Here’s a quick [NSFW] story I did for @sillyaryanne (who you should 100% check out!) featuring Aryanne and Anon. Enjoy!

    Aryanne hummed quietly, causing her breath to rise from the corners of her mouth in small, steady wisps that lingered momentarily before fading, blending in with the frigid winter air around her. Each steady, uniform step she took left behind four little imprints, exposing the coal black roads that lay just underneath before the gently falling snow swept them away. Her icy blue eyes traced the nearly empty streets, taking notice of the young fillies and colts working together to light the gas lamps that loomed over the streets. Their excited voices echoed off the stone walls, northern and southern dialects mixed, overlapping for common word before diverging once again.

    Aryanne gently tucked her neck tighter against the plush fur that lined her jacket, the lingering smells of tobacco, whisky, and firewood embedded in each fiber, as the sun pulled its rays from the ground beneath her, drawing with it what little heat it had provided that day. There was beauty in the oncoming night. Hues of red and gold that brushed against the looming, shivering trees that had shed their leaves faded to shades of purple and gray that mocked them behind lush evergreen. And just as the sun fell behind the edge of the world, the moon rose proudly, casting quiet rays of ambient white that made each individual snowflake shine before it fell to the crystalline floor below.

    As the last of the stray pedestrians made their way off the streets, she made her way inside, quickly shutting the door behind her, the last wisps of cold wind dancing around her hind legs.

    “Anon,” she asked quietly, looking around the still living room as she pulled off her jacket, hanging it neatly on the coat rack beside her. Save for the crackling embers that painted the walls and her own snowy white coat in a dull, orange glow, the house remained silent. A small smile crossed her muzzle as she peeked into the kitchen, noticing the slew of open drawers and cabinets; a few broken plates among a silverware-littered floor.

    She maneuvered carefully, avoiding the sharp debris in her own little mock dance as her eyes traced over the wine rack that, since that morning, had lost its shining gem.

    “Oh Anon,” she purred, a small tingle running down her spine. “I told you to drink as much as you like, just not from zat bottle. And what did you do~?”

    Aryanne turned her eyes to the stairs which told a similar tale. Paintings that had been neatly hung, lay either upon the floor or in their own crooked lean, peering towards the second floor. Each push against the old, time-stained oakwood, earned a low creak that caused her breath to hitch as her heart beat rapidly against her chest.

    She pushed opened the door to the tucked away guest room, her breathing picking up as her eyes fell upon the sleeping form mere feet from her. The air was thick, stained with the musk that seemed to cling only to human skin. Worn clothing that held traces of soap mixed with the brushed aromas of the city market. What a twisted thing, fraternizing with any common mare or stallion that lingered in the streets. Never knowing if they carried tainted thoughts or held a snake’s tongue. It was sickening and foreign, cruel to the nature of perfection, yet each time he brought home the scent of others, the same, familiar heat rose in her chest.

    Her body trembled as she pulled herself onto the bed, pressing her thin, athletic frame against Anon’s form. A bit of drool ran down the side of her mouth, staining the light fabric of his shirt with dark splotches. She lay against him, letting her hind legs rest on either side as she buried her muzzle in his jacket, inhaling deeply.

    “Heilige Scheiße,” she whispered under her breath, shutting her eyes tight as she nuzzled Anon’s ribs, squeezing her thighs against his sides. Her normal, calm and collected demeanor tossed aside like a common street dweller. Her blonde mane, normally perfectly groomed and tidy, lay over her left eye and shoulders.

    “You’re lucky you know,” she huffed, accent thicker than normal as she rocked her hips back and forth, shuddering as the rough fabric of his jeans pressed against her slick folds. “To have the best of the best touch you like this…”

    She paused for a moment, chest rising and falling quickly as she looked over Anon’s face, checking and rechecking to ensure the drink had kept him from waking, kept him from seeing her this way. Satisfied, she leaned down, gripping the zipper of his jeans in her teeth while glancing at his face through the stray strands of her mane as she roughly tugged at the metal bit.

    The sweet scent of feminine excitement danced alongside masculine musk, causing Aryanne’s head to swim. In her dizzy state, she tugged down the last bit of fabric, squeaking in surprise as his member sprung up, smacking against her muzzle. Her eyes went cross, focusing on the throbbing flesh in front of her. It was far from the first time she had done this, yet each time she felt the lust drunk embarrassment she had the first time. Her heart pounding in her ears, the twinge of anxiety lingering in her stomach. It was intoxicating. She wrapped one hoof around his length, sliding the other between her legs to paw at her delicate folds.

    Her breath danced against Anon’s length as she let out a shaky sigh, her warm breath earning a healthy twitch in response as she traced each inch with her lips, switching between modest little pecks and gentle ghost kisses until she reached the tip. She watched as a bubble of pre formed and quickly disappeared from the slow, steady drag of her slick tongue. To her, the taste was devine, a healthy mix of sweet and tart that danced across her tastebuds before sliding down her throat.

