college life – Mansploitation

The Fat Jock

Davy is the biggest linebacker on the football team, and he’s too big for most women… That means he’s just perfect for Bart! Bart loves big bellies, big guys and big meat! Can Davy satisfy his expansive needs?

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Read the whole thing here!

“C’mon, man…” Zack pleaded. His dimples were maddening though. Davy Mitchell hated Zack’s dimples and his handsome face. Every moment he was near Zack, he got angrier. He wanted to punch Zack into the dirt.
Of course he couldn’t do that. But he had other plans that would feel almost as good, he thought.
Zack Beauchamp was a freshman and a backup lineman. He would be taking Davy’s place when Davy graduated this year. Zack was younger than Davy. He was smaller, more handsome, cleaner, smarter, more articulate and more charismatic. He had a normal voice. He was majoring in a real subject, math, and he did all of his own work.
In contrast, Davy had an Asian nerd do his homework, even the ultra-simple coursework from his communications-major classes — he could do that. Communications assignments tended to be things like “find a YouTube video of a person communicating and write four sentences about it” — dummy work. Davy could do that. He was not a retard.
But football practice took so much time. How did Zack find the time to go to practice and learn math? Davy felt like he didn’t have enough time to write four sentences about a YouTube video. Hell, Davy felt like there weren’t enough hours in the day to shower and shave and eat eight thousand calories.
And Zack did math?!?!?!
Davy did need help for some of his academic work, because he wasn’t a good student. Math was hard. English was easy, but writing essays took forever. History was too much memorization. Science was hard, plus you had to go to labs and that took a lot of time. Davy was glad no one took attendance for him, and his Asian tutor was prompt and reliable.
But he had noticed and been hurt by the fact that his coaches never once asked if Davy could do the work on his own — they simply assumed he needed a tutor to cheat for him. They didn’t even think he could do communications on his own, and that was just basic speaking and writing. A smart parrot could earn a communications degree.
Ultra-handsome Zack could probably earn a communications degree in a weekend.
Zack was good at math; he actually liked math. Davy thought that was preposterous. He had thought it was a joke when Zack said it. He didn’t even really realize it was allowed for a football player to take real classes and do the work.
How the fuck do you enjoy math? It’s just numbers!
Davy hated Zack, who always had a girlfriend even though he was Christian and didn’t have sex. He was blond and he had blue eyes, and girls loved him. He didn’t even have a very big dick — it wasn’t small enough that Davy could really make fun of him for it, but it was hardly large, not like Davy’s horse-like slab of meat, which would have reached his knees if Davy were an average height. Zack was just a perfect specimen of man, seemingly constructed to please women — the opposite of Davy, who was also a perfect specimen of man in his own way, a way that turned women off and sent them running… into Zack’s well-toned — but not bulky — arms.
“No way, get down on your knees,” Davy said. He crossed his arms over his chest, accentuating his plump pectoral muscles.
Zack blushed as the other seniors laughed. They played along because Davy was a senior like them, but they all liked Zack. They felt sorry for him. Davy didn’t. Zack sunk to his knees in front of Davy, who wore only a jockstrap — everyone in the room wore only their jockstrap, because they were hazing the freshmen.
Davy’s ball-hairs barely fit in the jockstrap, and they jutted out, making him look like a sasquatch who had been stuffed into some ill-fitting human underwear. He didn’t wear the fashionable, colored jockstrap that some of his teammates wore — including Zack, who had a pink jockstrap on — pink — that’s right, pink — and apparently the girls liked it for some reason; pink had become fashionable and no one told Davy, who had teased Zack for his jockstrap a month ago only for his teammates to tell him that rappers wore pink underwear now. “It’s a thing these days,” they said.
Davy had scowled. He’d been looking for a chance to humiliate Zack since then. He wished he was from an earlier era, he thought, when masculinity was more simple.
Zack wanted to come to the Kappa Kappa Pi party tonight, but it was only for upperclassmen. Zack said he was in love with a girl who would be there. Davy hated him so much. Team tradition dictated that any player, including Davy, could veto a freshman’s party invitation. Even if Zack were cool, Davy might have refused an invite for Zack, as that way the party would have a better ratio of females to males. It made sense to reduce the cock-count.
But Davy knew he wasn’t going to get laid regardless. The girls would squeal at his size and laugh at his jokes and say he was so cool, but then they’d all go upstairs with the handsome players. Davy was fun to tease, but not to fuck.
“I… I promise I won’t flirt with any girl, Davy. I swear. I have a girlfriend.” He sniffled. “Please, c’mon, man.”
Davy shook his head. “No way, bitch. You wanna come to the party? Get ready for tea!”
His teammates laughed and clapped to cover up their anxiety when Davy dropped his jockstrap. His foot-long dick flopped out, and those massive balls dangled. Davy jogged in place a little, making his cock and balls jiggle right in front of Zack’s face.
“Lean your head back and open up-“
“Ew, c’mon… at least take a shower first,” Zack said, his cheeks turning bright red.
Davy blushed too, because his teammates laughed at his naked body. They showered together all the time, of course, it wasn’t abnormal to see each other’s dick. It was unusual, however, for only one of them to be naked at a time though, and anywhere other than the locker room. That didn’t happen a lot.
But Davy decided to lean into it. That was what he had always done when people teased him. He pretended it didn’t bother him, that he was deliberately cultivating it. He hadn’t showered today. He stretched like he was going to work out, jogging in place with a big goofy grin. “Gotta get myself nice and sweaty,” he said as he jogged.
As he moved around and stretched, Davy turned around and bent over, pretending to be stretching his legs and his back. It had the effect of making his big hairy asscheeks spread right in front of Zack’s face.
“Ah, nasty!”
“Stick ya tongue in there, Zack!”
The teammates roared their laughter, applauding and shoving Zack’s face towards Davy’s ass. His thick kinky black hairs were plastered to his flesh. He was so tall that he had to lower his ass quite a bit, kneeling awkwardly, to get his cheeks right in front of Zack’s face.
Zack blushed and looked away. He looked like he was considering leaving — he didn’t need to do this, after all. But his girlfriend wanted to come to this party, and he had promised her an invite.
Blushing intensely, Zack nodded. He closed his eyes. He thought this wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn’t looking. He also didn’t want to admit how big Davy’s cock was. He winced as he felt Davy’s massive body approaching. Zack snuck a peak just in time to see those low-hanging balls drop right into his open mouth.
“Ew, nasty!”
“Teabag him!”
“Drink that ball-sweat, freshman!”
The other seniors laughed and slapped Davy’s asscheeks because that made more sweat trickle down into Zack’s throat. They all winced when they touched him because they were intimidated by his size, and a little grossed out by the sweat dripping from his hairy ass. Zack cringed and wiggled like he was trying to escape. There seemed to be an infinite amount of scrotum flesh filling up his mouth. It coated his tongue with hairy, salty sweat, and it made him gag loudly. He retched. His stomach twisted. Above his face, Davy’s strapping muscles all tensed at once as he wiggled his dick, making it drag over Zack’s nose.
“Ah, shit…” Davy was still soft, of course, but he moaned as though he was about ready to cum. He even gave his dick one long strong to make sure everyone on the team knew how big it was. It was the one aspect of his big body that he could really show off — not to girls, of course, but at least he could ensure his teammates knew he had a bigger dick than any of them.
His cock and balls flopped over Zack’s retching face. Davy took a deep breath. “Lick my balls, punk!” He guffawed, his big barrel voice echoing against the walls.
Then, at last, Davy pulled away. He cackled and danced around the room, his heaviness making the floor creak and the shelves vibrate until an empty beer bottle toppled over. His cock jiggled up and down along with his belly, which shifted like a sac of potatoes dangling in front of his chest.
For some reason, Davy pulling his balls out of Zack’s mouth made the taste worse. A gritty salty texture coated Zack’s tongue. He thought he might never taste anything else again. He gagged furiously, his face bright red.
“Zack’s a bitch now-“
“How’s them balls taste, boy? You wanna taste some more?”
“Zack’s the new team ball-boy!”
Zack blushed. He had always been the sexiest guy in high school, the one all the girls had a crush on. He was more popular than the quarterback. He hadn’t taken well to being a mere freshman and a second-stringer, especially while a big dumb loser like Davy was a star. He wasn’t used to being teased or hazed — he was always on the other side of that equation. Zack’s blood boiled.
“Hey, fuck you, dumbass! You’re a fucking retard, Davy. There’s no reason for you to go to the party cuz no girls will ever mess with you and your hairy ass!” Zack said, his face turning red.
The laughter and jeers stopped. The fun hazing atmosphere of the room died. Davy glared at Zack.
“What’d you say to me, you little punk?!” Davy shouted. His voice was so deep it rattled the windows and made everyone in the house, even the freshmen downstairs, fall quiet. Davy grabbed his horse-dick and waved it in Zack’s direction.
Before either of them could say anything else, however, the quarterback Jimmy (and team captain) stepped in between them. “Zack!” he barked. “Get downstairs! You have to respect the seniors, freshman. That’s a rule. Davy might be an ugly sonofabitch, but he’s still a senior.” He paused. “And you’re not allowed to call anyone retarded, except actual retards — I mean, not anyone, not even them. That’s a rule. You can get kicked out of the whole university-“
“Fine, fuck you! I don’t need your stupid party!” Zack screamed. He stormed out of the room and out of the house, cursing himself — why had he gone through with it if he was just going to stay away from the party anyway? He had only licked Davy’s balls because that was the price of going to the party.
The room was quiet for a moment. Everyone looked at Davy, who blushed. He didn’t want to be naked right now, but he didn’t want to look vulnerable by putting his jockstrap back on. The fact that he was the only one in the room with a lot of chest hair — which had gone well over into his back now, since he stopped shaving his chest and there was no one in his life who would help him shave his back — and the only one who didn’t have a six-pack seemed glaringly obvious right now.
“I do get laid,” Davy said. He didn’t intend to sound defensive, but he winced as the other seniors snickered. They must have been more aware than Davy thought that he didn’t have sex very often. Davy frowned. “Look… Girls do dig me. He don’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Yeah, sure, Davy, we know,” Jimmy said with that charming grin of his. “Zack’s not allowed to be disrespectful like that anyway. He’s a little puke.”
“Yeah, you’re a tough guy, Davy, we know girls aren’t so into that-“
“We should get Davy laid! Hey, remember that fat chick at the Wendy’s? Who’s got her number? She had a nice ass, and she was like six and a half feet tall-“
The door opened, and Bart walked into the Kappa Kappa Pi house. The seniors in their jockstraps all furrowed their brow. None of them had ever seen Bart before. Davy smiled at him.
The others were all shocked that Davy was naked and seemingly unembarrassed about it. Bart smirked and waved his limp-wristed hand at Davy.
“Who’re you?”
“Hey, man, uh, sir, this is… How’d you get in the house? Who are you?” Jimmy was the team captain, and the “responsible” one, so he addressed Bart.
“I teleported in,” Bart said with a giggle. He gently pushed Jimmy out of the way with his limp wrist. He approached Davy. “I’m here to service this amazing slab of manhood. Evidently the girls around here don’t know what to do with him. You’d think college girls would be smarter than that, but I guess they don’t teach classes in manhandling meat. I blame the liberals.” Bart glanced at Jimmy’s crotch as he walked by. “You’ve got a nice dick, Jimmy. But it’s a little small for me.” The other players chuckled as Jimmy blushed. Bart grabbed Davy’s thick meat and stroked it. “This is more like it.”
Davy put his arms on his waist and sniffled. “Yeah, man, y’all don’t even know. Real men get their dick wet, y’know, and-“
The other players erupted in laughter. Someone slapped Davy’s ass. He blushed intensely and closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe he was going to get off with another man, especially in front of his teammates. But Bart had appeared at the perfect moment — no one would remember the freshman being a moron and calling Davy out on being poor with women; they would only remember how the guy said Bart’s dick was too small for him and said that only Davy was horse-cocked enough.
And he wasn’t even going to have to deal with Zack at the party either.
“Holy shit, is he doing it?”
“Davy! Davy! Do the Gravy-Boat, man!”
The Gravy-Boat was a dance that Davy did in the endzone sometimes — he didn’t score often, so it didn’t happen too much. He blushed as Bart dropped to his knees in front of him and nodded. Bart had seen the Gravy-Boat before, but he enjoyed the idea of watching it from up close and personal.
Davy blushed. He had never intended for the “Gravy-Boat” to be a thing. He was just trying to impress a girl when he came up with it, though she had only laughed at him — why was it, he thought, that when a dimpled man dances in the endzone, girls think it’s sexy? When Davy did it, girls thought it was hilarious, not sexy, while those very same hot dudes made jokes about Davy causing an earthquake.
It was barely even a dance. He just leaned forward and wiggled his ass, then leaned back and wiggled his ass, then back and forth a few more times. Since he was naked and Bart was right in front of him, Davy waggled his sweaty cock and balls in front of Bart’s face, then turned around and shook his hairy ass in front of his face. Bart watched studiously as though it was an informative documentary.
“Gravy-Boat! Gravy-Boat!”
The other players laughed more loudly than was really appropriate — they were nervous about the stranger seemingly ready to jack Davy off. A few of them even left the room, not wanting to watch; the remainder told themselves and each other they didn’t want to watch, but didn’t want to seem so squeamish as to leave.
Davy stopped dancing, too embarrassed to continue. His face was like a hairy, stupid-looking cranberry, which made Bart laugh. The room fell silent and awkward, and Bart was about to swallow Davy’s dick in front of all these jocks.
But then George Hill pushed through — he was a wide receiver, and he also had a huge cock like Davy’s. He had his jockstrap down just enough to bare his dick, which was uncut and fleshy. He flopped it between his fingers, running past Bart.
“Dicktap!” he screamed.
He thwacked his dick against Davy’s shaft and his balls, hard enough to make Davy oomph and pull away. Davy cried out, “shit, man, ow!” He said more but the team erupted in laughter and applause, drowning out Davy’s breathless howls of pain. They clapped George on the shoulder as he stepped back.
This was a game that had become popular at GHU over the last couple years, among the athletes, especially on the football team. It was called Dicktap. The “game” was to simply hit someone else’s cock and balls (mainly the balls, since it hurt) with your own cock. It wasn’t really much of a game, but Bart enjoyed watching it as the other players all started trying to get a dicktap on George, who danced away and out of the room. It was traditional to only dicktap the person who had previously dicktapped you (so Bart didn’t know how the tradition had begun in the first place).
“C’m’ere, George, I’ll knock your dick clean off!”
“George’s dick really hurts, that’s not fair!”
Bart took advantage of the confusion to get started. Davy loomed overhead, momentarily distracted by the fading pain in his balls and by the commotion from the other players. Bart took his dick in hand and stroked it. Again Davy didn’t seem to notice, not right away. A lot was going on all at once, and his teammates kept bumping into him as they chased George out of the room.
Then Bart swallowed his dick, and Davy couldn’t help but notice that. He grunted. He didn’t mean to be loud, but that voice like an idling eighteen-wheeler made it so loud that everyone fell silent.
The remaining players (a dozen or so) all turned to face Davy, whose face remained a bright red though he tried to look confident and not nervous. His dick was limp still, but throbbing. Bart could sense the erection bubbling up inside him.
“Shit, he’s really doing it…”
“Davy’s crazy!”
“That’s so nasty!”
Davy grumbled. His mouth creaked open amid an assortment of sarcastic snickers and patronizing chuckles. His cock twitched and jerked in Bart’s mouth. Bart wanted to impress the others, so now that they were paying close attention, he slammed his head all the way down. He deep-throated Davy in one smooth motion.
A spine-tingling moan filled the air. Davy leaned against the wall and gripped it tightly, his fingers turning white. He closed his eyes once more, then thought that made him look weak. He shouldn’t look embarrassed, he decided, he should look like this was no big deal and he did this all the time, like it was the others who were weird for not having ever done it.
“Fuck, that’s nasty! He’s deep-throating Davy!”
“He’s doing it!”
His cock was rock-hard now, and its size couldn’t be ignored. None of the players mentioned how big it was though, because none of them wanted to acknowledge that it was bigger than their own dicks. Even when they played Dicktap, no one ever acknowledged differences in cock-size. It was an unwritten rule of jock life: pretend you’ve never looked at anyone’s cock before.
Precum flowed down Davy’s shaft and coated Bart’s face and tongue. He kept deep-throating, even as his lungs cried out for oxygen and his stomach churned. His nose nestled in Davy’s unkempt pubic bush, while Bart’s soft hands stroked his hairy balls and taint.
“Is he doing the Gravy-Boat again?” The other players giggled. Davy wasn’t trying to do his dance, but he was shaking because his dick felt so good, and he was trying to avoid making a lot of noise — he thought that would lead to more teasing — so it rather looked like he was trying to do the Gravy-Boat without removing his dick from Bart’s mouth. His assflesh trembled and his muscles all flexed at once.
“Goddamn, Davy…”
But Davy’s desire to avoid making too much noise backfired. He snorted and sniffled, which made him sound like a tired horse as his muscles sweated and he began to plow down Bart’s throat. Then he grabbed the back of Bart’s head and rammed his dick in, swaying his hips from side to side as though trying to plow into every inch of Bart’s face.
Bart’s hands flailed. He grabbed Davy’s asscheek with one hand, while his other hand tried to reach Davy’s nipples — Davy was too tall, so Bart just teased the lower edge of his sweaty pecs.
“You ever done this before, Davy? You look like you’s an expert. You gonna stick him in the ass next?”
Davy shook his head. He said no, but all that came out of his mouth was a creaky grunt. He had to focus to say anything articulately. “No, no way, man,” he said, sounding like he was already on the verge of orgasm. “Jackin’ off so much ain’t right, it’s unbiblical.” Davy wasn’t really Christian, or at least not seriously Christian, but it was the only objectively reasonable excuse he could think of. A part of him did want to plow into Bart’s butt, but that seemed too gross and off-putting; he certainly wouldn’t do it in front of his teammates anyway.
His sac slapped against Bart’s chin so violently ballsweat dripped down his body. Bart was good at keeping his mouth open and loose, so Davy could just ram his dick in and out.
“Ew, Davy’s gonna nut!”
“That’s Davy’s O-face, man, looks like a caveman holding in a fart.” The other players snickered and pinched Davy’s hairy ass to tease him.
“Holy shit, he does-“
“I bet he does fart when he cums-“
They all began imitating Davy’s supposed orgasm-sounds. They hooted like a cumming gibbon and slapped their own thighs to make a loud, fleshy rippling noise. They guffawed while Davy blushed, both in arousal and embarrassment.
He howled and panted like a wolf when he finally came. Davy used both of his paw-like hands to hold Bart’s face in place, as Davy ignored his friends teasing and poking him. Cum poured down Bart’s throat.
It was salty and sweet, and it was a huge load, even more than Bart had gotten out of him the last time. The flavor was intense, sunny and grassy; it tasted like a football field, he thought, he could even taste the plastic padding of a uniform and sweat-stained cotton fabric of Davy’s too-small jockstrap.
“Ew, he’s swallowing it!”
“Davy’s cumming!”
“Dicktap!” Someone tried to get a Dicktap on Davy as he came, which prompted laughter even though it didn’t work — Davy’s entire dick was in Bart’s mouth, and his balls were inaccessible. So he just flopped his dick over Bart’s face and the root of Davy’s dick.
Bart was dizzy, about to pass out from lack of oxygen. Davy firmly kept him place until every last drop of cum had escaped from his balls, filling Bart up with so much fluid he felt full. He couldn’t believe Davy had shot so much — it was those massive baseball-sized balls, he thought, pumping him until the cum piled up in his throat and slipped out, coating his chin and plopping onto the floor. He was groggy as Davy finally pulled away and sighed.
“Davy! Davy!”
“Do the Gravy-Boat!”
As the last pangs of his orgasm coursed through him, Davy managed to do a Gravy-Boat. He shook his limpening dick over Bart’s face, then spread his asscheeks and wiped his sweaty crack over Bart’s nose. Davy cackled as his friends slapped his hairy cheeks, then jokingly wiped their hands off on each other.
“Ew, ass-sweat-“
“You gonna smell like a gravy boat, man…”
Bart laid back and sighed, satisfied as a smug kitten. Davy started drinking, still stark-naked — the girls weren’t supposed to come over for a few more hours, so there was no reason to put clothes on yet. That meant Bart still had plenty of time to worship every inch of his raunchy linebacker body.

