football – Mansploitation

Jockstrap Raid!

The football team at GHU did a panty raid, which means the gymnast team is allowed to turn the tables… The jocks get their jockstraps raided, resulting in a massive-athlete multiple-man locker room showdown both teams will never forget!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Last year, the football team had done a panty raid on the cheerleaders in the locker room. They stormed in there half-naked and shouted ‘Panty Raid!’ over and over as they grabbed used and clean panties from the girls. It was a big scandal at GHU afterwards. The cheerleaders themselves called it an enjoyable prank, but the feminist groups on campus were less enthused.
But now this year, Avery and the other gymnasts marched into the men’s locker room a few minutes after football practice ended. His heart pounded as he and the other gymnasts chanted, “Jockstrap Raid! Jockstrap Raid! Jockstrap Raid!”
That was because the gymnastics team had won the state championship this year, the first GHU team to win a championship in years. The football team had had a dismal season, so Coach Marshall told the gymnasts to come on in and go to town on the football jocks.
The players were sullen, sweaty beasts, angry with each other for having lost the season badly and having had a disappointing practice today. They stood and sat on benches in the locker room, dressed mainly in their jockstraps, though a few were naked, crotches covered by their hands as they watched the gymnasts file into the locker room.
“Jockstrap Raid! Jockstrap Raid! Jockstrap Raid!”
Avery blushed. He wasn’t used to being this forward. It was normal for athletes to be so horny they couldn’t resist stealing girls’s panties. But he and his fellow gymnasts just didn’t do that kind of thing.
“Give us your jockstraps, men!”
The gymnasts clapped and hooted as they spread out. Someone even turned the lights off, so the locker room was dimly illuminated only by the emergency lighting. That made it significantly easier for Avery, who didn’t feel like he was about to be beat up as he approached Jimmy.
Jimmy was the quarterback and team captain, and he had the most well-sculpted ass that Avery had ever seen. Once a few months ago, Avery walked past the men’s locker room and caught a glimpse into the door as it swung shut. Jimmy was there, wearing a jockstrap and nothing else, flicking a wet towel. His muscled back was covered in either sweat or shower water, Avery couldn’t tell which. There was a sink area near the door, so Jimmy’s presence near enough that Avery could see him from outside suggested that Jimmy and the team were engaging in horseplay there in the lockers. Avery had shuddered at the sight of Jimmy’s plump asscheeks cradled by a soaked jockstrap.
Now he went up to Jimmy’s shadowy body. He stood with one foot on the bench, mid-conversation with a linebacker when the gymnasts filed in. He remained right there, balls overflowing from his jock pouch where it dangled between his open legs. His broad muscles were bare, his crotch unblocked from view, cuz Jimmy was shameless like that. When he spoke, his balls jiggled in the pouch of his jockstrap.
“Give up the jockstraps, gentlemen!” shouted the gymnastics team captain, Fred. He was the most flamboyant and feminine of the gymnasts, and as he spoke, he shook his ass in his trackpants in front of the tight end Charlie Smitkowski, who giggled like he was watching his first stripper give him a lapdance.
“This is weird, Jimmy.”
“Don’t be fuckin’ squeamish, man. Ain’t a big deal. We told the cheerleaders it weren’t a big deal, so it can’t be a big deal now-” Whoever that was — Avery didn’t see in the darkness — squealed then, and there was an explosion of movement.
“Damn, whoever that was, that’s too much, you can’t stick your finger in my ass!”
Avery ignored the nervous laughter of the football players. He steeled his own nerves and reached out for Jimmy’s broad, strapping chest muscles. Jimmy must not have realized it was going to happen, because he yelped in surprise and his muscles all tensed at once.
That rolling undulation of his powerful muscles was enough for Avery to get dizzy and overheated. Jimmy dripped with sweat, and his pectoral muscles were like overinflated soccer balls, hard and unyielding yet soft and inviting at the same time. Avery leaned in and licked the sweat off his nipples as Jimmy joined the other teammates in laughter.
“Oh yeah, nasty!”
“Lick it up, boys! Lick it up!”
They laughed cockily as though they enjoyed being the object of attention from a bunch of flamboyant gymnasts, but they were all distinctly nervous. Their muscles remained tensed as the gymnasts explored their football jock bodies.
“Jockstrap Raid! Jockstrap Raid!”
Meanwhile Avery’s hands roamed down Jimmy’s body. Jimmy stood there, flat on both feet now like a soldier at attention. His muscles quaked like he was slightly ticklish or just plain nervous at Avery’s hands on the straps of his jock.
A part of Avery wanted to keep going and stroke Jimmy off, but he didn’t — nobody else was, and he didn’t think Jimmy would allow that. Coach Marshall hadn’t said they could do it (though he hadn’t say they couldn’t either). And the football players hadn’t had sex with the cheerleaders after the panty raid — or had they? Now Avery wasn’t sure. He knew he heard once that the football players had all eaten out a cheerleader’s pussy at the same, and they had switched girls as a competition to see who was best.
That seemed gross and unsanitary to Avery, but, he could hardly complain. Once he pulled down Jimmy’s jockstrap and had it in his hand, he shoved the entire thing in his mouth. He suckled on it, trying to get every drop of salty moisture.
“Oh damn, I ain’t think they was gonna lick on ’em!”
“That’s is fuckin’ nasty. We ain’t suck on the panties.”
“Raython did.”
“Fuck you, I did not! I licked one panty-“
“You brought it back to the dorm afterwards though-“
“I ain’t suck on it!”
A fight broke out. In the dark, Avery couldn’t see who was involved. There was a flurry of punches, shouts of ‘come at me, then!’ and ‘try me, bro!’ but soon enough it was done. Avery couldn’t even tell who fought — Raython exchanged punches with someone, but that only lasted a moment and was more friendly than a real fight. But the players bumped into each other, sparking a real fight. Avery was right there in the melee. His heart raced. In the dark, fists flew willy-nilly, and more than one gigantic hulking linebacker rammed into him accidentally.
Yet Avery didn’t want to find his way out of the crowd. Everywhere he looked and everyplace he flailed his hands, all he gripped was sweat-dripping muscles, hairy flesh and jockstraps that Avery was desperate to get his hands on.
“Come at me, then bro!” someone shouted, as a brief fight erupted.
“Fuck you, man, no fighting in the locker room!” Jimmy shouted as the other shadowy player got up and stalked off towards the showers. Jimmy wagged his fat cock in that player’s direction. He scoffed. As the team captain, it was up to him to make sure they didn’t fight in the locker room. He sighed and glared at his teammates.
The remaining players were crammed in so close together that Avery could barely breathe. He was short, especially for a gymnast, so on most of the football players, Avery’s face was even with their nipple lines or even lower than that. Since the players were crammed into a tiny part of the locker room, Avery was pinned between their slabs of sweaty meat. He stuck his tongue out and everywhere he turned, he lapped up a fresh batch of freshly sweat-dappled muscle.
“Fuck you, Jimmy! You thought we would win! You promised it-“
“Oh grow up, Tony! I’m the team captain, of course I said we would win if we worked hard and played our best,” Jimmy said. “What kinduva team captain would say anything else?” He put his hands on his hips. Avery managed to squeeze through the players until he was behind Jimmy, whose sweaty back pressed against Avery’s face. Without thinking about it, Avery’s hand began loosely caressing the light blond hairs of the small of Jimmy’s back. When Jimmy didn’t protest, his fingers moved lower, playing with the moist funk of Jimmy’s asscrack.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be our team captain anymore!”
“After the season is over?! There’s not even any point to having a team captain anymore. There’s no more games,” Jimmy said.
“The cheerleaders are going to the basketball team party. The basketball team barely did any better than we did, and they’re all gonna get blowjobs-“
“We were invited to the same party,” Jimmy said. “Come on, guys-” Jimmy bristled and tensed up as Avery’s finger brushed over his asshole, his tight, dark, funky hole. His voice cut off and broke.
“We can get you off!” Fred shouted, and the other gymnasts all cheered.
The football players exchanged odd glances in the dark. It looked like some of them had forgotten the gymnasts were here. Avery realized only just now that more than a few of his fellow gymnasts were stroking off the football players in the dimly-lit locker room. A few of the football players let out some nervous laughter. One of them walked away, shaking his head as he headed to the showers.
But most of the team remained. Avery couldn’t believe this was happening. His hand roamed from Jimmy’s ass to his crotch. Avery’s heart skipped a beat as he gripped that thick shaft.
“Uh… Is this… okay?” Jimmy asked, directing the question at his teammates. There was a chorus of sharp breaths as the football players gasped. They looked at each other, raising their eyebrows, questioning who was going to give in to this and who was going to go take a shower.
No one actually answered Jimmy, but since no one — including Jimmy himself — walked away, the answer was apparently yes, at least for those jocks who hadn’t already left (a few had). Someone let out a long, low groan that provoked laughter in the other players.
“Who was that? Huh? Someone really likes it!”
“That was Raython, I’m sure of it.”
“Guess again, motherfucker. It was Tuck.”
“No it wasn’t. The guy on my dick ain’t even do it very good, nothing personal.” That was Tuck, the left tackle, who gasped then as the gymnast on his dick fell to his knees and swallowed his dick all the way down to the root.
