’s pink enthusiastic palms let their own loads loose, bathing and splattering both ladies with spunk, as their eyes rolled back in their heads, cum still spurting deep in their clenching cunts. \n\n“You… sure, it was alright?” Mrs Cake asked again, still shuddering beneath Pinkie, who just giggled and licked a fresh strand of lewd liquid from Mrs Cake’s cheek. \n\n“Heee, I’m sure, it’s a safe day for me, and it was soooo worth it, besides! I forgot how good it feels! You’re one lucky lady, Mrs Cake. Wish I’d got here sooner.” Pinkie teased, looking around at all the drained but satisfied stallions slowly redressing themselves. \n\n“Mmm, and, you promise, you won’t tell my puddin’ about this? It’s just, we’ve been trying for so long now, and…” She stuttered out, the pangs of shame hitting her again, before Pinkie put two fingers on her moistened lips. \n\n“Hey, I promised, didn’t I? Besides, we had fun, and he’s gonna be a daddy, so we all win!”\n\nMrs Cake smiled once again. As simple as it was, there was a beauty to Pinkie Logic, sometimes. \n\n “Oh goodness, that reminds me, I owe you a pass for whatever that little mishap from your trip was that you mentioned, don’t I? So, what was it hon?”\n\n“Oh!” Pinkie chirped, every shred of worry blissfully fled from her mind. “I dropped the cake.”\n[b]\n“YOU WHAT?!?!”[/b]\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Ain’t No Party…

Pinkie Pie was feeling glum. How could she have screwed up this badly? Of all the things that could possibly happen, this was the WORST, POSSIBLE, THI-

Wait, that wasn’t her line! And she supposed that it wasn’t in fact the worst possible thing; just a really bad oopsie on her part. Still, Mrs Cake was gonna be maaaaad! All the poor pink pony could do to express her trepidation about breaking the bad news was to bite her lip and nervously kick her legs against the seat in front of her own, where unbeknownst to her a mustachioed stallion was finding himself decreasingly invested in the Equestria Daily newspaper in his hands, and increasingly aggravated by the detestable irregular impacts felt through the back of his seat.

In about the same time it took for him to ready a stern word of warning to what he theorised was a child or bratty teen sat in the row behind him, the kicking abruptly stopped. Convenient for him, though he mentally admitted, inconvenient for his un-sated sense of cathartic closure.

Had he gone ahead with his intended motion of twisting in his seat to peer around it to whoever sat there, he might have found his tongue abruptly stilled by the sight of a curly haired, busty, beautiful and adorably nervous looking filly that awaited him. And the last thing he needed, for reasons that this story isn’t going to elaborate on for the sake of pacing, was blue balls. So, all for the best, ultimately.

Having decided that chewing her fingernails might be a better strategy of calming her nerves than kicking the seat, Pinkie Pie was now sat almost too still for comfort to the eye of any observer familiar with the hyperactive party pony. Her horizontally striped yellow and blue thigh high stockings matched the pattern of the cute, tight t-shirt she wore, with bright red elastic braces running past both shoulders and down over the generous swell of her bust, latching onto the belt holes around the upper hem of the pink flirt skirt adorning her waist. Even the subtle comfort stemming from wearing her favourite panties, emblazoned as they were with her own cutie mark right in the centre, did nothing to help her mood. Why am I talking about Pinkie’s underwear? Maybe it’s relevant to the story. Where’d she get such a specific garment? Maybe she commissioned Rarity for them, and maybe it was super awkward for them both for a couple weeks after that. Why go into such detail on her underwear? Because there’s gonna be sex in this story, now shuddup!

As the train chugged along towards its’ final destination of Ponyville, the seconds ticked by, each one denying Pinkie of an excuse for her attempted and failed cake delivery in Baltimare. Although, a more accurate description of the events that now caused her to perspire while the train pulled into Ponyville Train Station would have replaced ‘attempted’ with ‘dropped’, ‘failed’ with ‘run over’, and ‘delivery’ with ‘catastrophe’.