The Bodybuilding Coach Bottoms

When the tutor Donovan is approached by some football jocks, he thought he’d be servicing their hot, throbbing needs… But it turns out they have another plan! Coach Mike Bagworth has lost a bet, which means the whole team gets to watch as Bagworth endures a twink on top!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here

As he walked into the locker room, a part of Donovan was worried that this was all a trick. He was used to being pranked and teased by the seniors, the jocks and the bullies at Goldendale Hills University, and the three guys who had come to get him were all of those things. They simply said that Coach Bagworth needed him and that Donovan was to come with them.
Coach Bagworth was the head of the athletic department at GHU, and Donovan had jacked him off a couple times. Bagworth was in charge of the whole department, but he actually coached football. Football was the only sport that mattered at GHU. The only sport that mattered to Donovan, on the other hand, was gymnastics — he was here at GHU on a gymnastics scholarship.
The only reason Donovan didn’t believe right away that he was being pranked was that all three were shirtless, covered in sweat from the practice they had just finished. They were three big buff black studs who made Donovan’s knees weak. He was so distracted it wasn’t until he was in the men’s locker room that he began to get nervous. The football players wore shorts that barely concealed their jockstraps, no shirt, their bare chests dappled with sweat — it looked like they had just finished a practice when they came to get Donovan.
“Come on in here,” said one of them, snickering as he showed Donovan to the lockers.
But he hadn’t even known that he was going to the locker room when he followed the three black jocks. His heart started pounding as he realized that’s where they were going, and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he saw the entire football team clustered at one end of the locker room. This was a prank, wasn’t it?
“There he is, you ready, Coach?!”
“He’s fuckin’ tiny! What’s he weigh, like eighty pounds?”
“I could lift him with my cock.”
They all whooted and hollered as though they were excited to see Donovan, who didn’t know any of them. They all sat there in their jockstraps and not much more.
Hair and beefy muscle spilled out everywhere, and the best thing about it was the way they touched each other. Men crowded onto narrow benches, their bare asses spilling out from their jockstraps and touching their neighbors’s sweaty bottoms. A few of them rested their arms around their buddies’s broad shoulders, and as Donovan walked in, that gigantic Samoan linebacker Poahi goosed his buddy’s ass, making everyone around him laugh.
Coach Bagworth was in the back of the locker room, against a wall. He wore the same shorts and shoes, no shirt, as the players, though he wasn’t sweaty like they were. Donovan didn’t really care for football, but Coach Bagworth was famous in his heyday — and he still retained his professional athlete figure. It was slightly concealed by a thin layer of pudge, which was just the right amount as far as Donovan was concerned. He had a few tattoos inked on his chest, dismal gray ones mostly, but there was a brilliantly colored American flag as well, and a large football on his belly.
The players only stopped the hooting when Coach Bagworth lifted one hand up and snarled as though he was going to order them to run laps. Their booming voices and chortling laughter faded away. Donovan’s heart pounded, and his dick stiffened in his pants, from anxiety, from horniness at the sight of so many nearly-naked football jocks, and from arousal at the smell of their untreated musk, overflowing jockstraps exuding their intoxicating scent into the humid air of the locker room.
“Donovan… right? That’s your name? You’re on the gymnastics team.”
“That’s right.” Donovan smiled. Coach Bagworth was pretending to not know Donovan well, even though Donovan had jerked him off — and more — on numerous occasions. Donovan wasn’t surprised. Most men he serviced did the same.
“He got swishy hips and everything!”
“Lookit him, he’s drooling and shit!”
“Well, Donovan… You may know we won an important game last night. A game that I… before the game, I said I ain’t think we would win. Nobody thought we had a chance, they was s’posed to be a better team, so I told the team I ain’t expect much from ’em,” he said. He took off his GHU cap and lowered his head. “For that I’m sorry. I was wrong. I should’ve had faith in my boys.”
They cheered and pumped their fists. Donovan saw that one, a six-packed white redneck in the front row, grabbed at his crotch as though his dick was hard. What was going on here? Donovan thought the air was filled with tension.
“And, uh… I made a bet,” Coach Bagworth said with a chest-rattling sigh. “A bet I gotta pay up on right now.”
“What bet, Coach Bagworth?” Donovan asked. He was trying to butch it up the best he could — he simply didn’t think it was a good idea to be flamboyant here in the locker room.
“Tell ‘im Coach!”
“His lack of faith was disturbing!”
“I bet these motherfuckers that they’d lose,” Coach Bagworth said over the nervous giggling of his players, his voice grim and pained. “And they proved me wrong. What I bet was… my ass.”
“What?”
“I’m gonna give it up. You can stick it me, Donovan, any way you want,” he said. “Right here in front of these fuckers. The only rule is that we never mention this again. It don’t leave this locker room. That’s why they picked you, cuz you got a reputation for being a discrete… person.”
“Take it, Coach!”
“Oh my god, are you for real?” Donovan asked. His eyes opened wide. But no one could hear him over the sudden eruption of masculine laughter and good-natured jeering. Someone pushed him forward, again and again until Donovan stumbled into Coach Bagworth’s chest. Donovan got a faceful of chest hair, meaty pectoral muscles and weary flesh that tasted of cocoa-butter soap.
“Stick him! Stick him! Stick him!”
“Make him like it!”
Coach Bagworth again held one hand up for silence. The football players all dutifully did quiet down, though an underhushing of jeers and cheers filled the locker room. Bagworth looked dourly down at Donovan and rolled his eyes as though considering backing out now. But he didn’t. He just raised his eyebrows as though asking how to get started.
“Uh… Well, do you… uh? I mean… will you… uh, let me… lick… and-“
“You gotta just tell him what to do, man!”
“He’ll do anything you want!”
Donovan blushed as the players all laughed. Donovan took a deep breath. He knew he was going to look like an idiot if he didn’t develop some confidence. He sighed and took off his shirt. He was about to drop his pants, then smiled and told Coach Bagworth to do it.
“Oh damn, shit’s getting real. Drop those pants, Coach!”
“Do it! Do it!”
Coach Bagworth dropped to his knees, sighing as the locker room slowly filled with silence, everyone watching with baited breath. It seemed a lot of players still thought Coach was going to back out, but he didn’t. Coach Bagworth had massive sausage-like fingers and he fumbled with the tiny button of Donovan’s jeans. They were tight, so he had to shimmy them down to Donovan’s ankles.
Everyone burst into laughter again at the sight of Donovan’s bright pink briefs. He wouldn’t have worn them if he knew he’d be baring them in front of football jocks. Donovan was so small and twinkish in comparison to everybody here — likely he weighed a third of anyone else in the locker room. Donovan felt small and weak in comparison, but that wasn’t a bad feeling for him. Donovan preferred to be among massive men with big meaty manhoods, and his own trim, almost feminine, body helped to allure them.
“Honey, you better start licking before you take my drawers off, cuz I don’t think you can handle jumping right into it. My dick is not for beginners,” Donovan said when things had quieted down enough for him to be heard. That caused another uproaring of laughter, and that Samoan Poahi clasped him on the back as Coach Bagworth closed his eyes and kissed Donovan on the bulge of his underwear. Donovan shuddered in anticipation at the feel of the Samoan’s giant jock hands on Donovan’s smooth shoulders.
Coach’s thick lips planted on Donovan’s dick through his pink briefs. That sent a shiver of pleasure up avery’s spine. Coach Bagworth looked away as though he was going to gag, but then he didn’t. He licked the entire length of Donovan’s dick through those briefs and rolled his eyes at the rollicking players in front of him.
“He kissed it!”
“How’s that taste, Coach?”
“Fo’ us it taste like victory. For him, it taste like defeat!”
Donovan moved away and leaned against the wall, forcing Coach Bagworth to turn around. That meant Donovan faced the rest of the team, who were now mostly standing, clustered so close together their bodies were pressed against each other, hands gripping each other, jockstrap-clad cocks dragging against each other’s bare asses. They all crowded in together so they could see their coach’s humiliation.
Donovan cleared his throat. “You know, boys, it’s considered rude to watch without taking your cocks out,” he said. “I wanna see all your meat.” They laughed, nervously this time, but one by one they did take off their jockstraps, their cocks flopping like limp baseball bats, while Coach Bagworth slowly lowered Donovan’s pink briefs. Donovan’s erection popped free. They all hesitated to drop their jockstraps at first because no one wanted to be first — what if they accidentally got hard? — but once someone had done it, no one wanted to look self-conscious either, so they all did it.
“God damn, boy, I was not expectin’ that,” Coach Bagworth said when he saw Donovan’s big dick. Donovan blushed and thwacked his dick across Coach Bagworth’s embarrassed face. Coach frowned and turned around. “You fellahs said you picked him cuz he was discrete. You actually picked him cuz he got a big dick, ain’tcha?. He gonna tear my ass up.”
“Swallow it, Coach! Swallow it deep!”
True to his word, Coach Bagworth opened his mouth and let Donovan’s bare dick plump down his throat. He gagged loudly, and his bristly beard hair scratched against Donovan’s shaved crotch. Donovan sucked in his breath, as bursts of pleasure exploded throughout his petiteness.
“Oh damn, he doin’ it! Coach is swallowin’ dick!”
The players realized that Donovan was aroused by the sight of their naked bodies. Some of them were embarrassed and covered their dicks with their hands but otherwise flexed their biceps and wrapped their hands around each other’s backs, showing off their pecs and sweat-dappled shoulders.
“Slam ‘is face, Donovan! Make him take it like a porn star!”
As the players egged him on, Donovan gradually lost his inhibitions. He wrapped his hands around Coach Bagworth’s fat head and ground his hips until he could get his entire dick down there. The pleasure running up and down his spine was incredible, mind-melting, making it hard for Donovan to focus on the entire football team standing naked before him.
They all were so close that their dicks touched each other. Every few minutes someone angrily demanded someone else quit touching them with their cock, and a fight almost broke out. But they were too glad to see Coach Bagworth humiliated to stop watching and fight. Donovan spied a few dicks twitching and growing half-hard.
Everywhere Donovan looked he saw a naked body, in every shade of brown, pink and tan. He writhed, his knees buckling as his crotch sent waves of pleasure through his twiggy limbs. He tried to pound Coach Bagworth like the team kept demanding, but he was too weak, not to mention too small, so he could do little more than stand there as Coach guzzled his dick deeply.
Precum flowed down Coach Bagworth’s throat, making him gag and sputter over the din of his cheering players. Coach Bagworth snarled around the cock in his gullet. Donovan gasped and trembled at the incredible pleasure wracking his body so powerfully it almost hurt.
“Make him gag, Donovan!”
“Woot-woot! He’s really doin’ it!”
“Never thought he’d go through with it…”
Coach Bagworth was more than a foot taller and at least a hundred and fifty pounds heavier than Donovan, making it awkward for him to reach Donovan’s dick with his mouth. Even being on his knees wouldn’t be enough, he had to stoop as low as he could go. The more he swallowed, the more he shifted until he was nearly laying on his belly, just lifting his head up far enough to reach Donovan’s crotch.
That left his plump ass, beneath his dingy gray shorts, ready for Donovan to slam it in. He could have cum down Coach Bagworth’s throat anytime, but Donovan knew he’d likely never have the chance to pound a football coach like him in the ass ever again and he didn’t want to give that up. He concentrated on backing away from his climax, while his cock throbbed and his hands explored Bagworth’s well-muscled chest and thighs. Donovan wanted to reach down and feel up Coach’s ass, but he was too short to reach, so all he could do was caress the meaty muscle of his back.
“Alright, Coach Bagworth, stand up, turn around and grab your ankles,” Donovan said. The last few words were drowned out by a torrent of cheers from the team, but Coach Bagworth himself was close enough to hear his words. Donovan knew that position wouldn’t really work, he just wanted to make Coach try it.
He hung his head as he stood, stretched his sore legs and bent over to grab his ankles. His gigantic asscheeks parted in front of Donovan’s face as he got in position, but he was so tall that his ass kept rising until it was in perfect position for Donovan to lick it.
“Damn, Coach, you tall as shit. He can’t even reach yo’ ass like that.”
And so that was what Donovan did — he didn’t have any lube, after all, so if he were going to pound Coach Bagworth in the ass, he was going to need to do something to loosen things up. Besides, it ought to slow down Donovan’s throbbing erection, so he didn’t blow his wad too quickly. The team gasped, and even Coach Bagworth snorted like he had never heard of a rimjob. Donovan could feel the snort in the rippling of his ass muscles and the tightening of his sphincter as Donovan’s tongue plunged in.
Coach Bagworth lifted one leg like a dog and his whole body trembled, in a combination of pain, shock and intense pleasure when Donovan’s tongue hit his prostate. Donovan’s face buried itself in Coach’s ass, so he didn’t see his face, but judging from the laughter and comments from the other players, he must have had a funny look in his eyes.
“Lookit him! Can’t tell if he loves it or if he’s terrified!”
“Both, I think.”
“Nasty-ass shit… Crazy!”
Donovan lapped at Coach Bagworth’s sweaty ass, which was choked with coarse black hairs. Donovan suckled all the salty sweat off while producing enough spit to lube him up. The taste was musky, savory, so hot that Donovan wanted to jack himself off — but he forced himself not to touch his dick, so he could last as long as possible. His tongue rammed in and out of Coach Bagworth’s ass like he was trying to get at the center of a lollipop.
“Alright, now you’re going to have to get down lower,” Donovan said. He kissed each of Coach Bagworth’s plump cheeks, then slapped his ass as he lowered it. Coach Bagworth shuddered. Donovan slapped it again, like a coach encouraging his players.
But Donovan focused on getting Coach Bagworth down low enough to get in his ass. Once again, his height was an issue — Donovan had to stand on his toes, even with Coach Bagworth on all fours. He kept his ass low and his head high. Donovan spread Bagworth’s buttcheeks.
“Stick it in ‘im! Stick it in ‘im!”
Donovan’s dick was throbbing hard, nearly ready to cum already as he lined it up with Coach Bagworth’s ass. Then he pushed it slowly in, adding some spit to make sure it slid in easily enough. Coach Bagworth grunted and bit his lip. His head dangled and he lifted that foot again until Donovan made him lower his leg — he was so big that moving one asscheek to raise his leg made it impossible for Donovan to penetrate him.
“Stick ‘im harder, man!”
Donovan was a bottom by habit. He appreciated the physiques of men like Coach Bagworth, and he enjoyed servicing them. He rarely got a chance to top though. It was intimidating to pound it into someone so much larger and stronger than Donovan. It felt wrong. Coach Bagworth was so big Donovan felt like he was going to be swallowed by his massive ass, which retained all of the power from his pro football days, now comfortably padded and able to take every inch of Donovan’s dick.
“Damn, he destroyin’ that ass.”
“I ain’t know li’l dudes could plow like that.”
Donovan beamed with pride. The pleasure rocking his body was so intense Donovan moaned out loud, the sound ringing out and echoing in the linoleum-lined locker room and overpowering even the hooting and hollering of the football team. They clapped, encouraging Donovan to be even louder and pound Bagworth even harder.
Donovan had never felt physically smaller yet emotionally larger, like his primitive mind thought he had overpowered Coach Bagworth. His heart skipped a beat as pre-orgasmic throes of bliss made all his muscles spasm. Coach Bagworth grunted and covered his face from the watching team.
He didn’t know how long he kept pounding at Bagworth’s wide ass. It felt like forever to Donovan, but at the same time, it seemed to be over in a flash. He wished he could have stayed deep in Coach Bagworth’s ass until the end of time.
But his orgasm overwhelmed him soon enough. Donovan’s fingers curled and he gripped Coach Bagworth’s thick back muscles. He held on, mounting him so high that his feet were no longer on the floor. Supported entirely by Coach Bagworth’s athletic body, Donovan used all the power of his hips to slam his cock down.
The awkward positioning and the lack of leverage made the whole thing hotter for Donovan, who grunted and groaned, losing all of his femininity. His body was assaulted by waves of orgasmic energy, making him throw his head back and scream even before the first drops of cum sprayed into Coach Bagworth’s ass.
“Fill him up! Let’s see it drip down, boy! I wanna see that nut in his ass!”
And then it actually happened. His body shot jets of cum, copious gobs of it, more than Donovan had ever shot before. It was a pity he shot it inside Bagworth’s ass, he thought, because it would have been impressive to see it puddled on his back or somewhere like that.
The orgasm was so incredible that Donovan howled like a wolf, and the team joined in, harmonizing with him. They hollered and slapped each other on their backs.
“C’mon, Coach, make a hobby out of it! You did so good with Donovan, why give up now?!”
“That’ll teach you to think yo’ team ain’t gonna win!”
Donovan’s body went weak, and if he weren’t laying on Coach Bagworth’s back, he would have collapsed to the floor. Instead he limply lay atop Bagworth’s spasming back muscles as he moaned into the meat of Bagworth’s shoulders. Donovan clutched his body tightly.
“Damn, he fillin’ you up, Coach!”
“You sure he ain’t pissin’ inside you?”
“I see it dripping, here it comes! Here comes the cum!”
Donovan lay there for as long as he could. He enjoyed the taste of Coach Bagworth’s back-sweat and the feel of his ass clenching around Donovan’s dick as Coach Bagworth struggled to accept all of that cum. Donovan felt his semen dripping out of Coach Bagworth’s thick ass, sticking to the hair that it matted to his skin. Donovan licked Coach Bagworth’s ass until he stopped him.
“Okay, you had your fun,” Coach Bagworth said, his voice booming to be heard over the jeers of the team. He stood up, wincing as pain erupted in his ass and Donovan slid down, his big dick flopping out. Coach Bagworth burned with embarrassment when the team clapped and hooted, again shaking their own dicks in his direction.
The cum flowed out of his ass and dripped onto the floor. Donovan instinctively reached out to grab it, stroking his fingers in Coach’s taint and soaking up all the cum he could get. Coach Bagworth grunted but ignored him as Donovan wiped the cum off all over his giant ass.
“Woo-hoo! You got stuck, Coach!”
“How’s that feel for ya!”
“You ain’t nevuh gonna underestimate us again, huh?!”
Coach Bagworth again used one hand to demand silence. Everyone fell quiet — even getting cornholed in front of them wasn’t enough to ruin his sense of authority — and he opened his mouth to speak, then winced as Donovan’s hand brushed past his tender asshole. Coach Bagworth bent his knees and supported himself with his hands on the bench in front of him. When a few tittering laughs filled the air, he again held his hand up.
“Shut your fucking mouths,” he said with enough authority that they all clammed up immediately. The humid, cummy-aired locker room was so silent Donovan could hear the water running in the pipes — girls must have been showering in the other locker room. “Remember this is it. Once this boy here — sorry, I can’t remembuh yo’ name right now — once he leaves, nobody says nothin’ about this again, or I’m kickin’ you off the team.”
He shook his ass, forcing Donovan’s hand away. He turned his head and glared at Donovan, who for a moment thought he was in trouble. Then he saw the players smiling and clapping silently now that Coach Bagworth wasn’t facing them. They held a fist up in the air in a show of solidarity with Donovan.
Donovan decided to be bold — he stepped forward and kissed Coach Bagworth on the lips. He only stayed there for a second, because he knew Coach would push him away once he had a chance to react, and Donovan wanted to end this on his terms. It was a short, sweet kiss. Donovan wished he could have dragged it out.
Then Donovan pulled away and walked towards the door. He didn’t even bother to put his clothes on as he went. The team cheered and clapped, and this time, Coach Bagworth didn’t stop them.
“Yeah, you go, Donovan!”
“You can stick Coach anytime you want, you got my permission!”
Once he was near the door, Donovan breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized how tense he was until he was away from all those gigantic alpha males. He grabbed his spare clothes from his locker at the other end of the locker room, then got dressed, abandoning the clothes he had come here in back there. He left his clothes both because it made his exit more dramatic to sway his bare twink ass and because it gave him an excuse to come see Coach Bagworth later.
Donovan had a feeling that Coach Bagworth would be willing to reclaim his masculinity by topping Donovan, and Donovan planned on giving him that opportunity tonight. He smiled and whistled a jaunty tune as he walked out of the locker room, already formulating his plan for this evening.

