Date: Wed, 14 Dec 2005 10:03:52 -0800 (PST)
From: Mark Wild <markwild082@yahoo.com>
Subject: Boys in Control, pt. 9
Disclaimer: If you are not yet 18 years of age or if it is illegal to
read materials of this kind where you live, then please stop now. This
story contains descriptions of sexual activity between teenage boys and
is for adult eyes only. The acts are consensual and are a result of
their
love or lust for one another. This story is completely fiction, and all
descriptions and names are also made up. Any similarities are purely
coincidental.
I would love to hear from you, so negative as well as positive feedback
is always welcome. Please write: markwild082@yahoo.com
A note to the readers of Boys in Control:
This one has taken me longer than usual, but I'm afraid life intervened.
I guess I can't say much except that I hope you really like it! Thank
you to all the guys who wrote hoping I wasn't dead, haha. Happy
Holidays, everybody, and I'll see you all next year!
Mark W.
This is for Conner, as usual, and the first part , especially, for Chaz.
Boys in Control, pt. 9
Training Day
Bart Corvino hopped off the bus, landed and looked around. Two girls
waved "Baaaaart!" but he just rolled his eyes and kept on going. The
morning was cool, which flushed his cheeks, and sunny, which lit up the
oaks and the poplars. He looked around and dodged some kids who were
fuckin' around with their gameboys; he cut on back to the playground to
see if Matt was hanging or what. Jules and Rock Dog (whose name was
Nelson) were cuttin' and doing whirlies, Larry was watching and jerking
his head to the song that was in his headphones.
"Hey you guys!" he chirpped up brightly, dropping his pack to the
ground. Jules high-fived him and Doggie grunted and Larry flashed him a
peace sign. "What up bro?" "What up what up?" "Any you guys seen
Matt?" Jules dismounted, flipping his board up and catching the
roughened tip. He grinned at Doggie and wiggled his tongue between a
couple fingers. Doggie grinned back and slapped his friend like he was
impertinent. Bart just looked like they'd both gone crazy and Larry's
head kept jerking. "You oughta take a quicker bus, bro. He's off with
Slinky Whoreland." This was their current term of affection
for Matthew's latest interest. "I think he walked her to class, BC."
"Dude! He was touching her butt!" Bart looked intently at his pals and
hated the little bitch. "Really?" he said and Larry bobbed his head in
confirmation.
"Really, bro. We were hanging out until her bus pulled in. Then it
was like we were friggin' Klingons. He even carried her books!" Rock
Dog turned and ran his hands down over his baggy ass, twitching his hips
like he was jailbait adjusting her little skirt. Jules winked broadly
and started making little jerk-off motions, and Doggie flinched and fell
back like his bud had squirted him square in the eye. "Damn," Bart said,
and Jules held his fingers up to sniff 'em, and that made Dog go
"Ewww..." and they grinned and both doubled over with laughter. "Okay,
okay," the wrestler said, "I get the picture, you guys." He rolled his
eyes and hitched his pack up and turned to walk away. "Hey!" Jules said.
"What?" "Where you going?" "Dude, I gotta pee. I drank some cranberry
juice at breakfast and it always goes right through me." "Cranberry
juice?" Rock Dog looked harsh, but Bart was still backing away. "Yeah,
bro. It's a dago thing. Cranberry juice and meatballs." Doggie
accidentally flipped his bud his middle finger and Jules threw his
taped-up skateboard down and started rocking on it. "Catch you guys in
homeroom, k?" and Larry grinned and nodded.
The previous night when he got home Bart quickly took a shower, and
even his mom could hardly believe his appetite at supper. "What'd you DO
all afternoon?" One thing she was, was nosy. "We watched TV and played
some games and talked with his brother and wrestled!" His brother looked
up from his peas and carrots and said, "It isn't even season." "Whaddya
know about it, ya moron? We wrestle to keep ourselves sharp!" "That's
right," his dad said, messing Bart's hair. "Sports is a full-time job.
That is"---he waved his fork for emphasis--"if you're really serious
about it." "Well..." his mom said, "I just wish... you'd get some
different friends. I know Matt's been through a lot---for a boy his age,
but... I don't know..." "Mom, you know he's my bestest friend---" "Best
friend," his brother corrected. "WhatEVER, butt-head," Bart shot back.
"He's the best dude on our team." "That's right, honey," his dad
agreed. "You should come to a meet sometimes. Sometimes a kid like Matt
who's had to overcome some hardship... that just gives 'em a focus and
edge they wouldn't otherwise have. Not too many kids his age have got
the drive that he's got." He looked at his son significantly and passed
the mashed potatoes.
"Look, I know it was a terrible blow, him losing his mother like
that... But sad or not, sometimes I think he's just a little too
wild..." "Wild? Ha!" his brother cut in. "You should see his brother!
Half the school---including the seniors---think he's an S.O.B."
"What. And the other half are female?" His dad laughed at his own
joke. "Ben, dear, please try to watch your language," and the male
Corvinos groaned. "Well, wild or not I'd rather Bart had friends that
are into sports, than running around with a bunch of kids that drink and
smoke and lie." "Yeah, mom," Bart said, mouth full of porkchop, "Ben's
just jealous, is all." "I am NOT, you little twerp," and Bart stuck his
tongue back at him.
"And beSIDES, Ben, just so you know, Parker's a very cool dude." Ben
dodged a pea that Bart flicked cleanly right across the table. "Bart!"
his mother yelled, upset, and his dad tried to look disapproving.
"Sorry, mom," young Barto said, "but Ben's just bein' a jerk." "I am
NOT, you little loser---" "Alright, alright, enough." His dad knew he
needed to jump in now or face his wife for it later. "No throwing food
at the table, young man. And Ben, watch your mouth, okay?" His sons
both shrugged and their dad continued. "And as for the Nicholls boys...
you both oughta think how YOU would feel if YOUR mom died of cancer..."
The word hung ugly over the table, taking the wind from their sails,
and even their mother was quiet a minute, fussing with her salad. "Their
dad's a good man, but it's gotta be tough, raising two boys alone. And
as for being wild, well... even in THIS house, it's not like YOU two are
angels..." "Amen to that," their mother said, breaking the ice a little,
and that made Ben make the sign of the cross, and that made young Bart
giggle. "All things considered I think that Matt and his brother are
doing okay. There's worse things in life than for kids to be channeling
their energy into sports." "Better than some dumb debating team," Bart
said. "I SAID, that's ENOUGH. Just because you and your brother have
different... kinds of interests... DOESN'T mean it's okay to go around
making fun of each other..." "Okay, dad." "Okay, okay," Bart grudgingly
agreed. "Just so they stay out of trouble is all," his mother threw in
vaguely...
Now as he entered the school and ran up the stairs on the left-hand
side, he remembered how after supper he'd lain in bed and drifted off,
feeling Matt's weight on top of his chest, and his pits and the bulge of
his boner...
"...Aw, come on, just one little kiss. What's so wrong about that?"
Matt leaned back against the lockers and tried to pull Cindy closer.
She, however, was making him pay: he hadn't called ALL WEEKEND.
Besides, some girls that she knew were nearby, and she knew how they
loved to tattle. "NOTHING'S wrong," she flipped her hair, "I just don't
think you're serious." "SERIOUS? Aw, come on, I told ya---I was busy as
hell all weekend! Plus, you know, I think my dad listens in when I'm on
the phone. And Parker'd laugh if he heard me say... I think you're
really sweet..." He looked so cute when he said "as hell" that Cindy
could almost forgive him. But then her flirtatious habits kicked in.
