Date: Tue, 15 Mar 2016 05:45:56 +0000 (UTC) From: jhtravus@yahoo.com Subject: Horny Exchange Student Chapter 28 I've got some fun next few chapters lined up, so I hope you guys are interested in reading more! jhtravus@yahoo.com As always, check out my other stories here: http://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#jhtravus Chapter 28 The rest of the week went relatively smoothly. I feel like we were all getting the hang of this new kind of normal with Mr. Williams and Kate separating. Brad really seemed to be taking it well. He tended to have a pretty positive outlook on life in general and I think it was helping him a lot with this transition. Friday afternoon after practice all the guys were changing in the locker room after a pretty brutal practice. One of the guys on the team, Dante, walked up to Brad and me as he threw his towel in the hamper. "Hey Brad. Ollie. We're having a party at my house tonight. Are you guys in?" "What is it?" I asked him, curious. "Dude, it's going to be awesome. Probably better than the party we had before Christmas. My older brother said he'd get us all the alcohol we want. So will you guys be there?" "Of course we're in, man." Brad answered for the two of us, clapping him on the shoulder. "Awesome. People will be showing up around 10." "See you there, man." Brad said as Dante walked away. He turned to me. "Come on, man, I'm not going to have to talk you into it, am I? You haven't been to a party with the guys in forever." "I didn't say I wasn't interested!" I replied, throwing my hands up. "So you'll go?" "Yeah, sure, I'll go." "Excellent! I don't know what I'd do if you'd blown off another party to just stay at home and watch Jeopardy reruns with my dad again." "You may disagree, but that's our idea of fun." "I know. It's depressing." "Look, I said I'd go, okay?" I laughed. "Okay, brother. Looking forward to it. The wingmen are back together!" He grinned, helping me up off the bench as we walked out of the locker room to head home. - Brad and I got to the party around 10:15 and things were already crazy. People were out of control. The house was a mess and already it looked like there were over 100 people there, with more lining up to get in the house. "Now this is what I'm talking about!" Brad grinned, giving me a pat on the shoulder as we made our way inside. Before I even had enough time to gather my bearings Brad was shoving a red solo cup in my hand. "I don't want to hear it, brother." He said to me, waving the car keys in front of my face. "I've got the keys with me. I'll drive us home later. You're going to have some fucking fun tonight and let loose and I'm going to make sure of it, okay?" I thought about challenging him, since I was usually the more responsible one out of the pair of us, but I could tell from the sincere look in his eye that this was one of those times where he just wasn't going to take no for an answer. "I'm serious, Ollie. Let loose. You deserve it, brother." He grabbed a water for himself as I accepted the drink from him. "There we go!" He grinned as I started to get some of it down. "Let's go find the rest of the guys." We weaved through all the bodies until we found some of the guys from the team. Some of them were dancing and others were talking amongst themselves or chatting up some chicks. Over the next hour or so I was constantly getting my cup refilled by various members of the team as they went around making sure everyone was well taken care of. I could feel myself getting a little looser and I was proud that Brad was behaving and sticking with his bottled water. These football guys weren't messing around. Jason Foster in particular was throwing back drinks one after another and his girlfriend was nowhere in sight, most likely talking with her group of girlfriends at another part of the house. "Hey Thomas, pour me another!" Jason exclaimed to one of our teammates, holding out his cup. "Jason, are you really sure you-" Brad started. "Get off my back, Brad." Jason slurred, shooting my host-brother a flippant look. "We're here to have fun!" I watched as he chugged yet another cup full of whatever had been thrown together to get a house full of high school athletes drunk. Whatever it was, it was working. I was having a blast. Brad was right. I really did need to go out with the team more often. I was glad he made me come with him. After about half an hour more, some of the guys from the team were absolutely wasted. None more so than Jason Foster, however. The 6'6" running back usually knew how to handle his liquor but for some reason tonight he was just out of control. I could see Brad wanted to help him and get him to settle down and take it easy, but things had been weird between them ever since Jason had stopped draining his balls on the regular. Jason and I got along fine on the field, not to say it wasn't awkward