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"Darling, were you two drunk or something?"

"No, my little cupcake."

"Don't you 'little cupcake' me. Normally, when you guys spill your drink all over yourselves, it's because you're drunk. Like at the races that time in first year..."

I frowned, remembering that humiliation. Yeah, so what, we were drunk. We were a lot more fun to be around than the stuck up guys in their tuxes...

"I wasn't drunk. It was Carol's fault anyway."

"Um... how was it Carol's fault? And why did you both snort your beer out your noses at the same time like that? What gives?"

Now I shut up. Memo to brain: Think before speaking. I had to backtrack, and mumbled out something incoherent until she gave up and found something else to nag me about. At least she was predictable that way, thank fuck. Still, it was Carol's fault...and it wasn't just what she said either. The way she said it...

I had to talk to Mike. Surely he hadn't blabbed. Surely?

Oh fuck...

*****

Earlier Today

We were all there, right as rain, ready for the first bounce, the four of us. Me and Stephanie, my beautiful doe of a wife, and Mike my best mate the stud stallion, and his wife Carol. A picnic hamper, and beer completed the picture. For 2 o'clock on a sunny autumn day, we had everything we needed. Well, except our offspring.

My buck Jarryd, and Mike's young colt Grantley. Fuck, Mike went stupid with the name; must have been a reaction to having a boring name like Mike. The poor kid thank fuck was good at football, otherwise he might have been destined for a life of shame.

This was their first game together in the first XVIII for our old school, and we had come back to our alma mater to celebrate the occasion. It had been a long time since Mike and I had graced this same field; it hadn't changed much in those years, still a bit soggy and unkempt. Kind of like us now; at the ripe age of 40, we were both a little frayed and grayed. Still, we could jog five miles in respectable time, and bench press more than our young and cocky offspring. The fact I could barely lift my arms two days after winning that challenge with Jarryd was something I ignored.

We were watching the seconds go round, and getting bored. Our boys would be on in about half an hour, and meanwhile they were locked up in a team meeting. Our wives were jabbering about something or other to do with bed linen, and I exchanged a roll of the eyes with Mike and decided to be proactive.

"Ahhh ladies... we are going for a walk. Thought we might like to explore the old pile of shit one last time..."

We got withering glances, and then the doe and mare went back to talking. I signalled Mike to follow, and we headed round behind the grassy bank, circling the oval as we chatted about our favourite football matches.

We had gone about half way when we spied an open door. Set into a mound under the viewing area, there was an old changing room that, back in our day, had been the main one for the sporting teams. It had been superseded by a fancy glass and brick thing three years ago, but for now it remained, though judging by the cobwebs, it was unloved. I caught Mike staring into the doorway, and he had a huge grin on his muzzle. As he turned to look at me, with the old familiar twinkle in his eyes, I matched it with my own grin. Ahhh... memories.

"Mate, how about we take a look... for old time's sake. Before they bulldoze it."

I nodded and followed. There was one exposed light bulb, and otherwise the only light came from broken windows high up on the wall. The interior was dark, and I could make out the familiar outlines of benches, lockers, showers. And a doorway...

"Remember..."

"Yeah."

We both padded into the depths, heading for the toilets deep inside, as if propelled by the same mysterious force.

*****

Twenty four years earlier.

"Hey look. The rooms are open!"

"Cool! Think we might use them to... have a smoke in peace?"

I grinned at my stag mate. We had come to the school oval to have a kick of the footy on a Sunday afternoon. We also had something special in Mike's pocket, and nowhere good to enjoy it. The privacy of the deserted school changeroom might be just what we needed.

We headed into the dank dark room, both mentally deciding against the first part as being too exposed. Deeper inside though, the toilets beckoned, and we headed for the stalls giggling like we always mocked our girlfriends for doing. We each took one, and I heard Mike fumbling in his pocket for the source of our need for privacy; one bag of seriously wicked weed.

"Got the papers?" he whispered from the other side.

