Date: Tue, 03 Sep 2002 13:58:47 +0000
From: Bill Drake <billdrake@hotmail.com>
Subject: Peyton's Place, pt. 1

Peyton's Place
Bill Drake (billdrake@hotmail.com)

WARNING: The following is gay erotic fiction explicitly depicting sexual
acts between men. If that offends or disturbs you or is inappropriate for
your age, read no further.

The story is a follow-up to the Post Season party, which itself was a
spin-off of another (anonymous) author's "Quarterback Club" story. The
contents are fantasy fiction and have no relation whatsoever to the real
lives of the persons mentions.

For more of my stories, check out the Authors page of Nifty, or join my
Yahoo group (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/drakestories/), where I hope to
be posting a few extras. Comments to billdrake@hotmail.com.


Peyton's Place
NFL Season
Kickoff

Pt. 1

Drew Brees woke up in Peyton Manning's king-size bed. It was still dark in
the room, but the rookie QB could tell a couple of pieces of prime NFL beef
were sleeping in the same bed, right next to him. Fuck, he was practically
sandwiched between the mass of football-hunk muscle lying on either side of
him. The hot, moist skin and the hard pro-jock flesh felt fantastic against
his own. None of it was Peyton's though. Brees could tell.  The last couple
of months, he and the Indianapolis Colt has been getting it on every
possible opportunity. The muscle he felt in his hands was different and
that cock nestled between his firm quarterback thighs was thicker, fatter
than Peyton's.

Manning had agreed to host this month's QB Club party. Goddamn if last
night wasn't an incredible, Brees thought as he reluctantly extricated
himself from the tangle of pro hunk brawn. And last night was just the
pre-party festivities as most of the men were expected to arrive
today. Like many of the QB Club get togethers, the rules to this one were
stretched to allow non-quarterback guests. Other NFL positions, former QBs,
some of the hotter college players, a couple of the coaches, and even some
baseball stars were expected to come to Manning's mini-mansion. Still, it
was guaranteed that all the hottest quarterbacks in the league would be
there.

Brees wondered who he slept with last night. After ten fucks or so he lost
count of the men, plus the beer had gotten him really drunk after a month
of strict conditioning. No matter, he thought, he knew that the two big
dicked studs in Peyt's bed would be worth another go, whoever they were.
But first he had to do something about the piss hardon that reminded the
young QB of his overfull bladder. Stumbling, not fully awake, he made his
way to the master bathroom.

Aiming his aching hard cock down to the toilet bowl, he let loose with a
powerful stream of beer piss while he threw his head back and let his body
come slowly back into consciousness. It felt good to let it all out.

When he was done, he let go of his dick which sprung up in full morning
hardness. Brees sauntered over in front of the mirror. He took a second to
admire the fine musculature that his conditioning had put on him - firm,
meaty bulges that rippled unencumbered by body fat. Hell, there was barely
any hair on his smooth torso, the stud really looked like a Greek Adonis,
only bigger. His chest and perfect abs were coated in dried sperm. White
flaky splotches everywhere. Brees didn't know if the seed was his own or
not. God, he got fucked good and plenty last night. Drew had looked forward
to joining the NFL and becoming a full-fledged member of the QB Club (his
talents on and off the field had long gained him an honorary college-player
membership). He expected that when he joined, he'd stop being the bottom
boy for the randy QBs in the league and start topping the butch pro stars
he'd fantasized about since his high school days.

Somehow it hadn't worked out that way. So far stud after stud seemed eager
to conquer the rookie's ass. And over the last couple months, Manning
didn't have to do anything more than flash Brees that hot boy-next-door
smile and Drew would spread his legs for his mega-jock fuckbuddy. Why
argue, he thought, when my nuts are getting drained like never before?

Right now he wanted nothing more to wash off the fuck grime that clung to
his skin. He stepped into Peyton's giant shower and let the steam and hot
water envelop him. He closed his eyes and his cock surged at the memory of
the last time Peyton screwed him in the shower. Where was Peyton anyway?
Brees wondered.

"Good idea, stud," a voice intoned behind him. It was Ed McCaffrey,
wide-receiver for the Denver Broncos. "Mind if I join you?"