"Sweeter than Kelli Simmons?" Matthew swallowed. "Kelli SIMMONS?" "I
heard you kissed her Thursday night outside of Pizza Hut."
Matt had to think fast. "She made me do it. She had my Dr Pepper!"
"Very funny, Matthew Nicholls..." "Besides, THAT metal-mouth?"
Cindy knew that she'd hate herself later but giggled nonetheless, and
Matt took advantage and grabbed her hand and pulled her a little closer.
She heard some "ooooh"s and knew that Kelli would hate her in cafeteria,
and tilted her head so Matt wouldn't see the pimple on her chin. She
looked in his bright green eyes and saw the pout his lips were making;
she heard some shrieks when Matt took his arm and slid it around her
waist. He looked up over her shoulder with just the right touch of
disdain, and pleaded one more time for a kiss---to help him get through
algebra... Her hand went up and slowly rested on his muscled chest, and
only because he adjusted her locket... his forearm touched her breast.
They heard the bell go off which warned them ten minutes left till class,
and the next thing she knew he had lifted her chin and---
"Hey Matt! What's going on?"
She jumped, then Matt jumped, then her girlfriends fussed and started
laughing. Cindy nearly died and quickly pulled her hand away. "Holy
crap, Bart! Can't you see I'm spending some time with my GIRL?" and Matt
spoke loudly enough so she knew her girlfriends heard him too.
"Damn, I'm sorry, bro. It was just---I brought you that CD you
wanted..."
"Holy crap, dude! Can't you see I'm friggin' BUSY here?" and tried
but Cindy moved away, smoothing down her sweater.
Uh oh, Bart thought, now unsure if Matt were pissed or acting.
Certainly Cindy seemed to know their moment had been broken, turning to
her locker and pulling some books and notebooks from it. Matthew glared
at his friend and anticlimactically kissed her cheek; Cindy pushed him
away and coyly asked, "Will I see you at lunchtime?" "Sure!" Matt said.
"I mean, if my friggin' bozo friends will let me!" Cindy giggled and
flipped her hair and went to join her girlfriends.
Matt watched her tight little sexy ass then asked, "You happy,
asshole?" He winked at the girls and picked up his pack and pushed down
the hall to the boys' room. A couple boys were coming out and a group
of guys were hanging. He saw some smoke from a cigarette drift out of an
open window. Bart pushed behind him. "Jesus, Matt---I'm sorry---wait
up, okay?" The boys who were hanging shuffled and moved aside when they
saw Matt's face. He threw his pack on the floor and started combing his
hair in the mirror; Bart caught up and looked at his friend like this was
soooo unfair. "Gimme a break, huh? You told me you don't even LIKE her
all that much!" Matt put his comb down and slammed his hand on the
paper-towel dispenser.
The other boys whistled and made some comments, hoping a fight was
coming, and that made Matt turn around and tell them to mind their own
dumb friggin' business. One boy made some monkey sounds and another one
belched real loudly; Matt was halfway at 'em before they whooped and the
whole group bolted. They scattered left and right and hooted, shoving
and grabbing each other; the pneumatic brakes on the doors only gradually
muffled the sounds from the hallway. He turned around and Bart had his
backpack open, rooting through it. His brown hair curled at the nape of
his neck and suddenly Matt remembered... how Suzie Winters had said one
night... that Bart was a total dreamboat. Suzie lived down the street
from the Nicholls and had frizzy hair and freckles, and Bart had gone
"Ewwww" when Matt had told him he had a Secret Admirer.
Now those little dreamy curls were pissing Matt off bad, but Bart
turned around just a little too quickly---before Matt had time to yank
them. "And anyway Jules and Doggie said that they saw you were touching
her butt---so it's not like a major disaster you know if I messed up a
kiss or something." "Listen you little friggin' fruit..." "Hey!" "You
friggin' ... PITLICKER!" Bart jerked his head around quickly in case
there were lame-asses hanging nearby, but even the dude who was smoking
had left, and he and his friend were alone. "Watch your mouth, will
ya?" "What?" Matt gloated. "Pretending it didn't happen? Pretending I
didn't PIN your ass... and that you didn't LIKE IT?"
Bart started getting a little nervous and told Matt to keep his voice
down. "Anyway," trying to change the subject, "here's that Green Day you
wanted..." Matt stepped forward, glanced at the disc and said, "YOU'RE
the American Idiot." Bart looked over at his friend. "Fine. Whatever,
dude." He turned away and grabbed his pack and Matt spat "Fruitcake!" at
him. Bart spun around like fuck this shit and Matt slapped the disc from
his hand. The plastic case hit the floor, popped open, and the disc
inside started rolling. They watched it wobble and wheel away along the
tiled floor; it hit a post and rolled under a toilet-stall partition.
Bart's s "Jesus, Matt! What'd you have to fuckin' do that for?"
"Just shut up you little fruit," Matt hissed and shoved his buddy. Bart
staggered back and Matt went to grab him but Bart twisted deftly away.
He bent down to pick up the CD case... and that's when his friend took
advantage. He kneed Bart's hip and sent him crashing onto the tiled
floor... and then, like they weren't even best friends or teammates,
threw his weight right on him. His shoulder hit and he lost his breath
and Matt grabbed his dreamy curls, and Bart yelped more from surprise
than from hurt and tried to buck Matt off him. Lifting his weight up
Matt moved his arm under Bart's exposed hip and the floor... and just
like Parker had made him practice, quickly flipped Bart over. Their
tshirts untucked and the boys started panting and Matt scrambled onto
Bart's chest. The five-minute bell rang and outside they both heard the
shuffling of feet to their classrooms.
"Alright, Matt. Got off, okay? Whatever I did, I'm sorry!" Matt
looked down and grinned and bounced his weight on the other boy's
ribcage. "We're gonna be late for class, you doofus," and Matt said,
"Fuck that, asshole. You gotta start learning to give me some space when
I'm putting the moves on the chicks, dude!" Suddenly, even while Matt
was leaning and gloating down over his buddy, Bart looked up... and his
nostrils flared, and picked up the scent of his teammate. For just a
second his mind went blank, like current interrupted... then realized he
was saying "huh?"... 'cause whatever Matt said he had missed it.
Matt looked down like he half-believed his friend was fucking with
him, then his face broke into a grin. "I SAID, Did you see how she had
her hands... all up against my chest?" "Uh..." Bart said. "I bet you
DID. I bet that made you jealous!" "Did NOT!" "Did TOO, you little
fruit!" ..."Come on, Matt---get OFF me!" Matt leaned up and grabbed
Bart's wrists and pinned him even harder. "I bet you wished that YOU
were the one who was feeling me up and not Cindy!" Bart tried to twist
away under his buddy, but that just made Matt grab him tighter. He
laughed like he did like when he was wrestling and felt his opponent
falter. Bart, looking up, saw the vein in Matt's neck throbbing
pulse-like from his exertion. It snaked like a little pale-blue ridge
down his pink and flushed skin as he squinted.
Unlike Parker Matt's approach to things was more instinctive. He
never had to wait for the snap of a football, or work as a unit... and
knew how to whisper "You little bitch" in a rival's ear just to spook
him. Now looking down he could feel in his muscles how Bart wasn't
really struggling... like those stupid dudes from the Catholic school who
thought Jesus was wrestling with them. Plus, it was always the same with
Bart, as much as he'd swear and deny it: after a certain point there
WASN'T... that extra grunt of effort.
