“Oh. Got it! It’s the lamp!”

“I said it begins with a ‘C’.”

“Pssh. You’re probably cheating or something. I’ve named everything in the room! I give up!”

“Are you sure? There’s a penalty.” 

“Penalty schmenalty! Lemme have it!”

You drift through the momentary silence to press your lips to hers.

Crimson rushes to her cheeks and she smiles.

“Oh, I get it.”

“You do?”

“Just an excuse for you to mack on me. Figures.” 

“It was ‘cutie’ by the way.” You give her a boop.
She nearly gags. She hates things like that. If the word saccharine was in her vocabulary she’d use it now.

You sidle up a little closer and she throws another one of her minty candies into her mouth. 

She crunches it between her teeth and swallows it down while you sprawl over the bed.

The bedroom doesn’t carry the same connotations for you two that it might for other couples.
This is not only a place for the exploration of each other’s bodies and interests, it’s a table when you order in pizza late at night. It’s a ring when you have an impromptu wrestling match with one of her wonderbolt figurines acting judge. It’s a gym when you’re spotting her and encouraging just a few more sit-ups. It’s a place to read to her on rainy days with your hands brushing the warmth of her body. 

You both haven’t really ventured far together. Make-out sessions come at least twice a day, and when you’re both in the mood, you’ve come to enjoy joint masturbation.
Rainbow Dash, being Rainbow Dash, likes to make it competitive. See who can hold out longest with the other fondling their genitals.
Your track record is rather shabby, but she has a technique where she draws a tingly feathered touch over your taint with her wingtip, pulls up over your balls and by the time she’s reached your shaft you’ve exploded over her. She’s a pundit at pushing your buttons.

You love that everything’s a game with her. If it’s not seeing who can last longer, it’s lining up side by side with two paper cups positioned on the other end of the room and determining who can launch their respective ejaculate the closest.
You’re proud to say you win that one more often, but she’s tough competition. 

Of course, when she inevitably found out about your fetish for gas, she didn’t let you forget it.
It was already custom for her to let off loud, masculine burps and creeping, smelly farts around the house, but she started unleashing as many as possible right in your face. 
It didn’t really seem to bother her that you found something so strange so arousing, and that’s what you love about her.

She takes everything in stride. You’re absolutely certain not a single thing you could tell her could weird her out. Really, that’s because she’s just as weird and gross and horny as you are. 
Two little weirdos. A perfect match.

You decide that quick kiss wasn’t enough, and hold her head to draw it up to yours, start with a peck on each cheek and finish with a long, tongue-filled smooch right on her mouth.

Pulling away, you see your show of affection has softened her.

She waits until your faces are so close you can taste her breath, and then engages a smelly ambush. 
Her mouth opens to let out a noisy belch that quivers her lips.
The peppermint-tinged air flows over your face.

“Huh. Guess you must be losing your edge.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You call that a burp?”

Instead of responding verbally, she scoffs and tucks her lip under her teeth.
All of a sudden her hoof tightens around your neck and you’re tugged into another meeting of lips. 

Only this time she lifts her shoulders, keeps your lips seamed to hers, and sends a hot rushing belch down your throat. You can taste the depths of her stomach in this one. 
She pulls away into laughter and leaves you wiping your lips clean.

“How’d that taste?” 

It lingers on your tongue. It’s pleasant.

A few seconds pass and she gives you a third, blowing your hair back and stinging your eyes.
There’s an alteration in pitch and she caps it off with a gulp, smacking her lips to taste breakfast and then watching your reaction.

She ends up feeling your reaction instead; a surge in your pants. She seems surprised. But certainly not deterred. 

In fact, she grinds into you some. Works that pique of interest into a fully-formed boner.

“Whoops. Now look what I’ve gone and done.” 

Your fingers lower for a quick brush at her lips and her entire body is filled with shudders.

The burst of pleasure is so sudden it leaves her breathless.

“Whoops.” You mimic, and she leans in to lay a kiss on your neck. 

As you hold her close to you, you both lay down against the sheets.

Your fingers thread through her mane, mess it into a wild new style. One that suits her.
While you press quick kisses over her face, your palm takes a trip from her head to her withers, smoothing her coat down as it rediscovers every curve of her body.
The body you know as well as your own.

As you pass by her wingpit you’re doused in hot sweat.

“Skipped a shower again, huh?” You jibe.

“Oh, says you.” She purrs back, “Would it kill you to shave your ass once in a while?”

