Shining Armor teases Cadence at a formal dinner party. She is not one to let it go so easily.
Dinner parties are so boring. Shining Armor uses a touch of magic to spice it up a little. His wife is annoyed at first, but soon develops a devious plan of her own. Can be read before or after The Cookie Jar. Definitely clop, but with some sweetness and light.
Contains: sleep fetish, standard deviations and even a little feels. Cover art by spier17
“I say, did you hear me, Princess Cadenza?” A stuffy voice snaps me out of my bored malaise.
“Hmm?” I reply, a little lost. The others at the round ballroom dinner table are looking at me expectantly.
Somepony kicks me under the table, and I look over at my husband. He nods his head in a subtle, but an emphatic reminder to be polite. Blue Blood repeats his question. “Wouldn’t you agree that the Griffon Kingdom’s recently revised fiscal policy represents a regression to a pre-Crystalian Liberation and isolationist stance on trade?”
“Oh…” I blink several times, then recover adequately. “They certainly are eager to reassert their position as a financial powerhouse in the region, but I think it would be prudent to judge their policy in the context of their history, rather than just in terms of short-term gains.” It’s a bullshit answer, but it seems to satisfy him. The discussion moves on, and I start to zone out again.
The conversations at these events have become so predictable. So circular. So boring. It’s not that I don’t care. I really do. After all, such matters represent my life’s work. It’s just that the minutiae of it becomes redundant and grating after a while. My elaborately styled mane itches, but I don’t dare scratch it. My eyes slowly wander over the other regal guests seated around the table. My husband Shining Armor sits directly to my left. Next to him is his little sister. Then there is our host for the evening, Prince Blue Blood. Beside him are Celestia and Luna, positively glowing in their regalia and timeless poise.
Further around the table, there are several other delegates, dignitaries and other politicians whose names I can’t remember. Waiters dart to and fro, attending to our table and a dozen others like it. A string quartet drones on pleasantly in the distance. I sigh quietly to myself and levitate a celery stalk to my mouth. As I chew, I glance at an ornate grandfather clock against the wall near our table.
8:32. The keynote address won’t even begin for another half hour. Fortunately, my husband already mentioned that a prior engagement will require our attention at 10:00. Still, if I can survive that long without passing out into my bowl of soup, it will be a minor miracle. At least one other guest seems to be sharing my misery; I meet Princess Luna’s gaze for a moment, and she half-smiles knowingly. I return the smile, then stare numbly at the table’s floral centerpiece.
Something brushes against my flank. I glance over to my right, but nothing seems amiss. The intricate folds of my dress appear to be undisturbed. I look to my left, just in time to see my husband’s tail flick back into place. I narrow my eyes at him, but he’s simply nodding in agreement at some dull observation another guest is sharing.
Fine. Two can play at this.
I levitate another celery stalk, using it as a pretense to use my magic without drawing attention. As I pretend to examine the vegetable, I send a second burst of magic to pull Shining Armor’s tail. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him freeze momentarily. I chew the celery and feign interest in some troubling discussion about the widening standard deviations in crop yields.
A sudden tickling sensation on my hind hooves makes me almost bite my tongue. I swallow the celery and purse my lips together. The conversation has moved on to the drought that is nearing emergency levels in Appaloosa. It would be incredibly inappropriate for me to laugh right now. The tickling intensifies. Out of desperation, I raise my water glass to my lips, mentally directing a surge of magic to pinch my husband’s flank.
The tickling on my hooves ceases, and the conversation moves on again. I stop pinching him, but the second I let up, he sends a soft ethereal caress over my breasts. I draw in a sharp breath and hold it, then lower the glass and glare at him. He refuses to look at me, using his magic to idly stir his soup, instead. After a few seconds, he stops teasing my breasts. My relief is short-lived, however. The magical massage slides a few inches lower and begins to gently rub my crotch. I bite my lip and stare at him, silently willing him to give it a rest.