What there WAS, he thought, looking down, was a dude who was making
him wait. And his brown eyes and brown curls and delicate eyebrows were
all the incitement Matt needed. He heard once again in his mind Parker's
voice as he turned his damn coach into jelly, and that made his brain
flash... and half of his blood, it seemed, rush to his hardening member.
Fuck, it was good that he'd showered this morning, the way he was already
sweating. In fact, looking down as he bounced on Bart's chest, he could
see two or three little splotches... from where the sweat was soaking
through... while he taught his friend a lesson.
Bart looked up just a second too late, and---bingo!---Matt knew that
he had him, inching his crotch further up on his chest... even while he
heard Bart protesting. "Damn, Matt, get real, huh? What's gotten inta
ya? Feelin' you up!---make me barf, huh?" "I dunno, bro. Awful
suspicious---the way you were interruptin'! And then, ya know... the way
you been sniffin' my feet and... lemme remind ya? who was licking my
friggin' pits out---JUST like a little faggot?" "Fuck you!" Bart
wiggled and twisted like he was still trying to break free from his
buddy, till Matt, losing patience, let go of Bart's wrist, looked down
and just hauled off and slapped him...
Bart was stunned into total silence and Matt, reaching up, grabbed
both wrists, and pinning them down with the strength of his hand, made
the other one into a fist. Pulling his arm back he told him to shut up
or else he was gonna get clobbered, and Bart lay there sniffling, his
cheek turning red, knowing Matt Nicholls meant business. Matt pulled his
hand back, unclenched it and felt with his fingers up under his tshirt,
exposing his flat and wrestler's abs, digging up into his armpit.
Pulling them out he sniffed them briefly, then held them down under
Bart's nose. "Yeah, that's right. Get used to it, Pit-breath---you
little freakin' homo..."
Lying there and looking up into Matt's wild eyes, Bart felt something
crazy stirring, creeping up upon him. Matt still gripped his wrists and
Bart breathed in like he directed, taking in the sweet wet scent
of Matthew Nicholls' armpit. His eyes glazed over and when they cleared
his friend was grinning broadly. "Yeah that's right, dude. Sniff my
fingers. Smell my pit sweat, queer-face! Looks like Parker had you
figured out right from the start, huh?..." Once again Matt moved his
fingers underneath his tshirt, making sure he got them way up good where
he was sweating. Something in the way Matt smirked made Bart forget to
argue: on his back he lay there feeling more and more submissive...
"Yeah that's right," Matt said again, "Sniff 'em like you mean it." Bart
inhaled and flushed and... felt his pecker start to stiffen. Something
in his buddy's scent was turning him all funny, just like Matthew's
stinky feet... which should have made him gag... but didn't. "Open up,
you little bitch," the wrestler said, still grinning, leaning down and
watching as he made Bart suck his finger. Oh my god Bart blushed,
because his dick was fully hard now. Oh my god, because his stomach went
all weird and tingly.
Suddenly, without Matt's prompting, something broke inside him, and
then his tngue was licking and his dreamy mouth was sucking. "Yeah
that's right, dude, suck the sweat right off my fuckin' fingers! Looks
like you're an even bigger bitch than Cindy Moreland!" Bart moaned just
like Parker's coach had, moaned and, without thinking, licked between
Matt's fingers, tasting salt and sweat, and swallowed. What would Doggie
think, he thought, or Jules or Craig or Larry? seeing him on his back
like this, Matt Nicholls' little faggot. He gagged and that made Matt
laugh hard and ask Bart, "What's the matter? Parker says that fags like
you get OFF on shit like this!"
He pulled his fingers out with a pop and wiped them on Bart's shirt; a
little string of drool leaked out the corner of his mouth. Matt grinned
down and lifted the hem of his tshirt to dab at his forehead, and when he
did a little drop of sweat trickled into his navel. Bart couldn't help
himself: Matt's skin was tanned and soooo inviting... His breathing made
Matt's stomach rise and fall and the warm sweat glisten. He blushed
cause he knew it was true, as he lay there, what Parker had figured out,
and Matt bounced again on his chest for attention. "Yeah, you little
cunt..." He freed Bart's wrists and smirked when the young boy lay there
without struggling. "You BETTER behave, or I'm tellin' ya, bro, I might
have ta fuckin' hit ya!"
Matt reached down and squeezed his friend's cheeks till he squeezed
his mouth into an "O," and almost threatened him again---but something
crazy happened. Bart wasn't acting pissed or scared or wriggling
underneath him. Instead his eyes were fixed like glue to Matthew's lower
torso---on the delicate line of his downy trail... that palely grew down
from his navel. The room got so quiet that Matt could hear the dripping
of one of the faucets. And then, to his surprise, Bart lifted his hand
and brought it forward... like he was hypnotized and following someone
else's orders. Matt couldn't hear it but inside Bart's head he kept
hearing "cunt" over and over; he moaned and wet his finger in the little
indentation. Matt sucked his breath in: the touch of Bart's finger made
shivers go right through him, and Bart pulled his hand back and looked at
the tip that was wet with his friend's perspiration.
Matt said "Fuuuuuck"... and Bart heard "cunt"... and took Bart's hand
and moved it. He found the little "o" of his mouth and pushed the finger
in it. "Come on, bro. Yeah, suck it. Yeah. You like that extra
flavor? That's the taste of a real guy, cunt! FUCK!... we're just
gettin' STARTED!...." Bart raised his eyes then and locked them with
Matt's... who was staring down into his own; the grip of Matt's hand on
his wrist was as strong as a champion wrestling hold. Matt's look made
Bart's trusting heart start to beat faster, and bubbles fizz up in his
stomach. He pulled his friend's hand forward onto his crotch and made
Bart feel the bulge in his wranglers. "Yeah bitch, that's right....
Keep your fuckin' palm open, bitch! FUCK!!... while I screw your queer
hand!"
A beautiful evil sexy grin spread over Matt's mouth and face. He
humped his crotch into his friend's open palm... like it was a catcher's
mitt... Bart felt his buddy's hot tool all hard and boned up through
the denim. Both of them moaned, Matt from the rush of new power he
suddenly felt... Bart from the feel of his buddy's cock... all stiff and
hard beneath him. "Yeah bitch, yeah feel it, you fucker!"---Matt
laughed---"You like how my dick feels, Corvino? Yeah bitch, come
on---squeeze my dick like you mean it! Aww fuck... you're a natural,
Bart!"
Matt swelled his chest out, showing his muscles taut underneath his
tshirt; his nipples were hard, and made two little circles in the
fabric. He reached down and undid his belt with a jerk, pulled back and
unpopped his top button. He whipped down his zipper and opened his pants
and Bart saw how Matt's dick stretched his briefs out. He blushed and
his hand felt his buddy's hard cock stiff and hot in his Fruit of the
Looms. "Yeah, Bart, come on, bro---fuck!! LOOK at me, bitch!... I'm
leaking! You like that, faggot?" He laughed. "Save your breath, bro.
I KNOW you do.... Parker SAID you would!" Matt watched his eyes
flinch. "You're already HUNGRY... for all the juice I got... And that
is A-okay with me, fag! You are ABOUT to find out!!"
