Date: Sun, 22 Oct 2006 06:29:56 -0700 (PDT)
From: Mark Wild <markwild082@yahoo.com>
Subject: Red Devil Wrestler, pt. 4

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 adolescent 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 names and descriptions (except for the occasional place-name) 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


For J.D. Salinger, my favorite writer, although I doubt he'd like it!



Red Devil Wrestler, pt. 4



Bren was back from California, so we were all hanging out, catchin' some
rays by Slater's pool, grillin' some burgers and piggin' out.  He and
Slate had this Triple A map of state parks that had white-water rafting,
and they kept yellin' to Jake and me, askin' if we were in?  WE were
splashin' around the pool.  "Of course we are, ya crazy??"  Craig was
sprawled out soakin' the sun up and lookin' real fuckin' sexy.  He was
all kicked back with his sunglasses on and his arms up and legs spread
wide.  I had to be careful so Slate wouldn't catch me, checkin' him out
on the sly.  Craig's hair was deep brown, but in summertime, dudes, it
got flecked with these streaks of gold sunlight, and now that I was, uh,
checkin' out dudes more, Craigger was lookin' real tight...  Every so
often he'd lazily wipe off the sweat from his arms and his pecs, and
slick back his hair and expose his wet pits ---that bastard was OOZIN'
sex...  "What about you, bro?" Slater yelled over.  "You free on the
twenty-sixth?"  Craigger lifted his head and said, "And the
twenty-seventh for you, bitch."  "In your fuckin' sicko dreams,
bro," Slater shot right back, flexin' his bicep and spittin' real cool.
 Craig smiled wide; Bren laughed.

   Then Slater did something real junior high, and scavenged his plate
for a round slice of pickle, lobbed it real smoothly right over towards
Craig and... it landed, splat! ---right on his nipple!  Jake gufFAWED and
Craig jumped up and said, "You're dead meat, bro!" shook off the sweat,
took his sunglasses off, and cannonballed into the pool.  Slater swore
when the water splashed out and got their map all wet, Craig stood up and
I watched the water stream down his muscled chest.  He lifted his hands
and slicked back his thick hair and said, "That's just for starters,
bitch!" an' man, I was glad I was wearin' my boardies, 'cause hearin'
that made my dick twitch.  I had like this vision of me on my knees,
sniffin' his dirty jock, lickin' the bulge till he pulled it out and made
me suck his cock.  Then he swam over and started shootin' the shit with
me and Jake, about how it sucked workin' out at the golf course, and how
Barry Bonds was a fake.  Then Jake mentioned how Matt fuckin' Leinart was
bangin' that Paris Hilton.  "Dude better watch his dick then, bro, if
that's the shit he's drillin'..."  "As IF, dude," I said.  "He's a
stud football jock!  You KNOW he can handle his tool!"  Jake agreed
(since he played on the team!), "Coop, you said a mouthful!"

   We high-fived like goofballs and chanted our chant, which was
"Football, and Trophies, and 'Ho's!"  "Yeah, Craig, it's a snatch buffet
when you're playing in the pros!"  Craig scratched his chest.  "Lay off
of it, Jake.  Yer givin' me a boner."  "What's with that, man?" Jake
tossed back.  "You didn't get laid in Florida?"  "Ha!" Craig said, with a
wicked grin.  "Those sluts were HOT for bonin'!  I slipped 'em The Rock,
bro! ---you should'a HEARD 'em!"  ---"The Craig had 'em moanin' and
groanin'!"  ..."Jesus, Coop, that the best you can do?" Slater chimed in
like a wise-ass.  "Choke on it, bro!" I said, glancing at Craig.
"Sometimes you are suuuch a jackass...."  "I got some ass for ya, Coop!"
Bren yelled, and jumped into the pool, and then we played some
volleyball, and I played good, which was cool.

   I only lamed out once or twice, spazzin' out on some calls,  but  then
we'd just rag and jock off on each other, and jostle each other and all.
I kept my hands, though, waaay to myself ---I mean, these were my
BUDDIES, for YEARS!  It would like be fuckin' WORSE than the crabs, if
they were to think I was queer.  Once though, man, I dove for the ball
and missed and wiped right out, and ended up with Craigger's feet like
three inches from my mouth.  I got up swearin', but not before I got a
real good whiff... and then had to think about ugly chicks to keep my
dick from gettin' stiff.  In one fuckin' second I wanted to lick Craig's
sweaty feet and dick, and walk around with a hard-on for 'im, and be his
little bitch.  I wanted to fuckin' feel it when he slammed me down on a
mat, rubbin' his big bulge over my face and hearin' him say, "You LIKE
that?"  I wanted him to pin me bad, so I was at his mercy...  Slater
laughed.  "Come on!  Get up, bro!  Don't be a fuckin' pussy!"  "I got
cher pussy right here, bro!" not even thinkin'... and then goin'
"Ooops..." ---and they fuckin' died and said very rude things to me.
"Woohoo!!  Fuckin' COOOOP!!"

