Date: Mon, 13 Jan 2014 23:48:43 -0500
From: ACD x <playoffwriter@outlook.com>
Subject: NFL playoffs (part 3)

NFL playoffs 2014 (part 3)

Disclaimer: This story is fiction and is not intended to imply anything
about the true sexuality of the celebrities mentioned or any personal
knowledge about their private lives.

Know I missed the GB-SF game...sorry but been real busy. I'll try to circle
back later and get some of those studs.  For now - enjoy these two.

NFC Semifinal - Saints vs. Seahawks - Seattle, WA

Kenny Stills heard them before he saw them.

The Saints wide receiver was morose as he walked slowly through the
underbelly of the Seahawks' stadium, the jubilant noise of the crowd still
ringing in his ears even though most of them had already spilled onto the
streets of Seattle. Predictably, the Seahawks had sent his Saints packing.
The rookie receiver had long since showered and cleaned up, and was headed
for the exit dressed in a simple gray jacket, t-shirt, and jeans -- nobody
to show off for tonight. He was now off-season Kenny. He was just starting
to think about how he'd spend this last night of his premiere NFL season
when he heard it.


"FUCK yeah..."

The young receiver immediately understood what he was hearing. After all,
this was a 21-year-old kid just out of college in Oklahoma, where football
players were on par with Jesus in the estimation of the student body.
Usually it was young women that Kenny heard expressing that kind of
enjoyment -- at least in person. Recently he'd been exploring other avenues
in his time online, but that wasn't something he liked to talk about with
the guys...or anybody else.

Still, as the dude groaned again, Kenny felt his cock stir under his
jeans. He looked at the doorway it was coming from. A big Seahawks logo was
plastered above the entrance. He started to smile. No shit...

Partly cause he figured he had nothing to lose, and partly cause it was
just the kind of guy Kenny Stills was -- he opened the unlocked door and
went in.

The sounds of pleasure emanating from within the Seahawks locker room
hadn't died away, and in fact Kenny started to hear a second voice. He'd
kind of suspected it all along, but he grinned wider as he realized that
this wasn't some Seattle stud who'd snuck in his lady friend to fuck her in
the locker room...no, those were two dudes' voices, clear as day. "Fuck,
you're tight today, bro," came the second voice, loud and clear now.

Well, Kenny figured, they ain't worried about being heard, I ain't worried
about being seen. He stepped into view.

Russell Wilson looked up first. The Seattle quarterback's body was bare,
and he looked even more impressive than he did on the field. Wilson was
bulky for a QB, not quite 6-foot but carrying well over 200 pounds on that
powerful frame. Wilson's skin glistened light brown with a sheen of sweat,
and his hair was damp and matted against his forehead. The QB's pecs and
abdominals pulled tight as he drove his body forward, relaxed as he drew
his hips back for another go. His arms looked fucking incredible, swelling
with power as they held the massive figure in front of him steady.

"The fuck do you want?" he said nonchalantly, his tone making it clear he
wasn't embarrassed in the slightest. And at that, the other guy looked up
too.

"Oh, fuck." Golden Tate's voice carried a little more of that shock and
shame that Kenny would have expected to hear. Then again, the hard-muscled
receiver was the one bent over getting roughly fucked by his handsome
quarterback. And with the full, rock-hard 8-plus inches of dick throbbing
up between Tate's legs, the guy couldn't exactly deny he was enjoying
it. In fact, as Kenny searched for an answer, Tate ducked his head again
and resumed silently taking Russell Wilson's steady fuck, breathing
shallowly, his own impressively muscled body shuddering with every thrust.

"I, uh...I just heard you in the hall..."

"Yeah, and?" Wilson sounded impatient. "Can I help you with something?"
("Jesus fuck..." Golden Tate was groaning beneath him as Wilson picked up
the pace, his frustration with this interruption mounting and translating
into a harder, deeper fuck.)

"And..." And I wish it was me you were fucking. "I just wanted..." To get
fucking pounded.

Russell Wilson's expression softened as he instantly recognized what was
going on. This poor fucker. Kid probably got as much pussy as he wanted all
through college and it's only just now he's realizing what he really wanted
all along was hard muscle and thick cock. Fact, this boy's probably the
closest thing to a fuckin' twink in the whole goddamn NFL -- what's he,
5'10, maybe 195 max? There's kickers bigger'n him.

