Date: Sat, 11 Feb 2017 22:52:13 +0000 (UTC)
From: jhtravus <jhtravus@yahoo.com>
Subject: Horny Exchange Student Chapter 48

These horny guys are really pulling out all the stops as we sprint the way
to chapter 50! I've brainstormed in my head how I want things to finish and
I really hope you guys are going to like it.

As always, comments about the story are always appreciated, especially as
we're nearing the end. jhtravus@yahoo.com

Check me out on tumblr for sneak peaks and to be notified on any future
stories I'm coming out with soon!
https://www.tumblr.com/blog/jhtravus-gay-fiction


				Chapter 48


The next morning the four of us all went out for breakfast together, with
Brad and Coach Jackson practically howling at Mr. Williams's and my tale
about almost getting caught at the new house yesterday.

	"The two of you must have been scared shitless!" Coach Jackson
wheezed as they listened as I finished going through it.

	"You know Dan, I'm glad you think this is all so funny, seeing as
how you wouldn't have a roof over your head next time you visit if I'd lost
the house." Mr. Williams replied sternly.

	"Ah, lighten up, Mike. Shit, I'm just relieved to hear you and
Africa are still having sex at all and not just reading library books or
whatever the fuck it is the two of you do for fun these days."

	"Just because Ollie doesn't have me sucking off complete strangers
at the gym doesn't mean we don't have our fun." Mr. Williams retorted,
bringing his coffee to his mouth and taking a sip.

	"Shit, you told them that?" Coach Jackson asked, turning to his
athlete.

	"Are you kidding, Coach? Of course I told Dad and Ollie. Hell, I
told the entire team you were prowling around the gym hoping to suck guys
off."

	"Y- you did?" Coach Jackson asked, getting a little turned on,
straightening up in his seat.

	"Of course." Brad replied, leaning over to kiss him. "You know I
love how much of a slut you are."

	"Yeah, kid?" Coach Jackson muttered, accepting his athlete's tongue
in his mouth right there in the middle of the restaurant. "It turn you on
how much I get off on slutting out for you?"

	"I wouldn't be surprised if some of the guys on the team are just
hanging around over by the showers right now, hoping that cockslut
musclestud they heard about would offer to suck them off."

	"Aw fuck, Williams. . ." The giant man huffed, making the table
jump as he started to maneuver himself closer to him.

	"Alright alright, break it up, you two." Mr. Williams laughed. "You
two are about 45 seconds away from getting yourself thrown in jail for
indecent exposure in a public area."

	"So the fuck what, we can still fuck in prison." Coach Jackson
countered, moaning as Brad grabbed at his ass.

	Mr. Williams dipped his fingers in my ice water and flicked it at
them, causing them to separate, agitated. "Sorry Dan, but you're not
getting my son thrown in jail just for a quick piece of ass."

	Coach Jackson nodded to me with a laugh. "Hey Africa, would you do
me a favor and shut that cock-block boyfriend of yours the hell up
already?"

	"You want to buy your own breakfast, Dan?" Mr. Williams eyed him
with a grin.

	"No. . ." Coach Jackson responded, in a surly tone.

	"Then knock it off."

	Brad and Coach Jackson separated and resumed picking up their forks
to enjoy their breakfast, laughing like teenagers hitting each other under
the table.

	"So what do you guys have planned for today?" I asked them. "You're
heading back to Sacramento this afternoon, right, Coach?"

	"4:30." Coach Jackson nodded. "And Williams here isn't telling me
what he has planned for me, the prick."

"That's right." Brad grinned, knowingly. "It's not like I left you
completely in the dark, though.

	"Yeah, well telling me to bring lube and a cock-hungry appetite
isn't exactly revealing much with you, now is it?"

	"Do I know what you like or do I know what you like?"

	"Hmmpf. . ." Coach Jackson muttered, eyeing him.

	"I know what he has planned. . . " I told him with a grin.

	"Then out with it!" Coach Jackson insisted, nudging my shoulder.

	"I'm not saying anything."

	"Damn it, Olujimi, you think just because you're not on my team
anymore it means I can't still tell you what to do?"

	"Pretty much, yeah." I laughed.

	He looked me over, sizing me up. "You know, I liked you better when
you followed orders."

	"Uh huh. .  ." Brad smirked. "You liked him better when the two of
us were double fucking you in your office after practice a couple times a
week."

	"Shit, I'll give you that." Coach Jackson laughed, stealing a piece
of toast off of Brad's plate with a wink.

-

	After breakfast the three of us headed back to the dorm while
Mr. Williams met up with the realtor to officially sign for the house. We
had a few hours to kill before Coach Jackson needed to be at the airport so
we turned on ESPN for a bit.

	It was a replay of the game from last weekend but it was still
better than whatever else was on tv. After hearing lots of "I would have
made that catch" `s and "that moron wouldn't know how to coach his way
through little league" `s over from the other couch, I noticed a sudden
quietness.

	I looked over and Brad was spread over Coach Jackson's chest,
making out with each other, completely tuning out the world around them.

An entire quarter went by, the two of them in a constant lip lock with one
another, just as hungry for each other as when they started.

	At the beginning of the fourth quarter, when I thought their lips
had to have been chapped raw from making out for so long, Brad sat up,
pulling the giant man with him, and leading him to his room without even a
word.

	The door shut and almost instantly I heard a groan and the sound of
bedsprings squeaking over and over again.

	From the urgency in Brad's thrusts, coupled with Coach Jackson's
low, baritone moaning, I could tell this wasn't going to be a long one. As
their groans grew louder with Brad's increase in speed, the sound of the
headboard hitting the wall, I heard a final grunt from each of them and
then everything slowed down until absolute silence.

	A few moments later the bedroom door opened again and the two of
them staggered out together, Coach Jackson wiping the sweat from his brow
with his forearm, throwing his t-shirt on and Brad following him back to
the couch, in nothing but a loose pair of basketball shorts, his abs
glistening with sweat from the rough, fast fuck he'd thrown the giant man
moments before.

	Without a word, they collapsed back onto the couch and continued to
watch the game, completely back to normal. I shook my head laughing,
turning back to the screen.

	When the game finished they did the post-game interviews in the
locker room where all the players were changing out of their gear and
throwing towels around their waists to head to the showers.

	"You know what would be hot, coach?" Brad hummed, absentmindedly as
he played with the giant man's chest through his shirt as they watched the
tv.

	"Hmmm."