The Fraternity Man

Shane is desperate to get into a hot frat party, and that means serving his pledgemaster, even if he’s got to bend over and take whatever he has to dole out! Can Shane get through his hazing?

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Read the whole thing here!

Shane Gibbons had never been more disappointed than when he found out the party was strictly for members in good standing of Kappa Kappa Pi. He was still only a pledge, which meant he wasn’t going to be allowed in. He and the other pledges would have to spend their Saturday night cleaning the Omega Omicron Tau house — cleaning the house was part of the payment to get the Omega girls to show up at the party. The Omega girls had to come because otherwise, no one else would come either.
It was funny — he had thought fraternity life was silly when he first came to GHU, but now it seemed essential. He joined the frat only because he felt lonely his first few weeks at college. He became paralyzed with fear that he’d never make any friends.
Fraternity. He corrected his own thoughts. As a pledge, if he ever abbreviated it frat out-loud, the punishment would be severe. He wasn’t going to be a frat boy but a fraternity man.
Now he was reliant on the organization to give him a social life. Without the his fraternal brothers, he’d never be invited to any parties. Brenda Fallow was going to be at that party on Saturday, and Shane was sure she liked him. She was always looking at him in the English class they shared. She stared at him, then blushed and looked away when he looked back. They had barely exchanged ten words in the entire time he had known her, but he intended to invite her to the party. If he was there with her, he felt confident he’d get to third base at least.
So he was desperate to be allowed in. It’d be humiliating to show up with Brenda and get turned away at the door of his own fraternity. So when Chad — the pledgemaster for the semester — said that they were considering allowing a few of the pledges in, Shane said he’d do anything.
“Come on, Chad. You don’t understand, this is the most beautiful girl on campus, and she likes me! She really does-“
“She does not, freshie!”
“She does too!” Shane squealed. He didn’t want to sound like a desperate little boy with a crush on a girl. “I mean… She looks at me like…-“
The upperclassmen all laughed, and Shane looked down at his feet. It seemed likely that Chad would refuse to give him an invitation, but Shane couldn’t just give up. He had been dreaming about spending the night with Brenda since the first day of classes, when they had partnered up to read a Phyllis Wheatley poem and make a presentation about it.
“Come on, Chad…” Shane said. He knew he couldn’t whine — Kappa Kappa Pi had special punishments for pledges who whined — so his mind raced as he tried to come up with something to offer in exchange for an invitation. “I’ll do anything.” He blushed as soon as he said it. He had meant he’d do anything like cleaning the house or doing Chad’s laundry, but judging from the sarcastic oohs and aahs of the other upperclassmen, they interpreted it as an offer to do something gross. It was gross, Shane thought, they had dirty minds, that’s what Shane’s mother would have said. She didn’t like what she called toilet humor.
“Anything?” Chad asked with a smirk. He loved playing pranks, especially making pledges dirty. He had cracked raw eggs on Shane’s face, farted on him, and made him lick the sweat out of his armpit. Chad laughed so hard when he made a freshman gag that his face turned red. Once he had nearly cried from laughing so hard because of another freshman’s gagging at the feel of a pubic hair in the back of his throat.
Despite their teasing, Shane did not feel like an outcast. The one benefit to frat life — and it was a big one — was that he always had friends. The hazing and the relentless teasing and the chores and the humiliations of Pledge Week, all of that was just an appetizer designed to whet the pledges’s appetite for brotherhood. That had seemed silly when Shane got started in Kappa Kappa Pi. He thought he’d never feel like a real part of this organization
But somehow Shane had indeed come to feel like he was close to the men in his frat. Even the ones he barely knew like Kyle and Fringe, he felt he knew them so well because they shared the fraternity life. They had gone through the same struggles. They had been hazed the same way back when they were freshmen; they had gotten through it. They had made lifelong friends with their pledgemaster. Shane was sure he would feel the same when he got through all of this struggle.
“Make him jerk you off, Chad!”
When someone said that, they guffawed as though it wasn’t a serious suggestion, but Shane blushed. He could tell from the look in Chad’s eyes that it was a more serious suggestion than the others thought.
Chad wrinkled his nose. “Good idea! Pledge, I’ll give you an invite to the party if you jerk me off,” Chad said, his face turning red as he laughed harder and harder. The other upperclassmen howled like they had never heard anything so funny.
The hazing was optional, so Shane could have backed out. One of his frat brothers was Jules Tremor, a Jehovah’s Witness who refused to participate in any hazing, oath-taking, holiday celebrations or drug/alcohol use — he was just as much a part of the frat as anyone else, and Shane felt like he was a brother. But Jules didn’t get invited to all the parties, and he was the only senior in Kappa Kappa Pi who was a virgin.
Shane did not intend to be the new Jules.
Shane dropped to his knees. “Yes, sir, Pledgemaster-sir.” He thought — and hoped — that if he just took Chad’s dick out and made it look like he was going to do it, Chad would tell him not to. That’s exactly what Chad had done to another pledge last week.
“Is he really gonna do it?!”
“That is some old-school hazing!”
“Get him Chad! Make him do it! Swallow his cum!”
He had to suppress a gag when he touched Chad’s cock to take it out of his pants. It was big and springy, like a fleshy slab of uncooked sausage. It was thick, veiny, warmer than Shane thought it should be. He had known it was big because Chad whipped it out often — in the group showers he frequently made everyone sit through — but Shane had never realized how big it really was. He blushed.
Shane had seen Chad’s cock on numerous occasions because Chad made them all shower together. Shane had always assumed he did that because he wanted everyone to realize he had the biggest cock in the frat, but Chad justified it by saying it increased camaraderie, which Shane had to admit was true. He had felt like an outsider among the seniors until the night they had gotten drunk together, crammed into such a tight space that Shane’s thigh pressed up against Deshonte Willoughby’s, making Shane nervous until he was drunk enough not to care. Then he felt so close to Deshonte it was like they had been friends since childhood.
The fraternity house had three bathrooms, but only two with showers and only one with a large group shower — considering that there were more than twenty people living here, they had to use the group shower for most everything. They could have taken turns and rarely been in the shower at the same time as anyone else, but Chad wouldn’t allow that. “Real men aren’t squeamish about seeing other real men. We can bond by showering together, increasing the ties that bind us, encourage us to celebrate our own masculinity and our brotherhood.” It all seemed like a bunch of nonsense to Shane, an excuse to show off Chad’s massive hog — none of the pledgemasters before Chad required mass naked showering — but no one was willing to tell Chad no on this point.
So Shane had seen Chad’s naked cock on many occasions. But there was a big difference between sneaking occasional nervous glances at it when he couldn’t manage to look away any longer, and getting a good look at it up-close in preparation for putting it in his mouth. But he still hoped Chad wouldn’t make him go through with it.
He looked up at Chad, hoping he’d say not to do it. But Chad just smirked.
“Get to it, pledge,” Chad said. He turned his hat backwards and pantomimed throating Shane’s face down. His limp dick and heavy, low-hanging balls slapped against Shane’s chin and lips. He chuckled.
Shane took a deep breath, sighed and opened his mouth.
“He’s doing it! Shane’s slurping on a cock for an invite!”
“Old-school hazing!”
The taste was not really as bad as Shane had thought it was going to be — it tasted a lot like pussy, he thought — but the texture was even worse. It was limp at first, and it hung in his mouth like a dead fish. It was long and thick and fleshy.
But then when Shane’s tongue touched it, it twitched. It stiffened and perked up. This texture, he thought, was much more pleasant. It was solid, like a flexed muscle. It felt strong, vibrant, confident, and the flavor became more savory and satisfyingly sweet.
He didn’t let on that he felt that way though. The upperclassmen groaned and grunted, expressing a mixture of shock, awe, pity and shame, all at once.
“You wanna jerk me off next? You don’t have to stop there.”
But no matter what they said or how they jeered, Shane didn’t feel ashamed. He was doing this for Brenda, the most beautiful girl on the campus. If he and Brenda fell in love and got married, then this story about how he got invited to the college party at which they first hooked up would be sweet — it’d be something he laughed about, it’d be a classic story that he would clean up for most retellings, but close friends would know what really happened. It would be totally worth it.
When the salty and sour flavor of precum hit his tongue, Shane actually began enjoying himself. His frat brothers laughing at him were unpleasant, but they faded into the background. All he focused on was servicing Chad, his fraternity brother, and becoming one with him. All of those annoying brotherhood-sessions in which they sat in the shower and drank, naked, pretending they weren’t sneaking glances at each other’s cocks, all of those moments paled in comparison to this — Shane had never felt so close to another human being.
Chad had jerked upperclassmen off when he was a freshman. Maybe that was why he always brought it up and tried to come up with reasons to make it happen. He wanted to do it again, but with himself on top this time. Shane had forgotten about that story because Chad shared it one night when they were very drunk — that was one of those drunken-naked-in-the-shower-bull-sessions that everyone but Chad hated. The frat brothers who were left at the end of a party had gotten drunk, and for some reason they started to share secrets. Chad said that his pledgemaster had come to him drunk and demanded he mouth him off in the middle of the night during Pledge Week.
Now here was Shane returning the favor. It really wasn’t that bad, Shane reminded himself, even if he did sputter and choke a little when it plunged into the back of his throat. It felt uncomfortable at first, but his body relaxed and accommodated it.
Now he didn’t even want to stop. He didn’t exactly love it, but there was something satisfying about servicing his frat brother — must get out of the habit of saying “frat brother”; would you call your country a “cunt”? Then don’t call your fraternity a “frat” — and knowing that he provided all that intense pleasure wracking Chad’s body.
At first Chad had barely gotten hard at all, like he was too nervous to really feel good about the blowjob. But the more Shane did it, the more pleasurable it was for Chad, and his dick stiffened like a rod ramming down Shane’s throat. Chad’s face went from a mischievous prankster to a seductive lover, cooing and aahing as he fed his cock deeper and deeper. He looked like he didn’t want to let on how pleasurable this was for him, like it was better for his rep if he pretended he only did it to humiliate Shane.
But Shane knew that wasn’t it. He could feel everything going on in Chad’s mind through the throbbing of his cock in Shane’s mouth. He could sense that Chad loved this more than anything, that he was going to find a way to make it happen again and that he was going to move on — he was going to ram Shane’s ass.
That seemed extreme, but Shane knew he would let it happen. Not only was it worth it if it meant he’d get to spend the party with Brenda Fallow rather than scrubbing toilets at a sorority house, but he hoped it might even feel good.
“Damn, Chad, you are hardcore! You had better invite Shane to every party all year for this.”
But of course, Shane wasn’t going to make it obvious that he looked forward to getting a cock in his ass. He was still sensitive to his fraternity brothers making fun of him.
They were only teasing him because it made them nervous to watch Shane handle a cock. They tittered, peering closely at Chad’s massive, veiny shaft sliding down Shane’s throat. Shane was bigger than most girls and he had a neck to match, giving him plenty of room to swallow all of Chad’s manhood. He didn’t even struggle after some initial difficulties.
The other upperclassmen were nervous, Shane suspected, for two main reasons. First of all, they were worried about looking like they enjoyed watching this. They didn’t want to be aroused or even too interested. Secondly, some of them had likely done the same thing when they were freshmen — just less openly — and more than a few wondered if they could get away with shoving their dick down some freshman’s throat as well. The other pledges had crawled away, no doubt scared that they’d be put in the same position as Shane if they stuck around.
Sweaty balls slapping against his chin and that moist cockshaft sliding down his throat combined for an intense and pleasurable experience for Shane. He craved every drop of precum he tasted, and he loved the look of Chad’s athletic muscles writhing above Shane’s head.
Chad’s unserious laughter had given way to aroused moans, which he tried to suppress. He chuckled a little nervously, like was surprised by his well-lubed cock’s expert penetration of Shane’s throat. Chad took a deep breath.
A loud rattling sigh escaped from Chad’s mouth as he pulled his dick out. It throbbed, pulsated, gleaming with moisture. The smell emanating off it was intensely savory and mouth-watering. The judgmental laughter of the other upperclassmen faded into the background.
The sight of Chad’s bare cock again reminded Shane of all those brotherhood-bonding sessions in the shower. Chad’s cock was wet there too, plastered to the skin of his thigh. Now it was longer, harder, thicker, inviting and oh-so-tasty looking. Shane wanted to swallow it again, but he pretended to be nauseated at the sight of it.
“This is all worth it to get into that party,” Shane repeated both to himself and for the benefit of his fraternity brothers.
“Why, man? Why are you so desperate to go?”
“That girl, remember? You really think some chick is worth it!”
“She’s not just some chick! I’m sure she’ll… I think I love her,” Shane said, blushing when they all oohed and aahed like they were watching a romcom. His face turned beet red. “She’ll put out! I’m sure of it, she virtually said she would! I have to get to that party!” He felt bad about saying that because, if he and Brenda fell in love and got married, he would have to deny ever saying this. It would be totally unromantic to admit he came to the party because he thought Brenda would give up her pussy. Shane gave it no thought before blurting out, “I’m a virgin, okay?!”
The upperclassmen squealed and screamed with laughter. There was punishment in the fraternity for failing to lose your virginity by your senior year — it wasn’t technically allowed, but they didn’t kick you out, they just made you clean the house and teased you and did all kinds of terrible things, unless you were Jules and you could claim you were a virgin for religious reasons.
“Now I’ll consider giving you an invite if you get on all fours and bare your ass,” Chad said with a forced-casual laugh. Shane sighed, though he had known this was coming. He was both dreading it and looking forward to it. The other upperclassmen laughed along with Chad, with their own mixture of horror, curiosity and jealousy.
Shane was so excited he didn’t even consider saying no, even if he was also fearful of it. Just a few hours ago he would have been shocked and humiliated by this, but he wanted it more than anything now. He bent over on his hands and knees. He unzipped his belt and pulled his pants down.
“Bare that ass, freshie! You better work for that invite!”
“I hope this girl is worth it!”
Pain erupted in his ass when that massive senior cock slid into him. He sighed and hung his head low. At first he thought he couldn’t take it — this experience had all the pain he had expected, and none of the pleasure he hoped would come along with it.
But that only lasted a few seconds. Once he got over the initial burst of agony, he felt Chad’s manhood teasing his prostate. It was just the first inch or two of cock, but it felt so good Shane moaned. He couldn’t help but make it a pleasured, blissful moan that oozed desire and arousal.
The upperclassmen all fell silent. They were confused, maybe a little reverent, unsure why Shane acted as though he wanted this. It was, after all, supposed to be hazing, not a reward.
As more and more of that frat boy cock slid into him — excuse me, ‘fraternity man cock’, of course — Shane’s pain diminished more and more. With each thrust of Chad’s meat, every additional inch of fat prickmeat plunging deep into Shane’s ass, the pain was replaced by steadily mounting pleasure.
“Keep your chin high, pledge!” Chad said when he saw that Shane was hanging his head like a tired dog.
Shane lifted his head high. It was difficult to maintain his pride in this sort of situation, but the fact that he could do so despite the snickering of his frat brothers made him feel good about himself. He remembered all those lectures — many of them delivered naked in the group shower with that hoggish meatstick dangling between his muscular thighs — about fraternity pride and brotherhood. He wasn’t supposed to feel afraid or tortured or humiliated. He was among his brothers. They would support him no matter what.
Even if he turned out to love getting it up the ass.
Judging from Chad’s gasping as he finally got the last of his dick inside Shane’s tight ass, Chad was surprised at how good this felt as well. He breathed heavily, and moaned every few seconds as pangs of bliss ran up his spine.
Chad began being ginger about it, refusing to touch Shane’s asscheeks any more than necessary, looking away as though it was too disgusting to watch. But that didn’t last long.
By the time his cock was fully hard and leaking precum again, Chad was fully into it, excited, eager to plow back and forth as hard and as long as he could. He held on to Shane’s pale buttcheeks, gripping them tightly and even slapping the flesh to watch those plump orbs jiggle.
Chad took off his shirt too, to give himself more leeway. He wanted to watch his cock slide in and out of Shane, whose ass loosened to accept it.
The tortuous pain was still there, but it was distant, like a faded memory. Instead Shane was overwhelmed by intense pleasure, rolling waves of orgasmic bliss that were so incredible he didn’t even notice his own cock get hard or his own hand wrap around it.
The upperclassmen were completely silent now. If it weren’t for the grunting and the frenzied rutting of Shane and Chad, the room would be entirely silent. Even the other freshmen pledges had returned and now stood there like equals with the upperclassmen — who normally didn’t allow pledges to stand with fully-inducted brothers — watching as both men moaned in sync with each other.
Neither Chad nor Shane needed to say anything when they both approached orgasm. They were in wordless communication with each other, and Shane could pick up everything Chad thought through the throbbing of his dick inside Shane’s ass.
So he could feel it when Chad’s balls crawled up in their sac, and he could sense the tension in Chad’s muscles. He could feel the jagged breathing where his exhalations condensed on Chad’s neck and shoulders. Meanwhile Chad himself sensed the overwhelming prostate orgasm that wracked Shane so hard it was almost painful. His muscles tightened and his hole clenched tight around Chad’s cock.
“Oh, nasty, is he gonna bust!”
“He’s gonna shoot inside him?!” That was one of the upperclassmen, who got down on his knees to watch as Chad orgasmed.
Cum sprayed into Shane’s ass, a big wad of it flooding his body in undulating torrents of bliss. It was hot and thick, and it coated his insides. Shane moaned. He had never felt anything so delightful. He orgasmed at the same time, pleasure emanating out from his prostate in waves. He spurted cum onto his hand and onto the floor.
He didn’t know how long it lasted. He was both acutely aware of everything around him — the awkward breathing of his fraternity brothers, the far-off beeping of a cell-phone whose battery was dying, the hum of the air-conditioner — while at the same time unable to pay attention to anything but the mind-numbing pleasure that flowed through his veins. It could have lasted for hours, he wouldn’t have known, and it could have lasted for years, he would have been fine with that.
Except, he thought as Chad’s cock finally pulled out of his ass, if he stayed like that for years, Brenda Fallow would never see him and fall in love with him.
Once blissful relief flooded him when Chad’s cock plopped out, Shane knew he didn’t want to do this again. It was fun to do once, though he would never admit how much he enjoyed it. But he didn’t want to feel a cock inside him again.
“Okay, brother,” Chad said with an exhausted sigh. “That was pretty good.” He chuckled softly to himself. Shane could tell that Chad was shocked by how good it felt. He was downplaying it for the benefit of his fraternity brothers. From the upperclassmen’s nervous laughter, it sounded like they knew this wasn’t some hazing torture. It was obvious that both Shane and Chad had enjoyed themselves.
But no one wanted to admit that.
Instead Shane cleared his throat. “So I can come to the party? Right, Chad?” He called him Chad instead of Pledgemaster or sir, but Chad either didn’t notice or didn’t care anymore. The old rules were out the window.
“Of course,” Chad said. “If the girl you like is going to be there, then who am I to stand in the way of true love?”
They all laughed, glad that this had happened but even more glad that it was over. Shane stood up, no longer eager to be a frat boy — he was now a fraternity man.

The Bodybuilding Coach

Donovan tutors football jocks, but he didn’t know their hunky coach Bagworth was willing to give him a taste too! Can Donovan satisfy his new favorite college football coach?

Read the whole thing here!

Read the whole thing here!