at times, but Brad and Jason used to be best buddies before I came along and the whole 'friends with benefits' thing didn't quite end up so well between the two of them after Jason got a girlfriend. When Jason started to stumble around on his feet, the guys started to realize he needed to get him home. "You guys stay here, I'll take him to his house." Brad assured everyone as Jason leaned against the wall, rubbing his forehead. "You sure, Brad?" One of the other guys on the team asked. "Are you okay to drive?" "Yeah man, I haven't had a drop." Brad replied, holding up his water bottle. "Come on, Jace." He wrapped his arm around Jason and led him through out the back door toward the car. - Brad looked over at the front seat next to him where his former fuck buddy sat, wasted off of his ass. "Well. . . y-you finally have m-me. . ." Jason slurred, leaning his head up to look at Brad as he drove. "Dude, what are you talking about?" "I- I-I know what you've been missing. . ." Brad ignored him and focused on the road. He heard his teammate shift and the sound of his zipper coming down. "Dude, what the fuck are you-" "Y-you've been w-wanting this. . ." Jason slurred, looking at him. Brad took his eyes off the road for a split second and his jaw dropped. The classically handsome 6'6" running back had managed to spread his long legs over the dashboard and he was sliding his index finger in and out of his hole, looking straight at him. "You- you know when I'm fucking m-my girl I have to picture you w-when I blow my wad. . ." Jason said. Brad shook his head in disbelief as he turned his attention back to the road. "I know y-you've been wanting it." Jason continued. "Jason, you're drunk, man." Brad replied, just wanting to get him home and put and end to this. Jason groaned as he slid his index finger all the way inside of him. "I've been wanting it too, man. . ." Brad continued to ignore him as he sped down the busy street. "I always knew w-when I called it quits that you and I w-weren't done." "Jason, I'm not gonna fuck you, man. You're shitfaced." Brad gave a sigh of relief when he turned onto the street where Jason lived. "Look man, we're almost at your house. You need to pull yourself the fuck together, okay? You don't want your dad seeing you like this, man." For once Jason seemed to take in what his teammate was saying. "Okay. . ." Brad stopped the car a few houses down from Jason's house and helped him pull his pants back up. He seemed to be cooperating until he noticed the big bulge in Brad's pants and reached out to grab it. "Look man, y-you're just as hard as I am. . . Come on, just real quick. . . Just fuck me m-man." Brad calmly moved Jason's hand away and started to drive up into the Foster's driveway. "Fuck, I really need to get off after this. . ." He mumbled to himself as he put the car in park, rearranging the tent in his pants. He got out of the car and went over to Jason's side and opened the door for him, helping him out. "I'm s-sorry, man. . ." Jason muttered apologetically to his one-time best friend, finally aware of the gravity of the situation. "Look, it happens to the best of us, okay?" Brad assured him, helping him to the door. They stopped in front of the door and rang the doorbell. After a while Brad started to worry that no one was home. What the fuck was he going to do with him in this state? Finally the door opened and Mr. Foster answered, first looking at Brad and then his son. "Not again. . . " Mr. Foster muttered, looking him over. Brad hadn't been expecting it but his dick gave a jolt when he came face to face with the man he'd fucked not long ago. It had taken him completely off guard. "Your son's a mess, Mr. Foster." Brad said to him, walking Jason inside. "Yeah, I can see that. It's definitely not the first time and it's definitely won't be the last." "Can you help me get him to his room?" "Yeah, let's get him into bed. Christ, it's a good thing his mom's not here tonight to see this. . ." The man said under his breath. They walked him up the stars and laid him down in bed, taking his shoes off and pulling the covers over him. Mr. Foster looked over at Brad and before he could say anything Brad was walking out of the room and down the stairs. "Brad, I-" But the star quarterback was already out the door. The second he got in the car he pulled out his phone and pulled up Dan Jackson's number, anxiously awaiting his voice at the end of the line. "Come on, Coach, I want some ass. . ." Brad muttered out loud as he waited on the dial tone. After the second to last ring Coach Jackson's low, baritone voice finally picked up the other end of the line. "What the fuck do you want, Williams?" Coach Jackson grunted, groggily. "I want some ass, Coach. I'll be there in 10." "It's one o'clock in the fucking morning, kid." "So? I need to get off. Don't act like you don't want it." Coach