Bart's mouth hung open, his eyes looked at Matt's as he reached out
and felt the jock's boner. He moaned like a bitch when Matt grabbed
at his wrist, and pushed his hand away... Matt stood and straddled his
teammate and told him to go get the fuckin' CD, queer, and just for a
second... Bart tried to remember... what Matt was talking about. Then he
sat up, looked around, and slowly started to get to his feet. Matt
pushed his leg out and kicked at his friend. "Stay on the fuckin'
floor..." Bart swallowed hard and half scrambled half crawled to the
stall where the CD had rolled. Matt walked behind him cupping his crotch
and watching Bart's ass as it moved. Panting, Bart pushed at the door of
the stall, pushed in and retrieved the CD. A few specks of dirt and some
dusty pubes... clung to the shiny surface. He felt the door close and
scrambled around, and Matt was leering at him, leaning back against the
door, still cupping his throbbing hardon.
"Get over here, bitch," he ordered, and Bart slid over on his knees.
Matt grabbed his dreamy curls and pulled and humped against his face.
Bart felt the heat of Matt's teen cock burn into his face through the
cotton, and the strong jock odor of Matt's damp crotch seeped into his
brain with new meaning. Parker'd been right, of course: Bart WAS a
fag---even Matt, looking down, could see THAT, now. He thrust and the
tip of his awesome dick slid out through the flap of his briefs... and
left a shiny line of juice along Bart's puffy cheek. Bart moaned low but
Matt didn't hear him under his own "Hell yeah!" He grabbed Bart's curls
and just by jerking him made him yelp like a bitch!... and pushed with
the head of his throbbing cock... and took Bart's cherry mouth...
Bart felt his cheeks were like suddenly full... as Matt kept inserting
his dick... over his tongue and pushing his lips out, as Matt pushed it
wetly in. It caught in Bart's throat and the poor boy turned blue and
his eyes filled with tears and he gagged. He looked up and Matt had his
eyes narrowed down. "Take it, you fuckin' fag!..." Bart brought his
hands up to give himself leverage, and rested them full on Matt's
thighs. The feel of Matt's muscles... hard under his jeans... sent a
jolt of new lust racing through him; his eyes went hazy and his stomach
fell out two miles underneath him. He clawed up and grabbed at the waist
of Matt's briefs and jerked them down off of his hips: Matt's leaking
tool popped up out of his shorts... and splashed the fuck over Bart's
lips.
Without even thinking Matt grabbed at his buddy, stepped forward, and
spun them around. He laughed when Bart's head slid a little by
accident... when the back of it hit the wall... and moved quickly,
pinning the kneeling boy against the rickety door of the stall. Matt
pushed his beautiful teenaged member up against Bart's face, thrilling
with power, moving it back and forth across each cheek. "Aw yeah, fuck
yeah---sniff my dick you homo! Fuck dude, holy shit!!---Look how BIG
it's gettin!" Bart could barely hear him, the way Matt had jammed his
face into his soft sweaty pubes... and made him open his mouth and lick
at the shaft of his beautiful tool. Then Matt pulled backwards and
grabbed at his rod and proceeded to dick-slap him hard. The young
wrestler's cheeks were wet and puffy where Matt's dick leaked
across them.
Suddenly with a last "You bitch!" Matt speared Bart's open mouth,
sinking the length of his throbbing cock into his teammate's throat.
Bart's head knocked against the wall as Matt pumped his shaft in and
out... feeling the power you only get from working a faggot's mouth. "Aw
yeah, holy fuck!---so THIS is what it's like!" Matt mumbled to himself,
looking down. His chest swelled with vigor and lust as he watched
himself sweating and taking control... fucking another young jock in the
face like it was a pussy hole. "Aw fuck!" ---He thrust and watched
Bart's face turn blue, and his eyes get all big and tear over... pounding
Matt's thighs as his throat filled with cock and he couldn't breathe, and
panicked.... "Aw fuck--holy shit!! LOOK at you, Bart!... You're suckin'
my fuckin' prick NOW, huh? Do a good JOB... and maybe Parker'll... let
you suck on HIS!" Bart gagged badly as Matt thrust in and pounded Matt's
thighs like a madman; Matt pulled out and his throbbing cock was wet with
spit. They could smell it. Bart gulped for air, and one of his
hands moved down to squeeze at his crotch. He blushed cause a DUDE was
fucking his mouth... and his dick was as hard as a rock...
Matt only gave him like two little seconds, though, hardly enough for
air, before he resumed his double assault on Bart's abused mouth and
ears. "Aw yeah... fuckin' take it---aw fuck, you bitch!" He laughed.
"You fuckin' homo! Show me how MUCH of this fuckin' hard dick you can
swallow, you little queer!" Matt had his cock buried deep in Bart's
throat then, so Bart couldn't really talk back. He pounded Matt's legs
with his hands till they hurt... and Matt just continued to
laugh. After awhile the feel of Matt's muscles, though, started to
make him feel hot. "Yeah, you like that NOW, I bet! I KNEW you were a
fag!" Matt tensed---then grabbed Bart's ears and yelled, "Aww fuck!!
I'm gonna cum! Gonna fuckin' blow my load... down your friggin'
THROAT!" Bart couldn't even resist if he wanted: his face was so full
of cock, pinned like a little bitch in a stall with a tougher dude's dick
in his mouth.
Suddenly Matt yelled, "Aw fuck, holy SHIT!!" and the jolt hit him
right in his stomach. For one brief half-second his dick turned to
steel... and then just as wildly melted... He panted and yelled "Aw fuck
yeah!" as his dick went off, forced in the back of Bart's throat. Bart
felt the sticky goo wash down inside him; Matt looked and saw Bart
sucking dick. The next couple shots filled the rest of Bart's mouth...
all stuffed now with cock and jizz. Matt just kept pumping... till some
of his white juice leaked out around Bart's tired lips; some of it pooled
in his cute little dimple and some of it leaked down his chin. Matt held
Bart's head with his hands real firm, and pinned him against the stall.
He felt the boy's throat muscles flutter and felt the boy's tongue on his
spasming tool. He gasped and Bart gagged again, totally choking on all
the wet juice Matt was shooting. Matt pulled his dick out, it smeared on
Bart's face while he gasped in for big sucks of air... And he swallowed
the rest of Matt's cum like a good boy... but not good ENOUGH for Matt...
He lifted Bart's face up and scooped up the leftover cum on Bart's
chin with his thumb. "Aw yeah, bitch, there ya go. Right off the
finger, bro! Dude! You're a cocksucker now!" Matt laughed and waited
till Bart licked the last of it, then laughed again when he burped.
"Man, you are gonna be tasting my load for awhile, I fuckin' bet!" An
oval of sweat stained the front of Matt's tshirt, his forehead was wet
from exertion. His dick as he watched slowly softened and
wilted, and lewdly hung down in Bart's face. "Now go on and kiss
the friggin' head, you little homo bitch..." Bart looked up, and kissed
like Matt commanded, right on the tip; the last pearly drops of Matt's
jism glistened along his upper lip. Slowly their pulses returned back to
normal, and Bart wiped his nose with his hand. His friend's cum was
churning deep down in his stomach, he knelt on the floor like a queer.
He already knew... for the rest of his life... Matt's load would be
inside him.
Matt took a step back and zippered up. "Get up, you little bitch..."
And Bart scrambled onto his feet so fast Matt grinned and made a fist.
"Guess we know who's the jock NOW, don't we? Yeah, you fruit... you
pit-lickin', cocksuckin' queer! Fuck that priss Cindy, too! Wait'll I
tell her to suck or she's HISTORY! Ha!" He pointed and sniggered at
Bart's tented crotch, at the dick he still gripped through his jeans.
"Looks like that bitch has some STIFF competition!" He laughed at his
verbal wit. Bart dropped his dick cold at being caught out, like his
hand was in a wallet or purse... and that just made Matt go off into
hysterics, and slam his fist into the door. "Jesus!" Bart jumped.
