The sun shines too brightly, and I’ve been awake. Friday — no, Saturday morning. It can’t be morning, I’m just awake and it’s boiling hot. Head is thudding. Ponyville summers are strange. It’s all sun and heat. Where’s the constant grey drizzle? I never thought I’d miss Trottingham drizzle, but here I am.
I turn my head and see Scoots’s alarm clock. Nine-thirty A.M.
Too bloody early. Head is still thudding.
“You up, Pip?”
I look directly up and see Scootaloo’s face staring down at me, bleary-eyed. My head rests in her lap. It’s soft and nice and smells like Scootaloo...
Wait, she asked me a question.
“‘mup.”
I crick my neck and sit up, blinking my eyes. Still in Scootaloo’s room. Head is thudding. That’s good. I hate waking up in random places. Never did get used to it. Wonderbolt posters on the walls, dirty laundry — flightsuits for flying, hoodies for tagging — on the floor, scooter parts everywhere, stinks of oil and shisha smoke, the sheets haven’t been cleaned in a week and they stink, they reek of us. Oh, I love to press my nose to those sheets and just inhale.
Rustle. Crump-cromp-krip. Rustle rustle. Krip-cromp-cromp. Wait, what?
Oh, Scoots is eating crisps.
“Chips?”
“Sure.”
She pushes the bag up to my muzzle and I munch up some delicious, spicy crisps. So hungry. Didn’t know how hungry I was. How did I not realise I was so hungry? Damn, these are good crisps. They’re parsnip or something. Delicious.
Now I’m thirsty.
Like a telepath, she holds a jug to my lips. Cider. Black cider. The greatest drink in the universe. I guzzle it down, and my head thuds less and less.
“Thanks.”
“No probs, Squeaky.” She puts the jug back on her bedside table and rubs my mane, just enough to hurt.
“Mmhm. Too damn early and too bloody hot,” I say, sitting up. “Why are we awake?”
“We’re meeting everypony at the lake at eleven.”
I huff like a petulant foal. Honestly, I don’t just have to wake up, I have to walk somewhere? Today? In this heat? Bloody shameful. This is Equestria, not some Russic gulag.
“Gugh. Can’t we just stay in bed?” I sigh.
She clips me on the ear with a feather. “Shit no, don’t even ask. I’m not turning into one of those mares who acts like a total flake just ‘cause she’s banging some random colt. We — we gotta get — we gotta wake...” She stops and bites a thick yawn from the air.
“You were saying?”
She rubs my mane extra hard, then stands up on the bed. “Can it, prettyboy, I have a solution!” She hops off the bed, opens the bottom drawer of her bedside table and does a cute little rummage around. I can see the streaks of dried spunk on her flanks from last night. My dried spunk. I want to lick it off.
Scootaloo jumps back onto the bed with a baggie of pale pink powder in her teeth. “Thith thit’ll wake uth up!”
She tries to open the baggie, but the lining splits and a haze of salts spills all over her neck and muzzle. “Ah piss!” she swears. All that salts. All over her lips, her neck...
I lick a streak from her collarbone to her lips, dragging a trail of sour, chemical salts onto my tongue. Her heart thump thuds thumps under me and I kiss her. Sour salts and bitter morning breath mix, eyes closed, shared heat on a hot day. One of my hind legs slips between hers, and I feel her, I can feel her sex, her hot fucking pussy, her fucking filthy cunt, burning against me, so hot, fucking oh so fucking so perfect.
I draw back and look into her eyes, wild, tired and wanting. She reaches up and kisses me, hot and quick.
“Gimme” she says.
I push my face against hers, nuzzling and rubbing over the salts, nipping the skin, inhaling the dust, covering my muzzle in the drugs. She starts to lick and nuzzle me back, eating the salts off me, sucking at my coat to coax the salts out.
It hits me and I’m twitchy still tired but it doesn’t matter, I’ve got salts through my veins and I’m buzzing. I lick over her lips, sour and salty, hearts twitch like rabbits and I feel her.