What in Equestria was she going to do?! Sugarcube Corner was incredibly busy with Hearts and Hooves Day coming up, and with tall orders to fill at the shop and Mr Cake away at the Annual Baker’s Conference, the cornered couple had been forced to rely on their undoubtedly motivated, but less than careful assistant to make this long haul delivery. It wasn’t her fault though! She tried to be careful and cautious and all those other appropriate c words, but everything was fine until she tripped over that stupid rock and tossed the stupid cake into the stupid middle of the stupid road, only to watch in horror as the stupid Baltimare Marathon ran through the road, followed by the stupid float parade, and Celestia knows what else after she ran away bawling down the street. Now she was going to have to fess up to Mrs Cake, or make up some phony silly excuse, or sneak into the kitchen to re-make the cake herself, or, or…

“Um, Ms. Pie? ‘Scuse me, Ms. Pie?” Came a booming Irish voice beside her.

“Huh, wha, when?!” A startled Pinkie Pie mumbled out as she came back to reality.

“Um, we’ve reached our final stop, Ma’am. Yer gonna hafte leave the train now, I’m afraid.” The train conductor replied. How long Pinkie had been lost in her own nervous thoughts was unclear, but judging by his tone, long enough that he must’ve noticed her reluctance to rise from her seat, especially as upon a look around the carriage, Pinkie discovered she was the only passenger left.  

“Oh, uh, right. Sorry.” Pinkie apologized with an awkward grin, getting up from her seat. She didn’t bat an eyelid at the conductor knowing her name; everyone in Ponyville knew Pinkie Pie. Or at the very least, they knew her for her parties. But short of an impromptu party for two on the train, Pinkie still found herself in want of an excuse not to trudge her sorry self over to Sugarcube Corner to deliver the bad news.

“Well now, you must not be having a bonnie day with a look like that on yer face.” The stallion said as he walked her out of the carriage, guiding her down from the doorway at the end of the corridor down onto the platform with a courteous hand. Pinkie cracked a momentary smile at his gentlemanly conduct, the likes of which was quickly swiped away as she caught sight of Sugarcube Corner just down the road from the station. “What in the hay’s wiped the smile from the lovely Ms. Pie’s face an a sunny day like this ‘un?” That was the problem with being the most popular party pony in Ponyville; if Pinkie of all ponies was glum, it got noticed.

The filly just sighed as she turned to reluctantly walk her own private little green mile to the shop that seemed to now mock her with the very sugary sweetness that normally made her feel so at home. “Lets’ just say, unless there’s a surprise party waiting for me for once at Sugarcube Corner, this day’s not too bonnie for Pinkie right now.” You could almost hear the violins. Or, on closer expection, you could, but the reasons which had brought the Canterlot Philharmonic to Ponyville Train Station at that precise and atmospherically convenient moment will remain a mystery for the ages, or at least for the next 4,900 words or so.

“Mrs Cake? You in there?” Came the hushed but ever squeaky voice of Pinkie Pie around the tiniest edge of opening in the doorway. Fruitless as her ridiculously hesitant entrance was, it did raise Pinkie’s hopes a little that perhaps she could still sneak into the kitchen, toss something together and leave before Mrs Cake ever knew she was there. Though said hopes were dashed as she pushed the door open further, sliding in just as the top edge of the door struck the tiny bell dangling just overhead, sending the pendulum swinging to create a cheerful metallic chirp that signaled her entrance. Pinkie cowered and clenched her teeth, even raising both arms over her head as if ducking for cover from the wrath of her employer.

But no booming reprimanding words came bellowing from behind the counter; in fact, not a peep could be heard throughout the shop. But before Pinkie could start thinking about marshmallow peeps, she was dumbstruck at how silent the place was. Mrs Cake said she’d be working overtime to fill several big Hearts and Hooves Day orders, and usually that meant ovens a’baking, blenders a’blending, and all that other baking prodigiousness that left Pinkie so often in awe of her and Mr Cake’s culinary capabilities. What the hay was going on?

