Author's Note

Day 6: Sweaty

Pickle Barrel slipped into the brightly-lit lockerrooms of Hope Hollow Middle School’s especially large gymnasium and recreational facility, looking left and right allow the rows of benches and lockers, and to the sparkling-clean showers just beyond. The room was empty, the soft clip-clop of his hoofsteps echoing nearly all the way to the end. When he was convinced the coast was clear, he breathed a sigh of relief and wiped his brow.

One other pony sat a little way’s down, perched on his haunches on a bench, eyeing Pickle the entire time he’d come in. He was a colt, about Pickle’s size, and a pegasus, too. His mane flowed out in front of his face, parted down the middle and often blocking his eyes at the right angle, like when he was trying to read a book on his desk or got too excited.

Next to him, various pieces of school-owned buckball gear; a scratched and dented helmet, some pads and guards, a damp and sweaty jersey with the school’s mascot hastily stitched in. All of these things were strewn around him haphazardly as if he’d taken them off in a hurry and dumped them as he went.

Pickle quietly walked over to him to close the distance while Dawn Droplet regarded Pickle with a look of mild amusement. When Pickle was finally in front of him, the other colt cleared his throat and grinned.

“Coach send ya? Again?”

“Yeah...again.” Pickle winced, glancing toward the door as if considering leaving, but his mind was already made up on staying. “Said you were really struggling in the 3rd quarter and your head wasn’t in the game. Something about the team counting on you or whatever.”

The colt rolled his eyes.

“Sounds like Coach. What a doofus. He never lets me have any time out to rest except when things are really bad!”

Pickle shrugged, making a point not to look him in the eye as he rubbed his hoof, hiding a little beneath the collar of his sweater.

“Yeah, well...I don’t know much about buckball. I’m more into flying class. But I guess he didn’t send me ‘cause he wanted me to give you advice.”

Dawn grinned wider now, his eyes shining with excitement.

“Yeah. Guess not,” Dawn said. Pickle shrugged again. He could smell Dawn from where he was a few feet away. Not a bad kind of smell, like someone who put off showers, but like a colt who worked and played especially hard to impress his peers and the fillies in class. Like he’d worked up a considerable sweat with all his running about.

“So, um...you want me to, y’know...same as always?” Pickle stammered, doing his best to seem cool and casual and failing miserably. Dawn snickered.

“Course. You’re the best at it. That’s what you’re here for right?” Dawn sat back and stretched out his hind legs, showing off his small package. His pink mottled colthood was already pushing out of his sheathe in anticipation as if he’d been prepared for this the moment he saw Pickle come in.

“So glad it’s you and not your sister this time, y’know. I like you better.” Dawn whispered.

Pickle broke the distance in no time at all, leaning forward to let his hot breath wash over Dawn's fuzzy set of testes hanging tight to his crotch. He nuzzled at them, slipping his tongue out to lap at one and then the other, slurping one into his mouth. The faint taste of colt sweat was brought to his tongue, a tangy flavour that Pickle knew all about.

Dawn moaned in appreciation and put his hoof on Pickle’s head, encouraging him to do more. Pickle had no intention of staying where he was and gradually moved up in a little trail toward the tip. When he’d reached it, he swirled his tongue around the tip, appreciating every vein and ridge, kissing it with his lips. He nibbled on the medial ring and planted more kisses on every spot of colour all over Dawn’s shaft. The other colt was almost immediately at full mast and dripping pre, which either splattered on Pickle’s nose or was eagerly lapped up.

Leaning back, Pickle took the tip in his mouth and breathed out his nose as he quickly descended the shaft to the base, letting it prod the back of his throat. He sighed with contentment, feeling immediately at him with a mouthful of cock, and his throat vibrated pleasantly, only adding to the sensations that Dawn was enjoying with a look of blissful satisfaction.

Dawn placed both forehooves on Pickle’s head and grunted approval, humping his hips a little to encourage Pickle to go faster, and he complied readily. Pickle swallowed every inch of colt cock up to the base until his nose bumped against Dawn’s belly. The potent scent of colt musk was even more powerful here, and it was all Pickle could do not to furiously masturbate himself, but he tried to keep cool despite the throbbing erection he was also sporting.

Pickle bobbed his head rapidly, dragging his tongue along the shaft and leaving trails of wet saliva, and swallowed back at the same time to make a suctioning effect that pleased Dawn Droplet even more. The colt above kicked a hind hoof and moaned louder than ever before, and Pickle knew it wouldn’t be much longer.

Pickle doubled down his efforts, the locker rooms filled with the sound of a moaning colt and a plethora of slurps and light gagging. Dawn ruffled Pickle’s ears and gripped the back of his head as his body started to curl and tighten. He was so close.

“Gluk Gluk Gluk!” Went Pickle as he pushed forward and rammed his throat on colt dick again and again. He felt Dawn’s tip started to swell and throb and went faster until his flare plugged his throat and wouldn’t allow him to move anymore. He used his tongue instead, lapping at the medial ring and his balls as they pulled inward and prepared to unload.

Then it came, and so did Dawn Droplet, moaning loudly into the air as spurt after spurt of colt spunk unloaded into Pickle’s throat. Pickle swallowed every drop he could, lapping up anything that dribbled out and down his chin. Dawn yanked himself free before he was finished and unloaded the rest all over Pickle’s face. Pickle opened his mouth and let his tongue hang loose as three more shots of hot, potent cum shot over his face.

As Dawn fell back onto his rump to catch his breath and wipe his forehead, Pickle licked himself clean with a giggle, grabbing a towel to wipe himself off.

“Thanks, Pickle. I’m gonna win this game for the school for sure!”

“See ya!” Pickle, no longer nervous, waved the sporty colt goodbye. “We still on for Saturday?”

“You kidding? You and your sister at the same time? Always!” Dawn waved excitedly as he raced back out into the game, leaving Pickle alone to shower and clean up.

Hope Hollow Middle School successfully won their final game of the season and would take home the area championship for the first time in ten years, and then suffer a crippling defeat in the regionals.