Date: Sat, 18 Mar 2017 07:57:48 +0000 (UTC)
From: jhtravus <jhtravus@yahoo.com>
Subject: Horny Exchange Student Chapter 49

Only one chapter left! This is your last chance to send in your input and
comments before we reach the end. You never know what might make its way in
to chapter 50 for these four horny guys.

jhtravus@yahoo.com

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/jhtravus-gay-fiction


	Chapter 49



As Brad Williams listened to his English professor go on and on about
medieval literature his eyelids began to slowly fall, jerking himself awake
for a moment only to find himself nodding off again and repeating the cycle
of fighting off the urge to sleep. He looked at the clock and was relieved
to see this second morning class was mercifully coming to an end soon.

	When his professor finally dismissed them, he grabbed his backpack
and casually made his way toward one of the less frequented restrooms on
the fourth floor.

	He smiled as he pushed through the door and saw those familiar
fancy, designer dress pants and shiny oxblood shoes under the last stall,
right where he knew they'd be.

	"No, not next week, I need those numbers finalized and sent
directly to me by tomorrow afternoon." Greg Foster's voice echoed around
the empty public restroom, his commanding tone reflecting his CEO
status. "They're a start-up! They don't have the kind of clout to be making
those kinds of demands.  You can let them know they can try their luck
extending that offer to anyone in Silicon Valley and see how far that gets
them. I've received four other offers since this morning that would jump at
the amount of resources and manpower I'm willing to allocate on this
deal. This is how business is done in this technological climate. They can
either get with the times and agree to the terms or try it with someone
else and go out of business by the end of next quarter. Every analyst in
the business is projecting them to be up 36% by this time next year if they
sign with us, and that will only go up the year after. I'll have their
software universal and on every device in the first world if I want it to
be. They need us a hell of a lot more than we need them and they know
that."

	Brad shook his head, laughing, as he walked up to the stall door
and pushed it open, finding the CEO executive backward on the commode, back
turned to him, with his phone resting on his shoulder as he spoke, two
laptops open and laying on the toilet tank as he sat, neatly dressed, going
over business projections and hard analytics. Charts and graphs with red
and green numbers blared from the screens. He even had a cup of coffee
sitting on the toilet paper dispenser.

 	Brad had to hand it to him. The guy had turned this tiny bathroom
stall into a fully functioning office.  There's a reason Greg Foster had
made his first billion and was running his own empire by the time he was
30.

	"Really like what you've done with the place, Mr. F." Brad smirked,
breaking him out of his focus.

	The handsome businessman turned his head around and noted Brad's
arrival, holding a finger up to indicate he'd be finishing up momentarily.

	The look on Brad's face after the gesture was unmistakable. Greg
Foster knew he'd fucked up.

	"I- I have to hang up now." He said into the phone, the confident,
authoritative CEO persona instantly fading, only to be replaced by the
submissive cockslut that truly personified him.

	The other person on the line sounded confused and pressed to keep
their conversation going, but the man was already hanging up.

	He put the phone down near one of his computers and slowly turned
around on the seat, gulping as he stared up at the cocky football player.

	Without saying a word, he reached up to undo the hunky athlete's
belt, pulling the zipper down, and retrieving Brad Williams's hardening
cock from inside.

	Without even hesitating his lips were on it, sucking it into his
mouth eagerly, and letting out an audible moan as he licked around the head
and took it deeper into his throat.

	"Easy, easy, slut." Brad muttered, pulling out a little and patting
his cockhead against the CEO executive's lips. "Two loads already before 11
am, I'm still a little sensitive from when I let you blow me that second
time before class."

	Greg Foster nodded urgently, wrapping his lips around the cock in
front of him once more, but maintaining a softer, more sensual pace.

	Brad leaned his head back and enjoyed the sensations the man's
tongue and throat made on his cock, letting out a deep, sigh.

	It'd been the beginning of a long day, with two classes already and
another to go before noon. The only thing that seemed to make it better was
having CEO extraordinaire Greg Foster blow him in between classes, now
eagerly working on a third one for the morning to join the two already
happily in his stomach.

	"Just like that, bitch." Brad said to him, running his fingers
through the man's hair as he sent more of his cock down his throat. "That's
a good slut."

	The man's efforts seemed to only get more sensual; more
appreciative, as he gratefully worked over the cock with his tongue and
throat he craved so deeply.

	"My next class is an exam." Brad said, pulling out and then back
in, causing the executive to resist the urge to gag as he skillfully opened
up his throat to allow his sinking cockhead into the bottom of his throat
in one motion. "That's over on the other end of campus." He repeated his
motions again, this time grabbing the back of the man's head and roughly
face-fucking him for a few deep strokes before releasing his grasp and
slapping his cock against the side of the man's face, giving him a chance
to cough and collect himself before letting him take it in his mouth
again. He swayed so that his dick left a wet trail over the distinguished
businessman's face as he held his head in place. "I figure while I'm taking
my exam you'll have enough time to take all this shit down and relocate
this little office you've made to one of the bathrooms over on the east
side of campus. Let's say, Holden Hall, third floor restroom. You are to
wait there like a good bitch and you'll suck me off again after my exam."

	Greg Foster nodded, taking the athlete's cock into his mouth and
working it over with his tongue.

	"I'm a pretty reasonable guy, Mr. F. I realize you've got a company
to run and need to conduct business as usual and I think this little set up
we have going here is working. It sounds like you're having no issues
keeping things on track with the office from here." Brad said, reaching
down and pushing his hand through the man's designer button-up shirt and
teasing his nipple a bit, causing him to jump. He leaned in close to where
their lips were almost touching. What Greg Foster wouldn't do to feel those
lips on his own. . . "But if you ever tell me to wait again like you just
did right now when you're supposed to be sucking me off, this is the last
you will ever see of me or my cock ever again. Got it?"

	Mr. Foster looked up at him apologetically and nodded.

	"What is your number 1 priority here, Mr. F? Your business empire
or sucking my cock?" Brad asked letting his big, fat cock wave around in
front of the man's face, tantalizing him.

	"Sucking your cock." Mr. Foster replied, not even needing to
consider it.

	"That's a good bitch." Brad smirked, patting the man's cheek in a
patronizing manner, slipping his cock into his mouth again and letting him
get back to work.

	This whole roleplaying thing was new to him, but he knew how
desperately the wealthy businessman craved it. It was the least he could do
for such a devoted sexual outlet.

	The handsome businessman eagerly worked him over, licking up a bit
of precum at the tip and savoring the taste before getting back to work,
concentrating every effort on giving Brad Williams another world class
blowjob and showing him his worth.

	"You know, I can't believe you haven't offered me a place to sit
down." Brad remarked.

	Mr. Foster backed off, saliva leading from his mouth to the
football player's cockhead, breathing in and out, catching his breath. He
stood up at once, gesturing to the toilet seat. "Please-"

	"That's better."  Brad sighed, taking his place and getting
comfortable, as he held his cock straight, letting the man get down onto
his knees on the cold bathroom floor and take his cock into his mouth
again, appreciatively. "It's the least you could do, seeing how I'm
generous enough to let you keep sucking me off like this in the middle of
my busy schedule."

	"Of course-" Mr. Foster apologized, kissing the sides of his cock
apologetically, lapping at it with his tongue. "I should have realized-"

	"Don't waste any more of my time talking, slut." Brad muttered,
grabbing the back of the wealthy businessman's head and shoving him down on
his cock in one motion. "Don't apologize, just suck better. Got it, bitch?"

	"Mmmhmm!" The wealthy executive nodded, expertly opening his throat
and managing not to gag.

	At that moment the heavy bathroom door pushed open and they heard
footsteps walking through.

	Greg Foster froze, but this time, Brad didn't.

	"When did I say stop sucking, bitch?" Brad asked, pushing him down
on his cock again, causing the man to cough, unprepared.

	They heard a voice from the urinals. "Shit man, you got a girl in
here?"

	"Even better." Brad answered back, sliding his cock up and down the
man's throat, unyielding. "I have a certified cocksucker. The best you'll
ever have."

	Mr. Foster focused on opening his throat for Brad to use, putting
the humiliation in the back of his mind and concentrating only on making
his throat a soft, comfortable spot for this hunky athlete to put his cock
into.

	"Shit man. I don't discriminate. Mind if I get some after you?" The
anonymous voice called out.

	"Sorry dude." Brad replied. "This one's kind of reserved for the
afternoon and he'll be busy making sure I'm attended to for my next class
in a couple minutes." He could almost feel the anonymous guy slump in
disappointment. "But listen, man. I can do you one better."

	"Yeah?"

	Without pulling his dick out of the wealthy businessman's throat,
he reached into his backpack and pulled out a yellow flyer from the side
pocket. He slid it under the stall door, hearing the guy bend down to pick
it up. "Come by the Sigma Phi frat house tomorrow night. You got a load you
need to blow, you'll be taken care of." He felt the CEO executive start to
pull off, panicking, as he said it but he held his head in place.

	"For real?" The guy asked, studying the flyer, sounding interested.

	"100 percent serious, man. Sigma Phi frat house. 9 pm. Tell your
friends. No loads turned away. You can come back for seconds, thirds,
however many you have in you. Like I said, you'll be taken care of."

	"Fuck, man. And you're not playing me right now?"

	"Dude, I would never lie to a guy about getting his balls drained."