A nip at her collarbone silences her and she moans sweetly.
Your hands continue their journey over her body.

You settle on her wings, you’ve found them to be quite a sensitive part of her, and finger the glossy brush of every feather.
Set her shuffling in pleasure with your fingertips strumming every barb like a harp.

Then, your hand sits there motionless. Your bodies lay still and savor the moment.

“Excuse me.”

You open your eyes to find her staring back. Eyes restful and mouth hinted with a smile.

You ask her for what. The latency catches up and a smell reaches you.
Unmistakably sulfur.
You welcome the fresh gas into your nose, pause to savor it, and then dive in for a bigger kiss.

Mouths soften to each other against the sweltering smell of her insides.

Her movements adjust. The next one comes out indiscreetly. A gentle brass note into your groin. 
The warmth stiffens you.

“You’re getting excited. Perv.” 

“Your fault, slob.”

Rolling her supine, any words you might have for each other become primal grunts of delight. Tongues lap at humid open mouths, breaths pump from human to Pegasus and then back. She tastes of peppermint. A fogged display of lusty intent.

The steaming wetness of her lower lips pin your erection to your thigh, all of the excitement brings loud gas gushing over your balls that continues for several seconds.
And then several more.

“Jesus. That was impressive.” 

“You should see what I can do when I’m actually trying.” 

Laughs built on desire fall into another passionate display; loping licks and deep, spit-logged smooches.

The air is renewed with pungent Pegasus digestion. In the moment, it’s an aphrodisiac. The very thing that summons the motivation to stick an idle finger into her.

Her breath seizes in her lungs, starves for a moment. Her eyes pool wide under your gaze. Lips un-pent a jagged sigh of pleasure.

A second finger joins the first, glides into her tract, fills the room with the wet sounds of your fingers whisking through her folds. 

Her muscles seize and out comes an unsteady stream of flatulence. Fluctuating wildly in both pitch and volume. Almost in harmony with the rhythm of your fingers.

She’s about to yell out but your hungry kiss doesn’t give her the chance. 
Instead, this growl of delight is unloaded right into your mouth, down your throat. You swallow her voice and stuff your tongue back inside.

Bodies begin to rock. To shift. A natural rhythm that crosses special boundary. 

The permanence of strong eggy flavor drives your fingers in deeper, balls grinding at her clit with crude movements. 

She’s probably glad you didn’t shave down there now. The bristle of pubes on her sensitive spots set her nerves on fire.

A few more seconds. You’re waiting for the perfect moment. Building her up.

As it arrives, your hips raise above her and your cock straightens to position.

With every ounce of love and ardor powering your movements, you sink inside her.
Both the heat and the tightness embrace you and now she really yells out. 
No amount of kissing can hold her back, her throaty scream flows out of your joined lips and you rear up to let her have this moment.
Your bodies collide again and her mouth rises into a smile of disbelieving delight.

At one time she was so irrationally scared of initiating this. So worried that she might not be able to handle it, or might not even enjoy it.
Those fears have all washed away. She wants it. You know she does, and so you give it to her.
Her pussy burns around you, calling you deeper. Telling you you’re wanted.

Out, and then in again. Your balls slap at her pucker just in time to receive a quick, loud fart. This one is completely involuntary.

“Ffff- nnnhff-!!”

Light specks dazzle her eyes as they hold on you. This wordless moment says more of your love than any string of hushed flattery ever could.

Every shunt rolls across her entire body, drowns it in your momentum.

Your hands close around her hocks and ease her legs wide.
Thumbs wedge into her sweaty fur-sparse legpits.
You can push in deeper, harder, wrapping every inch in oozing muscular folds that conform to your length as if she were made just for you. 
She’s humping you back, forces from both hips contributing to hard, powerful penetrations. You know she’d take it no other way. 

The little squeaks of pleasure you draw out of her, joined with the remaining hints of fart in the air and the tang of raw sex, are almost enough for you to give in to your body. 
This is a game, though; a test of willpower. 

You’re not leaving her unsatisfied and still burning for release. Even if it requires total control. You’re finishing this Pegasus off before you allow yourself the privilege.

Lucky for you, she finishes easy. Late night sessions with your fingers buried into her crotch have told you this. 

You both change position effortlessly. You know exactly where this should go, and take it there.

Her on her side, screaming muffled bliss into a pillow. You raising her leg high and coasting in and out.

Your eyes fix to your cock swallowed and then regurgitated. Washed in so much sticky dash cum it forms a layer.

