Xtreme

Glory Hole Stories

Team Reward

Team Reward (Part 9-10)
Bill Drake (billdrake@hotmail.com)

Part 9

**********

The lines of interstate 88 sped past as Coach Brian Pierson and his newest
recruit Mike White flew down the highway. The drive from Jackson County to
State University usually took about 4 hours, at least at the speed Coach
was driving. The two had been on the road for three hours when Coach felt
Mike's hand reach between his legs and squeeze the sizeable bulge that had
been swelling for the last hour. The kid's hand gripped the man's mammoth
meat firmly and kneaded it while the coach spread his legs a little wider
to let his recruit player fondle his cock and balls through the constrains
of his pants.

Pierson looked over at Mike. He still couldn't get over how amazingly sexy
and good-looking the young guy was. Fresh-faced but with a manly
handsomeness that suggested 18 going on 21. Yeah, his muscles, dark looks
and full stubble would guarantee he wouldn't get carded at any of the
campus bars. Not that State University players ever got carded. Coach made
sure none of them ever really got out of line, and the rest of the town
made sure the red carpet was rolled out for them, so to speak.

"Horny again, son?"

Mike's look of concentrated lust broke into a wide, white-toothed smile as
he admired the hulk of a man sitting in the driver's seat.

"Yeah, Coach. I can't believe this cock." His hand ran up the length of the
shaft now poking the crotch of Coach's khakis.  "Huge fucker. And always
hard."

"You get me hot, kid, what can I say?"  Coach looked back and forth,
alternating between the road and Mike, who was staring down at Brian's
crotch. "Go ahead, boy, have at it."

"Shit yeah," the fullback muttered. He reached down and undid Brian's belt,
then his zipper. Coach's hot, hard erection met his hand. The man's prick
was still growing, pushing up to the man's sternum, up to its full twelve
inch imposing length. White gripped the steel-hard rod, caressing its
length and priming the staff. Without being touched, the man's giant
testicles shifted in their sac, readying for another round of mansex.

Coach kept his eyes on the road, but barely. Mike White's hot cocksucking
mouth was lowering itself over his hard tool. Shit, this kid was a
find. But he knew that the minute he saw the guy in the locker room. His
dickeating prowess was just a bonus.  Already six solid inches of cock were
sunk into Mike's gullet. The athlete bobbed his head up and down eager to
give his fuckbuddy pleasure and to stuff more meat into his throat. Each
downward thrust he'd impale more hard dick into the back of his throat,
then into the entrance of his esophagus.  Mike was eager, so fucking eager,
but he didn't know if he could do this alone.

Then he felt Brian's meaty paw on the back of his head, scratching the
short hair and pushing him down further on that mega cock. His throat was
opening up. More cock slid in. Fuck yeah, Mike thought, as his own dick
throbbed and he began his bobbing and sucking action with renewed vigor. He
wanted this fucking cock, all twelve manly inches of it.

"Yeah, buddy," Coach hissed. "Make your man feel good. Suck my big man
cock. Yeah, you're all man, taking it like the stud you are. Like a State
U. player. You're gonna go far White, on the field and off. I'm gonna make
sure of it. Make sure you become the best fullback State's ever seen. You
ready, White? Ready for it?"

At that, the floodgates opened, the pissslit on Coach's meaty cockhead
flared and Mike's stomach was pumped full of fresh, warm coach sperm. It
felt unreal, so much dick was crammed into his throat, all he could feel
was the pulsing of the cockflesh as it hardened and shot, and the warmth of
the seed filling his gut. It felt exquisite. He felt full and took some
satisfaction in giving his new coach pleasure.

When Mike pulled off the last inch of the massive cock, Brian took the hard
shaft and slapped the fullback's face a couple times playfully as the
athlete caught his breath.

"Goddamn, boy," Coach smirked as he looked ahead at the upcoming highway
exit. He turned on his turn signal. "You WERE ready for it, weren't ya?
You're a great suck, White, now it's time for round two."

The exit was upon them. Pierson pulled off the highway and into a gas
station.

"What do you say, White? Ready to have those big-boy balls of yours
drained?" Brian reached over and grabbed Mike's rigid hardon, then moved
his way down to the swollen nuts hanging beneath in the kid's shorts.