	Mr. Foster continued to work over his cock with his throat muscles
as he listened, in some sort of state between panic and intrigue.

"Alright, man." The guy answered, still a little unsure. "I'm so backed up
that I'm not too proud to put all my faith in you right now. I need it that
bad. These bitches on campus, dude." He laughed. "I'll be there. If you're
lying then I'll jack off on Sigma Phi's doorstep for the next three weeks
straight."

	"Trust me, man." Brad replied, grinning. "You'll be treated like a
fucking king. Spread the word, alright? In fact. . ." Brad said, taking out
a couple more flyers and sliding them under the stall. "Take some of these
and tell your friends."

	He heard the guy finish his stream and zip up, giving a friendly
tap on the wall to show his thanks and leave through the door.

	Finally, Brad let the CEO executive pull off of his cock, breathing
in and out, wiping the saliva from his lips.

	"What the hell is going on?" Greg panicked.

	"You don't have to worry about a thing, Mr. F. All you have to do
is show up and put out. So it should be really easy for you. I'm handling
everything from here."

	"B-but! Y- you can't be serious! I have a reputation!"

	"Look at me, Mr. F." Brad said sternly, grabbing the man's chin and
turning him up to face him, looking him directly in the eye from his seat
above him. "Do I know what you need and do I know how to give it to you?"

	"Y-yes." The man answered, breathing out a little easier. "Yes, you
know what I need. Yes, you know how to give it to me."

	"Do you trust me?" Brad asked, his big cock standing tall in front
of the man's face, towering over him.

	Greg Foster looked up at him, thinking it over. He considered it
for a moment, thinking of all the humiliation this jock had put him
through, knowing how much the CEO executive got off on it. Here he was, his
own luxury designer pants saturated at the knees from the dirty bathroom
floor as he knelt there, sucking a 19 year-old athlete off in between his
classes like a whore. And yet, a realization flooded over him.

	"Yes." He answered, without any more hesitation. He felt like an
epiphany was coming over him. "Yes, I trust you."

"Do you trust the fact that when it comes to your body that I know what's
best for you and that it is my right to decide how to use you?"

"Yes." The CEO executive nodded, unwavering. "Of course it is your
right. My body is yours to use as you see fit."

"Do you trust that if it ever came down to it that I would have the sense
and compassion to pull you out of a situation if I ever thought things were
getting too far and that I felt you needed to be protected? Knowing that
you are a public figure and that everything you have worked for all hinges
on your reputation?"

Greg Foster gulped as he considered it. His entire empire. His
livelihood. If something embarrassing got out he could be finished. More
than finished. There wasn't even a word for how finished he'd be.

"Do you trust that I will take the necessary precautions to ensure that
your identity and reputation are kept safe?"

"Yes."

Brad smiled, knowing the man literally kneeling before him at this very
moment truly meant it. Here knelt one of the most powerful men in the
entire state of California, and he had officially earned his trust. He
brought his hand up to the back of the businessman's head and ran his
fingers through his hair, brushing the back of his head gently. It was a
surprisingly tender moment between the two of them. Greg Foster's eyes
rolled into the back of his head at his touch and he swore he could faint
from the generous sign of tender affection alone.

"Good." Brad said, kissing the man's forehead and smiling. His grip
tightened on the back of the CEO's head and pushed him down onto his cock
again in one motion. "Now get back to sucking that cock, bitch."


					-




	"Fifteen!"

	"I want five more, Sam." Coach Jackson muttered from the desk in
his office, crossing his arms and watching his subject's form and technique
closely. "And I want them to be good ones.

	"I- I can't, sir!" The lanky country boy begged, his arms
absolutely on fire as he tried to pull his entire body over the bar again.

	"Come on, you skinny son of a bitch, I said I want five more."

	"It- it's too much. . ." Sam panted, collapsing his arms and
hanging from the bar, utterly exhausted.

	"Alright, then you're done." Coach Jackson replied flippantly,
sighing. "Go home and jack off, or whatever. You're sure as hell not
getting any pussy off of me this afternoon, that's for damn sure."

	"Wha-?" Sam asked, wiping the sweat from his brow, catching his
breath.

	"You know the rules, kid. You give me your all, you get laid. You
follow orders, you get laid. You do what I say when I say it, you get
laid. If not, you go home and jack off. That's that."

	"Aw come on, sir, please, just give me a quick break, I promise
I'll-"

	"I don't fuckin want promises from you, kid, I want results." Coach
Jackson fired back, sternly. "You've been giving me 75 percent all
afternoon. When I put out for you do I give you 75 percent or 100?"

	"100, sir."

	"You're damn right I do. And let me tell you, with that monster of
yours it ain't always easy. Christ, you get my cunt so sore I can barely
walk straight for the rest of the week. But I keep my commitments. If you
go home with blue-balls, that's on you."

	"Come on, sir, I've been real horny all week. . ."

	"So the fuck what?" Coach Jackson dismissed the shy country boy
flippantly. "How's that my problem? You put in the work, you get laid. You
slack off, you get jack shit." He hoisted his windshorts down and turned
around, bending over. "Had myself all lubed up and ready for you, too. All
primed to give it up."

	Sam licked his lips at the inviting hole he craved so much. Ever
since he'd lost his virginity with Coach Jackson, getting back in that hole
was all he could focus on. And each time the giant man let him have it it
felt even better than he'd remembered.  They'd been having so much sex
lately that his body was now conditioned to expect sex after a
work-out. His arms were on fire right now and his monster cock expected
pussy.

	"I was all primed and ready to put out today, kid." Coach Jackson
shrugged. "But you decided you were gonna slack off and that you didn't
want pussy today. Maybe I've made it too easy for you. Made it too
available."

	"Aw, please sir. . . "Sam whined, getting really boned up.

	"10 more." Coach Jackson replied, flexing his ass for him.

	"10?" Sam panted, trying to pull himself up; his arms burning. "But
you said five just a minute ago!"

	"And now I'm saying 10. You want this hole, you're going to have to
earn it." He turned around and looked him right in the eye. "You've had a
piece of this hole. You tell me if it's worth it to you."

	"HMMMPH!" Sam panted as he pulled himself up. "ONE. . ."

	"That's what I fuckin' thought." Coach Jackson smirked as he
watched the shy country boy earn his lay. "With how much you like getting
laid we're gonna have you muscled up in no time, kid. Gonna have the body
to match that monster of yours. You're gonna have so many dudes wanting to
put out for you you won't even know what to do with `em."

	"I think- mmph" Sam exhaled as he pulled himself up again, "you're
gonna want to- mmph- lube yourself up again."

	"Yeah, and why's that, kid?" Coach Jackson asked, crossing his
arms.

	"'cause if you're making me- mmph- work this hard for your hole-
mmph- I'm gonna really take advantage of my reward, sir."

	Coach Jackson reached into his drawer and popped open the tube of
lube, squeezing it onto his fingers and bringing it to his opening. "Shit."
He gulped, seeing the giant mound forming in the determined kid's
shorts. "Guess I really got myself into this one."

	"Nine. . ." Sam panted, taking a deep breath. "Ten. . ."

	Coach Jackson was expecting the poor guy to lower himself down and
take a breather, ready to collect what was promised to him, but instead,
Sam was pulling himself up yet again.

	"Eleven. . ."

	"What are you, an idiot? You've already earned your way into this
hole, kid!" Coach Jackson laughed, watching him pull himself up again.

	"I got enough in these balls- mmph-" He inhaled deeply as he pulled
himself over again. "To fuck you twice, sir."

	"Well you crafty son of a bitch. . ." Coach Jackson muttered, a
smile slowly spreading across his face. His hole pulsed as he accepted the
fact that not only was he expected to put out for the biggest cock he'd
ever encountered, but he was going to take it for two loads-worth. Sure,
taking a cock this big hurt. It hurt every god damn time. But it was so
fucking worth it.

	"Twenty!" Sam yelled out, dropping himself down onto the floor with
a thud, landing on his feet.

He pulled the bottom of his shirt up to his face to wipe the sweat from his
forehead, breathing in and out as he caught his breath. With each intake of
air, Dan Jackson could see the beginning formation of clear, cut, abdominal
muscles. His eyes wandered up to his arms, the once completely shapeless
tubes now looking more and more athletic and masculine.

	There was no doubt about it. This shy, lanky country boy's hard
work was paying off.

	And now, whether he was ready for it or not, it was time for Dan
Jackson to do the hard work. Now it was his turn to pay up.

	"Alright kid." He muttered, lifting up his shirt and throwing it
onto his desk. His eyes wandered down to the already obscenely massive
monster forming in the country boy's gym shorts. "Just go easy on me with
that thing, alright?"

	"No sir." Sam shook his head, grabbing Coach Jackson by the
shoulders and pinning him against the wall in his own office.

	"Aw fuck, I'm really gonna get it now, aren't I?" The giant man
gulped as he allowed himself to be manhandled by this kid with muscles less
than a third of his size.

	"Yes sir." Sam replied, lining his big, fat cockhead up with the
man's opening.

	Coach Jackson took a deep breath and gritted his teeth as he felt
him press into him. His hole stretched to accommodate his length as he
became impaled by inch after inch of thick cock.

	"Jesus Christ, kid." He grumbled, willing himself to open himself
up for him. "I swear just when I think I'm taking it all you're sending a
couple more inches into me."

	"You've still got about four more to go, sir." Sam replied with a
grin, giving him a loud spank.