	"Seeing you with chest hair like that dude in back behind the
reporter."

	"I hated having chest hair. Haven't had it since I was in college."
Coach Jackson replied, lifting his shirt up and running his hand along his
smooth muscles. "I grow fast, too, so I have to save twice a day to keep
looking pretty for you."

	"When's the next time you're coming down here?"

	"Assuming you don't do something to piss me off, two weeks. Gotta
straighten things out with the assistant coach next weekend."

	"Just try it out." Brad said, working the man's nipple over. "If I
like it on you, you'll keep it, if not, you'll go back to shaving again."

	"Jesus Christ, you're one cocksure son of a bitch, Williams." He
laughed. "You think I'm just gonna let you decide shit for me like that?"

	"Well. . . yeah."

	Coach Jackson laughed, shaking his head.  He looked over at me and
rolled his eyes. "Can you believe the fuckin ego on this kid?"

	"Who do you think he learned it from?" I laughed.

	"Oh bullshit, I may be a piece of fuckin work sometimes and I like
having things my way, but I wouldn't try half the shit I let this kid get
away with." Coach Jackson smirked, nudging his athlete, playfully. "And the
prick knows it just gets me even hotter to put out for him."

	"It doesn't have to be next time you visit." Brad said, running his
hands over the man's smooth, concrete muscles. "But I'm telling you, I
promise you if you came down here and surprised me one of these weekends
with a little bit of fur on you. . . fuck. . ." Brad breathed out, right at
his ear, moving his hand down the man's torso down to his ass and tracing
along his taint through the fabric of his shorts. "Your pussy would be so
sore on that flight home you wouldn't be able to sit right without thinking
about what all I did to get it that way."

	As his athlete whispered the words in his ear, the mighty man's
cock bounced in his shorts. "Fuck!" He cursed, trying to cool himself
off. "I can't believe you're actually getting me to consider doing it for
you."

	"That's all I'm saying, Coach." Brad replied, throwing his hands
up. "It's your choice whether you want to see if I can follow through on
that promise."

	Coach Jackson sat up, breaking away from him and laughed, looking
at me. "Cocky fucker got pussy off of me, what, forty five seconds ago and
he's already pressing his luck." He muttered, shaking his head. "Give Brad
Williams an inch and he takes a fuckin mile."

					-

	After I left the dorm around noon for Mr. Williams to take me out
to lunch to celebrate closing on the new house there was a knock on the
door.

	"Why don't you go and see who it is, Coach?" Brad said, turning off
the tv with a grin on his face.

	"It's your fuckin room, you answer it." The giant man retorted.

	"Oh just do it." Brad replied, getting frustrated.

	"Ass. . ." Coach Jackson cursed as he got up.

	He opened the door to find John Carpenter standing behind it,
flashing his handsome smile.

	"Williams, some jock wants to see you." He said over his shoulder,
letting him in.

	"Actually, Coach, I'm pretty sure he's here to see you." Brad
replied, watching the man he loved and his formal rival meeting each other
for the first time.

	Coach Jackson immediately perked up, taking a good look at the
hunky football player in front of him.

	"You the quarterback?" Coach Jackson muttered, his eyes roaming up
and down John Carpenter's frame as he sized him up.

	"Yes sir, I am." John answered, extending a hand for him to shake.

	Coach Jackson made no effort to shake hands, his arms still crossed
together as he looked him over. "You the one who's been putting out for
Williams on the regular while I'm gone?"

	John faltered a little, turning red. "Uh, yes sir, that would be
me. He said you wouldn't have a problem wi-"

	Coach Jackson looked him in the eye and extended is hand, giving
him a strong, respectful shake. "I really want to thank you, Carpenter. For
making sure Williams here is well taken care of while he's here. Giving him
a hole to put his loads into. Someone who really appreciates the
responsibility of being the one who gets the honor."

	John exhaled, feeling a little more at ease. "It's my
pleasure. Trust me." He laughed.

	"Yeah well, I'm gonna try and make it up to you." Coach Jackson
said as he lifted up his shirt and started pulling his shorts down.

	"Holy shit." John marveled at the giant man's muscles.

	"I told you the guy was built." Brad nudged him, proudly.

	"You weren't lying." John replied, looking him over.

	"Williams, make yourself useful and get us some lube." Coach
Jackson commanded him, boldly reaching out and pulling John into him from
the waist of his pants. "You know, you're pretty, Carpenter."

	"Thanks, I- uh. . ." John laughed. "I've never really had anyone
tell me that before."

	"I like pretty jocks like you." He replied, taking the initiative
to run his hand under his shirt and feel his body. "Fuck, gotta decent
build on you, too."

	Brad tossed the pair of them the lube, which John caught.

	"Where to, boss?" John asked, grinning.

	Coach Jackson reached into the hunky quarterback's pants and pulled
him with him to the bedroom, pushing him on the mattress and following him
down, kissing him.

	"Mmmm. . . ." He moaned, slipping his hand under John's shirt and
pulling it over him. "Decent kisser, too." He looked over at his own
athlete watching them from the doorway. "Williams, you god damn lucky son
of a bitch. Here I was pissed off at myself picturing you not getting laid
right like you fuckin should and the whole time you've been getting the
best of both fuckin worlds with me and pretty-boy Captain America here on
rotation, you prick."

	"I do alright." Brad grinned with a cocky smirk.

	"Ass. . ." Coach Jackson called him a second time, rolling his
eyes, going back to kiss John.

	At this point John had pulled his own pants down, his white
jockstrap wrapped around his waist, and was rubbing his hole with the lube
to get himself ready for the giant mound currently forming in Coach
Jackson's athletic shorts.

	"What the fuck are you doing, Carpenter?" Coach Jackson asked,
pulling back.

	"Well you don't expect me to take something that big completely
dry, do you?"

	"Give me that." The man insisted, taking the lube from him and
pulling his shorts down. His rock-hard beer-can cock slapped up against his
abs audibly.

	"Whoa. . . " John mumbled, eyes wide at the sight of such a big
cock.

	"I'm putting out for you, not the other way around." Coach Jackson
muttered, reaching behind him to lube himself up.

	"Oh no, I mean- I've never- I don't really-" John stammered.

	Coach Jackson looked over at Brad, smirking. "Williams, is this guy
as stupid as he looks or something? Because I've coached a few pretty jocks
who sure were stupid but none of them seemed stupid enough to say no to
pussy when it's right in front of them. . .?"