   Later we just lay around and shot the shit and got caught up.  "This
is the life, bro!"  "Who just farted?"  "What'd I do with my cup?"  Bren
asked Craig if he'd fuckin' decided yet, where he was goin' to school?
and Craig said, "Naw, I still got a month to decide."  Bren nodded.
"Cool."  Craig had been accepted to State, but he wasn't plannin' on
goin'.  He was aimin' for OSU.  "Maan, now they got WRESTLIN'!"  "Think
of it, dude!"  "Man, if you made their team you'd be wrestlin' Division
I!"  "Fuckin' eh, huh?"  "Forget it, Craig,"  Slate said.  "...You ain't
that good."   Damn... if anyone else had said that, Craig would'a spat
and just grabbed his crotch... but comin' from his teammate you could
tell that pissed him off.  In fact he kind of looked like he was chokin'
on a pill.  "...You might be a little stronger, Mott, but I got more
sheer skill."

   Man, he was fuckin' pushin' it, but, like I said, that was Slater
---always shootin' his mouth off first and worryin' about it later.  "You
ain't got no special skills, bro, don't go startin' that!  Some'a them
dudes they paired you against?  Shit, don't make me laugh..."  ---"Give
it up, bro."  Slate had his blood up.  "Your stats ain't all THAT."  "YOU
give it up, bro.  It ain't about stats, bro.  It's all about ownin' the
MAT..."  He jumped from the bench and then started approachin' the lawn
chair that Slater was sprawled in.  "How about we go a round or two NOW,
bro?  I think you could USE a good lesson!"  Fuck, you could tell just by
Craig's body language that he was up for SOMEthin'.  The rest of us just
sat around and thought, Uh oh, here we go again...  Slate hopped up and
pulled off his tank-top and tossed it on the ground.  "Come on, Craig, if
you're so hot, then.  Yeah, let's go a round!"  Jake clapped his hands
and then rubbed them together and Bren yelled, "Fuckin' Motttt!"  I had
to slide down so my crotch was all baggy, they both looked so crazy
hot...

   "What you gettin' so wound up for?  I hit a nerve or somethin'?"
Craig feinted quick but Slate danced away.  The veins in their necks
started pumpin'.  Craig slapped the chair and it folded and fell and he
laughed and then giant-stepped over it.  They were both flushed like
they'd taken Viagra.  My dick started throbbin' like shit.  From where I
sat I could see Slate's back muscles rippling as they circled.  Craig was
crouched down and even the veins on the side of his neck were purple.  He
lunged again and Slate grabbed his arm and twisted real wicked smooth;
Craig went over Slate's shoulder then DOWN, hitting the grass with an
"ooooff..."  We all of us winced, but he jumped right up, and even before
Slate could start to boast, Craig started moving in real relentless,
going straight for his throat.  Next thing I knew Slate was down on one
knee with a brutal half-nelson on him, and Craig was reaching between
Slate's legs, grabbin' his thigh and pullin'.  Slate went down with his
other foot braced, twisted IN... and fuckin' escaped!  "Woohoo Slater!
Fuckin' nice move, bro!  Damn, we should have this on tape!"

   Slate didn't answer:  he was too busy now, keeping his eyes on Craig,
watching for clues in the way he was tensing the muscles in his legs.
Craig was moving in and out though, keeping Slater off-balance, and
making him second-guess himself ---which was NOT one of Slater's
best talents.  Then of course they started swearin' and talkin' trash to
each other, acting less like long-time buddies and more like first-class
rivals.  "Come on buddy!  I thought you were hot..."  "You're gonna be
eatin' grass, bro!"  "First you gotta take me down, Slate!  Think you
can DO that, HOMO?"  There it was, the magic word that always set Slate
off.  I checked out real quick that the guys weren't lookin' and
rearranged my crotch.  Craigger knew that that was gonna piss Slate off
as well:  he shouldered him hard when Slate lunged in and smiled real
smug when he fell.  I swear, I think I'd never seen Craig look so fuckin'
pumped.  And then for one second his eyes met mine... and he winked
---and I fuckin' jumped...

   My heart was pounding in my throat when Craigger shook his head,
adjusted himself and taunted Slater.  "Git up.  Stop playin' dead."
Slater bitched and got up on one knee and ---talk about bein' saved by
the bell!  Just then we heard his 'rents pull in the driveway.  "What
the..."  "---Fuckin' HELL."  Craig wasn't happy but shrugged.  "Oh well,
I guess I'll cream ya later."  "Yeah, bro, you just keep dreamin',
okay?"  Craig stretched.  "I'll do that, Slater."  Then Jake reminded
them both to shake hands and to chill with the friggin' horseplay.  They
both wiped their hands on their trunks and then shook.  "Later dude...."
"Fuckin' eh..."

   I mean, I'll give his 'rents credit and all:  they pretty much left us
alone.  But still...  Jake said it was gettin' late and he guessed he'd
be headin' home.  Craig said yeah, it was time to head out, and asked if
I needed a ride.  I nodded sure and felt my stomach flutter up inside.
We gathered our stuff up and Slate came over and whispered, "Don't gag on
it, bro."  I looked up quickly.  "I seen you, Coop.  You are suuuuch a
homo..."  "Gimme a break, huh?"  Slater just laughed and knocked me on my
head.  "It's just a ride."  But I couldn't stop my face from turnin'
red.  "It's cool, dude," he offered.  "Ha! ---believe it or not, for once
I ain't even horny.  ...Just make sure that mouth is hungry for Junior in
the morning."  Man, when he USED to talk like that it made me wanna haul
off and clock 'im; now... when he turned away he left me standin' there
with a guilty hard-on.  I knew all night I'd be tossing and turning now,
hoping he'd wear his old jock, dreaming he'd force my head down on his
pole, and watch while I bitch-sucked his cock...

