Date: Sun, 28 Mar 2004 16:43:02 -0800 (PST)
From: Rio Mack <staledrama@yahoo.com>
Subject: posing 4

	That first week together was magic.  We spent a great day together
hanging my art around the room.  We did the paintings first, then
interspersed some of my best sketches and pastels around them.  After the
first hour or so, looking at each other's naked bodies reaching and
stretching, turning and bending, hammering and wiping off sweat, as well as
the beautiful muscled torsos we were hanging, we erupted into about an hour
of glorious sex: we eagerly 69'd, hands firmly clasped on each other's hard
asses, feverishly poking around in holes, until we just had to fuck; then
after each taking the other, we lay in bed, totally high, surrounded by my
work, our room a gallery of stylized male eroticism, and soon, of
course-talking frankly about my drawings, saying what was hot in this one
or that one, Jack waxing eloquent like he was suddenly some connoisseur of
dicks-we stroked each other into hardness again.
	"God," said Jack, licking my cream off his fingers after I tensed
and shot, "I love what I'm into now, holding your hard body, your hard
dick, seeing you shoot."  As he polished off the last bit, he said, "Do you
think there's a lot of protein in cum?  Cause I really feel, the way I seem
to be bulking a bit more, like I'm getting extra protein in my diet."

	On Monday I called the number the guy on the beach gave me, the one
who expressed interest in my art.  It turned out to be the name of a
downtown gallery I'd heard of, Devin Brand Gallery.  I assume the guy on
the beach that day was Mr. Brand himself.  His receptionist said he'd be
out of town a couple weeks, he was in Venice for the Biennale.  I left my
name, and told her what my call was in reference to.  Then she really
shocked me by adding, "Oh yes, the young artist Mr. Brand met that day by
the river.  He told me I might expect a call from you.  He's very keen to
see your work.  I'll tell him you called, and I'm sure he'll call as soon
as he gets back."  Whoa, not only Mr. Devin Brand Gallery, but he's keen on
my work.  I was stoked.  It gave me new enthusiasm to try to do a couple
more paintings before he returned.  I knew I wanted to do a big one of
Jack, but wasn't sure what else.

	And of course, we worked out.  Jack got me going on a stepped-up
exercise regimen immediately.  I could see why this guy was so built now,
he was a fitness guru.  He spent the first few days in the gym showing me
all sorts of new exercises, plus showing me how to superset exercises, how
to vary weights on each repetition for maximum pump, and how to combine
different exercises in combinations that would maximize efficiency.  I was
sore as hell after the first couple days, but Jack would rub me down in the
sauna afterwards, so I don't think I was quite as sore as I could have
been.  He gave me diet tips constantly, too.  And started me running, which
I'd done very sporadically before then.  By the end of the first week, I
was doing two-a-days in the gym, just like Jack (my morning routine was in
the students' gym; my afternoon session I'd do with Jack in the athletic
complex's gym), and several miles a couple times a week.  Jack brought his
workout down to my level for the first week or so-he had been at the stage
where each day he would just work one muscle group, fine-tuning that
brilliantly chiseled physique, but with me, it had to be a whole upper-body
set one day and lower-body the next, so I could get a good muscle base
going ("Don't worry," he said, when I told him how guilty I was that he was
dumbing down his pro routine, "it never hurts to shock my muscles with
something they don't expect.").  He simply increased weights.  Soon,
though, I was able to work up to his regimen of isolated muscles.  My
previous plateau was busted, and I started seeing results after about 8
days.

	Working out with Jack was incredible.  First, there was seeing that
awesome body get pumped even bigger as he lifted.  I sported wood at every
workout.  But then there was Jack being so hands-on as he showed me proper
lifting procedure.  He'd nuzzle up close, make sure his jock-encased dick
was right in the crack of my ass, pressing that solid chest up against me,
and hold my arms lightly as I learned the right form.  He'd feel the muscle
as it contracted, to make sure I got the right pump, and he'd whisper,
"God, I'm so fucking hot for you.  You are so fucking beautiful.  Let's
jack each other off in the sauna, no matter what!"  He made washing my back
and ass seem like just a normal thing buddies did.  I'm sure some of the
other football players thought it was weird at first, but damned if I
didn't start seeing a couple more guys each day say, "Hey, get my back
willya?" to a bud on the team.

