copied from https://desuarchive.org/mlp/thread/35952258/#q35966398
https://u.smutty.horse/lyhgtkwxwxw.txt
*original author is Anon*
---
prompt:

>I'm not impressed with the size of your wiener, anon.

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"Uh...?"
>Standing here, you realize that it was all a set-up.
>Yes, you were the de facto ambassador of your species.
>Yes, Princess Cadence and Shining Armor wanted you to take part in their interspecies trade deal negotiations.
>Yes, you had to dress nicely for it.
>Yes, as the only human living in the Crystal Empire, you could only get clothes made to fit.
>But now you see why she made you come all the way out here to Manehatten to get a suit made for you.
>No, it wasn't because she wanted you to have a nice weekend to relax before the days-long negotiations got underway.
>No, it wasn't because she wanted you to see if Manehatten was anything like life back on Earth and would rather work at the embassy here—you were quite comfortable in the Crystal Empire.
>No, it wasn't because there was no tailor in the Crystal Empire that could make a wonderful suit for you—Silver Needle was a wonderful tailor, and you have to admit the way he fawned over making clothes for you made you feel special.
>It was because she was trying to set you up with a mare again.
>You should have known from the moment she wanted to include you in any government business.
>You can't even go back to Earth!
>There's no trade!
>It was all a sham.
>A sham to be mocked by the cutest little pony you've ever seen with decidedly un-pony interests.
>Coco Pommel is her name, and sexual harassment is her game.
>"And it's so... flimsy."
>She bats at it with her hoof, sighing. "Princess Cadence made you sound magnificent. I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound shallow—o-or that you aren't good enough for other mares, but if this is it, it's not going to work out between us."
"What?"
>"I need a big wiener, Anon. One that works. I'm sure you're kind, and loving, and, well, everything else Princess Cadence said you were, but..."
>She bats it the other direction, and sighs again.
>"I'm really sorry. I'll finish your measurements and—"
"Whoa whoa whoa. I'm not hard."

>"Huh?"
>She cranes her neck up to finally look you in the eyes instead of staring at your limp dick.
>"But you're out of your sheathe. Don't you have erectile dysfunction?"
"No...? I don't have a sheathe. I'm a human. This is, like, half my size. Watch."
>You take your meathose and slap it down her snout, plump helmet bent up and poking her between her crossed eyes.
"And I'd better not hear you complain about getting cockslapped after batting my dick around like a cat toy."
>You slap her again and begin hardening. Fleshy thwacks fill the air of the back room where Coco insisted the measuring be done—for now-obvious reasons.
>Her eyes grow big as your whip turns into a club, a whinney escaping her wriggling lips as her hind legs knead the wooden floor, clopping and the sucking, mushy sound of an aroused mare joining your reggae beat between her nostrils.
>"O-Oh d-d-d-dear..."
>She begins to drool as she slides down your shaft, muzzle burying itself in your balls and hoovering every last hair deep inside her nose. You go from slapping her snout to thrusting on it, holding the underside of it with your hand and pressing your cock against it with your thumb.
"Cadence always tries to set me up with mares, y'know."
>You don't think she's listening to you. She's getting lost in the musk, ears twitching.
>Well, you wanna say it anyway.
"Problem is, none of them can handle me. See, the thing about humans is that we're ready to fuck every minute of the day. Doesn't matter where, or when. And you ponies—"
>You thrust into the hard bone between her eyes, pushing her head back so you can tilt her head up to meet your gaze.
"Well, you're stuck with estrus seasons, right? You're just not horny all the time like a man is. What's worse, all of you cum too damn quick. I've made mares cry because I can go twenty, thirty minutes before getting my rocks off."
>"T-Thirty...!"
>She's doing the 'I gotta get a cock inside me right now' dance.
"Think you can handle it?"