	John struggled to find the right words to say. "I really appreciate
the offer Mr. Jackson-"

	"Call me Dan."

	"Call him cockslut." Brad laughed.

	"You shut up, you cocky little prick." Coach Jackson said, honing
in on Brad.

	"I really appreciate the offer Dan, but I'm really more of a
bottom. . ."

	Coach Jackson reached out and grabbed a hold of John's rock-hard
cock tenting in his jockstrap. "Oh yeah? Then why did this thing get this
hard the second I told you you were gonna fuck me?"

	John was quiet for a bit. "Well, to be honest I've never gotten the
chance to fuck a guy before."

	"Bullshit." Coach Jackson scoffed. "A hotshot quarterback like you?
You must get more jock pussy than you know what to do with. Trust me. . ."
He said, eyeing his athlete. "I know how much tail pretty quarterbacks like
you are pulling in on the regular."

	Brad patted his teammate on the shoulder. "He thinks since he's not
hung like a horse or something that he doesn't have the right to top."

	"Well then I guess I was right." Coach Jackson pulled back. "You
really are an idiot, Carpenter."

	"I told you, man." Brad encouraged him. "Plenty of dudes would give
their left nut for the chance to get fucked by you."

	"You guys are just saying all this. . ." John replied, unsure of
himself. It was almost unreal how a guy as ruggedly good-looking as John
Carpenter could ever doubt himself. He was the quintessential football
star.

	"Coach. Did I put you up to any of this at all?"

	"Fuck no." Coach Jackson retorted. "I see a guy that deserves a
good hole to fuck and damn it if I'm not the man who's gonna give him one."

	"So you saw this guy and your first instinct was to put out for
him, right?"

	"'course." Dan nodded. "Watching him out on that field this
weekend? Could barely keep my legs closed this long."

	"Dude." Brad insisted. "Look at what Coach is packing."

	"I can see what he's packing." John laughed as Coach Jackson's cock
pulsed up and down, mightily.

	"He's hung bigger than anyone and that doesn't stop him from being
the biggest cockslut you'll ever meet. He doesn't let his size control what
he does to get off. And neither should you."

	Brad reached out pulled John's jockstrap over his cock, letting it
fall off his waist. John's cock was so hard it could cut stone right
now. "Do it, man. He's all yours."

	John looked his friend in the eye and nodded, gratefully.

	"I even made him shower and clean himself out after I fucked him
earlier so you'd have a nice, clean hole to work with." Brad said, smiling.

	John reached out and waved his cock around, his pulse
rushing. "Let's do it."

	Coach Jackson grabbed John's cock and squatted over him, lining it
up with his hole. "Now that's more like it." He muttered, sinking down on
it.

	"Oh man. . ."

	"Aw fuck. . . ."

	Coach Jackson's cock bobbed up and down each time he sank down on
him, John's cock prodding his prostate dead-on every single time.

	"Aw fuck Williams, he's right on my spot. . ." Coach Jackson
groaned, sinking down on him again and again.

	"Look at that." Brad pointed to Coach Jackson's big cock bobbing up
and down on its own. "That's your dick making him do that."

	A small grin spread across John Carpenter's face as he really
started to meet his thrusts, getting into it. It was like getting to live
out a fantasy. He'd spent his entire sexual adulthood conditioning himself
into being a bottom because of his own hang-ups, and now he was finally
getting to experience what it was like being on top for a change. And it
was entirely clear to him that this was no simple charity fuck. Dan Jackson
was all man and he was literally whimpering as he rode him because he was
making him feel so good.

	"Aw fuck, Williams, he's gonna bring me off like that." Coach
Jackson huffed, taking his hand away from his cock, wanting this to last.

	"Not yet, Coach." Brad shook his head, leaning in to kiss the giant
man and teasing his nipple.

	"But it feels so fuckin good. . ." He whined, willing himself not
to touch his leaking cock. "He couldn't miss my spot if he fuckin tried."

	Coach Jackson leaned back, resting on his elbows as he road him,
his eyes rolling into the back of his head. His giant cock towered over
them, hard as concrete with precum running down the sides, as he got
fucked. Because of the size and angle of John's cock, he wasn't just
brushing against the giant man's prostate, he was prodding it
head-on. Every time he sank down on it, more fluid would pool at the tip of
his cock as he was relentlessly milked from the inside.

	"Gah!" Coach Jackson grimaced, trying not to touch himself. "It
feels like I've been cumming this entire time!"

	"Is that good pussy or what?" Brad grinned, loving seeing the pair
of them enjoying each other.

	"It feels amazing." John groaned, thrusting into him.

	"God damn it- aw fuck, Williams, I can't hold it-" Coach Jackson
whimpered, digging his fingers into the sheets, desperately.

	"Do it, John!" Brad yelled. "Make him cum!"

	"Aw fuuuuck!!!" Coach Jackson roared as he started shooting all
over his chest, completely untouched.

	John watched in awe as his cock made this colossal musclestud shoot
his load without even touching his cock; just the sensations his own dick
inside of him forcing his load out from the inside.

	"That's my cockslut. . ." Brad praised the giant man, playing with
his nipple, affectionately. "How did that feel, Coach?"

	"Fanfuckingtastic.. . " Coach Jackson groaned, slowly going up and
down on John's cock, catching his breath.

	"I can't believe he got you to cum without touching yourself on his
first try."

	"Fuck, I tried to hold it off, but he just felt so fuckin good,
Williams."

	"See, John?" Brad grinned, giving his teammate a congratulatory
shoulder rub as he continued to fuck his boyfriend in his bed. "A good top
always makes sure his bottom gets off first. Now fuck him for you. Get your
nut. This is about you, now."

	John wiped the sweat from his brow and thrust into him in deep,
hard strokes.

	"Harder." Brad encouraged him. "He can take it."

	"Aw fuck. . ." Coach Jackson moaned, bracing himself.

	"You're in charge, John. Manhandle him."

	"Aw fuck!" Coach Jackson yelled, the sound of the quarterback
slamming into him filling the room.

	"Take charge, John! This is your nut now! Make him work for it!"

	John reached up to the giant man's chest and pushed him down,
sending the giant muscleman onto his back, legs up, leaning over him and
fucking him hard.


	"Yeah, man!" Brad egged him on, loving seeing his reserved teammate
taking charge. He was suddenly aware of the sense of pride he felt in
teaching a fellow jock how to top like a man.