Her previous worries about the botched delivery kicked out from the front of the queue of priorities in Pinkie’s shall we say, eccentric mind, the party pony wasted no time in indulging her sense of curiosity by scanning the shop for any signs of Mrs Cake. She searched upstairs, to no avail; the Cakes’ bedroom was as spic and span as always, minus its’ usual inhabitants, and the only abnormality about Pinkie’s bedroom upon inspection was that somewhere along the line since she left for Baltimare, the mess from her leaving-town party had been cleared up, much to Pinkie’s nostalgic dismay. But there was no time to write an obituary for the confetti that no longer hung from her lampshade, she had somepony to find!

After treading back downstairs and around the shop floor, Pinkie found the kitchen and cake counters to be scarily clean upon closer inspection. Not only did running a finger along the worktops of the kitchen yield no yummy remnants of icing or flour, but it left her with a yucky chemically taste in her mouth! As she coughed, scraped her tongue dry and desperately grabbed a cup to drink some water and wash the taste away, Pinkie came to a realisation. The whole house was eerily clean, and if Mr Cake was away, he couldn’t have done it. And if he couldn’t have done it, that meant Mrs Cake must’ve done it. And if Mrs Cake did it, that meant she wasn’t busy with baking at all. And if she wasn’t busy with baking at all, that meant she’d lied to Pinkie! And if she’d lied to Pinkie, that meant she had another reason to want her out of town! And if she didn’t want Pinkie around, then that meant-

Pinkie was about ready to crown herself the new Sherclop Holmes when a long, loud groan coming from downstairs rudely threw off her train of thought. How rude. But as she was thinking, if she didn’t want Pinkie around, then that meant-

Finally, Pinkie’s own sense of deduction caught up with those who would have taken the hint from that first unmistakeable audio clue that rang out from the floor below. That said, she wasn’t sure quite what she’d deduced yet, but the theories ringing around in her ingenious detective brain were enough reason for her to crack this case.

With a newly gained and in her mind a thoroughly deserved satisfied smug grin spread from cheek to cheek, Pinkie made her way back to the front of the shop, from where a nondescript locked wooden door led to the basement below. Usually it was used for storage alone, but with her spare master key to Sugarcube Corner in hand, Pinkie was ready to bust the Case of the Missing Cake wide open. She unlocked the door with a satisfying click of the tumbler mechanism within the frame, and trod slowly but surely down into the dim light below.

It was about halfway into her trip down the rickety stairs when hesitation took its’ turn steering Pinkie’s inquisitive, hyperactive mind. Maybe this wasn’t the right thing to do; Pinkie spent so much time around everypony that she knew in Ponyville, and enjoyed their company so much, that sometimes it took a bit of effort for her to remember that not everypony wanted to spend every waking moment with her. And this was Mrs Cake’s personal affairs that she was now investigating into, with decreasing amounts of excitement and increasing amounts of concern. Concern which stemmed most prominently now from the scene in the currently empty basement greeting her at the bottom of the stairs.

Pinkie bit her bottom lip as she stood, unable to help tugging on her braces a little bit out of sheer nervous compulsion. Between the flickering solitary light bulb, orbited by a small family of moths, and the dim light it projected into the stacked, chilly storage area, not to mention the cobwebbed dark corners and bare walls of the small room, Pinkie couldn’t decide if the atmosphere was a humourously ironic cliché of a scene from a horror flick, or if it was just born that way.

With thoughts of respect for Mrs Cake’s privacy, hope of getting away with her cake delivery mishap and indeed even her own safety in mind, Pinkie turned to leave. Only, it was at that moment when a fresh, load and pleasured cry bellowed forth, stemming undoubtedly from beyond the door on the opposing end of the storage room. Pinkie turned to face it in a shot. She knew the sound of a good time when she heard one, probably better than any other pony in town. And whether it was wise, polite or appropriate or not, Pinkie was never one to turn down a good time.