The San Diego Charger jock-hunk turned his head around and took in the
beautiful sight of McCaffrey's tall, sinewy 6'5" frame stepping into the
steam of the shower. Not an ounce of fat, a perfectly sculpted piece of
man. And what caught Drew's attention was a nine-inch half-hard club
swinging between McCaffrey's legs.

"Fuck, Ed!"  Brees growled. "That dick looks like it could do damage. How
big does that fucker get anyway?"

Ed wrapped his brawny receiver arms around the young hunk. "Jesus, Brees,
dontcha remember anything from last night? You must have had a go at my
Bronco buster four or five times. Took turns with a couple of guys from the
team. You couldn't get enough."

A crimson blush spread over Drew's cute jock face.  He felt like a slut but
he could barely remember anything after 10 PM. The last thing he recalled
was Trent Dilfer sucking his cock while he watched Drew Bledsoe and Scott
Covington going hot and heavy on Peyton's living room couch.

McCaffrey could read the embarrassment on Drew's face. He held the hot jock
tight as his hands went down to explore the perfect, round buns. "Don't
worry stud, Eddie knows how you feel. Been there myself. How bout I help
you remember what we did?"

Instinctively, Drew nodded and reached down between his legs to feel the
hard scepter of wide-receiver dick that throbbed in a now-erect state.  It
was like a fucking crowbar, hard, smooth and a good eleven inches in
length.

The two men met in a hot, wet, sloppy kiss while each athlete used his
strong hands to knead and explore the muscles on the other. "Mmmh, stud,"
Ed groaned between deep tongue probes, "why don't you get down and suck
that hard baby?"

"UMMNGMMHHN!" was all Ed could hear as Brees sunk his hot QB throat on his
wet, aching meat. This rookie was a grade-A cocksucker, the way he wrapped
his lips around McCaffrey's Bronco buster was driving him wild. Still, Drew
was unable to take more than seven or eight inches of cockflesh into his
gullet. Hell, he wanted to deepthroat the magnificent prick standing proud
between Ed's firm thighs. Wanted to make this man happy.

"Shit, stud," the older man muttered. "You were sucking better than that
last night. Here, let me help you." With that he grabbed Brees' head in his
hands and held it still as he skull-fucked his pro-ballplayer cock in and
out of the kid's hot mouth. "Shit! That's more like it, buddy. Open up for
daddy like you did last night. Yeah, getting all my rod down your tight
throat, all fucking eleven inches of it."

While McCaffrey was having his way with Drew, his teammate QB Brian Griese
walked into the master bathroom.  Standing with his powerful legs apart and
his hands on his hips, he pissed in a straight arc into the toilet while
listening to the two studs get in on in the shower behind him. Fortunately
he finished the job before his dick got too hard.

Ed looked over at Brian and soaked in the sight of the man's wonderful
backside. Beefy, sculpted delts and lats, billowing down to a slim waist
and a meaty jock butt that always drove McCaffrey mad with lust. Ever since
Brian came to the pros the ex-Michigan star decided to become strictly top,
but John Elway would still call him over to his house in the Denver suburbs
and have the cocky jock on his back and legs in the air in no time.  Not
many guys could pass up a good ride on Elway's mega-hung fuckstick. Some
nights, McCaffrey would get a call asking him if he'd like to come over and
do double duty on Griese's upturned ass. Yeah, those nights alone were what
made pro ball worth playing.

Just thinking about mounting that mountain of quarterback jockflesh had
McCaffrey blowing his gasket in no time. With a loud yell, he mauled the
flesh in Drew's thick shoulders and held his cock long and deep inside the
kid's throat as his nuts gave up their hard-earned juice. Brees mumbled and
grunted, his gullet full of cock as he swallowed every magnificent drop.

"Jesus, Ed." Brian said, stepping into the shower to join the two men. "You
should go easy on the rookie. Don't want to wear out a good starter
quarterback."

"Ah, the guy can take it. Fuck, he likes it, dontcha Brees?" he gently
tousled Drew's dirty blonde hair that was dripping from the shower spray
that cascaded over the three men's hard, naked bodies.

"Yessir," Brees replied. "But is that all we did last night, Ed? A suck
job? I was kinda hoping..."

Ed smiled a huge, lusty grin looking down at this hot specimen of jockflesh
on his knees in front of him. "Hoping what, kid? That your hot little
bubblebutt got some of this McCaffrey meat riding it? Fuck, that's why we
brought you back to Peyt's private bedroom, so we could take turns on your
hot jock ass."