“I’m tellin’ you, man, it just don’t make no sense to me. My brain don’t work like this,” said Gravyboat — David Mitchell, but everyone called him ‘Gravyboat’ — running his fingers through his hair. He was a heavyset linebacker, just a junior in college but already balding, thick as a barrel of meat, with a big face, all the parts of which were too big for each other . He scowled and sighed.
“You’re doing a lot better. Remember when we started you couldn’t do any of these problems. Now you did half without any help from me, and you got most of the rest with just a little assistance,” Donovan said. He was a sophomore now and a tutor for jocks like Gravyboat, which had seemed more exciting in the abstract though. In reality, he’d spent most of his tutoring time sitting in quiet libraries and study rooms. “You’ve come a long way. You’ve improved so much-“
“I hate word problems!”
“You said before you didn’t like math because it’s not useful, but word problems show you how you can use it.”
“I don’t need to know which train will arrive when! That ain’t somethin’ I gotta do! I can look at the schedule, man,” He shook his head. “I can’t learn this shit.”
“You already are, Gravyboat,” Donovan said. He sighed. He was frustrated, but he managed to hide it from Gravyboat, who was easily discouraged about his intellect. Donovan patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s call it for today. You really are doing good, Gravyboat. Just come back on Wednesday.”
“Coach Bagworth said I don’t gotta do it on Wednesday because I have practice.”
“You have practice every day,” Donovan said as he leaned back in his desk chair. The study room was small and cramped, and it had nothing in it but a whiteboard, a trash can and four small desks. It was attached to the gym, so Donovan could hear the basketball team practicing in the gymnasium next door.
“Yeah, but on Wednesday he said-“
“I ain’t say nothin’ of the sort!” Coach Bagworth appeared in the doorway. “Don’t you spread no lies, Gravyboat!” He wagged his finger and scowled at Gravyboat, who blushed and looked down at his feet. Donovan felt tiny sharing a room with these two — Gravyboat was a college linebacker who was hefty even for college linebackers, while Coach Bagworth was a former quarterback, tight end and bodybuilder. They were gigantic, and Donovan was dwarfed by them.
But it was Coach Bagworth who really attracted his eye. He was a big burly man who was so macho it hurt, and he had a handsome face, with his bodybuilderish body looking too big to fit his mug. Coach Bagworth didn’t have a perfect body, but Donovan preferred men with that sort of physique over the Hollywood-handsome six-packed types. Bagworth had a little heft, a little thickness, and a whole lot of swagger. He grabbed Gravyboat by the back of the neck.
“Coach, get off me!” Gravyboat twisted away from his coach.
“What’d you say? You tryin’-a get outta tutoring? Huh? If you fail ya damn math class, you gonna get cut from the damn team, you damn fool, and don’t think I’ll do a damn thing to save ya damn fat ass!” Bagworth barked at him. “You wastin’ time, Gravyboat!”
“Coach, come on!” Gravyboat pushed away from him. Bagworth shoved him against the wall.
Donovan backed up to the window to stay away from them. Was a real fight about to break out? It seemed like it. Both men were giants — Gravyboat was six-foot, eleven-inches tall, while Coach Bagworth was a bit shorter but better muscled. You could tell that Bagworth’s padding concealed a barrel-shaped vat of muscle, while Gravyboat was just heavy all around.
There was something alluring about Coach Bagworth. Donovan enjoyed the sight of his body bulging from the ill-fitting tee shirt and pants, which were somehow both too big and too small for him.
The argument ended without turning into a fight. Gravyboat sulked out of the room after agreeing to return for more tutoring on Wednesday. Donovan blushed and nodded his understanding, his eyes drawn to Gravyboat’s meaty ass shaking when he walked.
Coach Bagworth had a little salt in his pepper hair, which Donovan wanted to run his fingers through. His body was big and burly, thick all over, the kind of body Donovan could and gladly would worship for hours. But there had to be a rule against that. GHU had a rule against anything worth doing, Donovan thought.
When Gravyboat was gone, Coach Bagworth looked at Donovan, his deep eyes taking him in as though he never noticed him before. He smiled crooked, awkwardly. “Thanks a bunch for all ya help… Donovan.”
“Oh, you’re welcome…” Donovan blushed coyly, batting his eyes in Coach Bagworth’s direction. He wondered if he could get anywhere with him.
GHU might have rules against anything fun, but nobody followed them. Bagworth did not seem like a stickler for the rules.
“I lost four players last year to academic ineligibility,” Coach Bagworth said, his eyes narrowing into furrows, which accentuated the cragginess of his face. “I wanna give you somethin’ as a thank you, since we just about to start the playoffs and we only gots a good chance on account of you bein’ so helpful. Davie Raython passed his pre-cal test.”
“That’s awesome, I’m glad to hear it,” Donovan said. He was surprised. Raython Lake was an idiot. He must have cheated, Donovan thought but didn’t say.
“So, uh… I was thinkin’, as, uh… like a thanks, I could give you tickets to tonight’s game. Front row, fifty-yard line. You’ll be right in the action,” Coach Bagworth said. He grunted like he was unused to speaking nicely to people.
That was true. Not only did Coach Bagworth speak mostly to his athletes — whom he was never polite to — he was usually only nice to women and children, and Donovan was neither. Coach Bagworth had been a bully when he was young, felt bad about it now and always overcorrected by being nice. Besides that, he had an instinct to protect women and weak men.
“That’s very sweet,” Donovan said. “But honestly, I’m not sure I’d enjoy that. I’m not really a sports fan.”
“Oh. I thought you volunteered for this cuz you was into it.”
“Nope. I had my own motives,” Donovan said. “I enjoy sports players more than I enjoy sports.” He licked his lips and came closer to Coach Bagworth. “I was kinda hoping that maybe you could thank me… in person.”
“Okay. Thanks.” He cleared his throat and said, more solemnly, “Thank you.”
“No, uh… not like that,” Donovan said. He walked slowly, seductively around Coach Bagworth’s towering body. He touched the small of his back, and Coach Bagworth quaked. Donovan reached up to his shoulders. He gave a massage the best he could with Coach Bagworth standing there, unmoving, unbending, and much too tall for Donovan to easily reach.
Coach Bagworth grunted. His body tensed up. His muscles were rock-hard, and they stayed that way.
“I would like it if you just sat down right there and let me service you.” Donovan kissed the small of his back through his sweaty tee shirt. The funkiness of his body odor assaulted Donovan’s senses, and a shiver of desire ran up his spine.
“Service…?” Bagworth asked as though he didn’t know what Donovan was suggesting. The way his cock was twitching in his pants made it clear he did understand and that he was eager for it to happen.
But he didn’t say so.
“I’ll lick you all over, I’ll swallow your dick all the way down,” Donovan said. “To the root.”He lifted up that grimy tee shirt and kissed the meaty flesh of Coach Bagworth’s back. He had a strong, well-muscled back, albeit slightly padded. His muscles flexed beneath Donovan’s touch, and his pecs rippled.
“Uh… Oh…” Coach Bagworth plopped onto the desk. It was an ordinary student’s desk, small for a college and especially small for Coach Bagworth. His ass barely fit, and he had to sit sideways, legs spilling out into the little walkway between his desk and the one next to it. He leaned against the side-arm of the desk.
Though he tried to look relaxed, he was all tense. Coach Bagworth closed his eyes.
When he was a young man, he worked on a farm in the summers. Some of the farmhands there cornholed each other — or to be more precise, they made lots of jokes about cornholing each other — but never went through with it — while only ever actually cornholing one of the farm’s workers, Carlos. Carlos didn’t work the fields, he was an accountant, and he was flamboyant and he wore women’s clothes and he had beautiful long hair and he spoke like a woman.
Coach Bagworth wished he had gone through with it then. Carlos had wanted him bad, but Bagworth always said no. It seemed like such a big deal at the time.
Now he regretted it. He had been so horny and frustrated back then — at the time, women rarely put out, and Coach Bagworth had remained a virgin until he was nineteen. He could have felt better anytime, if only he had gotten off with Carlos. He could have spared himself a lot of frustration.
So a part of him really wanted to do it with Donovan now. But he didn’t want to say it.
Back in the day, Coach Bagworth had had a six-pack to die for. When he got out of the Army, he had a six-pack without even trying, and that was before there was even a word for it. While some women were open to his advances, Coach Bagworth had long ago resigned himself to be unappealing to most women — not ugly by any means, but too old to be young and virile, not clean-cut enough to be a handsome older gentleman, he was too thick and heavy for most women, but not tautly-muscled enough for those who liked muscles, his charisma seemed to diminish every day of his life, and he hadn’t sweet-talked a woman in years. He seemed to have forgotten how in his haste to focus on commanding the players under his aegis.
“You, uh… what’re you doin’? You ain’t gotta rub my shoulders.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to,” Donovan said. He kissed the back of Coach Bagworth’s neck, where his flesh had curled up into little rows. Donovan loved muscular men whose necks did that. “You’re really handsome.”
“You just sayin’ that.”
“No, I’m not! I swear!”
“Shit… I sure wish females would see it that way.”
“I bet I can make you forget about women,” Donovan said. “Arms up, let’s go.” He lifted Coach Bagworth’s tee shirt and spoke with such firmness that Bagworth did it right away. His broad chest rippled in the chilled air of the tutoring room.
His nipples turned hard too, even before Donovan had reached out to tweak them. When he did, he smiled, and his cock throbbed in his pants. Donovan kept his crotch far enough away that Bagworth wouldn’t feel his erection but close enough that Donovan could feel the body heat emanating from Coach Bagworth’s firm torso. A grunt came out of his mouth. Coach Bagworth obviously liked nippleplay, and it made his whole body twitch. Donovan let his tongue trace a line up and down Coach Bagworth’s back.
Next door, the basketball team erupted in shouts and whistle-blows. There had been a fight, or an argument over a foul, something like that was going on. Donovan’s heart raced because he was fearful of being caught — if basketball practice ended up early, those guys would fill the halls and possibly see in here. He’d be fired from his tutoring gig for sure, and Coach Bagworth likely would be as well.
“I think you have a perfect body…” Donovan moved to the front of Coach Bagworth’s desk, and he sucked some of the stale sweat that clung to his chest. It was salty and warm, and it made Donovan’s dick tent his pants. He had to fight the urge to jack off right now.
“You don’t gotta say that.”
“What, it’s true!” Donovan said with a blush. “You probably think you need a six-pack, right? I confess that has its allure too… But for me, I like my men a little meaty and finely aged.” He kissed the furry part of Coach Bagworth’s bare belly.
Bagworth furrowed his brow. He still didn’t entirely believe this. He had hoped to say thanks for helping, but now he was about to get his nut off — that didn’t seem like a thank you. It seemed like something else he would have to be thankful for. Bagworth wasn’t used to anyone appreciating his body for more than its utility.
So he squirmed a little uncomfortably as Donovan pulled his pants down. Coach Bagworth had a fine, girthy cock that was veiny and warm. It twitched as soon as Donovan touched it — from anxiety, not arousal, yet. It was just slightly firm, soaked in sweat. His whole crotch was moistly humid, and the fragrant smell of his groin filled the air when Bagworth’s pants were down.
“Are you okay…?” Donovan asked because Coach Bagworth looked scared.
That was just because he was shocked at what he was allowing to happen. He’d never done anything like this. Back as a young farmhand, refusing to mess with that man had been what made him different from the others. They all messed around, he waited for the woman who would later become his now ex-wife. He was a god-fearing Christian man then and still technically was even if he had stopped living by that code in a lot of ways.
So now he couldn’t stop thinking about that, about the orgasms he had abstained from as a youth. He was letting Donovan go to town all over him, and he liked it. All those other farmbucks who had teased him back then would think it was hilarious that he did it now.
His dick popped into Donovan’s mouth. It was just the tip at first, as Donovan gauged how anxious he was about it. Coach Bagworth shifted his weight and grumbled, but he didn’t say anything. He just covered his face with one meaty forearm and leaned back in his desk-chair.
“Hmmmmm…” Donovan moaned around the cock in his throat. He could tell that sound was exciting Coach Bagworth because it made his whole body twitch and his pecs bounce, so he kept making it. He made as much noise as he could, spitting up on that shaft and then swallowing the mess he had made. The taste of his cock was musty and salty, and it made Donovan crave more.
“Ah, goddamn…” Coach Bagworth shifted around in his seat. It was uncomfortably small for his giant ass, and he struggled to remain still as his dick rocketed to erection. He was still nervous, but now those feelings were subsumed by an intense desire to get his rocks off. “Shit… It’s been a long time since I got off like this…”
Donovan knew that. Most men said something similar when Donovan got on their dicks. That’s because he was better at throating than any woman. Donovan’s throat was nice and long, and he was eager to use every inch of it. He knew exactly how to bring a man to orgasm right away — not that that was what he normally did.
He liked to draw this out as long as he could. He liked to tease his men, make them work for it.
Once Bagworth was hard and throbbing and leaking salty precum onto Donovan’s tongue, Donovan slowed down. He kept going, but he teased Bagworth with his tongue. He licked the shaft and slurped the sweat off his balls. He slathered Bagworth’s manhood in spit and went as low as he could, until he had Bagworth’s balls on his face so he could lick under there, teasing his sensitive taint.
That made Coach Bagworth shake and moan, his deep voice ringing out loud and making Donovan’s whole body crave him. Donovan was deep under his balls, slurping down all the sweat there. He loved this position because it meant Bagworth’s cock was right in front of his face and Donovan could worship it, while Bagworth’s balls throbbed in his nose and precum flowed onto Donovan’s fingers, Bagworth’s thighs quaking as he struggled to hold them aloft.
Then Donovan pulled away and dropped his pants, baring his pale ass, which Coach Bagworth kneaded with one of his thick-callused hands. His touch was rough enough to hurt but soft enough to feel good, and Donovan moaned out loud. Coach Bagworth moaned again, and his heavy legs stomped onto the floor. His dick jutted up angrily, precum flowing down the shaft. Donovan hurried to sit on his lap.
“Oh god, you’re not gonna hurt me too bad, are you?” Donovan asked winsomely, trying to make his voice sound as feminine as possible.
“Nah, I’d never hurt you, baby…” Bagworth blushed — he hadn’t mean that to say it in such a warm, caring way, like he was telling a girlfriend he’d never hurt her. He couldn’t believe he had called a man baby.
But he had only said it out of habit. As a big, macho man, Coach Bagworth had long ago learned he needed to be extra soft and nice to women if they were going to stick with him. So he made kind cooing noises and whispered sweet nothings as Donovan sat on his dick and aimed it into his ass.
It was just the tip at first. Donovan bit his lip. Coach Bagworth had a thick body and a thick dick to go with it. It wasn’t even all that long — though it was plenty long — it was just thicker than Donovan had seen in a long time, and its girth was more impressive than its length. He faced the front of the tutoring room and reached behind himself to guide Coach Bagworth’s cock. Donovan slid himself back.
“Damn.” He tensed up and struggled as a jolt of pain hit him.
“You okay, sweetie-?” Coach Bagworth cut himself off. Then he spoke more gruffly. “You alright, man?”
“I’m fine, just gimme a second…” Donovan groaned through gritted teeth. He loosened his ass and slid a little deeper.
Ah… There it was… A surge of pleasure ran up Donovan’s spine, and he shivered. The pain diminished into a dull, distant roar that he easily ignored. He slid down deeper, until he could feel Coach Bagworth’s unkempt pubic bush rubbing against his ass.
When Bagworth’s manhood hit Donovan’s prostate, he moaned and squirmed. For a moment, it looked like he was in pain. Coach Bagworth rushed into action, seeking to pull him off.
“No, wait, it’s-…” Donovan moaned so loud it made him blush. Coach Bagworth had stood up, and he held Donovan in place. Now that he didn’t know what to do and couldn’t tell if Donovan was in pain or not, Coach Bagworth just held him up.
Donovan was entirely off the floor, leaning against Coach Bagworth’s towering chest, rubbing his face against his muscles, while both of Bagworth’s hands held him aloft. He squirmed in his touch.
Coach Bagworth was so focused on his own uncertainty about what was happening that he didn’t even realize how good this felt for him. No woman had ever let him fuck her in the ass all the way down deep.
He pounded in and out with Donovan in his arms. He’d seen this position in porno, but didn’t think anyone would ever do it. He could control Donovan’s ascent and descent on his dick utterly, his angle, his timing, his depth of penetration. It felt better than it ever had with a woman, even — in a purely physical sense — his bitch of an ex-wife.
As his orgasm hit him, Coach Bagworth tried not to moan too loud. He was so big that he had a deep voice, which carried. He didn’t want to be heard by the basketball team next door.
“Shit… Aw, yeah…”
But it was hard to be quiet with the most potent orgasm he’d experienced in years coursing through his veins. Coach Bagworth grunted right into Donovan’s ear, and his hands dug into Donovan’s soft, smooth flesh.
Donovan shot his own load at the same time. He was cradled in Coach Bagworth’s arms, so he could use both hands to stroke himself off, spraying his wad onto the floor. He shot a big, creamy load that plopped into a puddle there on the floor of the tutoring room.
“Goddamn!” Coach Bagworth hadn’t expected it to feel this good. Worried he would drop Donovan, Coach Bagworth brought him to the ground and bent him over as he was cumming. He mounted Donovan from behind, his dick still all the way in there, throbbing and spewing his creamy load.
It seeped into Donovan’s flesh, gob after gob of hot juices flowing into him. Donovan felt it trickling into his body. The sensations wracked his body were so intense he couldn’t even cry out or moan anymore. All he could do was lay there stiffly, feeling Coach Bagworth’s hefty body writhe above him, his hot breath condensing on Donovan’s cheek.
At last, he was done. “Sorry, I crushed ya there,” Coach Bagworth said as he pulled out. His goopy dick rested between Donovan’s tender asscheeks. Bagworth kissed him on the back of the next, making Donovan sigh as endorphins ran through his bloodstream.
“Hmmmmm…. You don’t have to apologize, you’re beautiful,” Donovan said.
Coach Bagworth blushed. No one had ever called him beautiful before, not even when he was young and had a six-pack. He pulled away from Donovan. He took a deep breath and was about to say something else when a loud shout could be heard from the gymnasium next door. That was followed by a whistle blow.
Then there was a series of shouts, grunts and banging sounds. The whistle blew over and over, then got cut off in mid-blow. “Hey! Hey! Hey!”
“They’s fightin’ again,” Bagworth said. He shook his head. He couldn’t go over there naked, of course, so he raced to put his clothes on. When he heard more shouting, now sounding like people were concerned that someone was hurt, he ran for the door with nothing but his boxers on. His dick flopped, not even totally soft, in his drawers, which were soon moist with all the juices that clung to his crotch.
Donovan quickly put his own clothes on before sneaking to the double-doors leading into the gymnasium. A fight had definitely broken out among the basketball players. It had ended, however, because of Coach Bagworth, not because he had yelled for them to stop — though that was certainly part of it — but because they were shocked to see him nearly naked, and with a moist pair of boxers being the only clothes he wore. It looked like he had pissed himself, and that was what the players later told everyone had happened.
“You little halfwits had better shape up! Quit snickerin’, ain’t you evuh see a real man before?! If ya team was playin’ ya heart out, I could forgive a little grab-ass in the gym, but you motherfuckers ain’t been playin’ worth a half a damn! You got some kinda explanation, huh? Punks! Why do you got that stupid sneer on your dumb faces?! You been carryin’ on like hooligans again? Huh?!”
The gym was silent, and Donovan giggled as quietly as he could. Bagworth’s muscles tensed, all ruddy and sweaty — the players assumed that was because he was furious, but Donovan knew it was post-orgasmic excitement. He wished he could go in there and lick Coach Bagworth’s whole body as he scolded his players.
But he wouldn’t do that, even if he could get away with it. Donovan had another tutoring gig to go to.