	Being so close to the football team like this was an experience.
First there were the locker rooms.  When the team wasn't either dressing or
undressing by their lockers, they were almost always nude: walking to and
from the showers or sauna or scales, drying or combing hair by the mirrors,
standing around talking, or just engaged in aggressive, semi-lewd horseplay
(like towel-snapping, I couldn't believe they still did that, but dang was
it cool to see some huge beefy linebacker with a red welt on his meaty ass,
chasing another guy down the hall for revenge).  It was like you were a
sissy or something if you covered yourself with a towel or even wore a
jock.  Any guests the players bought who didn't know the unwritten rule
were soon met with "Hey, not enough down there to show off, huh?" or "Oooh,
gotta hide the hard-on from staring too much, don't ya?"  It just took one
taunting to overcome any modesty.  Then there was just being among all
those beefy specimens lifting, feeling each other up, studying themselves
in the weight room mirrors.  Not to mention the heady feeling of being
naked among so many built dudes in the shower.

	There was one player on the team I was especially interested in-not
just cause he was hot as hell, but because I was aching to draw this guy.
In fact, I wanted him to be the second new painting I would have ready to
show Devin Brand when he got back from Venice.  He was young-looking, but
I'd always had trouble guessing black men's ages.  I guessed he was
freshman or sophomore, but Jack later told me he was the senior running
back, a star of the team.  He set a conference record last year for both
yardage and touchdowns.  Damn that dude was gorgeous.  I had to consciously
remind myself to look away from him.  His name was Jamal Evans.  The best
way to describe him was to imagine you were doing a fantasy cartoon-movie,
and you had a race of rock warriors.  Imagine you had to draw these
exaggerated highly-muscled stone gladiators-Jamal would be one.  He had a
kind of dark cocoa skin, with just a hint of cinnamon; it was smooth, rich,
and luscious.  I realized from seeing him in the locker room and showers
that he must have shaved his body, cause there was not a trace of hair on
him, even under his arms, except for the close-cropped, perfectly-groomed
hair on his head, and a small rectangular strip above his dick.  Though he
was a bit shorter than Jack, his massive frame was much bigger, but,
amazingly, just as ripped.  He looked like Jack only enlarged.  If Jack was
carved from marble, this guy was hewn from granite.  But he was
surprisingly lithe and fluid, just radiating an almost feminine grace and
ease.  I'd watch him move around the weight room and locker room like a big
jungle cat.  I wouldn't have been surprised if you told me his other
extra-curricular activity was dance.  And his dick, shit, I had never seen
one like it before: it wasn't exactly long-it looked to be about maybe 7
inches soft-it was the thickness.  And not thick all over: he was uncut,
with a small rounded head, but then his dick flared wide, the whole thing
perched high on a huge set of balls bigger than my fist.  All I could think
about his cock was that it looked like a luscious, sexy sweet potato.  I
studied it every chance I got, wanting to draw it, suck it, hold it, stroke
it, feel it get hard, feel that wild thickness firmly rooted up my ass.
His locker was across the aisle from the one Jack & I shared, and I loved
to watch him put on a jock.  He always wore one of those thin-banded
runners' jocks, so you saw this chocolate granite god, with just this sexy
little strap curving down around the top of his dick, jutting down way low,
with no hair, just cut muscle showing, then hugging around that small waist
and squat, hard, bubble butt, showcasing his thick, beefy thighs, with the
thin white mesh barely holding back that bulging beauty, its dark outline
easily traced with my eyes.  The more I watched him, the more I knew I had
to paint him.
	His face, too, was gorgeous.  He had that kind of aquiline,
feminine beauty a lot of young black men have.  His nose, widely-flared at
the base, was otherwise slender and gently curved, and his lips were
incredible-so full and dusky, the edges of each curved sensually back; I
stared at them for long stretches, imagining them caressing my dick as it
moved in and out, in and out, or passing over my chest, stopping to engulf
a nipple.  Jamal's eyes were clear, alert, and knowing.  His head, too,
seemed carved from the same mass of stone his body was, only polished
smooth: he had very pronounced ridges down each side of his forehead and
back along each side of his head, just off the top.  I imagined tracing
those ridges back and forth with my tongue or rubbing my dick across them.
The hair on his head was kept very close, just a notch above shaved.  The
little that grew was immaculately razored all over; he obviously got into
grooming, as he was one of the few team members who shaved and trimmed
their pubic hairs.  I was sure his ass crack was smooth and thought all the
time about burying my tongue between those massive stone globes.  His body
was so damn smooth everywhere, which just set off so well that hefty sweet
potato and huge dark ball sac.  I had to figure out a way to get this guy
to pose for me.