   I followed him back to the rest of the guys and Craig said, "You
ready, MC?"  We walked to their cars they had parked out in front.  The
night was like eighty degrees.  "I'll pick you up at seven, Coop," Slate
called as we backed out the driveway.  "You're alright, man," I drawled
right back.  "I don't care WHAT the guys say!"  "Later, Slate," Craig
said, "I'll call ya.  We can hook up this weekend maybe."  "Sounds like a
plan, dude.  But call first, okay?  I MIGHT be tied up with the ladies!"
"Gotcha, Slate," Craig said with a snort, and we tooled real cool to the
end of the block.  Then he pulled off his tshirt and floored it, and
wooooooed! when we really took off.  I tried real hard not to stare at
his chest, and pretended to look out the window.  He grabbed my knee and
I jerked and he laughed.  "You doin' okay there, bro?"  "Yeah, Craig.
Cool, bro.  Just don't touch me, okay?  I'm not a homo."

   Craig pulled his hand back and started grinnin' like shit till I
stopped him.  "What?"  "Gimme a break, Coop.  YOU a queer?  You think I'm
fuckin' nuts?"   "NO," I said, relaxing a little, leaning back in my
seat.  He braked and I even noticed the fuckin' muscles in his FEET.  He
stretched at the red light and I could see his pits detailed in the rosy
glow.  "Just watch your ass around Slater, Coop.  I think HE'S the
homo."  "He is NOT," I jerked to defend him.  "Slater's as straight as I
am!"  ..."Donna said when he was drunk one night... he said he like
flexes for dudes... on cam."

    ..."Dude," I said.

   "That's what she said."

   ..."He never mentioned THAT...."

   "Guess it's like he says, Coop.  He's a man of many hats!"

   "Dude," I said, "...he was pullin' her leg."  ---"He's been pullin'
his fuckin' DICK, bro!"  Craigger laughed and punched my arm.  "An' you
believe 'er?"  "How should I know?  ...All I know is you got some idea
that Slater's like fuckin' gold.  He wrestles good, but he got some
breaks, Coop.  ---Sorry if that sounds cold."

   "Yer just jealous."  Craigger looked over at me and asked, "Of WHAT?"
His chest was perfect and beautiful dark brown hair trailed over his
gut.  " 'Cause he like won the division and all."  Craig spat.  "My dick
is bigger."  "Dude!" like I was deeply shocked.  "That's too much info,
Craigger!"  "Ha," he laughed, and his bicep bulged when he squeezed
between his legs.  ..."Besides, so what?  We all of us know you're bigger
than all of us, Craig."  I felt like I'd just stumbled off of a cliff.
Craig clucked and said, ---"That so?  And how would that be somethin'
that even you football jocks would know?..."  Man I was glad that the
windows were down 'cause my pits were soppin' wet.  I had to recover
fuckin' quick.  "---Dude!  It's all over the NET!"  Craig leaned sideways
and scratched the awesome cleft between his pecs.  "Holy shit!  The
bitches filmed it?  They said it wa'n't nothin' but SEX!"  "Dream on,
dude!" I said to derail 'im, before this got out of control.  But he was
already gyratin' his hips, just like he was dickin' some 'ho.

   "Sorry, Coop."  He saw me lookin'.  "You know I'm like a dog in
heat."  I couldn't help it.  I wanted to get on my knees and swallow his
fuckin' meat.  "Yeah, Craig, that makes two of us, bro."  Why didn't I
shut UP?  Craigger grinned and started diggin', scratchin' at his nuts.
"Well, Coop, just remember ---I got a bone for ya, bro, right here!"  I
told him to eat me and wanted to chew on that bone like a little queer.
Man I wanted to feel him slam me hard, like we were on the field, force
me down with his powerful arms and make me give and yield.  I wanted my
mouth to burn wet from the taste when I chewed on his funky socks, while
he laughed and showed me what Red Devil Wrestlers thought all
about football jocks.

   "Naw, Coop, I ain't gonna eat cha.  We got Slate for that!"  He
grabbed my shoulder and squeezed it firm and chills ran up my back.  I
shook his hand off.  "Dude, that's sick!"  Craig laughed.  "Just think of
it, bro!  ...Payin' him back real good for all of those times when he
calls you a homo!"  "Dude, are you for fucking real?"  Craig grabbed down
at his crotch again.  "Coop!  I"m goofin'!  Gimme a break.  ---An' gimme
some fuckin' skin."  We slapped our hands and Craig slowed down and
turned onto my street.  "Whaddya say we go do us some fishin' when Slate
goes away in two weeks?"  (Oh yeah, Slater was goin' to visit some
relatives in Missouri.)  "I know this spot over at Greenwood Lake.  It
fuckin' rocks, you'll see!"  He started drummin' the steerin' wheel and
pulled into the drive.  "Maybe we'll even pack the sleepin' bags and
spend the night."  Gulp, I thought.  "Yeah sure," I said.  "I'll run it
by the Sargeant."  I jerked my head towards the house and Craigger
laughed.  "Yeah, Coop.  You do that."