“Ah, shit they doin’ it now! They doin’ it!”
One by one, the football players each said it was no big deal. Even Jimmy said it, though his voice quavered and his body tensed like he didn’t entire believe that. Or maybe he was so horny that his body tensed beneath Avery’s grasp. His dick throbbed.
Either one drop of precum escaped from Jimmy’s cock, or maybe it was a droplet of sweat. Regardless, Avery felt it coat Jimmy’s shaft and Avery’s fingers, lubing his hand up.
Something had changed then. Avery sensed it, and he knew everyone else had sensed it too — this jockstrap raid had become a circlejerk. The jockstraps themselves tumbled to the floor, forgotten. Someone was already getting someone else off, Avery could hear the moist suckling sounds.
“Ah, goddamn, it’s true what they say about men throating better than females… fuck…”
Avery dropped to his knees to start throating as well He was so short that when he went all the way to the ground as he usually would, he was too short. He could have crawled like that between Jimmy’s legs and Jimmy’s balls wouldn’t have dragged on Avery’s back — Jimmy was just too tall.
So Avery had to stretch his head upright, on his knees in front of Jimmy. He still had to strain to reach Jimmy’s cock, which was just slightly hard. It twitched as though trying to run away from Avery’s mouth when he kissed it on the tip.
“Oh, damn, my guy is makin’ out with it,” Jimmy said, with one muscled arm covering his eyes even though he was in a darkened locker room so he couldn’t see anyway. He giggled nervously like a little boy. The other players were reacting similarly — all except Raython, who reacted like he did this all the time.
“C’mon,” Raython said, “Go deeper…” He groaned and moaned as he did so. Avery couldn’t tell who was licking Raython’s shaft, but whoever it was gurgled as Raython’s cock rammed down his throat.
But Jimmy was too ginger about this to do anything like that. He flailed his hands above Avery’s head as though he wanted to start guiding him but didn’t want to touch him, like Avery’s short hair would remind him that the person tasting his cock was not a girl.
By now Jimmy’s cock was hard as stone. It throbbed and pulsated in Avery’s mouth, and it twitched as though it had a mind of its own. It communicated its desire to Avery through its vibrations in Avery’s hungry throat.
“Holy hell…”
“I was not expectin’ practice to end like this…”
Even in the dark, Avery could tell that Jimmy was red-faced, his chest and neck ruddy as pleasure wafted through his body. He suspected that Jimmy would have never agreed if the lights weren’t off in the locker room.
One of Avery’s hands snaked out without him thinking about it and grabbed the muscular booty of one of the players standing nearby. Avery moaned as he felt another pair of sweaty asscheeks, which twitched nervously beneath his touch.
He moved down to Jimmy’s balls, which were heavy and low-hanging. They smelled rank with sweat right now, though that scent was mostly indistinguishable from the locker room itself. Avery made as much noise as he could because it made the football players laugh — a deep, boisterous chorus of laughter that echoed in the locker room — and the other gymnasts joined in.
“Ah fuck, he slurpin’ on my balls now,” Jimmy murmured. Some of the other jocks laughed at his shocked tone.
Soon the locker room was filled with the deafening roar of loud suckling, moist bubbling sounds and wet choking as the gymnasts sputtered on massive jock cockmeat sliding down their throat. More than a few of the football players made plenty of noise too, moaning softly, cutting themselves off because no one — save Raython, who was shameless — wanted to seem like they were really into this.
But the sharp gasps and hyperventilating made it clear how enjoyable this was for the players, including Jimmy, who felt up his own nipples now.
Avery guided Jimmy’s hand from his chest to Avery’s own head. Jimmy instinctively gripped him tight and slammed his dick all the way down. They both groaned, but then Jimmy pulled away like he hadn’t meant to do that.
“Damn, why couldn’t you have long hair like a girl?”
Avery wanted to explain why, but his mouth was full of ballsack. He had had long hair in high school, but it made him look like a girl from behind and the football jocks had teased him so much he cut his hair. It wasn’t conducive to serious gymnastics either.
He gargled on the balls in his mouth, making a loud, somewhat nasty sound that caused the football players to all laugh. Only Jimmy didn’t laugh, because he threw his head back and moaned.
He wasn’t paying attention, which was perfect for Avery’s new plan. He took ahold of Jimmy’s hand again. Before, he had guided it to his head so Jimmy could really get it down his throat, though Jimmy had been uncomfortable with that. This time, however, Jimmy was busy moaning as his sensitive balls bounced and dripped sweat into Avery’s mouth.
So Avery guided Jimmy’s hand to his buddy, who was the dark-haired wide receiver George. Jimmy didn’t seem to notice as he clutched his teammate’s muscled back, and his hand was guided down to George’s ass.
Both Jimmy and George realized what was happening at the same moment. They both yelped and jumped. Jimmy drew his hand away, and Avery giggled.
Avery kept his mouth in position beneath Jimmy’s juicy balls, but then he moved his tongue back as he slid between Jimmy’s legs. Avery’s tongue ran along Jimmy’s sensitive taint, causing a shudder to run up his spine.
“Ah, damn, that tickles…”
The sweat here was fresh. It was salty and grimy, and it made Avery’s own cock pulsate in his hands. He writhed and Jimmy must have felt similarly, because his knees buckled and he nearly fell over.
But Avery didn’t stop there. He continued licking Jimmy’s taint as though he wanted to lick right through the skin. Then he slipped through Jimmy’s legs and came up, tongue-first on the other side.
That meant his face dived between Jimmy’s asscheeks. Jimmy wasn’t a very hairy jock overall, but his ass had plenty of fine blond fur. As soon as his tongue ran over Jimmy’s sensitive asshole, Jimmy bent over and moaned. His teammates laughed at him, but no one could quite see what was happening so they didn’t know that Avery was giving a rimjob.
Jimmy had clearly never had anyone lick his ass before. He gasped in shock with every lap of Avery’s tongue on that sensitive hole, and he writhed as though it hurt when Avery finally entered his ass. He backed his hips up, penetrating himself with Avery’s tongue.
The sweaty ass-funk of Jimmy’s unwashed body coated Avery’s mouth. He loved licking a big macho straight man’s asshole because it always tasted so nasty in a perfect way — it tasted like pure manhood, like Avery had taken all of the things that make a man manly and put them in a blender, then chugged it by the mouthful.
“I don’t know ’bout y’all,” Raython said with a groan. He loudly smacked his gymnast’s ass. “But I’m gonna stick this guy in the ass. That okay wit’ you, queer?” He laughed.
“What?!”
“You serious, Raython?”
In the darkness, Avery couldn’t see, but it sounded like Raython wasn’t waiting for the approval of his teammates. A moist slapping sound filled the air, and Avery could tell that it was Raython’s uncut cock sliding into someone’s ass.
“Hell yeah, I’s serious,” Raython said. “Real men don’t care what they stick it in, y’know. When yo’ balls is full, you gotta drain ’em somewhere.”
“No way!”
“Uh-huh.”
Raython cackled. “What ’bout you, Jimmy? You a real man or what?” The laughter vanished. Avery stuck his tongue deep in Jimmy’s ass as he reached around to stroke Jimmy’s cock. Jimmy bristled and his spine arched. Avery got the impression that Raython was Jimmy’s chief rival for the team captaincy next year, so this was just the most recent of Raython’s attempts to degrade Jimmy’s manhood.
“Fuck you, Raython, I ain’t squeamish. You know that. I took sloppy ninths on that fat chick, remember-?”
“Yeah, that ain’t nothin’, Jimmy.”
“Nothin’?! There was cum oozing out of her, man! It was dripping off my balls in clumps!”
“You drew the short straw!”
“Yeah, I know, but if I was squeamish I would’ve backed out. And I am gonna stick my guy in the ass. He been beggin’ me for it,” Jimmy said. He roared and pulled his ass away from Avery’s face. Before Avery even realized what was happening, he was bent over the thin bench between the lockers, and Jimmy began to shove his dick in.
Avery was focused on two things — first, he needed to relax his ass so Jimmy could get really deep inside him in it. Second, he needed to balance himself on the narrow bench, at one end of which sat a player, the wide receiver George. He faced away from Avery as he allowed some gymnast to get him off.
Since Avery was behind George, every time Jimmy slammed his dick into Avery’s ass, that forced Avery’s face forward. The motion planted Avery’s entire head in the meaty asscrack of George’s body, which was hairier and thicker than Jimmy’s.
He stuck his tongue out. He would have tried to lick George’s ass, maybe even given him a rimjob while Jimmy rammed his cock into Avery’s ass, but Jimmy pounded so hard Avery couldn’t keep still. All he could do was leave his tongue poking out so as he moved he covered George’s asscheeks and his lower back in his spit. He wasn’t even sure if George noticed — the players and the gymnasts were still crammed into a small area, so hands and tongues and muscled bodies bumped into each other all over the place.
“Yeah, ram it in that ass!”
Then the sensations grew so intense Avery couldn’t even keep his tongue out anymore. Jimmy pounded into him, his gingerness diminishing with every thrust of his hips. He used one thick-fingered hand to keep Avery’s head low, and his other elevated Avery’s hips so they were at the perfect height.
