[NSFW] Slut Sunset


                                            >Your name in Sunset Shimmer, and you’re a slut.

                                            >That’s what you are, no sense in denying it.

                                            >You’ve done your best to make sure everyone knows it, too.

                                            >You dress the part—which doesn’t normally require much clothing, honestly—and more importantly, you act the part.

                                            >Which means it is your venerable duty to drain the balls of about half a dozen boys almost every day.

                                            >It’s great fun and also starting to cut into your actual break time something fierce.

                                            >Seriously, you’re having trouble finding the time to eat lunch some days.

                                            >And you can’t subsist on a healthy diet of cocks alone.

                                            >You’ve tried.


                                            >Anyway, your status as a slut has pretty much made it around school by now, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it.

                                            >You love watching the freshmen hide around the corners, mustering up the courage to come talk to you.

                                            >When they finally break, stumbling into your way with neon-bright faces and halting explanations about how they want to show you something under the bleachers, you always feel like you’ve won something.

                                            >Too bad they don’t keep the sluttery trophies with the football ones in the hallway displays, otherwise you’d be famous for decades to come.

                                            >No, there is no cup to be won for sucking off the entirety of the soccer team—including the coach—in a single sitting, nor is there a commemorative plaque for taking more than fifty virginities over the course of your career.

                                            >The prizes you’re allowed to claim are not the sort to go parading around with.

                                            >They’re much more subtle.

                                            >Much more personal.


                                            >You have never, in your entire high-school life, spent a single hour in detention.

                                            >Which isn’t to say that you’re overly subtle about what you do—on the contrary, your behavior is obvious to anyone willing to look even slightly—it’s just that you’re in VERY good standing with enough teachers not to be bothered.

                                            >You still remember the first time Mr. Will fucked you in the faculty restroom.

                                            >Crammed into the small stall, with your arms barely finding purchase against the door and your panties around your ankles, you all but bounced your ass against his lap.

                                            >Between his moans, yours, and the wet slaps of a cock covered in girlcum pounding your pussy, it’s a wonder you didn’t cause enough of a scene to be expelled right then and there.

                                            >You were a different girl back then.

                                            >Your skin was lighter, your hair shorter, your clothes more in check with regulations.

                                            >The old Sunset wasn’t used to getting her rocks off in some school bathroom, and she came in about half a minute from the excitement alone.

                                            >Maybe the fattest dick she had seen thus far pumping into her played a role, too.


                                            >The female part of the faculty poses more of problem, seeing as they tend to be more resilient to your preferred method of getting out of trouble.

                                            >Which involves a lack of underwear, a scandalous toy in your orifice of choice with the remote control conveniently slipped into the teacher’s bag before class, and all of your mental fortitude to not start panting like a bitch ten minutes into the lecture.

                                            >Luckily, you usually don’t have to hold out for very long before your victim makes up some half-hearted excuse to get you and him out of the room.

                                            >You lost count of how many ‘emergency counseling sessions’ you received while your classmates watched the same VHS recording of some 90s science show.

                                            >You have to work differently with the female teachers though.

                                            >Fortunately, the training sessions you did with Twilight gave you a pretty good idea how.

                                            >Who’d have thought you could give Mrs. Cheerilee a toe-curling orgasm just by licking her for five minutes during self-study?

                                            >Or that she could squirt?

                                            >Must have been pretty pent up.


                                            >”See you tomorrow, Sunny Bunny!”

                                            >You wave Pinkie goodbye as she closes the door behind her, leaving you alone in the locker room.

                                            >You’re usually the last to leave after gym class.

                                            >You just like to take your time and wash off the day in the shower.

                                            >Also you get fucked by the coach sometimes, which means you need to do some serious cleanup work.

                                            >Honestly, you swear that man saves up an entire week’s worth of cum just to fill your womb to bursting.

                                            >You usually have the showers to yourself, is what you’re saying, seeing as most girls don’t seem to like getting naked in front of their classmates for some strange reason.

                                            >Weirdos.

                                            >You yourself have no problem strutting around the locker room stark naked, with your hands on your hips and your boobs jiggling with your steps, enjoying the stolen glances from the more repressed lesbians.

                                            >Seriously, if Vinyl doesn’t make a move soon you’ll just drag her into the shower yourself to see how much of her voice you can tickle out.


                                            >Finding your pile of clothes on one of the benches, you cautiously pick up the sock spread out on top of it.

                                            "Aww, come on! Again? "

                                            >You got used to finding your panties cummed in after class, the soft fabric misappropriated as masturbation aid by some faceless perpetrator.

                                            >It’s partially your fault anyway for wearing the skimpiest thongs and G-strings and flashing them whenever you even think of bending over.

                                            >But socks?

                                            >You could understand your thigh-highs becoming unwilling cum rags every once in a while, sure, but your anklets?

                                            >Lotta perverts in this school.

                                            >Last week one of your regulars actually wanted to fuck your armpit.

                                            >You let him do it, of course—you have a reputation to lose—but you could barely stifle your laughter the entire time.

                                            >You could do without the cum-filled condoms showing up in your locker, but you always manage to find good use for them.