   He sank back in the leather seat and scratched his muscled thigh.
"Think of it, bro."  He lowered his voice.  "Just fishin' and gettin'
high..."  "Awesome plan, bro."  "Plus if we spend the night we can swim
around bare in the lake."  I giggled.  "What?"  "With THAT thing floppin'
around we won't have to pack any bait!"  Craig rolled his eyes and then
slapped at my head, a thing they'd all picked up from Slater.   "Fuckin'
eh, huh?  Well get the okay from your mom and we'll work out the details
later."  "Okay, Craigger.  Thanks for the ride, man."  Craigger said, "No
prob.  Maybe we'll even get lucky and find us some bitches to work on our
knobs!"  "Mott!" I said, "It ain't about luck!  It's all about workin'
the mojo!"  Craigger grinned.  "You need some pointers, you just let me
know."  "Will do, buddy, and thanks for the offer."  God, I wanted to
stroke his dick, wanted to see it bone up hard and wrap my hands around
it.  I also didn't want Craig to kill me, right in the fuckin'
driveway.  So I just opened the door and got out.  "Thanks, man.  See you
Wednesday."

   "Later, Coop."  He leaned out his window.  "And keep your eyes on
Slate."  I tried to show off and scratched cool at my abs.  "Jeezus.
Give it a break!"  Craigger put his hand on the clutch, and I leaned down
close and grinned.  "What?" he asked suspiciously.  ---"They even kept
samples for clonin'!"  Craig groaned bad but I didn't care:  I'd brushed
against his arm.  He'd just spent three hours in Slater's pool.  How
could his skin be so warm?  He slapped my cheek.  "You're a talent there,
Coop.  If you just sucked dick you'd be perfect!"  My mouth went dry and
my crotch got damp.  Craig winked again.  "You jerk..."

   I stood there dumb while he backed down the drive and watched him tool
to the end of the block.  I'd be in my uniform after a game, crawling
towards his cock.  My knees would bang on the tile floor and he'd laugh
'cause I'd wince but wouldn't stop, rolling his singlet down over his
torso, slowly revealing his dirty jock.  He'd slip it off and make me
chew that jock till it was soaking wet, knowin' that he was in charge and
exposing my dirty little secret.  God, I hardly made it up the stairs
before I came.  I couldn't cool down, calm down, or nothin' ---my whole
fuckin' BRAIN was inflamed.  I jacked off again, and this time I didn't
start off, you know, thinkin' of chicks.  Craig had a fuckin' awesome
cock, and I was gonna get it.



The first time Slater went out for wrestling I stayed and watched him
practice, which he was cool with, "as long as you don't like wave and act
like a jackass."  "Gimme a break," I shot right back.  "And don't be so
friggin' dim."  Like I didn't know how to act when I was hangin' around
the gym!  I mean I'd been playin' in Little League and Pee Wee football
since I was TEN, and EVEN went on vacation once with my dad to see the
Dolphins.  Okay, we had some sucky seats, but I didn't even care ---Slate
and the rest of the guys were at home and I was fuckin' THERE.  I could
even follow the game real good, you know, on the screen, and knew they'd
all tell me the Dolphins sucked, but their faces would still be green.

   So even already when I was fourteen, I KNEW how to act like a jock.  I
was just waitin' to fuckin' grow UP so the midget jokes would stop.  At
least gettin' pubes was an awesome start, then of course we discovered
jackin'.  Girls came next and the next thing you knew we were fuckin'
graduatin'.  I actually only got grounded once, when I banged up the car
real bad ---which was absolutely over-excessive, but hey, ya know, talk
to my dad!  And now here I was taking dick like a pro, and hardly even
gaggin' ---how in the fuck did I fuckin' miss that I had a thing for
cock, man?  "Shiiiit, you always had tendencies, bro."  Slate rubbed
his dick on my open lips, watchin' my tongue lap up under his shaft,
watchin' me nurse on the leaky tip.  "And all these years when I slept
over, you were probably hot for me, huh bro?"  "I was NOT."  "Yeah,
sure.  All these muscles I got.  They turned you homo."

   Slater stood up from the weight bench, pulled his hard cock from my
mouth and stretched; "Go get the baby oil, stud," and wiped at some sweat
on his chest.  I scrambled over in just some briefs that were tented like
fuck from my bone, grabbed the bottle and scurried back.  "How long till
your mom gets home?"  "Probably a couple hours, Slate."  He
grinned.  "Sweeet!!  That should do it."  He flexed his shoulders and
stretched his neck.  "Come ON, bitch.  Let's hop TO it!"  Slater grabbed
his wrist with his hand and twisted to show off his muscled torso, saw me
starin' and shook his head.  "You are SUCH a little whore, bro."  How
could I deny it?  I mean, I WASN'T a whore... but I would be.  Slater
knew it too, each time he let me feel his body.  He'd laugh 'cause I'd be
even harder than HIM ---I mean, so hard it hurt, till he'd nudge my cock
in my briefs with his foot and I'd gasp and he'd make me squirt.