"Ah, yeah, Coach!"

**********

Michael White, Sr. couldn't get cock off his mind. He kept thinking about
the muscular stud who'd given him such an incredible blow job. The man had
to be a few years younger than him, but he had a commanding presence that
oozed from his powerful build. Mike didn't often fuck around with other
men, but something about the cocksucker from the other day turned him on -
the quiet masculinity, the deep brown eyes, the contrast between the hard
stubble and soft wet mouth, shit, everything about the guy got his crank
up.

There he sat in his office, the lower half of his body kept under his desk
to hide the large, aching erection trapped in his suit trousers. He'd been
spending a good hour thinking of what he'd like to do to this guy, when a
sound woke him out of his reverie. The phone rang, an outside number.

"Parsons Advisors, Mike White here."

"Umh, hey...This is Bill Farrell here... they guy from the parking lot..."

Mike's face filled with blood, less from embarrassment than from the rush
of sexual desire filling his veins. He looked out the door of his office;
no one was there to watch or listen to his conversation. Carefully, his
hand ventured down to massage his trapped erect cock. He lowered his voice
in a mock professional tone. "Oh, hello. I was wondering when you'd call."

"Well, I wasn't sure if you'd be interested...in, well, having a little
more fun."

"Interested?" Michael was now whispering. "I haven't been able to think
about anything else all fucking day."

"Yeah, man? Cause I keep thinking about that amazing cock of yours..."

"You like it, Bill?"

"Fuck, yeah. It's great. I'd love to suck that baby again. Get you off real
good.  Or even..."

"Even what, Bill?"

"Hell, let's just meet and see where it goes from there. I'm so goddamn hot
for you now, I can't take it."

"Me too, bud. When and where?"

"How about my place. 832 Belmont Terrace. I'm home after 3.30 - do you want
to come today after work. A quickie before going home to the wife?"

"No, man."

"No?" the disappointment was evident even through the phone line.

"No, that's not enough. I need more. How bout I take off early? Be at your
place at 4."

"Fuck yeah. God, Michael, I'm already wet thinking about it."

"Yeah, I can't wait to feel that warm mouth of yours, buddy."

"You got it. 4 PM."

"4 PM"

The two men hung up their phones, cocks aching and ready.

************

Immediately, Trent Sullivan felt the warm clammy air as he made his way
down the dark concrete-block passageway. It had been a long day at work and
he decided that a stop off at Jackson High locker room after the team's
practice would be a perfect way to unwind. Even hearing the athletes
showering and milling about gave his cock a pleasant throb and reminded him
that he had come to the right place.

Most of the young men were filing out of the shower by now, some getting
dressed to go home, some wandering over to the steam room, and some pairing
up for an after-practice blow job right there in the open.  He passed his
hot, hung teen fuckbuddy Glen Carson leaning against the lockers, getting
his dick sucked royally by Larry Warren. Glen looked up at Trent and
winked; Trent gave him a friendly punch in the upper arm and walked on.

He found an empty locker at last. First to come off were the black dress
shoes and socks. He bent down and carefully placed them in the locker, then
stood up to remove his suit coat. Already he was sweating in lust. He knew
he should have worn an undershirt to the office, but Trent always liked the
feel of the cotton shirt rubbing his bare nipples. As he hung his coat up
in the locker he noticed across the room that Tim Fitzgerald was returning
from the shower, his smooth muscles coated in beads of water and a dripping
towel wrapped around his waist.

Tim was one fine specimen, Trent thought to himself. He'd lusted after the
star quarterback for the last two years now. Something about the tall,
blonde, blue-eyed hunk turned him on like a motherfucker. Even now his
hardon pressed his suitpants tightly, begging for release. Trent's hands
obliged, unzipping the trousers and pulling them off, lifting one leg then
the next.

Tim looked up and met Trent's gaze. He nodded his head knowingly and gave
the hunky businessman a sexy smirk. Those blue eyes made Trent even
hornier. And the eyes never once looked away. Fitzgerald continued to stare
at the older stud as he undressed. The quarterback in fact just removed his
towel and straddled the wooden bench. Placing his hands on his hips he
watched Trent shucking piece after piece of his business attire, showing
off more and more of his meaty bod. Tim's long piece of dick swelled and
rose between his spread thighs, inching up higher and higher as he got
turned on watching this man.