                                            >Seriously, Twilight’s face when she keeps finding them in her purse is almost too much to bear.


                                            >Anyway, putting on your clothes—sans one sock—you leave the gym.

                                            >Pinkie was just in here a minute ago, too.

                                            >Whoever did this must have cut a deal with her.

                                            >You will interrogate her tomorrow.

                                            >Who does she think she is, selling other people’s clothes off as fap material?

                                            "Anon!"

                                            >The boy is leaning against the wall next to the door, fiddling with his phone.

                                            >He was probably waiting for you, seeing as you share most of your way home.

                                            >You often leave together, providing your schedules match up and neither of you is stuck in other… extracurricular activities.

                                            "Did you fucking jerk off with my sock?"

                                            >His surprise at the question is evident in his expression, as is his confusion.

                                            >His sight travels down to your feet, where the rim of a pink cotton sock is sticking out of one limited-edition sneaker but not the other.

                                            >"No?"

                                            "Don’t lie to me! I could tell it was your cum with my eyes closed. Yours is always watery as fuck because you go around screwing girls all day."

                                            >"It wasn’t me, Sunset."

                                            >You don’t buy it.

                                            >"And speaking of…”

                                            >Holding up his phone, Anon shows you the pictures he was flicking through.

                                            >"Did you know Cloudchaser has a new piercing?"

                                            >You snatch the device from the sock-rapist with a grunt, zooming to find—true enough—a little piece of metal flashing up at you from the screen.


                                            "A clit piercing? Jesus…"

                                            >"Pretty cool, huh?"

                                            >You continue to scroll through the pictures, most of them showing Cloudchaser’s snatch from different angles—some have her spreading her lips with her fingers—and then her breasts with the same piercings in her nipples.

                                            >You already knew about those.

                                            >Backing out of the gallery, you go the others, each one hiding varying levels of scandal of a different girl from around the school.

                                            >There’s even one of you.

                                            >Yep, that’s you from when you let Anon do you on the way home last Friday.

                                            >It’s just your butt actually, with your thong pulled to the side to allow proper access, but you’d recognize your own asshole anywhere.


                                            >"Can I have that back now?"

                                            "Pretty popular with the ladies, huh?" You grumble, handing over the phone and starting to walk towards the gate.

                                            >Anon is staying close, and he actually has the balls to act embarrassed at your remark, rubbing the back of his head and grinning that dumb, stupid smile.

                                            >"Eh, what can I say?" he chuckles complacently.

                                            >Dick.

                                            >You really don’t mind the guy most of the time—hell, he’s one of your best male friends and probably the only one not solely out to get into your pants—but you’re still grumpy from having to abandon your sock earlier.

                                            >And Anon is still the prime suspect, even if he probably got his rocks off a few times today already.

                                            >Not that it takes much to get laid in this school, but getting around like him actually requires a little bit of skill.

                                            >And at least halfway decent looks.

                                            >Which he’s got, annoyingly.


                                            >"So," the boy looks at the snapshots of Cloudchaser’s pussy again, "any chance you might want to do that, too?"

                                            "The piercing?"

                                            >He nods.

                                            "Dunno. Not sure I have the balls for that."

                                            >"I’d say you’ve had about all the balls in this school, Sunny."

                                            >Your sarcastic, deadpan laugh makes him giggle, but the fist to his upper arm quickly brings him back.

                                            >"Ow!"

                                            "I was always a friend of the natural look, you know? No metal shit, no implants, no stupid tattoos…"

                                            >He’s flicking through his photos again, searching.

                                            "Yes, I know! Fluttershy got a heart above her crotch last month. She showed me. Repeatedly… I got really… close to it."

                                            >"But it IS sexy, right?"

                                            "Sure, but it feels like cheating. I don’t need some trashy accessory to get a guy off."

                                            >"I don’t know. It’s certainly working. I’m getting hard just thinking about it."

                                            >Oh?

                                            >You glance over to your friend.

                                            >Now this you can work with.

                                            "Want me to… take care of that?" you point towards a nearby hedge that looks just tall enough to hide behind if you crouched down.

                                            >Your other hand is already working its way into Anon’s pants.

                                            >He wasn’t lying.

                                            >Insatiable pervert that he is, he’s already at half-mast.


                                            >Giving Anon’s cock a few long licks from his balls to his glans, you savor the subtle tang of salt on his skin.

                                            >It tastes like sex, like he used the thing to fuck some bimbo not half an hour ago.

                                            >He probably has.

                                            >Your tongue traces his shaft, leaving glistening spit in its wake.

                                            >Kneeling in the grass before your friend, you’re just out of view behind the hedge, save from the curious stare of any potential stragglers leaving school.

                                            >He however, is not.

                                            >He must look like a dunce, loitering behind some random shrubbery, gazing at the sky.

                                            >The thought makes you giggle.

                                            "Alright," you mumble around his head, sucking the first bit of precum from his urethra, "go ahead. I’m gonna finger myself for a bit, yeah? Need to–"

                                            >You’re cut off by inch after inch of dick shoving its way into your mouth.

                                            "Mhff–"

                                            >Fuck.