"Look, bro, I'm kinda busy, but why don't you start off with my man here --
feels like he needs some relief bad..." To drive home his point, Wilson let
his bulky arm reach around Golden Tate's midsection to wrap around the
receiver's aching-hard prick, making Tate moan as Wilson squeezed his
fingers up its length.

Kenny froze. He couldn't deny his own cock was now throbbing into his
jeans, and when had he pulled off his jacket and started groping himself
through his pants? But if he was gonna do this, he wanted the real
thing... "I'm not...man, I ain't --"

"Man, suck my goddamn cock," growled Golden Tate, glaring at the Saints
wideout. Kenny sputtered -- it took some fuckin' gall for a guy with his
own quarterback's hard prick buried in his ass to try to be hard with him.

But actually, he was already on his knees.

"Unnghh fuck bro, you oughta feel this mother fucker..." Tate groaned as
Kenny took him four inches deep, then six, choking himself on that fat NFL
dick. "This can't be yo' first time, brother!"

"Mmm-hmm," Kenny answered. God, it was everything he'd fuckin' hoped for
and more. The rookie receiver could already tell that from now on, whenever
he didn't have a hard pro jock dick planted down his throat, he'd be
looking forward to the next time he could put one there. Tate's cock was
steel-hard between his lips, hot, thick, wet....just fucking perfect.

When Wilson finally fucked a thick load of cream out of Golden Tate ten
minutes later, Kenny Stills didn't miss a goddamn drop.  Shouda known with
those thick dick-sucking lips the kid's got on him, Russell thought, the
QB's own cock now itching to drive into that tight cherry.

And an hour after that, as Kenny was tugging his tight briefs and jeans
back on, his mind spinning, feeling damn near drunk from his first hard
fuck, he turned to Wilson, still breathing hard.  "You ain't gonna...tell
anybody about this, right?"

Wilson looked over at Tate, the two Seahawks sharing a grin, then turned
back to Kenny. "Don't worry, kid. We'll take good care a' you." Then he
looked down at his phone, selecting the video of Kenny Stills' sex-wrecked
face, lips curled in pleasure as Russell Wilson fucked him for the first
time, then panning down over Kenny's hard body and hard cock bouncing
against his abs to where Russell's incredibly thick cock slid hungrily in
and out of that formerly tight hole. He selected Jimmy Graham's number, and
hit send.

AFC Semifinal - Colts vs. Patriots - Foxborough, MA

It was quickly understood between the three of them with nothing more than
a look. They knew they all felt the same way: it wasn't like they were
disappointed. Far from it, hell, they'd just earned a spot in the AFC title
game, a chance to compete for a Super Bowl ring, who wouldn't be excited
about that? But they knew what all the stories would say the next day:
"Pats Run Over Indy". "Blount Force Trauma". Six New England touchdowns,
all six on the run. And although the Patriots' receivers had played their
part, they couldn't help feeling a little unfulfilled.

Or maybe just a little un...filled.

"Man, I need to get fucked tonight," murmured Danny Amendola. He was
pulling his jock off, his handsome 7-inch prick spilling out half-hard. He
squirmed a little as he undressed, his hand running over the underside of
his balls. The ripped little wideout had a look on his handsome face that
was vaguely unsatisfied.

Julian Edelman was wearing a similar expression as he took off his jersey
and pads, revealing the muscular body bulging into his under-armour
beneath. "Careful where you say that, Dan-o. Might just get your wish."
Edelman massaged his own bare muscle ass. "Not to say I don't feel you..."

Austin Collie, newly picked up for the Patriots' playoff run, was a little
more jazzed after having played a small part in beating his former
team. Most of all he was happy just to feel relevant again. Collie was
still a pretty face and even prettier body, but after the injury troubles
he'd been through, his features had taken on a harder look, more man than
the boy he'd been. Still, he wouldn't have minded a nice, deep fuck
either. He'd first turned to guys in the years after the Colts cut him --
it just hadn't been the same with his wife after that, and the only ones
who really seemed to understand were other football players. Sympathetic
chats at the bar turned into rough, sweaty fucks in the hotel room
upstairs, and before long Austin Collie was a committed horndog for dick.

"I know it ain't really my place," Collie said, pulling on a pair of shorts
over his own mostly-hard 8-inch shaft and over-swollen balls. "But what'd
be the harm in asking around, seeing if somebody might wanna...?"