Jackson sighed on the other end of the line. "Look kid, you're a pretty face and it's a Friday night. Shouldn't be that hard getting laid, alright?" Brad rolled his eyes, frustrated. "Listen Coach, I don't have time for your 'hard to get' bullshit. Are we gonna fuck or not?" "Kid, you know you can have it any time you want it. Okay? You know I'll put out for you. But for Christ's sake, if there's any chance you can put the moves on some other sorry sucker and find some somewhere else and let me fucking sleep then let me fucking sleep." Brad considered what he heard. Too bad he had just been offered some ass on a silver platter and he had turned it down. But no. Jason was drunk. Brad Williams was willing to do a lot of things to get laid but taking advantage of someone wasn't one of them. Coach Jackson went on. "Go out and find some ass. I want to hear all about it when you're dicking me later this weekend, alright?" Just when Brad was about to respond there was knock his window. He jumped, finding Greg Foster standing right by the car. "Yeah." Brad muttered as he hung up, looking up at the man standing at his car door. Brad was immediately struck by how handsome this man was. Again. There was just no getting around it. Greg Foster was a handsome man. Perhaps even more handsome than his son, who was known around school for being so good looking. The way the handsome business man was looking at him, most likely reliving their past encounter in his head, Brad understood which direction this conversation would lead. Instantly he unlocked the car door. Mr. Foster looked around to make sure no one was watching and went around to the passenger side of the car and got in. "Jason's going to be fine." Greg Foster said as he ducked his head down to sit down. "Happens all the time. He just needs to sleep it off." He said, looking over at him. Brad said nothing, looking the handsome man over, thinking about all the things he wanted to do to him. And would be doing, if he played is cards right. "You know, that was a good thing you did, Brad Williams. Bringing him back here." "Of course, Mr. Foster. He was drunk." Mr. Foster reached a hand up to his button down shirt and slowly started to unbutton the first few buttons. "Yeah, he may have been pretty drunk. But I'm sure as hell not." "Yeah Mr. Foster?" Brad smirked, taking the keys out of the ignition and turning to get a good look. "Fuck, Brad Williams. Ever since you pounded me that night it's all I can think about." He had reached the last button and he opened up his shirt, tossing it in the back seat. "You certainly know how to take cock, Mr. Foster." Brad said, as he reached his hand out and ran it over the man's chest. "And I don't get it enough. Are you going to help me out with that?" "Why don't you get down here and suck my cock, Mr. Foster?" He said, pulling his zipper down and taking out his big, thick cock. "Fuck. . . " Mr. Foster muttered, looking him in the eye. "Brad Williams. Town super star. You should be getting your cock sucked day and night." And with that he leaned over and wrapped his lips around the quarterback's cock. Brad leaned his head back on the seat and moaned. "That's it, Mr. F. Show me what you think I should be getting." Greg Foster pulled off of the quarterback's cock for a second, wiping his face. "Fuck. There's not enough time in the day to give you all the head you should be getting." Brad reached his arm out and cupped the man's ass, giving it a squeeze. "And what about this ass, Mr. F?" "We'll get to that." He licked up and down the thick cock in front of him. "But for now you just sit back while you get the best blowjob of your fucking life." There, in the driveway of the luxury cul-de-sac where the Foster home resided, Brad Williams relaxed as he got a world class blowjob from the wealthy business man. "Fuck, Mr. F. . ." Brad groaned, gripping the back of the man's head as his thick cock was massaged by the man's tonsils. "You're way too good at this to save it for special occasions." Greg Foster just moaned at the praise this athlete that he was so infatuated with was laying on him. "If it were up to me you'd be getting head like this every day of your life, Brad Williams." The man said, looking up at him as he tongued his cock. "You keep sucking cock like this and that can be arranged. . . UUGH!" He groaned as the handsome business man swallowed him to the hilt. "Damn Mr. F., if you keep swallowing my cock like that I'm gonna shoot." "Mmhmm." The man nodded eagerly. Going down on him with renewed vigor. "But I want some more of this ass. . . It was too good last time to pass up." Brad said, squeezing the man's ass wantonly. Greg Foster looked up at him with his crystal blue eyes, wrapping his tongue around his cock. "Oh you're getting my ass." He went down all the way before coming back up again. "You're getting some