No such luck. Just past him, and directly in my line of sight, I notice Twilight giving me a quizzical look. I can’t tell how long she’s been staring at me, but her mouth is half-open in a confused frown, and one eyebrow is raised suspiciously.
“Are you ok?” she mouths silently. I nod a little too quickly, blush, and dab my lips with my napkin.
“I’m fine.” I lie, mouthing my reply to her.
Just then, the magic gives my lower lips a soft pinch. I stifle a surprised yelp, and quickly levitate my wine glass to my lips. My breaths are a little shorter and a little quicker than I would like, and each time I exhale my breath steams up the inside of my glass. Somepony at the table is lamenting a recent deadlock in discussions between Saddle Arabia and the United Mare-ab Emirates. Without skipping a beat in his teasing, Shining offers his take on the matter.
“Although most of the time, it’s just a bunch of sabre rattling…”
His magic vibrates fiercely against my little nub.
“...there’s no harm in letting them all say their piece, even if it seems to come from a...sharp tongue.”
As he says sharp tongue, the vibrating magic surges upwards, through the opening and into my depths. I close my eyes for a minute, forcing my face to remain a mask of regal civility. The conversation moves on, but the vibrating invader stays where it is.
Wait...am I sweating now? Great.
I lower my glass slightly as I swallow a sip of Caberneigh. Peeking over the edge of the glass, I lock eyes with Celestia. I freeze. The magic between my thighs continues its invasive treatment, either not knowing or not caring that I’m dangerously close to getting busted. My eyes widen and my pupils shrink to pinpricks as I continue to meet Celestia’s gaze. Her face is a mask, and I can’t tell what she’s thinking. With a gulp, I swallow the last of the wine and slowly lower my glass. His magical affections transform into a tongue, which proceeds to slide torturously over my clit. I flinch and blush harder. Unable to do anything else, I force a lame smile and shrug. Still staring at me, Celestia’s mask cracks ever so slightly. She slowly shakes her head and gives me a knowing smile.
Then she twists the knife.
“How do you like the soup, Shining Armor?” she asks my husband, her smile and cool gaze lingering on me. Tearing my eyes away from the Sun Goddess, I turn to glare at him. He continues to stir the soup magically, taking his time in answering the question.
“It’s fantastic.” He finally answers with a smile. “In fact, I think I could eat it all night.” With that, he redoubles his magical tongue torture, apparently hell-bent on ruining my social status forever.
I clench my jaw and glance at the clock.
8:34.
Are you KIDDING me? I think in exasperation. This is going to be a very long 86 minutes.
I almost broke a leg in our hurry to get to the carriage. Fortunately, a broken shoe was the only damage when I tripped while running down the stairs. Maybe that fourth glass of wine wasn’t such a great idea. I loved those shoes. But right now I don’t particularly care. I kick off the other three and we accelerate into a full gallop. We’re almost there.
Shining Armor laughs as he helps me along. We’re out of breath as we finally reach the waiting carriage. The driver stands up, presumably to help us inside, but my husband waves him off.
“Just get us to the guest suites” he says hurriedly. I lean against the side of the carriage to catch my breath while Shining opens the door.
The driver seems a little confused. “Actually, sir I’m already going there. Is it ok with you if there’s--”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, it’s fine.” Shining interrupts. He hefts me inside, almost tossing me right out the other side. He climbs in after me and closes the door.
It’s very dark inside, and I have to find him by the sound of his breathing. He is seated on a generously padded bench along the back wall. I stumble over to him and press my lips against his.
Actually, I miss the first three times. When our lips finally meet, he wraps his hooves around me and I melt into his embrace. Our kiss is abruptly interrupted by the jolt of the carriage moving forward. My eyes are beginning to adjust to the dark, and I can make out his face in front of me. I clamber to the narrow row between the forward-facing and rear-facing benches. Facing him, I kneel and look up at him. He’s still breathing heavily, and I can see the impressive outline of his erection right in front of me. I lick my lips as I stare at it.
