The Bodybuilding Coach Bottoms

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

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Read the whole thing here

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

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 Vor

Mefody is a champion gymnast who gets to enjoy a most unusual reward. It’s seven minutes in heaven with a massively muscular brute, a vor with the Bratva who want to congratulate Mefody on his victory!

Can Mefody get the most out of his Russian mafia alpha male gift?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Mefody refused all media requests in the immediate aftermath of his gold medal win at the Olympics. He wanted to bask in his own glory, and to ponder his success on behalf of Mother Russia and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. He had won the world championship in gymnastics. A lot of people would say it didn’t really count — the United States and sixty-four other countries boycotted this year’s games, but Mefody didn’t feel any less victorious. He was still the world champion in men’s gymnastics, and no one could take that away from him.
The only people he called were his parents. Mefody had his own phone in his room at the hotel in Moscow, so he could call them directly and in private. They had paid for his career as a gymnast, and they had supported him the whole way, so he felt he needed to tell them thanks. He thought he’d know what to say, but in the end, he just cried into the phone.
When tournament officials started knocking on his door, Mefody sent them away. They pushed though and kept returning until Mefody had no choice but to speak to them. They insisted he give interviews to the world press in which he extolled the virtues of the USSR and the communist regime. That took all evening and promised to consume the next couple days as well.
But it was in the “fine print”, as the yankees do say. Mefody spoke English well. That was another reason they wanted him doing interviews. He spoke to the press from fifteen countries, mostly the socialist paradises around the globe: Cuba, North Korea, Yugoslavia, Czechoslovakia, etc. Then he also met with Americans, British, Japanese, French and even the Indian press.
There came a knock in the early night, when the last round of the day’s competitions were finishing up — Mefody watched the women’s gymnastics on the closed-circuit TV. This knock was different than all the knocks Mefody had heard earlier. It was not the uncertain, hesitant knock of a man who hoped Mefody would answer. It was the commanding knock of a man who was used to being obeyed. It was not a request to open the door, it was a statement that he was here and the door, therefore, was to be opened.
Mefody opened the door. The man standing in the threshold was short, broad-shouldered and terrifically ugly. He had a nasty scar across his face, which looked to have been craggy and harsh even before the scar. His nose was crooked, his upper lip askew, multiple teeth missing.
But he wore a fine suit like an Italian, Mefody thought, it was perfectly tailored and it looked expensive. He was flanked by a trio of men in similar suits. These were tall muscle-bound meatheads, and they were handsome, unlike the ugly man who appeared to be their boss. Their muscles rippled beneath their suits as they glowered at Mefody.
These men, Mefody strongly suspected, were vory.
That meant they were thugs in one of the clans of the Russian mafia, the Sons of Vasilisa, if rumors could be believed. They controlled this tournament — they had built the venue; they had sourced the athletes; they claimed the actual competition was fair, and no one had asked Mefody to cheat, but Mefody assumed it was not as fair as it appeared. The Russian mafia — or Bratva, meaning brotherhood — would not have put on a tournament like this if they weren’t going to fix the results and make money off the gambling.
A flash of fear hit him as Mefody wondered if he was supposed to throw the match and didn’t. Maybe there was a miscommunication, and the vory thought he was told to lose even though he wasn’t. Maybe they’d think he was being disobedient. Or maybe, he thought hopefully, they had forced the other gymnasts to lose deliberately — maybe Mefody was the chosen winner. They’d have no reason to tell him, and if he had known, it might have even made him perform worse because there was no pressure.
“Mefody Bragin? Congratulations on your victory,” the ugly man said. His voice was gravelly and rough, like a heavy smoker. He was the same height as Mefody, but he seemed short in comparison to the tall goons standing behind him.
“Thank you, sir,” Mefody said, too nervous to think of anything else to say. “Glory belongs to the socialist revolution. I have won this honor for the workers of the Soviet state-“
“Yes, indeed. I have come to offer you a gift, from my clan to you, in recognition of your success. You have brought pride to our entire country,” the man said. He spoke like he didn’t often talk in this manner: articulate, non-threatening, prepared. His muscles twitched beneath his suit. “You will come with me to a hotel that I manage. It is nearby, and it is full of… entertainment you are sure to enjoy. We have a stable of girls for you to choose from. You may have an entire night with any one of them. What kind of girls do you like?”