	"God damn that's good. . ." Coach Jackson groaned, rolling his head
into the sheets in pleasure, his toes curling.

	"Make him look at you, John. Make him feel it."

	John grabbed Coach Jackson's face and turned it to him, giving him
100% eye contact as he sank his dick into him, prodding his prostate
mercilessly each time he went back in for more.

	"Mmmmmmm. . ." Coach Jackson drooled, slam-fucked against the
headboard.

	"Make him feel every single time you pull out and go back in,
John. The guy loves it when you pull all the way out and let his pussy lips
close around your cock and then push back in again."

	"Fuck, he's gonna bring me off again, Williams!" Coach Jackson
cried out, his arms wrapped around the quarterback, pulling him in.

	John focused his entire concentration on slamming into the giant
man as hard as possible, instantly knowing which spots the man responded to
most, wanting to inflict the most pleasure on him as possible.

	"AW FUUUCK!" Coach Jackson bellowed, his cock jumping on its own,
as his toes curled in the air, feeling the warm sensation of another
prostate orgasm coursing through his veins.

	A tiny trickle of cum pulsed out of his cockhead into the grooves
of his abs, having shot only moments ago, but the look on his face was pure
ecstasy.

	John felt his own nut coming on and seeing the way he had so
expertly fucked his devoted bottom, his determination to finally consummate
his act as a top put him in overdrive, slamming into the warm, velvety
tunnel nurturing his cock and shooting, feeling his cock jump as each shot
erupted from him and into the burly musclestud underneath him. It was the
first time he'd ever experienced the sensation of inseminating another
man. And he couldn't get over how natural it felt.

	"God damn. . ." Coach Jackson sighed, reaching up to run his hands
along the quarterback's perfectly sculpted pecs.

	Brad let them catch their breath, slowly jacking himself off,
knowing the fun had just started. "How do you feel, buddy?" He asked,
rubbing his teammate's shoulder.

	"I feel-" John panted. "I feel amazing."

	"You earned every bit of that, you understand me, Carpenter?" Coach
Jackson said, looking him in the eye.

	John dipped his finger in a bit of leftover cum pooling in Coach
Jackson's abs. "You know, you're still pretty hard."

	"Can't really blame me after that fuck you just threw me." Coach
Jackson laughed, copping a feel at the quarterback's pecs.

	"You know, I really meant it earlier when I said I'd like to take
this thing." John said, wrapping his hand around the mighty cock below him.

	Brad grinned. "Go for it, Coach."

	"Aw, fuck yeah!" Dan cheered, rolling over and standing up,
grabbing the lube. "It would have been such a fuckin shame to not get a
piece of this ass." He said, cupping John's perfect cheeks and teasing him.

	"Don't think you're off the hook yet, Coach." Brad told him,
pushing his finger through inside the giant man's hole and smearing some of
the leftover cum around his own cock.

	"Oh, you fuckers are just spoiling me now."

	After John had applied enough lube to himself, Coach Jackson gently
pressed his thick cockhead against the handsome quarterback's opening,
pushing forward slowly.

	"You don't have to go easy on me." John laughed, pushing his ass
back and easily taking him to the hilt. "I'm used to taking Coach Driver,
remember?"

	"God damn, Driver's been getting this hole regular? Lucky fucker."
Coach Jackson muttered, thrusting into him, enjoying the sensation of being
on top for a change, picking it back up again like riding a bike.

	"Driver's not the only one getting that hole regular." Brad
grinned, lining his own cock with Coach Jackson's red, puffy, used hole.

	"Do it, Williams!" Coach Jackson encouraged his athlete, preparing
himself for the intrusion.

	"Maaaan, I love a used cunt." Brad said, throwing his head back in
pleasure as he sank into him, loving the slickness of John's load easing
his entry. "Dang, John, how much did you shoot in here?"

	"All I know is it felt really, really good." John laughed before
groaning as Coach Jackson's huge cock pushed into him over and over again.

	"Aw fuck, that's it, Williams." Coach Jackson groaned as each time
he slammed in and out of the handsome pretty-boy quarterback he pushed
himself back onto more jock dick. The giant muscleman had simply died and
gone to heaven.

	"God, I love seeing you top, Coach." Brad muttered in his ear,
pulling his face to his, slipping his tongue into his mouth.

	"Yeah, Williams?" The man grinned, pulling at his lip with his
teeth. "It turn you on that I still know how to fuck like the best of
them?"

	"Big time." Brad replied, kissing him.

	John groaned underneath them as he enjoyed Coach Jackson's big,
thick cock railing into him, and Brad reached down and brought his
teammate's face to his, kissing him, the three of their tongues meeting one
another as they pleasured one another.

	"Aw fuck. . ." Coach Jackson whimpered, pulling away. "Williams,
you gotta stop dicking my spot like that or I'm gonna cum again."

	Brad grinned, slowing down a little, wrapping his arms around the
giant muscleman and playing with his tits.

	Coach Jackson squirmed in pleasure, his efforts to slow his orgasm
failing fast. "Carpenter, you gotta stop massaging my cock like that with
your hole or I'm gonna cum!"

	A sly grin slowly spread across Brad's face, kissing his teammate
and then pulling away. "What do you say we drive the poor guy crazy?"

	"You got it." John replied, leaning down again on all fours and
pushing back onto Coach Jackson hard as Brad absolutely pummeled him from
behind, slamming into the poor giant man with powerful strokes.

	"AW FUCK!!" Coach Jackson yelled, unprepared for so many sensations
at once. "YOU LITTLE FUCKERS!"

	"What, too much for you, Coach?" Brad smirked, slamming into him
mercilessly, breaking a sweat.

	"FU-UH-U-UH-U-UH-K!" The poor man yelled, grunting each time Brad
hit bottom inside of him. "I'm- I'm gonna-"

	"Stop!" Brad yelled, with John and Brad completely halting any
movement at all.

	Coach Jackson opened his eyes, confused and frustrated.

	"You cocky little fuckers!" He shouted angrily, reaching his
massive arm behind him and giving his athlete a spank so loud it echoed
around the room.

	"OW, what the fuck, Coach?" Brad winced, unprepared for the sharp
pain he felt on his ass from what was sure to leave a red mark for a
while. "That really fucking hurt!"

	Coach Jackson turned his head, looking his athlete right in the eye
and raising his hand again. "If you don't start fucking the shit out of me
by the time I say three, I'll give you another one twice as fuckin hard as
the first one."

	He waited as Brad, rubbed the sting he felt on his right ass cheek.