I put on the most sensual look I can muster and declare in a harsh, somewhat slurred whisper “I’m going to suck your cock until the sun comes up.”
A soft purple glow begins to emanate from his horn, filling the small room in a cozy light. He loves to watch, and I love to watch him watching. I meet his gaze as I lower my head, sliding my lips over the bulging tip. The purple glow makes his blue eyes shine in violet radiance as his shaft slides across my tongue.
“Well don’t mind me.” A scratchy old voice startles both of us. My husband gasps and halfway jumps to his feet, which only shoves his considerable length deeper into my mouth. The unexpected thrust makes me gag and sputter. We both look over at the source of the interruption and see a well-dressed old mare sitting on the other bench. She stares at us, snickering softly, a wide grin on her wrinkled face. She clearly recognizes us.
In the soft purple light, I recognize her as a member of parliament. My ears droop in humiliation. She must be loving this. In two days flat, word of this will make its way to every board room, dive bar and schoolyard in the kingdom. I’m certain of it.
That’s it. I’m ruined.
I hang my head.
“Umm…” Shining Armor attempts a little damage control. “You’ve met my wife, Princess Cadence Mi Amore Cadenza? The uh...Princess of Love?” He smiles timidly.
“My...job’s never done?” I add as a lame excuse.
She laughs warm heartedly, her jewelry clinking softly in time with her mirth. Her laughter runs out of steam after a few seconds, and she waves dismissively. “I did a lot worse when I was a younger mare.”
I feel a little tension subside, and she continues. “Why, this one time I was with these two strapping colts in a carriage just like this one.”
She looks around thoughtfully. “Might actually have been this one.”
Shining and I trade nervous glances.
“They were fresh young recruits with the Royal Guard.” She leans toward me and whispers, like she’s telling a dirty secret. “They were twins, actually. And I tell you what, you haven’t lived until you’ve had one in each of your--”
I cringe -- as politely as I can -- as she piles the lurid details onto her trapped audience.
For the next twenty minutes she rambles on and on about everything from the poor state of sex education, to her disapproval of the selections that the string quartet had played during dinner.
“Oh look, we’re here!” Shining Armor interrupts as the cart finally comes to a halt. A few seconds later, the driver opens the door to let us out. We both give her desperate smiles as she takes one step out of the carriage. She halfway turns back to us and puts one hoof gently over her heart. With a sincere smile, she raises the hoof to her mouth and makes a “zipped shut” motion. Still smiling, she steps outside and walks away.
Shining lets out a heavy sigh of relief. Peeking outside, I can see that we have in fact arrived at our destination, but at a different entrance than we’ve been using during our weekend stay in Canterlot.
“Driver, can you take us to the East entrance, please?”
“Right away, Your Highness” he replies crisply before closing the door and resuming his position at the helm of the carriage.
“Well, she was um, sweet.” I remark, unable to shake the horrified grin I had been wearing for the past twenty minutes. My cheeks are actually hurting from cumulative effects of smiling politely all evening.
“For a creepy old hose hound.” Shining adds. We both burst into laughter.
The vehicles starts forward with a jolt, and we are silent for a few seconds. I look up at my husband and find him smiling down at me mischievously. I slowly look down and see that his erection has returned, stronger than ever. In a heartbeat, my lips are wrapped around it again. Kneeling in front of him, I suck on it ferociously, easily taking half of its length into my mouth and throat. My hair bounces a little each time I raise and lower my head. I close my eyes and enjoy his musky taste and scent. The rhythm of the wheels rolling over cobble stones is marvelous; the carriage, the bench -- and by extension, his rod -- take on a pistoning motion, pushing his erection relentlessly into the back of my throat. I feel something warm trickling down my inner thigh.
In this moment, I believe I really can suck it until the sun rises.