Reacharound From a Soccer Jock

Simon and soccer player Octavio share a dorm room, but when Octavio gets dumped and has a stiffy that won’t go down, Simon is eager to help out! Can he accept this Uruguayan exchange student’s exotic machismo and his powerful manhood?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

“Don’t worry, he won’t wake up,” Octavio’s voice filtered into Simon’s mind as he slept.
But that wasn’t quite enough to wake him up yet. Simon lingered in between sleep and wakefulness, as the conversation beneath him grew steadily louder and louder. Octavio’s deep voice echoed in the dorm room they shared.
Simon had come to GHU just three weeks ago, and he already disliked his dormmate. It was tough because, while Octavio was a prick, he was also a handsome soccer star. Simon loved his square jaw, broad shoulders and deep, dark eyes, his unbridled machismo, his bulging muscles that didn’t fit in the too-small soccer shorts he wore to bed. He was rough and brusque and seemed much older than his age. His jaw was broad, his hair short like a soldier, his chest perpetually shirtless.
His jersey and those musty shorts lay crumpled on the floor. Simon sat up as he heard the argument in the bed beneath him grow more heated. Octavio had brought his girlfriend over to the dorm. It was awkward, to have those two giggling and flirting, probably touching — maybe fucking — or at least, you know… touching each other — in the same room as Simon, while Simon wasn’t involved at all. Not a double date, not a friend of a friend, not a party. Simon had no connection to what was happening in his room.
Octavio’s frustrated voice muttered, muffled by the bed separating them. It sounded pleading. Was he asking her for something? Simon wondered if his breathing sounded like he was asleep. How do asleep people breathe? He exhaled slowly. Octavio and his girlfriend probably couldn’t hear though, they were talking, in increasingly animated voices. Octavio sounded frustrated.
“I don’t care, Octavio, don’t be a jerk! Why can’t we wait?!” That was Mandy, Octavio’s girlfriend. She was kind of a bitch, but she was beautiful — big tits, long legs, a round ass, a hefty head of mouse-brown hair. Mandy and Octavio had hooked up two weeks ago, but it already felt like forever. They argued constantly. She set up tasks for Octavio to do a lot, she seemed to think she was his social manager. She wanted Octavio to confront various people about wrongs done, to switch classes and majors, to say various things to various people in specific tones of voice, to buy her things even though she was the one from a wealthy family, while Octavio had to borrow money from her to buy the crap she insisted on. She’d barely looked at Simon. Women like her didn’t notice men like him existed.
“I been waiting!” he said with a groan. Octavio backed away from the dorm bed beneath Simon. She still lay there. Octavio must have been undressing, and maybe she did too? Simon heard a flurry of activity underneath him, which might have been her putting clothes on. Octavio’s face was ruddy and tense
He wore only a clean white jockstrap. The bulge of his dick would have been visible if it weren’t so dark in here, Simon had seen that on several occasions. When it was really hot, Octavio walked around in his jockstrap, either uncaring or unaware of how much his bare ass got Simon’s attention, especially when it was cradled by the straps of his jock.
Hoping to avoid any awkward situations, Simon pretended not to wake up. He couldn’t help but sneak peeks at Octavio’s nearly-naked soccer-toned body, however. Octavio was a soccer phenom back in his native Uruguay — he claimed to have been offered a position as a player for a professional club, but turned it down to go to school in America, here in the middle of nowhere. Simon wasn’t entirely sure he believed Octavio about the professional team offer, but it was plausible. He was the best soccer player on the GHU team, or so everybody said. Soccer fans seemed to think Simon should be overjoyed to be sharing a room with the Octavio Juárez.
“You’re being a real asshole right now. I said we could come up here and make out. I’m not…” her voice trailed off to a whisper, “having sex in front of your roommate.”
“He’s a wuss, and he’s uno nadie. He don’t matter, chica. Only you matter…” he said with a sigh. “I want you. I need you. Now shut up or he’s gonna wake-“
“Don’t you tell me to shut up! I told you about that, I hate that! You fucking asshole, Octavio! I knew this was going to happen. Didn’t I-?” She jumped to her feet.
“Oh, shut your stupid bitch mouth for a minute and let me talk!”
“What did you call me?!” Mandy put her hands on her hips, exchanged dark-eyed stares in the unlit dorm room with Octavio, whose jockstrapped body rippled and flexed like he was using all his muscles just to stand there. Her tits nearly overflowed from her bra, and she carried her blouse in hand. She put the blouse on and clumsily buttoned it as she strode to the door, then stood in the threshold and screamed at Octavio. “You are a real prick, Octavio, you know that? You’re a worthless piece of shit!” Then she slammed the door shut.
Simon sat up, as there was no point in pretending he slept through that. He looked at Octavio, who paced across the darkened dorm room. Light from the streetlamps outside and from the computers and charging cell phones kept the room illuminated enough to see his flat stomach and hairy chest, his nut-nose skin and his grizzled square jaw. Simon felt inadequate — he was small and skinny, and he seemed young in comparison even though he was actually three weeks older than Octavio. How did someone just barely eighteen look like he was pushing thirty? How did he have such muscle and body hair? Simon cursed his luck. Most of the guys in the drama department had a sixth floor dorm. Simon wished he was with them. He wasn’t a drama major — Dad would never allow that — but he hung out with theater people, and it sounded like they had such fun.
They didn’t have handsome machos like Octavio though. Simon licked his lips. He got to shower with Octavio sometimes, and he always did enjoy the camaraderie and the horseplay and the fat jiggling cock. He didn’t think Octavio felt reciprocally though — Simon enjoyed those things when Octavio did them, but Octavio wouldn’t enjoy them if Simon did them, which he didn’t. So to Octavio, those showers were probably boring and dumb, and he probably preferred to shower with his fellow soccer stars.
“Sorry ’bout that!” he muttered, his tone still angry as though this was Simon’s fault. He kept pacing.
“Oh, no worries,” Simon said. “It’s okay. I, uh… I’m sorry-“
But he wasn’t listening. He interrupted Simon with an expressive flourish of his hands. “That fucking bitch promised me she’d put out tonight!”
“Well, she might have-“
“I ain’t bein’ a prick, she was teasing me about it all night! All night, she was sayin’, you just wait till we get back to your dorm!”
“Yeah, Octavio-“
“And now she fuckin’ blueballs me! That goddamn perra! ¡Es la perra más grande del mundo!” he said. He put his hands on his hips and glared at Simon. “Why are you always lookin’ at me in my jockstrap, huh?” His pubic hair peeked out from the edge of the overstuffed jockstrap. It looked like his balls were about to fall out of the pouch.
Simon blushed. He didn’t answer. He just bit his lip. He hadn’t realized how obvious he’d been. But even now, he had trouble looking away from the overstuffed bulge of Octavio’s crotch.
Octavio came closer to the bunk beds. Simon was on the upper bunk, and Octavio was a little too short to look him right in the eye. He sneered at Simon.
“You can swallow my nut, Simon, but if you ever tell anyone, I will kick your ass!” he said. “¡Te voy a arrancar la polla!”
“She was right, you are a jerk!”
But Octavio didn’t register the words right away. He dropped his jockstrap, revealing a half-hard dick angrily throbbing, the veins in its shaft visibly pulsating even in the dim light of the dorm room. He was obviously very horny, Simon thought, which made Simon horny as well. He would greatly enjoy stroking, tasting and rubbing every inch of that awe-striking rod of man-meat.
“You are to say no? You do not want to do chack me off?”
“No! Well… I don’t have to. You shouldn’t take people for granted-“
“But you want to?”
Simon clamped his mouth shut. Saying no wouldn’t sound believable, he thought, so he simply said nothing.
Octavio sighed and flared his nostrils. He paced again, gave his dick a touch, then let go and glared at Simon. Then through gritted teeth, he said, “Will you please get me off? I know you want to…” His voice trailed off like he had wanted to add another insult but didn’t. He clucked his tongue against his teeth.
Simon slid off the edge of the bed, dropping to the floor, and Octavio scoffed like he was annoyed it had taken this long. Heart pounding, Simon moved one hand to grab Octavio’s dick, but Octavio gently pushed him down to his knees.
“C’mon… man… Put your mouf on it…” he said, again struggling to avoid insulting Simon. Simon was on his knees now, so close to Octavio he could smell the funk of his crotch and the floral bouquet of his girlfriend’s perfume, which clung to his skin. In the darkness, Simon could barely make out the silhouette of his cock, but the small portion he saw through the dimness was half-hard, throbbing and veiny, and the sight of it made Simon’s mouth water. Overhead, Octavio’s baritone boomed. “You’re my little pasivo now. You want it, I know it. You are having been looked at it many times. In the shower. You want it. You want me.”
He pushed his dick into Simon’s mouth. It tasted spicy and fresh, and a little like clean cotton from his jockstrap. The flavor reminded Simon of Latin food, the grass of the soccer pitch and the musty sweat scent that Simon caught a whiff of each time Octavio came back from practice exhausted. There was a certain sunniness to his flesh, like Simon could taste all the hours he had spent shirtlessly practicing in the Uruguayan sun.
His throat loosened as Octavio pushed his cock inexorably, but not violently, down. He grunted and moaned in half-articulated Spanish as he went, and his balls slapped against Simon’s chin. Simon’s hands fluttered at first, unsure if Octavio would allow him to touch his body.
He groaned as he fed his dick down Simon’s throat. He held onto Simon by the ear, grinding his dick as he pushed it ever deeper. Simon gripped his plump, muscular asscheeks and held on tight. Octavio’s ass was shockingly hairy for such a young man, the hairs were fine and soft, and his cheeks were firm yet juicy, jiggling beneath Simon’s fingertips.
There was a knock at the door. Simon gasped as Octavio pulled out. Octavio roared in frustration, then he seemed to consider it could be Mandy back again. He ran to the door and looked through the peephole.
“Octavio? Simon? Are you guys alright in there?”
It was Auden, the RA. He was an annoying Young-Republican taste of paste, a thick-thighed bespectacled business major who claimed to tolerate no tomfoolery but actually had such little authority he had no ability to prevent it. Nobody in the dorm liked him. He was mainly concerned with demonstrating his respect for diversity, enforcing rules was a second-order priority.
“Yeah, we’re fine,” Octavio said through the shut door.
“Everything’s cool, Auden,” Simon said, his voice weak because he was desperate to get back on Octavio’s cock.
“It’s just… There was a lot of shouting just now. Are you sure everything’s okay? I can set up a conflict circle for tomorrow.” His voice was wavery like a weak string. “We should talk through-“
“Yes, it is okay now! We just have had a little disagreement,” Octavio said through flared nostrils. His dick pulsated in the darkness as it demanded more attention. Octavio opened the door all the way, boldly showing off his huge Hispanic prick, which was hard and dripping with precum and spit.
That made Simon suck in his breath. American men didn’t just flash their dicks in well-lit public areas like, apparently, Uruguayan men did.
The hallway outside the dorm room was quiet and dark aside from the emergency lighting that illuminated Auden. His portly body blocked the door way. “Uh… Oh…” Auden blushed. His fat cheeks jiggled, even when he wasn’t stumbling over any words. He stood there in the doorway, staring at Octavio’s cock. He was as mesmerized by it as Simon was, it seemed. Auden stumbled over his words. “Is… uh… your girlfriend still here?”
“I ain’t gotta tell you shit, esé,” Octavio said.
Auden backed up a few steps. “Okay, okay. I have great respect for the, uh… Uruguayan, uh… traditions, and uh… So, that’s — I’ll get that conflict circle set up-“
“No!” Simon cried out from the dorm room. He hadn’t wanted to get involved in this conversation. But Octavio seemed like he wasn’t going to argue about the conflict circle — Octavio had a coach and practice to use as an excuse, Simon had nothing and would have to talk to Auden about the conflict circle if he didn’t nip that it in the bud right now. “There’s no conflict, Auden. It’s fine. We don’t need a conflict circle!”
“Okay, it’s just, uh, reconciliation, and we need to solve-“
“I am closing the door now. It is a Uruguayan tradition,” said Octavio. He slammed the door in Auden’s face.
Outside the doorway, Auden’s voice could still be heard. “Uh, yeah, okay then… Just keep it down, Octavio.” He paused. “And Simon.”
Octavio’s hardon had almost diminished. But he muttered to himself, stroking it back to erection as he returned to Simon and slapped him over the face with his cock. Simon opened his mouth, and Octavio pushed his dick back down Simon’s throat, still muttering in Spanish about Auden. His dick was now as hard as it had been before the interruption, and he slammed it right down Simon’s throat.
“Swallow it, pasivo, yeah…” Octavio said, and he seemed to be going out of his way to be even louder just to prove he could, to prove that Auden meant nothing to him. He even situated himself towards the doorway as though Auden would be aware that Octavio’s anger was aimed at him.
Soon precum dripped down Simon’s throat again. It was salty and sweet, and it made Simon moaned with desire around the cockmeat in his throat. Octavio’s thick fingers rubbed Simon’s face and neck as he worked his dick all the way down Simon’s spasming gullet.
Then, without warning, Octavio pulled out. He pushed Simon onto his belly on the bed, and rammed his pinkie finger into his ass. He screwed up his nose as though he didn’t want to do it, even as he continued fingering Simon right in the ass. Pressure, pain, bliss and discomfort all hit Simon at the same time.
“Oh, hell… Octavio…” Simon’s voice broke. He threw his head back and moaned. He was on Octavio’s bed now, and he smelled both Mandy’s perfume and Octavio’s manly funk, his sweat, his socks and feet, the pillow he slept on every night, his unwashed sheets. Mandy’s perfume faded to the back of Simon’s mind.
All that mattered right now was Octavio’s youthful aroma and that fat cock, which Simon reached for even as Octavio moved both him and Simon into position. Into position for what? Simon didn’t know, but he was eager to find out.
“I want to stick it in you, americano,” he said breathlessly as he mounted Simon from behind. He didn’t put his dick in yet, just slid it hotly between Simon’s cheeks, and it pulsated there on Simon’s asscrack, as though it was massaging his sensitive hole. It sent waves of sensation through Simon’s body. He spoke right into Simon’s ear. “C’mon, you be my pasivo?”
“What does that mean?” Simon asked, his voice wavering and soft like Mandy’s had been (before she got salty).
“It means I get to stick my dick in ya culo when my girl won’t put out. I’ll be real gentle, promise…” he whispered, like he was embarrassed about it. “You will want it.”
“Oh, well… I guess, I…” Simon said. His heart pounded.
He had no sooner closed his mouth when Octavio pushed his dick in. A tight pressure erupted in Simon’s ass, and he clenched. Octavio had a tube of lube though, and he squeezed some out. Was Octavio planning on talking his girl into accepting anal sex tonight? That seemed hard to believe, but he was just cocky enough to try it.
Or maybe his dick was so big he needed lube for vaginal sex. Simon was a virgin and had no idea if that was normal or not.
Pangs of pleasure erupted in Simon’s sensitive ass, and he gripped the bunk bed tightly. Simon bit his lip to suppress a moan, not wanting Auden to interfere again, even as exquisite feelings ricocheted around in Simon’s body. It felt so good Simon’s whole body tensed and wrenched, and he slammed his head on the pillow underneath.
As Octavio worked his dick in deeper and deeper he moaned into Simon’s ear. He even kissed him on the cheek, then pulled away as though he hadn’t realized what he was doing. As he kept going, however, drilling his hard cock in deeper and deeper, his awkward kissing moved from Simon’s cheek to his lips. He even plunged his tongue into Simon’s mouth.
“I am a machote, you know what that means?” Octavio said when he pulled away from Simon’s lips. He wrapped his arms around Simon’s body as though holding him in place. He growled. “You want me to slam you like I should? An hombre should make his pasivo hurt, y’know. Mi papi always say a pasivo should be crying, that way he knows he is no real man.”
“Yes, oh god yes, Octavio,” Simon said, gasping for air as he was squeezed by Octavio’s muscles. Octavio’s dick, perfectly still, throbbed in Simon’s ass. He didn’t understand and wasn’t listening to Octavio’s words.
“Now take it, puta,” he said. He drove his dick in and out so hard and so quick that Simon gasped, not even able to concentrate enough to scream.
Then Octavio rolled him and Simon over onto their sides. He kept Simon’s chest in a tight hold, and he wrapped his feet around Simon’s ankles to hold him in position. Simon was wedged between Octavio’s lithe soccer-toned chest and the dorm room wall. He wondered if their neighbors would be able to hear. It seemed hard to believe there were two people sleeping maybe five feet from this spot and they didn’t know what incredible things were happening here.
He rammed his dick in and out, pushing the entire length of it, then pulling it almost all the way out, so just the tip remained, just enough to keep Simon’s attention focused on the pressure and pleasure in his ass. He moaned and bit his lip to avoid being too loud.
“Mi papi also teach me another rule,” he said, his voice suddenly low and soft. He kissed Simon on the cheek. “He say it should hurt, but it should also feel good. An hombre should give a reacharound.” His accent was growing thicker now, the more passionate he had become. “If he did his submission like a good pasivo should…”
His hand crept gingerly around Simon’s body, then wrapped around his cockshaft. Octavio moaned as though it was disgusting to him, but he gave it a few strokes all the same. That made a potent tenderness erupt in Simon’s cock, which spewed precum like water from a hose.
Soon Octavio had a good rhythm going. He used one arm to hold Simon into position, while his other hand jacked Simon off and his dick pounded in and out of Simon’s ass. He snorted like a bull as he humped, and Simon was totally immobilized, melting into Octavio’s powerful muscles, which squeezed and rippled and rubbed against the smoothness of Simon’s back.
“I’m going to fill you up. Don’t spill, that’s disrespectful to an hombre,” Octavio said. He sniffled as he drenched kisses on Simon’s back. “Okay, gringo? You promise you will not spill?”
“I promise…” Simon said, groaning as his own orgasm approached.
Octavio hit his climax first. He paused with his dick balls-deep in Simon’s ass, then gasped. Hot cum spread within Simon, who moaned loudly as it spread to every corner of his insides.
As he nutted within Simon, Octavio stopped stroking him off. Pleasure pounded through Simon’s veins. Then he squirmed, desperate to get himself off. His movement made Octavio’s dick twitch, and Octavio’s whole body writhed atop Simon.
And then Octavio resumed stroking. His limpening dick remained in Simon’s ass, even as his muscles all tightened and he groaned loudly.
It was only a minute or two later that Simon’s own orgasm overwhelmed him. He bit the pillow to avoid screaming, then rolled his head back and buried his face in Octavio’s hairy armpits. He grunted and groaned into Octavio’s body as cum sprayed over his chest and belly.
He didn’t know how long he lay there in Octavio’s arms. He would have gladly slept in exactly that position, but after what felt like forever, Octavio moved. He sopped up all the cum that had coated Octavio’s hand and Simon’s chest. Octavio gathered all of it up in one hand, his snorting disgust making it sound like he was being forced to do so, even though Simon hadn’t even asked him to.
Then Octavio held up his cum-dripping hand. He showed it to Simon, then very slowly pushed each finger into Simon’s mouth.
“Yeah, eat that nut, slut… You gettin’ nasty…”
Simon had always loved the taste of cum, but he’d only ever tasted his own. He also enjoyed sucking on Octavio’s fingers, which tasted of leather and grass, like what he imagined sucking on a soccer ball was like. Octavio moaned too, as though Simon’s sucking on his fingers caused him intense pleasure.
Then he finally pulled his limp cock out. He kissed Simon on the lips again and wrinkled his nose at the salty taste of cum. That didn’t stop him from pushing his tongue into Simon’s mouth and licking up all the semen that stuck to the inside of his mouth.
“Are we gonna do this again?” Simon asked.
He grunted in a negative way but paused before answering. “Probably,” he said. “But only at night. Don’t try to touch me during the day, and don’t tell no one about this. I’ll kick your fucking ass to pieces, puta.”
“Okay,” Simon said. He crawled out of the bed but Octavio stopped him. He dragged him back to where he was, ensconced in Octavio’s muscular limbs.
“Don’t go,” he said. “I wanna sleep with someone.”
Simon blushed, shocked that Octavio would do this. His heart pounded, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sleep. He wanted to lay here and lick those caramel biceps all night, but he knew Octavio would kick him out if he squirmed. So he lay still as Octavio drifted off to sleep.
“You better get out when the sun comes up, pasivo,” was the last thing Octavio said. “I don’t wanna see you in my bed in the light.”
“Okay,” Simon said. “Mi hombre. I’ll get up early.” He cuddled up closer to Octavio’s muscular chest, which exuded solidity and warmth. When he was sure Octavio was asleep, Simon arranged their bodies so that Octavio’s hot dick throbbed in Simon’s sscrack and his powerful arms wrapped around Simon’s body. In that position, Simon drifted into the most comfortable sleep of his life.