Jimmy’s big throbbing cock slid in and out. The precum flowed like frothy champagne, rivulets of it dripping into and out of Avery’s ass. Jimmy slammed his cock over and over, grunting — his reluctance had switched to aggressive lust now that he needed to prove something to Raython, who pounded even harder.
“Ugh, I smell that…”
The smell of cum and santorum filled the air. Was that Raython? George? Someone else? Avery couldn’t tell. Someone shot a huge, ripe load that smelled so tasty Avery licked at the air, succeeding only in getting a tongue-load of George’s ass instead.
After that first person — whoever it was — came, the others followed suit quickly. It seemed no one had wanted to be first, but no one wanted to be last either. They sprayed their loads over their bottoms’s faces and down their throats, moaning and flexing their muscles as they did. More than a few of them even slapped hands with each other while orgasming and filling their bottoms up with cum.
“Yeah, take that shit! Swallow it!”
“Open up!’
“Gonna fill yo’ guts, boi. Gonna fill ’em up real good.”
The loudest was Raython, whose roaring and pounding on his chest could be heard over the satisfied gurgling of the others. He grunted as he sprayed his load inside his bottom’s hole, coating his guts in cum that dripped out and onto the floor.
The smell of cum seemed to trigger Jimmy, who moaned in disgust, then in pleasure as he ran headlong into his own orgasm. His dick tingled and quivered, sending waves of pleasure up from Avery’s prostate.
He and Jimmy both came then at once, Avery shooting his load onto the floor and into his own hand, while Jimmy filled him up. “Ah, damn…” For the first time, Jimmy stopped gingerly avoiding touching Jimmy’s body. His knees buckled, and he leaned forward until his massive chest rested on Avery’s bare back.
If Avery weren’t mid-orgasm, it would have been painful because Jimmy was so big. His quarterback muscles pressed down on Avery, which forced Jimmy’s dick in so deep Avery tried to howl at the intense waves of sensations wracking his body — he couldn’t howl, however, because he couldn’t take a deep breath.
“Yeah, take it… Take it all…”
The cum flowed into him like water from a hose. He and Jimmy both moaned. Jimmy’s chest rattled where it dragged against Avery’s back, and Avery could hear Jimmy’s orgasmic grunt through his fleshy chest in addition to through his ears.
Jimmy lowered his head as he came, and he either didn’t notice or didn’t care that his face was planted in George’s muscled back. Finally Jimmy’s cock twitched one last time, sending a final wave of bliss through Avery’s body.
Then Jimmy pulled off. His cock plopped out with an audible moist sound that made Avery shake with desire.
“Well, uh-” Jimmy’s voice was cut off by the lights flickering back on.
For a moment, both teams were visible. The football jocks were standing and seating, while the gymnasts were on the floor, hunched over, bent down, kneeling, groaning, writhing as they swallowed the cum that had just been sprayed over them.
“Hey!” Coach Marshall stood there, his face red. He blew his whistle. “Hey! Gymnasts, get outta here! I told you could come in and steal their jockstraps! I ain’t say you could steal their virtue! Get the fuck out!”
Avery felt a surge of fear, like he was going to get in trouble — he had always been a good student. He wasn’t used to being in trouble. But he saw that his teammates weren’t getting worked up. They slowly cleaned themselves and headed towards the door behind Coach Marshall.
“Football players! Get in the shower! Now! On the double!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, so loud spittle dripped from his lips. “We’re having a team meeting in the shower, and I’m turning the hot water off!”
The players grumbled, but they jumped into action. They were all naked already, so they hurried towards the shower, where a few of their teammates were already cleaning themselves off. The shower area was still steamy for now, because Marshall hadn’t yet turned the hot water off.
Avery and the other gymnasts just giggled and headed towards the door. As Avery passed Coach Marshall, he tickled his crotch and felt his middle-aged cock twitch underneath his own jockstrap. Avery had thought Marshall was intensely arousing since the first moment he laid eyes on him.
“Hey! I ain’t part of the jockstrap raid!” Coach Marshall said. Avery and his fellow gymnasts giggled. Coach Marshall’s authoritarian, drill-sergeant-vibe vanished like he didn’t know how to interact with non-jock men. “You had better not do this without permission, again, boys. I give permission for all jockstrap raids. Only me.”
“Well, when do we get to do it again?”
“Yeah, what about the wrestling team?”
Coach Marshall opened his mouth as though to bark out some orders. Then he nodded his head thoughtfully. “Yeah. Fine. If the wrestling team loses next weekend, you can do a jockstrap raid on them. And the baseball finals are the week after that…”
The gymnasts cheered over Coach Marshall’s recitation of the sports teams at GHU and their final matches, and Avery smiled. He thought he was going to enjoy his freshman year.

The Football Team

Rob is at it again, this time landing an entire college football team! Their coach lets Rob go to town all over their studly alpha male bodies, and these jocks are all too happy to use him as they see fit!

Can Rob handle these young men’s carnal desires?

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Rob got hard as soon as he walked into the locker room. The entire GHU football team was there, eyeing him suspiciously. They knew who he was, of course, they just weren’t sure how to treat him. Rob entered as Coach Marshall finished his pre-practice spiel, which involved significant scolding, the slapping of asscheeks and many sexually charged insults. During all of that, the players focused on sneaking curious glances at Rob.
When he was done, Coach Marshall briefly introduced Rob to the team and said to do whatever he said and that Rob was no excuse for poor performance today. Coach Marshall was embarrassed with this part, so he got through it quickly and left. Once he was gone, Rob blushed and told the players to just relax.
“I won’t hurt, I promise,” Rob said with a casual grin.
He started with Raython Lake, a beefy running back with a curvy body and broad shoulders. Lake had implied he was very comfortable with this and even got dome from men in the past — he had an “old guy” who paid him for his old jockstraps and an occasional swing on his meat — Lake says “all dome is good dome”, and he has similar views on pussy. All that made him seem like a good place to start. Lake was sitting on a bench between rows of lockers, wearing nothing but a jockstrap soaked with sweat.
Rob inserted his tongue into the top of Lake’s asscrack, making him giggle like a schoolboy, then Rob licked in one long smooth motion all the way up Lake’s spine. Salty sweat coated his tongue and made him moan with desire.
“Holy shit, Lake, is he lickin’ your butt?”
“He is, he is-“
“That’s a rimjob, broh.”
“Nah, nah,” Lake said, suppressing a baritone laugh that came from either anxiety or ticklishness or both. His back arched and squirmed as Rob’s tongue explored the smoothness of his flesh. “He just lickin’ my back.”
“Is that a thing?”
“Are you into backs?”
That made Rob laugh as well. “No, no, not really, guys, I’m not especially into backs,” he said. He clutched the broad muscles of Lake’s back. “That’s not what this is about-“
“Then why are you licking my back?”
“I have never licked a girl’s back.”
“Right? There’s no point. There’s nothing there.”
“Maybe it’s foreplay! Maybe he’s gonna seduce you, Lake.”
“Will not.”
“Maybe back licking is just the first step-“
Rob held up his hands. “Guys, relax. There’s no secret to uncover here. I just like muscles, that’s all. I like sweaty muscles, no matter what muscle it is. His back was right there, available, big and sweaty so I licked it. That’s all. There’s no wider lesson to be learned from that.”
There was a long awkward pause. Then Rob smiled and licked the back of Lake’s neck, scooping up every drop of salty sweat that collected there. He massaged Lake’s sensitive flesh, feeling his ribs and his flat belly. He tweaked each of his nipples.
“Why do you like sweat? That’s gross.”
“Yeah, don’t you want to wait until after we shower?”
“No!” Rob blushed as they giggled at his reaction. “I mean… No need for a shower.”
“Okay, guys, come on, quit payin’ attention to him, we got practice to get ready for. He ain’t here to distract us,” said Jimmy, the broad-shouldered blond quarterback and team captain. He rolled his eyes at the assembled group. He had a big grin on his face. “We gotta talk about the game tomorrow, or Coach Marshall is gonna lecture me about leadership again. First of all, Tuck, did you finish your mission?”
Rob had finished licking Lake’s back and moved on to the next player, Tuck, a hefty tackle with a deep Texan drawl, a cowboy hat on his head — which he only took off during games — and an expansive tattoo of the Confederate flag on his back. He had an unkempt beard and an even unkempter mustache, and his broad shoulders gleamed with beads of sweat that clung to the hairs that extended to his shoulders and beyond.
“Well, I went ovuh to that campus, and I reckoned they wouldn’t tell me nothin’ unless I fit in. So I got to drinkin’,” he said. And then he began a long story about going to a frat party at a different college on the other side of Atlanta. It was obvious — to Rob, anyway — that Tuck’s story was going to end with him getting too drunk to steal the other team’s playbook, which was what he had been told to do. But he took a long time to get to that point in the story. “I was drunker ‘an a skunk on Sunday, lemme tell you!” He whooped and slapped his meaty thigh. He continued his story — it was obvious his teammates were used to his slow, rambling stories.
That didn’t bother Rob, who used that time to get freaky. He bent down between Tuck’s legs and kissed his jockstrap-clad balls, making him stop talking for about a second as he gasped in surprise. He blushed and tried to pretend he wasn’t distracted by Rob’s ball-sucking.