	"Aw fuck yeah!" Dan yelled back, feeling a few inches sink into
him. "Show that hole who's in charge here. Make me feel every single-
MMMMPH!" He grunted as he was slammed up against the wall, his face held
down against the cold surface, as Sam started thrusting in and out of him
in deep, hard strokes.

	He couldn't believe he was allowing himself to be treated this
way. Here he was, over 300 pounds of muscle, being slam-fucked against the
wall of his own office by a kid half his age who couldn't weigh more than
150 pounds.

	And he fucking loved every second of it.

	"Aww fuck yeah. . ." He moaned against the wall as Sam held his
face down. "Use that fuckin hole, kid. You earned that hole."

	"You're damn right I did." Sam grunted, slamming into him and
pulling out with every stroke. "God I love those pussy lips grabbing onto
me like that, sir." Sam muttered.

	"God damn, that's a big cock. . ." Coach Jackson muttered, wincing
each time he sank in. His knuckles were turning white as he clenched his
fists, fighting off the pain of taking such a big cock and trying to
concentrate on the pleasure.

	"You're just opening right up for me, sir."

	"Good boy. . ." Coach Jackson nodded, encouraged by hearing how
well he was putting out for this massive cock. "You take that hole. Just
like that." He willed himself to open up for him, to show him his complete
submission. He thought about all the other self-described cocksluts who
wouldn't have even dared take on a cock like this. But he knew he was
better than that. No, not just better. The best. A cock like this deserved
to be treated right, and damn it if Dan Jackson wasn't the man to tough it
out and treat it right. He braced himself against the onslaught of meat as
Sam started slamming into him in unforgiving strokes.

	"FUCK!" Sam cried out, squeezing his hands around the giant man's
hips as he started shooting.

	Coach Jackson could feel the giant prick inside of him jumping up
and down as it inseminated him.

	He felt Sam collapse on top of him as he continued to shoot,
breathing tightly against his neck.

	The time between pulses of the giant cock grow fainter and fainter
until it was still. Slowly, Sam pulled out, causing the giant man to tense
up so as to keep every drop of cum inside of him, right where it belonged.

	"Whew!" The giant man sighed, wiping his brow. "I think I need a
breather after that kind of pounding. You sure don't hold back when you-"

	But before he could finish his train of thought, he was being
grabbed by the shoulders yet again, this time pushed onto his back on top
of the desk right there in the middle of his office, his legs raised up as
he was laid down.

	"Aww fuck. . ." He cursed, knowing he was about to get royally
fucked yet again.

	The shy country boy wasted no time as he kicked the giant man's
legs apart and crouching down over him, slipping into him once again and
burying his monster cock all the way in to the hilt.

	Coach Jackson gulped as he saw the way his aggressor was locking
eyes with him. He looked like a predator looking down at his prey. It was
at that moment that he realized just how powerful this unassuming 18
year-old was. Not because of his muscles, though he'd get there. But
powerful because he knew there was nothing that could ever get between this
kid and his nut. Instinctively, the giant man spread his legs further apart
to give him complete access to himself.

	"That's it." He muttered, wrapping his strong arms around the
skinny kid and pulling him into him, pressing on the small of his back
invitingly. "I'm not goin anywhere. This hole's yours for as long as you
fuckin need it."

	He could feel his words sooth his aggressor, calming him down as he
continued to whisper in his ear. Telling him to keep going. Encouraging him
to display his complete dominance over him. Showing him that he was
completely willing to allow him to use him for his own pleasure.

	Coach Jackson massaged the small of his back, urging him to keep
thrusting in and out of him.

	He could see the transformation happening. Gone was the
predatorial, animalistic, horny aggressor. Instead, a calmer, more tender
side was slowly forming over the country boy.

	Coach Jackson continued to rub his hands soothingly over his back,
encouraging him, and leaned his head up to kiss him, drawing him in closer.

	It wasn't a romantic kiss. It was a clear sign of submission. That
he was fully giving himself over to him to use in any way he wanted.

	It was too much for Sam, as he thrust his tongue into the giant
man's mouth and instantly started shooting inside of him, for the second
time.

	"Mmmhmm. . ." Coach Jackson nodded, accepting his tongue into his
mouth as his pussy accepted his second load.

	Sam's tongue didn't leave his mouth as he continued to deposit his
seed inside of him, gratefully lapping at his tongue with his own, until he
was finally finished inseminating the muscleman pinned underneath him.

	He slowly withdrew his cock, with Coach Jackson's used, battered
hole far too warn to control his sperm from leaking out this time.

	Coach Jackson looked down at his chest, the smeared, spatter of
creamy fluid in the grooves of his abs signifying that he had managed to
ejaculate at some point during the encounter.

	He barely registered what was happening until he heard it.

	"One. . ." The country boy grunted through gritted teeth as he
pulled himself over the bar again, the whole time his eyes honing in on
Coach Jackson's red, puffy, used hole, his gaze unwavering. His big cock
was as solid as ever, looking down at the battered opening he knew he'd be
getting back into in no time.

	"Aw fuck. . ." Coach Jackson sighed, leaning his head back against
the surface of his desk, staring at the ceiling, accepting the fact that no
matter how sore he'll be in the morning, his job was clearly nowhere near
being over.


					-

	As the night of the big event finally rolled around, the Sigma Phi
frat house was alive with hustling and bustling, with everyone trying to
get everything ready.

	"Coach!" Brad yelled, banging on the bathroom door. All around him
were Sigma Phi frat brothers rearranging furniture in the big room,
clearing space. "What the hell is the hold up, princess?"

	"In a fuckin minute, alright, Williams?" The man called out from
behind the door.

 "You're not getting cold feet, are you? Because we've been passing out
flyers for days now promising practically anybody on campus the chance to
get their balls drained, and I'm not keen on volunteering to take your
place if-"

"Would you shut the fuck up and let me get myself changed? I said in a
fuckin minute! Jesus. I couldn't exactly wear this shit on the plane."

"Well hurry up." Brad replied. "If I had known you'd be spending this much
time coordinating your outfit deciding what you were going to wear to your
first orgy I would've-"

"Williams, I swear to Christ if you don't shut that fuckin mouth of yours-"

One of the fraternity brothers passed by, stopping as he overheard. "Oh
shit, is he not okay with all of this? He seems mad."

"Mad?" Brad grinned. "Not at all. That's just Coach."

At that point I squeezed by a couple of fraternity brothers carrying off a
sofa to one of the other rooms, meeting Brad by the bathroom.

"How's everything going?" I asked him, leaning against the wall.

"Well little miss princess over here is sure taking his sweet time getting
ready . ." Brad replied, rolling his eyes.

"Is that you, Olujimi?" I heard Coach Jackson's voice from behind the door,
as he got changed.

"Yeah, it's me, Coach."

"Listen, do me a favor and give Williams a good slugger right in the jaw
for me, alright Africa? He's being an even bigger asshole than usual and
he's getting on my fuckin nerves like you wouldn't believe."

I shook my head laughing as Mr. Williams walked up behind me, rubbing my
shoulders. "Hey, is Dan in there?"

"Oh for fuck's sake would everyone just fuckin relax for a god damn
second?" We heard as the doorknob began to turn.

The door unlocked and Coach Jackson emerged, causing us all to do a double
take.

It was no wonder why he couldn't wear this on the plane. His beige under
armor leg pads were cut right below the bottom of his ass cheeks to where
his meaty gluts stuck out obscenely, his calf muscles bulging out hard and
menacing from where he squeezed his ass into the tiny bottoms. His chest
was bare all the way up the waist up to the lower half of his pecs, his
shoulders padded with a black football jersey that had been cut off a third
of the way down. His abs flexed every time he took a breath. To finish
everything off he had a backward baseball cap sitting on his head and had
painted some black stripes below his eyes for effect, along with his
coaching whistle hanging from his neck.

To put it simply, the guy looked like the sluttiest football player ever
known to man.

"Holy shit, Coach. . ." Brad said under his beath, looking him up and down.

"You like what you see, Williams?" Coach Jackson grinned, flexing for
effect.

"Uh yeah. . ." Brad laughed, not believing this, reaching out to cop a feel
at his pecs below the jersey. "I really, really, really like what I see."

"That's not even the best part." The giant man added, slowly turning
around. The back of his jersey read WILLIAMS in big white letters against
the black fabric, with the number 16 just where he'd cut it off to show off
his chest muscles.

Brad was speechless he was so hot for the musclestud in front of him.

Coach Jackson turned back to him again, smirking. "Cocky fucker giving me
attitude like that. . . Come here, asshole." He pulled him into him,
thrusting his tongue in his mouth and bringing Brad's hands behind his
padded ass, letting him feel his gluts. "You know how fuckin hard it is
getting off that plane and having you right here and not being able to have
you pull me upstairs into one of those bedrooms and fuck the shit out of me
right now like I want you to?"

"I know, Coach." Brad nodded, pulling at his lip with his teeth. "God I
want you."

"You've got all fuckin weekend to enjoy this pussy." Coach Jackson
muttered, guiding Brad's hands in between his cheeks and running them along
his taint. "Just remember when I'm on my knees tonight taking care of all
these jocks. . ."

	"Yeah Coach?" Brad nodded, kissing him.

	"Every single fuckin one of `em is gonna know who gets to call me
his." Coach Jackson huffed, letting his athlete see his name literally
branded across the giant man's back.