Trent's mouth was dry and he tried to gulp when he saw the teen athlete's
cock at full mast. The boy was hung! Jack Forrester wasn't lying, he
thought. Trent judged that the athlete packed a good ten, maybe eleven
inches of football-stud dick. And it was hard in appreciation of Trent's
muscular form. His own dick snapped up involuntarily in full aching
hardness, as he shucked down his underwear, exposing his full, powerful ass
to the warm, sweaty air of the locker room. He gave one last look over at
Tim. The jock had pulled a bottle out of his gym bag and was squirting lube
all over that long cock. Trent watched as the strong quarterback hand
rubbed the slickened pole up and down, juicing up its length. His gaze
traveled up the sinewed muscle of Fitzgerald's throwing arm, along the
brawny shoulder and knotted neck and finally looked into the kid's blue
eyes, which pierced his soul with full-on teen lust. Trent looked back with
equal and deep desire, then turned and walked toward the steam room. Tim
stood up, big, long dick sticking out in front of his fine torso, and
followed the man.

************

The warm water cascaded down between Randy Fulsom's hard round ass cheeks
as Hank Johnson held them apart. The big bruiser of a linebacker moaned and
gasped as the anticipation combined with the comforting feeling of the
shower spray against his tired muscles. Fuck, how he'd looked forward to
this all during afternoon practice.

Now he felt something part his butt melons further apart. He turned his
head back and saw Hank's cute face bury itself deep into the crevice. Even
with the shower steaming around the two teen hunks, Randy could feel Hank's
eager breath on his jock pucker. It had been at the back of his mind every
time he and Hank got together. Hank fucking him. At first he dismissed the
idea and even shot Hank down when the cute underclassman suggested it. That
cock was way too fucking big. That's why he loved it, loved holding it,
caressing its hard length, feeling it rub against the mass of his meaty
pectoral muscles.  The minute he saw Johnson's giant hardon swinging forth
at the school restroom urinal, fuck, the athlete was overcome with a
hormonal rush that hadn't stopped yet. He couldn't get enough of Hank or
his meat.

That meat now slipped between his thighs. Hank's back was against
his. Johnson kissed the back of his neck, while his hands traveled down the
mass of Fulsom's thickset body. "You know I'm gonna fuck you, don't you?"

Randy was nervous but so turned on. Hank's cock throbbed and rubbed next to
his tightly drawn scrotum. Each caress of his balls worked up his hormones
even more. "Yeah," he croaked.

"And you want it, too, don't ya, Fulsom?" Hank's hands worked their way in
between Randy's buttcheeks, his thumbs parsing and loosening the
sphincter. His dick shot a jet of drool as he contemplated how warm and wet
this ass would be.

"Yeah, Hank, I've been wanting it for a while. I want that dick riding
me. Take my hole, buddy."

"Oh, Randy, I can't wait...Lining up my dick with that sweet hole. Yeah,
I'm about to dick the biggest hottest linebacker in the whole school. Yeah,
you lug, spread those cheeks for me, let me in. Ah shit, it's so
hot. Jesus, my dickhead's clearing it, can you feel it buddy?"

"Fuck yeah I can feel it. Fucking huge baseball bat of a cock you got there
Hank. Stretching my hole so fucking wide. But it feels great. Knowing
you're there. Knowing you're dicking me like you shoulda that first
afternoon I brought you home."

"I'm here now, buddy. My dick wedged tight in your fucking amazing
ass. Yeah, Fulsom, flex those buns while I sink my cock in there. Got four
inches up there at least.  Yeah, I knew you could take it, knew you wanted
it. Goddamn, I'm so hot for this, so hot..."

"Me, too, Hank, me too."

************

Coach Pierson stepped out of the vehicle and sauntered over to where his
new star recruit was getting out and stretching his legs. The kid was so
cute and fuckable he wanted to ravish him right there in the parking
lot. Instead, he clasped his hand on Mike's shoulder and put fifteen
dollars in the player's fist. "Go in and pay for the gas while I pump," he
said.