                                            >The cock is flooding your senses with its heady taste, the throbbing heat turning your brain into mush.

                                            >With your pants and panties pulled to your thighs, your hand starts working on your pussy, tracing your clit.

                                            >Still, you’re getting pushed deeper, getting forced to stick out your tongue below Anon’s shaft to try and make more room for him.

                                            >Only when you feel his manicured pubic hair tickle your nose and his cockhead slide down your throat does he let up.

                                            >You gag, massaging his dick with the convulsion as tears of pleasure sting in the corners of your eyes.

                                            >You give your best to suck on the slippery flesh as he pulls back.

                                            >Sputtering, you gasp for air once the dick leaves your mouth, your fingers pumping in and out of you.

                                            >"Okay?"

                                            >A look up through your blurred vision gives Anon all the information he needs, and you’re guided back down after another second of breathing time.


                                            >The wet slaps and gags coming from your throat are quickly swelling into a single background, interrupted only by Anon’s occasional grunts and moans and your violent pants whenever you manage to suck in air.

                                            >Spit and precum are hanging from your chin, and your pussy is glistening with your first climax.

                                            "Ghrk"

                                            >Whenever you’re pressed into his crotch, you do your best to stick out your tongue, lapping at his scrotum, but you’re quickly running out of steam.

                                            >You’re only allowed a tiny moment of oxygen every couple of bounces, just enough to keep you from fainting.

                                            >Just enough to hold you on the edge.

                                            >The firm hands on the back of your head keep precise control over how much breath you are allowed, and your protesting lungs are already throwing spasms from the mistreatment.

                                            >You love it.

                                            >You love the floaty feeling rising in your stomach, the numbness in your head, the burning in your chest, the pressure on your jaw.

                                            >You can only do this kind of tightrope act with Anon, and you’re pretty sure he can only do it with you, too.


                                            >Then he stops.

                                            >Pulling you off his dick, your friend is cupping your filthy chin, making you look up.

                                            "H… hey," you protest weakly, your thighs jerking from the next orgasm staining your panties with cum.

                                            >"By the way…"

                                            >You try to look at him, your mascara running down your cheeks with your tears.

                                            >"I was the one who came in your sock."

                                            "I fucking–"

                                            >Anon shoves you back onto his dick before you can finish, grinning, picking up speed to fuck your face like it was his personal masturbation aid.

                                            >But you’re fighting now.

                                            >You struggle against his hands, slapping his thighs only to be forced back into rhythm with more strength.

                                            "Mhmhff!"

                                            >More slaps ring out against his flesh, but to no avail.

                                            >You have to suck in time with his movements again despite your anger just to keep yourself from choking.

                                            >Your panties are all but ruined with girlcum, but your fingers find their way back to your cunt, trying to bring yourself to another orgasm.


                                            >The moment where you’re allowed to suck air doesn’t happen this time.

                                            >Your supply is running out fast, with the corners of your vision already darkening.

                                            >All you can do is struggle weakly against Anon’s assault, feeling yourself go more and more limp with each second.

                                            "Ghrk… Ghrk… Ghrk…"

                                            >You’re nothing but a pocket pussy now.

                                            >Fuck.

                                            >The fucker knows you too well.

                                            >Your lungs feel like they’re about to collapse, but your oxygen-deprived brain is sending out chemicals like wildfires, flooding your entire system with enough ecstasy to actually make you squirt enough that it feels like you’re peeing.

                                            >You would moan if only you could spare the breath, if only you didn’t get fucked out of your literal mind right now.


                                            >Only when you feel yourself sack into the grass, with your vision blacking out, does Anon let you breathe again.

                                            >Allowing your burning lungs to inhale, he pulls out of your mouth and lets you sink back onto your butt.

                                            >Your gasping breath is also the moment when he starts to fire rope after rope of hot cum into your face.


                                            "F–"

                                            >You gulp, struggling for air.

                                            >Your abused lungs still have trouble holding oxygen.

                                            "F-fuck…"

                                            >Cum is bubbling out of your nostrils and your entire face is covered in a sticky mixture of spunk and drool.

                                            >Your pussy is still quivering, squirting more and more juice onto your thighs.

                                            >If you had another meat-dildo right now, you’d ride it just to work your way down from the high, but—seeing as Anon only has the one, quickly-softening dick—you’re stuck taking care of it manually, circling your clit with your fingers.

                                            >A whimper is escaping you as more pleasure rolls through, making your toes curl and your legs cramp.

                                            >Anon himself has sunk down next to you, panting heavily, and he’s mercifully letting you lean back into him.

                                            >You don’t have the strength to do anything other than collapse against his chest.

                                            >His arms close around your stomach, softly massaging your muscles.

                                            >The warmth radiating from his skin melts into yours, and he gently kisses your neck, caressing your skin and waiting out the shivers.

                                            >"You’re the best," he whispers.

                                            >All you can do is grunt in approval, feeling yourself slacken.

                                            >"No piercing or tattoo is ever going to stand up to you."

                                            >That’s right.

                                            >You are Sunset Shimmer, the greatest goddamn slut in Canterlot.

                                            >And you’re very, very tired.