	But after that first week, classes started, and so did evening
practice for Jack.  So now for Jack it was weights (with the team trainer)
at 6, run til 10, then classes, then some free time for him (time when I
was in class), weights again for both of us at 3:30 til 5:30, then practice
for Jack from 7 to sometimes 11.  We barely had time for sex, it seemed.
We slept entwined every night, but some nights Jack would come home so
exhausted from practice that he just dropped into bed.  He tried to make up
for it by lovingly sucking my morning wood off around 5, thinking of the
cum as an appetizer for his protein shake.  Sometimes, he'd be refreshed
enough that he could get up at about 4:30, his lust not to shy to wake me,
and we'd fuck before he left.  He loved going off to practice with his nuts
drained.  "I bet I'm the only teammate gettin' it on a regular basis," he
crowed, "and I bet NO ONE else comes to morning weights havin' just got
laid!"  Jack started renting a few gay porn films every week.  We'd watch
them and get off, of course, but then Jack would watch them again, studying
them carefully.  It always made me laugh, it was like he was watching game
film, to study good moves, sneaky offenses, find out which plays would
never work.  "I gotta get these moves down, make up for time wasted!" he
maintained.  Sure enough, soon all the raw clumsiness was gone from his
love-making.  The intensity, the enthusiasm, the raw passion were still
there, more so, maybe: now that he could control it so well, it's like his
desire became fused with his powerfully trained athleticism.  It made our
sex even better.  He sucked cock like he'd been doing it his whole life.
And he mastered new positions for fucking: one of us holding the other up
or lying side-by-side.  One time he brought home a cockring from the sex
shop he rented movies at; he'd seen it in a film and was fascinated by it.
Sure enough, the first time we fucked with it was incredible.  Jack was
bigger, harder, and longer than ever it seemed.  He especially liked
fucking where I lie on my back and he lowered his ass onto me; that way,
could set the pace on top, squeezing and wriggling as he pulled his hips up
and down.  I loved it cause Jack got so into it: that hyper-trained body
had no problem gyrating as long as I could stay hard.  All that ass-rubbing
on my cock, I knew it was those years of pent-up frustrations and
fantasies, they had created an itch Jack loved to keep scratching.

	One DVD, called 'Hot Frat Nites,' had a couple 3-ways and an orgy
scene, all with really cute young muscle studs.  Jack replayed each scene a
couple times, staring and stroking his cock rhythmically as he watched, the
way my studio prof rubbed his jaw, musing, while considering some student's
work.  Finally, he turned to me.

	"Hey, Tom, what do you think of that?"

	"That?  Are you kidding?  It's hot as fuck.  Look at my dick,
dude."  It was jetting straight up as I pumped it.

	"Yeah, me too.  Damn, Tom, do you think we should try that?"

	"You mean you and mean and another guy or guys?  Damn, Jack, sounds
hot as hell.  We're in college for fuck's sake.  That's the kind of crazy
shit we're supposed to be doing now.  I mean, holy fuck, I can think of a
few guys on the team I would most definitely like to join us one night,
starting with Jamal.  Why, you got anybody in mind?"

	Then he turned: "Tom, you know what I feel for you, right?  Call it
love or passion or commitment or relationship or whatever.  But I also feel
I just gotta make up for lost time.  My body is definitely at a peak.  And
I fucking love male sex, man.  Love sucking a cock, love getting sucked,
love pumping that nice tight ass of yours and love having that sweet hard
cock of yours in me.  Fuck, I just like looking at your dick.  But what
about other dicks, you know?  I think I'd love to be naked, fooling around,
with a couple other hardbodies.  I mean, I guess I'm saying I can separate
what I feel for you from a healthy young male oversexed sex drive, you
know?  Stuff like throwing a hot fuck with another guy or 2 would be just
like a sort of intense athletic game or something, kind of like a wild body
work-out.  And like, this too: I know I'm away at class and practice and
all a lot, and, well, I know we both seem to need to get off several times
a day, so like don't feel bad if you get horny and see some cute guy and
want to get it on when I'm not around.  Just don't fall for anyone else,
you shit!"