	"That is so fucking hot." Brad replied, grinding their hips into
one another as they made out hungrily. "I'm gonna love watching you out
there on your knees taking all those cocks down your throat. One by
one. Showing off what I get to have any time I want it."

	"You're damn right you do, Williams. Any time you want it." The
muscleman nodded, guiding his athlete's hands back to his pecs, and having
him play with his nipples. "When these dudes drop their loads down my
throat and leave happy, they thank you on the way out and not me, you
understand me?"

	"Mmhmm. . ." Brad groaned into him, closing his eyes and really
getting into it.

	The doorbell rang and I made my way over to the front door, opening
it to find Greg Foster on the other side of it, looking nervous and uneasy.

	"Well hey, Mr. Foster." I smiled, extending my hand for him to
shake.

	"It's really good to see you, Ollie." He breathed a little easier,
shaking my hand, relaxing as he met a familiar face.

	"Come on in." I said, guiding him over to where we were.

	Coach Jackson studied the man from head to toe, sizing him up like
a boxer sizes up his opponent before facing off in the ring. "Foster. . ."
He grunted, stiffly.

	"Dan." Greg nodded at him.

	Mr. Williams let out a laugh as he watched the pair of them. "Boy
did the jocks on the USC campus luck out having you two whores facing off
to see just who's the sluttiest of them all."

"No fuckin contest!" Coach Jackson scoffed, upping his smack talk. "I'm the
best fuckin cockslut around and I'm gonna make damn sure every jock on this
campus knows it by the time the night is over."

Greg Foster cleared his throat, standing a little taller. "Respectfully,
Dan, you don't know the first thing about what it means to truly submit
yourself as a means for these guys to get off. You don't need it like I
do. You will never need it like I do." His cheeks were blushing as he
finished, feeling the need to defend himself.

"Ladies, ladies, ladies, let's save the cat fighting for the main event!"
Brad clapped, loving this.

"Oh fuck off, Williams." Coach Jackson rolled his eyes.

"Don't you dare talk to him like that." Mr. Foster raised his voice.

"Now you listen here, you little -" Coach Jackson began, before
Mr. Williams and I intervened, pulling them away from each other.

"Why don't we put you over here and let you calm down a little, huh, Dan?"
Mike laughed, stopping at the bottom of the staircase.

"I won't have that spineless little wannabe making me out to be second
best." Coach Jackson huffed, heated.

"I know, Dan." Mike replied, rubbing his shoulders to try and calm him down
a little.

"I'm the best fuckin cockslut there is. No one puts out for jock cock more
than I do. No one puts out for jock cock better than I do."

"Boy do I know that, too." Mike laughed, continuing to massage his
shoulders. "You are, without a doubt, the sluttiest, easiest lay I
know. I've passed hookers on the highway that are harder to get into bed
than you."

"Thanks." The giant muttered, feeling a little better. "That means a lot to
me, bud."

	"I know it does." Mike chuckled. "Now do you really think you're
ready to be put to the ultimate test tonight? If I had to guess, I'd say
there are going to be a lot of horny jocks wanting their cocks sucked
tonight."

	"You fuckin kidding me, Mike? I've been picturing this day in my
mind since forever. Ever since that kid of yours brought it out of
me. Endless supply of jock cock just waiting for me to take care of `em?
Fuck, bud. . ."

	"Even if as many people show up as I think will show up?" Mike
asked, raising an eye brow.

	"It's not about quantity." Coach Jackson shook his head. "It's
about quality. I want each guy I take care of tonight to know he's got my
full attention. That he's getting treated right. The way he deserves. So
it's not about how many dudes I get to blow tonight, it's -" He stopped to
think for a moment. "Okay maybe it's a little bit about quantity. I mean, I
want to take care of so many dudes tonight that I-" He stopped again, deep
in thought. "No, but it's not about how many dudes I get to suck off it's
how good I-" He was tripping over his words now. "Ah fuck, but with so many
of these jocks who deserve to get their cocks sucked, I-"

	"Dan!" Mike laughed. "I feel like I could have left and come back a
week from now and you'd still be looping over and over again."

	"Ah shit, Mike, it's just that what if there's not enough of me to
go around? What if I have to send some of these jocks home without giving
them the respect these jocks deserve?"

	"Dan, if there's anyone who can do it, it's you."

	"Thanks, bud."

	"And hey, you've got the second biggest cockslut right over there
to pick up some of the slack." Mike nodded toward his own CEO. "You've got
this. Think of all the honest, hard-working jocks tonight that are going to
go to bed happy and blue-ball free thanks to you."

	A big smile slowly spread across the muscleman's face. "Thanks,
Mike."

	"Okay, bring it in, fellas." The hunky quarterback John Carpenter
called, standing in the middle of the entryway.

	The other fraternity brothers and the rest of us gathered around to
listen.

	"If I could have my resident cocksuckers right here, please." John
said, tapping his foot in front of him.

	Coach Jackson and Mr. Foster proudly walked up to meet him, trying
to ignore one another.

	One of the fraternity brothers raised his hand. "So I know Coach
Dan, but who's the other guy?"

	Greg Foster panicked, not wanting his identity involved in any of
this.

	"It doesn't matter what his name is." Brad spoke out. Immediately,
the CEO executive breathed a little more easily. "This is cocksucker number
1." Brad said, pointing at Mr. Foster. "And this is cocksucker number 2."
He patted Coach Jackson's shoulder.

	"Like fuck I am, Williams, if anybody here is gonna be cocksucker
number 1 it's me." Coach Jackson argued, pointing to his chest proudly.

	Brad sighed, rolling his eyes. "It doesn't even matter who-" He
stopped, rubbing his temple frustrated. "You know what, fine. You can be
cocksucker number 1, alright?"

	"Mmhmm." The muscleman smirked, giving Mr. Foster a subtle glare.

	John continued on. "I want you two to know that I and my fraternity
brothers are going to be overseeing the event tonight to make sure things
don't get out of hand. Well. . ." He laughed. "Not too out of hand, I
guess." He waited as everyone laughed a little.

	"Explain the rules, John." Brad said, from behind him.

	"So to start off, the most important thing is that no one gets in
without giving up their phones. The Sigma Phi brothers will be patting
dudes down before we let them in to check for cameras. The next thing is we
really don't know how many dudes are going to show up, so if it gets pretty
crowded we'll be doing a `one out, one in' thing at the front door. I think
that about covers it, though. Any questions?"

	"Yeah." Coach Jackson grunted, raising his big, strong arm. "When
the fuck am I gonna get some jock cock?"

	Again, laughter.

	"I'm glad you brought your appetite, Dan." John laughed. "We've got
about 15 minutes til go-time. The flyers we've been passing out say 9:00."

	"So?" Coach Jackson shrugged. "I'm seeing ten or so jocks twiddling
their thumbs listening to your dumb fuckin speech and I'm wondering why
they fuck they're not getting their cocks sucked right now?"

	"Relax, Coach." Brad grinned, punching him on the shoulder. "Sorry,
folks. He gets a little cranky when he wants his binky." He gripped his
dick through his pants obscenely.

	"Let's move this into the big room." John said, walking as we
followed. The way all these fraternity brothers heeded his every command
made it clear why he was the natural leader of Sigma Phi.

	Brad turned his head to look at Greg Foster, who was nervously
lagging behind a little. "Hey." He said to the CEO executive, patting him
on the shoulder. "You ready for this?"

	"I'm just worried something could happen. I'm risking a lot to be
here." The man responded, quietly.

	"Here. I brought you something." Brad said, digging through his
pocket and pulling out a black bandana. "Would it make you feel better if
you wore this? I could tie it around your eyes so that there's no chance
anyone could really see you."

	The wealthy businessman's face lit up immediately. "Y- you'd really
let me wear it?"

	"Of course." Brad nodded, tying it across the man's face and
leaving it above his eyes. "I get it. You really are risking a lot to be
here tonight."

	"Thank you. Brad Williams." Mr. Foster replied, gratefully.

	"Don't sweat it. Bitch."

												-

	Not even an hour in and the Sigma Phi frat house was crawling with
people.  In the first half hour only a handful of desperate, horny guys
were willing to accept the invitation, but as word of mouth grew and
reports that there were really were tried and true cocksuckers willing to
accept all loads at the Sigma Phi frathouse, the news traveled quickly and
pretty soon there was a line almost 100 feet long outside the Sigma Phi
house of horny dudes waiting to get in for their share of action. All along
the corridors on each floor were guys having a good time, talking over the
music with one another waiting to use the bathrooms, red cups in hand,
enjoying the opportunity to relax and let loose. It was a really relaxed
atmosphere. There was no need to show off and try and one up the other
dudes here to try and impress any girls because here there was no risk of
going home without getting your balls drained.

	Mr. Williams and I were on kitchen duty for the time being filling
up peoples' cups with booze or whatever else they requested, with
Mr. Williams doing his best to make sure to hand each of them a bottled
water to match.

	"What?" He asked, looking at me defensively as he forced a couple
of basketball players to take a few waters with them. "I'm a father. I'll
always be a father."

	"I think it's cute." I smiled. "Actually, strike that. I think it's
sexy."

	"Yeah, stud?" He grinned, tossing a bottle up and catching it,
feeling good. "You like it when I pull my dad card out on these guys?"

	"Mmhmm." I nodded, letting him revel in my affection for him.

	"How about I ask these next couple of guys if they've finished
their homework yet?"