Her resolve re-hardened, Pinkie strode confidently towards that door, taking a moment to compose herself to take in whatever Mrs Cake had been keeping from her. Come to think of it, she realised as she reached for the handle, she’d never been back here herself. Maybe it was a secret kitchen, for top secret cake making. Maybe Mrs Cake was making Pinkie a surprise baked present for when she returned, or for her hubby after the conference! But then, what had been causing all those mysterious, seemingly pleasurable cries of joy?

Pinkie racked her brain for an answer, she opened that door and saw Mrs Cake kneeling on a table with a mystery stallion’s member crammed up her sex.  

If you, dear reader, have ever been caught in any variety of compromising situation by someone close to you, you’ll know how agonizingly awkward it feels. Were it possible to put a stopper on the metaphorical pain that being caught ‘in the act’ can induce, it would arguably replace conventional forms of interrogation in its’ efficiency; for anyone enduring that unique kind of shame that sends the heart pounding and the body into a complete freeze from disbelief, they’d surely give anything for it to cease.

Now imagine how Mrs Cake felt when Pinkie Pie burst through that door and saw her just moments after the latest kind gentleman caller had unloaded his nut deep inside of her. ‘Silence’ would not have done justice to the scene that unfolded in those few seconds that passed like millennia for all present; including the four other stallions stood around the table in various states of undress, but none without their erect manhoods standing to attention in the air.

But indeed, the worst thing about that timelessly paradoxical relationship between shame, libido and exposure is that no matter how strong the firehoses of shame try to extinguish the flames of one’s exposed lust, a small spark will always remain. Exacerbated no doubt in this particular case by the sizable member inside of Mrs Cake, even as more mixed sexual juices spilled out of her.

Nothing was hidden from Pinkie’s gaze; Mrs Cake had her thighs spread above the stallion who, while undoubtedly aware of the intrusion by now as well, still kept his hands atop her thighs, trying to peer around the blue baker pony’s wide frame to try and see for himself who had caught them in the act. One of the other colts was leaned up against the near wall, while the others were either paralyzed with one or both hands around their shafts, or hands on their hips admiring the view.

It was the stark naked buxom bakerwoman who broke the silence;

“I… Um… Ohh golly…” Granted, not very well. So, letting actions speak louder than words, Mrs Cake painstakingly slid herself up and off the spent horse cock between her sweat-drenched thighs, shuffling off the table and bending down for the pile of clothing that judging by the white apron in amongst its’ contents, belonged to her. But in mid-reach, a surprisingly forceful pink hand clutched her wrist, stopping her own. Mrs Cake raised her gaze to look her apprentice dead in the eye, seeing an expression there that she’d never even thought could ever adorn Pinkie Pie’s face.

“Ohhh no you don’t, Mrs Cake.” Pinkie interjected, her face stern and purpose-driven.

“Pinkie, I’m sorry, I just…” Mrs Cake attempted to speak. She didn’t know what to say to make her employee stop staring at her like that, though she feared that nothing she could’ve said would have changed that. And some part of her didn’t even think she wanted to change it.

“Thought you could have a party without Pinkie, didn’t ya?”

“I know, but since he’s been out of town, and with us trying for a baby, I… Wait, what?” Mrs Cake replied automatically before applying the conversational brakes, leaving one of the still silently stunned stallions barely managing to rein in a chuckle. He never thought he’d see Mrs Cake taking a page out of Pinkie’s book by engaging her mouth before her brain. But his quelled laughter was quickly dissipated altogether when Pinkie Pie grabbed hold of Mrs Cake’s chin by her other hand and held her steady for a clearly tonsil-wrasslingly-deep kiss.