	I rubbed his body all over and nudged my dick up in his ass crack.
"Not a chance of that, stud.  And same with you man, if you ever get the
opportunity to get it on with some young stud in the showers after practice
or whatever you hot jock boys do, go for it.  Just be sure to tell me every
sick fucking detail!  And if you find yourself with Jamal, you better get
me on my cellie immediately!"  "Shit, dawg, you got it bad for Jam, don't
you?  But dude, no way he's gay.  Ain't you seen that hot young blond who
wears almost nothing who meets him every day after weights?  That boy's a
pussy-hound, not a cock-hound."  "I don't know, but my gaydar is usually
pretty reliable.  I think that thick dark rod of his has seen its share of
asses."  All this talk about sex got us steamy, and so I started loosening
his pucker as he cooed gratefully.  I lubed up my shaft which seemed harder
than usual.  It was like I was even hotter for Jack, knowing he would now
be playing the field a little.  I wanted to mark my turf, assert my
ultimate right to this muscle-stud's ass.  Jack whimpered in ecstasy as I
plowed him.  He came without either of us stroking his dick, but I kept
pounding away for a few more minutes; his healthy jock dick got almost
instantly harder, and then as I could feel myself cumming, I jerked hard
short thrusts into him, which rattled him over the edge into another
orgasm.  Afterwards, as we lay stroking each other, we decided to see
tomorrow afternoon in the gym who we might come up with in the way of a
possible player for Jack's new game.

	And to my utter delight, my gaydar proved right.  The next
afternoon was the day Jack got me on his weight program of isolating and
exhausting various muscles every day, and we spent over 3 hours in the gym.
By the time we were finished in the weight room, everyone else was gone,
probably long gone.  We hit the sauna with me feeling pain in muscles I
didn't even know I had.  As we opened the door, who was slouching against
the wall on one of the benches?  Had he been waiting, I wondered later.

	"Hey, Jam, 'sup?"  Jack greeted my fantasy-stud.  God, to see his
chocolate rock-hardness gleam with sweat.  I could just feel the blood
flood my cock.

	"Hey, Jackie."  Then he noticed me, "And hey, Blondie.  You guys
here late, too?"

	"Yeah, showing some new moves to my buddy here, who overdid it a
bit."

	Jack and I took the bench right across from Jamal, and Jack
proceeded to rub me down.  I lie on my stomach, he straddled me, and then
went to work.  Jack's mind was in the same groove as mine, I guess, with
both of us thinking, 'Our first 3-way!' cause Jack got lewd almost
instantly.  He made a show out of fitting his flint-hard cock right in my
ass-crack.  "How's that feel, dude?" he asked.  "Mmmmm, incredible," I
moaned.  Then he rubbed my shoulders, but really he sort of dry-fucked my
ass.

	"Dang, what the fuck?" Jam was into it instantly.  I watched that
thick dick get hard, the pink top not quite poking out from the sheath of
chocolate skin.  One hand was immediately on his shaft, and one went for
that huge set of balls.  Jack responded by having me turn over, and he
straddled me again, and this time, with cocks pressed together, he
lusciously massaged my pecs down to my hip-bones; every once in a while he
would swoop down and our tongues would dance together.

	"Whooo-eeeeh, fuck that shit is hot.  Jack, I ain't know you were
on the down-low."

	"Oh fuck, Tom, you feel so good!" Jack was caught up in lust now,
shit was going to happen.  "'Down-low,' Jam, what'd you say?"  And now Jack
was on my dick, lapping and sucking and gobbling.  I had my head in his
hands, my hips wriggling around.

	"Oh fuck, I gots to get me some of this."  Jamal wriggled up next
to me so that his rock-hard sweet potato was pressed right up against the
side of my face.  Then he started kissing and licking along with Jack,
reaching in to grab Jack's dick in his huge hand.