	"See, and now it's gone.." I laughed.

	"Damn, lost it already, huh?" He feigned a frown. "And here I was
hoping the hottest guy here would take me home with him tonight and get
laid."

	"I'd say there's still a pretty good chance of that happening."

	"You think so, huh?" He replied, meeting my gaze before turning his
attention over to a crowd of people. "Guess I'll go ask him then."

	I laughed at him, pulling him in for a quick kiss. "I said the dad
part of you was sexy. . . not the dad joke part of you."

	"Hmmm." He grinned, giving me a horny spank.

	Two Sigma Phi fraternity brothers joined us behind the bar,
carrying a heavy cooler between the two of them.

	"You guys need a break? Corey and I can take the next shift." The
blond one said.

	"Yeah, that'd be great." I replied. "How are things in there?
Getting crazy?"

	"Pretty crazy." The other one nodded. "Had to wait about 15 minutes
for my turn on the second go-around."

	"Totally worth it, though." The first one continued. "Managed to
get the one in the suit and tie to rim me before I shot."

	"Same here. I dated my ex for a year and a half and she wouldn't
rim me. This dude was doing it after 2 minutes." His friend nodded as they
took out beers from the ice chests, setting them down for people to
grab. "Gotta try both of them out, though. Brad's calling it the blowjob
sampler."

	"We'll keep that in mind." Mr. Williams laughed. "Hey, if you don't
mind my asking, where's all this booze coming from? It can't be cheap
keeping this many people buzzed and happy."

	One of the guys pointed toward the main entrance of the house where
different Sigma Phi brothers were directing people in and out of the house,
each holding large buckets with cash overflowing from the top. "We've never
had a turn out like this before. For any party we've done."

	Mr. Williams's brow furrowed. "I'm going to kill him." He said to
me as we walked over to Brad, who was busy directing traffic into lines to
get into the main room.

	Mike pulled his son aside sternly. "You're having guys pay to get
in???"

	"Not at all!" Brad insisted, throwing his hands up. "Apparently
Coach and Mr. F are doing such a good job in there that people have been
asking how they can show a token of their appreciation." We watched as
several guys came out of the big room with satisfied looks on their faces,
stopping at the Sigma Phi brothers carrying buckets and pulled out their
wallets, throwing a couple of bills in and carrying on their way. "We're
not charging them, Dad. They're tipping us."

	"You mean they're tipping your boyfriend and my boss to get sucked
off."

	"Well. . . yeah. Who is it hurting?"

	I watched as Mr. Williams seemed to be thinking it over in his
head, trying to figure out if he approved or not.

	Brad continued. "This place is going to need one hell of a clean-up
tomorrow morning and we figured if people wanted to show their
appreciation, who are we to stop them?"

	"Okay, and what about after the first couple hundred bucks?" Mike
replied. "Those guys must be carrying over two or three thousand bucks and
this thing started, what, not even an hour and a half ago?"

	"People just kept showing up! At this rate Sigma Phi is going to be
able to put in a new pool." Brad laughed, noticing the disapproving look on
his father's face. He leaned in close so that only the two of us could hear
him. "Greg Foster is a freaking billionaire and you know Coach would punch
a hole through the wall if someone ever tried to pay him for what he loves
to do. Neither of them would ever accept these guy's hard earned cash."

	Mr. Williams thought about it for a while. "For every cent Sigma
Phi keeps, they're matching it to charity." At that moment a frat dude
walked past us tucking his dick into his pants with the satisfied look on
his face that only comes from getting good head. "We'll tell the charities
we threw a bake sale or something."

	"Done." Brad agreed.  "Next year we could have merchandising and
t-shirts. Really pour some money back into the community one blowjob at a
time."

	"Not funny." Mr. Williams replied, trying not to laugh.

	At that moment a couple of guys walked up to Brad, giving him an
appreciative back pat, still coming down from their highs from their
treatment over in the main room.

	"Hey, man, it's Vince. I'm the guy from the bathroom a few days
ago."

	"Glad you could make it, dude!" Brad grinned, shaking his hand. "I
hope it was worth the hype."

	"Shit man, you weren't kidding. And I just found out you're not
just doing the guy in the suit, but the muscle guy is your boyfriend?"

	"Guilty as charged." Brad laughed.

	"Damn. . ." Vince sighed. "You must really know what you're doing."

	"I do alright."

	"So uh. . . you think the muscle guy would let me fuck him tonight?
I gave him two loads already but I could work up a third and really make it
count." Vince replied, grabbing his bulge through his pants.

	"Sorry man." Brad laughed. "But I'm afraid his pussy is by
appointment only. Find me in a few days and we'll see if we can work
something out."

	"I'll hold you to that." The guy replied, giving him another pat on
the back as he made his way out the door with his buddy.

	Mr. Williams looked at his son with a disapproving face.

	"You know what, Dad? You look like you need to relax a little."
Brad grinned. "How about you get yourself in line and I'll have Coach treat
you real nice? Tell him I sent you?"

	"You know what, son? I'm calling your bluff. Blowjob sounds great."

	"That's the spirit!" Brad grinned, leading us into the big room.

	We could just make out Coach Jackson on his knees in the center of
the room with Greg Foster, back to back against one another.

	A big Asian guy on the rugby team had just pulled Coach Jackson's
sports cap off his head and shot his load into it before fitting it back on
the muscleman's head, joining what looked like to be a couple more loads
running out of the man's cap and in his hair.

	"Next!" The giant man called out, savoring the taste of jock cock
on his tongue.

	Another athletic guy was already stepping up in front of him from
the circle of guys lining around the room.

	A couple guys on the football team greeted Brad warmly as they
waited in line for their turn.

	It was certainly a site to behold.

	The former lounge of the Sigma Phi frat house had been completely
cleared out, to leave a wide space. Thirty or forty dudes crowded around
the room watching the show as Greg Foster and Dan Jackson knelt
back-to-back in the center of the room, servicing jocks one by one as they
stepped up to the plate from both directions to get their cocks
sucked. Greg Foster had two jocks standing before him, with him bobbing
from cockhead to cockhead as he serviced them together. The contrast of
Coach Jackson in his slutty football gear and Greg Foster in his business
suit and black bandana across his eyes, both covered in white blotches of
cum, was just about the hottest thing I'd ever seen.

	Red plastic cups and water bottles were strewn across the entire
house, with pizza boxes stacked skyscrapers high on top of one another
being stuffed into every trashcan in sight. There was even a pizza delivery
guy currently being pushed to the front of the line as a token of
appreciation by the many guys waiting for their turn, passing the pizzas
along gratefully.

	Coach Jackson eagerly bobbed up and down on a sophomore soccer
player's 7 inch stalk as he jacked himself off, groaning around the jock's
cock as he pleasured himself for the umpteenth time this evening.

	There was a perfect arc of cum splattered in front of the giant
man. Cum was everywhere. There was cum on the furniture. Cum on the
tables. Cum shot all over the floor. Cum in the curtains. Cum practically
on the ceiling.

	Greg Foster leaned his head back as one of his current jocks, a
black guy from the football team, started fucking his throat and pushing
him back, causing Coach Jackson to lean forward from the force.

	"Damnit Foster, quit pushing me and stay on your side!" Coach
Jackson cursed, pushing his back out to bump him.

	As his response the wealthy CEO groaned uncontrollably as he
sprayed another load in front of him, squirming around the football jock's
cock in his mouth as he got himself off, yet again, joining the loads
already on the floor in front of him.

	Coach Jackson's once solid black football jersey was splotchy and
saturated in jock cum. There was cum around his mouth. There was cum
dripping down his ab muscles. There was cum in his hair around his cap.

	There was cum everywhere.

	As the soccer player started to get more urgent with his thrusts
into the back of the giant man's throat, Coach Jackson started going into
overdrive with his throat muscles to coax out the load he knew was hot and
ready for him.

	"Oh fuck!" The soccer player called out, gripping the back of the
man's head and pulling him all the way onto his dick. "You're already
pulling it out of me!"

	He leaned his head back in ecstasy as he started shooting, with
Coach Jackson eagerly bobbing up and down on the shaft and swallowing each
jet of cum as soon as it fired, taking anything he had to give him.

	"Fuck. . . " The athlete sighed as he slowly pulled out, letting
his cockhead rest against the giant man's lips.

	Coach Jackson greedily lapped up the remnants of cum around the
soccer player's sensitive cockhead, causing the poor guy to shudder and
slowly extract his cock from the giant man's mouth, giving him an
appreciative nod.

	"Next!" Coach Jackson shouted, cleaning the sides of his lips with
his fingers and sucking on them happily.

	A latino baseball jock stepped up to him, unzipping his pants and
pulling them down to reveal a girthy eight and a half inch piece of uncut
meat.

	"Aw fuck yeah!" Coach Jackson exclaimed, lowering his jaw and
welcoming the uncut piece into his mouth.

	"Yeah, suck it." The jock muttered under his breath as he grabbed
the back of Coach Jackson's head and forced him onto his dick.

	Coach Jackson, surprised at the escalation, more used to these guys
expecting him to do all the work and to be serviced entirely, opened up his
throat like the expert cocksucker he is, allowing him to push forward.

	"Yeah Ruiz, fuck that throat!" Another guy from the baseball team
encouraged him. "How is it?"

	"This bitch is in heat, alright!" Ruiz called back to him, forcing
Coach Jackson's head in place as he fucked in and out of his throat. "She's
making herself all nice and open for me to dump my load into."