“Tuck, are you about to tell us you passed out drunk on the lawn?”
“No!” His voice broke, and he blushed as his balls twitched. Tuck roared in frustration and stood up. He took off the jockstrap, and his heavy redneck cock popped out. He threw the jockstrap on Rob’s head and sat back down. Tuck arranged the straps so the jock-pouch part was over Rob’s nose — and he got a head full of muscle, sweat and Texan machismo, pubic hairs coating his cheeks, the astringent scent bringing tears to his eyes. But if Tuck intended to distract Rob, that effort failed because Rob just licked his bare cock instead.
“Then what happened?”
“I… fell asleep.”
“You passed out!” Jimmy shouted. “I oughta make you lick that guy’s balls, man.”
“Fuck you, Jimmy! You said to get drunk with them!”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I guess I should have specified that you shouldn’t get so drunk you pass out without completing your mission. Let’s just make that a permanent rule, okay? Anytime I give you a mission, I do not want you to get so drunk you can’t fulfill it. I also do not want you to get distracted by chasing butterflies, smoking crack or joining the Scientologists, Tuck! Should I list everything that should not distract you from your mission? No? Of course not, nothing should distract you from your mission, Tuck, that’s what makes it a mission!”
The entire team was laughing now, and even Tuck chortled, though he also winced and blushed. His dick twitched beneath Rob’s tongue, but it didn’t get hard.
He moved on to a dark-haired white man named Charlie, who looked at him like an oncoming tsunami as Rob came closer to him. He flexed his bicep, either as a threat or an invitation, since Rob had promised to lick muscles, or maybe as a distraction because he didn’t want Rob to focus on his cock.
So Rob did it — he loudly, moistly kissed Charlie’s left bicep, then slathered spit all along it. He had a barbed wire tattoo encircling his arm, which Rob traced with his tongue. He marveled at how rock-hard the muscle was, like he was licking a warm statue instead of a person. Why did only young bucks ever taste and feel like this?
“Hey! What’re you pussies still doin’ in the locker room? Huh? Sprints! Now!”
That was Coach Marshall, or Coach Hardass as he was known. When he bellowed from his office, the team jumped to their feet and hurried to throw their practice uniform on. For most of them, that meant those little half-shirts and dingy workout shorts.
“Relax yo’ old fart-factory, Coach Hardass…”
Rob watched them change, and aside from getting to kiss Tuck on his hair-dappled asscheeks — “kiss ‘em for good luck, okay, man?” — before he pulled his shorts up and headed out to the field, Rob wasn’t able to do more than watch them put clothes on. Watching men take clothes off was fun. Watching them put clothes on was less enjoyable.
He had only paid to have his way with them in the locker room, not out on the field. So Rob needed to stay in the lockers. He didn’t mind that too much. It was a nice break from the action, and he got to explore the masculine-scents and sweat stains of the clothing and equipment that filled the locker room.
Partway through the practice, as Rob wandered around sniffing jocks, he heard heavy footsteps and labored breathing. He jumped into the large cart near the door, wherein the players tossed their shared jockstraps and underclothes. Wifebeaters, t-shirts, boxer shorts and underwear abounded.
The smell was intoxicating, almost enough to distract Rob from the argument in the locker room. Coach Marshall had brought Jimmy in, dragging him by the earlobe.
“Coach! I told them to practice and I told them to do what you-“
“Shut your dumb mouth, Spokes!” Coach Marshall barked.
Jimmy yelped then, and Rob had to peek over the top of the hamper to see why. Coach Marshall had gotten Jimmy’s attention by gripping his crotch — his big, meaty hands held Jimmy’s jock-pouch in his palm, squeezing just hard enough that Jimmy held his breath, stood on his toes and flexed all his muscles at once. His blond hair trembled.
“Coach…”
“You want me to squeeze, boy!”
“No!”
“Then show some goddamn leadership! I tol’ you this job ain’t just ‘bout tellin’ ‘em what to do and handin’ out orange slices durin’ practice,” Coach Marshall said. “You gotta influence yo’ teammates, make ‘em do what they supposed to. Get ‘em to make good decisions instead of actin’ like ingrates.”
“Coach, I told them to!”
“And then they went out and got drunk and got balls-deep in some slut and you hung out and you double-teamed that slut along with ‘em, right? Lemme guess, Tuck was in her pussy cuz he’s a hillbilly and you was in her ass cuz you’re the team captain. And your balls slapped against Tuck’s and yer ballsweat mixed with his and your balls got all snuggly next to his-“
“Why are you so into balls, Coach?”
“Shut up!” He must have squeezed, because Jimmy gasped and straightened his back. Coach Marshall used his other hand to pull down Jimmy’s shorts. He slapped him on the ass — not in a kindly coach-like way or even in a mean pimp-like way, instead, he really slapped hard, like he wanted to slap the asscheek right off Jimmy. That made Jimmy buckle and cry out, and he nearly fell over but Coach Marshall kept ahold of his cock and balls with his other hand. Coach Marshall growled. “Only bein’ team captain ain’t about gettin’ the asshole when you double-penetrate a slut. That ain’t leadership, Spokes. That’s anal sex.”
“I know, Coach. That ain’t even what happened, you know-“
“So this weekend, you get Tuck to run like I told him to. If that seems difficult, just remember, I got you to agree to train Tuck, and all I had to do was squeeze your balls a bit. That ain’t hard. Tuck got balls you can squeeze too,” Coach Marshall said. He let go of Jimmy’s sac then, and wiped his hand off on Jimmy’s face.
“Yes, Coach,” Jimmy said with a shudder.
“Good. Now bring ‘em in for a break,” Coach Marshall said. “The lacrosse team needs the field for an hour.”
“Yes, Coach.”
They both went back out onto the field. Rob stayed there, buried in jockstraps until he heard footsteps heading towards the locker room. He could hear the lacrosse team as well, but they were in the visitor’s locker room next door.
“I am gonna fill that bitch up till cum be drippin’ down my balls, man!”
“She gonna suck me off too?”
“Fuck yeah, boys!”
“Tuck! You’re on the bottom for a team tackle!” Jimmy barked. His voice was tense and clipped, angry, or at least trying to get his teammates to think he was genuinely angry. “You should have done your runs last weekend.”
“Jimmy, come on! You were there! You can’t get mad at me about it now!”
“I told you to go running! I told you to do that, Tuck!” Jimmy frowned. He frowned, an expression aimed inward as much as at Tuck. He didn’t enjoy being the person who enforced the rules. He glanced over at Rob, who smiled. Jimmy nodded at him. “The little dude can tackle first.” He paused. He lowered his voice and spoke to Rob. “If you don’t mind getting tackled by some big fuckers.”
Rob wanted that more than anything. He ran across the linoleum-tiled floor of the locker room, while the whole team chanted and clapped, all except Tuck, who frowned at Jimmy.
“Tackle him! Tackle him! Tackle him!”
“Tackle-grope!”
Rob jumped onto Tuck’s chest, clutching his torso with his arms and legs. Tuck’s body was slick with sweat, and Rob had to struggle as he started to slide down the moment he connected with Tuck’s bulging muscles. He stuck his tongue out, so as he dragged down Tuck’s body, he got to lick his chest muscles.
Then Tuck sighed, groaned and climbed down to the floor as though he had been tackled — since he outweighed Rob by nearly two hundred pounds, that was the only way Rob could get him on the ground.
“Hell yeah, brought down by a li’l guy, huh, Tuck?”
“Shoulda gone runnin’, man…”
“Stick yo’ fist in his ass! Fist that hillbilly, man! What’s the dude’s name? Rob! Fist him, Rob!”
But before Rob could do anything but lick up all the sweat that had collected between Tuck’s shoulderblades, he oomphed as another football player landed on his back — it was Lake, that six-packed black halfback who didn’t quite jump (thankfully, since Rob’s delicate body would have been shattered) onto the pile, but he did flop rather awkwardly onto Rob’s back.
“Locker room tackle!”
Beneath Rob, Tuck groaned. He squirmed as Rob’s rock-hard cock rubbed against the small of his back, where a pool of sweat had developed. Rob was still clothed, but he wore just a pair of shorts and underwear, and his erection rubbed against the moist muscle of Tuck’s back.
“You got your fist in ‘im yet?” Lake asked with a laugh. He reached his big head down and kissed Tuck on the back of the head, prompting another wiggle from Tuck.
“More tackle!” Jimmy shouted.
“I can take it!” Tuck shouted. “Bring it on!” His voice was strained like he didn’t want to let on how difficult it was to breathe right now.
It wasn’t Jimmy who joined the tackle next, it was someone else — Rob couldn’t see who — and soon there were maybe four players atop Rob, who couldn’t really breathe. He could just barely sputter and take a gasping half-breath.
He didn’t mind though. His cock spasmed and leaked precum, which joined with the sweat in the small of Tuck’s back. “Hurry up and cum if you gonna,” Tuck said weakly.
And then Rob was distracted by Lake’s massive dick — it was still in his shorts, but he had either taken off the jockstrap (which seemed unlikely since somebody would have said something if they saw that) or his dick had popped out of it. Rob could feel Lake’s dick rub against Rob’s asscheeks, then slip into the crack.