	"Oh yeah, Jam, suck me, man, and give Tom yours!"  I couldn't
believe it.  Jack was now directing his own 3-way!  I eagerly lapped up the
dark cocoa fuckstick that had tantalized me for so long.  There was a wash
of precum on the head that I neatly scooped off with my tongue and
savored-mmmm, like slightly salty honey.  Then I got to work, giving Jam,
hopefully, the best head he'd ever had.  I played around with the head and
foreskin for a while, while his high-pitched screams, muffled slightly by
my lover's cock in his mouth, filled the sauna.  Then I started
deep-throating him and really sucking hard.  Hands were everywhere as we
hungrily devoured the prime stud meat in each of our mouths.  Jam shot
first, then me, and then Jack went, after face-fucking Jam hard and rapid.
We all lay back, grinning in ecstatic delight, cum smeared all over our
faces.  I turned to Jam and started licking his face, especially those
lips.  He opened his mouth to receive my tongue and slipped his wildly into
mine.  After a few moments he pulled back and looked at us both.

	"So you guys both on the down-low, too?  Sheee-yit."

	"What the fuck's this 'down-low'?" Jack panted.

	I could answer that: "It's when otherwise hetero-stud-looking black
guys turn out to have a secret thing for guys.  Haven't you ever heard the
R. Kelly song?"

	"Fuck, dawg," Jam said, "I been on the down-low since midway
through high school.  I like gettin' laid, but damn I like dick.  And fuck,
you guys, this was some hot dick."

	In the showers, we washed each other.  I worshipped Jam's
massiveness with my soapy hands.  He returned the favor, making sure to
spend a lot of time on my hole, as Jack stroked us both, making loving
murmurs.  Soon Jamal's dick was a hard twitchy piece of stone in my hands.

	"Blondie, you know what I want?"

	"Same as me, man.  Go for it.  I been feenin' fer that big-ass
dick'a yours since the first time I saw it."

	As Jam worked his way into me, Jack started working Jam's hole.
"And you know what I want, dude, right?"

	"Aw yeah, Jackie, I love gettin' plugged while I'm dickin' some
young guy's ass.  Do it, stud, fuck me."

	So there we were, under two rushing jets of water, liquid sexily
streaming off our cut physiques, our moans echoing off the tiled walls,
mixing with the sultry steam.  Jam was incredibly strong; he was pumping me
with the same force he'd use to run down the field for a score.

	"Oh shit," I cried, "God that thick dick is incredible.  Oh Jam,
keep pounding man, fuck you feel good."

	"Aw fuck, Blondie, I'm so hard and thick cause your boyfriend has
my ass so filled.  That long hard shaft has got my own dick harder than
ever.  How's y'own sweet cock doin'?" And he reached that big strong hand
around and, with a tenderness that belied his bruising size, lovingly
played with the head of my dick, fingering my slick piss-hole with a big
finger.  He scooped off what he found there and licked his chops.  "Oh
hurry and shoot, fucker," he cried.  "I need another loada that tasty cream
you got."

	Then he reached under to milk my balls.  A few seconds of that and
he felt them tighten and knew his load was coming.  "Oh yeah, got me some'a
dat blonde spunk!"  I unloaded into his palm as he kept up his thrusts.
Then I heard Jam yell, "Oh fuck, Jackie, you way to much for me!"  Out of
the corner of my eye, I could see the muscles in Jam's neck tense and then
felt him pump into my guts.  Almost immediately it gushed out my hole and
leaked down my thighs.

	"You two punks can't last as long as this stud!  I could fuck that
sweet brown ass of yours all night, Jam."  And Jack kept thrusting over and
over into Jam's hot ass; I could feel each thrust as the massive running
back knocked into me.  I could also feel his dick hardening up in me.  "Aw
fuck, Blondie!  You feel dat?  Jackie's done pounded me hard again!"

	"Great, dude, give it to me, man!  I'm all wet and wide open from
your last pounding.  Aw, Jack, you gotta feel Jamal's thick sweet potato in
your ass some day.  You won't believe how good it feels."

	"Good as mine, you little slut?" Jack laughed, as he kept up a
barrage on Jamal's backside.