	Coach Jackson clenched his fists in anger as he listened to the way
this guy talked about him. But he knew he had a job to do and he was damned
sure going to make his athlete proud of him. He concentrated on working his
throat muscles to get this guy off as quick as possible and send him on his
way without any issues.

	The jock brought his hand up and swatted the side of the giant
muscleman's face, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make a
sound. "Suck my cock, whore."

	Coach Jackson pried himself off of the thick, uncut meat in this
throat, panting. "Watch it, kid." He said, warning him, licking up and down
the shaft and taking it back into his throat.

	"Well would you look at that!" Ruiz said over his shoulder to his
buddies from the team. "Looks like she's got a mouth on her! Someone should
really tell that Brad guy that his chick is acting out of line and that she
needs to learn to watch her mouth and stick to what she's good for."

	Coach Jackson clenched his fists tighter, trying to not let this
jock's attitude get to him, wanting to get his load out of him and send him
on his way without any trouble.

	"That's right, bitch, you like making real men feel good?" Ruiz
taunted him, reaching down to give him another slap on his cheek, harder
this time. "Yeah, I think you want me to take you home so you can be my
woman. Making sure I- AHHHHH!!!"

	He screamed out as Coach Jackson wrapped his mighty hand around the
baseball jock's sizable balls, crushing them hard against one another and
pulling them down.

	"AHHHH, what the fuck, man!" The guy yelped, trying not to make any
sudden movements.

	"Oh shit!" One of his friends laughed from the edge of the room.

	"Try calling me your woman one more time. I fuckin dare you." Coach
Jackson muttered, staring up at him from his submissive position and
looking him right in the eye.

	"I- I'm sorry!" The baseball jock panted, wincing.

	"Call me your bitch one more time."

	"I'm sorry!"

	"Try slapping me like that one more time."

	"I'm s- sorry!"

	"There's only one man in this fuckin room who has the right to talk
to me that and he's standing right there." Coach Jackson reached his other
hand out and pointed to Brad, who was busy on the other side of the room
with his attention on one of his teammates, in the middle of a
conversation.

	He tightened his grip on the poor jock's balls, causing the former
tough guy to whimper.

	"But you see. . ." Coach Jackson continued, standing up on his feet
so that he towered above him menacingly, his muscles bulging out. "He would
never do it because he's got too much god damn respect for me. Look at
him." Coach Jackson commanded him, reaching out and turning the jock's head
forcibly and looking over at Brad. "I put out for that lucky fucker like
this every god damn day. He's getting his cock sucked like this regular. I
make sure he gets treated right. And it's because he respects me." He could
almost feel the testicles in his grip pulsing with every breath the
baseball player took. "Maybe if you learned some fucking respect you'd have
your own personal cocksucker like he does. One you don't have to demean to
get him to get on his knees and suck your cock. One who'll get on his knees
and suck your cock because he wants to suck your cock. You understand me,
Ruiz?"

	"Y-yes." The jock nodded, wincing.

	"Yes what?"

	"Yes s-sir."

	Coach Jackson released his grasp on the poor baseball jock's balls,
causing him to emit a sigh of relief. "Now that's more like it."

	"Sorry. . ." The baseball jock said, starting to pull his pants
back up.

	"Where the fuck do you think you're going, tough guy?" The
muscleman asked, causing him to stop.

	"I- I figured-"

	Coach Jackson reached out and swatted the jock's cheek in the same
cocky manner he had done to him and then proceeded to get on his knees
before him, looking up at him and meeting his gaze.

	"You're lucky I don't get the chance to suck uncut cock as much as
I like, Ruiz."

	And with that, he opened his mouth and took his cock back into his
throat, this time, setting the pace as he saw fit, knowing he wouldn't have
to worry about this cocky baseball jock opening his mouth again.

Over on the other side of their backs against one another, Greg Foster was
sending a satisfied basketball jock on his way, hoping to help wash the
thick load running down his throat with a new load to help it on its way.

	Mike Williams stepped up, looking down at him with a grin.

	"How's it going, boss?" He grinned. "I'd say you look just about as
happy as a pig in shit right now, as they say."

	"No time for chit chat, Mike." The CEO executive replied, reaching
out to unzip Mike's plants. "I've got a whole line of horny jocks waiting
for their turn with me."

	"Well then get to work, boss." Mike smiled, leaning his head back
with a sigh as Mr. Foster wrapped his lips around his cockhead and got
started on what he did best.

"Thaaaaat's good, boss." Mike sighed, keeping his hand on the back of his
CEO executive's head. "Oh, and I forgot to mention." He said, pushing the
man's head down onto his cock to force more and more down his throat. "I'll
be needing this Monday off."

	Mr. Foster gagged as Mike sent his entire cock in in one push.

	"Actually, better yet, give me Tuesday and Wednesday, too." Mike
said, fucking his big cock in and out forcibly. "You see I was at this
crazy party this weekend and I think I'm going to need some time to
recover. You wouldn't believe the entertainment they had."

	Greg Foster gripped the back of his employee's ass through his
pants to steady himself as he was utterly face-fucked on almost 9 inches of
thick cock.

	"So I figured a few days off is just what I need. Is that going to
be a problem, boss?"

	"AACUUHHH" The billionaire executive coughed as he was released
from the bottom of his throat, catching his breath.

	"I said is that going to be a problem, boss?" Mike repeated, waving
his big cock in front of the man's face.

	"N-no." Greg replied, wiping his face, his eyes watering.

	"Excellent." Mike grinned, letting his boss open his mouth again
and slide his cock across his soft, cushiony tongue. "It's a good thing,
too. My boss is actually letting me use the company card to rent a room at
this fancy hotel." He continued, sliding his cock in and out of his own
CEO's mouth. "He told me I was to bring my boyfriend and spend a few days
getting pampered with a massage here and there, order room service, and
then fuck like newlyweds all day long on those freshly laundered
sheets. All on the company's dime." Mike smirked, letting him take his
entire cock down his throat and holding him there. "Now isn't that
generous?"

	"Mmhmmm. . ." The man eagerly nodded, feeling the grip on the back
of his head tighten.

	"Man, boss, you're going to pull this one out of me even faster
than I thought! You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you might
have gotten into the wrong line of work. Could have probably-" He grunted,
going for his nut and slamming into the man's throat like no
tomorrow. "made quite- the name for yourself- if you had spent those
nights- on your knees- instead of climbing the corporate ladder- AAAHHH!"
He yelled, feeling his balls draw into themselves as he started shooting
down his boss's throat.

	Greg Foster started shooting at that same moment, pulling on his
cock with his right hand as Mike's grip on the back of his head forced him
own on his own employee's cock.

	Coach Jackson was finishing up with his baseball jock and it was my
turn.

	"Hey Coach." I grinned as he reached out to unzip me and pull my
big black cock out, immediately getting to work, wrapping his lips around
it. "Having fun?"

	"I don't have time to fuckin chit chat, Africa. Got all these jocks
wanting at me." He grunted, licking up and down the shaft before deep
throating me to the hilt.

	There was sweat and cum running down the giant man's face and he
looked exhausted, but there was no doubt about it that he was having the
time of his life.

	"Mike and I have been working the drink stations." I said, allowing
him to bob up and down on my cock as I held the back of his head in
place. "From what we've been hearing, you two have made quite the
impression on these straight guys."

	He pulled off me, letting my cock rest at his lips, looking up at
me, seriously. "You really mean that, Olujimi? They said I did good?"

	"I think you've made them see the light." I smiled. "I wouldn't be
surprised if they never looked at their girlfriends the same way again."

	The genuine smile that spread across the giant man's face was
unmistakable. He was proud. But it only lasted a moment before he was back
on me, working his throat muscles on my dick, going into over drive to pull
the load out of me, excitedly, feeling a renewed vigor to tend to the many
other frat guys and athletes waiting for their turn at him.

	I decided to give the poor guy what he wanted and just grabbed the
back of his head and pulled him down on my cock harder, ready to shoot my
load down his throat and be on my way so that he could get started on the
next guy.

	And knowing Dan Jackson, he wouldn't have had it any other way.


									-

	After Coach Jackson had finally cleaned any remnants of jock cum
from his face as he could, he stood up, exhausted, looking across the room
at his athlete with the most satisfied grin. It was nearly 2:00 am, which
meant Dan Jackson and Greg Foster had been sucking cock for almost 5 hours
now. Still, the look of determination on both of their faces seemed to only
show they wanted more. The two of them could go on like this for another
day and still be hungry for more jock cum.

	Brad made his way through the crowd, clearing his throat. "Alright
fellas, can we get a round of applause for our two amazing cocksuckers this
evening?"

	The room erupted in applause around them, with all the guys in the
crowd cheering for them loudly.

	"WHOOHOO!!"

	"YEAH!!"

	Coach Jackson and Mr. Foster took their adulation with pride,
absolutely elated that they had succeeded in satisfying seemingly the
entire USC campus full of horny, underserved jocks.

	"This wasn't really planned, but I feel like these guys earned it."
Brad continued, all eyes on him. "Alright, Coach. Mr. F." Brad said to each
of them. "You two really delivered on your promise tonight. You did
cocksuckers across the world proud. And now I know that I told all these
guys here that fucking was strictly off limits. . ."

	There were a couple cheers and cat calls from around the room.