"Yeah," Griese interjected.  "We don't know how you keep that hole so
tight, but it's the best damn mancunt in the NFL, bar none."

Drew blushed in embarrassment and swelled in pride at the same time. He
relished the thought of getting plowed again by Griese's large member. Ever
since Brian had gone pro, he'd transformed from young jock-next-door to
full-fledged, full-bodied NFL stud. Drew wished he could remember last
night's fuckfest better. As it was, he had to content himself with the feel
of Brian's hard cock gripped tightly in his hand.  Brees began a slow
stroke on that Bronco meat, getting it boned good and hard for what he
really wanted. A full-on morning shower fuck.

Drew didn't ask. He turned his jock bod around to show Griese his sinewy
backside and that perfect young-stud butt. With determination, he pried
Griese's prick to a perpendicular level and ran the slick head deep in the
cleft between his ass cheeks.

"Fuck, boy!" Brian hissed. "You have one hell of an ass."

"Take it, Brian," cried the young QB, his torso leaning forward into
McCaffrey's tall frame and his legs spreading apart to center his pucker
right at Brian's fat, horny dickhead.

"Oooh, yeah," the Bronco playcaller hissed as that fine sphincter opened up
for his rod. Five inches of pro cock sunk effortlessly in. "Damn fine ass,
McCaffrey," he said to his teammate.


"Hell, I know, Brian. The stud was meant to be fucked."

"Fucking right, Ed, the cunt was meant for NFL dick, and that's what it's
gonna get." Griese pushed his hips forward, clenching his taut buttcheeks
as four more inches piledrived their way past the kid's clenching asslips.

"Shit! Bone me, sir! Show this rookie cunt how a real pro fucks his boys."
Brees was really working up into a frenzied sweat now. His shoulders
battered against McCaffrey with each thrust, and he was hitting the man
like it was a sacking dummy at practice. "Pound that hole. Make me feel
your balls slapping my butt.  Yeah, I can feel those babymakers now, so
full of jizz. Waiting to fuck it all into me, aren't ya Brian?"

"Yeah, Brees, holding my nut so I can really enjoy this fuck. You're too
good, stud. Ride that fucking Bronco cock!"

"Dick me Griese!"

"Oh, hot fuck! That tight hole's really working my bone, man. Gotta plug
this butt more often stud. Maybe visit you in San Diego from time to time."

"Sounds hot, Bri... " Drew was shivering in a hot sexual sweat. Griese
really knew how to work his young NFL snatch like nothing else. The
quarterback's hands held onto Drew's hips while he sawed a large piece of
valuable cock in and out of the stud's smooth rectum.


Brees was now slobbering in heat on McCaffrey's lean chest. The taller
player pushed the other up so that their faces were next to one another.


"Having fun, kid?" Ed asked.

Panting, Brees answered in affirmative.  "Yeah, man, this is
incredible. Love that big dick, that hot heavy fuck. You Bronco boys are so
fucking big."

"Shit, guy, you forgot about the boys still in Peyton's bed."

Brees stuttered in incomprehension, as well as from the wind getting
knocked out of him by Brian's rough thrusts. The large QB fucker was now
muttering a rant of slurred, crazed fuck talk as he pounded Drew's hole.

"Others?" Brees asked.

"Yeah, Brees. You really don't remember last night do ya?"

"No sir," the athlete said sheepishly.


McCaffrey pulled his body tight against Brees and wrapped his arms around
both men, reaching back to grab Griese's thrusting ass. Damn, McCaffrey
always loved feeling Brian's stud ass. His hard cock pressed insistently
into Drew's, their chest muscles touched. The wide-receiver loved feeling
the hard, smooth pec muscle rubbing his tits.

"Feel that?" Ed asked.

"Yeah. Fucking big dick." Brees began licking at Ed's handsome rugged
face. The two men half-kissed while they talked, their tongues teasing each
other.

"That's how you like them, don't you, Brees? Big Bronco cock."

"Yep, man, that thing's huge, bigger than Brian's even."

"Want it next?"

"Fuck yeah!"

"Gonna let Eddie take a ride?"

"Mmmh," Brees moaned into Ed's mouth while the two locked lips.