	"Aw fuck, here I go again.  Damn, you twice as hard as me, Jack!"
And Jam emptied just slightly less juice into my boy-pussy.  I was spent.
I slipped off him, and draped myself over his lusty frame, rubbing my face
across the top of his head, tonguing him along those ridges I had thought
so much about, one hand stroking his huge chest, tweaking his nips, the
other reaching down to tickle my lover's balls.

	"Oh you fucking shit, no fair!"  Jack laughed hysterically.  "Oh
shit, here I go!"

	After we recovered, we each showered and then dried off.  Jack and
I were all over Jam, kissing him and hugging him.  I told him how much he'd
always turned me on, how anxious I had been to see what that dick felt
like.

	"So maybe we do dis again, you two, aiiiigght?"

	"Fo' fuckin' sho'!" Jack cried.

	Weekend nights there was no practice, and we both liked to hit the
bars.  The singles bars on campus were all meat racks, but Jack dug going
in there and making out with me.  A lot of the guys on the team either knew
or suspected I was Jack's boyfriend, so if any of them were around, they
wouldn't be shocked to see Jack rubbing up next to me at the bar, or
running his tongue inside my ear.  He'd lead me to a table by holding his
hand on my ass, middle finger deeply grooving my crack.  We'd show up in
wife beaters and I'd wear cargo shorts, and Jack his baggy gym shorts. I
got him to give up underwear and go longer between shaves.  I wanted to be
able to reach down whenever we were out like this and get a comforting
handful, and I loved not only the much more rugged look of his face with
three day's growth of his thin, sexy beard, but there was that heavenly
scratchy feel when his lean jaw would rub against my face or chest or inner
thigh.  He said he liked making no secret of our passion for each other in
straight scenes like this cause when he thought he was straight, he used to
get so aroused when he saw a particularly hot gay couple get intimate.

	"God, I'd just fantasize I was doin' that to the guy, or he was
doin' it to me.  Bein' on a date somewhere, and seeing two guys kissing or
rubbing each other got me hotter and harder than the chick I was with.  I
bet something like this will turn on over half the dudes in here," he said,
and the arm he had around me reached over to play with my nipple, his other
hand stroking my thigh.  After a few beers and this kind of making-out in
public, we'd head back to our dorm, thrown on some of Jack's porn, and
really get hot.

	One early morning, about 3 hours before my classes, there was a
knock on our door.  I had been sitting by the window, naked as usual,
working on a composite drawing of Jack from some of my sketches.  I was
wearing Jack's cockring, loving the blood-engorged fullness in my dick,
using it to help set the erotic tone of the drawing, trying to draw my
juices into the work.  I just kept working and called "Come on in!"  As the
door pushed open, I saw Jamal, gloriously nude and looking a little
sheepish.

	"Hey, Jam, 'sup?" I asked, giving him a long stare.  Fuck, that
dude was fine.  His was my second-favorite cock, next to Jack's.  Not only
uncut, but that wild sweet potato thickness.  I wanted to play with it and
suck it immediately.  "Hey, why aren't you running?" I added, knowing where
Jack was.

	"Pulled a hammie, so coach says star running back gets to rest up.
Listen, man, is Jack's playbook around?"

	"I don't know, man, let's look."  I jumped out of bed, happy to be
able to parade around my own nakedness, hoping Jamal might be interested in
a little one-on-one repeat of that sauna-and-shower scene.  I took my time
looking around the floor, desk drawers, dressers, and book shelves.  I was
pleased I could feel myself harden, happy that my cock and balls, encased
by that snug silver ring at the base, would be bouncing wantonly as I moved
about the room.  I decided to check Jack's closet, even though I knew he'd
never keep his playbook in there, just so my dick could brush by Jamal's
huge thighs.  I bent all over the place looking in the closet, so my ass
was pretty much shown off.  When I turned back, I saw Jamal's own cock had
become fully hardened; that dusky pink bullet tip was extended out beyond
the foreskin, and the sweet potato was about two-thirds again longer and
jutting straight away from his solid, beefy abs.
	I noticed Jamal look away from me to notice the art in the rooms.
He was visibly impressed, and said, "Fuck, Blondie, you do these drawings?"

"Yeah, You like 'em."

	"Fuck yeah.  You really know how to make a guy look hot."

	"You fin' dat book?"

	"No man, I guess he has it in his locker.  Sorry."