	"But what if I told you two you can pick one lucky guy each and
really finish this night off with a bang. Anyone you want. Your pick."

	Immediately the guys in the crowd started cheering and pushing
their way to the front, hoping to get their shot and the attention of Coach
Jackson and Greg Foster standing there in the middle.

	The two of them looked around the room like a cartoon wolf looks at
a piece of meat. Dozens and dozens of frat guys and athletes were standing
tall, puffing out their chests, some even whipping out their cocks to try
and impress them into choosing them.

"Alright, Mr. F." Brad said, patting the CEO executive on the back. "Who's
the lucky guy?"

	Greg Foster's eyes were honed in completely on Clay Erickson,
easily the prettiest jock here. The guy that comes with the picture
frame. The lacrosse Adonis felt his gaze and nodded gratefully, taking a
deep breath as he moved through the mass of people.

	The crowd parted around him to let the guy through as he joined
Mr. Foster up front, grinning proudly.

	"Alright, Coach." Brad said, patting the giant man on the
back. "Which lucky guy here is getting some pussy tonight? You can have any
dude in this room. Take your pick."

	He thought about who the muscleman would pick. He felt like he knew
the stubborn man inside and out. Would it be Derrick Jordan, the 7 foot
basketball player with 9 inches of big black cock hanging between his legs?
Trey Atwood, the classically handsome football jock who could charm the
pants off of anyone? Or would it be Justin Chen? The 5'4 Chinese rugby
player, and the only dude here with muscles to rival Coach Jackson's with
an absurdly thick 8 inch piece hanging off him?

	"Easiest decision I ever made." The giant man grunted, crossing his
arms. "I pick you, Williams."

	There were a couple of laughs from the crowd.

	"Come on, Coach, I'm being serious-"Brad began.

	"Don't fuckin argue with me, Williams, you asked me out of this
entire room full of jocks who I pick to be the one who gets my hole, and I
choose you. Every god damn time. Don't give me attitude just because you
don't like my fuckin answer."

	"You really mean it, don't you, Coach." Brad said, looking the
giant man over. "All these jocks to choose from and you'd still pick
me. Even though you already have me."

	"'course I would." Coach Jackson replied proudly.

	Brad leaned in to kiss him, causing a couple of guys around them to
give a classic "awww".

	"God I love you." Brad whispered in his ear. "I want to watch you
with someone. I want to watch you really put out for some guy. Really make
him jealous of what I'm getting anytime I want."

	"Yeah, kid?" Coach Jackson grunted, hot for it. "Who do you think
deserves this pussy?"

	"It's your pick, Coach. You earned it. I want you to pick who you
want."

	Coach Jackson looked across the room, crowds of horny jocks looking
at him, trying to impress him enough to be the one he picks for the honor
of having his hole. He knew this wasn't just about getting off for them, it
was about pride. The pride of besting all these other eligible frat guys
and being the one who gets to put his seed inside of the prized star of the
show.

	"I want the two strongest wrestlers up here." He announced, his
eyes roaming the crowd.

	"Now Coach, I said, you can choose one-"

	"Damnit Williams, let me finish." The giant man insisted, crossing
his arms. "Anyone who wants this pussy is going to have to fight for it. If
you think you have what it takes, step up like a man and earn your way into
this hole."

	The crowd parted as two guys stepped up to the plate. Their figures
were imposing as they towered above the other members in the crowd.

	It couldn't have been a more perfect match-up if they'd tried. The
two wrestling co-captains of the USC wrestling team.

	The first, Rodrigo Ortega, was over 6'5 of latino muscle. The
second, Lawrence Rockford, was a shorter, but more muscular 5'11. While
Mr. Foster's pick was your classic, all-american pretty boy jock, these
guys were anything but. These guys were rough powerhouses. These guys were
mean.

	A dark sleeve of tattoos going down Ortega's left arm bulged where
his muscles strained. Rockford's full dark beard almost gave him a lion's
mane, making him look even more menacing.

	Having already blown each of them twice this evening, Coach Jackson
was very familiar with Ortega and Rockford's similar 9 and 10 inch cocks,
with Ortega having the edge in thickness while Rockford had the extra inch
on him.

	"The two of you are going to fight for the right to fuck me. In
front of all these people." Coach Jackson informed them, letting his own
muscles flex as he stood before the pair of wrestling captains. "I don't
care how long it takes. One of you is tapping out and the other one is
getting my hole."

	The two men looked the other one over, as if going through tactics
in their minds on how to get the upper hand on their opponent. No doubt
these dudes had trained together for months or even years now, always
working for the same goal in getting the school and the team forward. But
this time they were against one another. Enemies, even. Enemies fighting
over the right to become alpha male and claim Coach Jackson as their mate
in front of every single person watching. They were fighting for the
respect and adulation of their peers.

	Coach Jackson took a few steps back, his black football jersey
stained in big blotches of cum from the evening's festivities, yet treating
this performance as if it were the only one that mattered.

	"On the count of three." He commanded, raising his hand up with one
finger. "One."

	The crowd took an intake of breath as they watched the two athletes
get into position.

	"Two."

	Rockford and Ortega stared into the other's eyes, breathing out.

	"Three!"

	As soon as the sound left Dan Jackson's lips, Rockford charged,
pushing into Ortega with as much brute force as he had in him, tackling the
6'5 giant with all of his weight, causing the pair of them to crash onto
the ground in a heap, each of them straining to get the upper hand and pull
themselves on top.

	This match was fast-paced. There were no conservative
movements. There was no defense. This was all-out aggression. There was no
time to conserve energy. There was too much at stake to not give it their
all.

	After a few well-performed techniques by Rockford, managing to pin
Ortega down and hold him against his chest for a few seconds, Ortega forced
himself out of his hold and pulled Rockford down, pushing him against the
ground, causing the 5'11 powerhouse of muscle to strain to roll out from
under him.

	Instead of a standard pin move expected after an evasive play like
that, Rockford instead pushed Ortega three feet back and leapt onto him,
wrapping his arms around him and pulling; a completely foul-able offense in
the wrestling world. But this arena didn't adhere to the rules of
wrestling. This arena adhered to the rules of nature. Where the strongest
male gets sex and the others get defeated.

	Ortega managed to free one of his arms and wrapped it around his
enemy, pulling his neck back until he broke himself free, but not before
suffering a blow to the nose by Rockford's elbow.

	If it hadn't have been clear before, now it was clear. There were
no rules in the realm of fighting for fuck.

	Ortega straightened up, looking his opponent in the eye as they
sized one another up, catching their breath, a bit of blood dripping from
his nose.

	"Coach, should we stop-" Brad began, before Coach Jackson hushed
him with his hand up.

	"Let them do this, Williams. One of them is gonna want this bad
enough."

	Rockford quickly pulled off his shirt and threw it to his
opponent. It was a meaningful gesture. To allow him to use it to wipe up
the small amount of blood, but signifying that they were to continue their
fight.

	Ortega cleaned himself up, raising the shirt up with a quick nod to
his opponent, and then throwing it off to the side, pulling his own shirt
off and throwing it on top of it. The dark sleeve of tattoos running along
Ortega's arm led all the way across his chest, ending after his pec. Sweat
was running down his body as he caught his breath.

	Coach Jackson could barely contain himself he was so hot for these
two shirtless, sweaty muscle studs, fighting in this arena for the right to
his hole. He couldn't describe the enormous, primal need to put out for
these two alphas. One of these beasts would prevail, and he was going to
make sure he made it worth their while. Deep in the back of Dan Jackson's
mind, even though he couldn't explain it, there was some primal,
evolutionary instinct to mate with the strongest alpha male here,
compelling him to want to carry his offspring. It was fucked up, but real
nonetheless.

	After giving the other the chance to collect themselves and
regroup, the two wrestlers began to circle one another, drawing in close
and then backing off again. They had spent a devastating amount of energy
already, and they felt themselves tiring quickly. The crowd of frat guys
around them cheered the pair of them on, some calling each wrestler by name
and chanting for them to give them that extra boost. The audience wanted a
show and they were sure as hell getting one.

	All too soon, Ortega planted both feet firmly on the ground and
leapt forward, wrapping his arms around his opponent's waist, and pulling
him down with all of his might, knocking the wind out of Rockford and
circling his arms under his shoulders and constricting like a snake with
its prey.

	Rockford tried with all of his might to get out of his hold,
rolling onto his side to try and tire his rival out, but Ortega held on
firmly. He could feel his opponent strain to breathe, his mighty chest
struggling to fill out against his grasp. For every movement Rockford
attempted to make to break free, it required double the energy Ortega
required to hold him in place. This was over.

	"Say it." Ortega commanded him, tightening his grip.

	Rockford shook his head, refusing to give up.

	"Say it!"

	Rockford jerked back and forth, trying desperately to break free of
his hold, but it would not work.

	"SAY IT!" Ortega yelled, his long, tattooed arm strapped across his
opponent's chest like a boa constrictor.

	Rockford looked to the floor in defeat. "I give. . ." He panted
quietly.

	"What's that?" Ortega demanded, shaking him.

	"I give! I give!" He pled, patting the floor with his hand.

	At once Ortega released him, leaping to his feet with new
adrenaline and gazing across the crowd as the men cheered him on. He
lowered his hand and offered to help his opponent up, which Rockford
accepted, pulling himself up and the two shaking hands respectfully as they
wiped the sweat from their faces.