Danny looked at his new teammate with a skeptical smile.  "So we're gonna
get somebody -- somebody in this very locker room -- to take the three of
us back to his place, fuck us one at a time, the other guys just sitting
there with his hand around his dick and rubbing his tight hole waiting to
get plowed, and at the end of it just call it a night and go home?"

Edelman looked over in silence. Collie shrugged. "Yeah, basically."

A broad grin spread over Danny Amendola's face.

"So who exactly are we talking about here?" Edelman said, feigning
skepticism but already feeling his own cock swelling under his sweatpants.

"Well," Collie started, glancing around the locker room.  His eyes quickly
fixed on one man, normally the center of gravity in New England, the object
of all the reporters' and cameras' attention, but tonight perhaps the only
man who might have felt a little underappreciated himself. "I've always
wondered about Brady."

Now Julian Edelman was grinning too. "I'll get my coat."

***

Rob Ninkovich hadn't waited to leave the stadium before he got started --
he had a wager to cash in on. And when the note was passed to Adam
Vinatieri as he changed in the Colts locker room, his face sank. He didn't
mind giving himself up...he just felt bad for his boys, the special teams
guys he'd slowly introduced to the pleasures of jock-fucking. He figured
they were in for a rude awakening.

And how.

Pat McAfee, for once, made no noise at all as Pats corner Alfonzo Dennard
drove his thick snake inside him in one thrust. Dennard had a nice game,
his early interception setting the tone, and he was amped to help settle
the score with these upstart Colts. And this cute little blond punter's ass
was gonna do just the trick. "Fuck, nice an' tight, shit." Dennard grabbed
McAfee's hip with one hand, holding the dude steady as he got comfortable,
then ran the other hand over his own jacked stomach as he accelerated,
fucking McAfee harder and deeper, his cock seeming to swell fuller as he
kept pumping into the Colt stud's tight hole.

And as Adam turned his head lazily to look to the other side, he saw Griff
Whalen seemed to be taking it OK too. In fact, was that a hint of a smile
on the handsome 23-year-old kid's face as he felt Dane Fletcher steadily
fucking him from behind?


"Fuck!" Griff groaned.

OK, maybe not.  That sounded painful. But fuck, the brown-haired receiver
out of Stanford looked amazing there with his legs spread wide, his round
ass in the air, his beautifully muscled chest and stomach clenching as the
Patriot linebacker fucked him. And hell, he can't be hating it too much,
Adam thought as he caught sight of Whalen's own cock, rising 9 full inches
up the kid's belly, the rock-hard shaft and leaking crown grinding against
his abs as he rocked back onto Fletcher's invading prick.


And Adam was paying his debt too.

"God...fuck yeah..." The veteran kicker looked down to see his cock
drooling onto his abs. God, this guy was good. His eyes flicked
up. Ninkovich was fucking him almost effortlessly, grinning down at
Vinatieri through that scruffy beard. That smile, shit. Ninko could almost
be called cute if he weren't 6-foot-3, 260 pounds of powerfucking
muscle. "You know how to fuck, dude," Vinatieri grunted. He reached up and
ran his palms over the huge Patriot's chest.


"Yeah? Well, heard you know how to take a hard fuck," Rob returned with
another smile.

"Unnghh!" came a moan from the corner. Fletcher had flipped Griff Whalen on
his back and was pounding the kid hard now.


"More'n I can say...for some of your friends..." Ninkovich said,
long-dicking Vinatieri's tight ass now.

"It's his first time," Adam explained, sliding his hands back to run over
his own achingly-hard dick, feeling the precome-slick head. "And looks like
Fletcher's about to pop."


No sooner had he said it than the linebacker groaned and shoved his dick
deep one last time, exploding into Whalen's cherry jock ass. It wasn't all
bad for the kid though -- Griff was coming too, his cock pumping ropes of
cream all over his abs and chest, the biggest load he'd ever fucking shot.


Adam hadn't even noticed but Pat McAfee had already come too, all over the
bed that Dennard had fucked him into, and the two NFLers were, oddly
enough, kissing slow and deep. Wouldn'ta pegged that couple...he thought,
but in his experience of doing this for damn near 20 years now, Adam
Vinatieri had been constantly surprised by what pro jocks went for. With a
few exceptions -- Brady steadily, reliably, year after year, fucked the
prettiest studs on the team.