	"One." Coach Jackson said, angrily, raising his hand and winding
up.

	"Two."

	"Shut the fuck up, Coach." Brad muttered, pushing Coach Jackson
down onto John's back and railing into him as hard as possible.

	"Yeah!" Coach Jackson encouraged him, feeling John push back onto
him in time with Brad's thrusts.

	"I'm shooting!" John announced, his hole clamping around Coach
Jackson's big cock inside of him as he shot all over the bed sheets below
them.

	"Aw fuck, that's gonna do it!" Coach Jackson muttered through
gritted teeth as he felt his orgasm beginning to rise.

	"I'm beating you to it, Coach!" Brad yelled, slamming into him one
final time before unleashing his mammoth load inside of him, shooting so
far into the giant muscleman he swore he was reaching virgin territory
inside the veteran cockslut.

	A moment later Coach Jackson was spraying the walls of John
Carpenter's perfect tunnel, almost collapsing from the pleasure of getting
to cum with his cock up someone's ass while he himself was fully impaled on
his athlete's cock.

	For a moment they were all in their own worlds, enjoying the
sensations running through their bodies as they rode their orgasms, before
coming back to reality and leaning against one another, fully connected as
one.

	"Jesus fuckin Christ. . ." Coach Jackson muttered, as Brad slowly
pulled out of him, making sure he didn't spill a drop, wanting his load
inside him where it belonged. John Carpenter slowly pulled off of him,
making sure to do the same.

	Coach Jackson still had the shakes from having been so overwhelmed
with pleasure from such intense sensations from both ends.

	"Man, Coach, you really got me." Brad winced, turning to show the
deep, red hand-shaped mark where the man had slapped his ass earlier.

	"Yeah well you fuckin deserved it, Williams." The giant man
muttered, pulling his athlete in for a quick kiss. "Cocky little fucker
teasing me like that."

	"Hmmpf." Brad responded, pressing his cum-slicked cock up to Coach
Jackson's lips. "Well the least you can do is clean me off as a thank you
for fucking that load out of you like that."

	"So fuckin worth it." Coach Jackson grinned, opening up to accept
his athlete's cock in his mouth, making sure he licked up any trace of cum
he could.

	"Alright stop! Stop!" Brad cringed, his cockhead way too sensitive.

	Coach Jackson popped it out of his mouth, turning to John, opening
up and doing the same. Unlike Brad, however, John didn't flinch as the
giant man licked up and around his cockhead for any trace of cum he could
find.

	"I can't get over how great topping felt." John sighed, pulling his
cock out and slapping it against Coach Jackson's cheek, playing around with
him. "You think I could go again real quick?"

	Coach Jackson made a move to enthusiastically nod his consent
before he realized John was waiting for Brad to respond to him, silencing
him again by slipping his cock into his mouth.

	Apparently the mighty Coach Jackson was just a toy for these two
jocks to use, and he didn't have a say in whether his pussy was fair game
for another round.

	And that really fucking turned him on.

	"Go ahead, man." Brad grinned, pushing Coach Jackson down onto his
back, the giant man spreading his legs, obediently, giving him access to
his hole once again. "He's all yours."
						-


	The week seemed to crawl by slowly as midterm exams started to rear
their ugly head. Brad Williams woke up bright and early Wednesday morning,
his alarm clock going off, much to his chagrin. Crumpled up sheets of paper
and textbooks were strewn all around his bedroom. He had an intro to
business class at 9 and he'd spent practically all night studying for his
calculus exam later that afternoon.

	It was going to be a long day.

	He checked his phone and he had two missed calls from `CEO pussy',
or as Forbes Magazine called him in their latest issue, Greg Foster.

	He laughed to himself as he threw his shirt on. This was the fourth
time Greg Foster had called him this week. He would have picked up the
first time if it hadn't been for John Carpenter going above and beyond the
line of duty in keeping his balls drained regularly. Besides. . .he liked
making the CEO executive wait in anticipation. He figured Greg Foster was
going to be in town over the weekend or something and wanted to make sure
he'd get the opportunity to suck him off before he jetted off back home.

	He had another text message. This time from none other than John
Carpenter, who evidently had earned the right to be referred to as such on
his contacts list instead of a crude nickname.

John Carpenter: Hey man, I got pulled into a fraternity thing tonight I
can't get out of. Want to fuck at your place this afternoon instead?

	Brad's morning wood gave a pulse as he thought about the team
quarterback's perfect hole. He started tapping away as he repositioned
himself in his boxers.

Brad Williams: got a huge exam this afternoon. sucks. was really horny too

John Carpenter: Lunch? [eggplant emoji]

Brad Williams: sure. glad u could squeeze me in

	He chuckled to himself at his stupid joke as he stuffed is phone
back into his pocket.

						-

	There were a lot of empty seats in the auditorium-style business
class that morning so he picked a seat off to the side and yawned as he
rested his head down . He felt his phone vibrating and retrieved it from
his pocket. Another missed call from `CEO pussy' . He figured he'd let the
poor guy keep this up for another day or two and then he'd finally pick up
before the weekend was up. After all, he did get off on using the handsome
executive to get off. There was literally nothing Greg Foster wasn't
willing to do.

	His professor walked across the bottom of the room to the podium
and cleared his throat. "Good morning everyone. I see a lot of your
classmates seem to have remembered we were having a guest speaker this
morning." He laughed, addressing the numerous empty seats scattered across
the auditorium. "I'm really excited about you all having the opportunity to
listen to this gentleman and we're extremely lucky to have such a
prestigious guest to accept the invitation to give a guest lecture when I
extended it."

	Brad's head perked up as he listened and slowly began to sit
up. No. . . it couldn't be.

	His professor looked back to the door and gestured for the guest
lecturer to come in.

	The door opened and Brad Williams's jaw dropped as he watched Greg
Foster, the CEO cockslut he'd been fucking on and off for the past 6
months, confidently walk across the room to the podium as the auditorium
was filled with applause, setting a few note cards down on the podium and
nodding to the class.

	A couple of girls behind him started giggling. "He's cute!"

	"I know!"

	Brad couldn't believe this. It was just too perfect. And the icing
on the cake was the fact that, from the confident, poised demeanor in which
the executive businessman carried himself, the man had absolutely no idea
that the object of his obsession was less than 20 feet away from him,
staring down at him from the back of the class, shrouded in darkness.