The Professor

Avery accidentally catches his hunky professor Studman in the act of taking advantage of a woman, and Avery is eager to show discretion… in exchange for a chance to swing on Professor Studman’s big throbbing meat!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery was trying to nab one of the college’s janitors. But he was handsome enough, and charming enough, to get loads of females hanging off his every word, even as a janitor.
That was disappointing. If Avery could ever spend some time alone with him without any women around, he was sure he’d get to swing on his meat. The janitor really did have a remarkable physique.
Avery forgot all about him, however, when he showed up to the first day of his creative writing course. He’d had the impression the teacher was a woman. He saw the name on the course schedule, of course: Studman. But he thought that was too on-the-nose to be a man’s name.
But as it turned out, Professor Studman was a handsome hipster with brilliant eyes and a foppish smile. Avery was one of the few min in his class because women thronged to him. They liked his dimples and his hair, and his body — tall and athletic but not muscular. He was also the coach for the girls’s field hockey team. He had a gorgeous head of straight black hair that went nearly to his shoulder, and he had a perpetual five o’clock shadow and deep foreboding eyes.
“You know, when I was navigating the Zambezi with my guide Labotako-” He pronounced that name as though he fluently spoke whatever language it came from, “I learned that, in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, they don’t take attendance in schools. Children have to pay for their education, and therefore they always attend. Labotako said their kids never play hooky. Labotako slapped his son every time he complained about going to school. So I’m not going to take attendance in this class either.”
The girls all oohed and aahed, gazing into his eyes. Avery thought this was silly. Professor Studman was hnadsome, but he wasn’t worth this reaction. These classmates would surely not have been impressed if a tubby slob said he beat his daughter when she skipped school, but they swooned over Professor Studman’s five o’clock shadow and abusive river-guide.
But Avery decided to just get into it. He was here to learn creative writing — his last year at GHU he had been told he was short one English credit — and, it turned out, daydream about making out with Professor Studman. This wouldn’t be the first time a handsome man blinded a bunch of women to his obvious douchebaggery. Avery thought of himself as immune, simply because he didn’t care about Studman being douchey. Women needed to justify finding a man attractive and well-formed. Avery simply accepted that this douchebag was a joy to look at.
Professor Studman wore a plain white tee shirt that showed off his forearms, which were well-muscled and taut, with a plain tribal tattoo sneaking down from his bicep. There was a blazer on the chair — he had worn a jacket over a tee shirt to class today, Avery thought, what a pretentious asshat.
Yet oh god he was handsome… Avery could feel the waves of desire from the women all around him. No wonder this class was so popular. The other two men in the class, sitting a few rows away from Avery, looked about ready to strangle Professor Studman.
“As the great Ursula Leguin said, art is an attempt to speak that which can not be said in mere words. In this class, we will learn the words that can express the inexpressible, the ineffable wonderness of our lives. Creative writing is a way to construct a window into reality itself,” he said. He smiled, showing off deep dimples. Some of the girls audibly swooned. “I met Ursula Leguin in a bar in Melbourne. She was there with some bikers — or bikies as they say in Australia. We did shots of whiskey until she took me to an Aboriginal farm where I learned to play the didgeridoo. Have you ever heard the didgeridoo?”
He went on, talking about how wonderful Aboriginal culture was. Nobody, as far as Avery could tell, paid much attention. The girls just smiled and nodded, and Avery had to admit he did the same — Professor Studman was just so damn charming.
The assignment after the first class was to write a description of your home without using any sight words — no color, no shape, no patterns, just sounds, textures and smells. Avery had to admit it was a good exercise for a creative writing class.
How many of the women in this class would have an affair with Professor Studman before the semester was out? Avery would have gambled on at least twelve. He was that kind of professor.
They were first assigned to write an actual story three weeks into class. Avery did a lot of writing anyway, so he thought it’d be easy. He ended up spending most of his free time for an entire week getting it done. It was a little tale about a parking lot that had a large volume of LSD spilled on it during a concert, resulting in it gaining sentience. There were even some anti-Trump messages embedded within, which Avery knew was sure to get him attention from Professor Studman.
But he ignored the story. Studman just wrote A+ on the paper and added a note on the end that said creative concept, well done! Avery was a little disappointed. He was hoping for more feedback than that.
Was there any market for short stories? The two girls Avery shared it with thought it was excellent as well. He wondered if it was sell-able. Did Playboy still publish literary shorts?
He came to Professor Studman’s office one Monday morning to see if he had any advice. His hand hovered over the door before knocking because he was unsure if he would be in the office. Avery had lost the syllabus with his office hours on it, and that info wasn’t available on the class’s official webpage because Professor Studman said that he had refused to work on a webpage ever since doing shrooms with Prince Kuni Asaakira of Japan, when they both decided that the Internet was a “soul trap that would sap its users of their intellect, their attention and their wellbeing”.
There was a loud cracking slap-sound emanating from the office and then a grunt of pain.
“You asshole! She’s such an ugly bitch anyway! How could you be with her? You know she likes jocks!?!”
The door ripped open, nearly knocking Avery over. A woman walked out — she was Jess Weatherspoon, one of Avery’s classmates, a beautiful blonde with narrow hips, frazzled hair and messed-up makeup. She glanced at Avery but didn’t register his presence. She just stalked out towards the main door.
“Hi, uh… Professor Studman?” Avery said as he came in the doorway.
“Oh come on in, Avery,” he said.
Avery was blinded by desire. Professor Studman was changing his tee shirt, another one of those plain white shirts he wore all the time. His silver-dappled chest hair entranced Avery, who couldn’t stop picturing himself sucking on the scruff of Professor Studman’s neck.
“You should know that she was upset because I refused to give her an extension on our latest assignment,” Professor Studman said. He carefully folded the tee shirt he had taken off. Avery noticed that there was lipstick on it — the same color smeared over Jess’s lips when she walked out — and that it was a Gucci shirt. How much had Professor Studman paid for a completely white tee shirt? That was now ruined?
“Oh? She looked more upset than that.”
“She’s very sensitive. Jess doesn’t understand a lot of things. She’s young and foolish,” he said. Then he was quick to add, “but she’s very smart. She will grow wise with time.”
“Uh-huh,” Avery said. “So you haven’t been… messing around with her?”
Professor Studman frowned. “That’s a rather inappropriate question. I don’t wish to discuss my private arrangements.”
“I see.”
A long paused grew between them. Studman looked Avery in the eye and raised his eyebrows. Avery didn’t say anything. Studman cleared his throat, and then he shattered the silence. “I was hoping I could rely on your discretion.” He stood but only for a second before he painfully winced and sat down again. Avery stared at his crotch for the brief moment it was visible, and Avery was sure he had a huge hard-on in his khakis.
Obviously, Jess had blue-balled him.
“Well, I’m very discrete by nature,” Avery said.
“Yes… You know, among the Maori of New Zealand, there are these people called whackawahine, and I-“
“I’m not that interested in the whackawahine,” Avery said. “I’m sure they’re marvelous… but I’m much more interested in you.”
“Ah, I, uh…”
“Perhaps you would be willing to treat me like a nubile young coed,” Avery said. He stood up and came closer to the desk. He licked his lips.
“I… I find the word coed, when used as a noun to refer to a female, offensive,” he said. He gulped. “It is patronizing and dismissive of female accomplishments, and it implies that women’s ability to keep up with male students is a-“
“You don’t need to impress me, Professor Studman. I already think you’re handsome,” Avery said.
“Oh…” He shrugged and grunted. “I see. I…” He blushed and bit his lip.
Professor Studman ran his fingers through his salt-peppered black hair. He glanced towards the door to his office. Avery locked it for him.
“I would be glad to, uh, let you — for your discretion — I, uh…” he said. He straightened his tie.
“So you’d be willing to let me… do things, in exchange for that discretion?”
Studman closed his eyes and sighed. “Yes, then. I mean… I don’t want to do… y’know… There are certain things I won’t do-“
“Don’t worry, I’m a bottom. I won’t try to make you take it in the ass or anything like that-“
Professor Studman sighed again, this time louder, relieved. He rolled his eyes. “Ah, okay, good. You don’t need to be crass. It’s not about gender, it’s not about genitals, it’s about feelings, and reconnecting with the primal part of your soul-“
“Professor Studman?”
“Yes?”
“Shut up and stand so I can swallow your dick,” Avery said. “Your pretentious preening is not hot. You don’t need to impress me.”
He frowned and stood. “I am not pretentious. I simply value my experiences and the knowledge I have gained as a lifetime explorer. That’s what I call it, by the way, have I said that?”
He had said it numerous times in class. He saw himself as a “lifetime explorer”, like that was what he identified as; instead of “American college professor” or “writer and traveler”, he introduced himself as a “lifetime explorer”. He had spent a long time explaining why and what that meant, but Avery had been gazing into his eyes at the time and imagining cuddling with him in a ski lodge. Now he explained it again, and this time Avery could more easily ignore him because he got to slide to his knees in front of Professor Studman’s body.
He grabbed his dick through those pristine khakis — which were also name-brand, it seemed, though Avery didn’t recognize the Italian brand on the label when he pulled them down to Professor Studman’s ankles. He smelled strongly of cologne, something fancy with an odd melange of scents.
“Hmmm… That cologne is hot,” Avery said. He pulled down his silk print underwear too, revealing a hefty tan cock and trimmed pubic hair. That made Avery giggle. He was both excited by how big it was and a little annoyed — just because it would have been karmic justice for Professor Studman to have a tiny dick. No wonder he was so confident, Avery thought.
“It’s only available in Khabarovsk, in Russia,” Professor Studman said. “I went there last spring to see the romashka bloom — that’s chamomile, by the way. They use the blossoms to make this cologne. It’s a reputed aphrodisiac blessed by a Siberian shaman.”
“Hmm-hmm…” Avery kissed the tip of his dick, and Professor Studman grunted. Avery snuck his tongue out, sliding it left and right over the tip of his thick cock. He didn’t lick it just yet, he was still teasing Professor Studman, whose face turned ruddy.
“If you’ve never seen the romashka blooming in Russia, I suggest you go. It’s exhilarating-” His voice broke as his dick twitched, and he blushed. He began speaking more quickly, almost frantically fast. “They have vast meadows teeming with romashka, and the entire field is the purest white dotted with the yellow suns of their stamens. They have long said such fields are the tears of God looking down upon the evil man does to man.” His dick throbbed mightily, growing hard as Avery teased it with his tongue. Professor Studman’s eyes opened wide. “Uh… It makes me feel… I mean, seeing those daisies — they’re a member of the daisy family — it reminds me… the feelings do remind me, I mean… of you… I mean the feelings now remind me then of… those fields and, uh-” He groaned loudly and stopped talking.
“You don’t need to sweet-talk me,” Avery said. “I like dick. I don’t need ornate speeches about Russian flowers to jerk you off.”
“No, I, uh… I…”
“You can just say jerk me off, Avery.”
“No.”
Avery smiled. “Okay, well, you can keep seducing the air with your sweet nothings, if you like. I’m just going to swallow your dick some more.”
“I am, uh… I once studied love-making with the same Tantric teacher who taught Sting. I had the chance to meet Sting once but I turned it down. I don’t think celebrities are that interesting. I don’t click on celebrity news on Facebook.” He paused, then blurted out, “I don’t use Facebook! I don’t, uh-” He bit his lip as a shiver of pleasure ran up his spine.
Avery giggled. Professor Studman had been pretty slow to get fully hard even though he had been hard just moments ago, with Jess. Avery wasn’t worried he’d fail to get an erection, he was just slow and nervous. Professor Studman was probably unused to performing without a woman worshiping every word that came out of his lips.
For the first time, Avery wondered if all this stuff was nonsense. When did he find the time and the funds to travel so much? Who went to Russia to look at flowers? He had assumed Studman was exaggerating some, but seeing him with his guard down made Avery wonder if it was all made-up.
It couldn’t all be fictional. He did come across as well-traveled. But Avery had trouble believing all this. Still, it didn’t much matter to him — lots of attractive guys were bullshitters. It was cute, Avery thought. Usually it had more to do with bullshitting about athletic accomplishments and bedding beautiful women, but this wasn’t so far off.
In any case, once Studman was hard, Avery was ready to get stuck by that beautiful slab of veiny manhood. He thwacked himself across the face with Professor Studman’s cock, giggling at the sight of his nervous face grunting each time.
“Have you ever been with a man before?”
“Uh… in India, I was… no.” Studman said. “No, I never have.” He sucked on his lip. Avery suspected he was about to tell a lie that would sound impressive, but he couldn’t focus enough to come up with one, so he had told the truth.
Avery bent over and grabbed the surface of Studman’s desk. He lowered his head and jutted his ass up to meet Professor Studman’s cock. He rammed into his crotch first, just rubbing his asscrack of his moistened dickshaft as it throbbed and leaked precum onto his smooth flesh.
“Hmmm, pound me… Live life to the fullest, Professor Studman! This is the chance to explore your lifetime!” Avery giggled. “Go’n, stick it in.”
He had to crane his head to see Professor Studman’s tense face. It was obvious he had hoped Avery would actually guide his dick in, so he wouldn’t have to do it. He closed his eyes, gripped his cock and then let go. He paused.
“Do you not wanna do it?” Avery asked. “Cuz if you’re too inhibited and inexperienced, I can understand that.”
“No! I… I don’t have hangups,” Professor Studman said. “Of course. You know the Malays say that-“
“Unless there’s a handsome Malay with a hardon here, ready to stick it in me, I don’t much care, Professor Studman,” Avery said.
He gritted his teeth and did so, just to prove that he could. He sighed with relief when his dick slid in, then he tensed up all over again. A shudder of pleasure ran through him.
“Ah, uh… Yes, ah…”
It was just the tip. Avery had to reach behind himself to guide Studman’s cock the rest of the way in, grimacing as he focused on relaxing his ass. There was a little pain, but Avery had come to expect that — Studman’s dick was big enough to hurt, but also big enough to give him the prostate orgasm of a lifetime.
“You can pound me hard, Professor Studman,” Avery said through gasps of pleasure. “You don’t have to be gentle with me, I’m no college freshman hiding from my daddy…”
“I don’t mess with underage girls. I check their ID,” he said.
“Like a true gentleman would.” Avery giggled. “Has the queen given you a knighthood yet?”
For the first time since Avery had met him, Professor Studman chuckled like he genuinely thought that was funny. “Only British subjects are eligible for a knighthood,” he said. He gripped Avery’s asscheeks, grimacing and sucking on his teeth as he did. His cock slid in the rest of the way, and he held his breath, watching it throb in Avery’s ass.
At last, Studman began pounding in earnest. Avery could just grip the desk and enjoy the show. His prostate rang out with every thrust of Studman’s cock into him, over and over, its thick shaft stimulating every inch of Avery’s insides.
He was really very good once he got into it. Avery could tell that he had relaxed, that he could forget for at least a few seconds that he wasn’t with a beautiful woman. Avery moaned in as feminine a voice as he could, while jolts of pleasure shot up his spine.
“Hey… Professor Studman? Did you read my story?” Avery asked. He had completely forgotten that that was why he came here to begin with.
Studman stopped moving. “I skimmed it. It was good, I could evaluate it without scrutinizing every word-“
“Because I’m not a hot chick, you saw no reason to really read it?”
He didn’t answer. He just resumed gyrating. He chuckled dryly. He placed one hand on Avery’s shoulders and lightly caressed the back of his neck. He leaned over and sucked on Avery’s left earlobe.
That made Avery shudder and shiver. It tickled a little, and it ratcheted up the orgasmic pleasure gathering deep within his body. Avery moaned. “Oh god… Girls love it when you do that, right?”
“Don’t even try to pretend you don’t love it too,” he said.
“I do… I still want to know — do you think I could sell it? The story I mean.”
Professor Studman laughed. “Yeah, if you go back to the fifties when people paid for short stories,” he said. “Assuming your audience is limited to present-day people: No.”
“Oh. Okay, I guess that’s kinda what I thought-” Avery’s voice broke as another wave of pleasure crashed over him. He lifted one leg and gasped.
The movement knocked a few things off Professor Studman’s desk, but he didn’t complain. He grunted too, his cultured demeanor vanishing as he neared his orgasm. He was normally so controlled that his frenzied pounding and the sweat dappling his shoulders seemed more exciting than they should be, like watching a man turn into a werewolf. Avery smiled as his most potent orgasm in recent memory filled his mind with intense pleasure.
He had to admit Studman was good. That was another thing Avery was kind of surprised by — he rather thought Studman would remain clumsy and reserved even with a raging hardon. But with Avery at least, when he finally neared his climax, Professor Studman plowed into him with wild abandon.
At last he was done. “Aw… yeah, shit, yeah…” His pretension was gone as his whole body quaked. Cum flew into Avery’s ass and coated his insides.
He shot great creamy gobs of it, and it filled Avery up more and more with each passing second. His balls slapped against Avery’s ass as he kept gyrating too. Much of his cum spilled out and into the crack of Avery’s ass.
“Ah… goddamn,” Avery said. He threw his head back. His own orgasm felt so good it kind of hurt.
Then, finally, it was over, and Avery lowered his head to the surface of the desk. He stared, eyes open but unfocused, at the form in front of his face while Professor Studman drained the last few drops of his cum into him.
Eventually he was done, and Studman sighed.
He felt tremendous relief and a second rush of bliss in his veins when his dick finally plopped out of Avery’s ass. Avery sighed too, falling limp onto the desk.
That was when Avery noticed the form he had laid his head on. It was a passport application form.
It took Avery a few moments to process that and what it meant. A passport was valid for ten years. If he needed to apply — not renew, for that was a different form — then that meant he hadn’t left the country (at least not legally) in a decade or more. He hadn’t been to Khabarovsk (wherever that was) last spring because he hadn’t had a passport.
“What’s this?” Avery held the form up. It was blank, so Avery couldn’t technically be sure it was for Professor Studman — perhaps he was filling out an application for his mother, for example — but his reaction made it clear that he didn’t want anyone to see it.
He snatched the form out of Avery’s hand, dick still dangling moistly between his legs. His khakis were still around his ankles too, so when he moved, he stumbled and fell over the desk.
Avery looked down at him and scoffed. He goosed Studman’s plump asscheeks. “You don’t have a passport.”
“No, I… It’s just a paperwork error. The government, y’know… Trump’s fault, most likely,” he said.
“Hmm-hmm, yeah, that seems likely,” Avery said. He wiped his own ass off, casually, using tissues from the box on Studman’s desk. Avery took a few steps away, still holding the box, while Professor Studman stood up. With his khakis still around his ankles, Studman couldn’t easily reach Avery or the box of tissues, and it was obvious he wouldn’t pull his pants up until he cleaned his dick off — those pants and the underwear were both name-brand, after all, he wouldn’t want to goop them up with bodily fluids. He looked ridiculous stumbling around his office with his pants and drawers around his ankles.
“Gimme those tissues,” he said, blushing. It looked like he was not used to the experience of blushing. He dabbed sweat off his brow with a monogrammed handkerchief. “It… I trust I can expect your discretion? Regarding the passport as well as the… everything else… Since, y’know…”
“I have lots of discretion. The part of my spleen that secretes discretion is also the part that loves getting slammed by you,” Avery said. “So why don’t I come back next week?”
“Fine. Yeah. Sure. I’m fine with… y’know…” He gestured to Avery’s ass and gulped. “That’s fine. No need for blackmail. Just, uh… come over to my office. We’ll talk… plot structure.”
“Good. Make time for me,” Avery said before handing the tissues over and walking out the door.

The Linebacker Bottoms

This game of Truth Or Dare is getting out of control! That’s because football linebacker Davy and two sorority chicks are so drunk they’ll do anything they’re dared to. Luckily for Avery, that includes bending over and taking one for the team! Avery is a cute little twink who never thought he’d top a massive alpha male football jock who’s too thick for girls! Can Avery satisfy Davy’s football-toned thickness?

