Date: Sun, 16 Mar 2008 10:53:21 -0400 (EDT)
From: fratbear <fratbear@excite.com>
Subject: Sloan Cosgrove, Chapter 42 of 45

"Sloan Cosgrove, Confessions of a Teenage Bear" is a 45-
chapter novel in which a certain bearish college football player/
frat boy recalls his many sexual adventures and encounters.

All of fratbear's stories are available at:
http://www.geocities.com/fratcub/

******

"Sloan Cosgrove, Confessions of a Teenage Bear"
by fratbear (fratbear@excite.com)


Chapter 42: Screwed Up

"Yeah, take it coach!" Grunt Hochner snarled as he plunged his immense dick
into my ass. He had me pinned to my bed on my stomach as he fucked me as
hard as he could, crying out with each thrust. "You fucking asshole, you're
gonna take my cock and you're gonna like it."

Now you might find all this a bit strange, but let me stop a second to
explain. Even though it seems like I quit the football team eons ago,
apparently that prick Coach Johnson was making life a living hell for those
team members who'd chosen to stick with it and endure his altogether
unpleasant personality. His special venom was reserved for those he
suspected of having gay tendencies.

It'd taken a few years for Coach Johnson to catch on, but Grunt Hochner,
the muscle-bound, blond-haired, but altogether nice guy behemoth of a
lineman, definitely was a guy with those kinds of tendencies. So just as
he'd done with me a year earlier, the coach had called Grunt into his
office after practice, grilled him on his sexual orientation, and then
promptly kicked him off the team.

Knowing about my similar experience, Grunt had come straight to my room to
talk about it, and to exchange stories about what a prick the coach
was. Within ten minutes, I was having my ass plowed, with Grunt fantasizing
that he was sticking his rod into Coach Johnson's unprepared, unlubricated
ass. I played along, sympathizing with his frustration. Besides, getting
fucked by Grunt was something I always looked forward to.

"Yeah, yeah, fuck!" Grunt yelled, and I was absolutely sure everyone in the
Delt House could hear him. Not that anyone would dare to get in Grunt's
face about it. He could probably beat any of them into a pulp. Not right
now, though. He was busy draining his energy as he arched up, roaring in
rage as he came in my ass, pumping his hot, angry load into my body.

He collapsed on top of me, twitching as his cock throbbed in my ass. He was
sniffling, and I wondered if he might be crying.

"Hey, you okay?" I asked, truly concerned.

He was quiet for a moment before answering with his own question. "Why do
you think he's such as asshole?" Grunt whispered to me as he lay on top of
me.

I sighed. I'd wasted nights pondering this question. And really, I'd come
up with only one answered, though it seemed a little far-fetched.

"You really want to know what I think's wrong with the coach?" I asked,
even though the answer to my question was obvious. Grunt didn't answer,
just kissing me on my shoulder. "Well, I've thought about it, and the only
thing that makes sense is this. Coach seems to be obsessed about whether
the guys on the team are fucking each other. It's like he's got it on his
mind twenty-four-seven. The way I see, only some seriously fucked-up man
with deeply suppressed desires could be so obsessed."

Grunt actually chuckled. A deep, bellowing chuckle. "You mean you think
that all he really wants is a good ass-fucking?"

"Sounds crazy, huh?" I replied, enjoying the feeling of Grunt's weight on
top of me like a heavy blanket.

He was silent for a minute, and I could almost hear the gears in his head
turning. "Well, why don't we see if you're right?"

And that's how it really all happened. Grunt made a few phone calls, and
two days later, I found myself in a quartet with Grunt, Norm O'Malley, and
Chip Chadwick... we were a half-ton of lineman meat stomping across campus
towards the athletic center... and Coach Johnson's office.

I don't think we really had a plan. After two days, we were still being
fueled by outrage and a thirst for revenge. Not to mention general, college
jock-grade horniness.

Coach Johnson looked up from his desk as we barged through the door into
his office. Grunt made sure to lock it behind us.

"What the hell?" Coach growled as he stood up to face
us. "Hochner. Cosgrove. What're you doing here? And O'Malley and
Chadwick. What're you doing with these queers?"

"Shut up, Coach," Norm said forcefully, and Coach Johnson went silent,
seeing that his former team player was now a feared enemy.

"Hey, Coach," Grunt chimed in, stepping towards the desk and faking
sincerity. "Now, we've all been subjected to you and your hate, whether you
knew it or not. And you're probably too stupid to realize it, but Norm and
Chip... we've all fucked each other and enjoyed it. And that must really
drive you crazy, huh? Because you could never join in."

"Wh... what the hell are you talking about?" Coach Johnson stammered, his
face turning pale. Either he was scared out of his mind, or he was shocked
that somebody had uncovered his secret.

"Well, Coach," I decided to stick it to him. "We're gonna give you what
you've obviously been dying for."

"What?" he asked, his mind in a haze.

Grunt grinned. "A good fucking, of course."