Without warning, he grabs my horn between his fore hoofs and yanks upwards, lifting my head and roughly turning me around. I don’t resist or ask questions as he bends me over the rear-facing bench. He lifts my evening gown up and out of the way, exposing my bottom and nether bits. As quickly as I had gone down on him, he mounts me and thrusts his entire length into my slick canal. Half of a moan escapes my throat before I bite down hard onto one of my forelegs, still nervous about the driver hearing us.
I barely get to enjoy half a dozen thrusts before the carriage once again comes to a halt. We freeze for a moment, and I hear the driver dismounting. In a panic, I push my husband off of me and quickly work to fix my hair and evening gown. The instant I manage to get everything back into place and sit down like a normal, civilized passenger, the door opens.
“Why thank you” I say, smiling regally. He doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss.
I step out of the carriage and quickly thank the driver. With me distracting him, he doesn’t seem to notice the raging hardon swaying back and forth beneath my husband’s belly as he exits the carriage after me. We make our way inside the building. The East entrance tends to be less busy than the main entrance, and we have no trouble getting to our room without anypony seeing us.
With a momentary flash of my horn, I activate the magical lock and the door to our suite swings inward. I squeak in surprise as a purple aura engulfs me. Shining’s magic sweeps me off my feet and he carries me over the threshold. The universe slows down as I’m carried through the doorway, and I meet his kindly gaze. In this moment, I’m taken back to our wedding night. My eyes moisten slightly, and I blink away a tear. He smiles at me, and still holding me up with his magic, he kisses me tenderly. I close my eyes and savor the moment of intimacy. The closeness. The gift of...this. His lips taste like the blackberries and cream we shared for dessert.
Suddenly his head pulls to the side, breaking our kiss.
“Oh cool, a water bed!” he exclaims. He sets me down a little hurriedly, slams the suite door, then runs over to the bed and belly flops onto it. I smile and shake my head. He’s such a kid sometimes. As I watch him do an improvised backstroke on the wafting surface of the water bed, a devious idea begins to form in my mind.
I groan and rub my eyes tiredly with one hoof. He stops fake-swimming and looks over at me. I yawn dramatically and keep rubbing my eyes.
“Everything okay?” he asks, suddenly concerned.
“It’s been a long day.” I say through another yawn. “I think I’m going to take a bath and get some sleep.”
“...oh.” He says, his ears drooping in disappointment.
“Don’t worry, dear. Our first appointment isn’t until 9 tomorrow morning.” I flutter my eyelashes at him and add “I’ll take care of you first thing in the morning. I promise.”
He smiles weakly, still a little disappointed.
“First thing” I repeat over my shoulder. Trying not to smile too obviously, I walk to the suite’s bathroom.
With my magic, I turn the brass knobs on the oversized bathtub, then I add half the contents of a bottle with a picture of bubbles on it. Within a couple minutes, steam fills the room. I hum tunelessly to myself and undress while the tub fills. The evening gown crumples to a heap around my hooves, and I step out of it. Looking in the mirror, I use a cluster of magical tendrils to remove the myriad pins and clasps that secure my mane. Gradually, I pick apart my ornate hair-sculpture, undoing the steps that some stuffy neo-classical ponies arbitrarily thought to be “proper”. I briefly hope that -- for their sake -- they at least had a stallion or mare who could make their knees weak after a day of such maddeningly pointless work.
After shaking my mane loose at last, I glance through the door to the bedroom. The lights are out. I turn off the water, and in the new silence I can just make out the sound of my husband’s breathing as he sleeps. I resume my soft humming and gingerly step into the tub. As my hoof breaches the surface, the hot water sends shocks of pleasant pain up my nervous system. I shiver a little, then step all the way into the tub. Very slowly, I lower my body into the steaming, bubbly bliss. Finally, I lean my head back against the porcelain and let my mane down into the water. At first it floats on the surface, but as it becomes soaked, it splays out in a pink, purple and yellow morass around my neck and shoulders.