A bell rang when Mike opened the gas station door. The kid at the cash
register looked up.

"Hi there," he greeted Mike, his cute blonde facing melting into a warm
greeting as he looked up from the Sports Illustrated he was
reading. Intense blue eyes met Mike's as the two chatted and Mike paid for
the gas. It was clear to Mike that this guy was a jock, too. He must have
been about 16, but had a nice full athletic body and thick ball-player neck
that stretched his grey T-shirt. His suspicions were confirmed when the kid
looked at Mike's broad chest and noticed the Jackson High football team
emblem on his T-shirt.

"You play for Jackson County?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's my last year. Heading to State next year. Going up there now to
take a look at the program."

"Figured as much," the other jock smiled. "I recognize the coach out
there. He's been around Lawrence County a few times scouting."

"What position you play?" Mike asked.

"Half-back, and you?"

"Fullback."

"Cool."


Just then Coach Pierson opened the door and walked in. "Hey Tim," he said
to the younger athlete.

The teenager's eyes lit up seeing Brian's hulky frame. "Hey Coach, I was
just talking to your newest recruit."

Brian walked over behind Mike and draped his arm over the fullback's
shoulder. "Yeah, we're gonna be lucky to have him at State next year. And
he's eager to start, aren't ya White?" Surreptitiously, Coach's hand
tweaked Mike's left nipple through the cotton T-shirt.

Mike's cock throbbed in his sweatpants.  His voice cracked as he answered
his coach. "Yes, sir."

Coach grabbed his left bicep. It wasn't nearly so powerful as his right
arm, but it was still pretty big for an athlete his age. Brian Pierson's
meaty fingers circled around the hard muscle and squeezed it tight as Mike
involuntarily flexed.  Tim, the younger jock, had his eyes fixated on the
two men, particularly on Mike's beefy jock bod and strong arm.

Pierson looked down over Mike's shoulder admiring the hard athlete flesh
that firmed up in his grip. Lifting his head, he locked eyes with the
Lawrence County High junior in a conspiratorial grin that radiated control
and lust in equal parts. "Look at this muscle, Tim. This is a real
ball-player's arm...shit it takes discipline to get guns like this."

"Yes sir. I can see he's ready for college play, sir."

Pierson ran his hand up underneath White's T-shirt. The young athlete's
body shuttered as he felt the exquisite touch of Coach's roughshod
caress. He knew he should feel embarrassed being felt up in front of this
jock he didn't know at all, but somehow Brian's commanding presence behind
him turned him on incredibly. He wanted to give himself up to whatever
Coach wanted.

He could feel Coach's firm chest against his own muscular back and the
man's voice emanated from behind him. "He'll be ready by next fall, after
I'm done with him." Now his hands were fumbling with the button on Mike's
faded jeans. "Say, son, how bout you give me a pack of those Magnums up
there behind you. And a tube of lube."

"All we got is KY, sir." Tim replied, his voice croaking and unable to take
his horny eyes off the two hot men in front of him. Was Coach gonna take
off this guy's jeans right there in the gas station?

Fuck, he was! The zipper came down and Mike White's hard fullback cock
appeared as his jeans were pushed down til they fell to the floor. "That's
fine, boy. Don't think Mikey here is all that particular... are ya White?"

Mike's whole body blushed, but his dick surged in eager hardness. "No sir,
I, oh god, you've taken that huge cock out. Man, I can feel it, sir, hard
in my crack. Jeez, Coach, are you gonna fuck me, right here in front of
this kid?"

"You're getting the idea, White. No one ever said football jocks are the
quickest lot, did they?" Brian laughed as he opened one of the oversized
condoms Tim had handed him. "Always make for a good lay though." The latex
stretched tight on his cuntstretcher of a dick. The snugness made his meat
swell and stand up even further.

Tim ogled the two dumbstruck in awe and horniness. "You've taken that dick,
man?" he asked White who just smiled like the Cheshire cat in heat and
nodded affirmatively. "Fuck," Tim whispered under his breath.