	"Hello, everyone." He nodded as his eyes adjusted to the light. "My
name is Greg Foster. Some of you all may know me as CEO of Foster
Electronics."

	The class applauded again before he continued, which he handled
well, humbly bowing his head.

	"Thank you, thank you. Professor Stewart here reached out to me and
asked if I would give a guest lecture to his Intro to Business class and
the reason I accepted is because I think it's so crucial to start thinking
about the business world as early as possible. Young, innovative minds such
as yourselves are going to mold the world as we know it. And it's happening
sooner than you think."

	He clicked his remote control device and a powerpoint appeared on
the screen behind him.

	Brad was still trying to wrap his head around this. This was a
completely different side of Greg Foster he hadn't yet seen before. This
wasn't the cock-hungry slut who knelt down at his feet begging to suck him
off whenever he had the chance. This was Greg Foster, CEO extraordinaire.

	He listened as Mr. Foster continued his lecture, absolutely
commanding the entire room with his authority and intellect. His cock was
rock-hard, knowing all the girls swooning around him were dreaming about
sleeping with him while he literally could, and had, text him for sex
whenever he wanted it.

	He decided to have a little bit of fun.

	Shrouded in complete darkness from the dimly lit stage, Brad
Williams quietly gathered his things and moved down to the front row of
seats, sitting down on the aisle.

	"And so what we're seeing here on a larger scale is a rapid
increase in what we call "brand diversification" which essentially amounts
to-"

	All of the sudden he stopped. His eyes locked onto Brad Williams
and he couldn't look away.

	"Wh- which essentially amounts to. . ."

	Brad maintained 100% eye contact with him , unflinching.

	"Sorry about that." Greg Foster laughed, wiping his brow and
turning back to the screen. "Which essentially amounts to the different
aspects that make a brand unique." He pulled up a graph on his next
slide. "Now take a look at these figures in red."

	This was too great of an opportunity to pass up. Brad decided to
turn up the pressure a little bit. Knowing absolutely no one else in the
room could see what he was doing except his prey, he spread his legs apart,
feigning a yawn, and slowly reached inside his pants and started to move
his cock around, the large indentation in the fabric painfully obvious at
the slightest glance.

	"And that's important for us to examine closer because it's the
sole reason we-"

	His voice stopped abruptly as he took in the sight in front of him.

Why was Brad Williams doing this to him?

This was torture.

 The entire audience had their attention solely focused on him and all he
could do what stare at this football jock playing with himself in the dark
that only he could see.

	Brad saw the look on his face. He could swear the man started
drooling. If it weren't for the giant podium in front of him he was sure
the mound running down the man's leg would be obscene.

	"Greg?" Professor Stewart asked, concerned. "Can we get you some
water?"

	 Greg Foster looked directly into Brad's eyes. "Please. . ." He
whimpered. And even though his professor took that as a reply to his
question and hastily rushed a cup of water to him, running back to his
seat, Brad Williams knew that helpless plea was just for him.

	Alright. Enough fun.

	For now.

	Brad smoothly slipped his hand out of his pants and, just as
quietly as he had before, gathered his things and went back to his seat in
the back of the class, going back into the darkness, out of view.



	"As I was saying." He Mr. Foster laughed, clearing his throat, the
power immediately coming back to him as he gazed at the faceless audience
in front of him. "It's important for us to examine these figures here more
closely because they enable us to predict where exactly the business
climate is heading."

						-

	As the lights turned back on and everyone started filtering out of
the auditorium, Brad Williams held back, waiting as the last student in
front of him shook the CEO executive's hand.

	"Fascinating lecture Mr. . . Forrester, was it?" Brad grinned,
leaning in and evading Greg Foster's effort for a handshake and grabbing
his ass instead.

	"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Greg whispered,
panicking. "Do you have any idea how badly you could have messed things up
back there?"

	"Aw, don't beat yourself up too hard, Mr. F." Brad replied,
cockily. "I promise the second you started playing with yourself right
there in front of everyone I would have put a stop to it."

	Mr. Foster looked around nervously, making sure they weren't being
overheard.

	Brad continued. "So what are you doing here, cockslut?"

	Greg motioned for him to lower his voice, speaking to him
calmly. "I tried calling you. I had to see you."

	It was then Greg realized they were walking. Or rather, he was
being led.

	"Had to see me?" Brad mocked him. "Tell me something, Mr. F, and be
honest. What did you really come here for? To give a lecture as an esteemed
guest or to get down on your knees and suck me off?"

	His silence gave him all the answer he needed.

	". . . where are you taking me?" The man asked nervously as they
walked down the halls, as if he didn't have the freedom to walk away if he
chose to do so. His footsteps followed obediently; magnetized to the
athlete leading the way.

	Brad turned into the men's bathroom and without even making sure
they were alone, he pushed the CEO executive into the first available stall
and locked it behind them.

	"I don't have any lube on me so get on your knees and suck my cock
to it ready." He pushed the man's head down so he was right at his crotch.

	Greg Foster dug into his pocket and retrieved a packet of lube,
shoving it in his hand.

	"God, you really are a slut." Brad smirked, taking it from
him. "Good. I didn't have time for one of your long, drawn-out blowjobs
anyway. Turn around."

	As Mr. Foster slowly made a move to comply, Brad reached around the
man's waist and forced him against the back of the wall, bending him over
the toilet.

	In a flash, Greg Foster felt the thick, lubed up cockhead at his
opening and winced as it pushed into him in one motion.

	"Gah!" He grunted as Brad hit bottom inside of him, unprepared to
be taken so forcefully.

	"Quit the whole charade, Mr. F. You know you want this."

	"Oh god, I want it. . ." The man groaned, his eyes rolling into the
back of his head. "God, I want it."

	This wasn't going to be one of Brad Williams's signature slow,
intimate fucks. From the way he was pounding the handsome CEO it was clear
he was going for a nut as fast as possible. He could feel what Greg Foster
wanted from him. No, needed from him. He wanted to be treated like the
cockslut he so desperately wanted to be. He wanted to be used. And it was
at that moment Brad decided he was going to give that to him.

	They could hear the bustle of foot traffic outside the bathroom as
dozens of people walked by.

	The sounds Greg Foster was making each time Brad sank into him were
almost feminine. He had absolutely no inhibitions as he happily let this
cocky athlete have his hole. He'd been dreaming of this reunion for months
now.

	"Quit with the moaning." Brad told him, slamming into him. "You
know I don't like it when you sound too much like a whore."