   Now I moved forward and drizzled some oil all over his shoulders and
upper chest, watchin' it glisten and trickle down in little rivulets.
One brushed the edge of his nipple, pooled in the aureole, then dripped.
 It glistened hypnotically, makin' me moan and lick my puffy lips.  I
caught the drop as it fell with my finger, and ran it up over the curve
of his pec, and felt my briefs clingin' all slick to my cock where I'd
leaked and they were wet.  And then let my hands pray all over Slate's
chest, lost in the feel of his muscles, like he was some teen jock
wrestling GOD and I was his disciple.  "Aw yeah Coop.  Yeah, feel those
babies.  Am I fuckin' SOLID or what?"  I couldn't say nothin'.  I knew it
was true... and felt like a queer in my gut.

   Who ran the fuckin' long sixty-three yards for the touchdown that made
us the regional champs? hidin' my hard-on when Craigger came over in just
some rolled-up sweatpants.  Who got all hot watchin' Slater work out when
he'd work out these days in his "favorite" jock? "the one I stopped
washin' a couple months back, bro," that smelled like his big  teenage
cock.  How many hours a day these days was I waitin' to suck Slater's
awesome dick?  He'd watch me slowly kiss the shaft and laugh.  "Yeah,
Coop, yer cock-whipped."  Fuck, it even made me hotter, when he talked
like that while I sucked on his pole, knowin' my buddy was usin' my mouth
like a little stretched-out pussy-hole.  Poundin' the back of my throat
with his cock and makin' me gulp and gag.  "OPEN that mouth, bitch!  TAKE
my dick, man.  You are SUCH a fag!"

   Now Slater jerked his head and said, "Yeah, now my shoulders,
dick-breath," and I moved behind him and oiled his traps and started
feelin' breathless.  His olive skin was flushed and glistening, radiating
heat; my nostrils flared, my stomach swooned, my homo KNEES got weak.
My hands worked out to his delts real slow, and he flexed them and let
his shoulders ripple.  I leaned in and licked at the nape of his neck and
then reached around blind for his nipples.  Slater moaned "Fuuck..." and
he arched up his back like a cat that was gettin' her tail-bone rubbed; I
started chewin' real light on his neck while I fingered those hot little
nubs.  I pulled his pecs and worked the oil into the cleft between them,
pressed my chest against his back and felt the tension leave him.  Slater
weakly slumped against me, and let my hands do whatever they wanted.  And
I got fuckin' talented hands:  just ask any fuckin' cunt, man.

   I wasn't grabbin' a football now, I was grabbin' his muscled flesh,
and I couldn't help my rock-hard dick from pressin' against his ass.  As
soon as he realized it though, Slate spun around and broke my grip,
slapped me hard and made my head spin, yeah and made my cock drip.  "What
chu fuckin' think yer doin'?  Fuck!  Don't piss me off, bro!  Keep yer
fuckin' dick away from my butt, you little homo!"  "Sorry, Slate."  He
slapped me again.  "You fuckin' better be.  If anyone gets 'erself fucked
around here it's gonna be you, bro, not me!"  We looked and saw the
guilty stain that'd soaked all through my briefs.  "Yeah, you fuckin'
like this shit, you little football freak..."  I couldn't talk; my eyes
moved away from my briefs to his big wet throbbing prick.  My face stung
'cause I was a full-blown queer now, and not just a little flit.  "I'm
sorry, Slate," I said again.  "I couldn't help it, bro."  Slate wasn't
much for holdin' a grudge.  He flexed his arms.  "Here, homo."

   He lifted them up just slowly enough to give me a glimpse of his dark
wet pits, laughing when I swayed on my feet when I got the first brief
whiff.   His biceps were streaked with oil and sweat, and he smirked and
pumped them for me.  My dick was so hard there was no extra blood for my
head and I felt real dizzy.  Just like a pussy I reached out and
grabbed for his guns just to steady myself on my feet, tweakin' hard,
dudes, just from feelin' those fuckers, and brushin' up against his
meat.  I couldn't think straight:  I had this vision of Slate showin' off
for some dude on cam ---which besides kinda pissin' me off made me
jealous as shit, like a little bitch, man.  I'd show him, man, I'd be the
queerest straight boy he could want ---gimme a month with his cock in our
dorm room ---I'd make him forget about cunt...

   Yeah, I'd wait till the lights were half out, then I'd strip myself
down to some tight white briefs, knowin' that all of our buds would be
sleepin' and worshippin' his jockmeat.  He'd whisper shit, like "Slow
down, bitch.  You want 'em all to hear you gag?" and no one would know
that the new jock on campus was really a secret fag.  No one would even
susPECT that the jock shootin' hoops in the quad after class with his
posse, was waitin' for Slater to dead-bolt the door and strip down and
start callin' him "fag" and "pussy."  Yeah, I'd do all that and more,
'cause I was hooked on Slater's prick, like I was like enSLAVED or
somethin' ---or well, at least addicted.  Fuck, I would do almost
anything now, jerk myself off for 'im, beg for my treat, big former
hetero football jock, lickin' Slater's smelly feet.  My mouth hung slack,
my horny hands worked over his pumped and sweaty biceps; Slater grinned
and lifted his arm.  "Come on, bitch.  Take a reeeal deep breath..."