As much as you’re finding this blindly frantic fuck session invigorating, that little swollen coochie of hers is so cute it deserves closer attention.

You disengage from her and she winks at you, sending forth a quick slobber of arousal and turning onto her back.

You sink low, keep her legs spread, and close your fingers around her lips to tease at them.
They work tender circles along the edges, journey inside and spread to show the glistening salmon flesh aching for release.

Your lips seal over her muff and suckle in one long, slurpy kiss. You taste the sweet of her juices, but it’s not what you’re down here to address.

It catches the light, squirms and slavers. A perfect pussy. The best you’ve ever seen.
A finger trails determinately along her slit, sending it tense with sensation, and settles at her clit.
It’s peeking out the gap, and with two fingers you carefully squeeze it out further.

As both hands lavish her fleshy nub with quick swipes, her wings unfurl and bat against the bedsheets.

“Aughh~! Mnnf!”

“Come on.” Your voice reaches her low and comforting.
“Let it out. Give in.”

“F-Fucking... shit!!” She cries out.

A dribble of wind escapes her tailhole and you bring your tongue to lap at it.
Drilling inside, past those flexing muscles. You rim her and she fills your mouth with hot fumes. 
They make a hollow sound in your throat as you swallow. They taste just as great as they smell.

She’s getting closer. You can tell she is. Her body grows busy with uncontrollable twitching.

You spill words of encouragement and polish her clitoris with two fingers, rubbing hard, fast and deliberate. 

She powers through the pleasure to force out a few last words:
“G-Gonna... put the...r-rain... in Rainbow Dash!”

Her back arcs. Her squeals crack. Spasms pass through every inch of her body and as you move back she shoots off orgasm right down your chest.

It keeps coming in heavy bursts, glazing your arms, pouring onto the mattress, she squirts three more times and you rub at her to work out a second wave of pleasure that you catch on your tongue.
The tang of her nectar is more than agreeable.

The second round takes her, she geysers with so much power you hear her muscles surge the fluids through her body.
You don’t think you’ve ever seen a mare cum this hard or this much.

To look up at her face in this heated moment is to look at a fine work of art.
The inwardly arcing brows. The tight grimace. The sublime satisfaction that clenches her features. She looks so beautiful and desperate and tender when she’s orgasming that you want to kiss her face forever.

You curl her hips up into the air, press her clit in and she erupts loose syrupy strands over her torso. Bathing in her climax. She rewards you with a fiery fart to the face.

The smell alone is enough to finish you off, and you silently quake at the several jolts of severe pleasure. 
Cum paints the bedsheets, messes them. You let the final spurt off at her face but she’s too wrapped up in her own euphoria to notice it.

You wait for her to get every last squirt and dribble out and let her haunches rest back to the mattress.

She’s spent, breathing heavy and shivering softly. As you leave the ecstasy to cool down you lay beside her, cuddle her close.
She returns the affection, her exertion rendering her mute for a few moments.

A kiss warms her snoot and seeps life back into her posture.

“It really stinks in here.” She manages a husky laugh, runs a hoof over your chest.

She’s not wrong. You’re wondering if opening a window would have been a good idea. An acrid cocktail of sweat, flatus and orgasm meet lukewarm in the air.
To anyone else, it might be unpleasant. Even sickening. But to you and Dash, it’s just right. 

“Phew. We need to do something about your diet, windy pone.”

Your fingers grasp one of her cheeks and give it a wobble.

“Am not!”

“Did you hear yourself back there?”

You start teasing her with wet raspberries.
She shuts you up with a kiss.

“Hey. Put your hand back there. On my butt.”

You do as she says, slide your hand down over her belly, across her snatch, cup it right along the sweaty crevice formed between her cheeks.

When she feels you in place she flexes her abs and gives you a boiling silent gust that tickles your palm.
The kind of loose, windy fart that suggests she’s just emptying the tank at this point. 

You retrieve the hand and sniff it deeply. The same eggy notes, but much stronger. An undertone that can really only be compared to the smell of her shit.

“Weirdo.” She smiles.

In response you wrap your hand over her face and watch her smell her own emissions branded there.

The ruffle of wings tells you she actually likes it just as much as you do.

Both swimming in this feverish afterglow, you reach around and pull her close.
You want to hold her like this forever.

Her warmth settles into you, her muzzle sniffs at your neck and licks it affectionately.
Every part of her lets off toasty heat.

Then, you both shut your eyes.
You just lie there in the silence.
Bodies in such tight embrace they are joined into a single entity.