“Oh, uh… thanks, but, uh… I’m not… I would rather not spend the night with any girls,” Mefody said. He blushed. If he wasn’t so scared of the vory, he would have come up with a better excuse.
The man flared his nostrils, and he looked Mefody up and down. “You are… not interested in girls.”
“No,” Mefody said.
The man turned around and looked at his three bodyguards, who stared straight ahead. Their square jaws and tightly-pursed lips betrayed no hint of emotion. The man cleared his throat. “You like these lunkheads?”
“Uh…”
“Just pick one. I can’t give you the whole night with him, we have further business to attend to this evening. You may have one of them for just a few minutes. Let’s say seven. You can have seven minutes in heaven with any one of them.”
“Him.” Mefody said it without a second thought. The tallest one, with a deeply dimpled face, high cheekbones, a good Russian boy, Mefody thought, though the man was well out of boyhood. He was far more than six feet tall, so big that Mefody couldn’t even hazard a guess, but he was probably closer to seven feet than six feet. He was built like a barrel-chested bear complete with a dense mat of black fur on his chest — Mefody couldn’t see it beneath his suit, but he could sense it in the way the fabric shifted over his broad chest as he walked into the room.
“He is Ivan,” the man said. “Ivan, you do whatever he wants for seven minutes. We will not tease you for it afterwards, I swear. It will not count. This you do for Mother Russia, and we will think no less of you for it.” He shut the door and called out, “I’ll give you one minute to take your clothes off, then start the seven minute timer.”
“Ah, damn, this is happening so fast,” Mefody said as he quickly stripped. He blushed intensely. Ivan did not seem unwilling, but he was clearly not thrilled that Mefody had chosen him. Mefody whispered, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“I want to show you I appreciate the honor you have brought to our country,” Ivan said. His deep voice resonated in the small room. “I wish to please you, comrade.” He sighed as he stripped off his shirt, revealing that thick hairy chest towering above Mefody’s thin, hairless body.
Mefody couldn’t resist plowing his face between Ivan’s massive pectoral muscles and sucking on the thick nest of hairs there. Ivan’s entire upper body rippled, and for the first time, serious emotion flickered on his face — a mixture of awkward embarrassment and intense arousal, with a souciant of shock like he hadn’t known where this was going. He smiled, but only for a moment before he wiped the grin away and resumed his stony-faced stare.
Your seven minutes starts now, comrade!
A surge of adrenaline made Mefody hurry into action. He undid Ivan’s belt, letting his pants fall to the ground and then pulled down his underwear to reveal a fat cock that dangled between his legs. It was charmingly limp, and it smelled sweetly of manhood, like engine grease and tractors and concrete. Mefody wanted desperately to swallow it, but he saw no reason to do that — if he was going to be feted as a champion, he might as well push his luck and see where Ivan’s personal boundaries were. He would not likely have a similar opportunity ever again.
“Get on your knees, Ivan.” Mefody said. He tried not to sound weak and girlish, but he didn’t think he was successful. That was simply the way Mefody was. He was tiny in comparison to the Russian giant, whose broad body exuded heat like a beast. He smelled so intense of masculinity that Mefody could already feel an orgasm brewing within.
That was good, because he had only seven minutes to finish.
Ivan’s nostrils flared as he sunk to the ground. Mefody grabbed his dick, which was a foot long and thick as a bottle of vodka. It throbbed in his grasp, limp, but with a powerful beat that sent a frisson up Mefody’s spine. He gave Ivan’s fat meat a squeeze as he suckled on each nipple, which made Ivan’s powerful pectoral muscles ripple. His chest was hairy, dappled with both old sweat from the day’s work and a few beads of anxiety as he no doubt wondered what Mefody was going to do to him.