"What'd you go and do THAT for?" Matt grinned. "Cause I'm happy, okay?
It's not every day a dude gets to find out that his best friend's a
cocksucker, eh?"
Matt got in Bart's face and poked his chest hard, to make his friggin'
point. "And trust me you bitch... I don't plan on doing without it...
any MORE!! Looks like I got me a personal cocksucker NOW, you little
whore!" He flipped up the latch on the door, grabbed the disc and pushed
out of the little stall. Bart lingered, watching him, tucking his shirt
in, his stomach all weird and unsettled. "You gonna tell Doggie?" he
finally asked. "Or Jason or anybody?" Matt picked the case up and
popped the CD in. "Not if you friggin' behave!" Matt let his hand
stroke the front of his crotch, then leered at his new little bitch.
Bart felt his knees go all funny, and blushed, cause the taste of Matt's
cum had been sweet... He walked over slowly, and Matt smiled broadly and
slapped him on either cheek. "Your ass is grass, dude, if we get
detention for being late for class!"
"You gonna tell Doggie?" he asked again. "Or Larry or anyone?" "Tell
you what, DICK-BREATH"---that Matt was a clown, for sure---"why don't you
plan on tomorrow...? hanging at my place after school... and we can TALK
ABOUT IT!" Matt grabbed his awesome bulge again, and Bart couldn't help
but look. He already knew that he'd have to sneak off to the restroom
this morning to jerk...
Matt left the boys' room and Bart grabbed his backpack and followed
the wrestler to class. They'd already said the dumb Pledge of Allegiance
when Bart and he came through the door. "MISTER Corvino! MISTER
Nicholls! How nice of you to attend!" Old lady Grady could suck his
dick, too, but he said, "Bart got sick in the bathroom!" Someone groaned
"Ewww..." and Miss Grady thought, well... he DID look a little pale...
and asked the boy if he thought he needed a pass to visit the nurse.
"Thanks. Not right now, I don't think," Bart said, slipping into his
seat. Doggie shook his head and sent a spitball sailing at him. "Musta
been the dago meatballs!" and Bart just glared back at him. Matt looked
around like he'd just wrestled upward a weight class above him and won.
Now that it turned out his friend was a fag... there had to be other
ones...
Jim was so horny by two o'clock Monday they'd put him in jail if they
knew. This morning he'd stood by his car in the lot and watched Parker
jump down off the bus. His stomach had tingled cause Parker was wearing
the jacket he'd worn Friday night. Parker had seen him and waved and
then casually squeezed at the bulge of his crotch; Jim felt his own
cock start to stiffen, stretching Parker's jock. All through health
class and cafeteria he dreamed of that beautiful dick, of licking those
muscled legs and lapping deep in the young jock's pits. Now in his
office Jim thumbed through his playbook and cupped at his crotch with his
hand. The showers still dripped from the previous class, the air was
still warm from the steam. His stomach went warm when he looked up and
saw Parker stroll into the gym.
The jock walked up to his coach's door and stuck in his head at Jim.
"I only got a few minutes, Coach. You mind if I come in?" Jim nodded
yeah and Parker quickly turned and locked the door. He pulled the cord
and closed the blinds and Jim forgot the book... "I got a hall pass, so
it's cool... but I need my jock back, Coach. I been commando all day and
my nuts are ready for some support!" He walked to the desk and
scratched his abs and scratched his tshirt up; Jim caught a golden
glimpse of his trail and the leather flap of his belt. He moaned and
leaned forward and tried to lick the patch of Parker's skin; Parker undid
his belt and unzipped and smiled. "My jockstrap, bitch..."
Jim flushed all hot and scrambled to kick off his sneakers and lower
his pants. His cock throbbed cause Parker would see how his tough coach
had leaked in the pouch of his jock. The musky smell of their sweat
combined to turn Jim's brain to mush; he took off the strap and stood
there boned in front of the football jock. Parker lowered his pants and
looked at his coach while he fondled his cock. Jim couldn't help it: he
drooled at the sight of Parker's meaty shaft. Parker tucked it in and
squeezed. "That's all till practice!" he laughed.
He leaned against the desk and watched while Jim pulled his pants back
on. "God you must be horny, Coach! Your dick is leakin' bad!" He
reached out and squeezed out the juice from Jim's cock, so Coach wouldn't
leak when he sat, and Jim swallowed hard when he felt Parker's hand. The
jock's fingers came away wet. He lifted those fingers and asked, "You my
bitch, Coach?" and Jim felt his stomach contract. "Yeah, jock..." he
muttered... aw fuck, I'm his bitch, he thought... serving that hand with
his mouth... Parker made Jim suck each finger clean separately... then
suck a couple together. Before he left he made Jim promise he wouldn't
jack off just yet.
"And don't be a wuss today out there, Coach!" he grinned when he
stood by the door. "Prob'ly better push us DEfense pretty hard,
especially!" He winked. "You hear what I'm sayin', Coach? ...The
harder you push the wetter this strap'll be... when it comes off..." He
winked again, then left, and Jim had gazed hard at his muscular ass.
Later, in the teachers' lounge, he swore he could pick up his scent: He
sipped on a styrofoam cup of coffee while Laurel had chatted on... like
the smell of his hair and skin had lingered, after the boy had gone...
ALL the jocks knew practice started at four: that meant suited and
ready to GO. Jim strode around in some sweats and a tshirt; the late
afternoon had grown cool. "COME on ya wussies! Aw HELL yeah Juan THAT'S
the way! ----Tommy! Look left, man! He's open!!" All his boys sported
stray jerseys and sweatshirts and old shorts and stained football pants.
Jim had them grunting and stretching and squatting and humped their butts
right down the field. Parker took Tyler out twice, wiped his forehead
and still fucked with Tommy Martin. He squeezed his crotch lewdly when
Tommy threw short, and asked if his sister had missed him? The other
jocks laughed and when Tommy warmed up, and started connecting square,
Parker slapped his back and butt and praised him. "Not bad!... for a
queer!" Jim started tearing his hair out because the offensive line was
shit! He ran up a sweat till his breath came in clouds and his tshirt
was streaked at the pits... Hands on, his boys were all sweaty
themselves, now, elbows were scuffed, blood was up. Parker jogged up
once, and hung long enough so Jim got to huff up on his his sweat. He
grinned like a cat 'cause his big hairy coach... was a little bitch now
for his cock...
Even the one time that Parker fucked up and went down, he took his
lumps; he flipped 'em the finger and spat when they told him to get on
the fucking hump! Jim watched his perfect form as he ran, rolled out,
darted in, cross-blocked... every grunt and thump of his muscled legs
steam-heating his jock. The sun was so low through the goalposts it
barely lit up his boys' panting breaths, all the soaked tshirts and
jerseys and sweatshorts half clung to their calves and chests. Parker
lay flat on his back for The Talk, with the rest of the winded jocks.
Someone yelled, "Parker! Dude! What about Brees this year?" "Brees can
suck my cock."
Jim would have laughed at their bluster and bullshit, but Coach had to
set an example. He looked unimpressed and told Parker to "Chill,
killer. Not in the NFL." The boys hammed and hooted and Jim yelled
"Enough!! Get yer lazy butts UP and let's GO!!" and wouldn't slack off:
"Guys!! Are we playin' FOOTball here?... or did you just show up for
practice?" They muttered and jostled and cussed and joked rudely when
Ben ripped the seat of his shorts out. Luke said, "You lard-ass" and Ben
jumped his bones because Ben used to date Luke's new girlfriend. Jim let
them scuffle a minute or two, till their faces were streaked with dirt.