ass. . . and the blowjob. You're going to shoot a load down my throat and up my ass before I'm done with you, Brad Williams." Brad Williams. He couldn't stop saying the name out loud. The man was absolutely infatuated with the town superstar quarterback. It was like letting this handsome, wealthy business man get down on his knees to suck his cock was like a dream come true for him. He thought back to the dildo and used jockstrap the handsome business man kept in his nightstand. How he fucked himself with it while breathing in the jock scent, pretending it was Brad Williams who was using his ass. "Okay then, Mr. F." Brad muttered, grabbing the back of the man's head and pushing him down all the way onto his thick cock. "Get ready for the first load you're going to take tonight. . ." Mr. Foster sank his mouth down onto that thick jock cock as far as it would go and undulated his throat muscles in order to give the superstar quarterback the most pleasurable experience possible. "Fuck, Mr. Foster, here it comes!" Brad groaned through gritted teeth as he started unloading deep within the confines of the man's throat. Like the true cumpig he was, the handsome business man didn't pull back. Not even a little bit. If anything, he was grinding his face even harder on the jock's groin, trying to get as much cock down his throat as possible. Just as he felt the first jet of cum coating the inside of his throat he started to bob up and down on that thick jock cock to make sure he'd be able to taste as much cum as possible. "Goddamn, Mr. F. . ." Brad praised him as he continued to shoot, completely bewildered by this otherwise prestigious, well-respected man's lust for jock cum. Finally, the man backed off of the quarterback's spent prick, making sure to lap up any trace of horny quarterback spunk leftover with his eager tongue. He looked into the horny 18 year-old's eyes and swallowed, not able to hide the elated look on his face. "Thank you. . ." The handsome business man muttered, closing his eyes for a second to sigh. "You'll never know. . . Fuck, I've dreamed about sucking you off ever since I first saw you, Brad Williams." Brad watched as he sat back in the passenger seat, catching his breath, licking his lips, satisfied. Amazingly, a damp wet spot was clearly visible through the man's khakis. "Holy shit, Mr. F, did you nut just from sucking me off?" Greg Foster laughed, exhausted. "Like you wouldn't believe. . ." "Jesus, do you have a clit in the back of your throat or something?" "You sure did a good job convincing me. Goddamn, that felt good." He looked the superstar quarterback in the eye. Brad checked the time on the stereo. "Well, if you don't mind that I'm in a rush. . ." He smirked, expectantly. Mr. Foster thought for a second, feeling like the quarterback was waiting for something. "I believe I was promised some more of that dadpussy before I left. . ." Brad stated, reaching his hand out to feel up in between the man's legs. "The day I tell Brad Williams no. . ." Mr. Foster grinned, unzipping his pants and rolling them off. "Fuck, Mr. F, you really did nut while you were blowing me." Brad observed, eyeing the man's sticky briefs. Mr. Foster looked at him with a slight smirk. "With you, Brad Williams, the real challenge is trying 'not' to cum whenever you're using me." "That is so fucking hot. . ." Brad muttered as he leaned his head over and started kissing up and down the man's neck. "Where do you want me?" Greg Foster asked, completely turned on. Brad met his gaze and looked him straight in the eye. "You ever given it up in the back seat before, Mr. F?" "Jesus. . ." The man groaned. He couldn't climb into the backseat fast enough. "How the hell does an 18 year-old have this much game?" Brad climbed over to the backseat with him and leaned down to kiss him, pulling at his lip. "Trust me, Mr. F. When you've gotten laid as much as I have, you learn pretty fast what works." "Fuck. . ." Mr. Foster groaned as he spread his legs. His cock was rock hard again, despite shooting so recently. "You can't get me to put out for you fast enough, Brad Williams." Brad reached into the glove compartment and brought out a small packet of lube. Greg Foster couldn't help but laugh. "And I'm guessing it's not the first time you've gotten someone to give it up for you in the back seat?" Brad just stared him down with a smirk. "Are you surprised?" "Not even a little bit." He replied, opening his legs, expectantly. "So tell me, Mr. F." Brad said, lubing up his fingers and sliding them into the man's hole, making him wince. "You let anyone have it since I did?" "No. . ." The man shook his head, frustrated. "Fuck, giving it up for you again is all I could think about." "Yeah, well it's about to happen, Mr. F. Big time." Brad said, staring right into the handsome business man's eyes as he slid his fingers in and out of