"Oh, man, I can tell you like the idea as much as I do. Only problem is
Brian here knows how to last. He likes to settle into a fuck for the long
haul. Isn't that right, Griese?"

"Sure as shit!" Brian grinned at Ed over the kid's shoulder.  "Especially
when the ass is this sweet. Gonna have to ride this one for a while."

"What do you think about showing Drew here our Double Bronco Bustin'
special?"

"Yeah, bet he would love it. Let's get out of this shower and get this stud
back into the bedroom."

"Fuckin' A!" Ed shouted as the two Broncos prepared stage two in Drew
Brees' wake-up fuck.


************

The sunlight coming in through the living room window woke Tim Couch
up. His hard muscles were slightly sore from last night's exertion. Fuck,
if this hadn't been the best QB Club party Couch had been to yet. And they
had a whole two more days of ballbusting fuck action to look forward
to. Couch looked over to his fuck and suck buddies from the previous
evening, Danny Wuerffel and Jake Plummer. The two muscled men were dozing
soundly on the floor where they'd crashed after a late night screw. Couch
admired their hard bodies, still tightly pressed together as the men's
brawny arms wrapped around the other. A tempting sight for the Cleveland
star, but Couch decided to let his buddies sleep. Besides there was a whole
house of studly football meat to seek out. Excited by the thought, Couch
got his burly-lean frame off the sofa and found his pair of Cleveland
Browns mesh shorts. Slipping them on, he realized his fat hardon was
pushing up hard on the waistband. With his passing hand, he tried to
rearrange the thick slab of NFL dickmeat until he realized it was
futile. "Fuck it," he thought, "Better to advertise your assets anyway."
Groping his crotch he wondered where Peyton was, maybe he could find his
long time SEC bud and relive some old times.

Tim wandered down the hall. In the spare rooms on each side, he could see
piles of hot, fuckable NFL beef piled on beds, on couches, all over the
floor. All bucks spent and recharging for another day of partying. Finally,
he walked into Peyton's kitchen to find Jason Sehorn making a pot of
coffee. The New York Giants defensive back had just finished his morning
shower and stood in the middle of the modern kitchen clad only in the white
towel wrapped around his waist. The 6'2", 210# hunk had kept his waist slim
and his body fat count to near zero, so that Couch was greeted with the
sight of Sehorn's sculpted back tapering down to a cloth-covered
bubblebutt.

"Goddamn, Sehorn, tell me some of that coffee has my name on it. Fuck, what
a night!"

The older player turned around. "Hey Couch. Didn't know you were here
yet. Was hoping you'd be here." He poured Tim a cup of joe, along with his
own.

"Yeah, stud?" Tim had held a crush on the Giants hottie for some time
now. And since Jason's conditioning program, he was that much hotter.

"Yeah. You were too busy at the last party reaming that blonde college kid
from Texas..."

"Chris Simms?"


"Yeah, that one. Hot little fuck. Anyway, I didn't get my chance with you."

Couch smiled at the defensive lineman as he reached underneath the slim
towel that barely met at the top of Sehorn's bulging leg. Tim felt the
freshly moist flesh of Jason's thighs before his hand gripped the large
erection trapped between the man's legs.

"I got all morning now, hell all day," Tim said, his hand exploring Jason's
cock. A sizeable piece of equipment, the tool felt nice and hot in Couch's
hand.

Sehorn purred as the Browns player rubbed his horny prick. He reached
around the hunky athlete with both hands and slid his hands under the
material of Couch's shorts. Feeling the bare flesh of Tim's ass, he groaned
in appreciation and started rubbing and kneading the firm mounds of butt.

"Man, Couch, that's one hot ass you got. Just ready to be boned, if you
asked me." Sehorn cocked his eyebrow up, half as question, half as
declaration. He wanted this butt.

"Sorry, man, I don't bottom."

"That's not what Peyton says." Sehorn reached further in, rubbing his
fingertips up and down Tim's crack.

"Peyton's full of shit," Couch replied, causing the two men to
laugh. "Besides..."

"Yeah?"

Tim caressed and squeezed the oversized fucktube in his grip. "This cock
definitely needs to be sucked. And you're in luck. This top loves to suck
dick."