Parker stood watching them, grinning delightedly each time a punch hit
home. Jim shook his head, checked his watch and then broke in and pulled
the two boys apart. They panted and glared at each other and one of his
boys went "Eeek-eeek!" like a monkey.
Jim spun around and caught Lindsey red-handed, his fingers still
scratching his ribs. "Very funny, chimpanzee! ---And YOU, ya couple a
hotheads!" He spun back on 'em. "Wish I could get that kind of friggin'
energy on the FIELD! Jesus and Joseph! Fightin' your teammate over
a piece a TAIL? Apparently you ain't worried about the Iron Men
enough!" He spat. "It seems to me that you two... ATHLETES got your
priorities punked! Play some damn football and WIN, dammit, fellas---the
tail'll take care of itself!!" Richie sang ''pooooontangggg" and that
made Juan laugh and then Parker made kissy sounds. Jim knew the practice
was shot all to hell, now, and made the two teammates shake hands.
"Unless, of course, you Muhammad Alis wanna watch yer buds play from the
bench..." He lifted his tshirt and wiped at his forehead
and Tommy's smooth stomach went funny.
"YOU!! Baboon boy!" Lindsey jumped, and the other jocks
all laughed. "Since you looked so good on the field... just gimme two
extra laps..." Jim blew his whistle and cut them all loose and they
rag-assed it onto the track. "Parker!" he yelled. "Help me with the
equipment?" and Tommy's hopes were dashed. The sun cut low through the
tree limbs and threw long shadows across the field. The upper third of
the scoreboard shimmered bright and red and gold. Parker moved along the
field lines, grabbing balls and cones, knowing where Jim's eyes were
every time he squatted down. Luci Rodriguez had just got her license,
and pulled in to pick up her brother; she started talking to Parker and
Juan had to fend off the filthy suggestions. "Luci!" Jim yelled.
"You're looking too pretty today! You're distracting my boys!" She
laughed and walked over to wait on the bleachers till Juan hustled back
with his stuff.
Half of the boys were already dragging their whipped asses off to the
lockers, when Parker finished up, stripped off his tshirt and hit the
track. The last of the sun threw light and shadow over the curve of his
pecs, and his hair was streaked with dirt and gold, and sweat ran down
his back. His shorts were soaked, and clung like Saran Wrap over his
calves and ass; every so often his hand would stray... and readjust his
crotch. Jim tore his longing eyes away and walked back to the gym.
"Last bus leaving in ten minutes, boys!" He clapped. "Come on---let's
GO!"
Tommy was lingering, talking to Manny, looking at Coach while he
dressed. Jim walked over and asked him how his throwing arm was
feeling. "Never better, Coach," he grinned, and grrrrrr'd and started to
flex. Manny got up and accidentally banged him against the lockers.
"Come on, Arnold. We gotta get going. We're keeping my old man
waiting." He grabbed his shit and they punched and shoved each other out
the door. Jim walked over and checked Cal's blister to see that
it wasn't infected; he went into his office, closed the door, sat down
and waited...
He waited just outside the bathroom door while Danny showered,
sniffing his sneakers and hearing the noises his cousin made inside.
Sometimes Danny would hang out afterwards in just his boxers, and Jimmy
would feel all fluttery trying hard not to look at his legs... He waited
on a corner outside of a bar underage in college, till a car drove past
or a muscled jock walked by and asked, "What sup?"... He waited on a
bench outside a store where his wife was shopping, watching young couples
go by with their babies... and sometimes the dad looked back... Now he
heard a cough in the quiet outside and a locker opened. He pushed up out
of his chair and walked to the door with rubber knees. Parker was
panting, on the bench, his legs splayed out before him. He looked at Jim
and grinned and said, "It looks like we're alone."
Jim couldn't help it, his cock rose up in full and hard erection, and
he felt like he was twelve again, or twenty, or twenty-seven. Parker
said, "Come here," and Jim walked over and stood before him. Parker
narrowed his eyes, looked up and said, "We need to talk." Jim felt a
terrible thrill like a punch had hit him in advance. Here comes the
kiss-off, he thought. You blew it. You blew your fucking chance. "I
wanna win a scholarship to play football at State. I need someone to
train me good to make that happen, Coach."
Jim felt like he had just gotten reprieved, or they'd just let him out
on parole. "I know you went to State yourself. You still know people
there?" Jim exhaled. "A couple, yeah. But nobody important... Guys
I've met at conferences and seminars and stuff.." "Guys you've fucked?"
His grin was wicked. "Guys with big dicks, Coach?" "Yeah," Jim blushed,
"a couple of 'em..." "Had 'em in your mouth?" "...Yeah," Jim whispered,
watching Parker scratch his wet blond pits. "Had that mouth of
yours around that other guy's hard cock?" Jim looked deep in Parker's
eyes and swallowed. Parker said, "Let me know if you think I got a dirty
mouth or something."
Jim heard him talk and the throb in his cock was so strong it was
making him crazy. He tried hard to think and not just fall down and lick
those muscled legs. "Talkin' dirty helps me relax, ya know..." Parker
looked up and grinned. "Plus Miss Johnson says I gotta improve my verbal
skills." So close to the boy Jim stood and breathed the odor of his
sweat; a drop beaded right at the edge of his eyebrow, another one
dropped on his shorts. "Well," he said, "I guess I still got time to
make connections. More important... where can I find a coach to work me
hard?" He smiled his whitest smile at Jim. "Who won't take none of my
bullshit. Who'll bust my ass cause he'll look at me and know he's got
hold of a champ."
He stood. "We know anyone like that? Who wants to get hold of a
champ?" He reached down and scratched at the lump in his pants, then
poked at his navel for lint. He lifted his sweaty finger up, and traced
it over Jim's lips; and smiled when Coach moaned and opened his mouth,
and let Parker push it in. Jim got all red like a blushing girl, his
breath was short and ragged. "Someone who'll work me just as hard as I
think he wants to take it?" Jim couldn't talk, cause Parker's fingers
were working down into his throat; he gagged a little and Parker laughed
and said, "Come on, Coach, fuck....." He held Jim's eyes with his own
and Jim relaxed and Parker pushed, and felt his Coach's mouth all
wet around the fingertips. A little leak of spit drooled out the corner
of Jim's mouth; Parker scooped it up with his thumb and fed it back to
him.
The jock looked down and saw the fuckin' tent his coach was making,
pulled his fingers out and wiped them slowly on Jim's shirt. Jim moved
his jaw and swallowed and asked, "You think you're special, doncha?
Fuckin' punk! You think you got what it takes for college BALL?" Parker
looked surprised for a second, then grinned at the spunk in Jim's voice.
"Think cause I'm nuts for your fuckin' jock that makes you some kind of a
CHAMP?" He started moving his hands around, like when he explained shit
at practice. "Recruiters eat little hot-shit jocks like you for
breakfast, Parker."
"Really, Coach?" he asked, all innocent. "Is that how it works at
State? All those recruiters waitin' in line for a taste of the eggs and
sausage?" He squeezed his crotch and Jim tried to huff but his breath
died out in his throat. He watched the jock's strong fingers kneed the
sweaty bulge of his crotch. "Well," Park laughed, "it IS the most
important meal of the day..." He scratched. ---"So what I'm hearing is
that I need a coach who's good---and hungry?" He reached out and
squeezed through Jim's shirt at his nipple, and Jim felt his mouth go
dry. "Tell me as much as you've watched me play---" he squeezed, "---I
don't have what it takes..." Jim felt the strength in Parker's hand and
knew his cock was leaking. He grunted as Parker applied more pressure,
and took what the jock dished out.
