Date: Sun, 17 May 1998 09:51:15 -1000
From: John Clark <janc55@hgea.org>
Subject: Jock-sucker Chapter 6

Chapter 6

	Dak Rollins squirmed in the molded plastic chair.  He'd hoped to
get one of the stuffed chairs or sofas, but when he entered the library the
comfortable seats were already taken.  His choices were these damn Danish
monsters near the magazine racks, or a straight chair at one of the long
tables.  And he couldn't see the main entrance as well from the study
tables.  Ah, forget it, he thought.  Concentrate on the sights.  Fact is,
Dak liked the library.  Not only was it a never-ending source of materials
for his class projects and term papers, it was also the best place for
people-watching on campus.  Widdie'd said to meet him here at four o'clock,
and it was almost that now.  So, if this wasn't to be a study trip, it
might as well be a watching trip.  He told himself that it was really both.
Dak's major was cultural anthropology.  And what was people watching if not
cultural anthropology?
	He squirmed again.  This time it was his conscience not his butt
that was complaining.  Let's face it, he told himself, what I'm looking for
is hot bods.  Chicks still had halters on, even this far into the autumn.
And every now and then he'd see a guy who was so well build that it took
his eye, made him speculate.  Funny, though.  He'd spent a lot less time
scoping out the sexy folk this semester.  Well, no.  Not so funny.  Kid's
taking such fine care of me that I don't have any energy left for aimless
horniness, he mused.
	When he thought about Yon, his brow furrowed.  Something bothered
him about the guy.  He was a great jogging buddy, all right.  He might be
short in the leg, but he also weighed a lot less, so he kept up with Dak,
no problem.  In fact, sometimes Dak thought the kid was sandbagging, that
he could have scooted on ahead, easy.  But he seemed content enough to hang
back with the bigger man.
	What was getting kind of weird, though, was when they finished
their run and went on to Dak's pad.  Day after day the kid sucked him off.
Sometimes more than once a session.  But he didn't ask for anything for
himself - never stripped like Dak did, or beat his meat, or looked like he
wanted Dak to return the favor.  Nothing.  Just sort of did his business,
and that was that.  Hell, Dak figured, who was he to argue.  Ugly as shit
on a stick, he was damn lucky to have somebody around who was willing to
service him.  Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off
kilter.  It didn't add up.  He wished he knew how to bring it up with the
guy.  Maybe if they could talk about what they were doing together.  But
right from the start, talking about their sexual activities seemed to be a
no-no.
	It wasn't like the kid was deaf and dumb, either.  They talked
about everything else, no problem.  He'd really seemed elated when Dak told
him about his gig with the Dill Foundation.  And he caught on quick
whenever Dak started talking anthropology.  He didn't seem to lack for
understanding, even if to listen to his accent you'd think he'd just got
off the boat!  Fact is, ol' Yon was a real sharp fella.  And a nice one.  A
really nice one...
	"Wake up!"
	"You sumbitch!  You came in the side door."  Dak looked around to
see if anybody was near enough to catch the action if he hauled off and
punched his adopted brother.  He decided he'd better not, and got up to
follow Widdie who was already loping off toward the big front doors.
	"Where you takin' me, man?"
	"Field house."
	"For?"
	Widdie swiveled his head toward Dak.  He grinned.  "Want you to
meet somebody.  And speaking of somebodies, how's yours?"
	"Whaddaya mean, how's mine?"
	"C'mon, bro.  You told me a couple of weeks ago you was gettin' it.
In fact you said 'great sex', is what you said.  Yes indeedy, you did."
	Dak blushed a deep purple.
	"So?"  Widdie pressed.
	"Hey, I never said there was a 'somebody' did I?"
	Widdie slowed to a walk.  Turned again to Dak.  "Bro, I know there
is.  I heard from other sources.  Seems like things are fine for you.  Is
that wrong, what I heard?"
	"No.  Okay.  Look, Widdie... uh, there's a guy, okay?  There's a, I
guess you could say a cocksucker, and he's been doin' me.  Doin' me good,
too.  Best I ever had."
	"All riiight!  That is fine, my brother.  I'm damn glad to hear
it."
	"Doesn't bother you that it's a guy, 'stead of a chick?"
	"Bother me!?!  Get real!"  Widdie paused, then, "So, you doin' him,
too?"
	"Shit no, man!  First place, I wouldn't know how.  Second place, he
doesn't seem to be interested in anything but blowin' me.  To be honest,
it's gettin' kinda uncomfortable.  I feel like I owe him something back,
you know?"
	"Maybe he's afraid to let you see how he feels.  What he wants.
Yeah.  Maybe he's afraid that if he looks interested in anything but pure
sex, you'll think he 'likes' you, and you'll kick him out."
	"Why would I kick him out if he liked me?  I like him!  Fact, I
like him a lot."
	"Didja tell him that?"
	"Uh..."