He wasn't lying. In no time flat, the 25-year-old was on the floor
hoovering the most perfect prick he'd encountered in the longest time. It
was long and perfectly proportioned, not too skinny and not too fat for Tim
to get his welcoming throat wrapped around the meat. Best of all, it was a
leaker. Tim really liked leakers.

Couch had been working on Sehorn's joint for about ten minutes when he felt
someone's body next to his. Pulling off Jason's cock he saw it was Derek
Jeter.

"Mind if I share with you, buddy?" the fresh-faced baseball star asked
before licking at the spit-slick cock that stood before both men. Couch
looked up and saw that three of Jeter's teammates were with him. Roger
Clemens and Paul O'Neil both stood silently watching Derek now suck
Sehorn's dick like the pro he was. Behind them stood Drew Hensen, the
Michigan QB who'd dropped his football career and signed on with the
Yankees. He was still proving himself in the subsidiary teams of the minor
leagues, but already the top players had welcomed him into their social
circle. Hell, his sexual prowess and staying power were legendary and the
many football jock friends that Hensen had made him especially popular
among the group of mostly bottom dickhound baseball athletes.

Tim stood up next to his football buddy and watched in amazement as gruff,
stocky Clemens got down on his knees to start licking Couch's quarterback
dick.

"Mmmh, yeah, guy, suck that baby. Wrap those lips around my hard jock meat
and eat it."  Coach urged Roger on by grabbing a fistful of the man's hair
and guiding his head along the length of his own hard shaft. "Take it!" he
groaned to the pitcher.

Drew meanwhile had assumed the position behind Clemens. Jeter had been the
first of the champion team, to offer up his bubble butt to the hung stud,
but while Drew always loved riding Jeter butt, right now he was in the mood
for something different. Roger's juicy ass, which he slurped noisily away
at. His ministrations on Clemen's hole just made the star pitcher suck more
wildly at Couch's erection, eager to coax a full load out of his
football-player nuts.

Henson's eager rim job was matched tongue stroke for tongue stroke by
O'Neil who did his duty on Jeter's upturned ass. With his long tongue, he
made full, wide swaths with each lick, wetting the cute jock's ass, getting
it ready for his long pole.

Sehorn put his arm on Tim's meaty shoulder and hoarsely whispered into in
his ear. "Tim, bud, I'm enjoying the hell out of this suck job, but it's
your ass I really want.  What about it?"

Tim looked nervously at Jason. It wasn't often he bent over, even for a
hunk like Sehorn. Still, he couldn't help but be turned on by the
incredible body and amazing dick. He watched as that cock disappeared
inside Jeter's hot mouth then reappeared on the upstroke. It was nice and
juicy and the right size for fucking.

"Fuck, Jason," Tim whispered back, "watching Jeter suck that dick of yours
is getting me hot. You sure you can take it easy on a jock ass like mine?
It's been a while."

"Don't worry, stud, it'll be nothing but pleasure for you. I know how to
take care of a jock ass. Especially one as perfect as yours."

By now O'Neil and Henson were plugging away at their respective teammates,
each longdicking the cocksucker in front of him.

Tim surveyed the scene and turned his head back to Jason. "Well, OK. But
not in front of these guys."

Sehorn leaned back and examined Couch's round, muscular glutes. He dropped
his arm and put an appreciative hand on the twin mounds of jock
power. "Man, I don't think I can wait. You're too fucking hot, Couch."

"No problem. Peyt showed me a small private room upstairs. I think these
guys can take care of themselves."

The two men pulled their dicks out of the Yankees players' hungry
mouths. Seeing that the two footballers were leaving, Jeter and Clemens
began to suck face while their behinds got pummeled by their equally hungry
tops. As Couch and Sehorn walked around the men, they saw O'Neil's arm
possessively claiming Drew's butt, his hand snaking its middle finger up
Henson's hole while the two fucked away.

Tim led Jason to the small bedroom in the back of the house, which
fortunately was empty. Couch had barely opened the door when Sehorn pushed
him inside the room and slammed the door shut behind them. He was ready to
take this jock ass.


************



Meanwhile, deep groans were echoing up from the basement workout room. They
were Peyton Manning's. He stood in the middle of his squat rack, his hands
tied to the metal beams, holding his muscular body securely in place. He
was in a semi-conscious sex haze, only partly able to register the sight of
his own reflection in the mirror in front of him. Or maybe it wasn't his
state of mind blocking his view - the mirror was coated in a thick layer of
football-stud splooge and there were only several spots where Manning could
make out an image through the milky-white liquid.