Even caught red-handed as they all were, the men around all felt the strain in trying to dampen their arousal at seeing such a sight. They didn’t know what was going on by now, and judging by her wide open eyes, frozen body and muffled whimpers of either protest or passion, neither did Mrs Cake. But it seemed like Pinkie Pie had a plan. Pinkie let the hot kiss linger, even as she guided Mrs Cake’s outreached hand back down to her pillowy plump thigh, while the two began to kneel before one another. The puffy-haired, blue-coated older woman seemed to still be in no small amount of disbelief at the events spiraling so quickly out of her control and comprehension, and yet she didn’t pull away. With her eyes still wide and heart still pounding, Mrs Cake was forced to admit to herself as her tongue hesitantly began to reciprocate the wet, writhing motions of its’ sudden dance partner that given this still unbelievable turn of events, Pinkie was holding all the cards now. And maybe it was Pinkie’s sudden dominant attitude or the unquelled sparks still burning in the afterglow as yet more stallion spunk trickled from her sex onto the shag carpeted floor or the sheer tenacity with which Pinkie’s oral organ wrestled, caressed and toyed with her own, but she didn’t know if that was such a bad thing, all of a sudden.

As the sloppy makeout session before them lingered, the stallions looked to one another, remaining quiet out of what they assumed was common courtesy in such exceptional circumstances such as this. Though when Pinkie cracked open her eyelids to peer at each of them in turn in a sensual sapphire-eyed stare while she sat liplocking her employer, they needed nothing more to take the hint, and share one and the same thought. A thought that alleviated their concerns, allowed their postures to relax, and in the case of one particularly brash stallion, gave him cause to step closer to the impromptu girl-on-girl display before him, quietly massaging his once again stiffening member over Pinkie Pie’s shoulder. Soon enough, he would find his efforts surprisingly rewarded by a soft, sensual pink palm rising up from Mrs Cake’s hip to aid his motions in long, firm, encouraging strokes.

His suspicions entirely and impressively confirmed, he looked to his companions, at which point a shared knowing grin spread around the circle, and they followed his lead by stepping closer to the still liplocking ladies before them, surrounding them with intent not to intimidate, but to offer their services.

It was then that Mrs Cake took notice. With tongue still mingling and body still tensed up, it was with a hesitant but irresistibly curious hand that she too took hold of one of the quickly re-hardening stallion members surrounding the lucky busty fillies. With her sultry half-lidded eyes observing all, Pinkie coaxed her on with a trademark giggle of hers, albeit one muffled by the persisting French kiss she indulged in. No-one spoke a word, but they all knew that now, this was a party. And a Pinkie Pie Party at that. And like everypony else in Ponyville, they knew that if one thing was for certain, it was that there ain’t no party like a Pinkie Pie Party.

“-But even cleaning the whole kitchen didn’t take my mind off of it! So, I called them all up and invited them over here to talk it over… I swear I just wanted to let them all down gently, after they’d been so nice and all, but…”

“Aww, don’t you worry Mrs Cake, I know how it is. Us girls got needs, and it ain’t like Pinkie hasn’t had a few private parties of her own! In fact, weren’t you at the last one, Max?”

“Uh, you mean that time at the cottage outside of town, with your Pegasus friend?”

“Yeah, that! Thanks so much for coming by the way, Fluttershy’s super sweet and all, but sometimes that filly really needs a good hard fu-"

“Uh, Pinkie?”

“Yeah Mrs Cake?”

“So… is that it? Are we agreed then?”

“Huh? Ohh! Heh, you betcha. I know you love your hubby and all, you two just need a little help getting a precious lil’ bun in your oven! So I forgive you, and I Pinkie Promise that I won’t tell anypony else!”

“Oh thank you Pinkie, thank you so much! So… what’s this secret of yours? You can tell me now, right? A deal’s a deal, I promise I won’t get mad!”

“Heeee, silly Mrs Cake, telling you now would spoil the fun! And we are having fuuuuun, riiiight?~”

“Ohh goodness… yes, I suppose so…”

“Good! How about you down there stud? You ready for more? Hee, what am I saying, of course you are, look how big your dick’s gotten! Hope you save some more for me though after you’re done! Ooh, actually Mrs Cake, maybe we could switch up after this, I’ve never done it in the position you’re in before! And maybe-"

“Uh, Pinkie? Can I…”

“Oh, right, hehehee! Go ahead!”

