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 soon 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.”