"Guess we better wrap up too, huh, bud?" For Adam it was almost a game. At
41, Vinatieri was having the best sex of his life. He could come thick
spurts of jizz right now, or he could hold off another hour. The perfect
fuckin' bottom, one of his buddies had called him once, which made the
married father of two chuckle. Now he looked up at Ninkovich, grasping his
dick, teetering on the edge.


"I don't think the bet said I fuck you only once..." the big defenseman
said with a wink, then let his eyes shut as he came hard into Adam
Vinatieri.

***

To nobody's surprise, Tom Brady had been down with the idea.

The New England QB started by properly welcoming the three receivers to one
of his pads in Boston -- a favorite, overlooking the river, essentially a
secret penthouse with a private garage that only a couple of the building
manager's senior execs knew about, even Giselfoodler.com e was not
privy. Brady was a softie in some ways -- he legitimately felt close to his
guys and didn't want em to feel like this was a fuck and run. So Edelman,
who'd been hooking up with his QB since 2009, wasn't surprised when Brady
started by leaning in and kissing him slowly, running his hands from
Julian's neck down over his hard body under his Patriots t-shirt. Then
Danny -- Tom smiled gently at his star receiver, then took Danny's head in
one hand and pulled him in, loving the feel of Danny's warm lips on his,
Danny's scruffy jaw rubbing against Tom's own. Finally, he reached Austin.

"God, you're pretty," Tom murmured, looking into Austin Collie's bright
blue eyes. For his part, Austin was trying to fathom that Tom Brady --
object of fifty million girls' fantasies, paragon and idol for fifty
million guys -- could possibly be interested in him. His teammates had come
to realize that Austin hadn't been screwing around with guys long enough to
figure out just how fucking hot he was. Not to mention that modesty that
seemed hard-wired into Mormon dudes.

For now, Austin smiled nervously. Brady seemed to sense his reluctance;
this wasn't the first time a guy had felt inadequate next to one of the
greatest quarterbacks of his generation. Tom smiled again, then took
Austin's hand and pulled it forward, letting Austin's fingers feel Tom's
hard-on in his jeans, letting Austin curl his grip around Tom's hard
cock. He met Austin's eyes again. "That's for you, bro. I'm rock hard for
you, Austin."

Austin Collie breathed out shallowly, his blue eyes fixed on Brady's. He
tried to process what Tom Brady had just said, the same voice that gave
manly inspirational speeches in pre-game huddles, that confidently
explained passing routes and charmingly deflected questions about his
super-model wife, was now saying he was hard for his new teammate.  "Fuck,"
Austin whispered, then kissed Tom Brady hard. Tom's hands quickly found
Austin's own firm dick, rising handsomely into his navy Patriots track
pants, then slipped under the waistband and grabbed Austin's cock tightly,
feeling out the receiver's hard, hot length.  Brady's other hand had snuck
under Collie's hoodie and t-shirt and the quarterback was hungrily running
his palm and fingers over Collie's firmly muscled midsection and broad,
smooth pecs, loving the heat emanating from Austin's body, the way Austin
tensed under his touch.

Moments later, Tom pulled away, catching Austin's eyes again. He
smiled. "Be right back."

Brady fucked Danny Amendola first. Tom's cock felt as good sliding into
Danny's tight chute now as it had the first time, the Italian stud's
handsome features twisting in pleasure as Brady eased himself deeper.
Danny arched his back, his cobblestone abs rising into prominence as he
lifted his round ass up to meet Tom's thrusts. "God, you feel good,
Danny..." Brady's hands ran uncontrollably over Amendola's muscular torso,
tweaking Danny's nips, making Danny squirm.

"Fuck me, dude..." Danny Amendola breathed. A few feet away, Edelman had
pulled off his shirt and his hand was shoved in his shorts, stroking his
prick steadily, watching Danny get boned. Collie was even harder; the
blond, square-jawed receiver's dick had actually started leaking into his
pants, his palm slicking with pre-come.

Brady was already speeding up, now fucking Danny with firm, quick, deep
strokes. The wideout reached for his cock but Brady grabbed it first,
squeezing it tight at the base, then sliding his fist slowly up Danny's
8.5-inch spike, till he reached just below the wide mushroom head of Danny
Amendola's cock. "What...unghh, fuck...what are you..." Danny sputtered; a
pearl of pre-come formed at the crown of his gorgeous prick, then another
pushed that one out, spilling down the side of his cockhead, and soon there
was a steady flow of clear honey streaming from Amendola's dark red
crown. In ecstasy, or in desperation, Danny grabbed the back of the
bed. His arms swelled with power as he held on. His jaw dropped open.