Coach now snapped open the lid to the KY. He shoved the tube between the
tight, round cheeks of White's perfect ass. Nudging the tip in the slightly
open sphincter of Mike's ass (well stretched from the hard morning fucks
he'd given it), he squeezed the tube with his powerful fist, shooting a
copious jet of cool gel in to the stud bottom's manchute. Mike moaned and
tossed his head back against Brian's powerful shoulder. "Fuck, coach! Yeah,
wet me up, man. Get me ready for that huge fucking dick!"

"Shit, boy, I think you've been ready the whole fucking ride here. Hey Tim,
stud, why dontcha help Mikey here out. Get down and suck that cock."

"Yessir," the athlete said politely, but he barely had to be ordered. Mike
had a beautiful jock dick, one that had apparently been leaking for some
time now. The whole length, especially the round, bloated head, glistened
in fresh jock dick dew. Tim's mouth watered as he approached the fullback
and assumed the position his own coach had instructed him so well in over
the last year. Mike groaned as the younger jock sank his hot mouth over his
meat. The kid could suck dick.

"Yeah, White, he's good, isn't he? Get you used to it, buddy, you're gonna
get all the amazing head you want. Fuck, you should see those frat hunks
line up in the locker room at half time every goddamned home game. All of
those studs wearing their blue blazers and ties and half of them drunk as
shit. But they're all horny and ready to suck football player dick. Goddamn
amazing cocksuckers those guys are too."

"Argh!" Coach hadn't given Mike any warning this time. He liked to take his
prey by surprise. He loved the Mike's ass constricted around his fat
schlong, the feel of Mike's chest in his arms as the kid gasped for
air. The athlete cursed him now, but it would be just a couple minutes
before he'd be spreading his fullback thighs and hiking his ass back to
meet his coach's thrusts.

Meanwhile, Tim was deepthroating Mike's meat with fervent passion. The
older jock turned him on big time and he only hoped he would be as prime a
gridiron specimen by his senior year. It turned him on, too, to know that
each pounding face fuck thrust had as much to do with Coach Pierson
pounding the jock butt as with Mike's horniness.

Still, Mike was horny. After sucking and swallowing Coach's load on the
highway, his nuts churned and awaited release. It was coming now, right
into Tim's half-back mouth, spurting in regular, warm salvos of rich
division-A cream. Tim sucked it down greedily.

Coach wasn't far behind. He pummeled Mike White's bubble butt
relentlessly. The slaps of flesh against jock flesh filled the room. Along
with the Coach's nasty fuck talk. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Incredible ass kid,
gotta bust my nut deep in there. Third fucking time today. You're too good,
White. Aw, shit, Mike, I'm cumming..." The man's big frame tensed and held
still as he hosed a mega load into the condom sheathing his dick.

A half minute later, Mike White was rubbing the short hairs on Tim's head,
in a gesture of appreciation.  "Thanks buddy, that was awesome."

"Anytime, guy. Maybe I'll visit you next year when you're at State. This
dick is too good not to gave a go at again."

Mike laughed at the kid's eagerness. "Sure, bud. You're welcome to swing on
my pole anytime you like."

Coach was zipping up now. "White, we gotta hit the road. You ready?"

"Yessir."

Pierson held the spent rubber in his right hand. It was a quarter full with
spunk. No wonder the coach's loads were legendary around campus. Casually,
he tossed it to Tim, who was getting up off his knees. "Here you go, kid. A
souvenir. Keep up the workouts and I'll be sure to check on you next fall."

"Sure, Coach, thanks!"

As the two men got in the car, Mike looked back and saw Tim thrusting his
tongue inside the latex sheath, lapping up all the fresh jism he could.

************

Part 10

************

Jackson High Baseball coach Bill Farrell answered the door. As expected,
Mike White, Sr.  stood before him, dressed in his gray wool business
suit. The man was sexy, as handsome and ruggedly good looking as that day
Bill spotted him in his car. Mike's well-pressed appearance was
counterpointed by the scruffy four-o-clock shadow across his face and the
look of animal hunger in his ice-blue eyes. "Fuck..." he muttered,
completely overtaken by his desire for the hot man in front of him. The
coach was dressed only in a pair of the flimsiest Jackson High track shorts
and a baseball cap. His hair-coated barrel chest stood out proudly as the
two men met in a deep kiss. Coach's naked flesh went into goosebumps as he
felt the firm build of this businessman hunk and the sumptuous cotton dress
shirt and smooth-rough worsted wool suit rub against his torso and his
sensitive, erect nipples.  Bill felt Mike's large, powerful hands grip his
shorts and slide them down.  The baseball coach dick sprung free, rigid and
upright, and his exposed ass felt the other man's hands take hold of the
taut gluteal muscle.