We lick and kiss and nuzzle until the salts is lapped and sucked from the hairs of our coats and we twitch and hum. Her hips roll up against mine. We’re very awake now.
She rolls onto her back, wings splayed wide over dirty sheets, her legs wrapped around my hips. She rubs her sex along my cock, slick and hot. I push my hips into hers, not penetrating her, just sliding my dick along her slit, spreading her juices between us. She runs both hooves through my mane, sending a delicious tingle through my skin that ripples down my whole body and I thrust back again and again and she’s biting her lip holding her breath just hissing it out in tiny little moans, the cutest little moans as I thrust and thrust and I line the tip of my cock to —
“Not yet, loverboy...”
I feel a hoof on the top of my head, Scootaloo pushes down slowly but firmly, pushing my head down her body like a cafetiere. My chin trails along her chest and stomach as I wiggle downwards, her coat soft against my chin, reeking of clover and mechanics grease. I reach her nipples, kiss one, hear her let out a little noise and suck it into my mouth and get a gasp of pleasure. She pushes hard on my head again, squishing my left ear and raises her sex to my mouth, her lower lips pink and puffy, the fur around them soaked with her arousal.
I plant my muzzle at the bottom, feeling hot dampness on my nose, and inhale deeply. She stinks of musk and pungent sex. My tongue slips out and I drag it from the bottom of her slit to the top, tasting the salt of dried sweat and her overpowering arousal. I reach my front hooves up and grab her hips as I lick and suck at the base, drinking her sex as she lets out a low, satisfied groan.
Scootaloo grinds her hips against my muzzle and clamps her legs around my head, so my entire face soaks in her juices. All I can smell and taste is her sex, all I feel is her body, I hear nothing with her strong thighs over my ears, and I stare right up at her face, her cheeks blushing, lidded eyes with massive pupils, biting her lip almost hard enough to draw blood. She lets a moan build up inside her, and sighs out a melody of pure lust as I flick my tongue over her button. I eat her out, coating my face and mouth with her juices as she whines and moans and her wings flutter against the mattress and her back arches.
“Mhmhf oh Pip that feels so good just perfect just there right thehhh~” Speech turns to moans turns to low groans and I push my hips down into the bed, soft fabric rubbing against my shaft, precum sticky against my stomach. I can’t take any more of this. With effort, I pull my face from her pussy. A thin bridge of saliva and love fluids connects my lips to her sex, then breaks.
“What?!” she snaps, her eyes full of frustrated rage. She’d been enjoying herself, clearly.
I clear my throat, Scootaloo’s taste still heavy on my tongue. “Fuck?”
Her expression softens and a silly grin spreads across her face. “Yeah.”
I climb up the bed, hips between her legs, and kiss her, hard, lips closed, grunting into the kiss as my shaft slides against her wet sex. Kiss again, open-mouthed, softer now. Our chests are flush against each other, hearts beating like rabbits’. My breath catches and I’m lightheaded. We kiss once more, softest of all as our tongues slip against each other, our eyes shut, and she’s completely close to me.
We break the kiss and I drink in the soft, wanting expression on Scootaloo’s face. Her forelegs slide down my sides to my flanks, feeling perfect against my twitchy, tired muscles. I line up the head of my cock to her slit, and look right into her eyes, waiting for the order.
She swallows. “Do it.”
I press my lips to her neck like an ice cream cone, and bite as I slide my dick into her pussy.
“Oh, fuck!” Her outburst feels almost as good as her slit, near frictionless from the wetness, like sinking into a hot bath, powerful muscles clenching around my length. I moan into her neck as she arches her back. I’m completely inside her, as close as we can get, her heat radiating into my hips and balls. She grabs my face and we kiss, frantic and hungry, pushing our tongues against each other, hooves going everywhere.
I pull my hips back and slide back inside her. She squeaks and throws her head back, then flops back on the bed. I sit up and grab her hips, then start to fuck her smoothly, pulling all the way out and sliding back in, not yet slamming into her, just letting her feel every inch of me inside her as she clenches against me. I grind my pelvis against hers when I’m completely inside her, rubbing her clit with my body. She’s panting, moaning, throwing her head from side to side, her hooves scrambling around the sheets, accidentally batting her crisps off the bed.
