GREEN
990
2
1311 7.4 KB 108
1311 7.4 KB 108
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>You are at the mall with your friends with your phone goes off.
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>The music you reserved for your cousin Fluttershy plays.
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>To your shame, it is the Final Fantasy victory theme.
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>Your friends snicker and one of them calls you a fag.
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>You retaliate by telling him to shut the fuck up.
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>Social balance is now restored.
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>You take out your non-brandname smartphone (using generic-type wireless phone company plan) and take a look at what you cousin wants.
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>Maybe she got drunk again and wants to mumble and slur into your ear for a few minutes.
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>Instead of a phone call like you were expecting, Fluttershy has sent you a text.
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>There's no actual words - only a photo attached.
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>You open the photo, fully expecting to see a particularly cute puppy she met at the pound she volunteers at.
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>Perhaps she finally bought that cute yellow sweater and wants to show it off to you.
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>You click the image and it opens, resizing to allow you to view it.
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>You find yourself quite unable to speak.
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>Your favourite cousin is stark-naked (if only wearing stockings can be considered naked) and is laying on her bed.
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>She has her plump, round ass up in the air and you note in a distant part of your mind that her thighs fight against the constricting stockings.
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>The suspicions you've had about Fluttershy having breeding hips are confirmed.
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>Her breasts, big enough to envelop your hands like the Thing if you ever tried to hold them, are squished down beneath her.
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>They pool under their own considerable weight.
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>Despite the size of her breasts and the plumpness of her ass suggesting that your cousin has some extra fat on her body, Fluttershy's tummy is flat and trim.
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>Part of you is sure that she meant to send this photo to someone else.
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>Part of you prays to God that she didn't mean to at all.
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>As you're staring aghast at the photo that's giving you very confusing feelings (mostly in your dick), your phone plays the Final Fantasy victory theme again.
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>You're so engrossed in the picture that you nearly drop the phone in surprise.
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>Fluttershy has sent you a text message this time.
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>"Hey Nonny, you wanna hang out some time?"
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>DUH-DUH DUH-DUHHH DUHHH DUHHH DUH! DUH-DUH!
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>"I mean, if you want to"
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>DUH-DUH DUH-DUHH-
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>"If you aren't busy, I'll be waiting for you at home."
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>DUH-DU-
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>"Maybe you could"
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>DUH-
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>"Paint my womb white?"
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>DU-
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>"Please?"
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>The luring photo has been pushed off the top of the screen by Fluttershy's text messages.
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>Your friends have noticed your red face and the stunned expression you wear.
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>One of them asks you if you're okay.
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>He's the same one who called you a fag.
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>You reflexively tell him to shut the fuck up.
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>With social balance once more restored (in your mind, at least; in reality, your friend is quite confused), you leave your seat and walk out to your car.
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>You're going to make those breeding hips live up to their name.
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>You are in your room masturbating to online pronography when you hear your mom calling for you.
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>"Nonny? Could you come down here fer a second?"
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>You are quite irritated at being interrupted, but you puckle your pants and minimize the internet window regardless.
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>You call back down to your mom that you'll be right out, trying to buy some time while you look for that bottle of hand sanitizer you have hidden in one of your drawers.
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>There's no reason to go downstairs with dickfingers.
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>No matter how much it would turn you on to touch your mom right after a masturbation session.
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>When you finally find the bottle, you double-check to make sure that you aren't about to squirt lube all over your hand.
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>It's a mistake you've made before, and your dick did not thank you for the mix-up.
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>You arrive downstairs to a slightly peculiar sight.
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>Your mom, Applejack, is standing next to a stepladder and impatiently taps her foot.
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>She's wearing a blouse that you only ever see her wear on a day when there's no apple-collecting or any trees to tend to.
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>You suppose that since she's mounting pictures instead of working outside, today must be one of her rare days off.
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>Oddly enough, your mom is wearing a skirt instead of her usual jeans or overalls.
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>It's a rather small skirt, barely coming up to mid-thigh.
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>Maybe this is ALSO something she wears on days that she doesn't have to work.
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>It's a testament to her work ethic that you've never seen her wear that skirt before.
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>As in, ever.
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>You resist the urge to tug at your collar; it's feeling rather hot in the room all of the sudden.
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>" 'bout time you showed up, Anon."
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>She gestures to the stepladder and a small stack of framed pictures.
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>"Now help yer ol' mama out and hold the ladder steady, alright?"
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>She climbs up to the first step and looks back at you expectedly.
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>"Well? Grab the ladder and make sure Ah don't fall down."
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>The only place to stand is directly behind Applejack, and so you have to reach around her in order to grab the metal frame of the rickety old stepladder.
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>This puts you at about waist-height with your mom.
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>You hear a scuffling and the sound of clicking - you conclude that your mom just grabbed the stack of paintings she wants to hang up on the wall.
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>The stepladder creaks ominously as Applejack takes another step up.
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>The edge of your mom's skirt flicks your nose as it travels up past your face and settles down just over your head.
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>"Y'all alright down there, Nonny?"
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>You reflexively look up before you speak; your mother always taught you to look at whoever's speaking to you.
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>This inadvertently gives you a look up Applejack's skirt.
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>Even though the light isn't favourable (you, unfortunately, do not have something shining directly up your mom's skirt), you can see clear as day that your mom isn't wearing any panties under that curtain of apple-decorated cloth.
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>You have a VERY good view of your mom's pussy.
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>(You, of course, mean "very good" to mean "unobstructed" as well as "I appreciate having this vagina right up in my face".)
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>To your detached surprise, your mom's snatch is clean-shaven. Maybe even waxed.
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>The skin tone around her soft folds is slightly darker than even her normally sunkissed tan.
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>If you are not mistaken, you see a little bit of a wet glisten from in between her lips - just inside the pink part.
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>You sincerely hope that your sexual frustration from being interrupted isn't making you see things.
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>Speaking of your masturbation session, your dick has hardened against your wishes at the sight - and smell - of your mother's sex.
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>"Are you doin' okay down there?"
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>Applejack's question is accompanied by a very deliberate-looking wiggle of her hips, which gives you a quick teasing look at her clean pucker.
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>" 'Cuz it seems to me that y'all got a mighty big problem that needs takin' care of."
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>Your mom lowers her hips a few inches, damn-near stuffing her nose inside of her.
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>The stepladder squeals and screeches as your mother steps down - actually bumping your face with her pussy - and plants her feet back onto solid ground.
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>Applejack turns around and - with a red-faced victorious smirk - doesn't even bother hiding the way she stares at the tent you're pitching in your pants.
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>"Lemme see what's botherin' you, honey."
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>She starts unbuttoning her blouse.
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>"Listen to yer mama, Anon."
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>You clumsily start undoing your belt.
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>You get the feeling that you won't need that bottle of lube OR the hand-sanitizer any more after today.
by AnalPlugAnon
by AnalPlugAnon
by AnalPlugAnon
by AnalPlugAnon
by AnalPlugAnon