Source JSON
Post #2713606 · 1 source
derpibooru.org · 3777694 · selected
Downloader metadata · database Download
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API response · CAS Download
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"description": "**Party’s Over, Panties Aside**\r\n\r\n> The barn lights had dimmed to a lazy amber glow, fairy strings swaying gently in the night breeze that slipped through the open loft doors. Laughter still echoed faintly from the driveway as Rainbow Dash’s motorcycle roared away, Twilight’s hybrid headlights swept across the fields, Rarity’s complaining voice about hay in her hair faded into the distance, and Fluttershy’s soft goodnight was swallowed by the dark. Applejack had given you a long, knowing look before she disappeared into the main house with a casual “Y’all behave now.”\r\n> \r\n> Only Pinkie Pie remained.\r\n> \r\n> She stood in the middle of the hay-strewn floor, still wearing that obscene scrap of a pink party dress—glitter-dusted, barely-longer-than-a-babydoll, the hem riding so high you could see the white lace of her panties every time she bounced (which was constantly). Her hair was a chaotic cotton-candy explosion, cheeks flushed from cider and dancing, eyes glittering with something far hungrier than sugar.\r\n> \r\n> “You’re not leaving yet, right?” she chirped, voice pitched high and sweet like she was asking for one more cupcake. But the way she was walking toward you—slow, deliberate, hips rolling—was anything but innocent. “Because I’ve been *super* patient all night. Like, record-breaking patient. And now everyone’s gone and it’s just us and a big ol’ pile of hay and I *really* want to sit on your face—I mean—your lap. Wait. Both. Definitely both.”\r\n> \r\n> You hadn’t even answered before her small hands were already on your belt.\r\n> \r\n> She pushed you backward until your shoulders hit the stacked hay bales Applejack kept near the ladder. They smelled of dry summer and faint horse. Pinkie didn’t climb; she *vaulted*—one knee swinging over your hips, straddling you in one fluid, eager motion. The dress rode up instantly, exposing the damp cotton stretched tight across her pussy. You could see the outline of her lips through the fabric, swollen, needy, already darkening the material.\r\n> \r\n> “Pinkie—” you started.\r\n> \r\n> “Shhh.” She pressed two sugar-sticky fingers to your lips. “You’ve been staring at my butt every time I bent over to grab another soda. You groaned when I grinded on you during that slow song. Don’t pretend you don’t want this.” She rolled her hips once, dragging the soaked cotton along the thickening ridge in your jeans. “Say yes or I’m gonna cry. And if I cry I’ll get all snotty and then the sexy crying turns into ugly crying and nobody wins.”\r\n> \r\n> You exhaled hard through your nose. “Yes.”\r\n> \r\n> Her whole face lit up like she’d just won the lottery and the prize was dick.\r\n> \r\n> She attacked your zipper like it personally offended her, yanking it down, fishing you out with both hands. You were already leaking; she cooed at the sight, thumb swirling the bead of precum around the head until you hissed.\r\n> \r\n> “Look at you,” she whispered, almost reverent. “So hard for little old party-girl me.” Then she leaned in, licked a long, filthy stripe from base to tip, tongue flat and shameless, before sitting back up with a grin that promised destruction.\r\n> \r\n> She didn’t bother taking the panties off.\r\n> \r\n> She simply hooked the crotch to the side with two fingers, exposing her glistening, puffy cunt—pink as the rest of her, clit standing stiff and flushed. No preamble, no teasing slide. Pinkie lined you up, sank down in one greedy drop, and took every thick inch until her ass slapped your thighs.\r\n> \r\n> The sound she made was obscene—half-squeal, half-moan, head thrown back so far her hair rained glitter onto your chest.\r\n> \r\n> “Fuuuuck yes,” she gasped, voice cracking. “You’re so *deep*—I can feel you in my stomach—oh Celestia I’ve wanted this since the second you walked in wearing that dumb flannel shirt.”\r\n> \r\n> She didn’t give you time to adjust. Her thighs flexed and she started riding—hard, fast, filthy bounces that made her tiny tits jiggle under the thin dress. Every downward slam shoved a wet squelch out of her, cream already frothing at the base of your cock. She braced both hands on your chest, nails digging through fabric, using you like a mechanical bull she was determined to break.\r\n> \r\n> “Harder?” she panted, already knowing the answer. “You want me to fuck you stupid? Say it.”\r\n> \r\n> “Harder,” you growled.\r\n> \r\n> She laughed—bright, manic—and slammed down so violently your vision whited for a second. Then she ground in tight circles, clit dragging against your pubic bone, inner walls fluttering and clenching like she was trying to milk you dry.\r\n> \r\n> “Look at me,” she demanded suddenly, grabbing your jaw, forcing your eyes up. Her pupils were blown, mascara starting to run from the sheer exertion. “Watch me come all over your cock like the desperate little slut I’ve been pretending not to be all night.”\r\n> \r\n> You grabbed her hips—hard enough to bruise—and yanked her down onto you with every brutal upward thrust, meeting her halfway. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the barn. Hay scratched your back. Her dress was bunched around her waist now, panties still shoved aside, soaked and useless.\r\n> \r\n> She started to babble.\r\n> \r\n> “Gonna—gonna come—gonna soak you—fuck—fuck—*fuck*—right there—right there—don’t stop—don’t you dare stop—”\r\n> \r\n> Her whole body locked up. Thighs quivered. Cunt clamped down like a fist. A high, shattered cry ripped out of her and then she was gushing—hot, slippery pulses drenching your cock, your jeans, the hay beneath you. She kept riding through it, grinding out every last tremor, tears streaking glitter down her cheeks.\r\n> \r\n> You weren’t far behind.\r\n> \r\n> “Pinkie—fuck—I’m—”\r\n> \r\n> “Inside,” she snarled, suddenly feral. “Come inside me. Fill me up. I want to feel it dripping out when I walk back to the house.”\r\n> \r\n> That did it.\r\n> \r\n> You slammed up once, twice, buried yourself to the hilt and erupted—thick ropes painting her walls, flooding her until you could hear the wet overflow every time she lifted even an inch. She moaned like she was tasting it, rolling her hips to wring out every drop, milking you until your balls ached and your cock twitched uselessly inside her spasming heat.\r\n> \r\n> For a long minute the only sounds were both of you gasping, the distant hoot of an owl, and the slow drip of your combined mess hitting the hay.\r\n> \r\n> Pinkie finally collapsed forward, forehead pressed to yours, still twitching around you. She giggled—soft, wrecked, euphoric.\r\n> \r\n> “Best. Party. Ever,” she whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth. “We’re definitely doing this again next Friday. And maybe Thursday. And Wednesday. And—”\r\n> \r\n> You cut her off with your tongue in her mouth.\r\n> \r\n> She tasted like cider, frosting, and sin.\r\n> \r\n> And neither of you moved to leave the barn for a very, very long time.",
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