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

When Avery came into the kitchen at Omega Omicron Tau House, he didn’t think anyone was still partying. He hoped to find some bread he could eat before the long walk back home. It promised to be a long, lonely walk. He wasn’t a college student, he just lived near campus and often found himself at college parties.
Much to his surprise, there were still partysimps milling about in the kitchen. Some girls he didn’t know appeared to have had the same idea — eating bread and butter as though it was ambrosia, hoping to sober up. But there was still a trio laughing and drinking as well. They giggled around the kitchen table: two of them were Lisa Anne and Brenda, two Omega Omicron Tau sisters and friends of Avery’s. The third was Davy, a burly white football jock with a square jaw, an awkwardly shy grin and a hefty body crawling with muscle. He was too big and crude and hairy to be cool and get invited to the cheerleader parties. Avery had been daydreaming about those muscles ever since glimpsing Davy shirtless at football practice the other day.
He was only here because the other football players were here. Everybody was invited to this rager. He was only here — in the kitchen right now — because everyone else on the football team was either passed out drunk or drunkenly fucking someone, probably a cheerleader, in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Some might have drifted into the house next door, which was Mosley House, one of the off-campus partyhaunts.
“Oh my god, Avery, you have to join in!” Lisa Anne said. “We’re gonna play Truth or Dare with Davy.” She and Brenda sat together, near Davy, who burped and blushed at himself. He raced to nod, but he was drunk enough to move slowly, and it looked like his nod threw his head off-balance.
Davy was not the kind of football jock who was successful with women. That was why he stayed up even so drunk he could barely stand — the girls were paying attention to him, and he didn’t want that to end. Lisa Anne and Brenda wouldn’t give him the time of day when they were sober. Alcohol was the great equalizer in a way, Avery thought. We are all equal at the bottom of a cup of tequila. Lisa Anne and Brenda giggled, and Avery could tell they were giggling at Davy’s bigness.
Their teasing laughter did not bother Davy. He was so girl-starved he would do literally anything they said, including drink until he was queasy. Lisa Anne and Brenda normally only hung out with the six-packed prettyboy football players. Jimmy, Raython, Ted, Bodie, Ezekiel, George, Charlie. Davy was the exact opposite of that. The girls were squealing and laughing, drunk as hyenas, clutching his arms — treating him like an ugly puppy, whose ugliness somehow makes him even cuter.
“That’s a baby’s game,” Avery said with a grin, “But yes. I’ll join in.” He hoped someone would dare Davy to take off his shirt soon. He probably wanted to go shirtless, as it was warm in here and Davy looked to have had the drunken sweats. His silver and red jersey was stuck to his skin near his armpits and down his ribs.
They were all drunk. Avery was sober-ish, but Davy was sloshed and the girls were blotto. Davy flexed his muscles beneath his jersey and his cargo pants, which was caused by anxiety, not a desire to be seductive. Davy was not the kind of man who knew how to be seductive. His pecs rippled like an earthquake, and that made his jersey ripple again and again.
“Davy keeps daring us to make out, he’s a pervert,” Lisa Anne said. She and Brenda giggled profusely, red-faced and bubbling. “But it’s your turn first, Avery. Truth or dare?”
“Dare,” he said. “Always dare.”
“Uh, lick the part of Davy’s body you most want to taste,” Brenda said, laughing so hard her face was red. Lisa Anne squealed like a piggie and hugged her close. The two of them hugged tightly through a sea gof giggles, which made them almost sway off their chairs and onto the beerspill-scented floor.
Davy bristled and forced a wan smile on his face. Avery grinned back at him. This was exactly why he came to sorority parties — you never knew when a bunch of jocks were gonna get naked. Avery loved frat boys, football players and big macho jocks like Davy, making him the ideal man for Avery.
“You can do it, Davy! If we can make out for you, you can let him lick your… whatever,” Brenda said, clutching Lisa Anne and hugging her as they giggled through the drunken hilarity of it all.
Avery looked at Davy bashfully, then lifted up his shirt. Rather than taking Davy’s shirt off — which Davy allowed for by leaning back in his chair and raising his arms — Avery simply inserted his head under Davy’s loose-fitting jersey. Avery loved the musty smell of his sweat-stains, which were intense under his shirt. Avery licked his nipples and every inch of his gigantic chest.
Davy took the jersey off anyway, and Avery blushed as he sat back up. The girls hooted and hollered. They stayed red-faced and laughing, but Davy outright cherried up. He looked at his feet and flexed his pecs again, making them ripple like an earthquake wracking a pair of mountains. The more the girls laughed, the more embarrassed he got and the more determined he was to not express his embarrassment.
Next up was Davy’s turn, and he murmured in his awkward, plodding baritone, “Truth.”
The girls hadn’t stopped giggling, but Lisa Anne managed to speak, through peals of laughter. “Have you ever been jacked off by a man?”
Davy remained red-faced. He was stony and silent at first, then a smile crept onto his face. “Well… Uh…”
“What is it?!”
“Oh my god, you have to tell us!” Lisa Anne positively screamed. Her and Brenda were clutching each other. This was the side of womanhood that Avery wasn’t a big fan of — the loud, screeching, ever-giggling side — but he was glad to have the opportunity to lick Davy’s chest, which Avery clutched from the side like a liferaft. He wondered how far Davy would let this go. The girls were so loud, Avery thought. When girls get drunk, their volume dial falls off.
“I let a guy jerk me off last year!” Davy blurted out. The girls cheered, but everyone else in the kitchen right now was either drunk enough to be passing out or was involved in their own private conversations. Davy cleared his throat and spoke over the girls’ laughter. “It’s tradition… Before the homecoming game, every player on the team has to let a man jerk him off.”
Lisa Anne and Brenda seemed to be expecting that, maybe they knew about the tradition. Probably do. They hang out with all the football players.
After that, the girls both picked Dare. Avery wanted to lightbulb up something funny for them to do, but Davy blurted that they should make out. They wasted no time in doing so. They were drunk enough that they merely fell over each other at first, but it soon evolved into a sloppy fascimile of two sorority sisters kissing. Lisa Anne even fingered Brenda, which she performed dramatically and expertly as though they did it all the time.
Maybe they did do it all the time. If Avery was a girl, he would. Why not?
Davy watched them groping each other with his eyes bugged out, tongue hanging from his mouth like a cartoon dog. His chest remained red, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat to accomodate what Avery was certain was a hardon.
“Dare,” Avery said, even before anyone pointed out it was his turn. “Always dare, darling.”
“Finger Lisa!” Brenda screamed, exactly like Davy had dared her to do just now. She guffawed in her best friend’s arms, both of them laughing so hard Avery wasn’t sure he could get his finger beneath their clothes.
Avery shrugged. Lisa Anne spread her legs and grunted like a macho man as Avery shoved his hand beneath her shorts.
Her vagina was hot and moist, not too dissimilar to fingering a man’s ass, a thin and bony man with an unpleasant ass. But still, Avery fingered her for a few seconds, and she suddenly stopped laughing, blushing as her pussy got moist beneath his touch. It looked like she hadn’t expect this to actually turn her on, but she was drunk enough to be an easy lay. Avery withdrew his finger and smelled it, making the whole circle laugh.
“Smells like nasty slut,” Avery said with a smile. “You been fuckin’ truckers again?”
“Oh fuck you!” Lisa Anne shouted. She mockingly slapped Avery, as her and Brenda descended into faux-accusations of sluttery.
Everyone’s eyes turned to Davy, who blushed. He opened his mouth and began to say ‘Truth’ again but Lisa Anne and Brenda interrupted him.
“You can’t just keep picking truth!” Lisa Anne said.
“If you don’t start picking Dare, we’re going to pick Truth,” Brenda said.
“Yeah. This isn’t fair. We’re doing all kinds of nasty stuff, come on!”
“Fine, fine,” Davy said. He licked his lips because Lisa Anne’s pouting involved her leaning forward, which gave Davy a perfect shot of her tits. He would have agreed to anything in that moment. “I’m game. I’m down for whatever.” He watched the girls giggle drunkenly in each other’s arms. “Dare.”
“Let Avery jerk you off!”
“No, no, wait, mess around with Avery, but let Avery be on top! Like prison shit.”
“Oh my god, yes, you’ll love it!”
“You totally will!”
“Ramrodding is prison shit, gu’l, you dunneed to know nuttin’ ’bout it.” Lisa Anne was doing an imitation of a black guy, someone who presumably told her about ramrodding. Avery was surprised, Lisa Anne and Brenda seemed too nice to know about that.
Nobody should tell girls about that stuff, Avery thought. They were all too drunk for him to say it out loud though.
Davy cleared his throat. It looked like his instinct was to say no, but he desperately wanted to keep playing and watching Brenda and Lisa Anne hook up in front of him. He scrupulously avoided eye contact with Avery, who was so shocked Davy didn’t refuse out of hand that he couldn’t think of anything to say.
“We’ll mess around at the same time! You can watch us!” Brenda said. Lisa Anne whispered in her ear, and they both giggled together. Their hands roamed over each other’s tits — over the clothes, but that was enough to make Davy’s eyes pop out.
Davy stuttered like a train. “Okay! Y-y-y-y-yeah… Okay. Okay. But we ain’t, uh, you know… we should-should-should, we should go somewhere, not doin’ it here, in here, in the kitchen, you know, where anyone can see.”
The girls agreed, still giggling so much they had trouble walking. They led Davy and Avery up the stairs to one of the unused bedrooms. The other two bedrooms had people passed out on the bed and on the floor, but this one was just a bed in a room, no other furnishings.
Davy stood there next to the bed, his red chest heaving for breath nervously beneath his loose-fitting jersey. He blushed and looked away when he happened to meet Avery’s gaze.
The girls immediately crawled on the bed and started kissing, hands groping each other’s bodies. Davy’s dick visibly jerked beneath his cargo pants. Avery grabbed it and stroked, which made Davy sigh. His muscles all relaxed at once.
Avery quickly took off his own clothes, then lifted Davy’s football jersey — Davy was too tall for Avery to take it off all the way himself, but he lifted it up and Davy removed it. His strapping chest was dappled with sweat, which Avery licked off. He slurped off the salt crystals that remained in every corner of Davy’s cavernous chest. That was exactly what he had imagined himself doing when he watched Davy shirtlessly practice with his teammates a few days ago, so it got him hard right away.
He pushed his hands down Davy’s pants and gave him a stroke. Davy had a massive dick that was already half-hard in the cotton prison of his jockstrap. Avery shivered as excitement coursed through his veins, and he tugged down that jockstrap. His cock popped out.
“C’mon, get to it, Davy!” Brenda said with a giggle before returning to kissing Lisa.
Avery leaned back on the bed and spread his legs. His dick hung, half-hard and ready. Davy sighed deeply, then kneeled down. Even as he did that, Avery wondered if he might back out. Davy had already gone farther than Avery had ever thought possible. Davy did not seem like the kind of linebacker who would ever bottom.
“Do it! Do it!”
He hesitated before sticking his tongue out. The girls chanted their encouragement, and Davy looked up at them before doing it. Then he closed his eyes again and, moving quick like he was ripping a bandaid off, he licked Avery’s shaft from tip to root, then gagged furiously when Avery’s dick jerked to attention.
The girls giggled and resumed making out themselves. Davy watched, mouth agape, his hips undulating as though he was trying to fuck the side of the bed. Avery pushed his dick in, deciding he needed to take charge of this situation or Davy would take forever.
“He’s doing it!” The girls squealed into each other’s bare breasts.
His dick jabbed into the back of Davy’s mouth, which was so big he could easily swallow all of Avery’s dick. Avery was surprised at how tenderly his tongue battered the shaft when he finally got into it, moaning into Avery’s crotch with every thrust of that dick inside his throat.
He soon stopped gagging and even seemed to almost not notice what he was doing, like he wanted desperately to forget so he didn’t think about it at all. He simply watched the girls take off each other’s clothes, writhing around on the bed together. Avery angled his body so he didn’t interrupt Davy’s view.
Davy’s tongue wrapped around Avery’s shaft, covering it with saliva. It was a hot and moist mouth. He drenched Avery’s crotch in his spit. He was a massive man with a massive throat, and he didn’t seem aware that he displayed extraordinary skill at swallowing Avery’s shaft. He didn’t even hesitate in going all the way down, until his fat nose nuzzled Avery’s crotch. Davy’s hands formed fists that dug at the mattress underneath him and Avery
The whole world came alive in Avery’s eyes, as intense shivers ran through his body. Davy’s tongue battered his cock. Avery moaned as pleasure assaulted his senses. Davy’s mouth was exquisite, and his amateur fumbling made it even better — an expert bottom with his skills and his cavernous throat could have got Avery’s nut off in seconds, and it was only his awkwardness that dragged out the exquisite sensations wracking Avery’s body. While Davy’s eyes remained pointed straight at the girls, Avery watched Davy’s curvy back muscles shift and flex as he moved up and down on Avery’s precum-leaking dick.
Davy made a sour face when he tasted that precum, but he didn’t move away. He just pretended it wasn’t happening and kept going. His eyes wildly flitted between Brenda and Lisa.
“Okay, boys, it’s time for you to move on,” Brenda said, now that her and Lisa Anne were naked. They were well beyond ‘making out’ now, they were all over each other, both of them watching Avery and Davy like they were a fascinating documentary. “We’ll sixty-nine, but we wanna watch some ramrodding.”
“Yeah, we dare you to let Avery ramrod you like a prison thug nigga-!”
“Yeah, like that nigga — keep it real, ramroddin’ bitches-!” They were both imitating some black guy again. They musta got catcalled or overheard a black guy on the subway or something. Avery didn’t want to ask because he was busy and besides, their response would be a long double-voiced story that was screamed by drunk banshees.
“Let him cum inside you!” Brenda shouted, her face turning red as she giggled into Lisa’s shoulder. They were both dizzy now, clutching each other because they laughed too hard to keep themselves upright.
Davy hesitated before nodding. He buried his head in the blankets while the girls giggled and pawed all over each other. Avery stood up, his head bonking Davy on the ear. Davy’s eyes stayed trained on the girls and their marvelously bare tits.
Avery’s dick dripped saliva, which was good because he was going to need a lot of lubricant if Davy’s ass was really intact, Avery thought. He arranged himself behind Davy’s burly body, standing on the floor next to the bed.
With his head resting on the mattress, Davy watched the girls like they were a lifeline and he was drowning in an ocean of dicks. Avery pulled his cargo pants down, then smiled at the sight of his big plump asscheeks.
The best thing about Davy’s ass, Avery thought, was how imperfect it was. Davy didn’t have the sculpted body of a quarterback or a lacrosse jock; he had a thick ass with plenty of padding, a bit of hair and a ruddy tone, rather than pure alabaster like most white guys in perfect shape. His asscheeks were like those pumpkins that win awards at county fairs, and Avery kneaded the soft flesh so he could savor the feel of the firm muscle underneath.
Avery spread his asscheeks. “Don’t worry, baby,” he said, patting Davy on the ass. “I’ll give you a reacharound.”
The girls laughed as they climbed on top of each other to start sixty-nining. Avery wedged his dick between Davy’s asscheeks but let it lay there at first, while he used one hand to get lube out of his pants pocket and his other hand snaked around to stroke Davy’s dick. Davy remained rock-hard, despite — or perhaps because of — his anxiety.
Avery worked the tip of his dick in but quickly felt resistance, along with a surge of intense pleasure that got his voice wavering. “You gotta loosen up, man, you’re bunched up tighter than Dick’s hatband. Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of lube and I’ll stop if it hurts too bad. Just relax, it’ll feel good once I get goin’.”
“Come on, Davy, open up…” Lisa Anne said. “We’re doing all this for you.”
Brenda giggled. “You’re not. You love this, you slut!”
“I do not! You’re the filthy slut!” They began mock wrestling on the bed, which made Davy moan with desire as he watched their drunken tits jiggle. It was exciting enough for him that it distracted him, and his ass loosened. His face was wide-eyed and excited.
Avery pushed his dick in before Davy could tighten up again. It was hot and soft and moist, better than any ass Avery had ever penetrated before. Davy moaned and grunted. He closed his eyes briefly, then resumed watching the girls, pretending nothing was happening in his ass. The lube helped a lot, and the spit that still dripped from Avery’s throbbing cock. Davy gritted his teeth as Avery ground his dick in deeper and deeper.
There was no mistaking this for a non-intact ass, Avery thought. He had never encountered a man that required so much patience. Every few seconds, Avery stopped to let Davy adjust. His ass would loosen just enough for another half-inch or so to go in, then Avery would feel yet more resistance.
But despite the awkwardness, Davy was already the best piece of ass Avery had ever plowed. Part of that was, of course, because Avery rarely ever plowed anyone. But the main reason was that Davy’s ass was both huge and tight, a double whammy.
Eventually he loosened up enough that Avery could get the entire length of his shaft in there. Davy bit his lip and grunted, his face still a bright red and fixed strictly on the sight of Brenda and Lisa’s coupling nearby.
Pounding his dick in and out, Avery felt an incredible surge of pleasure, like nothing he had ever experienced. His balls slapped against Davy’s big meaty body as he thrusted. Avery moaned so loud he blushed almost as deeply as Davy did, and the girls giggled. Davy shook his head and hid his face.
The difference in size between Avery and Davy made things rather awkward. The male body simply wasn’t built for a small, trim and delicate-bodied man to top a big, bulky brute like Davy. Avery had to stand on his toes and still had trouble getting up Davy’s ass.
But somehow the awkwardness of it made the whole experience better for Avery. He had to grasp and claw at Davy’s plump, juicy boss in order to keep his bearings. He moaned, his voice drowned out by Davy’s more pained grunting.
Despite Davy’s apparent discomfort he was also clearly aroused. His dick leaked precum into Avery’s fingers. When Avery finally found that Davy’s ass was open and loose enough for serious plowing, Davy’s dick spasmed and his grunting turned to aroused groans of surprised desire.
Avery smiled. He had found Davy’s prostate, and Davy didn’t seem to even notice the girls anymore. He bucked and flexed beneath Avery’s body, more and more enthusiastic with each slam of Avery’s dick inside him.
“Oh fuck yeah-” Davy moaned, then cut his own voice off. He moved along with Avery’s thrusts now, contorting as he accepted every inch of cockmeat deep in his tight ass.
While Davy’s passion was appreciated, it was also difficult for Avery — it was hard enough to remain on top of Davy’s massive frame when Davy lay still. Now Avery had to mount him like he was riding a horse, and he used his toes to support himself on the edge of the mattress, which Davy remained bent over top of.
Davy’s ass was so sexy that Avery had trouble focusing on giving a reacharound, which was also difficult given their position, with Avery straddling Davy’s ass, and Davy’s strapping body, which Avery had to strain to reach around. Avery could do little more than strain his arms around Davy’s waist to barely reach his crotch.
But then before Avery could adjust himself to get back to the reacharound, Davy crawled forward on the bed. He lifted his blushing head up, so that his ass jutted out, giving Avery perfect access to it. He was so big he took up more than half of the bed’s surface area, which was fine with him since it meant he could watch Brenda and Lisa Anne so closely he could smell their pussyjuice.
Not only that, Davy started jacking himself off. Even as he winced with Avery’s dick slamming in and out, Davy flexed his chest and stroked his own dick. It almost looked like an instinctual reaction, like he was only dimly aware he was doing it.
The girls were approaching orgasm, having long since stopped paying attention to Davy’s masculine heaving and grunts. They writhed in each other’s arms, while Avery gripped Davy’s thick-skulled head.
“Oh, damn, yeah…”
Avery wished he could have gone for longer, but he knew Davy would back out once the girls were done. So Avery didn’t fight back as his own orgasm washed over him in waves.
He collapsed to Davy’s back, planting his face between those massive undulating shoulderblades, which were hot to the touch and slippery with clean, salty sweat. The most intense orgasm of his life wracked Avery’s body, so powerful it hurt. He grunted in pain just like Davy did.
Moments later, Davy shot his own load into his hands and onto the bed. The smell of semen filled the air, which Avery was glad for because it replaced the scent of womanhood. Davy’s ass tightened all over, sending pulses of post-orgasmic pleasure up Avery’s spine.
Cum flowed deeply into Davy. Avery wasn’t sure he had ever shot so much. It felt like gallons of cum entering Avery and filling Davy up. Avery rubbed his face and ground his tongue into Davy’s back muscles, as they both orgasmed together.
Avery fell totally limp, savoring the feel of Davy’s football-toned back muscles beneath his tiny twink body. He had never felt so small in his life, and he loved it. He sucked on Davy’s meaty back until he was sure he had given him a few hickeys.
“Okay, okay, you’re done,” Davy said, his voice pinched and breathless; the agony was coming back to him now that it wasn’t overshadowed by bliss. “Get off me.”
Avery giggled and pulled away. Davy breathed a loud sigh of relief now that his ass was empty, and he winced as he grabbed a tissue to wipe his hand off.
Exhausted, Avery lay down on the bed next to the girls. They were done too, cuddling in each other’s arms. Davy stood over him, watching the girls.
When Avery reached up to massage Davy’s belly — which was almost, but not quite flat, exactly the way Avery liked it — Davy winced like he was ticklish. He smiled and crawled into the cramped bed. He climbed over Avery to lay between him and the girls, who giggled as he kissed Brenda on the cheek.
Avery, in turned, kissed Davy on the cheek as well, and slowly massaged his shoulders and chest. His pecs twitched beneath Avery’s fingers. Avery’s dick pressed against Davy’s thigh. Davy ignored him and did the same to both girls. They lay there for what felt like forever, until the girls were both asleep.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Avery asked.
Davy blushed. “I’ll deny it if anyone asks,” he said. “But that was incredible. If you ever get some more girls to play Truth Or Dare, gimme a call. I’ll pick dare every time.”
“Dare always, huh?”
“Dare always.”