"Yeah," Jim moaned, "you maybe got it..." Parker grinned. "You
think?" He squeezed and felt Jim's nipples harden, felt his pecs tense
up, watched Jim hurt and shiver and take it, the lump that grew big in
his crotch. Jim clenched his fists and unclenched them and kept his arms
hanging full down at his sides. "February... 5 AM," he grunted, "you
gonna be up, running five?" "You bet." "Sunday morning, after the
Prom. You gonna be out on the track?" Parker squeezed. "Fuck. After
the Prom?" Jim spat. "All fuckin' talk..."
Parker let go and then took a step backward and Jim stood in front of
him, panting. "Coach," he said, "I got control like you can only
imagine... You think I'd let a piece of tail fuck up my fuckin'
program?" "And no sneaking beer on the weekends, either..." Parker
clutched himself, wounded. He plopped on the bench and grabbed hard at
his throat, like he was an actor and dying. "Tell you what,
though---when you win the Heisman? I'll spring for the French
champagne."
Parker stopped dying and let his hands drop. "Is that a yes, then,
Coach?" Jim felt his stomach pull up like it knew he was making a deal
with the Devil. "I wasn't gonna suggest it myself... and put you on the
spot." He let his fingers scratch under the waistband of his shorts; he
watched Jim's eyes and said, "I bet we'd make a hella team." Showers
dripped in the background. "Think of it, Coach. Just you and me, every
cold-ass morning... And then those sessions on the weekends when I work
you EXTRA hard..." He stopped and laughed and the actor came back. "I
mean when you work ME... I'll tell all my new fans that you are the MAN,
and I couldn'ta done it without ya..." Slowly his fingers moved under
his waistband and slowly he lowered his shorts. He slipped them off and
tossed them to Jim and sat there in just his jock. "And then if I'm
good," he cupped his pouch, "and I don't disappoint you at practice...
you'll have the fuckin' satisfaction of knowing you're eating the
best..." Jim couldn't even moan: he held the shorts and time had
stopped. "Damn I sweat... They're really wet, Coach. Right there at the
crotch."
Like voodoo arms it was like Jim's own were suddenly possessed. Like
Frankenstein hands they mashed the shorts against his flaring nose. He
weakened and whimpered and throbbed and gave in again, huffing the damp
of the crotch. He saw the young jockboy's cock start to get harder
and sank on his knees to get close. He watched the stretched bulge of
the pouch expand and start to tent obscenely. He lifted his eyes and
locked them on Parker's brown and probing ones. The jock watched his
coach's fingers stuff his shorts into his mouth. "Fuck yeah, Coach, aw,
fuck. Yeah, chew 'em... Be my little bitch..."
Jim chewed real good and his mind-of-their-own hands crawled up
Parker's muscled legs. He felt the blond hairs slide against his wet
forearms and sucked for the salty sweat. Parker inhaled, too, and picked
up the scent of his coach as his face glazed over. He smiled and pulled
his spit-wet shorts real slowly from Jim's mouth. He tensed his cock and
let it stiffen even fuckin' further. He slapped Jim's cheek then pinched
it. "So we got a deal then, Coach?" Jim looked down on a bulge so big
no highschool kid should have it; he heard the showers dripping, too.
"Yeah, jock..." he mumbled, bested.
Parker leaned forward and put out his hand, and Jim reached up weakly
and shook it. From his kneeling angle he glimpsed the wet in Parker's
pits. "Cause let me tell you something, Coach, and you can laugh or
what. I'm already aimin' for the fuckin' NFL." He tensed up his muscled
thighs and Jim felt the power his hands were seeking. "Whaddya think,
Coach. Wide receiver. You think these legs can do it?" Fuckin' packed
into football pants, ploughin' down the field, the patch of calf, the...
"Parker... please? Please let me sniff your jock..."
Thirty-fucking-six years old, and on my knees like a bitch... Parker
pulled him forward and down, "Yeah, Coach. We're starting just fine..."
Jim pressed his open, hungry mouth full up against Parker's jock. He
greedily snuffed at the heady odor of sweat and piss and cock. His brain
shut down and he didn't fight it; his cock throbbed 'cause he was a
bitch. Parker just grunted and pushed further forward and told him to
use his tongue. Jim did. He lapped at the long thick rod and saw the
flesh of the cock through the mesh. Parker pushed his face down and told
him not to forget his nuts.
Jim didn't. He nuzzled and licked and chewed till Parker's balls fell
out of his jock. He leaned down lower to lick 'em and Parker massaged
his muscled back. For five good minutes he ate the eggs, like any good
recruiter; Parker pushed him away and said, "Now take my sneakers off."
His nut slid out of Jim's mouth with a pop. They hung there, wet, and
glistened. Jim's own crotch was soaked and he swallowed and fumbled with
the laces. He slipped them off and got all hot when the sock-stink hit
his nose. Jim bent down like a man entranced, or a slave, with cravings,
hungry... He chewed on the wet rank cotton: Parker didn't have to tell
him. Eventually, then, the socks came off. "Fuck yeah. You like that,
Coach?" He did. He flushed. He fucking did. A toe depressed his
tongue... Parker Nicholls' little bitch... after every cold-assed run...
Parker of course got a kick as always from watching Jim lick his
sneaker, from watching his big hairy coach with his tongue out, licking
real deep inside. But then like a champion jock he thought, Let's take
this a little further. He told Jim to stand and strip and grinned at the
way his cock was drooling. "Put your hands behind your back." Jim did
as he was told. "Now let's see you spread your legs---wanna see what I
got to work with..." It was like the jock's strong voice was wired
directly to Jim's hips; he swallowed and started to swivel them slowly,
just like a little bitch.
Parker's face was flushed, like ripened apples in his cheeks; he
watched his coach's cock bob up and down, and watched it leak. He picked
up his dirtier sneaker and laced it around Jim's dick and nuts; Jim oozed
uncontrollably as Parker tied him off. Every time the jock's big hands
brushed his dick as he fucked with the laces, his former pussy-fucking
coach's cock got even harder. When he was done he leaned back on the
bench and gave Jim's tool a slap. "Look at you, Coach! You got my
sneaker hanging from your nuts!" Jim had a vision of Robbie walking in,
and catching them...
"This is how it's gonna work, Coach." Parker's voice was soft. "At
practice you are the MAN, the numero uno, the fuckin' BOSS... Workin' me
hard as you fuckin' know how, right? Getting right up in my face. And
afterwards, well... you do what I tell ya---and trust me, we'll both get
off..." He poked Jim's cock again and watched his trainer as it swayed.
"Look at me, Coach. Tell me---you had a better deal all day?" Jim
arched the small of his back up against his hands, and spread his legs.
Looking down he saw how his cock hung fat, and he bucked his hips. He
moaned and tried to fuck the air, and Parker wet his lips. He reached
out and tugged a few times on the laces. "Get on your knees again,
bitch."
Without even thinking, betrayed by his body, Jim knelt down in front
of the jock. No one before in his life had ever talked to him like
that. His hands were still behind his back, his cock was hard and
leaking, he wondered if this was how Parker treated the girls that he was
fucking. He thought of them kneeling in someone's bedroom while Parker
kicked back on the bed, calling them little sluts and making them beg to
give him head. The thought made a shiver run all through his body, his
cock got even harder; he wondered how many could handle a cock as long
and thick as Parker's...