Mike moaned in approval in Bill's mouth as their tongues dueled. All week
he had dreamed of Bill's cocksucking mouth wrapped around his dick, nursing
him to another explosive orgasm like he had in the parking lot the other
day. He wanted another hot, wet, fantastic blowjob. Only now he wanted
something else as well: the tight asspucker that clutched and twitched
underneath his fingertips. Relentlessly, Mike teased the assring, massaging
the coach deep in the center of his crevice. The contact made Bill's
muscular body shudder and his head roll back from the oral assault from
Mike.

"Jesus, Mike! That feels fantastic!" His arms wrapped around Mike, pulling
the stud's clothed body tighter against his own naked form. The executive
hunk had a good three inches height on him, and Bill took the difference as
a chance to lick and kiss along the man's sexy, stubble covered chin. What
a hot, amazing feeling, he thought, rubbing his hands all over Mike's broad
chest. The coach's thick erection stood hard - red, throbbing, aching -
against this stud's belt. Usually by now, Bill would be guiding that prick
into some guy's warm, wet hole. He liked being the fucker, watching some
stud's muscle cheeks part around his fat piece of dick. With Gary or any of
his other fuck buddies, he took charge and showed them the pleasure of
being worked over by a nice, thick tool.

But something about Michael White changed that. This man was in charge, and
Bill fucking knew it. Maybe because he was so sexy and handsome. Maybe
because of his cocksure attitude. Maybe because of the nine, erect inches
now wrestling his own hard meat through the barrier of the wool
material. This specimen of married man perfection was stoking the coach's
tight studhole right there in his goddamned living room and Bill was loving
it. With subtle semi-circular motions, his hips ground forward and
backward, moving his ass on Mike's skilled hands. Those expert fingers were
tracing a path around the puckered ring, then teasing their way past the
pinhole muscle, dilating it with the persuasiveness of his long, thick
digits. When the first finger finally cleared and entered and prodded the
coach's rectal walls, both men hissed in a loud intake of air.

Mike moaned while administering a smooth, methodical finger fuck. "This is
one goddamned hot ass. It's sucking my finger right in. Fucking needs more,
too, doesn't it, stud?"

Almost involuntarily, Bill parted his thick quads, lowering his cock so
that its flared, angry head poked against Mike's scrotum and his asscheeks
parted for the welcome invader. "Yeah. It's been a while, bud. Too fucking
long." Bill thought back to the last time he'd been dicked. Ten years
ago. A player of his who turned him on as much as Michael White. The two
rutted every chance they could until the athlete went off to college.  And
even that star ballplayer could do things with his hands that the
businessman was doing now.

"Just makes it that much hungrier," Mike groaned as he worked over the
perfect set of buns in his grip. The thought of working his way in between
these steel hard cheeks made his cock throb hard in his suit. He could feel
the wetness circle out from the tip of his hardon and through the layers of
underwear and suitpants. It was funny, thought the married exec: he'd
fooled around with a couple of fraternity brothers in college, but it had
been a while since he'd fucked around on his wife. But somehow he knew this
is what he wanted, needed. He'd been thinking about it all day and all
week. "Let's go to the bedroom, bud. Time to feed this hungry butt."

Bill broke into a big grin as Mike pushed his ballcap off
playfully. "You're on, big guy."

************

Tim Fitzgerald followed local businessman Trent Sullivan into the steam
room. His cock was hard as steel walking in there, but as the wet heat hit
him, his dick surged and the round prickhead swelled in eager fucklust. Tim
liked chasing and conquering muscleass. He loved spreading the firm jock
buns of his teammates time and again and often insisted on fucking them
from behind so he could watch the flesh part as his hard quarterback dick
speared deep in between the cleft and pierced the tight assring of his
teammates buddies. Yeah, he liked the fucking too, the tight warm heat of
fresh jocksnatch wrapped tight around his thrusting pole. But even more, it
was the hunt that turned him on.