Coachly Bonding

When wrestler Josh Chadwin has to shower with his college coach, he knew things would get awkward, but he didn’t know how enjoyable it could be! That’s cuz Josh is in for a wild ride of truck stop action, jock manhood and coachly bonding!

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Or read the whole thing right here!

Kyle Chadwin told himself he was being silly. Coach Walker wasn’t going to do anything to him. Chadwin was being punished, but it wasn’t like a real punishment; this wasn’t prison.
As he walked to that truck stop shower, it felt like prison though.
Chadwin was a college wrestler. He was one of the best athletes on the team, maybe the best, or at least the most consistent at meets, and everyone knew it. He was raised to be proud and confident and to make certain everyone knew that he could hold his own. He should show leadership. He needed to make certain the younger wrestlers understood his authority. He wasn’t the team captain, but if he got past this punishment and did well, he might be team captain next year.
Anyway, Chadwin had been trying to show leadership to the freshmen when some hazing got out of control. The end result was that Chadwin made one freshman wrestler run around the campus in his jockstrap. It wasn’t even really hazing, Chadwin thought, because the freshman was only doing it to be invited to an upperclassman party. But since the jockstrap exposed the freshman’s bare ass, it was treated as a “flashing incident” by the dean — women could have seen it, if there were any on campus at the time, which there weren’t, making the whole thing stupid, Chadwin thought. But he had been suspended for three weeks anyway. That suspension was up tomorrow, which was just in time for the state tournament. The dean even raced to institute the suspension so it would be over with in time for him to compete in the tournament.
But Chadwin had had no way of getting to the tournament aside from the team bus, which he was prohibited from riding in because he was still under suspension. The rest of the team had gone today and were spending tonight in a motel.
That was why Chadwin had had no choice but to ride in Coach Walker’s car.
They had to spend one night here in a Ramwide Truck Stop along the highway. Chadwin thought that was insane — he hadn’t asked beforehand, but he assumed they were going to sleep in a motel, separate from the team because the athletic department couldn’t pay for accommodations for him while his suspension was still on. He had assumed him and Coach Walker each have a room to themselves.
Now that assumption made him feel spoiled. Coach Walker said he couldn’t afford even one motel room. Chadwin could have asked his parents to pay. They probably would. But now he’d sound bratty if he said so, and it was too late anyway. The sun was going down.
“Does the truck stop have… beds?” Chadwin asked. He didn’t know if that was a foolish question or not. Semis have little bedrooms behind the truck cab, don’t they? But anyway, surely not all of them did, so maybe the truck stop did have rooms to rent overnight?
“No. But I don’t got the cash for a motel room, and the next one isn’t for miles anyway. All my money goes to my bitch ex-wife,” Coach Walker said with a dry chuckle, as his use of a curse word made Chadwin bristle and straighten his back. He patted Chadwin on the back. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. We’ll sleep in the car. I’ve done it before. My car’s real comfortable. My current wife makes me sleep out there at least once a month.”
Chadwin felt a sense of dread but agreed. He didn’t have any choice anyway — he wasn’t about to miss the state tournament for any reason.
But now they were at a Ramwide — that was a chain of truck stops known throughout the country — and Coach Walker told Chadwin to come take a shower with him. Chadwin had a much better body than Coach Walker, but he didn’t feel like it as they undressed together. Coach Walker snorted and sniffled, making noise every step of the way. He seemed ancient, though he was only middle-aged, and his darkly tanned skin was marked with scars and a few faded tattoos. He didn’t have a perfect six-pack, but he looked like he probably did back in the day.
Chadwin, on the other hand, was ropy-muscled and solidly built, but without all the heft of Coach Walker’s body. Chadwin was light-skinned and six-packed, with deep dimples and not a single scar, tattoo or mark anywhere on his mostly hairless body. Chadwin thought he shouldn’t be intimidated by the older man. If anyone saw them together, they’d say Chadwin was in better shape. He had a six-pack and plenty of muscles. Girls came running. Not that Chadwin was a pervert. He was ROTC, he was ready for the Army, or maybe the Marines, he hadn’t decided.
So he shouldn’t be nervous about showering with Coach Walker. He showered with his teammates and his ROTCmates. That was always awkward at first and even later. But they played around, snapped towels at each other’s asses, tried to fart on each other, competed to piss the furthest distance in the shower, talked about girls — horseplay, basically.
Can’t do horseplay with a grandfather. Coach Walker might not have been a grandfather, Chadwin had no idea. But he was old enough he could be, which was weird enough.
One of the Chadwin’s squadmates in the ROTC was a couple years older, and he was already out of boot camp. He said his drill sergeant came in and showered with his barrack cuz they kept getting in trouble for playing around, making a mess, squirting dandruff shampoo on each other and wasting time. He said his drill sergeant had a fat old wrinkly dick that was hard not to stare out, but they’d get shouted at for being pansies if they got caught looking at it.
Which was hilarious, but now that he was changing with Coach Walker in the truck stop bathroom, Chadwin also found himself unable to look away. It was big but not freakishly huge, and Chadwin suspected Coach Walker was a show-er, not a grower. Chadwin was the opposite. His cock was nothing to sneeze at, but it wasn’t impressive until it firmed up.
He gulped. Chadwin was stripped to his underwear, hesitating as Coach Walker got his socks off and then rubbed his feet with like a brush or something. Was that something old men did? Chadwin didn’t want to ask.
The other old man in the shower, some mangy redneck with a mustache, he came out into the changing area then. He too was naked and had a wrinkly old-man cock, though he was only maybe thirty. Looked like a hard thirty though.
“You fellers truckin’?” asked the mustachioed man. He stood there with his dingy tight-whites in one hand, scratching his balls and playing with his wet dick like he was trying to make it dry off quickly.
A disquieting sensation roiled Chadwin. He opened his eyes wide.
“Nossuh,” Coach Walker said. He sat down on the bench next to Chadwin, spreading his legs wide to let his cock and balls graze in the air. “We’s on the way to Richmond, for a wrestling tournament. Triple-A. This is Josh, he’s the wrestler. I’m a coach, obviously.”
The man nodded. “Cool, cool, wrestlin’ is a real man sport, I do declare,” he said. He stepped into his ratty tight-whites. “Not like gymnastics.” He sneered. “Or golf.”
They both chuckled, and Chadwin forced himself to do likewise. “Yeah, golf…” he muttered. Possibly neither of them noticed he said anything.
“Hmm-hmmm,” Coach Walker murmured, and he wrapped one arm around Chadwin’s well-muscled side. They both sat there — Chadwin still in his underpants — as the mustachioed man dressed and headed out the door. He did seem to notice that Coach Walker and Chadwin were just sitting there, not showering or anything, but he didn’t ask why. Maybe that was normal at Ramwide Truck Stop. “You okay, Josh?”
“Yes, yes, sir,” Chadwin said, as confidently as he could muster. Coach Walker’s hand stayed wrapped around his waist, gripping his ribcage firmly, as though the check how much fat there was there. None. Chadwin was aiming for a low weight class, that was why.
“I’ve been following that meal plan!” Chadwin blurted out. “And doin’ the sauna like you said.”
“Good, good.” Coach Walker stood up. His manhood dangled in front of Chadwin’s face, and Chadwin could smell the rank sweat of his ballsac. Or maybe that was just him. Chadwin wrinkled his nose. Coach Walker twirled his cock and thwacked it against one palm, then the other. “C’mon, let’s get our shower over with.”
Chadwin forced himself not to look at Coach Walker’s cock. Chadwin tried to tell himself it was okay, and it wasn’t bigger than his. That was true, it wasn’t, or at least it was maybe only barely right now, but when they were both hard — not that they were gonna both get hard, that would be ridiculous — but when they were both hard, they’d be the same size, Chadwin was sure.
Was Coach Walker getting a boner? As Chadwin finally dropped his underwear, he thought he detected a sliver of firmness in Coach Walker’s cockshaft.
He assumed that they’d go immediately into the shower, but instead Coach Walker grabbed Chadwin’s dick with one hand. He held it tight, almost tight enough to hurt. Chadwin sucked in his breath, then didn’t exhale.
Coach Walker’s other hand gripped Chadwin’s shoulder, then ran down his arm and to his chest. “Flex your biceps,” he said.
Chadwin did so. He cock throbbed in Coach Walker’s rough hand. Coach Walker rubbed his free hand all over Chadwin’s biceps and triceps, and he tweaked each pec until they twitched and rippled. Then — much to Chadwin’s growing wide-eyed horror — Coach Walker leaned in to take a deep long sniff of Chadwin’s armpit.
His nose got right in the hair too. It wasn’t a little sniff, it was a full-throttle snort, like he was hoping to inhale Chadwin’s sweat. Then he straightened up.
“Why you nervous, Josh?” Coach Walker asked. He placed his hand back on Chadwin’s dick, holding onto it like a handle. He normally called him ‘Chadwin’ even when most others called him ‘Josh’. Now that they were alone at the motel, he was calling him ‘Josh’. It sounded weird coming out of his old-man mouth.
“I’m not!” Chadwin blushed. He knew he sounded defensive. No one else was in the shower, so he really shouldn’t feel nervous. Only a pansy was nervous to be naked around men. A man. One man. One old man with big droopy balls.
“Big handsome boy like you, I know you get girls all the time!” He laughed. His other hand dropped to Chadwin’s ass, while his right hand stayed tightly wrapped around Chadwin’s cock.
Chadwin blushed. He was embarrassed though he didn’t know why. Coach Marshall — the head of the athletic department at GHU — had walked in on Chadwin plowing a nursing student in the girl’s locker room one morning. Chadwin had gotten in big trouble for that. The rest of the coaching staff kept saying that Chadwin was a real casanova and a pervert because of it, though Chadwin didn’t really think of it like that.
She was his steady girlfriend, after all. Not a one-night stand. They broke up last month, but it was a serious relationship. They were both Christian. They were talking about getting married. It was close enough to marital to be acceptable in Chadwin’s eyes.
“Hmmm… I know the girls love you and those dimples…”
“Yeah,” Chadwin said. He bit his lip. “I mean, yeah, yes, sir, Coach Walker.”
“Relax, relax, boy,” he said with a laugh. Both hands rested on Chadwin’s ass now, caressing his plump cheeks, which Chadwin was surprised to find he enjoyed. It was ticklish and awkward but pleasant. “Take a deep breath. We’s on a road trip now. I know you’re still young, you dunno what that means. On a road trip, y’know… when you’s away from home, Joshie-“
Chadwin grunted because Coach Walker was closer to him now, virtually hugging him and speaking directly in his ear. That meant his soft cock pressed limply against Chadwin’s thigh. Chadwin really hated it when anyone called him Joshie — that’s what his parents called him, and he didn’t even like it then.
“Nothing counts on a road trip, son,” Coach Walker said. “What happens here, it didn’t happen. Got it?”
“Uh, sir?”
“That means you can say what you want. You can do whatever feels right,” he said. He grabbed Chadwin’s cock with one hand. “You can smoke that weed I know you got in your duffel bag.” He chuckled, his hot breath condensing on Chadwin’s face. “As long as you share.”
“Oh…” Chadwin’s blood ran cold. Did it smell? He thought it might smell, but he double-wrapped it, then put it in a sealed container. It didn’t seem to smell.
“Have you ever thought about kissing a man, son?”
“No.” Chadwin’s voice trembled.
“I find that difficult to believe,” he said.
“I mean… I’ve thought about it. I would try it, uh, you know… if I knew anyone who…”
Coach Walker planted his lips on Chadwin’s. Chadwin quivered. It was a quick, chaste kiss. “You can go wait for me in the car, son. Or you can stay here and get dirty all over again.”
“Um… Okay.” Chadwin wanted to leave. He was glad to have that option.
But he didn’t.
No matter how much his mind told himself to walk away, he didn’t; he didn’t want to; he craved finding out what would happen next and how it would make him feel. His dick was already twitching and he was thinking about how much he needed a stiffy — he’d been single for a month, and his balls were aching. He wasn’t sure what was happening. A part of him still thought that maybe Coach Walker was just messing with him.
But nevertheless, Chadwin’s body apparently found it to get hard. His cock tingled and thrummed. He desperately wanted to blow his wad. He couldn’t think about anything else but Coach Walker’s hand encircling his cock. He wasn’t stroking it, just holding on for now.
“I’m glad you stayed, son. A lotta college boys is too scared to shower with me.” He flopped his dick between his fingers and hit Chadwin’s cock with it. Chadwin had a big slab of meat when it was hard — not as big as Coach Walker’s — but he felt small right now. “You scared this is gonna feel so good you forget about girls, huh?”
“Uh-“
“That won’t happen.” He smiled. “You wanna jack me off?”
“Uh, no…”
He frowned. “Fine. You don’t got to. You wanna taste my dick?”
“Uh, no…”
“You want me to ram you in the ass?”
“No!”
He laughed like he knew what the answer to that last one would be, he was just messing with Chadwin. He chuckled and shrugged. “Fine,” he said. “Remember, once we leave this truck stop, none of this happened.”
“Yeah.” Chadwin’s voice was weak and wavering. “Yes, sir.”
Then, without another word of warning, Coach Walker dropped to his knees and popped Chadwin’s cock in his mouth. He smiled and looked up at Chadwin, who gasped.
A shiver of pleasure ran up and down Chadwin’s spine. He groaned and grunted. Coach Walker’s mouth was warm and moist, and it sent tingles of intense sensations to wrack Chadwin’s body. Coach Walker ran his tongue up and down the shaft, making eye contact with Chadwin, who stood on his toes and held his breath.
“That feel good?”
Chadwin nodded. He didn’t know why, since it was awkward for him, not pleasurable. He had never been with a man at all. He had never even let a man touch his dick outside of some wrestling team horseplay — and once he stuck his cock in a gloryhole to let a woman suck him off, but another wrestler on his team Wesley said afterwards that it was a man in there. His cock throbbed, sending waves of pleasure through his body. Chadwin gasped.
It felt good, in a way. Chadwin’s mind reeled as Coach Walker started really slurping on it, slathering spit up and down his shaft, using his mouth and both hands on it. Chadwin wondered if he was even going to be able to get hard. It felt like a blowjob from a girl, he thought, but somehow more distant, less real.
That lasted only until he managed to take a deep breath and relax a little though. When his eyes were closed, he could almost forget he was with a man. The longer this lasted, the more he felt pleasure instead of awkwardity.
Finally his dick was hard. He hadn’t even felt it stiffen up, but it was as hard as steel now. Coach Walker was a hefty man who could swallow the whole thing, nuzzling Chadwin deep until his nose was nestled in his kinky pubic hairs. He had a cavernous mouth. He was big enough that he had to stoop over to take Chadwin in his throat.
This wasn’t the first time Coach Walker had gotten a taste of one of his wrestlers.
He had been able to tell that Chadwin would be willing from just a few days after the season began — he had discovered one easy way to tell which jocks would be willing and which wouldn’t: they fucked ugly girls, or at least fat girls. Chadwin was a handsome, popular, dimpled young man with a nice body; he could have, and did, get laid nearly every weekend, Coach Walker was pretty sure, and his locker room banter had made it clear he didn’t mind fucking large girls, ugly or unpopular girls, or girls he simply didn’t like.
Coach Walker had long determined that those athletes who fucked girls despite their appearance would also be willing to be jerked off by a man, even if they didn’t know it yet. He savored the clean, salty flavor of the precum flowing from Chadwin’s cocktip.
Or maybe Chadwin wasn’t like that, he’d often said he was Christian. Maybe he was just pretending in that locker-room talk. It wasn’t cool to be prudish nowadays.
He looked up at Chadwin and smiled around the cock in his throat.
Chadwin’s eyes were closed — scrunched shut tightly — and his face was tense. Chadwin twisted and writhed, hands flailing because he had briefly touched Coach Walker’s head only to be reminded he wasn’t with a woman. Coach Walker’s bald head (shaved, but you could tell he was naturally balding) felt distinctly masculine beneath Chadwin’s fingertips. So his hands hovered in the air instead.
As he felt Chadwin’s orgasm rising, Coach Walker tried to make him grab his head. He didn’t say anything because he knew his deep, gravelly voice would make Chadwin uncomfortable again. But he guided Chadwin’s hand to his scalp. Chadwin gripped him for only a moment, rammed his throat like a tender womanhood and he was a rampaging viking, until his cock filled up Coach Walker’s neck and throbbed in his throat.
Walker sputtered and gagged despite himself, letting out a moan in his baritone voice. His beard hairs scratched at the base of Chadwin’s dick, again reminding him he was with a man. He let go of his coach’s head, opening his eyes again just in time to meet his coach’s gaze.
Chadwin gasped, unable to look away or close his eyes as an orgasm coursed through his veins. He blushed intensely and cried out. Coach Walker grabbed Chadwin’s ass to make him throat him that way, using his gullet like a pussy, and he got that entire pulsating dick back in his throat just seconds before Chadwin filled him up.
Creamy hot cum sprayed down Coach Walker’s throat, coating him in his sticky juices. He could feel it trickling through his flesh and spreading through his veins. Coach Walker moaned as he shot his own wad on the floor. Chadwin didn’t notice that.
That’s cuz Chadwin’s young-man orgasm was intense and lasted a whole minute or two, maybe three. He lost his inhibitions and, in that moment, he really plowed Coach Walker’s mouth. His balls slapped over and over on his chin.
And still more jizz spurted out. It coated every inch of Coach Walker’s mouth and belly, and it collected hotly in his stomach. It was thick and creamy like alfredo sauce and just as savory. The taste was bright and sunny, salty, warm, delicious in every way, and Coach Walker tried his hardest to swallow it all.
That proved impossible, as he was already starved for oxygen when it began. As Chadwin came buckets, Coach Walker choked up his cock, just in time for the last and thickest of Chadwin’s jizzoms to jet out over Coach Walker’s face. It coated him from his forehead to his chin in hot creamy goodness., and Chadwin’s hands firmly gripped him by the ear as though still throating him down, but his cock was roping out over Coach Walker’s face, so Chadwin could only hump his erection atop the creamy soup of jizz he’d made covering his head.
Then Chadwin took one small step away, and his cock slid off Coach Walker’s face.
Slurping up what cum he could get to, Coach Walker kissed his way up Chadwin’s body, licking all of that cum off and teasingly taking the shower water off his body too. Chadwin’s wrestling-toned muscles throbbed beneath his tongue. He sucked on both nipples, and again, his beard hairs scratched at Chadwin’s skin, reminding Chadwin he wasn’t with a woman. Chadwin pulled away before Coach Walker could kiss him on the lips.
Coach Walker cursed himself. He should have shaved first, he thought. Always shave first, I’ve learned that lesson before.
But he pulled off Chadwin’s cock, now that it was clear he was uncomfortable with this once more. He smeared up the jizz drying on his face so he could slurp it off his hand, while his other hand teased out every drop of cum from Chadwin’s rapidly limpening dickshaft.
When both men were done, Coach Walker stood. He sighed and placed one hand on Chadwin’s shoulder.
“How was that, son? That’s how things go on road trips.”
Chadwin blushed and smiled nervously. “I guess that was… okay… I mean…”
“If we shower together on the way home, I’m gonna do that again. So you can signal yo’ okayness by either showering wit’ me again or not. You got a couple days to think about it.”
He turned around and finally trooped into the shower, leaving Chadwin there to regain his breath. A lot of times there were other men in a Ramwide Truck Stop, sometimes many. The showers were a social affair in these kinds of places, and Coach Walker enjoyed that aspect of them, the camaraderie, the brotherhood, the manly bodies…
In fact, if he weren’t with Chadwin, Coach Walker would have played around with that mustachioed man who was there to begin with. Oh well, he thought as he turned on a showerhead and let the water wash him clean. There was always next time, so long as Chadwin chose to shower with him on the return trip.
He sensed the answer was yes. Coach Walker vigorously soaped himself up and washed his armpits — he’d loved the smell and taste of Chadwin’s armpits. They had a fragrantly masculine aroma that got his dick hard, and he was going to smell even better after the wrestling tournament. They always did.
By the time he was ready to join Coach Walker in his shower, Chadwin had already decided to do it. As long as it was on a road trip, he thought, he wouldn’t have to tell anyone and it wouldn’t count.
And he couldn’t wait to learn what else Coach Walker had in store for him.