	"Oh, and by the way, what do you mean he's blowin' you.  That ain't
literal, right?  I mean, this is me, bro.  I grew up in the next bed to
that dick of yours.  Ain't nobody could get that past their lips and over
their gums."
	"He does.  And down the throat.  All the way - teeth to the pubes,
man!"
	"Do you realize that's impossible?  At least it's impossible unless
he's dislocatin' his jaw for ya?  No.  I guess you wouldn't realize it, if
you ain't givin' head."
	"Throwin' out his jaw?  On purpose, you mean?  Jesus..."  Dak fell
silent.
        
  
	The two men walked in on the sights and sounds of bodies in motion
as young men and women of the gymnastics teams pranced, cavorted, spun and
twirled at one end of the barn-like building.
	"C'mon, down this way."  Widdie led the way past a group of young
women vigorously attacking the uneven parallel bars and the balance beam.
Further on, several men were in a line, following one another through a
parallel bar exercise.  Widdie came to a halt at the edge of the floor.
"Pretty, ain't it?"  he asked, grinning down at Dak.  He tilted his head to
indicate the line of thinly clad athletes.
	Dak laughed.  "Ain't it, or ain't they, you ol' hornydog?"
	"Hey!"  Widdie said, feigning hurt.  "I'm a pure and good citizen.
'Kay, watch this one just starting his run..."  The tall man was intent on
the athlete approaching the bar.
	"The Mexican?"
	"Yeah.  Except he's Chinese, you ignorant savage.  Ooh, yeah!!!
Lookit that form."
	"How you meanin' that, bro?  Look at the fine execution of the
gymnastic maneuver?  Or look at the fine spread of lats taperin' down to a
firm, round ass?"
	"Now, shut up!"  Widdie said, laughing with delight.  "Hey, Wu," he
called, waving at the athlete as he came up out of his roll.  The youth
looked up and grinned, waved back, and came trotting up to the two friends.
	"Dennis Wu, Dak Rollins."
	"Howya doin'," Dak said, extending his hand to the newcomer.  He
noticed that Widdie's hand had curled possessively over the boy's shoulder.
"You look awful good out there."
	"Hey, thanks, Mr. Rollins.  If I get where I look even half as good
in here as you look out on the field, I'll be happy as a clam."
	Dak laughed.  "If you talk that sweet, you better call me Dak.
How'd you run afoul of this ugly mess?"  he asked, pointing at the tall
basketball player standing close up behind the young man.
	"Dunno.  I found it stuck on my gym shoe a couple days ago.  Can't
seem to get rid of it."  Wu craned his neck to look around and up at
Widdie.  "Maybe I'll hang onto it, though.  It tastes kind of good."  It
was Widdie's turn to blush.  He and Wu exchanged a long glance.  Dak looked
away, his eyes following the line of gymnasts still queued up for a run at
the parallel bar.
	"Shit!  What the hell is he doin' here?"  Dak stared at the men on
the floor.  Ion, dressed only in gym trunks, had come from behind the
stands, and was mounting the pommel horse.  "Dennis, you know that guy?"
He gestured toward the curly-haired youth.
	The other men looked where Dak was pointing.
	"Well... yeah.  Sure.  Why?"
	"That's my running buddy.  That's Yon."
	"Right.  Ion Tadescu.  The main man on this team."  Wu and Widdie
traded bewildered looks.
	"Oh, fuck," Dak gasped.  "Oh, fuck me."  As the other men watched,
the blood drained from his face.  "Tadescu.  Eeon Tadescu.  I-o-n.  God.
He told me his name was Yon, and I said, 'like in yonder', and he said he
guessed so.  He didn't tell me his last name.  I been...  uh, I been
joggin' with a probable Olympic medalist, and I never made the connection.
Shit.  Man. I. Am. An. Asshole!"  He felt as devastated as he looked.
	"Dak, don't worry about it."  Wu laid a hand on Dak's arm.  "Ion's
the most unassuming man in the world.  He honestly thinks nobody recognizes
him.  And he doesn't want them to.  He's probably glad if you don't know
who he is.  And you were saying his name okay, just spelling it wrong in
your head."
	One by one as they finished their turn at the bars, the gymnasts
had paused and gathered around the pommel horse to watch the twirling
Romanian.  Dak could easily see over their heads.  He watched, rapt as his
Babylamb circled on a single pommel, his muscles standing out in sharp
relief.  The tufts of black in the boy's armpits showed vividly against his
ivory skin.
	Blood roared in Dak's ears.  He was gripped by an emotion stronger
than any he'd ever felt.  His man!  Damn!  His man!  He felt all the usual
desire that Ion's incredible mouth engendered in his loins, and more.  And
something else...  what?  Something.  He couldn't think.  Ion spun
effortlessly over the horse.  No sound could be heard at this end of the
hall but the slap of the youth's hands on the leather.  Dak awoke to the
fact that he was on the verge of a massive erection.  Gotta chill, he
thought.  Gotta get out of here.