And it was with that that the talking stopped, and the fun began again, in earnest. Mrs Cake shivered as she felt the stud beneath her clutching her plump, adorably chunky thighs possessively; all of these gentlemen had been so nice and polite to her throughout this visit, but even if she’d never say it, she admitted to herself that she really liked how much power their well toned, tall, virile bodies had over her.

It had taken little effort for Pinkie to guide her into the position she now found herself in, laying atop a different stallion on that same table she’d been on when the jig went up, but this time comfortably laying back into his chiseled chest, those plump blue melons of hers resting on her chest to create a wide valley of smooth cleavage. Mrs Cake knew fully well that she was a… larger lady, but whatever insecurities she still might have held about her body, it evidently did nothing to stop her from feeling raunchy enough to keep her legs spread as her gaze remained transfixed on the member between her legs, now angling up thanks to the guiding sensual palms of her kind baking assistant until the wide, precum dribbling tip found its’ way to her glistening slit. Evidently she was still sexy enough to turn on a roomful of hunky pieces of beefcake several times over, she theorised with a giggle.

That giggle was soon replaced by a guttural moan however, as her gentleman caller’s thick cockhead found its’ way to parting her cuntlips, inch after inch sinking up into her love canal as he writhed his hips upwards and forwards at just the right angle to slip into her from underneath.

“Ooooohgosh! Yes!” Came her jolly, sexually charged cry, joined in a harmonizing union by the breathy grunt from the colt beneath as he sampled her clenching cunny, as the male sank every inch that he could inside of her. They remained there, breathing heavily while carnally conjoined. Now that his cock was firmly lodged inside, he moved his hands with an eagerness that belied a long-held desire to caress and knead those generous breasts of hers from beneath. Slowly but surely, his dick would slide out of her by a few inches only to slither right back inside with slow but hearty hip motions. With her well proportioned hefty body comfortably laid atop him, and his cock keeping its’ tip plugged right within her lewdly spread pussy lips, he was free to caress the pillowy mounds of her tits happily, even using a fat finger or two to flick, prod and tease her hardening nipples.

“Wow, Mrs Cake… Heehee, you go girl! Look at you, taking all of that in like a champ… Mmf…” Pinkie praised and applauded the rutting couple, ever a wide toothy smile on her face. And even if their own smiles were less distinct than that of the promiscuous party pony, between their contented expressions and masturbating hands, the other four party-goers surrounding the two lovely ladies were evidently enjoying the show as well. The sight of which, in turn, made Pinkie’s smile turn from a grin into a lip-biting smirk.

“Hmm, umm, Mrs Cake, I know that this party’s for you, and all, but…” Pinkie Pie stuttered out, in an uncharacteristic moment of hesitancy, albeit one fueled by concern and respect for the ‘guest of honour’ at this newest party of hers.

Mrs Cake held back her whimpering moans of pleasure long enough to look down at Pinkie through a couple of errant strands of wavy pink hair that had flopped free from her tightly tied bun to obstruct her vision somewhat, and answer in a hungry whisper that she didn’t even know she was capable of.

“Mmmn, go on dearie, plenty to go around… treat her good, boys…”

“Yay! Thank you!” Pinkie responded before giving an adorably joyous gleeful giggle more suited to a giddy schoolgirl than a horny partygirl, bouncing on her heels before reaching her hands down to the clasps of her braces on her skirt.

Sometimes, Pinkie did some weird things. Not just silly things, but just plain… abnormal. Things that ponies shouldn’t be able to do. Appearing out of the blue, performing feats of utterly unreal strength or speed, even pulling almost cartoonish facial expressions that nopony could have ever hoped to emulate. No-one knew how to explain it, and not even Pinkie knew that she had ever done anything strange to begin with when called up on it. Most of the time, the townsfolk brushed it off as “Pinkie Logic”. But as rare and largely harmless as these strange dalliances of hers were, very few folks in Ponyville could say that they’d seen her applying these abilities of hers in a sexual capacity.