Rob groaned. There was a shift in weight above him. He couldn’t see or hear, but it sounded like someone had gotten up, possibly replaced by someone else. Thick fingers even explored Rob’s crotch, apparently in search of Tuck’s ass.
“Gonna finger you, Tuck! But you’s already gettin’ it up the ass from the little guy, ain’t ya?”
“Hey, he is still alive, right? He ain’t crushed to death?”
“Say somethin’ sissy! Lemme hear you lisp!”
“I’m alive…” Rob said weakly. “I’m fine…” For some reason speaking sent a wave of pleasure through Rob, who realized he was going to cum like this whether he wanted to or not. That didn’t need to be too humiliating, since he had a feeling Lake was going to cum also.
“Ah, shit, Lake’s doin’ it, ain’t he?”
“I can’t help it, man, this nigga got balls!” Lake said. His booming voice echoed and resonated in Rob’s lungs, since Lake was pressed down on Rob’s back. It was clear that Lake tried to sound tough and nonplussed by the hundreds of pounds of muscle on his back, like he was dry humping because he wanted to and not because he was so young and horny he couldn’t resist.
Lake’s dark muscles writhed. His hips flexed the best he could, since he was in the middle of the tackle. He moaned, the sound making the hairs on the back of Rob’s neck stand up. The other guys in the tackle — who were all above Lake — laughed like this was a prank they were playing.
“Cum in Tuck’s ass, Lake! Teach him a lesson!”
If Tuck knew what was happening, he didn’t let on. He wiggled beneath Rob. Lake’s dick was right on Rob’s ass. The other team kept implying Lake could ram Tuck, but he couldn’t even if he wanted to and was able to move, because Rob was in the way. Rob couldn’t penetrate Tuck’s ass either, because he wasn’t positioned right on his asscrack and he couldn’t move with all the football players weighing him down.
In the end, Lake even came right before Rob, and it was the feeling of his hot, cum-soaked shorts dripping onto Rob’s back that sent Rob over the edge. The smell of cum filled the air. Rob spasmed and would have squirmed, but the only part of his body that could move at all were his fingers, which dug into the meat of Tuck’s body. Rob filled his own shorts with jizz, and some of it escaped the fabric, smearing up and down Tuck’s asscrack. Some of it must have gone into his butthole too, and still more trickled down between his legs to puddle up on the locker room floor.
“Ew, gross, he doin’ it!”
“He just want a big tip from the dude.”
“He gonna get the tip. Just the tip.”
Lake groaned. “Shut the fuck up!” His voice was weak now, having used all his energy to shout before and then cum into the messy tackle. He struggled to breathe under the weight of his own teammates.
Had anyone even realized that Rob himself had cum? He didn’t really think so. No one mentioned it. Tuck didn’t react as though a guy had dry-humped his ass until his cummy shorts left a layer of sperm on Tuck’s plump cheeks.
One by one, the football players climbed off the tackle pile. When Lake stood, his shorts were soaked. He pumped his biceps and his pecs, beaming at the assembled jocks. He swayed his hips, making that massive cock flop back and forth in his goopy shorts.
“Ew, nasty, man, you just dry-humped a man!”
“Why do you always cum in a locker room tackle?”
“Man, fuck you!” Lake said. “I cum whenever I want, man.” He grabbed his soaked cock through his shorts, so his shaft was outlined by the fabric. He reached into his shorts, stroked his dick one time so his hand was covered in cum, then tried to touch one of his teammates on the face.
“Get away from me, man!”
“C’m’ere, ain’t you wanna feel me, dawg? C’mon!” Lake cackled. He was so focused on that — Rob was positive Lake had cum despite his best efforts not to and was trying to cover it up with bluster and bullying his teammates — that Lake barely noticed Rob drop to his knees.
He had already cum, so when Rob pulled his shorts down and kissed his dick, Lake was startled and jumped. He grinned at the sensations arising from his sensitive shaft. Rob licked his dick from tip to root, lapping up every drop of cum he could access.
“Holy hell, the white dude really loves my cock.”
Lake writhed like it hurt. His massive dick was big even though it was limp, and Rob could feel how sensitive it was. He kept stroking it, even as Lake winced and shut his eyes. His muscles all flexed. He sat down on the bench as though he had planned to, but it was clear in the way his dick throbbed that he found this too exquisitely sensitive to remain standing while Rob lapped at his dick.
“Hey, you gonna jerk us all off, man?”
“Yeah… I mean… I got a girl, I don’t need it.”
“Me too. I get plenty of girls. But, y’know… If you wanted to…”
“He is payin’ money. We want him to get his money’s worth.”
Rob stood and held up his hand for silence. He felt good and exulted in their quietude and attention — he rarely felt like the center of attention around men like them.
“I’m not going to jerk you off,” Rob said. “But if you want to turn my throat into your pussy-” He laid on the back on the edge of the bench, so his head was angled over the corner. That put his face just below a low-hanging pair of sweaty balls — he couldn’t even tell whose because the jocks were crammed in so close together. He lifted his mouth up and suckled on them for just a second, prompting a chorus of nervous giggles. “I would be open to that. Why don’t I just lay here with my mouth open? You all can put whatever body part you want in there.”
It was Tuck who went first, like he wanted to reclaim his masculinity after the locker room tackle and being dry-humped. He stretched his muscles, smiled cockily and flopped his limp dick onto Rob’s face.
“Holy shit, I ain’t know he was gonna do that.”
“Is this a bukkake thing?”
“Bukkake the little dude!”
“You really into sweat?” Tuck asked. “Cuz I think I’m covered in all these motherfuckers’ sweat. Here…” He got down on his knees and lifted up his right arm. The overwhelmingly potent scent of his armpit assaulted Rob’s senses. He sniffed it loudly, and planted his face right there in the crook of his arm. Tuck guffawed as though he hadn’t expected Rob to actually do it.
As sweat coated Rob’s tongue and he gurgled, he lazily flopped his own dick between his fingers. He had already cum, but he had a feeling he would do it again if these football players all decided to bukkake him.
And then the hair of Tuck’s armpit was replaced by his fat cock. It slipped into his mouth, already hard, bulging, precum flowing over Rob’s tongue. He gurgled.
“Damn, this is nasty!”
“Paint his face white!”
“I got the cock you need, man,” said Jimmy, who clapped his hands and yelled at the others to shut up. Once he had silence, he dropped his jockstrap and placed it right on Rob’s nose, so Tuck’s balls slapped on it each time he humped his dick into Rob’s throat. Jimmy stood there, resplendent like a Greek god, his blond hair sweaty and matted to his head. He had a huge cock which he jutted forward to be sure everyone could see. “And this sissy made me promise to ram him in the ass. He said he needed the biggest cock on the team, or else there’d be no deal and none of us would’ve made a hundred bucks today…” He sighed dramatically.
None of that was true, but Rob didn’t intend to correct him. His mouth was full, for one thing, and he desperately wanted to get it up the ass. Jimmy hung his head as though being forced to do this as he straddled the bench and had Rob lift his legs up.
“You can do it, Jimmy!
“Takin’ one for the team, huh?”
“Bullshit, man, you guys see this, right? He wants to do it. Don’t make it seem like he’s sacrificin’ nothin’. He’s gettin’ booty. That ain’t a fuckin’ gift to us.”
“You wanna ram him, man?”
“No, I got girls beggin’ me to fuck ‘em. Mad pussy, yo! I’m just sayin’, anyone on this team would be doing it if that’s what the little dude wanted. It ain’t a big deal. We already all did it.”
That argument continued, but Rob was distracted. Two things happened at once, both of which were so huge and even difficult that Rob struggled to follow what was happening. First, Jimmy slid his dick in — it was clear he had a lot less experience with this than he had let on, he just forced it in and if Rob didn’t love being cornholed, it would have hurt a great deal — and he began humping Rob wildly. He showed off for his teammates by using all of his muscles when he stuck his dick into Rob. Secondly, Tuck groaned and came. That happened so suddenly that Rob didn’t even realize it wasn’t precum until Tuck was finishing up.
His load coated Rob’s tongue and the back of his mouth. It trickled down his throat. The intensely salty flavor assaulted Rob’s senses, mixing with the potent sweat that still filled his mouth.
“Fuck yeah! Gonna fill ya up, huh? You getting your money’s worth, ain’t ya?!” Tuck pumped his biceps as he rubbed his cock and balls over Rob’s face. “You sure you like this? It’s so fuckin’ nasty.”
Before Tuck could pull away, another player, George, had taken his place. His long, thick cock was already hard, and he must have been jacking off because he was already throbbing, his orgasm gathering like an approaching thunderstorm. Rob could feel it in his dick’s spasms in Rob’s throat.
He didn’t seem to notice that Rob had spat up most of Tuck’s cum. It flowed over the new cock in his mouth — that was a fullback named Will. Will had been the most popular football jock in his high school and had been annoyed that here at GHU, he was just another athlete, not even a first-stringer. He bragged about getting girls just like the other athletes, but he had only had sex with one girl since coming to college, and she wasn’t even very hot.
As Will sprayed his wad over Rob’s face, Rob sensed another player approaching him, the kicker Étienne. He was a Haitian immigrant, his upper body wiry, his lower half thick like a much larger man, and his trunk-like thigh muscles positively glowed because of the palm butter he rubbed into his skin every day. He masturbated into his own hand, looking at the naked pictures of girls in his locker. He sprayed his load into the palm of his hand.