   God, could he push my damn buttons or what? like he'd push on my cock
through my stretched out briefs, rubbing his sole all along my hard shaft
sometimes, makin' me moan for my dick's release.  Never bringin' me off,
though, dudes, never quite lettin' me blow off and cum.  Sometimes I
swear he would keep my cock hard for so long it would still be hard, but
numb.  And then I'd be like in a trance or somethin', doing whatever he
told me to ---and dudes, I don't wanna hear even one snigger:  you'd all
suck his cock if he'd let you.  You'd all be like me, all you
tough fuckin' jocks, you'd be down on your knees lickin' all up his
shaft, 'till he'd slap his big cock on your flushed out cheeks and call
you queers and laugh.  Yeah and your dicks would be just as hard, too,
when he'd make you ask pretty to suck his cock, givin' in to that secret
thrill of serving a tougher jock...

   I did like Slate told me, I moved my head down to inhale the wet smell
of his sweaty pit, wincing when he grabbed my hair and held me a few
inches from it.  I pushed my head forward and Slate laughed and
flexed, and held my trembling head in place.  "Look at me, dick-lips,"
Slater said.  I did, and he spat in my face.  It hit me square beneath my
eye and trickled down over my cheek to my mouth.  "Dammit, bitch!  I told
you LAST time.  Fuckin' stick your tongue out."  Then he took my head and
wiped it right into his pit, and it all mixed up, his sweat, my tongue,
his smell, my lips, his spit.  It was like every damp smell of the summer
had left its faint trace in the matted hair, and every scent was doin'
its part to tease me into turnin' queer.

   I smelled the electric blue night when I creamed 'im, playin'
miniature golf, and he circled the basketball courts three times till I
finished suckin' him off.  I smelled those afternoons when we wrestled so
Slater could stay in practice, and I'd end up pinned and immovilized
with his ball-sac draped across my lips.  He wouldn't even HAVE to
threaten to clock me to urge me to open my mouth real wide, and make me
put my tongue to work while he pushed his balls inside.  "Hum a few bars
for me, won't cha, Coop?"  Slater LOVED that joke.  And he'd swivel
around on my face while I mmmm'd and his nut-juice trickled down my
throat.  I smelled all those mornings he'd wake up boned and let me get
between his legs, so damn horny he'd almost purr and sometimes forget to
make me beg...

   "Aw yeah, COME on!  Lick my fuckin' pit!" he hissed, "...big football
jock..."  And he tightened his bicep around my neck and smothered me
hard in a tight-ass headlock.  He was like totally crushing me, dudes,
and fuck if I even cared.  I wasn't munchin' on tittie or clit:  I was
chewin' my buddy's pit-hair.  "Oh yeah.  Oh yeah.  Fuck yer good.  You
like the way I stink when I sweat?"   Slate wasn't really expecting an
answer.  "Nnnnhhh."  He laughed.  "I bet."  I chewed like a whore on his
armpit muscles and cleaned real good in the hollow between them, hurtin'
for air, and lickin' and squirmin'...  "Settle DOWN, bitch!  Damn!"
Slater loosened his lock up a bit, and watched me gasp and moan on his
'ceps, lapping along the muscled ridge, feelin' my briefs all soaked
and stretched.  He lifted his arm and then pressured my face down, all
along his flaring lats, his hand on the back of my neck like he did when
he'd force some loser to kiss the mat.  First I bent and then I buckled,
and crumbled back down on my achin' knees.  His big fat dick was hard as
nails.  "You want it, don't cha?"  "Pleeease?"...

   I was past bein' ashamed or embarrassed, I wanted his hairy cock so
bad, bad enough to kneel and beg to suck it ---ain't that fuckin' sad?
Slater watched me nonchalantly, knowin' I was hooked.  He tensed his abs
and made his cock bob up.  "Aw yeah Coop.  Look!  LOOK at that fat
fuckin' dick I got, bro!"  He scratched at his balls and then fed me his
fingers; an' I took all three in my mouth like a CHAMP, and not some
second-stringer.  Fuck, there is somethin' just so fuckin' queer about
lettin' your willing throat get used, and knowin' to open it up and reLAX
so it doesn't get scratched or bruised.  Yeah, I was learnin' to work my
throat good, till he'd almost BEG me to bring 'im off, and then when he
shot to massage his fat meat with my tongue till he shivered and pulled
out soft.  Now Slate waited cheerfully and watched me lick his fingers
clean ---fuck, a fag'll do anything, huh, to taste a straight boy's
cream.  He cupped my chin and grinned and slowly worked my horny mouth.
My cock was so heavy it sagged through the leg of my briefs and was hard
and hangin' out.  And when Slater's fingers came out of my mouth, they
came out drooling strands of spit.  "Work my legs like you love 'em,
bro.  THEN you can suck my dick."