	"Hey, guys.  I gotta go.  Dennis, I'm real glad I met you." He
grinned at Widdie.  "Pretty sure I'll see you again.  Do me a favor will
ya?  If you get a chance to talk to Ion, tell him we're running this
evening, same time, same place."  He barely heard Wu's assurance as he
skittered away and out of the building.
	Widdie and Wu stood at the back of the crowd, everyone watching the
outstanding performance of the star athlete.  Widdie let his hand slide
slowly down Wu's back.  His fingertips met the elastic band of the gym
shorts and burrowed in under.  In a moment his large, basketball-spanning
hand was stretched over one firm buttock.  Not satisfied, his fingers crept
with a delicious slow motion into the sweat-moistened crack of Wu's ass.
He stroked his fingers up and down.  Widdie felt Wu shiver beneath his
hand.  But when the middle finger found and began to gently probe the
puckered anus, Wu gave his head a slight shake.  Widdie slid his hand out
of the concealing sweat pants.  Darting a glance around to verify their
continued privacy, the tall man contented himself with a quick lick in the
groove behind Wu's ear.
	"I'll be off, too, baby.  Like the man said, same time, same
place?"  Wu smiled and nodded.  He watched the tall black man amble away.
Then turned his attention back to his friend's beautiful moves on the
pommel horse.

	
	Shale stood naked, his sinewy body bathed in the red glow of the
darkroom bulb.  His tits, twisted into painful erection cast long shadows
down his lean belly.  He watched as Twill fingered through the pile of
newly developed photos.  Shale saw the front of Twill's trousers begin to
tent, and his own cock lengthened in anticipation.
	"Good stuff, Bobby.  Yup, this is just what the doctor ordered.
You did a good job, and you get a reward.  Down!"  Shale sank wordlessly to
his knees before his master.  "Unzip my fly," Twill ordered.  Shale reached
out his hands, which trembled slightly - it was so fucking easy to piss
Twill off!
	"With your mouth, asshole!"  Shale dropped his hands and crawled
nearer, on his knees, until his outstretched face met the protruding
crotch.  He ran his tongue up the zipper until he felt the little metal
flap, but nothing he did would lift the tab.  "Here," Twill said, and stuck
a finger in under the flap, lifting it and lodging it against the straining
cloth to hold it out perpendicular to the zipper trail.  Carefully Shale
caught the flap in his teeth and began to work it slowly downward.  As he
neared the bottom, his eyes came level with the top of the opening.  He
caught a glimpse of Twill's dark golden pubic hair.  And then the swollen
base of the still-trapped penis came before his eyes.  His nose touched the
shaft, caressed it, as his teeth continued to pull the zipper down.
	"You like the smell of that meat, slave?  I haven't washed it since
I fucked your shitty asshole last night."  Shale nodded, still with the
zipper tab between his teeth.
	"Okay, okay.  Back off."  As his slave pulled back, Twill reached
down and yanked open the snap above the now gaping zipper trail.  "Pull 'em
down!"  Shale hurried forward to obey.  Quickly but carefully, he hauled
the jeans down.  As the cloth cleared Twill's bulging thighs, the dick
sprang free and swung up hitting Shale sharply under his chin.  "Clumsy
piece of shit!"  Twill yelled.  "You just lost your dinner, scumbag.  Get
your ass up here and lean over this table."  Shale hurried to comply,
shoving things aside with his forearms as he bent over the workbench.  "I
was gonna let you eat my nice, hot load while you jerk yourself off.  But
now the clumsy slave gotta be taught a lesson!"
	Shale felt the fat tip of Twill's nine-incher batter into his anus.
There would be no rest.  No lubricant.  Savagely Twill rammed the length of
his vein-engorged cock up Shale's ass.  Then he fast-pulled it out.  All
the way out.  Shale's guts pushed out a loud fart.  And again Twill jammed
his outsize tool into and up the distended ass.  This time hurt worse than
the first.  Shale couldn't suppress a gasp of pain.
	Again Twill pulled all the way out.  "Down!"  he commanded.  Shale
fell back off of the bench and to his knees, wincing from the fire his
motions produced in his bruised behind.  He turned to face the large, angry
man.  Before him the big dick bobbed, festooned with streaks of his own
runny shit.  "Open wide, please," Twill snickered at his own dentist
imitation.  Shale felt nausea welling up, but he knew better than to
hesitate.  He opened his mouth and leaned forward to take the filthy prick.
Twill lunged forward, burying his tool in Shale's mouth, forcing past the
gag spot, down into the hot, tight throat.  Twill stood immobile, cock
fully sheathed, for long moments.  Slowly his anger subsided, and he pulled
back until only the head was still in the other man's mouth.  "Okay, baby,"
he said, almost fondly.  "Eat me real nice."