his hole. "Oh fuck. . . Brad Williams is going to fuck me. . . Again. . ." "You gonna show me how bad you've been wanting it again, Mr. F?" "Yeah. . ." Greg Foster almost whimpered, slapping his rock hard cock against his stomach, impatiently. "Fuck, there's just something about a dude in his forties who hasn't gotten fucked in a while and wants it bad." Brad said, easing his fingers out. "God, I've wanted it so fucking bad, Brad Williams. . ." "Then let me in, Mr. F." He said, tapping the head of his prick over the man's opening. "Give me that hole." "Take it. . . UGGGHHH!!" "Easy Mr. F." Brad assured him, making sure to take his time to let the handsome business man get used to him. "Goddamn, that's a thick cock. . . " "Man, your cunt's just as tight as I remember, Mr. F." The man hung his head back and moaned in pleasure as the capable quarterback slid his dick in and out, smoothly. "Damn, Mr. F, this pussy's just too good for you not to be letting a hung jock like me treat it right on the regular. A jock like me who knows what to do with it." "Oh fuck!" Mr. Foster groaned, reaching down to jack himself off. "You like the sound of that, Mr. Foster?" Brad asked him, picking up the pace, having his way with the man's ass now, legs spread open and willing. "Yeah, I might just have to swing by on the regular from now on. This cunt's just too tight to pass up." "FUCK!" Greg Foster shouted, jacking himself off with hard strokes. "Don' tell me I'm gonna make you cum already, Mr. F?" Mr. Foster couldn't even respond. He was too focused on experiencing the wonderful sensations the quarterback's thick jock cock was inflicting on his entire body. At once Mr. Foster's already tight hole constricted even tighter on the quarterback's cock and Brad watched as jizz erupted from the man's charged prick. "FUUUUUCK!!!" Greg Foster bellowed, drenching his chest and face with his spunk. "That's it, Mr. F. . . Let me make you cum. . ." "Goddamn!" He panted, letting go of his cock and shaking all over as his orgasm continued to rip through his body. "I could feel it, Mr. Foster." Brad said, picking up his pace. "I know when I'm really making a guy cum and fuck, that was good for you, wasn't it?" "Unblievable. . ." The handsome business man panted, catching his breath. "You're not off the hook yet. I still need to get my second nut in." Brad told him, really slamming into him now. "You go as hard as you want, Brad Williams. Use me to get off. I'm here to take it." "It's so fucking tight, Mr. F. . ." Brad groaned, slowing down. "I don't want to cum just yet, but you're pussy's just pulling it right out of me. . ." "You take all the time you want, Brad Williams." The man replied, almost in a trance. Brad continued to take the man's ass in the backseat of the car for another ten minutes, relishing the sensation of fucking such a tight, willing hole. Greg Foster just looked up at him, complete ecstasy on his face. "Fuck, Mr. F. . . Here it comes!" "That's it. Give me your load." He encouraged him, reaching his hand out to run it over the quarterback's perfectly sculpted abs. "Here it is! UUUUUUGHHH!!" Brad groaned, unloading into the man's body, shaking from how intensely the velvety tunnel massaged his thick jock cock. It was so intense that he had to pull out mid-shot and he aimed it at the handsome business man's face, painting him in a heavy layer of spunk until he had absolutely no cum left. Greg Foster looked up at him, his crystal blue eyes twinkling with lust as he grabbed the head of Brad's cock and licked the remaining spunk off of it, relishing it as a prize. "Fuck, Mr. F. . . " Brad panted, trying to catch his breath. He couldn't believe the sight before him. This masculine high member of society was absolutely drenched in his cum, and the grin on his face was unmistakable. "That was even better than last time." "Does that mean we'll be doing this more often, Brad Williams?" "You keep putting out like that and you'll definitely be seeing more of me. Fuck. . ." Greg Foster could barely contain his excitement at the praise he was receiving, along with the promise of more to come. "Your face is a fucking mess. . ." Brad said, watching as his cum ran down the handsome man's face. "Here. . ." He reached his arm over to the front seat for his boxer briefs and tossed them on the man's face. "Keep 'em." "Aw, fuck. . ." Mr. Foster groaned, barely able to contain his excitement. "Just a little something to remember me by." "Thanks. . . That last pair you gave me have just about been rubbed raw they've been stretched over my face so much." "Man, Greg Foster. . . Upstanding leader of the community. . .Who would have suspected you were such a cumslut?" "You don't even know the half of it, Brad Williams. . ." The man winked, scooping up some cum from his chest and letting it drip into his mouth. - Brad made the drive back