We get into a steady rhythm, our hips softly slapping together as we fuck. Our manes are sweaty and disheveled, our eyes twitch from the salts and stupid sloppy grins are scrawled across our faces. Scootaloo gets a devious look in her eyes, and bends her left wing so her primary feathers are next to her face. She trails her tongue across one, moaning as she gently teases all the tiny muscles and nerves in her wing. Then she opens her mouth and nibbles it, growling as she does. My cock is steel inside her, and I thrust harder. Scoots lets out a tiny, squeaky grunt with every thrust, and it melts my heart.
She spits her wing from her mouth. “Pip, pin my leg — ohh — pin my leg up, like, yeah, like that!”
I slide a hoof under her left hindleg and lift it up so it rests on my shoulder. Her legs are stretched apart but she feels even tighter. I run my hoof over her lifted leg, massaging the tight, tired muscles in her quads and thighs. She lets out a noise that sounds like a cross between a lustful moan and a squawk. Her eyes fly open wide and she puts both hooves to her mouth when she realises what she did. I laugh, and plant a kiss on her raised back hoof.
“Mmh!” Her eyes go lidded again. Oh.
“You like that, love?” I ask, planting another kiss on her frog, “You like having your hooves kissed? Just like this?” A third kiss, a fourth kiss, this time open-mouthed, gently pressing my tongue to the soft pad. It tastes of sweat and dirt and I couldn’t care less.
I cover her frog with my mouth and suck, and we keep fucking. The feeling is going, the salts numb everything, but it doesn’t matter, we wouldn’t stop fucking for time itself. She starts giggling and it’s beautiful, like hooves on glass, and I start giggling too. We fuck hard and fast and the feeling numbs. I can’t come on salts. It’s a wonderful buzz, but I might as well be getting a hooficure, I’m not going to come from anything when I’m buzzing on salts. Doesn’t matter though, everything feels so bloody good. I trail a hoof over her nipples as I drag my teeth over the frog over her hoof, feeling her tense up and getting a lovely gasp, then I slide my hoof down to her clit—
*TUNK*
Oh piss my face! My head rings and I nearly fall over backwards. I just got bucked in the eyebrow. Something split. Oh Celestia that hurts. Oh Luna, Scootaloo’s sex is so hot.
“Mwha, shit, you okay Pip?”
It takes a second. Everything throbbles and wobs. Two Scootaloos. Still fucking. Something wet and lukewarm running down my face like milky tea left out on the table.
“Pip I just kicked you in the face,” she pants.
“Mwyeh.” Wet blood dribbles from my brow down into my eye, blinding me..
“Fuck, you’re — fuck — you’re bleeding. That’s metal.”
I put a hoof to my achey eyebrow. Right eyebrow? No, left. It comes back slick and red.
I press down and kiss Scootaloo, pinning her hindleg between our chests. My blood splitters over her muzzle and face. She doesn’t care, she kisses me hard, kisses my lips, my nose, licks my face, licks the blood and the traces of salts and thrusts her hips up into mine.
We’re not even kissing, it’s too lewd for kissing, we’re licking each other’s muzzles, nipping at each other’s necks, my blood is leaking from my eyebrow over her face dying everything red and she just licks it off and spreads it over my face and neck with her tongue. My face throbs from pain as my heart throbs from salts and my cock throbs strong and hot inside her.