That dickshaft was firming up in his hand, despite Ivan’s bristling discomfort. His face remained stoic though, even when Mefody kissed him. Mefody had never felt such a thick cock, like holding onto an extra limb, he thought. His tongue danced along Ivan’s supple pectoral muscles, then tweaked his nipples until they became erect. Either Ivan was ticklish or so nervous his muscles flexed when Mefody touched his tattooed chest.
He still remained silent though. Mefody kissed him again, and he plunged his tongue into Ivan’s mouth. He kissed him like that, like a French girl, and Ivan showed no reaction. His own tongue remained still. Mefody kissed him for what felt like hours but undoubtedly wasn’t, and by the time he pulled off Mefody’s cock had spewed out a load precum that coated Ivan’s muscular chest.
“Hmmm… Thanks,” Mefody said. Ivan stone-faced. Mefody cleared his throat.
It seemed Ivan picked up on what Mefody was about to ask for, because he stooped over before Mefody could tell him to do so. He lowered his head and swallowed Mefody’s dick in one smooth motion.
He got almost the entire cock down his throat before he let out a loud grunt, and a big ball of spit choked down Mefody’s shaft. He gagged, his whole chest writhing as he uncomfortably swallowed Mefody’s cock to the root. Mefody grunted too, with a more ladylike demeanor, as pleasure overwhelmed him. His dick spasmed and nearly came right then and there.
But Mefody held back his orgasm, so as not to cum too early. He closed his eyes and sucked in his breath. His cock lay at rest in Ivan’s throat. Mefody didn’t move to avoid triggering a cum, as waves of pleasure made his toes curl and his breathing grow jagged.
After his initial reluctance faded, Ivan started slurping like an experienced bottom, Mefody thought with a grin. He wondered if he had ever done it before. It sure seemed like he must have.
Probably in prison. All kinds of things happened in Russian prisons, or so Mefody had heard.
Mefody gripped Ivan’s head to guide his rhythm up and down on Mefody’s shaft, which made Mefody marvel at the man’s size — his head felt like a giant’s beneath Mefody’s dainty grasp, and his shoulders were so broad that Mefody’s arms couldn’t reach the breadth of them.
Precum dripped down Ivan’s throat, in a trickle at first. The vor’s eyes watered, either from the taste or from lack of oxygen or both, maybe shame, but whatever it was, it didn’t slow him down any. He nestled his nose deep in Mefody’s pubic hair, his own nostrils flaring again as he forced himself to deep-throat. Mefody kept his hand on Ivan’s head, but he didn’t force his dick down that massive gullet. He couldn’t have even if he wanted to; he simply enjoyed caressing the man’s body, from his head to his toes, and his head was the only part Mefody could easily reach right now.
But as this went on, Mefody did stretch down and rub Ivan’s shoulders, which were so broad and thickly muscled that it was like a concrete slab made of writhing snakes. His skin was tattooed with strange symbols, which Mefody knew all signified something in his Bratva clan, the Sons of Vasilisa. Mefody, of course, didn’t know and didn’t ask what they meant.
Some things it was better not to know.
“Oh god, Ivan, yeah, swallow it…” Mefody didn’t usually do dirty-talk, but he couldn’t help it today. The room seemed to be getting smaller he thought, or Ivan was bigger. He was bent over with his giant ass in the air so his head could reach Mefody’s crotch, and the entire room seemed to be filled with his throbbing, fur-covered Mother Russia-loving muscles.
Five minutes left!
“Okay, I’m going in that ass, alright?” Mefody said, breathless, wanting to pull his cock out of Ivan’s mouth to avoid cumming but unwilling to actually do so. He writhed. It felt too good to stop.
“Glory to the Soviet Union!” Ivan said when he suddenly pulled off of his own volition. He cried out as though reminding himself why he was doing this. When Mefody’s cock popped out of his mouth, it left a trail of spit and precum over Ivan’s craggy face.
He sniffled and wiped his face off. Then Ivan dropped down to all fours, and he stuck his smooth pale ass high. He had a pair of firmly muscled asscheeks atop trunkish thighs, and he had to bend his knees to get his ass low enough for Mefody to mount him from behind. Mefody’s dainty fingers massaged the meaty muscle of Ivan’s torso.