In the distance, the the clock tower chimes once, indicating the bottom of the hour. It’s 11:30. I told him I would take care of him in the morning, and I fully intend to. Smiling devilishly to myself, I slide a hoof between my thighs and begin to slowly rub in a circular motion. I close my eyes and breath through my mouth as I gradually increase the pressure and speed. A half hour is plenty of time to let him drift into a very deep sleep, and he’ll need to be sound asleep for what I have planned. Until then, it’s going to be a very long half hour.
A gentle crackling sound accompanies my every movement. Every rise and fall of my chest. Every stroke of my marehood. Every heartbeat seems to disturb the water enough to release a hushed fury of popped bubbles in my bath. At long last, the distant clock begins to chime.
At the first of its twelve notes, I inhale a heavy, shaky breath.
At the second note I swallow hard and hold that breath.
At the third note, I rake a forehoof across my crotch in one final, delicious stroke.
At the fourth note, my wings splay out beneath me, arching my back in feverish anticipation.
At the fifth note, I clench my thighs together until my knees touch.
At the sixth note, I think I might come right here and now.
During the seventh, eighth and ninth notes, I hold my breath, still not sure if I’ve pushed myself over the crest.
At the tenth note I know that I have not.
At the eleventh note, I raise a hind hoof out of the cooling, bubbly water and rest it on the drainage valve.
As the final note rings, I push the lever, opening the valve to drain the tub.
I finally exhale.
The warm water ebbs, but my heat does not. As I stand up and brush away clumps of bubbles, steam rises visibly from my coat. My knees are a little shaky. I levitate a towel to me, running it quickly over my pink fur. I start with my face, then vigorously towel down my neck, sides, back, wings, belly and legs.
I toss the towel aside and levy a fresh pair to squeeze out my mane and tail, respectively. As I finish wrapping up my long hair, the last of the water gurgles out of the tub, leaving a thick coat of leftover bubbles. I glance in the mirror and see that my eyeliner has run a tiny bit, but not so much as to look trashy.
Satisfied, I flip off the light switch and walk into the bedroom.
Moonlight streams through the large windows. A bedside clock reads 12:01. For a moment, I wonder if the Great Watch Tower is close enough for Luna to see us through the window. I quickly dismiss the thought as irrelevant. I’m sure she’s seen much worse in everypony’s dreams by now. As I approach the bed, I start to make out the form of my sleeping husband. He is on his back, on top of the covers, as if he passed out right in the middle of that silly backstroke.
I slink around to the foot of the bed and tentatively place one hoof on the mattress. It makes a wet squishing noise, and I suddenly remember that it’s a waterbed. I scowl slightly, wondering who makes these things anymore? No matter. I close my eyes and summon a stabilizing spell. Its nature is partially telekinesis and partially temporal distortion. Its effect is simple, though: it raises me off of the carpet with but a half-flap of my wings, and it dampens the waving, rippling movements of everything around me, including the waterbed. A soft blue glow fills the room as I hover -- as if in slow motion -- closer and closer to my lover’s sleeping form.
With this spell, I need only flap my wings several times a minute. I saw Twilight use this once, as part of a laboratory procedure to avoid disturbing unstable chemicals. While working under its effects, she had looked like a glowing underwater spectre, with wings, tail and mane floating in an ethereal shroud. Tonight I couldn’t care less about lab procedures. I just want to keep from waking him, and to look damn sexy in case I do.
Within seconds, I am directly over Shining. His breaths come and go in a slow, deep rhythm. His blue mane rests haphazardly around his horn, swaying ever so gently as I sluggishly flap my wings every few seconds. His half-erect penis rests against his stomach.
I lose track of time as I stare down at him. Time to take all of that passion, all of that unfulfilled teasing from tonight, and focus it into an erotic experience worthy of royalty. Tonight, I am a Succubus, descending onto my lovely victim as he dreams a torrent of naughty visions. The whole idea of it makes me so fucking hot. Under my spell, my entire body, the bed, the whole room shimmers in faint blue incandescence.