He had planned on wiping all that cum off on Rob’s face, but when he was ready, his dark brown palm covered in goopy white cum, he didn’t want to touch him there. So he held his hand in front of Rob’s face — Rob was in between cocks at the time, Will having finished and two guys jousted near his face before Etienne pushed in front of them — and tipped his palm down. His cum stuck to his skin, but Rob raised his tongue and sucked it all off. He wanted to grab Etienne’s fingers and suck them each, maybe even play with that long, uncut cock. But he sensed that Etienne would have been uncomfortable with that.
“Don’t be squeamish, hoss! It’s just a little cum on yer balls!”
“Yeah, when we gangbanged that fat bitch, ain’t you get some cum on your dick then?
“Real men don’t care ‘bout that shit!”
Etienne was the only person who refused to participate. As those two players finished up in Rob’s mouth, jousting and denying how uncomfortable they were with it, Rob started stroking off whatever cocks he could grab.
Soon cum dripped in clumps off his face, and there was a puddle on the floor beneath his head. Rob was overwhelmed by pleasure as Jimmy’s cock began to tickle his prostate — Jimmy was so inexperienced at this that it took this long for him to get the hang of it.
Jimmy had been swearing to his teammates all year that he would fuck any female who gave up the ass. He said he refused to accept any girlfriend that didn’t let him in the ass. That means they’re not really on the pill, guys, that means they’re trying to trap you. He said he got every girl he dated to give up the booty, but Rob knew that wasn’t true. He shouldn’t have expected it to be true, since Jimmy had a massive cock — there were few women of any age or level of sluttitude who would be willing to take that it in the ass.
Rob’s ass was, in fact, only the second ass that Jimmy had ever penetrated, and he was the first whom Jimmy successfully fucked in the ass. His previous girlfriend had made him stop with less than a third of his dick inside her, and then she had frustrated him by refusing to let him in her pussy or mouth either because his dick smelled like ass. Jimmy had been so frustrated he beat up a couple of nerds on the way back to his dorm, then had angrily jacked himself off to Internet porn.
A Polynesian wide receiver named Poahi was the next to really ram Rob’s face. He alone had no compunctions about this whatsoever — on his home island in Samoa, there was a football coach who frequently jerked his players off. That was an expected, normal part of life for rugby jocks in Samoa. Poahi had been surprised to learn that didn’t happen in America.
So he alone made love to Rob’s face. The others didn’t want to touch Rob any more than necessary, but Poahi didn’t care. His planted his uncut cock in Rob’s throat, letting his balls drag over Rob’s nose and make a mess of the soup of loads he had taken on his face so far. Poahi smeared around the jizz with his fingers.
“Gonna paint yo’ balls white, Poahi!”
Someone shot their load right on Poahi’s balls. Most of the cum dripped down onto Rob’s face and forehead, and the entire team erupted in nervous laughter. The salty creaminess of whoever’s cum made Rob moan around the shaft of Polynesian meat throbbing in his throat.
“Let’s bukkake his sac!”
They had started off this day thinking that Rob would just lick their biceps and jack off in the hamper as he sniffed their jockstraps. Then they had accepted a little more contact, and a little more, and then they had agreed to bukkake him.
“I’m gonna nut on his ear, man, let’s drown that little guy!”
But now the remaining players were trying to make this as gross as possible, just to see if they could — none of them wanted to be the squeamish one who backed out. Poahi remained dick-deep in Rob’s throat, his heavy body leaning forward so there was plenty of room for the other players to cum on his massive ballsack.
All Rob could see was that scrotum, and all he could smell was football sweat. Poahi had always preferred American football to rugby, and he had been overjoyed to be accepted by an American university. He could have played professional rugby, but the Samoan team was barely paid anything. He hoped to make it into the NFL, and he really didn’t see why the other players reacted like it was weird for him to allow them all to cum on his balls.
“His throat feels like a nice, smooth pussy,” Poahi said, shrugging at this teammates, who were shocked at how little disgust he had with the situation.
Finally there were maybe fifteen loads on Poahi’s scrotum. It felt like another whole layer of flesh, like the cum that stuck to his hairy skin was palpably heavy. He pulled his dick out and plopped his balls in Rob’s mouth before Rob could even take a deep breath.
That was it for both Poahi and Jimmy, who reached orgasm as his cock tickled Rob’s prostate. Rob tasted an explosion of cum like he had never experienced before, as fifteen loads landed on his tongue at once, and a sixteenth erupted on his face at the same time from one of the backup tight ends who had been waiting for his turn.
Poahi moaned and felt up his massive pecs, while his low-hanging balls overflowed from Jimmy’s mouth. Poahi had always loved it when women handled his sensitive sac, and he groaned. His nipples were hard beneath his fingers. Rob tried to jack him off as he sucked on Poahi’s balls, but it was difficult because Poahi was simply huge — at more than seven feet tall and four hundred pounds, he was so wide that Jimmy could barely reach around his waist to stroke his dick.
He was also distracted by Jimmy, who groaned as he shot his load inside Rob’s ass. Jimmy’s handsome face tensed up, and his muscles flexed — he was momentarily self-conscious as the team cheered him on, and he felt tiny in comparison to Poahi.
“Ram his ass, Jimmy! Destroy it! Show him who’s boss!”
Poahi exclaimed in Samoan. Cum spurted out of Poahi uncut cock and coated Rob’s fingers, spraying over Rob’s chest, as his balls rose up in his sac in Rob’s mouth. Poahi shifted awkwardly, moaning. Since Rob had trouble reaching his dick, it was an uncomfortably intense orgasm, Poahi struggling and squirming, dragging his cum-soaked ballsack over Rob’s face.
Meanwhile hot cum flowed into his ass. Jimmy grunted and clapped. He made sure to pull his dick out all the way so everyone could see how big it was — it was even bigger than Poahi’s, which Jimmy was proud of and he wanted everyone to know it since he had a feeling most of them just assumed that a beefy giant like Poahi must have a beefy giant cock.
Intense pleasure shuddered through Jimmy’s body. He shot a gigantic load that filled up Rob’s tight ass. Jimmy kept plowing back and forth and laughed as he did, and his teammates slapped him on the ass. Jimmy tried to pretend his orgasm wasn’t as intense as it really was because he didn’t want to seem inexperienced.
“Naasty…”
“This locker room is gross. Smells like a fuckin’ brothel. Smells like that fat chicks sorority house.”
“Hell yeah! We should go over there later.”
At last it was over. Most of the players had already wandered off to the showers. Practice wasn’t over, but they were sweaty, covered in each other’s sweat, and most of them had at least one person’s cum dripping from their body. So while the lacrosse team was still on the field, they went in for a quick shower.
“How was that, man?” Jimmy asked as the other players filed out.
“Amazing,” Rob said. His voice was weak and wavery. It was almost four o’clock. That was as far as he had paid for, so it was about time for him to leave.
“You done?”
“Yeah,” Rob said. “Is it okay if I just lay here for a bit? I’m not sure I can get up right now.”
Jimmy snickered. “Oh? Did I ram you too good?”
“You did it just right,” Rob said with a giggle. “But yes. Besides, maybe somebody will want some one on one attention when they’re done showering.”

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.”

The Dallas Alpha

When Rob meets a mysterious biker, he never thought he’d wind up exploring every inch of the man’s studly body. But at the legendary bar Lipsweet, anything is possible, and the redneck ex-con Cooter is willing to give Rob a swing on his most studly of meats!

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Read the whole thing right here

The bar was less crowded than it usually was, although Rob didn’t normally go on a Thursday night, so he couldn’t say for sure. He noticed a few regulars — Francis playing pool with Deshawn and Tiny, Suzette in her tied-up flannel shirt and cut-off denim shorts, Tall Bear with a few beers already lined up in front of him on the bar. Rob nodded a greeting to a few folks he knew as he passed by, making his way to the bar and sitting a few stools down from Tall Bear, whom he gave a half-hearted wave to.
Tall Bear wore a Cowboys jersey, as Lipsweet was a football bar, and in Dallas, that meant the Cowboys. TVs mounted on the walls blared a highlights show running through clips from previous games. Rob ignored it. He wasn’t a football guy. Most of the other patrons too, but for the opposite reason — they ignored the clips show because they’d watched the games. They already knew the highlights.
But there was no actual game to watch at three o’clock in the afternoon on a Tuesday.
Rob nodded again to some acquaintances and ordered a beer from Teddy. He made small talk with Tall Bear and a few other imbibers he knew, sipping on his beer, until the loud sound of a gravelly motor growing louder quieted the din of conversation.
Around here, a motorcycle meant bikers, which meant the Jagged Right, which meant trouble.
The bar practically held its breath. Rob turned around in time to see the door open, revealing a tall, solid man in a black tee-shirt, leather jacket, and tight, fitted denim pants. His boots thumped solid and heavy against the concrete floor as he walked up to the bar and sat down right next to Rob. He was middle-aged but powerfully built, with a spring in his step like a much younger man. His wild beard like a gold prospector made him look like a vicious Amish or maybe a redneck Muslim.