His dick was already nicely lubed with fluids, so Mefody went straight in. He just rubbed the hairy hole of Ivan’s ass for a few seconds, then pried the tip of his cock into that tight opening. Mefody’s heart raced as he wondered what would happen if he didn’t cum in time — would Ivan just leave and blueball him? Mefody didn’t intend to find out.
Ivan threw his head back and let out a wordless howl, glancing towards the door — it was clear he didn’t want his comrades outside the room to realize what he was doing in here. He bit his lip and lowered his head. “Glory to Mother Russia and the Soviet Union. Long live the Communist Party!” he said again, this time with a pained waver to his voice.
With their vast disparity in size, the positioning was rather awkward. Ivan ended up laying on his belly on the ground, his massive arms outstretched — on all fours, Mefody would have had to climb atop his body to get into his ass. He was willing to do that, but it seemed Ivan preferred to lay on his velly.
Ivan buried his face in his own meaty forearm as Mefody worked his dick in bit by bit. His asshole was so tight it gripped at Mefody’s meat, sending waves of intense pleasure through Mefody’s tiny body. It felt like every single scrap of muscle on Ivan’s entire frame clenched down on Mefody’s dick.
The sensation was so overwhelming that Mefody didn’t even notice when he finally got his entire cock into Ivan’s ass. He had to use both hands to stretch open those broad, fleshy cheeks, which were slick with smooth hairs — there was so much tight and toned flesh that Mefody just about got lost in it, like his entire body was going to fall into Ivan.
But instead he just pistoned his hips, driving his dick into Ivan’s ass as his face nestled in the rippling muscles of his back. He licked and teased the flesh there, grunting with every thrust of his cock into Ivan’s sensitive ass. His hands kneaded the muscle of Ivan’s shoulders, which Mefody had to stretch above his head to reach.
“Ah, damn…” Ivan said, wincing. As he went on though, his grunts of pain turned, slowly but surely, into grinding groans of bliss. “Ooooooh!” Ivan’s voice reached a special crescendo.
Eventually, Mefody knew he had reached that special secret spot inside each man’s ass, the spot whose every touch caused an unimaginable sensation in his mind. Sure enough, as Mefody’s cock danced along that sensitive spot, Ivan’s entire body twisted and writhed. Sweat covered his muscles and precum dripped out of his own cock, smearing over the ground which he instinctively humped.
Finally Ivan could stand it no longer. He stood — Mefody thought he was going to shake like a wet dog and throw Mefody off, but he didn’t — he lifted Mefody with his back and bent over the table, sticking his ass in the air and his head down on the surface.
“Oh shit, quit moving!” Mefody exclaimed. He held on to the meaty muscle of Ivan’s back, riding him as he got into a more comfortable position bent over the table.
But Ivan was simply much too tall for Mefody to ram him in any normal way like this. It didn’t slow Mefody down any — he just held onto Ivan’s back and humped his hips up and down. It was somewhat awkward but that didn’t make it feel any less incredible in Mefody’s body. It might have actually made the sensation even more intense, and it certainly prolonged Mefody’s orgasm.
He wanted to reach around Ivan and stroke him as he plowed, but Mefody couldn’t do that without letting go and falling to the ground, and he didn’t think he could reach Ivan’s cock from here anyway. Ivan just jacked himself off instead. He let out a blood-curdling moan, which he bit back to avoid making too much noise. Mefody could feel it in the rumble of his chest as much as in the sound coming from his throat.
He must have been near orgasm from the moment he touched his cock, because Ivan busted his nut just a minute or so later. The smell of cum filled the air as Ivan covered his hand with his creamy seed. A fat long jet of it arced across the room, accompanied by another slow rumbling moan of pleasure from Ivan’s lungs.
He groaned and grunted, this time so loud it made the other bodyguards in the hallway snicker, which in turn caused Ivan to blush. Mefody would have laughed as well but he was in the throes of his own climax.