Now I’ve stood by and waited long enough. I lower my body to his, placing a kiss on his neck. He shivers, but this only makes me more hungry. I drop kiss after kiss down his neck, chest and stomach. As I approach his loins, I see that he has unconsciously anticipated my arrival. His erection stretches nearly halfway to his chest, and the sight of it makes my stomach growl. I lower my head to it, sliding my tongue from base to tip.
Yuck. Wow. I forgot that he had been rutting me in the carriage before I had a chance to bathe. My own unwashed nethers are not exactly my favorite flavor in the world. I smack my lips in displeasure, and nervously glance up to his face. He’s still sleeping like a baby.
Suddenly I remember that my mane and tail are still wrapped in bath towels. I raise a hoof to my mouth, silencing a horrified gasp.
Jeez, Cadence, why don’t you rock some hair curlers and a mouth guard while you’re at it?
I scowl at my own sloppy preparation, shuddering to think how ridiculous I would look if he were to wake up and see a magical, floating towel lady trying to suck him off. I shake my head. So stupid!
Wait...I have an idea.
With a thought, I peel the fabric from my tail and mane, freeing my wet hair and allowing it to flow down my back and hind legs. Under the effects of the spell, some of it floats freely. I shake my head slightly to amplify the effect. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a large window over-looking the city. Long strands of pink, purple and yellow waft gently down my neck and form a faint halo around my glowing horn. Sure enough, it looks like I’m drifting underwater. I can’t help but smile.
With one of my recently-removed towels, I gently wrap up my husband’s penis and stroke it a couple times. Under my magical grip, it is firm and eager. I slide the towels over his exposed skin, teasing and cleaning it at the same time.
After a few strokes, I toss the towel aside and resume my oral ministrations in earnest. I use the tips of my fore hoofs to grip his erection and lift it towards me. With a slight uncertainty, I touch the tip of his penis with the tip of my tongue. It tastes like bare flesh and smells like bubble bath.
Emboldened, I move a forehoof down between my thighs. I start gently, but soon find myself grinding harshly against my sensitive lower lips and the hood of my clit. The high tension from the evening's combined teasing surges ahead quickly, as if annoyed that it had been derailed so many times. Before I know it, my hoof is glistening and the fur over my fetlock is soaked. A lovely pressure builds just below my belly, and I embrace it. I moan, my mouth full of cock, as I climax. My eyes roll back. Strands of drool slide down my chin. My knees press together. My entire body aches as waves of pleasure course through me.
Under the effects of the spell, dozens of stray droplets of my sticky fluids drift free, as if in zero gravity. As my senses return, I glance down, seeing those droplets gently land upon and soak the bed spread, my legs and my husband’s hind hooves as I continue to pleasure myself.
Seeing this, something snaps inside me, and I push my head downward, thrusting his achingly stiff cock deep into my throat. As it reaches my tonsils I utter a low moan, sending vibrations through my throat, down his shaft and into his loins. I feel him twitch hungrily in response.
His breathing hastens slightly, and I begin to rapidly bob up and down, sliding his shaft past my lips and over my tongue, forcing him deeper into my throat with each motion. Now I can taste salty beads of pre-cum dribbling from the tip. I pull him all the way into my throat until his scrotum is just past my lower lip. Holding him there, I swallow. My throat constricts around his invading shaft, squeezing out another little spurt of pre-cum to nourish my starving core. He won’t last long like this.
Holding him in my mouth, I look up at his sleeping form. His hips are bucking slightly, hungry for release, but entirely dependent on me for it. Beads of sweat dot his muscular chest. Blue strands of mane hair stick to his brow. His eyes dart side to side beneath his eyelids. His horn is beginning to sputter to life, involuntarily glowing under the stress.
I lift my head, slowly removing his cock from my throat. As it slips free, I gulp in deep breaths of air. A little bit of saliva stretches from my lower lip to the tip of his penis. I lick my lips and the strand breaks.