A new murmur of conversation sprang up, people craning their necks to get a better view of the interloper. Rob watched the man out of the corner of his eye. He was tanned and had a strong jaw, dark brown hair, darker brown eyes. He sat with a confidence that was inherently alluring, and Rob shifted uncomfortably in his seat, turning his attention back to his beer. The man’s biceps flexed within the confines of his t-shirt, almost bursting the seams, and Rob couldn’t think of anything else but what those muscles would feel like wrapped around his body.
Conversation resumed when it became apparent this was not a robbery, a fistfight, a naked woman or the arrival of a football player, which were the only things that could interrupt drinking at Lipsweet. Rob resumed drinking his beer.
After a few minutes, though, Rob sensed someone’s eyes on him and turned to see that interloper looking at him, a knowing smirk on his face. “How ya doin’?” he asked. His accent was thick with redneckery, but with a Western twang to it, the sound of a native longhorn. Rob was from out east, but here in Texas, most folks jawed like that stranger storming in like a silent tornado.
Rob fought the impulse to check behind him for another person, knowing that the man could only be addressing him. “Doin’ alright. Yourself?”
“Pretty good,” the man answered. He let his eyes trail slowly over Rob, blatantly checking him out, and smiled. “Name’s Cooter.” He held out a large, callussed hand, and Rob shook it. His heart was pounding, as the man’s alpha male demeanor and his well-muscled solidity gave Rob a frisson of excitement. Rob did appreciate the male form.
“Rob. You new around here?” In this tiny town, everybody knew everybody, so Rob was the only one who didn’t know that Cooter was from elsewhere. He was not one of Dallas’s Jagged Right.
That was a motorcycle gang in these parts and most other parts as well. The Jagged Right was strongly regional though. If Cooter wasn’t from the local club, he couldn’t try anything in Dallas, or the local club would come after him. In any case, Cooter looked more likely to drive an unlicensed dirtbike on a public road than to do any serious crime.
“Nah, not really. Just tryin’ a change of pace for a night. Hey, let’s have another drink,” Cooter said. He let his hand trail down Rob’s arm after he signaled for the bartender.
Rob gulped, determined not to show how eager he was. “Yeah, sounds great.” Cooter’s muscles thrummed and flexed beneath his black leather jacket.
The bartender — Teddy — brought over two beers, passing one to Rob and the other to Cooter, watching them with suspicion and interest until Cooter glared hard enough for Teddy to turn around. Rob took a sip of his beer, trying to ignore the way Cooter watched his mouth wrap around the lip of the bottle.
He tried to ignore it, but he failed, and he sensed that Cooter wanted the same thing Rob wanted. Cooter was a biker, on the road, needing a little release, and Rob was willing to release whatever Cooter had pent up.
Goddamn do I love a biker! Rob thought to himself.
“So, you come here often?” Rob asked, wanting to hit himself as soon as it was out of his mouth. It sounded like some cheesy pick-up line from a bad movie, and he was sorry to have said it without thinking about it.
Cooter laughed, ignoring Rob’s question. His shoulders clenched and flexed as he let out a dry, dusty chuckle. He licked his teeth and looked Rob up and down. He glanced around the bar too, maybe checking out if there was a woman he could go away with. But he was an out-of-towner and not a football player or even a football enthusiast, it seemed, so none of the women here seemed likely to give him the time of day. Actual football players did come here — the Titans, a local semi-pro team haunted Lipsweet — so the jock-chasing women of Lipsweet were likely going to wait for them.
Nobody told Cooter that, but nobody needed to. Cooter is nobody’s fool.
“I got a bike outside,” Cooter said with a casual sneer. He looked down his nose at Rob, not in a haughty way, just in a way that recognized that Cooter was an alpha and Rob was a passive sissy. Well, maybe not quite a sissy, but a passivo nonetheless. “Wanna see it?”
“Yeah, sure,” Rob agreed.
Cooter reached into his back pocket and pulled out his leather wallet, throwing a few bills onto the bar, more than enough for both his and Rob’s drinks. Cooter downed the remainder of his beer in one gulp, then did the same to Rob’s beer. With one smooth motion, Cooter refilled his beer from the tap behind the bar — Teddy was engrossed in a conversation with Tall Bear — and shot Rob a confiding glance. Then he headed for the door.
Without even an explicit invitation, Rob sensed that he was to follow, so he followed. The thrum of expectant conversation continued behind him. Cooter opened the door to the parking lot, which Rob thought was held open for him — what a gallant gentleman! — but then Cooter pushed in front of him and went out first. Rob wondered if that was deliberate, if Cooter wanted to signal that Rob was no woman and would not be treated like one.
That was true, of course, Rob was no woman, but he did like to be treated like one by big alphas like Cooter.
Rob followed Cooter out into the lot, receiving curious and disapproving stares from the other people in the bar as he went.
The bike was parked sideways across what could have been two spots in the gravel parking lot, and looked thrillingly, strikingly out-of-place among the pickups and rusted jeeps surrounding it. Rob had never seen a motorcycle up close like that before, he didn’t know any bikers or even any casual riders. His own family — the Winthrops — were the kind of classy Southern upper-class twats who looked down on bikers. Not Rob though. As long as they were alphas with muscles and grizzle and scruff and big fat cocks, he appreciated them, and he sensed Cooter made the grade in every way.
Gravel crunched under his feet. Rob took a couple steps closer, admiring the spotless black frame and, upon further inspection, the tribal sun painted on the black in red and gold, the symbol for the Jagged Right biker gang. It was painted into the motorcycle. That symbol sent a rush of excitement through him, adrenaline pounding through his veins — Cooter was a real biker. The Jagged Right don’t play, they were the ones who robbed that bank last week. Rob saw that on the news.
He felt Cooter step behind him, pressed close to his back. Cooter leaned down to speak in Rob’s ear. The heat from his bearish chest burned, and Rob squirmed with desire. He felt the firmity of Cooter’s muscles just centimeters from his back, and then, tantalizingly enough, Cooter came even closer. His breath condensed on Rob’s nape, and his chest pressed against Rob’s back.
“Wanna go for a ride?” Cooter asked, in that deep drawl- and twang-dripping voice.
It sent a shudder up Rob’s spine. “Yeah,” Rob nodded, trying to keep his voice steady. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
Cooter smiled a cruel and predatory grin, then offered Rob a spare helmet. Rob put it on. his heart thumped. Dad would hate it if he knew Rob was going to ride on a motorcycle, with some stranger, a stranger in a gang!
In front of Rob, Cooter straddled the bike like it was made for him, the denim of his pants straining across his ass and thighs. Rob hesitantly copied the position, his chest pressed flush against Cooter’s back and his thighs pressed against Cooter’s. Cooter revved the engine once as a warning before he kicked off, flying down the dirt road with Rob twining his arms around Cooter’s torso. Rob couldn’t believe his luck in being allowed — nay, forced, by circumstances — to fondle the great barrel chest and greasemonkey muscles of this mysterious man’s body.
Once he was no longer entranced by Cooter’s words and his presence, Rob did feel a surge of worry — his father would say this was a grave risk. Cooter could be robbing him. This could be a kidnapping.
Maybe Cooter was gonna ransom him. That thought was somehow alluring too. Rob giggled, and Cooter bristled like he sensed that despite the roar and rush of the Texas landscape whooshing by.
The wind stung Rob’s cheeks, and a few times he had to clutch desperately onto Cooter so he didn’t fall off as they went over a bump too quickly . The ride was exhilarating: the vibrations, the warmth of Cooter’s body, the mystery inherent in the dusky night air, the looks they got from people on their porches as they whipped past in a cloud of diesel and dust — all of it churned together into a current of lust with eddies of warm, burning need, and by the time Cooter pulled up to a trailer home and cut the engine, Rob was embarrassingly hard in his jeans. From the look Cooter gave him, he must have known it, too. He probably felt Rob’s cock pressing through both pairs of jeans into Cooter’s sweaty asscrack.
But he didn’t complain, even when Rob had to rearrange his manhood in his pants as he dismounted from the motorcycle. Rob still felt the thrum of the engine rocking through his body.
They were in Smashwood Trailer Park, which was on the outskirts of Amarillo. Rob had passed it by many times. It had a reputation in Amarillo as a trashy spot, with shanties and abandoned trailers in the back where hobos lived. Rob had been told to never go there to buy drugs, as he would be surely robbed. This wasn’t a drug deal, and Rob didn’t want any drugs, but still, the warning rang out in his memory.
“Do ya wanna come in?” Cooter asked. He stepped away from the bike and put his helmet on the seat. The warm firmness of his muscular arm brushed against Rob’s own thinner arm, but he felt it and barely managed to bite back a groan.
Rob greatly appreciates a man with muscles, and Cooter was powerfully built, strong as a bear. Rob had to fight back the urge to worship his muscles here and now.
Having asked Rob to come in, Cooter headed straight for the door to the trailer as though Rob’s answer was assumed. “Yeah, yes, that’d be great,” he rushed to answer, his voice pitchy and breathless. He was too horny to care about playing it cool. Rob hurried behind Cooter, and they both passed a bench press in the grass, weights scattered around it and reeking of mansweat so strong Rob could smell it without going near.