>Before you can even register the movement, she's bent over in front of you, tail flagged, shitting out anal beads dripping, clear and sticky.
"A go-getter. Good sign. But we're gonna need more lube than your tight little ass can hold. Where's the bottle?"
>Coco pants out, "T-Top shelf of the swatch rack."
>You step out of your pants and find it easily enough.
>Oh, 30% extra for free. That's a good deal. And water-based? This mare's a pro.
>You drizzle a generous helping down your thick shaft and into her gasping hole. She shivers with every slurp of the cold liquid.
>"E-Even if I cry, keep going."
>You spank her fatty earth pony flanks and watch them roll. She yelps, and her distressed little voice only serves to make your cock even harder.
"I admire that spunk, but we'll see if the bravado lasts. There's no shame in tapping out."
>"Don't fuck with me, just fuck me."
"Yes, ma'am."
>You crack your neck and squad over her, aligning yourself with her. You give a few teasing prods just to hear what delightful sound she makes, and her nickers do not disappoint.
>And you'd hate to disappoint her.
>You hilt yourself in a single thrust and she squeals. You rock yourself around inside, stirring, figuring out the best way to break her.
>That soft, squishy, stretchy ring sucking you down seizes, twitching and wrinkling and gasping as it struggles to accommodate you.
>You're rather proud that you're girthier than a horse's cock, even if that's only because they come up somewhere between your knee and your thigh at the withers.
>She groans, sputtering into the floor, hind legs clopping loud against wood as they slide out and she reels them back.
>You blow air hard through your nose.
>This is some top-class ass.
>You pull out with some effort—the lube made it possible, because Coco clearly doesn't want to let you go—and begin a steady piston. In, pause, out, in, pause, out, in, pause, and repeat.

>Barely a minute goes by before she's pissing herself in pleasure.
"How long do you think it's been?"
>"Havva been fibe mints?"
>You chuckle.
"Not even close, sweetheart."
>"Haaaooouu?"
>You slap her again, and again, giving her a new cutie mark. Her voice rises and falls, cut off by your dependable pumping.
"Minute thirty, tops. Still think you can hold out?"
>"Fuh me dummm!"
"You're one of the few to make it this far, Coco! I'm going to make you go the distance."
>The time for talking is over.
>You drop onto one knee and put a hand against the back of her head, sinking your fingers into her mane, forcing it sideways against the floor. Her eye looks back at you, all pupil, heart-shaped.
>You gotta hand it to magical cartoon ponies. Their special effects somehow make everything better.
>Satisfied, you lean your head back, close your eyes, and focus on the practically prehensile pony donut (ponut?) pulling you in, squeezing you, shuddering.
>You lose yourself in the act, grunting and holding Coco down, ramming her until her hind legs can't support all that plot. You go down to the floor with her, hugging her by the neck, pounding away.
>After seven minutes and three more orgasms, she went from squealing to screaming.
>Ten minutes after that, every shop on the block had to be able to hear her, but that's not your problem.
>Fuck, she was so fucking tight. Have you finally met your match?
>Are you going to ejaculate prematurely (relatively speaking)?
>... Hell, do you care?
>She's managed to keep up with you.
>Hasn't tapped out.
>Hasn't PASSED out.
>She's loving it.
>She actually screamed, "NO MORE LUBE! NO LUBE!" when you went back to the bottle for the third time.
>She likes the pain.
>She's perfect.
>You may have met your match, but that doesn't mean you have to give in easily.
>You ease up off of her, one hand on her withers, the other moving for her tail.
>You wrap it around your hand twice.
"Time... for the... finale."
>You YANK.

>Coco Pommel makes an unholy screech, like a banshee's wail, pure, bloody murder. And she actually locks you in as you bottom out.
>She's clamping down on you so hard you can't fucking move.
>The muscles in her ass ripple and wring you over and over and over the edge.
>You keep pulling as you cum.
>You have her ass lifted off the ground as thick rope after rope surge through your cock and spray out through her coiling meat, filling her.
>It has you shouting in nearly painful pleasure and lasts forever.
>You just keep cumming, and she reaches a pitch that breaks wine glasses once your boiling seed overflows, spilling out of her, dribbling down to her slit.
>You gasp, blinking salty, eye-searing sweat from your eyes.
>That was the most intense orgasm of your life.
>This mare is a demon.
>She's a succubus.
>Your little guys must have shriveled up and died. You've nutted so hard you think you've been rendered permanently empty.
>She twists herself around, forehooves crossed, blushed and dazed and happy.
>Somehow, in post-coital clarity, she manages to speak. "M-Magnificent doesn't even begin to describe you, Anon."
"Y-You're not... bad yourself, Coco."
>You pull out, roll off her onto your back and gasp for air, chest heaving. You spill out of her all over the floor. She rolls over herself to hug you, nuzzling in that firm space between your armpit and neck.
>"Marry me."
"Date first. Shit, lemme sleep first..."
>She cranes over you to lick the sweat from your forehead, then... everywhere else.
>Absolutely everywhere.
>A long stretch of silence goes by while you catch your breath and let this horny little mare make you feel disgusting all over—but in a sexy way.
>"When will you be ready for another round?"
>She crawls up on your chest, eyes bedroom, lashes fluttering, breath heavy. Grinding on you.
>You stand at attention.
>Your heart skips a beat.
>You've found her.
"Marry me."
>She giggles and boops your nose with her snoot, "Dick first."