His orgasm exploded within him as Ivan’s asshole clenched from his own aftershocks, Ivan now panting and mewling quietly to himself. Mefody moaned like he had never moaned before, and the feeling was so uncontrollable that Mefody gnawed weakly on Ivan’s strapping back muscles. He spasmed like an epileptic atop Ivan’s body.
Cum flowed into Ivan’s ass, a great creamy load that spread and seeped into every nook and cranny of his body. It was hot and thick, dripping, flowing from his cock. Ivan was a big man, but somehow Mefody thought he shot enough to fill him up.
It was a bigger load than Mefody had ever shot before. Maybe that was from the eroticism of the situation or maybe it was his swelling pride at winning the championship, but Mefody came for eons, it felt like, pouring pump after creamy pump of cum up Ivan’s now frothy guts. With each thrust of Mefody’s hips, his cock slammed in to the root and ejected another burst of jizz, while turning the previous fluids into a cummy soup that ran from the small of Ivan’s back to his taint and even around to his balls on the other side.
At last it was all over. Mefody sighed as he slid down, his cock audibly plopping out. A great big ball of cum came with it, dripping into Ivan’s dense mat of black leg hair. Some of it made it all the way to the ground where it landed and spread into a puddle, soon joined by a smattering of droplets making their way out of Ivan’s great ass.
Thirty seconds left!
Mefody was shocked he had any time left, but he didn’t want to waste it. He darted around to the front of Ivan’s body, where his limp dick dangled, cum dripping beneath it. Mefody dived right in and licked it from tip to root.
It must have been exquisitely sensitive because Ivan squealed like a piggie. He collapsed, his weakened body landing on his ass on the ground. He spread his legs wide to give Mefody easy access to his cock. He gripped Mefody’s head and held it in place, as he pumped his sensitive post-nut cock all the way down Mefody’s throat.
Mefody suckled and guzzled it down, snarfing every drop of cum he could find. Then he moved down from the shaft to Ivan’s low-hanging balls. Mefody sucked the sweat there, savoring the spicy flavor of fresh sweat.
Another knock on the door. Okay, time is up. You can stop, Ivan. Put your clothes on.
A blush spread over Ivan’s face. He paused and smiled at Mefody, then the smile turned into a stony frown. He stood and hurriedly grabbed for his clothes. He raced to get dresset against the insistent knocking and tapping of his feet of his boss, the ugly man — Anatoly Troganovich — who waited outside the room with Ivan’s two compatriots.
Ivan winced when he stretched his legs, and he rubbed his sore ass.
But in seconds he had his pants on and he breathed a sigh of relief. The door opened moments later. The suited man and the two remaining bodyguards looked on with baited breath, as though they had no idea what they might see. They were visibly relieved that both Mefody and Ivan were clothed — Ivan’s massive, bearlike chest was still bare, but there was no signs of sex. Ivan’s ass must still be soaking wet. It might be visible through his pants. Hopefully that underwear would soak it up.
It must have smelled like cum in the room though, Mefody thought as he saw all three of them wrinkle their noses.
“Congratulations again on your victory,” the suited man, Anatoly Troganovich, said. He held out his hand to shake Mefody’s, then withdrew it. “Sorry,” he said with a blush — it looked like he was a man who rarely blushed and wasn’t sure how to deal with it. “I’d rather not shake your hand. I do not know what kind of fluids are on it.” He cleared his throat and laughed a low grumbling laugh. “Well… I do know what kind of fluids are on it.”
Mefody shrugged and put his hands on his hips. “Okay. Thank you, sir. I am glad to have brought glory to Mother Russia.” He smiled flirtatiously at Ivan, who sighed and avoided making eye contact. He buttoned his shirt up quickly.
After peeping a subtle wink from Ivan, Mefody closed the door, and the last thing he heard was the suited man with the ugly face say, “I meant what I said: no making fun of Ivan for this. If either of you ever bring it up, I’ll make you do the same thing again. You’ll keep that gymnast so satisfied he never goes out again!”
“Yes, sir,” they all said.