However, the four stallions making up the circle that now watched her with eager, wanton eyes would find themselves as part of that lucky minority in a matter of seconds; from the moment Pinkie reached down to unclasp her braces until one could have gotten through with saying “Picklebarrel cumquat”, her clothes became nothing but a pile on the ground, not a shred keeping her body from view as she stood up with arms upraised, sending her bare buxom breasts bouncing before them, like the triumphant flourish at the end of a gymnast’s routine.

“Tadah! Well boys, I’m aaaall ready! So how do you want- Waaahhh!”

Pinkie chirped cheerfully, before she was abruptly picked up by the shoulders on either side by two of the fine colts, only to have her newly nudified body laid right atop the bucking, writhing body of Mrs Cake.

“Hahaha, well hiya Mrs Cake! Having fun? I know I am!” Pinkie just giggled out, ever quick to respond positively to a bit of spontaneity at a party, this one being no different. She even grinned and fluttered her eyelids while gazing back over her shoulder as her thighs were parted, pressing her breasts downwards into Mrs Cake’s own impressive pair.

“Ohh.. mmmmhh, oh my… why, yes… yes I am…” Mrs Cake uttered in an endearingly bashful whimper, her body feeling no small degree of boiling heat in its’ carnal core as the stallion beneath her carried on sliding into her moist wanting pussy unabashed by the increase in weight atop him. The only adjustments he made was to move his hands off of Mrs Cake’s bust to wrap his fingers around Pinkie’s curvy torso, forcing their bodies to grind together closer and share their heat in more ways than one. That, and increasing the pace, ferocity and depth of his thrusting into the married filly’s soaked depths, causing a long lingering cry of bliss to escape her clenched teeth, rewarded all too soon by a hungry kiss by a pair of puckering pink lips atop her.

This time their liplock was devoid of all hesitancy, and no wonder; with Pinkie’s breasts pressed right into Mrs Cake’s, their nipples even flicking and teasing one another, and the younger filly’s hips pushing right down till even their sensitive love buttons prodded together in a moment of piercing electric ecstasy that had them both shuddering, it was clear to see that all walls had been broken down now.

Pinkie didn’t have to wait long to join Mrs Cake in feeling a stallion pumping inside of her, either. Mere moments passed before the tallest colt of the bunch, a brilliantly chestnut-coated male with a deep black flowing mane, clutched onto her plush soft behind, spreading her asscheeks open before prodding his very tip at her sopping pink entrance. The both of them knew, not a word of requested permission was needed, especially with how Pinkie even winked back at him during her sensual tongue-wrassle. So with a hearty grin of his own, inch by thick aroused inch of stallion cockmeat sank deep into Pinkie Pie’s folds, caressing with welcoming silken tightness.

“Nngggghhh! Oooh, heee, that’s it baby, stuff my party bag, heehee…” Pinkie practically purred out, as his hips drove forwards to drive even more of himself into her. Soon enough he was hilted, balls deep, as far inside her wet snatch as he could muster to go, all while at the bottom of this four-pony pile-up, his companion was giving his all to that moaning wanton matron of a mare.

By now, the mood was positively electric in the room, and from there, the action only ramped up. The two stallions on either side of the humping, powerfully pounding men giving the two fillies all the dick they needed moved right in close, at which point Pinkie needed no further convincing before reaching her hands to either side, furiously and encouragingly jerking their own aching members for them. Just the feel of the hot handles in her hands was enough to make the hastening thrusts into her snatch from the colt behind her feel all the more juicy.

Time and time again, fat stallion members would sink into the juicy, now utterly flooded depths of both the hyperactive giggling and moaning pony on top of the pile and the intensely aroused middle-aged mare in the middle of it all.

To Pinkie, this was one hell of a party. Being sandwiched not just between so many hunky colts but her lovely live-in boss who she had to admit, was quite the desirable voluptuous woman, and on a day that had started out so poorly for her; it didn’t get much better. The stallion pounding her snatch was clutching and kneading her asscheeks with an intensity that she could feel expressing his affinity for her soft supple buns through his actions, and his sheer size and power by which he forced his entry into her was making his hiss and moan aloud every time he went balls deep inside.