	The CEO executive's button up dress shirt hung open at his sides,
with his tie hanging down from his neck, dangling in the toilet, getting
more and more saturated with each thrust Brad made into him. Four minutes
ago he was commanding an entire auditorium with his power and
authority. And here he was now, pushed down over a toilet, getting fucked
like a cheap whore.

	"AH! AH! AH! AH!" Greg Foster moaned like a whore in heat as he was
absolutely railed with no remorse.

	"I said shut up, slut." Brad muttered in his ear as he grabbed his
tie, bunching it up, and stuffing it in his mouth.

	"MMM! MMM! MMM!" The man moaned, as Brad felt the hole enveloping
his cock constricting uncontrollably.

	He looked down and saw the man shooting cum all over his dress
shoes, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, as he strained his hands
on the back of the toilet, holding himself up.

	"God, you're shameless." Brad panted, spanking the business man
hard on the ass.

	Just as Brad was about to go for his own nut, the bathroom door
swung opened and he stopped, listening.

	They heard a belt buckle being undone by the urinals and waited.

	Drip.

	They both immediately looked down as a thick remnant of cum dripped
from Greg Foster's cock to the floor audibly, his orgasm ramping down.

	Before they started to panic they heard the guy at the urinal let
loose and his stream hitting the porcelain as he relieved his bladder.

	Once he was finishing up he flushed and was on his way.

	The second the door closed again, Brad slammed the CEO executive
against the wall over the toilet and resumed his pace, sinking all the way
into him in deep, hard, strokes.

	He felt his balls rising as he felt his orgasm coming on.

	He ripped the tie gag from the man's mouth and brought his mouth up
to his ear, slamming into him, knowing exactly what the wealthy executive
so desperately wanted to hear from the object of his obsession for so long.

	"What are you, Mr. F? Are you some hot-shot billionaire or are you
my bitch?"

	Slam! Slam! Slam! He smashed into him seconds from unleashing his
load.

	"Oh fuck! I'm your bitch!" The man replied, bracing himself.

	"Say it!" Brad yelled, about to shoot.

	"I'm your bitch!"

	"Louder!"

	"I'M YOUR BITCH!!! I'M YOUR BITCH!!!!"

	Instantly he started shooting deep inside the wealthy executive,
pinning him against the wall as he inseminated him, feeling the hole around
his cock squeezing uncontrollably again as the vocal admission sent Greg
Foster into overdrive, shooting a second load all over the toilet seat as
he admitted what he really was, outloud, pinned under him and fucked into
oblivion.

	Still shooting more and more cum into him, Brad pulled out, turning
the man around and pushing him down, shooting all over his tie, the last of
his cum slowly dripping out and collecting on the fabric.

	"Wipe yourself off, bitch." Brad muttered, continuing to play up
the CEO executive's fantasy, smearing the fabric all over the handsome
man's face and hair and pulling his own pants up.

	He unlocked the stall, giving his hands a quick wash. He turned
back as he got to the door. If he craned his neck low enough he could make
out the man's designer luxury pants as he sat there spread on the bathroom
floor, covered in cum, catching his breath as he came down from his
high. "I want you to jack yourself off three more times before you clean
yourself off and leave that stall."

	He heard no answer.

	"Got it, bitch?"

	As his reply he heard the unmistakable sound of a man beginning to
play with himself, a soft moan echoing from the stall.

	"Oh and keep that lube with you and your phone on at all times this
weekend. You're an on-call cocksucker until further notice." Brad added as
he pushed the door open.

	"I'm- I'm flying out Friday." Greg replied, weakly.

"You're going to change it to Sunday. I'm not finished with you yet." He
waited and the man made no effort to argue. "I'll be in touch, Mr. F." And
with that, he let the bathroom door close behind him.

						-

	Football practice seemed even more brutal than usual as the team
finally marched back to the locker room to shower off after a hot afternoon
of drills in the sun.

	Brad and John Carpenter walked with one another into the showers
with the rest of the team, soaping each other's backs, which wasn't at all
uncommon between members of the team.

	"Excited about something, Eddy?" One of the guys on the team
laughed, pointing at another guy's erection.

	"Man, shut up." Eddy laughed, embarrassed. "I dumped my
ex-girlfriend for good this time and times are hard."

	"Yeah. . ." Another guy chided him. "I think we can all see that."

	"Sorry about that, dude." The first guy said. "I know how you
feel. I was getting laid around the clock at the start of the semester and
I swear all the pussy's dried up."

	"For real!"

	"It's ridiculous!" A guy in back nodded. "Took a new girl out last
weekend and dropped $70 for the bill. . . All I got from her was one lousy
kiss at her doorstep. Not even with tongue. Since when was I paying $70 to
just jack off at home?"

	Brad couldn't help but chime in with a cocky grin. "Can't say I
really know what you guys are going through. . ."

	"Oh fuck you, Brad." One of the guys smiled, laughing. "Man, I
swear, college would be 10 times easier if I was into dudes."

	"It really is." Brad nodded, working John's back muscles with his
hand as he massaged the soap in.

	"Hey, a mouth's a mouth, right?"

	"Yeah, well go blow yourself, man." Brad laughed. "I don't blow
straight dudes."

	"Hey, it was worth a shot." The guy shrugged.

	Another teammate cleared his throat. "So you said you don't blow
straight dudes. . . you wouldn't happen to know someone who does, would
you?"

	Brad expected the rest of the guys to pile on the jokes, roasting
the guy for even suggesting something like that, but he looked around and
every single one of his teammates was looking him right in the eye, hanging
on his every word.

	"Holy shit." Brad said, looking around. "You guys are serious,
aren't you?"

	"You kidding, man? My balls are so blue I'd let a dude blow me and
I'd take him out to dinner just to show how grateful I am."

	A couple of the guys laughed and nodded with him.

	"Alright." Brad said, getting serious. "No shame here. Give me a
show of hands. How many of you guys are serious? And no, getting a blowjob
from a dude doesn't mean you're gay."

	One by one every single one of his teammates slowly raised their
hand, feeling an immense weight lifted off their shoulders.

	"You know what, fellas?" Brad grinned, running his hair under the
water as he thought. "I think I might just know a cockslut so depraved he'd
do just about anything to take you guys up on that."

					-

	"So guess who I ran into this afternoon, Coach?" Brad Williams
grinned as Coach Jackson stared back at him from his computer screen. The
mighty muscleman had just thrown off his shirt and had his dildo out, ready
to work his pussy over like mad, hoping his athlete would control his pace
and give him some good old-fashioned dirty talk to push him over the edge.