He must have zoned out, 'cause the jock had to snap his fingers to
bring him back. "Now what I want is for you to get down there and put
your mouth to work." It was like Jim's cock had ears of its own, the way
it tensed and twitched, and he groaned when he looked and saw just how
much precum was drooling from the tip. His brain overflowed with the
smell of Parker's sweaty feet and jock, and capsized into the sexual sea
of heat the boy put out. His knees scraped over the floor and the
sneaker swung weighted from his crotch, his tongue came out of his
cocksucking mouth as soon as it reached the pouch. Parker grunted,
"Damn! You're like a doggie bitch in heat!... That's right... eat that
jock real good, Coach. FUCK!!---that mouth feels swweeeeeet!..."
He grabbed Jim's head with his hands and wiped his face with the
sweat-ripe jock. He laughed and watched Jim's hands start crawling up
his calves and thighs. "Yeah, Coach, FEEL those pythons, man. Football
player's legs!..." He stretched them out and teased his coach and made
Jim feel them strain. He watched his hairy muscled coach start
whimpering real bad, licking at the dirty jock like he was going mad.
"That's right, Coach, now chew it, fucker, chew it off my cock," and Jim
bent down and chewed until the fucking thing came off. A mix of spit and
piss and sweat had overrun his mouth; he swallowed through the jock and
felt the drool run down his throat. He pulled the jock off Parker's meat
and slowly down his nuts. He moaned, wiped out, when the massive tool
came free and sprang full up. It slapped against the jock's hard abs and
smeared his golden skin. "Okay, Coach, you can spit it out now. It's
time for my dick to go in."
Jim looked up dumbly and spit out the jock and his tied-off cock hung
heavy; he took a deep breath and opened up his mouth and kneeled and
waited. "Lick the head, Coach. Lick up all the juice that I've been
leakin'... Gotta keep my trainer happy, right?" Jim moaned and did it.
He lapped the head of Parker's cock like he had dreamed all weekend, like
a junkie finally admitting his addiction. He opened up and took a couple
inches of the shaft. "Yeah you little pussy, yeah... I knew you'd
friggin' like that." He grabbed Jim's head again and pulled him slowly
off his meat. He made him kiss it twice then pushed it back into his
mouth.
He held Jim's head and started fucking slowly in and out; he nudged it
with his foot and made his sneaker swing around. "Jesus, Coach, you got
a mouth just like a fuckin' whore's! You keep that up and I might be
tempted to FLUNK a fuckin' year!" He laughed and accidentally pushed his
cock in really deep; Jim arched his lower back and gagged, impaled on
Parker's meat. His eyes teared up... he tried to breathe through his
nose... but his throat was blocked; his hands gripped Parker's legs to
hold him up if he passed out.
Parker however knew just what he needed, and let Jim have some air.
He waited while Jim stopped his panting then asked him, "Why don't you
have a boy?" Jim couldn't answer, his throat was too raw and his lungs
were too empty of air. "Seems to me a stud like you should have a
friggin' stable. Unless you maybe... LIKE bein' on your knees?... an'
takin' orders?...." Who does he fuckin' think he IS? Jim thought, but
then it splintered. He looked at Parker's cock and knew exactly what he
wanted... His nostrils flared and he smelled the dizzy smell of dick and
sweat, his cock had leaked so much that even the laces around it were
wet. Parker slapped his coach's cheek and pointed to his cock. Both of
them knew that it was time for Parker to get off.
He leaned in slowly and ran his tongue back over the egg-shaped nuts,
and cleaned them of the sweat that never it seemed stopped building up.
He lapped them clean and then began to lick the thickened shaft, stopping
every inch or so to worship Parker's flesh. He kissed and licked up to
the head and nibbled on the glans; Parker started moaning softly. Jim
reached up with his hand. He held his mouth against the crown and
stroked the stud-boy's dick; and soon the player's juice was smeared all
over his puffy lips. He opened his mouth and let it sink full halfway
down the shaft, and blushed at just how... right it felt... his mouth
filling up like that... He felt the jock's big hands move up and hold
his head in place. Parker pistoned and grunted and started to fuck his
coach's face.
Every six or seven thrusts he'd pull his cock half out; he'd let Jim
almost breathe then push it back into his mouth. "Move your hips, you
little bitch. Let's see that sneaker MOVE!" Little bitchy slurping
sounds filled up the lockerroom. Parker moved right to the edge of the
bench, so Jim could take all of his cock. He moaned like a little
whore. "Come on, Coach, come on---open UP..." Inches and inches of
Parker's cock slid into Pierson's throat, his fingers gripped the muscled
thighs and something in him broke. His cock lurched up and Jim could
feel that he had lost control, it strained against the laces and began to
spray the floor. This made his throat constrict again around the cock
he'd swallowed. Parker groaned "Aw FUCK" and gripped Jim's head and
"FUUCCKK!!" ---exploded...
Creamy jets of pearly cum filled up Jim's pussy mouth; Parker swore
and slammed the last inch in especially hard. Jim's back and ass arched
up, his cock kept spewing everywhere, his lips were stretched and mashed
into the jock's blond pubic hair. He swallowed and swallowed and moaned
when Parker pulled his cock half out; the sneaker swang real good and Jim
clung crazed to the head with his mouth. Tears and sweat ran down Jim's
face, his throat was sore and battered, and he slumped against the jock's
ripe crotch like a bitch who's just been mastered. His hands still
gripped the muscled thighs, his throat was sore and stretched, his jaw
went slack and Parker pulled his fat dick out all wet.
He wiped it firmly on Jim's face then made him clean it off; not much
doubt in Parker's mind NOW who was the fuckin' boss. "You want some
more, bitch?" Jim looked up and dumbly nodded yes. Parker laughed and
let some piss splash onto Pierson's chest. Jim flinched a little but his
cock throbbed again, and pulled the sneaker up. The smell of Parker's
piss made him dizzy as it trickled down over his gut. "Whaddya think,
Coach?" Parker stood up. "Am I a champ or what? If I'm not busy after
the game you can have more Friday night." Jim nodded blankly and tried
to lean in and kiss the sweaty meat. Parker snapped his fingers and
stopped him and pointed to his feet. "Looks like I stepped in the cum
you shot, Coach. Why don't you clean 'em off?"
Wiped out, unargumentative, Jim crouched before the jock. A drop of
sweat or tear splashed down and Jim's tongue lapped it up. He
cleaned each foot real good, he licked the sole and toes and arch, he
brushed his cheek against the light blond hairs of Parker's calves.
Finally Parker squatted down and messed his coach's hair. They heard a
noise in the hall outside and remembered the janitors. "That was good,
Coach. You are gonna be a first-class bitch. Now get to your office and
let me shower so everything looks legit." "Parker..." "Friday night, if
I'm not busy, after the game..." Ten minutes later he knocked on Jim's
door, already showered and changed. He tossed his jock at Jim and
winked. "You know what to do with it, right?" Jim let it hang from his
mouth by the straps till Parker was out of sight.
A few streets away Tyler Adams bucked traffic and almost got run
over. He'd waited for Parker and hidden when he saw the two were
talking. Now he swerved and a car horn blared and he was a little
sneak. His heart was racing, he stopped at a phone booth and dialed
Alex's house. "Yeah, can I just stop by for a second? YES, I have some
money." He tried to calm down and pretend that people weren't looking at
him funny. His parents weren't arguing too much that night, he studied
and went to bed early. He still saw his coach sucking Parker's fat cock
when the sun woke him up in the morning.
to be continued...