   I moaned, 'cause like I said before, Slate's legs were brutal awesome:
 calves like a ranch out in fuckin' Wyoming, and thighs like big Virginia
hams.  "You want some more oil, sir?"  Dudes, I blushed ---'cause I
SWEAR, that just slipped out.  "Naw.  You can give the rest back to yer
mom.  I want you to use your mouth."  He tightened his legs and his
tanned summer skin rippled slowly over his bulging quads; I ran my hands
over his muscled flesh and licked it.  "Aw yeah... that's right
dick-wad..."  I could feel each soft black hair slide underneath my
tongue, and breathed in deep to suck his sweaty scent into my lungs.  My
hands crawled back to stroke his ass and I licked his sartorius up to his
hip.  I moved up slow, like a snail, real slow, along my trail of spit.
He flexed his rectus femoris and vastus medialis, while my fingers
twitched like little spiders inchin' up a trellis.  I felt his calloused
hands come down and hold my head in place.  "Aw yeah, that's the fuckin'
way...   Aw yeah Coop, that feels GRRREAT..."

   I reached his groin and nuzzled in the shallow of his spittled hip,
licking his adductors while his dick-hair brushed my open lips.  The
smell was overpowerin', I mewed just like a pussycat, itchin' to
pounce on his hairy balls and lick his sweaty nut-sac.  Dudes!  It'd been
like seven hours, so of COURSE I was all horned up:  I'd been sportin' a
semi since Slater'd arrived in some gymshorts and asked "What sup?"  Now
he grabbed his throbbing meat, and spanked my face back and forth real
good, and like last season's champ I knelt, and begged and took it while
Slater stood.  He left long streams of sticky juice across my stained and
rosy cheeks.  "Please can I suck it?"  "Ha!  You FAG!!  There somethin'
the wrong with my feet?"

   Shit!!  I blushed.  Slate had big feet, and I had fuckin' forgot 'em.
I lowered myself like a bitch to 'er bone and started lickin'.   "Damn!"
He lifted his heel and watched me lap around his hairy ankle.  I could
still see where his sock had crimped up where his skin retained the
wrinkle.  And I might as well tell you now, so you know ---plus at this
point I don't even CARE what you think:  there's nothin' that makes a
queer feel more queer than huffin' another jock's foot-stink.  I mean
even a straight dude can suck a dick, sometimes as good as a faggot can,
but you gotta have like a gene that screams "Queer!" to bone for your
buddy's toe-jam.  In fact it was sometimes at times like these that I'd
think about old Coach Brown, who always warned us:  "You think you're
gold.  But someone's waitin' to take you down."

   And I would lay in bed at night, just mindin' my business
and squeezin' my dick... and start like to feel this warm itch in my butt
when I conjured up Slater's fleshy prick.  Jesus, not that I'd ever fess
up:  I'd never live THAT down.  I mean I might be his queer cocksucking
fag ---but I wouldn't be his clown.  'Cause trust me, if Slate even
fuckin' susPECTed that I was, uh, wonderin' about, um, you know, gettin'
fucked, he'd ride me hard till he wore me down and fuckin' knocked me
up.  'Cause dudes, all alone late at night with my boner this newsflash
was comin' in loud and clear:  instead of bein' ashamed I was gettin'
turned ON by turnin' really queer.  I'd look at myself in the mirror and
see the same wise-crackin' muscled-up football jock, then get online and
look at pics all night of guys with hairy cocks.  Big cocks, too, bros,
stuffed in queers' mouths with thick jizz dripping down from their messy
chins, queers like me with their jaws distended to take those cocks all
in.  Queers like me on their knees while some wrestler strips out of his
singlet and works his face, whippin' him into submission an' showin' the
loser his fuckin' bitch's place.

   Yeah you should'a seen me, dudes, my cock all engorged hangin' outa my
briefs, throbbin' and leakin' down over my balls while I worshipped
Slater's smelly feet.  He flexed his toes and watched me lick them all
till they were clean of sweat, one by one, in a line, each toe, in a
domino effect.  "Aw.  Aw yeah.  You fuckin' fag.  O' de Old Nikes and No
Fuckin' Socks!  Bet you ain't licked fuckin' dogs this sweaty in months,
huh, Mr Football Jock.  ...Bet you miss those times you'd swipe
Jake's pads and Brad's old funky cup..."  "I did NOT---"  Slate sat down
on the weight-bench.  "Just shut up."  I did, and licked his hairy shin
to just below his knee.  Slater put the sole of his foot on my cock and
pressed it against me.  "Unnnh," I moaned, and bucked, and tried to hump
his hairy leg.  I looked at his cock and my tongue hung out.  It
dripped.  "You want it?  BEG!!"