And as incredible as the jock asses were at Jackson High, Tim found his
desire even greater for the powerful, firm muscleasses of adult men. That's
why he loved dicking Mr. Johnson. The hunky QB had meant for it to be a
quick, one-time fuck - a chance to get his hot, hungry cock deep up his
teacher's hole. A chance to spray his jock seed inside Mr. J, mark the man
as Tim's territory, make the guy eager for more of that Fitzgerald dick,
which he wasn't going to get. Only the man had too amazing an ass for Tim
to ignore.  Ever day in class, whenever Mr. Johnson would turn around to
write something on the board, Tim would get a view of his teacher's buns
snug in those dress pants, and he would throw a major boner. Half the time
he made sure to stay after class "to ask a question."

As his sight adjusted to the fog of the steamroom, Tim could make out the
beefy figure of Trent in front of him. The man was scoping out the display
of teen jock flesh, all pumped up from practice and relaxing in the
steam. From the motions of the man's right arm, he could tell that
Mr. Sullivan was jerking off lazily while trying to decide which athlete to
approach. But Tim was more interested in the glorious view of Trent's
backside. It was more amazing than Mr. Johnson's.  Nice, thick cascade of
muscles down from his meaty shoulders to his lower back. The man's waist
wasn't thin and his stocky figure didn't really taper to a V shape. But
neither did he have love handles; it was all hard muscle.

So was that ass. This was Tim's Holy Grail - two meaty globes of giant,
sculpted, round manmuscle. Deep dark crevice running down the center.  A
slight dusting of brown hair on them, though not obscenely hairy. Even
without feeling them he knew they didn't have a trace of softness to their
shape. And fuck, did he want to touch them. Bad.

Silently Tim walked up behind Trent, surveying his prey while his cock
twitched in anticipation. Up close he could see the sheen of moisture
glistening on the man's tan, rugged skin. He could even smell Trent's
cologne, mingled with the definite smell of MAN, the combined odor stirring
the athlete's primal urges, like an animal responding to its mate's
pheromones.

The quarterback lifted his throwing hand and brought it to his
mouth. Keeping his eyes on Trent's backside, he extending his jock tongue
and swiped the length of his palm and fingers. The contact made his body
shiver in heat. He licked again. And again, wetting his digits more fully
with each swath of his wet tongue. Ever since he'd started playing ball in
junior high, folks had called him the Boy with the Golden Hand, he was such
a natural QB. Now, lately, a number of his teammates and of the men in
Jackson County were learning just how talented this hand could be.

Fitzgerald's golden paw was practically dripping with jock saliva when it
wedged itself right deep in the cleft of Trent's ass.  Tim was gaining
precision both on and off the field - his middle finger had hit the man's
rosebud and was working the tight pucker in semi-circular motions. The
steamy heat of the recesses of this stud's ass was, if possible, even
hotter than the sauna in which the two stood.

The businessman grunted at the sudden move and tried to move away from the
invading hand. Only Tim was a move ahead of him, already wrapping his
powerful left arm around the other man's sturdy, bulging torso. Before
Trent knew what hit him, Tim already had two finger crammed up his
shitter. He began struggling against the teen jock's hold, turning around
to see who was.

Seeing the steel-blue eyes of the quarterback, Trent felt his cock throb at
the realization that he was going to be making it with the hottest guy on
the team. Still, fear and common sense gripped him; there was no way he
could take a pole as big as Fitzgerald's up his virgin butt.

"Listen bud," he muttered. "You're one incredibly hot guy. But the truth
is, I don't get fucked."

"That's what you think," Tim growled and sunk to his knees in front of
Trent's fine ass cheeks. Gripping the two globes of man muscle, he pried
them apart and admired the hairy crevice and tight rosebud. Greedily, he
dove in and attacked the businessman's hole, licking and gnawing at the
tender flesh. He pulsed his tongue at the man's sphincter, first gently
then with full pressure, then gently again. He was rewarded by the spasms
of pleasure dilating Trent's anal opening.