	By this time Coach Jackson was already lowering himself to the
floor, tossing his jockstrap off to his side and spreading his legs for his
victor.

	Ortega, breathing a sigh of pride, allowed the many arms
congratulating and cheering around him, to lower his pants down, his mighty
9 inch cock slapping against his abs, rock-hard, as he positioned himself
above Coach Jackson's pre-lubed opening and pushing forward.

	Coach Jackson tuned out all the action going on around him as he
focused on giving himself fully to the stud who fought such a valiant fight
for the right to conquer him.

	His head went back and his feet curled in ecstasy as he felt Ortega
bottom out inside of him.

	The wrestler wasted no time in ramping up to his full-on fucking
capabilities, slamming into the man underneath him as he claimed his prize
and victory in the presence of his many onlookers.

	By now Mr. Foster and his selected mate were already fucking fast
and furiously, with the tall, handsome lacrosse stud going for his second
load inside of the wealthy businessman, his perfect ass thrusting up and
down as he went for another nut.


	Coach Jackson knew the adrenaline from such an exertive fight would
push his exhausted victor toward his orgasm quickly. It was his job to make
the experience as pleasurable and rewarding as possible.

	Wham!

	Wham!

	Wham!

	Even through all the cheers and noise around them he could swear he
could hear each time the massive wrestler slammed into him with such brute
force. There was no doubt about it. Dan Jackson had asked for a hard,
forceful fuck and he was getting one.

	For the first time since he was inside of him, Rodrigo Ortega
locked his dark brown eyes with Coach Jackson. There was still a bit of
dried blood under his nose where he'd been roughed up.

	"Gonna nut in you."

	"Aw fuck. . ." Coach Jackson huffed, tightening his hole for him,
to encourage him.

	"Best fucking pussy I've ever won." The burly latino athlete said,
sweat dripping down onto the man below him.

	"That's your hole right now. You earned this hole, stud." Coach
Jackson nodded, spreading his legs even wider for him.

	He felt the cock burrowing its way into him throb as Rodrigo closed
his eyes.

	Instantly Dan Jackson felt the searing hot seed flood him, feeling
each shot as he became inseminated by more and more prized, king athlete
sperm.

	He couldn't help himself. Even though his hands were firmly wrapped
around his aggressor's back, pulling him into him, his own cock started
spewing, shot after shot of clear fluid spreading across his abs between
their chests as Ortega continued to thrust forward.

	The straight athlete looked down, not believing what was happening
as he witnessed his first hands-free orgasm from another man. The
realization that he could inflict so much pleasure onto another stud like
Coach Jackson from just his mighty cock and adept fucking skills alone
seemed to cause the wrestling captain to enter a new height of orgasm, cum
still freely shooting into the muscle stud underneath him as he rode out
the climax he had earned so valiantly. He wondered if he'd ever be able to
think of anything else every time he fucked a woman from here on out.

	As the crowd continued cheering them on, the two men took one
another even deeper into their own climaxes, completely tuning the world
out around them, until all went black.

											-


	We initiated a last call at 4 am, alerting anyone wanting more head
to get their spots in line for good.  Some of these guys were going for
their fourth and fifth loads of the night, but Coach Jackson and Mr. Foster
serviced them eagerly and gratefully. Mr. Williams had gone home already
and after the big performance the wrestlers had put on for everyone, the
evening was finally coming down for good. After the last frat guy was
finally sent on his way with a smile on his face, everyone was able to take
a sigh of relief.

	John Carpenter locked the front door with an exhausted sigh as we
all looked around the place. There were discarded cups everywhere. Chips
and candy wrappers littered the floor all the way up the staircase. The
place was a mess. But no one could deny that the night hadn't been a
rousing success.

	Coach Jackson and Greg Foster remained kneeling at the center of
the room, a glazed look on their face from the night's events, but
nonetheless poised and at the ready to be of service until properly
dismissed.

	Brad looked at the pair of them slowly brought his hands up for a
slow, meaningful clap.

	"I gotta hand it to you two. You really did yourselves proud out
there. You did me proud out there."

	"Thank you, Brad Williams." Mr. Foster nodded gratefully.

	"You're damn fuckin right we did, kid." Coach Jackson grunted,
beginning to get up.

	"Where do you think you're going, Coach?" Brad asked, stepping up
to them.

	"Where the fuck do you think, Williams? It's past 4 o'clock in the
fuckin morning!"

	Brad patted the mound in his pants with a grin. "You think the two
of you have it in you for one more load?"

	The giant man and his executive cohort looked each other in the eye
before turning back to him.

	"It's about fuckin time we got our reward, huh, Foster?" Coach
Jackson muttered, before reaching out to unzip his athlete's pants. "I got
lockjaw like you wouldn't fuckin believe, but nothing's gonna stop me from
getting at this jock cock."

	The muscleman pulled out his athlete's cock and opened his mouth to
receive it but Greg Foster intercepted it and took it down his throat in
one motion.

	"Damn it, Foster, leave some for me!" Coach Jackson shouted at him,
angrily.

	The CEO executive slowly eased off of it, moving to the side and
kissing the shaft softly with his lips.

	"See? There's more than enough jock cock for the two of you to
share." Brad smirked, reaching down to rest his hands on the back of his
cocksuckers' heads.

	He watched me as I took everything in.

	"Only one thing that would make this even better." He said, nodding
his head at me to come to him.

	When I got to his side, he looked deep into my eyes as I leaned
into kiss him.

	Even after all that we'd been through, there was still that part of
me that got butterflies when I made out with Brad Williams. He and I shared
such a personal love and connection for each other. It was hard to define
or explain. But at that moment we wanted each other. And nothing was going
to stop us from acting on it.

	I felt a hand reaching up to my zipper, slowly pulling it down and
taking my cock out.

	Brad's arms were wrapping around me, pulling me in closer to him as
I thrust my tongue into his mouth.

	I felt a mouth on my cock and a groan as I was serviced next to my
brother.

	I had only made out with my host-brother a handful of times. Each
time it seemed like a timestamp for us to remember just how much closer
we'd become since our lives crossed paths.

	I felt the mouth on my cock pull back and replaced by another, the
sounds of sucking and slurping around us as Brad and I got lost in each
other's touch.

	A groan sounded below us as Greg Foster sprayed the floor in front
of him with his load, jacking himself off as he sucked one of us off. Which
one, I didn't know.

	For the first time in minutes Brad pulled back, looking into my
eyes. "Cum with me, brother."

	I nodded, and leaned back in, kissing him as he pulled me into him
again, rocking back and forth against one another.

	It would be impossible to tell which one of us fired first. The two
of us began to lap at each other's tongues more urgently as our attendants
worked our cocks with their dedicated throats below us, but our attention
was solely focused on each other. In the back of our minds it was almost
like the efforts of our lips and tongues were pulling the loads out of one
another.

	Brad groaned into me and I him as we started shooting. A chorus of
moans below us signified the chain reaction of our orgasms leading to Coach
Jackson and Mr. Foster to start shooting again.

	For the span of at least half a minute all four of us were under
the same climax. Cum was pouring from four cocks in tandem as we pleasured
one another.

	It was without a doubt, a perfect way to finish off the night.

										-

	An hour of cleaning up later, the house was still a wreck, but it
would have to do for the time being.

	Everyone was so tired we could barely speak as we congregated in
the entry hall.

	For the first time all night Coach Jackson seemed to acknowledge
Greg Foster's presence and looked him in the eye.

	"You know what, Foster, you impressed me tonight. I didn't expect
you to be able to keep up with me, but you did it. You should be damn proud
of yourself."

	"Thank you, Dan." The CEO executive nodded gratefully. "That means
a lot to me coming from you."

	"As it fuckin should." Coach Jackson smirked. "I figured you earned
this." He said with a sigh, slowly pulling his cropped, black football
jersey over his head and giving it a good sniff before tossing it his way.

	Mr. Foster caught it, not able to close his eyes, almost not
believing this was real. The once pitch-black fabric was streaked and
stained with blotches of cum. There must have been over a hundred loads
soaked into this jersey from the night's festivities that hadn't made it
down one of their throats.

	"Williams told me what a freak you were with this kinky shit."
Coach Jackson muttered. "Figured you'd get a real kick out of it."

	"I- I-" The man struggled, not able to even find words to say.

	"Enjoy it, Foster." The might muscleman laughed, giving the CEO
executive a hearty pat on the back, his bare chest
heaving. "Besides. . . It's just gonna come right back to me when I win it
off you again this same time next year."


												-

	As I drove home back to the house a lot of things were on my
mind. What a night. Tonight would become legend. To say the night had gone
perfectly would be an understatement. I thought about a lot of things that
had gone on tonight. I thought about how exhausted my body was and how
ready I was to join my man in bed and curl up next to him and sleep well
into the afternoon.

	But even after all the crazy things that had happened tonight,
there was one thing that I kept coming back to.

	My lips were still tingling from the way Brad Williams and I had
connected just now.

I thought back to the promise I'd made myself ever since stepping off that
plane that fateful day that changed my life forever.. And even though it
felt like a life time ago, I was feeling it now more than ever. Brad and I
had gotten lost in our attraction to each other before, but tonight was
different. It had never been this strong.

As I pulled into the garage and took my keys out of the ignition I brought
my finger to my lips and traced around where he had been moments ago.

I was going to fuck both of the Williams men. And I couldn't help but feel
it had never been more in my reach.