"Fuck," Julian Edelman whispered, licking his upper lip. He was still
jerking himself hard but he'd shoved off his shorts, Edelman's stiff,
veined 7-incher aching freely into the air. His other hand had moved down
between his legs, and the leading receiver for the New England Patriots was
now obviously stroking and massaging his tight asshole.  Beside him, Collie
had forced himself to let go, his pants tugged to his ankles and his cock
straining angrily into his black trunks, a wet spot spreading across the
front. Austin had long since lost the hoodie and his hands were now on his
own stomach, gripping his abs tight.

"Unghh...fuck..." Danny was on the verge.

"Fuck him, bro," Edelman urged.

"Come for me, Dan," Brady whispered, then let his hand spring into action,
pumping quickly one-two-three over the underside of the sensitive tip, then
Danny Amendola was coming all over his stomach and chest, jizz fucking
fountaining from his cock, every muscle in his body swelling and bulging as
Tom Brady fucked his load out of him.

When Tom pulled his own strikingly hot dick from Danny's still tight hole a
minute later, it was clear he hadn't come -- Brady's dick looked painfully
hard, slick with lube, the fat crown almost purple, thick veins tracking
its length. The quarterback didn't dare touch himself; he was planning
something special.

He caught Edelman's eye next. "Flip over, dude."

Julian Edelman breathed in sharply, his mouth open, eyes shut, as Tom Brady
drove his cock inside him. It was all just a foot from where Collie sat,
still not touching his impossibly hard dick -- Austin could actually see
Brady's long, curving shaft disappear inch by inch inside Edelman's round
muscle ass.

"Aunngh, fuck..." Edelman bit the bedsheets, clenching his teeth as Brady
instantly began fucking him hard, the stud QB pistoning his dick deep into
the receiver's slick jock cunt. Tom Brady had always been partial to Julian
Edelman's ass, and he made it known to the team brass when Edelman's
contract was up last year that if they wanted to keep their champion
quarterback happy, they'd resign #11. Something about Edelman's
hyperactive, sparkplug style of play lit a fire in Brady too, and he found
he could rarely hold himself back when he was all the way deep in Edelman's
hole.

"Mnnhhghhh..."  Edelman's face was buried in the bed now. His back was a
masterpiece of muscle, wide, round shoulders tapering down to a narrow but
still powerful waist, the v-shape of his lats directing the eye down to
where Tom Brady was utterly punishing his teammate's beautiful ass. Brady's
own upper lip was curled in a sneer, loving every moment of this hard, deep
fuck. Sweat glistened on Edelman's lower back, on Brady's chest. At one
point, the muscular receiver tried to lift himself up to his elbows. Brady
growled, "Uh uh..." and pressed both hands down on Edelman's back, using
the leverage to mount his whole body on Edelman's backside and plow his
cock even deeper into his teammate's hole. Edelman moaned in unchecked
ecstasy; now Brady's thrusts were also grinding Edelman's cock between his
hard abs and the soft sheets, and it wouldn't be fucking long now...

"Aughhh FUCK!" Brady kept fucking his receiver even as Edelman's ass
clenched tight around his cock. He loved fucking every last drop of a load
out of Edelman's huge balls, and he wasn't gonna let up till Julian was
exhausted. When finally Edelman stopped driving his ass back onto Brady's
still rock-hard prick, the QB pulled free and let Edelman turn over.

"Jesus..." That was Danny Amendola, who'd already recovered and stiffened
to full arousal again just watching Brady and Edelman fuck. Now he marveled
at the bedsheets soaked in Julian Edelman's come, and the jizz-drenched
expanse of Edelman's upper body, fresh come shining like polished marble on
the pale skin of Edelman's rock-solid pecs and abdominals. Julian himself
was speechless, his mouth hanging open, his cock still hard as it ached
above his tight stomach.

Tom turned to Austin Collie.