	"I don't give a shit who you ran into, Williams, now are you gonna
tell me how you want me to fuck myself with this thing or not?" He lined up
the exact replica of his athlete's cock with his opening and closed his
eyes, preparing to press forward.

	"Put my cock down, Coach." Brad commanded him.

	"Aw fuck, just let me slip it in, Williams. . ." Coach Jackson
whined, frustrated.

	"I'll let you get off in a minute, alright?"

	"Fine. " Coach Jackson grunted, annoyed. "This better be good."

	"So who do you think is shameless enough to set up a guest lecture
at the university just on the off chance that he'd be able to call me up
and let me know he'd be in the area in case I wanted him to suck me off?"

	"Oh. . ." Coach Jackson rolled his eyes. "Guess Greg Foster needed
his jock cock fix."

	"I don't know why you're so bitchy about him." Brad laughed. "Don't
act like you don't do the same thing, Coach."

	"It's different when I do it!" The giant man insisted, stubbornly.

	"How do you figure that, Coach?" Brad laughed.

	"It- because I- I mean- Oh shut the fuck up, Williams, it's just
different when I do it, okay?"

	"Uh huh. . ." Brad replied, skeptically.

	"Did you fuck him." Coach Jackson muttered, sounding a little too
jealous.

	"Threw him into the nearest bathroom stall and dropped a load into
him right over the toilet."

	The giant man's cock instantly bobbed up and down at the thought.

	"Was he grateful for it? For you load?"

	"Of course he was. It's like the guy gets a high from my cum."

	"Well good." Coach Jackson replied, a little surly. "You know I'm
gonna have you take me to that same stall in that bathroom and you're gonna
fuck me even better than you did him next time I'm down there, don't you?"

	"Yeah, I figured you'd say that."

	"No matter how good that little wannabe cockslut puts out for you I
will always put out better, you understand me, Williams?"

	"You don't have to convince me of that, Coach." Brad replied,
throwing his hands up. "I'm not complaining."

	"Well good." Coach Jackson smirked. He reached down for the
dildo. "Now will you let me get off already or do you want to keep pissing
me off going on about Greg fuckin Foster?"

	"When I'm finished." Brad went on, with Coach Jackson rolling his
eyes, setting it down again.

Brad paused for a moment, knowing if he wanted to get what he wanted, he
had to present it in the right way. It had to be Coach Jackson's idea in
order for this all to work the way he wanted it to.

"So after I fucked Mr. Foster I told the guy he'd be my on-call cocksucker
this weekend day or night, and-"

	"Lucky son of a bitch. . . " Coach Jackson muttered, clenching his
fists in jealousy. "I'd be on that jock cock of yours so fuckin fast. . ."

	"Would you shut up and let me finish?"

	The giant man rolled his eyes and made no attempt to interrupt him.

	"As I was saying." Brad continued. "I let him know he'd be my
on-call cocksucker all weekend and then an idea hit me."

	"Uh huh. . ."

	"All the guys on the team won't shut up about their blueballs and
how they aren't getting any pussy from the chicks on campus."

	"Ungrateful bitches. . . " Coach Jackson clenched his fists again.

	"And get this, Coach. Some of the straight guys on the team
actually asked me if I knew someone who would be willing to suck them
off. And so of course I thought, who better than CEO extraordinaire Greg
Foster?"

	He waited, hoping the giant man would take the bait.

	Coach Jackson was silent for a moment before pounding his fist onto
the table next to him, pissed off. "God damn it, Williams!"

	"What, Coach?" Brad asked, feigning confusion.

	""Who better to suck off an entire team of jocks than Greg
Foster?"" Coach Jackson mimicked him, angry.

	"Oh come on, Coach, I know you're a real slut, but would you really
be willing to get on your knees and suck off an entire football team full
of straight guys one by one, no questions asked?"

	"Of fucking course I would! God damn it, Williams!" Coach Jackson
cursed again, pissed off. "What the fuck else can I possibly do to prove to
you I'm the best fuckin cockslut around?"

	Brad could barely keep a straight face. The man was falling for
it. Hook, line, and sinker.

	"I guess I'm sorry Coach, I didn't realize-"

	"When is this happening." Coach Jackson demanded.

	"Oh come on, Coach, you're not really ser-"

	"When is this happening."

	"This weekend."

	"Done." Coach Jackson muttered, crossing his arms.

	"What do you mean? What about that big game you keep talking about?
I thought you couldn't make it down here for another two weeks?"

	"Yeah well I still can't but that was before I heard I'd be missing
the jock cock buffet of the fucking century. I don't care what I have to
move around. I'll be there."

	"Well man, I guess Mr. Foster is going to be disappointed when I
tell him-"

	"No. I want Foster there."

	Now this actually caught Brad off-guard. This wasn't part of the
plan. He knew using Greg Foster as competition to convince Coach Jackson to
drop his plans and come down for the weekend was a good strategy, but he
hadn't considered the fact that Coach Jackson actually wanted to make this
a literal competition between the two insatiable cocksluts.

	"You want Mr. Foster there?"

	"I'm going to show that little bitch once and for all who the best
cockslut is. I want that guy to know he will always be second best when it
comes to putting out for jock cock." The giant man said proudly. "And be
sure when you give him the news that he knows I'll be flying out there on
his dime."

	"Well okay, Coach." Brad grinned, thinking this couldn't have
possibly gone any better if he'd tried. "I guess the guys on the team will
be pretty relieved to hear that you're going to make sure their blueballs
situation is going to be attended to this weekend."

	"I want you to go bigger, Williams."

	"Bigger. . . ?"

	"Bigger. I want to suck football jock cock. Baseball jock
cock. Lacrosse cock. Fuck, I'll even suck chess club cock. Doesn't matter
to me. No loads turned away. If there's a single dude on fraternity row who
goes to bed without his balls drained then I haven't done my fuckin
job. Have I made myself clear?"

	"Yes sir." Brad grinned, never ceased to be impressed by the giant
man staring back at him from the screen.

	"Now," Coach Jackson muttered, picking up his dildo and lubing it
up. "Are you gonna tell me how you want me to fuck my pussy already or are
you gonna keep dicking me around until I break this fuckin computer against
the wall?"

	"Alright, go on and slide it in your pussy, Coach." Brad
laughed. "I think you've earned it."


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