With a flap of my wings, I swim through the air. I lift my torso upright, curl my hind legs beneath me and position my crotch over his still-thrusting hips. Steadying his shaft with my magic, I rub the tip of his erection against my clit. Beads of pre-cum mix with sticky strands of my own juices, and I shiver. Gripping him tightly, I lower myself further, forcing him into my vagina.
I grit my teeth and breath harshly through my nose. As it slides in past the halfway point, I can’t hold it anymore, and I moan at the ceiling. As I tilt my head back, my wet mane tumbles against my back and my wings. This makes me shiver and moan again.
Still sleeping, Shining bucks upwards abruptly, forcing his shaft the rest of the way inside me. I wince at the sudden stretching sensation, but the sharp pain gives way to the building pressure of another orgasm. As he continues to thrust into me, I reach down and paw at my swollen clit. This time, I barely touch it when my pelvis burns and twitches into another fiery climax.
My inner walls clamp down on his shaft, and my chest heaves in an unexpected sob. A tear slides down my cheek. My hind legs instinctively grip around his, holding his hips against mine in a vise-like grip. I sob again, overcome by the raw emotion of the moment. My vagina tenses and releases again and again. More tears fall down my cheeks, some drifting away in the spacetime anomaly of my spell, and others falling onto my teats and his stomach.
Left unchecked, my magic propels the spell even further. The two of us float a few inches above the bed spread. Wings, tails and manes float freely in the faux gravity well. Beads of sweat and other fluids drift free and orbit us in shimmering rings. All throughout, the crystal blue glow permeates the room, pulsating in time with my orgasm.
With some effort, I focus through my own aching pleasure, and see that my love is very close to his own release. His eyelids flutter open, and he looks up dizzily to meet my gaze. I blink away my tears. With a mighty flap of my wings, I tears my hips away from his, launching a slow-motion geyser of my fluids into our little orbit. He closes his eyes and opens his mouth in a silent moan of pleasure. Ignoring the mess, I drift back and kneel over him once again. I take his twitching member into my mouth, and he opens his eyes again.
My lips and tongue slide down his length until he bottoms out somewhere near my trachea. It smells and tastes like my cunt, but much cleaner than before. After two mind-numbing orgasms I don’t really care anymore, anyways. My gag reflex tries to expel him, but I forcibly keep him in place. The spasmodic clamping around his shaft is more than he can handle.
His scrotum contracts and he gasps.
His horn sparks brightly. My wings stretch out reflexively.
Our eyes meet. He has such pretty blue eyes.
I do that eyelid flutter that I know he loves.
I moan.
We close our eyes in unison.
In this moment -- right on the brink -- I’m not sure if he sees me, his highschool sweetheart and loving wife...or a ravenous, uncompromising, glowing, ethereal spectre of a Succubus.
I hope it’s both.
I really do.
Semen gushes down my throat. Wave after sticky, bitter wave. It’s so far back, I can’t even really taste it, though. My throat works in a swallowing motion until his load is spent. His breath comes in ragged gasps, and I slowly slide my head back, dislodging his member from my airway. As soon as it’s free, I gulp air hungrily.
The blue glow fades from the room. The orbiting field of debris slowly dissipates, collapsing onto the bed. My husband and I drift downward, the gravitational effect faltering and then failing with the last flicker of light. He sinks partway into the water bed, still laying on his back. I land with my knees on either side of his legs. Only moonlight is left. I glance over at the bedside clock.
12:03.
“I promised I would take care of you first thing in the morning.” I whisper lovingly.
He grunts sleepily, already drifting away again. I smile and lean forward, resting my head on his chest. His heart pounds through ribs and skin, thumping against my ear.
“And mine beats for you too, my sweet.” I murmur.
After a long moment, I get back up, and pull the blanket over to cover him up. My mane is still wet, and getting cold. I quietly walk back to the bathroom to find a blowdryer. I can hear the steady sound of his breathing. Even being in the next room feels too far away.
I need to dry off as fast as I can manage. I need to get back to him. To feel his warm embrace.