"Why are you whispering?" I whispered back, then realised I was whispering, and we both cracked up in gales of suppressed laughter. As I fell sideways amused by our stupidity, I hit the toilet roll holder to the side of the stall, and the metal box fell from the chipboard partition with a clatter that sounded like a whole dinner service breaking on the floor. We both froze, but heard nothing except the rosellas chirping outside, and relaxed.

"Well, at least we can pass the joint easier..."

I realised the toilet roll holder had concealed a large circular hole in the chipboard, about five inches across. I peered through and saw my bud, calmly sitting on the bog holding the bag of weed. He saw me looking and bent down with a grin on his muzzle and waved at me.

"Hey, how about you do the rolling, Tom. Yours are better."

I felt strangely proud, and held my hand at the wall. Mike pushed the bag through the gap, and I set about rolling up a perfect dhurrie just like we always did, nicely mulled with some Bank tobacco, and then decided as the roller I got first toke. I pulled the Bic from my jeans and lit up, taking a few nice deep puffs and let the smoke insinuate its way into my lungs. Ahhhh fuck yeah...

"You cunt. Let me have some!"

Reluctantly, I passed the joint through the hole where my stallion mate was waiting, and heard him suck in a few lungfulls and give a satisfied sigh. I was feeling no pain; but I did feel the need for more.

"Hey... my turn again."

Nothing, just a long inhalation.

"Hey! Don't hog it all!"

"Awwwww..."

"Stick it back through the wall, you fucker!"

I heard him giggle, then the sound of a belt being opened and fabric moving. Was he taking a dump or something...?

"Here ya go! Smoke this!"

A big pink fleshy cylinder suddenly emerged from the hole. It took me a second to realise what it was, and then I let out a big bleat of surprise. I had seen him in the changerooms before, and in the bathroom taking a piss. Somehow, it looked way bigger than I remembered though... and more alluring.

I knew I was into guys as well as girls by now, though I would never admit it. Something about my big stud horse always made me feel kind of extra warm and horny though, and now, with the weed removing my inhibitions, I lost my anxiety. See cock, take cock. He did offer, after all...

"Hey! Ffucckkk....*whinny*"

I reached out to grip the offered organ, tight. My hand closed on his end, near the flare, and I felt his cock give a jerk and a twitch. He was about to pull back when I brought my second hand up to grip closer to the sheath at the base, and I felt him twitch again. Then he began to swell, right there in my hands.

"Hey! Enough kidding... let me go!"

"You said I should smoke it. Gonna give me the joint?"

"Cut it out! I've finished the smoke, just roll another for fuck sake!"

"Too bad. Gonna have to make use of this after all..."

He was hard now, really rock hard and standing out like a pole. The end looked fascinating, wide and flared, with a big bulge like an apple and a wide open piss slit. I was in another world now, grinning like a maniac, and acting on impulse. I wondered what it might taste like... and of course, in wondering, set out to answer the question.

"Ooohhhhhh..."

It tasted so fine. Hot, tangy, sightly harsh with stale piss and cum, musky and rich. I slid my muzzle down a bit, tasting, feeling. He stopped fighting, and I heard strangled cries and moans and a soft hiss of 'yessssssss'. Then he began slowly humping against the partition, pulling back through my lips, then thrusting forward into my throat.

I used one hand to jack his shaft, and my muzzle to pleasure his tip then took him deep as I bobbed on his end. His taste grew stronger, the taste of aroused pony. His breaths were coming in short gasps now, and then I heard his gruff voice as he gave me a running commentary.

"Oh fuck... ohh Tom... so good... fuck... ohhh shit... I'm gonna... I'm gonna... Tom, I can't hold on... I'm gonna... TOM!"

He erupted with a loud whinny. I wasn't prepared, and horse jizz cascaded from my muzzle over the floor. I lapped it off my chin and tried to take the next shot. It was even bigger, and my throat and muzzle overflowed. And I drank it down so hungrily, savouring the taste, but more than that the sound of his pleasure and the feel of his hot stud cock jerking and swaying in my hand as he lost his nut.