We’re laughing again, giggling like morons as we fuck into one another, pushing in and raising up, dopey smiles and trickling blood gluing my eye shut and she’s soaking wet and I can still feel her, feel everything, even through the tiredness and the salts numbing everything and I kiss her hoof again, wetting her pastern with claret, gently touching the top of her nethers with a hoof, softly rubbing it she whines—
“Oh fuck oh Oh OH fuck keep that do that fuck oh that oh Pip—”
—growling now mane over my eyes heart beating in my eyelids, kissing her hoof as I fuck and drip blood and the room stinks of blood and oil and filthy, salty fucks, I’m making out with her hoof, licking it and nuzzling with every stroke, her head is thrown back eyes closed squeaking with every stroke—
“—ohhh Pip that’s ohhh fuck me like I’m Rainbow Dash bite my fucking hoof—”
—scrape my teeth over rough frog hold her leg tight to stop her kicks, blood dripping from my eye to her hoof to her chest splattering speckles onto her stomach and wings, slamming her now, grinding into her with every stroke she’s getting close—
Scootaloo stiffens up, her back arching as ever muscle in her body tenses up. I don’t stop fucking, I can’t stop fucking her now, she’s so close. She’s almost silent, her mouth working open shut and not a single sound coming out.
“Say it,” I hiss, grinding hard into her, “fucking say it!”
It happens. Her walls clench madly around my shaft, squeezing it in a hot, wet vice. Her body lifts off the bed as her wings flap underneath her, pushing her up. She screams at the top of her lungs.
“AHH FUCK RAINBOW SQUEAK!”
We move together, milking out her orgasm, letting it shudder through her with soft little thrusts and grinds. She babbles and giggles and slowly, part by part and muscle by muscle, she relaxes into me. We end up in a tight, shaky embrace, locked together. I slide out of her, cock numb from salts and still hard.
Scootaloo lets out a long, happy sigh. “Wow. That — that was good. Awesome.”
I lean over and kiss her forehead. “Too right.”
“Heh, sorry about the whole ‘Rainbow Dash’ thing,” she says, looking bashful, “it’s just ever since I first started clopping, every time I’d come—”
“You said ‘Rainbow Squeak’ this time.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “No shit? Huh. That puts you in the top—” She raises her right wing and counts on her pinions, “—one.”
“I aim to please.”
“Well, you delivered — oh dude, your face. Wait a sec.” She gets up, hops off the bed and starts rummaging through a pile of clothes and assorted dross, then pulls out a plastic packet. She removes the contents, then gets a bit of tape and sticks it to the wound on my forehead.
“Scoots?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you just stick a tampon to my face?”
She nods. “It’ll keep you from leaking all over my bed until we have a shower, there wasn’t that much blood anyway, only like two shots or something.”
I look her up and down. There are tiny little splotches of red down her chest and belly, and smeared patches of red around her face and neck. “It did get about, though. We look like griffon chefs. Well, I look like a griffon chef. You look like a speckled he—”
“Don’t finish that sentence. Still, sorry ‘bout the eye, it’s gonna swell up crazy-bad.” She grins. “You do look pretty cute with a beat-up face. I should put you in a fight club or something.”
“No. I have an angels face. I’m not joining a fight club because you want me to look like a scouser.”
She grins and kisses me on the nose, then stands up and gets off the bed. “Shame. Now come on, lets get cleaned up. You do not want to try get dried blood out of your coat, and I should know.”
I follow her out of her bedroom and into the bathroom. It’s scrupulously clean. You wouldn’t know the bedroom and the bathroom were part of the same house. Soon, we’re standing in the shower, blissfully hot water running over us, washing the filth and stink from our bodies. I feel a little nudge to my penis.
“Huh, you’re still hard.” Scootaloo peers under my barrel, poking my shaft with barely contained curiosity. The water feels so good over me, washing away the tension and tiredness. Even the thumping anxiety of the salts fades away. “Didn’t you come?” she asks.
“Hm? Oh, I can’t come when I take salts. Makes me numb.”
“We’ve got an hour before we head to the lake, and that sounds like a dare.”
“It’s not a dare—” she takes the tip of my cock in her mouth and moans into it “—sure it’s a dare go wild...”
Relaxation crashes over my body, her mouth cool against the steamy water, sucking me lovingly, pushing her head forward, taking as much of me as she can. Hot water running over me, endorphins coursing through my veins, that damn headache finally going — just perfect.
And to think I used to hate mornings.