A jolt of electricity shot through his body and automatically the big, cute
lug of a quarterback spread his legs. "Yeah!" he heard behind him. It was
Kurt Warner, looking on approvingly as some other stud munched on Peyton's
ass. This had been going on all night. It started with QB Club alums John
Elway and Boomer Esaison tying the Colt stud up and then going to town on
his cute, fuckable ass, licking and eating out that hole til it was loose
and relaxed, then drilling in their hot quarterback tongues, depositing
their frothy manspit while Manning thrashed and cursed in sexual ecstasy.
They went at it for at least two fucking hours, til they decided that their
top duties were needed elsewhere. Other studs in the room quickly took
over, tongue-fucking Peyton's sweet hole in succession, making sure to wet
up it up good with their hot saliva and teasing the multi-million dollar
assring with their teeth, tongue and lips.

By now, Manning was babbling incoherently. His turgid prick swung wildly in
front of him. That tongue drilling him had to be the longest, hottest
tongue in the NFL, it was really going long and deep on his ass. Warner
watched as Peyton's nice, round balls drew up in their mansac, getting
ready to blow. "That's it Kerney! Get in there deep. So fucking
hot. Peyt-boy here's about to blow again... Yeah, fuck, he's shooting,
man." Atlanta Falcons linebacker Patrick Kerney just pushed his face in
deeper into Manning's perfect, deep crack and extended his tongue deep into
the football star's rectum.

"Fuck!" Manning yelled at the top of his lungs as his cock twinged and his
balls churned in another mega eruption. Warner really got off on watching
Manning shoot his QB wad.  He'd stumbled down in the basement workout area
about 1 AM, so had missed half this hot rim action, but he'd watched as
Peyton pumped four loads, each one as thick and rich and white as the
next. Warner loved fresh jock sperm, especially when it came from a stud as
cute as Manning. He wanted to walk over to that mirror and lick it from top
to bottom, but thought he better wait. The night wasn't quite over after
all.

As Manning came down from his ball-draining cum, Kerney slowly and
regretfully removed his mouth from the guy's hot hole. He'd love another go
at making the man shoot, but realized other studs wanted their turn. Still
holding Manning's bubble cheeks apart, he looked at the gash before him and
that beautiful hole. He hawked a load of saliva in his mouth and spit it
straight onto Peyton's hole. With a quick swath of the tongue, he lapped
the ring, pushing his spit right into the guy's now super-sensitive rectum.

Kerney stood up, his huge 6'5" linebacker frame only slightly more imposing
than his red, swollen erect cock. "Next!" he called.

Warner smiled like a kid in a candy store and replied, "My turn, Kerney."

"Go to it, Kurt. He's good for at least two more, I think."

Warner bent down on his knees and got into position. Man, that ass was
beautiful - round, musky and really wet from the night's rim job
procession. Kurt didn't waste any time, he grabbed the slick melons of
assflesh and parted them, allowing his face to dive right in.

Kerney may have had the longest tongue in the league, but Warner's was by
far the fattest. "Shit, Kurt!" Manning cried. "Tongue my fucking hole!
Yeah, that tongue's so thick, it's as fat as a cock. That's it buddy,
stretch it out, feed my ass!"

For the next half hour, Kurt obeyed Manning's orders, matching the guy's
hot fuck talk with an expert tongue job. When he was done, the hole was
nice and sloppy and dripping with his fresh saliva, not to mention the
saliva of half the studs invited to the party.

"OK, boy, party time." Kurt stood up and surveyed the studly figure in
front of him.  His hard thick dick raged proudly between his massive hairy
thighs.  Menacingly, he grabbed the fat cock in his powerful quarterback
hands and started a slow jerking movement while Peyton looked over his
shoulder and gulped at seeing the girth of Warner's fuck-monster.

The hulky Ram, meanwhile, had his eyes on Peyton's magnificent ass. Two
round pieces of lily-white sculpted muscle. His rough callused hand
caressed the taut muscle, then wedged itself deep in the moist, spit-slick
crack of the host.  God, it was hot! Manning's asscheeks flexed and
clenched around Warner's hand trapping it deep in the heat and wetness of
his mangash. Peyton's cock gave another stir and another dribble of
pre-fuck juice as he felt the stud quarterback's hand touch his now-relaxed
sphincter.