Norm and Chip grabbed the trembling coach and spun him around. Coach
Johnson let out a cry, but there was no one outside of the office close
enough to hear him. Norm and Chip slammed him down onto his desk, knocking
over paperweights, a pencil holder, and a lamp as they pinned down the
helpless man.

Coach Johnson squirmed around, but he was unable to break free as Grunt
yanked down his shorts, revealing his hairy ass, ripe for the taking. Grunt
stripped off his own shorts, freeing his already-erect monster, which he
rubbed with his fingers.

"Spread his legs," Grunt commanded Norm and Chip, who pulled the coach's
legs apart, allowing Grunt to climb up onto the desk and position himself
on top of Coach Johnson, who by now had gone silent, gritting his teeth to
prepare himself for the impending onslaught.

"Gah!" Coach screamed unintelligibly as Grunt shoved his huge pole right
into the coach's tight asshole. I walked around the desk to get a good look
at the expression on his face, which was red with pain as tears welled up
in his eyes. He looked at me with a pitiful look in his eyes, but strangely
enough, I got the distinct impression that he was enjoying it.

"You like this, don't you, Coach?" I asked as Grunt started humping away,
fucking Coach Johnson's ass with almost the same vigor with which he'd
fucked my ass two days earlier.

Coach Johnson screamed and cried in wonderful agony as Grunt fucked him,
but he made no effort to struggle or escape. In fact, he started humping
his own hips, rubbing his cock against the desk beneath him. He was getting
into it.

I watched the sweat build on the coach's brow, until it dripped off him in
streams. Grunt's pounding cock was taking a toll on him.

Suddenly, Coach reached out and grabbed me, undoing my pants and pulling
them down to reveal my dripping erection. He wrapped his fingers around it
started jerking me off. There was no doubt about it now, he'd been dying
for years to get his hands on his football players' cocks. And now that he
had one, he was going to make the most of it.

But not before Grunt had made the most of the situation. With a grunt and a
primal yell, Grunt shot his sperm into Coach Johnson's ass. Grunt's cries
soon died into a series of guttural groans, then he pulled his cock out of
the coach and fell back into a chair, too exhausted to say a word.

Coach Johnson didn't say anything, either, just looking up into my eyes as
he continued playing with my dick. He flinched, but only briefly, when he
felt Norm climbing onto him. I saw the tears welling in his eyes again as
Norm slipped his own massive cock into the Coach's now-loosened asshole.

Norm fucked the coach with a gentle, steady rhythm. I found myself staring
right into Norm's face as he pumped away, and I relished the look on his
face, a look of sheer bliss. I knew that Norm didn't get sex as frequently
as he liked, and even though he was technically straight, in his mind
fucking was fucking, whether he was fucking a cheerleader or the football
coach.

I watched the muscles in Norm's face tightening as he neared his orgasm,
and let out a few, sharp breaths as he came, no doubt pouring a veritable
river of his cum into the coach's ass.

No sooner had Norm climbed off of the desk, Chip was there to take his
place, sliding his cock into Coach Johnson's cum-slicked hole. Chip fucked
the coach with real energy, pounding his ass with even more force than
Grunt had. Coach Johnson was still giving me a hand-job, and I watched his
face as it screwed up into an expression that looked like unbearable pain.

Coach Johnson screamed out, and his body shook as he started crying, tears
rolling down his cheeks. For a moment, I thought we'd broken him, but then
a big smile spread across his face as he squeezed his eyes shut, and I
understood what had just happened. He'd shot his load. A squishing sound
coming from his stomach as it rubbed against the desk confirmed my
suspicions.

Chip didn't seem to notice. He was too busy pummeling the coach's ravaged
ass. And soon Chip was cumming, too, growling like a dog as he emptied his
balls.

"Your turn now," Coach Johnson said to me, the first words he'd uttered
since we started fucking him.

As Chip pulled out and stepped away, I climbed onto the desk and penetrated
his hot, wet asshole with my dripping dick. He'd done such a good job
jerking me off that it didn't take long before I was ready to cum.

Just as I started shooting my cum into him, I felt his ass clamping around
my cock. The coach was cumming again. We roared together as we both came,
me spurting my spunk into his ass, him pumping his second load onto his
desk under him.

Coach Johnson suddenly went limp as my climax subsided, and I collapsed on
top of him. Norm walked around the desk to look at him.

"Dude, he passed out," Norm said, laughing in amazement.

"Guess we used him up," Grunt remarked.

I smiled as I pulled out of the coach and climbed off the desk.

Grunt rolled Coach Johnson's unconscious body up onto its side to get a
good look at the mess of cum under him. "Damn, guess you were right,
Sloan. He even came twice."

I shrugged. "Maybe he'll be nicer now that he's worked out some of his
frustrations."

We laughed and left Coach Johnson lying in his own cum on his desk, taking
bets on whether he wake up before he was discovered by anybody else.


- fratbear
fratbear@excite.com
http://www.geocities.com/fratcub/