Eventually, he finished shooting and I licked off his flesh. He was covered in the stuff, and I wanted every drop, even when he whined and begged me to stop because it was too sensitive.

We sat back down, and I rolled another and we smoked in silence, then headed out for the stupidest session of kick to kick we ever played. We didn't mention the glory hole or what happened.

But we were back next Sunday, and we did it again. This time I took his whole load, twice. And I managed to get my muzzle all the way down his shaft, until my tongue could slide into his sheath and lap up his funky musk. I was hooked, and so was he, and I thought it would be our little ritual forever, but we found a way to give it up. Reality came to town in the form of both of us getting sprung for smoking pot. And somehow, without the one, we never got the guts to admit we still wanted the other.

*****

...and back to earlier Today

The paint was more peeled, and the smell was worse than we remembered. Nonetheless, we headed for our old spots like we were on remote. Mike to the right, me to the left. I nudged the old toilet roll holder, and carefully lifted it from its spot. There was the old circular glory hole, just as we left it.

"No weed today mate," my Mike gave a sort of laughing whinny.

"Yeah..."

"God, I miss it."

"Me too..." I wondered if he meant the weed or the blowjobs. I know which one I truly missed.

"Have you ever done this... like..."

"What...smoke pot in the school lav?"

"No... I mean um... this..."

"A glory hole?"

"Yeah... with anyone else..." Aaaah... now that was an interesting question. And a hard one to answer truthfully, but I gave a big sigh and plunged into the breach.

"No, mate. Only you. I couldn't... it wouldn't be the same."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

I knew from his voice that he was uncertain. There was a scrape of hooves, and a sigh, but then a soft nicker and a mumbled "fuck it." Now I was uncertain, but any lingering uncertainty was quelled by the appearance of that magnificent horsehood, still pink and thick as I remembered. With one little addition.

"What the fuck?"

"Heh! Yeah, Grant confessed he got one when I caught him rubbing his crotch and grimacing. I thought he has picked up an STD or something. I grounded the little shit for a week, but I must admit I kind of liked the idea. So I decided to follow suit..."

My stud now sported a shining stainless steel ring through his flare. It looked hot; but not as hot as the wide open urethra dripping clear precum like a tap. I took his load like a champ, ring or no ring. And he still dirty-talked his way to orgasm like the fucking hot stud of memory. If only he could have held my antlers and rubbed them while I sucked him off, like I always wanted, but I supposed we had made progress.

I realised we didn't need the weed to give us an excuse. We only needed ourselves.

*****

We returned to the embankment just as the teams were lining up for the first bounce. We both reached for the beers and the sandwiches; something about guy sex made me hungry and thirsty as fuck, though perhaps it was the pot that did it back then.

I necked half the stubbie before I drew breath, and Mike was well into his too. The girls gave us the cold shoulder though, and I knew we were in trouble. My Stephanie was in a right mood.

"Where the fuck have you two been?"

*burp* was the only reply from Mike. Classy dude. I'd have to take the heat.

"What's the problem?"

"You almost missed the start of the match! Where the hell did you two go?"

My mind filled with visions of erect stud cock, crowned by a perfect pierced flare. It was all I could think of. I looked over at Mike, and realised the stupid horse was also stuck, unable to come up with an excuse. My eyes widened, and I sucked beer to buy me time.

Think...

I caught Carol's eye, and that's when I knew something was up. She looked at us both, then stared at Mike, with a dawning smile that was pure heat and wickedness. Then she gave me a wink and picked up a sausage and hefted it still grinning.

"Lighten up, Steph. If I know our boys, I bet I know where they were."

I gulped, and looked at her in trepidation as she nibbled the sausage.

Stephanie frowned. "Oh? Where?"

"Judging by the blush on Mike's face, I bet they were just... reliving past glories. Right, honey?"