"Shit, yeah," the cute jock hissed as Warner's thick digit probed its way
past the anal ring.


"Mmmh..." Warner growled, "Nice and wet." Hours of pro rim jobs by all of
NFL's finest had left Peyton's mancunt dripping with jock spit. With each
push of Kurt's finger, more saliva oozed out, coating Warner's hand and
dripping to the floor. He tried to push the lubrication back inside
Manning, but more juice flowed out. "Shit, buddy, you got the hottest damn
jock ass.  I don't know why I haven't fucked this beauty before."

With that Warner grabbed his stiff cock and slathered countless men's
spit-lube on his horny jockstick. When he put the swollen head in the
crevice of Peyton's asslips, he already thought he'd died and gone to
heaven. That hole was sucking him in, opening up and teasing his prick with
the hottest, wettest fucking ass kisses a top could dream of.

"Man, Peyt, you really want this, don't ya?"

"Yeah, bud. Fuck it, Kurt, fuck my hot ass! I've been needing this all
night long. Fuck me!"

Three inches of Warner's hugely wide prick was already sinking its way into
Manning's guts. "I'm already in buddy. Hot fucking ass!" Peyton moaned and
leaned his head back onto Warner's broad shoulder. His tight, muscular body
shook as the Rams starter pushed more cockmeat into his new fuckbuddy.

The two worked themselves into a full-on fuck. Warner decided to start slow
and steady, letting Peyton get used to the formidable girth. Still,
occasionally an intense sexual urge would spread through his body and he'd
have to grab onto Peyton's hips or his thighs or wrap his arms around
Peyton's broad chest while he pummeled the spit-slick butt.

These bursts of energy would drive Manning wild, his nuts would tighten up,
his dick would bounce, his whole body would shake. Just when he thought he
was about to cum, Warner would resume a regular pace, massaging Manning's
guts and licking the salty, sweaty skin of the quarterback's neck and
shoulders.

What Warner was doing to Peyton's prostate was beyond compare. Each inward
thrust ran full and hard over the guy's buttnut, causing him to groan and
leak even more.  Suddenly, without warning, on one brutal fuckstroke,
Manning's cock surged and stiffened to a magnificent length, while his nuts
pumped out another thick, creamy spray of stud splooge. Over and over his
dick sprayed its wad while his rectum contracted and dilated repeatedly on
Warner's oversized shaft.

"Goddamn, Peyt, that's it! OH, squeeze that cunt, buddy. Fuck, I'm feeling
it too.  This ass is so goddamn hot. So fucking tight and snug. Gotta blow,
too buddy." Warner ground his hips forward, impaling Manning's pert
musclebutt with his rod. Holding his stud-fuck tight, he let loose his
seed, hosing Peyton's asswalls with his wet deposit. His eyes shut as he
savored the best orgasm he'd had in a while.

When the two men were done with their orgasm, they held themselves still,
sweat dripping off both football god's hulk.


"I bet you want to take a break, huh?" Warner asked.

The young star looked back over his shoulder and sighed in fucked-out
fatigue. "Yeah, Kurt, it's been a hell of a night."

Warner removed his cock. Halfway. Then deliberately, he screwed it back in,
using his powerful ass muscles to rotate his thrust create a corkscrew
motion in Manning's well-churned QB guts.

"Jesus! Warner, what the fuck...?"

"Are you sure, Manning? Sure you don't want another go?"

"Man, Kurt, I can't...I...fuck!" Another corkscrew jab with Warner's
mammoth slab.

"The hell you can't. I'm in the hottest ass in the NFL right now, and I'll
be damned if I'm backing out of it now."

Just then the men could hear the door bell ring. The first new guest of the
morning. Warner turned around to San Francisco 49er Tim Rattay, who was
watching the heated fuck from the sidelines while getting his dick sucked
by cockhound Trent Dilfer.

"Tim. Trent. One of you guys go get the door. Tell them the host is busy
right now."

Peyton just grunted hungrily as Kurt resumed his pile-drive fuck.


(to be cont.)