Cooter led him up the flimsy steps at the door of his trailer and pressed open the door, and this time he gestured for Rob to go first. He did, taking in the unmade bed; the couch piled with papers and wrappers; television set; the table with a gun, polish, and a cleaning kit; a counter with a six-pack of beer on it. A Confederate flag was mounted on the wall.
“Sorry, ain’t have a chance to clean up earlier, and I don’t got much furniture,” Cooter said, “But you can sit on the bed if you want.” Indeed, there were no chairs in the trailer.
Rob just smiled and moved to the bed, shucking his canvas jacket onto the couch as he went. He tried to avoid staring at the pile of dirty, sweat-stained t-shirts and boxers shorts on the floor by his feet. When he turned and sat on the bed, Cooter was right there in front of him.
“You beautiful, you know that? Pretty like a girl…” Cooter said as he ran his hands through Rob’s hair, down his body, making Rob tense and shiver. His fingers were callused and firm, gripping like a vise. “I wanna know how those lips would feel on my meat, I been thinking about that from the minute I saw you back at the bar. I sensed them lips would feel soft as silk on a man’s pecker. Wanna know how my lips feel? I sure as sugah you gonna like ’em. I sawn how you was lookin’ at me, and I felt yo’ dick gettin’ hard on my bike.”
Rob nodded, eagerly licking his lips, which made Cooter smile while he unbuckled his belt. Rob’s eyes lit up, his heart racing — that started the moment he saw Cooter back in the bar, in Lipsweet, back when Rob thought tonight would be boring and fruitless. Now he was ready to have a night of his dreams with a man of his fantasies.
A groan was already escaping from Cooter’s mouth, as Rob reached forward and unzipped Cooter’s jeans. He tugged them down until they were around his ankles, leaving behind a pair of black boxers that showed the clear outline of Cooter’s hard dick. They were plain white boxers, starchy like linen — possibly prison drawers, Rob thought. He didn’t have the presence of mind to ask though, as Rob was overwhelmed by the rush of passion.
The scent of Cooter’s unwashed crotch sent Rob reeling, his mouth watering. Cooter put his hand on the back of Rob’s head, encouraging him to get on with it, but Rob took his time — he liks to tease.
Holding back his flirtatious giggle, Rob touched the bulge in Cooter’s boxes. The merest of touches made Cooter moan again with desire. Rob palmed Cooter through the soft fabric of his underwear until Cooter leaned his head back, his mouth open and chest panting, pressing his crotch forward. Then, at last, Rob leaned forward and released Cooter’s dick from the fabric of his underwear, pushing it down to join the jeans bunched up at his ankles.
“Yeah, come on, don’t be a tease,” Cooter groaned. “That’s what I don’t like about females. That, and child support.” His cock jabbed in the air like a javelin waiting to be thrown, and it throbbed like it was already on the verge of cumming. He must have gotten hard on the rumbling motorcycle just like Rob did, Rob thought but didn’t say.
Pumping his hips like to fuck an invisible pussy in front of Rob’s face, Cooter’s cock rammed around his head. It touched his cheek, his nose, his ear, and Rob chased it with his mouth as though unable to catch it. He stuck his tongue out, and Cooter finally got a direct hit, square on his mouth and his waiting tongue.
“Awwww, damn…” Cooter’s whole body shook, as the flavor of unwashed musk and potent manhood flooded Rob’s senses.
Rob took Cooter’s dick in his hand and stroked up and down the length of it a few times, making Cooter hiss through his teeth at the contact. The smell of sweat zest and black leather astringency assaulted Rob’s nostrils, making his rod iron-hard in the prison of his own pants. Cooter’s hands tightened in Rob’s hair, gripping his scalp, and Rob let himself be guided forward, until his lips were against the head of Cooter’s cock and he was spreading them open, taking Cooter into his mouth. He licked up the underside of Cooter’s dick slowly, teasing, letting his teeth graze just slightly.
“Shit, Rob, oh my fuck….” Cooter moaned. “Shit, if you was my cellmate, I’d make you my prison…”
That was exactly what Rob was just thinking — he’d serviced plenty of alpha males, and he suspected Cooter was an ex-con. Maybe only recently released. You could tell in how he demanded, no, craved a physical touch and seemed averse to actual womanhood. He needed a man to service him because he had lost his capacity for tenderness, and for Rob, that was ideal.
There was nothing better than getting pounded by a man who could treat you no other way.
Rob pulled off again, licking his way down the shaft and to Cooter’s balls, where he licked, nipped and jerked, until Cooter was groaning and pulling Rob’s face back to his dick, using one hand to hold Rob still and the other hand to guide his manhood back into Rob’s mouth.
Spit now ran up and down the shaft, which gleamed and throbbed like a beast in Rob’s grip. It was huge, more than a foot long, long enough for Rob to get both hands on it. He gripped the root tightly with one hand, stroked the shaft with the other and sucked mightily on the knob like a stubborn straw.
His tongue teased the piss-slit, which now let out a stream of salty precum. Rob sucked down every drop he could get, and he savored the intensely salty flavor of it. It was creamy and warm, and it tasted musty, like you could sense the cooped-up manhood of Cooter’s prison stay in his prejizz.
Rob kept his mouth open and loose, letting Cooter hold Rob’s head between his hands and force his dick into Rob’s throat. When Cooter tightened his grip, Rob hollowed out his cheeks, taking in as much of Cooter’s length as possible until Cooter was shooting hot and thick ropes of down Rob’s throat.
More and more flowed into him. Rob had rarely swallowed such a massive load, but Cooter had his cock deep down that throat, and Rob could easily gulp down every drop. Cooter’s balls lay against Rob’s chin, and they drew up as they spewed their seed down Rob’s gullet.
“Hmmm-hmmmm, you got a helluva throat, hoss,” Cooter said, his voice shaking and breaking like a hormonal teenager. His knees even went weak. He very gently fucked Rob’s throat through the last of his orgasm, which made his final cumwad fill Rob’s mouth.
It overflowed past his lips, and Cooter’s muscles rippled as he coated Rob’s mug in his cream and spit. A moan escaped from Rob’s mouth, followed by a flood of jizz that Cooter’s continued humping turned into a frothy mess. It coated Rob’s face from his scalp to his neck, and the cottony smell of Cooter’s orgasm filled Rob’s nostrils.
“So good, that was so good,” Cooter said, still breathless and shaky. His cock dangled between his legs.
He pulled up his underwear and jeans, tucking himself away again without even wiping his dick off. Then he pushed Rob onto the mattress, laying on his back, and Rob was still so overcome by the sunny taste of Cooter’s jizz that he din’t react.
Cooter did nothing with Rob’s flannel shirt, but he roughly pulled down Rob’s jeans and boxers, exposing his red, swollen cock and pale, toned thighs. Cooter let out a long low rumble of desire, as his rough hands kneaded the soft flesh of Rob’s torso.
“I don’t jerk men off,” Cooter said in a thrummy growl. “But I know it’s wrong not to finish a man off after he gets a nut out. I learned that in prison, yessirree. You gotsta recip-ro-cate.” His hand touched Rob’s cock, which was ready to bust its own nut at any moment.
It sounded like he didn’t quite know what reciprocate meant, but Rob was in no mood to educate him.
Without preamble, Cooter took Rob into his hand and started jerking him off, steady and relentless. Most likely Rob would have cum in literally moments, as he was on the verge already, but Cooter’s hands were rough and callused and kind of painful, but in a good way, and it made Rob writhe and bash his head against the pillow under him.
His cock throbbing like a heart, Rob wanted to cry out for more. He fisted his hands in the sheets beneath him, biting his lip to keep from screaming out. He should have done so, of course, as this trailer was separated from the others in the trailer park, but Rob was used to hiding his passions.
When it felt too good to resist, Rob tried to shift himself around, fucking his dick up into Cooter’s hand, but Cooter held Rob’s hips down with his free hand, leaving Rob totally reliant on the rough, twisting motions of Cooter’s grip. It wasn’t long before Rob was spilling over Cooter’s hands, a scream tearing from his throat despite himself. A hot wad of sticky cum spewed out of his massive cockhead.
His own hands kneading the muscles of Cooter’s chest, Rob shot a massive wad onto his belly and over Cooter’s fingertips. Cooter kept stroking the whole time, not missing a single beat, as Rob endured the most intense orgasm of his lifetime.
“A screamer?” Cooter said, standing up to wipe his hands off on a towel. “I like that.” He walked over to the couch where Rob had dropped his jacket and tossed it to Rob, who was barely cognizant enough to catch it. Rob was still shaking through the aftershocks of his orgasm. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride back.”
Rob, after a shaky minute, managed to get himself back into his pants and put on his jacket. The denim felt too rough and the canvas was itchy against his now-sensitive skin. Cooter was already outside by his bike when Rob came down the steps. The ride back wasn’t as awkward as Rob had been expecting, and he grew sleepy in his post-orgasmic stupor. When they stopped at the bar, Rob hopped off the back of the bike and handed Cooter the helmet.
“Do you come to this bar often, Rob?” Cooter asked as Rob started to walk to the door to Lipsweet..
“Yeah,” Rob answered, smiling, his heart ready to pound out of his chest. “I sure do.”