    Aryanne burned redder as she heard a few drips of her excitement land on the wooden floor beneath them, the fur on her inner thighs soaked as her hoof, once making steady, careful movements, now mimicked the inexperience of a celibate. Her other hoof ran carefully along Anon’s length, pausing briefly to allow her soft lips to linger with each kiss before resuming. She loved when he was like this. Unconscious, yet more active than she imagined he’d be awake. Each movement she made, every small whisper under her breath or shift of her body earned a twitch, a slight movement, and to her own amusement, a brief curl of his toes. His body betrayed him, left him vulnerable, left him hers.

    Reluctantly, she pulled away, sitting up to watch the slick tip of his member bob ever so slightly with his rapid heartbeat. She let out a small purr as she dragged her body against him, guiding his member against her silky, plush coat, which left trails of matted fur against her stomach. She stopped just shy of her snatch, pausing briefly to look him over, watching in curiosity as their chests both rose and fell together, in anticipation, excitement, and anxious bliss.

    With a gentle rock of her hips, his tip rested against her warm folds, just barely parting her swollen lips. She swallowed hard, moving her hooves to either side to support her trembling frame. Aryanne swayed her hips as she continued adjusting her position, causing her tail to brush against his legs. As the thin, fibrous hairs ran across Anon’s inner thigh, his body jerked slightly, causing her to lose her balance. In an instant, her motherly hips hit his with a quick smack, her hoof flying to her mouth to hold back her high pitched moan as she impaled herself upon him.

    The sensation was overwhelming, her marehood tightening around the sudden intrusion, tears forming in the corners of her eyes from her body’s forced adjustment. She sat still, panting heavily as she kept her hooves firmly against the bed, sweat matting down the normally stray tufts of fur against her chest, and causing her mane to cling to her cheek.

    She was an absolute mess, hips rocking back and forth as she tried to regain proper control over her movements, only to shudder as Anon’s member brushed against her inner walls with each steady sway of her body, bumping against the entrance to her womb whenever she sat up. It took her a few moments before she was able to raise her hips, eyes rolling back as her muscles clenched around his length, reluctantly letting inch after inch slide out until just the tip remained buried inside her most delicate bits.

    Aryanne sucked in a quick breath, swearing quietly as she lowered her hips, stopping just shy of Anon’s lap before repeating the motion. Quiet whimpers and moans passed her lips as she let her eyes fall shut. Her ears twitched with each slick sound that danced across the small room, breathing interrupted by hard swallows and shuddering pants, her stomach tightening ever-so-slightly.

    How he remained asleep during these sessions, even with tainted drink, was a mystery to her. Her thoughts were interrupted as she felt a stray burst of pre shoot inside her, further coating her already slick walls. She rubbed the side of his leg, shivering as she picked up speed, bouncing faster against him, and tightening her stomach with each bounce to stop just shy of his lap. She could feel his member swell, pushing harder against her walls. She was close. He was closer.

    Anon’s body tensed, prompting Aryanne to drop into his lap just as he hit his climax; wave after wave of seed shooting directly into her womb, the rest coating her walls and running down his length, pooling between them. Her own excitement followed, eyes rolled back in bliss as she felt the final, weaker bursts of his seed shoot against the entrance to her filled womb.

    She slumped forward, cheek pressed against him as a small strand of drool connected her tongue to his midsection. She could feel his breathing slow as she fought to stay conscious, motivated solely by maintaining the stern image she carried. It took what little strength she had remaining to pull herself off of him, face burning as she felt his seed steadily leak out of her, leaving little traces of their midnight fun in zigzag patterns as she stumbled out of the room, closing the door behind her.

    Morning came quickly, slivers of golden-red light cutting through thin fabric and dancing across Aryanne’s face, pulling her from the warmth and comfort of sleep. She arched her back, stretching out as far as her muscles would allow her, a sigh of content passing her lips. Aryanne slipped out of bed, following her usual routine, from warm water washing away what little evidence remained of the night prior, to fixing her mane and dawning her winter attire and signature peaked cap.

    She already heard Anon moving about the house, no doubt believing that he had, once again, drank himself under the table. The very thought caused her to smirk as she made her way down the stairs, her eyes landing on Anon picking up the remnants of broken china.

    “I told you not to drink mein wine,” she cooed, mockery lining each of her words as she walked past him, grabbing her coat and steadying herself before slipping it on.

    Anon groaned lightly, leaning on the counter as he stood, flicking the bit of ceramic into the sink. “Can we talk about this later,” he muttered, “My head is killing me.”

    Aryanne dismissed his words with a quick wave of her hoof. “I expect that bottle to be replaced,” she said calmly, “There are some Marks on the table.”

    Before he could reply, she turned and made her way out the front door. The brisk winter air brushed against her, catching what little droplets of water remained in her fur. As the streets slowly came to life with scampering schoolponies making their way to classes, and adults tidying their homes before making their way to work, Aryanne hummed softly.