Collie swallowed hard. Tom Brady looked like a fucking beast -- nothing
like the guy who'd easily kissed his receivers earlier. This Brady's eyes
were dark, every muscle popping from his body, brown hair disheveled, and
his cock -- fuck, his cock -- Brady looked like he hadn't gotten off in
weeks, that wide, iron-hard, angrily throbbing 9-inch prick strained
desperately into the air, gleaming with lube and pre-come. Collie thought
he could take it, but found himself frozen in place.

"Austin."  Brady's voice jerked Collie's eyes up. He smiled one last
time. "You really are fucking gorgeous," Tom said, his eyes drifting over
Austin's body. Then the smile disappeared from his face. "Now take off your
fucking clothes."

Austin obeyed. He whipped his shirt off first, then pulled his trunks down
as he simultaneously slid back on the bed, his beautifully hard dick
popping free and slapping against his tight abs. Brady instantly climbed on
the bed after him, the QB's own raging-hard cock bobbing and dripping jizz
onto Austin's legs and stomach. Brady was staring down at Collie, fire in
his eyes. He leaned in close.

"I always fucking wanted you, bro," Tom hissed, quiet enough that only
Austin could hear. Collie let his legs spread, felt the hard, hot power of
Brady's dick between them. "Back when you were in Indy...always watched
this tight ass on the field...wanted inside you..." Brady's cockhead had
slipped between Collie's firm cheeks and was massaging that tight
hole. Collie shifted on the bed and Brady's dick rubbed a place right at
his entrance, and Collie's mouth dropped open in pleasure. He shuddered as
Tom licked his neck, the stubble of Tom Brady's beard scratching the
sensitive skin just below Austin's ear. "You were
married...straight...couldn't have you."

Collie's entire body tensed, his abs crunched, his arms flexed, everything
but his perfect ass, which he was trying desperately to relax in
anticipation of what he knew was coming.

"But deep down I knew you wanted this the whole...fucking...time."

Austin Collie gasped, his jaw dropping, as Tom Brady drove his cock to the
hilt in a single thrust. Brady's own lips parted too -- Austin Collie's
jock cunt was perfect. Fucking divine. It enveloped his achingly hard cock
like a tight glove. And smoothly, seamlessly, he began deeply fucking
Austin Collie.

Brady's body was beauty in motion, driving himself into his new receiver
again and again. His eyes were still dark, but as he eased into his steady
rhythm he began to relax, began to feel himself approaching the release
he'd been holding back.  Brady felt the load boiling in his heavy,
overloaded balls, not just the come he'd been building up for a week,
denying himself, focusing his whole body on the game, but the tension, the
stored energy of the endless training and lifting and throwing, all pouring
out into the breathless fuck he was delivering to Collie's perfect asshole.

Austin Collie was beautiful himself, a picture of manhood even as he was
roughly fucked.  Austin's pecs swelled full, his nipples rock-hard on the
peak of each rise of muscle. His stomach rippled with ridges of
definition. Austin's cock was pouring pre-come from the slit, the warm
juice streaming down his long, hard shaft. But nothing compared to his face
-- that model-handsome face, chiseled features, sharp blue eyes staring up
at Tom Brady, totally and perfectly consumed by Brady's cock.

In the distance, Austin could hear Danny Amendola grunting "Fuck...fuck..."
as he came again, pumping another load from his swollen prick. Closer, but
still through Austin's deep fuck-haze, Edelman was gasping, and a moment
later Collie felt hot liquid spray across his abs, then his chest.

Austin tried to hold himself back another few seconds, to prolong this
feeling, but he was already spilling over the edge, intense pleasure
flooding through his body. And as his ripped body seized and he felt his
cock pumping come from deep in his balls, felt the shots splatter against
his chest and neck, Austin looked up to see his new quarterback staring
down at him. Brady's eyes were wide open now, his lips barely parted, and
the two Patriots' eyes met as Brady breathed in sharply and finally came
deep inside Austin Collie.

It must have been a couple of minutes, at least, before Austin finally
opened his eyes. Brady was slowly sliding out of him, leaving behind his
third well-fucked hole of the night but his first thick load. The Pats QB
smiled again, and leaned down over his receiver. The two Pats kissed,
sealing the deal, Brady's come-slick cock sliding over Collie's come-soaked
belly. Then Tom lifted himself back up, looking down at the fucked-out
wideout beneath him, then over to his two other favorite fucks, both of em
sweaty, stroking, half-hard again as they took in the scene.

Brady grinned. "Boys...I think we're gonna make a hell of a team."