	"Ah well," he cocked his butt and pretended to be itching his
balls, "I just had some free time, thought I'd memorize some plays."  He
walked over to me, making sure his straining dick hit my thigh.

	"Damn, dude," he felt up my arms and chest, then rubbed up and down
my stomach, making sure the edge of his hand hit my dick on every down
stroke, "Jack's workout been paying off for you.  You musta put on ten
pounds of pure, solid muscle since I seen you last.  You were lean and hot
before, but now you a stud, those muscles o' yours be all full and sexy and
shit.  You be lookin' jus' like Jack in a couple mo' weeks.  Damn, you
fine," as he slowly jacked me and looked me in the eyes, licking those
beautifully sensual lip, "you lookin' like sumpin' I wanna lick all over
now, Blondie."

	It's true, I'd gone from firm, smooth, nicely bulging, with a great
set of abs, to much bulkier all over, really cut, in some places - the
sides of my much bulkier chest, the front of my shoulders, and along the
sides of my upper thighs, in those spots I was absolutely ripped. I knew
from jacking off in front of the mirror on most late mornings: my skin
looked like a fine layer of tan paint sprayed over the muscles.  And now my
stomach, after all those hours of reverse crunches and bent leg raises on a
Roman chair, was an incredibly hot, beautifully bulging eight-pack; it was
just a sleek, hard feel all the way down from my chest to my trimmed blonde
bush.

	"And damn," now his big, hard, warm black fingers were tracing the
cockring, "what the fuck is this?  Shit, this some kind of sex toy thing?
Fuck, tha's hot.  Damn, look how it pumps that dick up."  I took Jamal's
intoxicating cock in my hands boldly, as if it were my own property, and
started stroking it slowly.

	"Jam, did you come here for Jack's playbook or cause you knew he
was gone and thought we might get it on?"

	His whole face lit up in a grin, and he licked his lips
delightedly; his huge black hands were all over my cock and balls.  "Fuck,
Blondie, I think about that time in the sauna like 8 times a day.  That
sweet tanned ass o' yours is sumpin' I'd love to get into again.  And now
that you Mr. Muscle, fuck if I don' wanna rub that shit all over."

	This took a lot of willpower, but I had to do it.  I dropped his
dick and pulled back.

	"Jam, make you a deal.  You pose for me a couple times, so I can
sketch you, and you can fuck me whenever you want."

	"Will you let me have one a the drawin's you do?  A real hot one,
like these on the wall?"

	"Hmmm, if I let you keep a drawing, then you're gonna have to let
me fuck you."

	"Shit, I was hoping I'd get that dangly piece of tanned white meat
up my ass.  Deal."

	"All right.  First posing session right now.  We got about two
hours til my class starts."

	"Aiiiiight, but that's one hour o' art and one o' sex, OK?"

	"Deal.  Now go back to your room and get one of the thin jocks you
wear.  That's how I want you."

	"Yeah, that sounds kinda sexy.  Be right back."

	By the time Jam returned, I had my stuff all set up.  He was a
fucking vision.  We tried a couple different poses, and I did a few
sketches of each.  I also took a couple photos, so I could work on my
painting of him when he wasn't around.  The pose I liked best was Jam
standing with one arm behind his head, looking sideways and down towards
the ground, one knee cocked out a bit as he stood, and that glorious chest
and massive jock plainly in view.  I took a few more pictures of that, then
did a very detailed sketch of it.  Fortunately, Jam let me have that one.
He wanted a particularly hot one of him with both hands behind his head
back in ecstasy, torso charcoaled in so that all major chiseled cuts were
seen, as well as his huge nipples.
	I put my drawing things away and Jamal pulled me towards him.  He
still had his jockstrap on.  We hugged together, kissing in a
quickly-building frenzy of lust, dicks grinding away.  I realized I still
had my cockring on.  This would be one fine fuck, I thought.  I pushed Jam
back on my bed, and went for his jock-clad meat, sucking and licking it,
and blowing on it through the mesh.  I kept working it over with my lips
and tongue and teeth as it got harder and harder.  As the precum started
oozing, I worked the tip of my tongue feverishly into his mesh-covered
piss-slit.  All the time Jam was moaning. With my hands, I started kneading
his balls through the jock, while running my tongue sloppily over his
shaft.  I kept one hand fooling with his balls and with the other, I moved
a wet finger to his asshole.