   Fuck if I didn't.  I looked at that hard tube of meat and thanked
god I was turnin' queer.  "Please bro?  I want it, bro.  Gimme your cock,
Slate.  Fuck my mouth right here..."  Slater laughed.  "That's a radical
thought, Coop!  Sure that's what you want?"  "Yeah..."  I bobbed for the
head of his dick.  "Make me your fuckin' cunt..."  Slater growled, his
piss-slit leaked and he grabbed my head hard and shoved into my mouth.
"Yeah, I'm gonna fuck you, bitch ---more times than you can COUNT!!"
Then he just raped my mouth like the stud he was, till I gripped his
thighs an', chokin', let him push to the back of my throat till my
windpipe was probably fuckin' broken.  He slammed his abs against my
forehead hard, each time he thrust and fucked, and his sweat trickled
down each ripple and into my eyes and they stung while I slurped and
sucked.

   Then I felt his cock expand, and despite what I said before, I choked,
'cause it cut off my last little trickle of air and completely filled my
throat.  Slater swore like he always did when he was gonna cum, and I
should'a passed out from the lack of air but my lungs were already numb.
I swore I could feel the fat head of his dick probin' half the way down
to my tonsils, and since it was blocked all the snot had built up and was
runnin' out my nostrils.  "AWW fuck ---gonna shoot right down your
throat, bro!  ---Aw FUUCK!! a nice HOT load of sperm!"  He grabbed my big
ears and began to piston hard until I gagged and squirmed.  My throat
clamped down on automatic, I could feel Slate start to blow:  his breath
was ragged, his knees tensed up, he SQUEEEALED... and lost his
pearly load...  Thick ropes of jizz spewed out into my throat and I
slurped them all down while I choked on his dick, ALL his sweet cum,
dudes, down into my stomach, strong and wicked thick...  Oh yeah, fuck!
---I was gulpin' his jock-juice like it was a Red Bull or Gatorade; Slate
got a blowjob and I got his cum in a perfectly even trade.

   "Holy," Slater gasped for breath, too, "---holy fuckin' SHIT!!!..."  I
barely felt him box my head as I greedily chewed on his dick.  His juice
kept oozin' down my throat like a tap with a leaky faucet; I sucked his
spongy softening cock and my dick throbbed hard and I lost it...  I
fuckin' shot onto Slate's strong hairy leg like a jock who had lost all
his self-control... grippin' his thighs with his cock in my mouth and...
Craig's fat cock... up my... ASSHOLE......  "UNNNNNHHHH!!!" I shuddered,
my body was wracked with spasms and FUCK!  did I fuckin' shoot!  Slater's
leg was drenched with my friggin' cum...  ---"Awww Jeezus, Coop..."  He
burped and I twitched like a couple last times, and Slate pulled his cock
from between my lips.  It hung plump and glistened.  I leaned in and
kissed it.  "Yeah Coop, you are one lucky bitch..."

   I was a lucky bitch.  Didn't I know it:  Slate was a fuckin' stud.  I
started to talk but it caught in my throat and I coughed, and I coughed
up blood...  Damn.  I cleared my throat a little.  Damn it was fuckin'
sore.  I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and coughed up a little
more.  "Hey bro.  Whoaaa.  How ya doin'?  Okay?"  Slate grabbed his old
tshirt and slid off the bench.  He dabbed at my mouth and the back of my
hand.  "Shit.  Guess I don't know my own strength!"  I was cool and
laughed it off.  "Guess I need to toughen up!"  "Fuck.  You took my cock
like a pro.  You're plenty fuckin' tough..."  I swallowed a little.  It
sure was tender.  "You think?  I'm okay for a homo?"  He laughed, then
stopped.  "Hey!  So you're a fag.  You're still the fuckin' best, bro."
Slate had reached out and was wipin' the sweat that was still tricklin'
down on my abs from my chest.  "Thanks..."  His hands worked slow and
firm.  He whispered, "Just the best..."

   You could've knocked me flat out with a feather:  Slater leaned in and
kissed me!  I hesitated, then opened my mouth and responded.  "Awww
fuck... that's right buddy..."  He mumbled and ran his hands all up my
back and I moaned and we kissed real deep.  He sucked on my tongue and
then ---shuddered and ---shoved me away.  "God damn it!  You fuckin'
FREAK!!"  "Huh?" I gasped.  "You fuckin' queer!  Whadja go and do THAT
for?"  "What'd I do?"  He slapped me hard.  "You fuckin' queer-assed
WHORE!!  You fuckin' ruined everything!"  He was already grabbin' his
clothes.  "Slate..."  "SHUT UP!  Just fuckin' shut up or I'll fuckin'
break your nose..."  I got up slow while he moved all around me,
gathering up his stuff.  "And tell your old man I quit down at the
warehouse, too.  I've fuckin' had enough..."

   He grabbed his keys and a couple CDs and the roach-clip he'd secretly
made me in Shop.  "Slate.  Come on...."  I grabbed at his arm but he
grimly shook me off.  "Don't even CALL me!" he yelled in my face while I
tried to pull some gymshorts on.  By the time I caught up he was already
out the front door and halfway across the lawn.  "I don't EVER fuckin'
wanna fuckin' see your face again!"  "Slate..."  "You're a fag, Coop.
Simple as that.  And I don't have QUEER friends..."  I should'a slugged
back, but I didn't, like always.  "DAMN it, Slate.  Come ON!"  But he
slammed the door tough and peeled out of the driveway and ---just that
quick, he was gone.


to be continued...