to the party with a euphoric, calming feeling. How was he able to do it? These older guys were just drawn to him. He'd been on the phone with Coach Jackson, and then just like that . .. He hadn't even hung up the phone on his steady pussy before another willing hole was being offered to him, no questions asked. It was that easy. These horny middle-aged guys couldn't stop putting out for him even if they tried. They just couldn't help themselves. He could hear the music from the party all the way from the next block. There was no telling how much wilder the party had gotten since he left to bring Jason home. He worried about Ollie. What if his host-brother thought things were getting out of hand and instead of getting back to the party to be there for him he'd been too busy getting laid? He found a place to park down the street and passed a couple of drunk teammates waiting for their rides outside. "Brad!" A guy from the team called out to him, an air of drunken elation in his voice. "Glad you could make it, dude!" "I was here at the beginning, Kevin, I just had to take Jason home, remember?" "Oh. . ." Kevin replied, clearly not even knowing where he was right now. "Is he okay?" "Yeah, he'll be fine. He just needs to sleep it off. Do you know where Ollie is?" "Yeah man, he's back inside with the rest of the guys. Dude, I love that guy. He made Jake laugh so hard he pissed his pants." "Alright man, see you later." Brad waved to him before stepping inside. After a few minutes of weaving between the crowd he found his host-brother surrounded by his teammates just where he'd left him. - "Brother!" I called out to Brad, patting him on the back. "Dude, where've you been?" "Sorry Ollie, I got him home okay and he'll be fine. Are you having fun? This party's fucking crazy!" I could barely understand him in my state, especially with the music on so loud. "I'm so glad you made me come tonight, brother." I told him, gratefully. "I'm having so much fun, seriously, I-" But before I could finish a quiet was coming over the crowd of people. People were looking out the window and before I knew what was going on, people started running in all different directions. "COPS!!!!!!" Someone yelled at the top of their lungs. "Oh shit. . ." Brad mumbled, grabbing me by the arm as he tried to navigate us through the crowd. I could see the red and blue lights flashing from the street. This party was officially busted. And it looked like the whole squad was practically here. Both of the doors leading out of the house were blocked off with people trying to scramble their way through. There was no use. We were caught. Brad seemed to be realizing there was no way out. He stopped right in front of me and looked at me as seriously as he ever had in his entire life. "Look, if you've ever prayed in your entire life, pray that the officer who walks through that door is either Officer Jones or Officer Davis, okay?" "Officer who?" I asked, thinking my host-brother had gone insane. He just looked at me like he knew what he was talking about. We watched as the crowd parted. Brad craned his neck, trying to get a look at the officer making his way through. An officer stepped through the crowd, shining his flashlight around and pulling out his radio. "Shit. . . " Brad sighed, defeated. The practically 400 lb officer with what seemed to be chocolate syrup all over his face and down his shirt cleared his throat, bringing the radio up to his acne laden mouth. "We've got a huge party here over on Jefferson Street." The voice on the other end cracked as they replied. "Teenagers?" "Like you wouldn't believe. I'd say about 100 of them. We hit the jackpot, alright." He flashed a satisfied, toothy grin as he shone his flashlight all around the room, taking great glee in seeing all the faces of scared adolescents. I nudged Brad and looked over at him. "I take it this guy's not exactly who you were hoping for?" "Not quite. . ." Brad shook his head, sighing. "But don't worry brother. I have a plan." - After what felt like hours of standing there waiting to hand over our information to the smug, crusty officer, I finally gave a sigh of relief as the two of us stepped out into the fresh air. We started walking to the car but Brad stopped in front of one of the police cars and inspected one of the stickers on the back. "So do you want to call your dad or should I?" I asked, pulling out my phone. "You call him. But leave the rest of this to me. I've got this, brother." He replied, pulling out his phone and dialing a number as he read the sticker on the back of the police car. I watched him curiously, wanting to see where this was going. I could hear a voice on the other end of the line as he listened. "Correct, this is not an emergency." He said into the phone, pacing around. "I'd like to leave a message for either an Officer Davis or Officer Jones please."