	"Oh yeah, Blondie, dat's so hot!"

	I worked my finger up there while I continued to blow his dick
through the jock.

	"Aw fuck!" he screamed as I hit his hard little button.  Soon he
was pumping load after load into his jock.  I sucked as much as I could
through the mesh, then tongued down to that smooth dark ass crack.  After a
lot of lapping and tonguing, to Jam's loud squeals, I lifted his brawny
thighs onto my legs and started to ease my dickhead into his moist,
loosened hole.  Damn I wanted to fuck this big beautiful stud.

	"Oh yeah, dude, tha's what I want.  Get that dick all up in me," he
lay back and wriggled in anticipation.  As I slowly inched my way in, I
kept playing with his cock under that cum-and-saliva drenched jock.
Finally I got all the way in.  I just stopped looking down at my tanned,
cut thighs against his bigger, darker ones, and looking at that sweet
writhing face and that massive black torso.  It was just the pose I wanted.
I reached over, still firmly mounted in his ass, grabbed my camera, took a
shot, then commenced to fucking.  Jam pushed back with a fury that almost
knocked me over a few times.  God, he had a hungry hole.

	"Fuck," he grunted, "that blond cunt I fuck can't be doin this, and
damn do I need this.  Oh God, Blondie you feel so good, so big, keep
fucking me, hard man."

	To think I was plowing the ass of one of the best running backs in
the country and he was loving it.  The thought sent me over the edge.

When I pulled out, Jam wasted no time.  He got me on my knees and started
lubing up my ass.  As he worked, I could feel the wet tip of his cock
smearing against the backs of my thighs.  He felt rock hard.  I reached
around and worked some of my cum out of his ass and smeareed it up and down
his shaft as he murmured approval.  That thing was hot and hard and ready.
As soon as he could get 3 of his massive fingers inside, he started dicking
me.  When he got his rhythm, and I timed my own ass-thrusts, he started
kissing my back with those luscious lips.

	"Aw fuck, you're a hot boy," he purred.  "First day Jack brought
you in I had my eye on you.  Lean tan blond white boy.  Fuck you hot.
Watchin Jack wit' his hands all over you.  I knew I had to have you."

	"Aw damn, Jam.  You know how much I was checkin' you out.  Man,
you're one solid black hunk.  Fuck, no one on the team has a better body
than you, not even Jack.  Oh!"  He was shoving it in harder now.  We were
both rapidly going over the edge.  "Oh yeah!  Hit me with that big-ass
thick dick."

	"Shit, this ass is so tight.  My girlfriend's pussy is nothin'
compared to this hole.  Ah damn, I gotta be posin for you every day,
Blondie cause I gotta be fuckin you every day."  He was licking my back and
rubbing his hands all over my sides and chest.  Then he reached down to
jack my dick for a while.  In a second I came, a gut-wrenching climax.  Jam
was there a second later.
	I lay next to him, hands playing over his huge smooth bulk.  I
started tracing a finger around one of his huge nipples while I stroked his
thigh up and down.

	"Oh man, you are such a fucking stud, Jamal.  God, I love your
body."  I flipped over so I could tongue that dick that I found so
remarkable.  He wasted no time in wrapping his lips around mine.  We both
kind of half-moaned, half-purred as we loved the meat in our mouths.  Mmmm,
that thick, dark veiny shaft.  I hel it as i worked my tongue around under
his foreskin, and really worked his pisshole.  Then back to deepthroating
him.  Jamal, meanwhile, had my cock in his big hand, and alternated between
kissing and licking it, stroking it, and then engulfing my hole length up
and down, in synch to my rhythm.  Jam shot, then I went.  We kissed, mixing
our cream together.

	"Aw fuck, Blondie, I've had sex with a lot of guys, but you the
hottest, dude.  Same time tomorrow?"  I kissed him again, grabbed his dick,
and told him I'd be ready, He took his drawing and left.

	"Hey!" I yelled, but he didn't hear me.  I looked down at that wet,
cum-stained jock of his I was calling after him not to forget.  Oh well, I
thought, Jack and I can make good use of this tonight.  I rubbed it across
my face, exhilirating in its pungency.