To Mrs Cake, she was beyond all words. The colt beneath her just was not letting up, and by now, she would have expected nothing less. By this point, her husband didn’t even so much as cross her mind. She felt sexy, confident, and positively alive. Not at any ill will for Mr Cake himself, but it was only now that she realised how much she needed this; to totally let herself go. And with her sensitive little love button just prodding and grazing over Pinkie’s own while the two gentlemen plundered their clenching depths, it wouldn’t be long now until she got the happy ending she needed.  

Soon enough, Pinkie was close enough to climax that she would have moaned out a delicious little pun she’d had in the works for months now, just waiting for the opportunity for her to bust out during the right raucous romp. Would have, were it not for the fifth stallion in the group sliding his own member back and forth over her tongue, and down her throat. She would have been a little peeved at his interruption a minute or two ago when he’d grabbed her by the silky smooth poofy curly locks of hers and slid his fat horse dick down her slobbering throat, but he tasted too good, and it was too strong of a multiplier to her pleasure for her to care. Now though, as thick members spitroasted her from both ends, the ever-vocal pony tried her very best to bring just the right crescendo to their carnal concert, and as luck would have it, her timing couldn’t have been better.

“Mmmmnnn, mmmmmmph, haaaah, mnnnn, gggonnnaaahh… mmnnnnyeffffhhh!!! MMNHHGHHHH!!!”

“Ohhhhhgooodness yesss! Do it! In meeee! Please!”

Came the climactic cries of Pinkie and Mrs Cake alike, just milliseconds before growls and shudders and outright roars of ecstasy flooded the room, and gallons of hot fresh stallion spunk flooded their bodies. The lucky stallions hilted in their cunnies just as their twitching, pulsating, ecstasy gripped members found release, spewing ribbon after thick copious potent ribbon into their bare, unprotected gripping folds. The flow was so thick, so utterly voluminous, that thick trickles would spew out hastily around both their skewered thick cuntlips, pressurized from the embrace of the orgasm-possessed pony pussies that milked them both for all that they had.

Pinkie would feel a similarly immense surplus gushing down into her throat, that twitching flared cockhead spewing away even as in a slow, enjoyably steady movement back past her lips, she would feel it coating her maw on its’ way back out, leaving her to savour and slurp up every bit of lewd flavour in the hunky stallion’s lovejuices.

Finally, no more than a few seconds after every other climax had explosively arrived on the scene, the twin members gripped now at the very root by Pinkie’s pink enthusiastic palms let their own loads loose, bathing and splattering both ladies with spunk, as their eyes rolled back in their heads, cum still spurting deep in their clenching cunts.

“You… sure, it was alright?” Mrs Cake asked again, still shuddering beneath Pinkie, who just giggled and licked a fresh strand of lewd liquid from Mrs Cake’s cheek.

“Heee, I’m sure, it’s a safe day for me, and it was soooo worth it, besides! I forgot how good it feels! You’re one lucky lady, Mrs Cake. Wish I’d got here sooner.” Pinkie teased, looking around at all the drained but satisfied stallions slowly redressing themselves.

“Mmm, and, you promise, you won’t tell my puddin’ about this? It’s just, we’ve been trying for so long now, and…” She stuttered out, the pangs of shame hitting her again, before Pinkie put two fingers on her moistened lips.

“Hey, I promised, didn’t I? Besides, we had fun, and he’s gonna be a daddy, so we all win!”

Mrs Cake smiled once again. As simple as it was, there was a beauty to Pinkie Logic, sometimes.

 “Oh goodness, that reminds me, I owe you a pass for whatever that little mishap from your trip was that you mentioned, don’t I? So, what was it hon?”

“Oh!” Pinkie chirped, every shred of worry blissfully fled from her mind. “I dropped the cake.”

“YOU WHAT?!?!”
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