"Shit, guy, that's amazing," Trent purred as he ground his round muscular
ass back against the teen star player's mouth. More tongue slithered up his
hole. "How the fuck are you making me feel this hot?"

Tim pulled back and admired his work: a nice, spit-slick hole opened and
pulsing before him. Roughly, he spit a wad of thick quarterback saliva
right at Trent's manhole. "Hell, this is nothing, Mr. Sullivan. I'm just
getting this amazing butt warmed up." With that, he went back at it,
forcing Trent's ass into pleasures he didn't know possible.


"Sweet, Fitzgerald. You got one sweet jock mouth," he said, as he tossed
his head back, surrendering to the manhandling his back end was getting.


************

Rich Fulsom opened the door of the house where he grew up.  His Friday
class was cancelled so he decided to come home early. Plopping an oversized
bag of laundry down in the hallway, he called out to see if anyone was
home. No answer. He picked up his duffel bag, then started up toward his
room.

Walking down the hall he heard the shower running. Must be his brother
Randy. Rich was proud of his little brother. The kid had followed his own
footsteps and had become a star jock just like him. Granted, Rich's sport
was lacrosse and he had the lithe, lean muscle frame and the flared lats
and delts to prove it. He had the same genetic body type as Randy, but with
a few years of college play and off-season conditioning under his belt,
Rich had more muscle yet less bulk on his tall, big-shouldered frame than
his brother.

"Hey Randy, is that you, bro?" Rich called out as he walked into his
brother's room. Clothes were strewn everywhere; his brother was such a
slob, he thought. Then when he walked through the open bathroom door, he
realized why there were so many clothing articles around.

Two men stood in the steamy hot shower, their teen stud bodies locked in an
embrace. One was a cute-faced lean stud with a beautiful power ass, whose
sinewy arms wrapped tightly around the other guy. Rich took a second to
admire the meaty legs, the hard midsection, the beefy chest before coming
face to face with his brother. His brother was getting royally fucked right
in front of him.

"Randy! Holy fuck!" Rich exclaimed.

The burly linebacker opened his eyes and snapped out of his fuck-fueled
reverie. "Rich! Shit, Rich, I'm sorry, it's not what it looks like."

His brother laughed. "Fuck, stud, it's exactly what it looks like." Once
the shock set in though, he showed no signs of dismay, but rather broke
into a confident, eager grin as he watched his jock brother getting bum
fucked.

Hank's eyes opened and he saw a strange guy standing there in the bathroom
watching him, but his mind didn't register the fact. He was too lost in his
nut. The silky grip of Randy's rectum was driving him mad with pleasure, as
he sawed his large cock in and out of the linebacker's hole. At first he'd
gone easy on his fuckbuddy, giving the jock time to accommodate his
supersized piece and get used to being fucked. But after about ten minutes
of careful, shallow shafting, a switch was flicked inside him, and an
intense heat spread through his body, centering in his dick and balls and
radiating outward. He was experience the joy of tight, virgin jock
ass. Wrapping his arms around his conquest, he thrusted deep, fast and
hard, over and over, pummeling that fine meaty ass and slapping his
low-hanging balls against the flesh between Randy's beefy thighs with each
inward jab.

Randy had loved every second of it. Here he was, the big bruiser football
jock and now this cute, big-dicked guy two years younger than him was
taking charge in the way he didn't even dream he wanted. It was goddamned
hot.

Only now, Fulsom stood mortified as his big brother stood there watching
him getting fucked hard from behind. He'd never even mentioned to Rich that
he liked guys, and it felt humiliating to be discovered this way. He wanted
to stop, to pull off that thrusting dick. He wanted to explain to his
brother... Only Hank didn't stop for a second. In fact, the kid was going
to town on his butt and had pressed the linebacker's lunky frame into the
tile shower wall. So he watched in horror, locking eyes with his collegiate
brother while Hank had his way with him.

Then in the midst of his dread and horror, something surprising
happened. Rick reached down and hooked his hands in the bottom of his
T-shirt and began to peel the cotton off up and over his head. Randy
couldn't believe the sight in front of him; his brother had one amazing
chest, nice rounded pecs with dark-red, hard nipples sticking up proudly
from the smooth toned muscle. And a rippled eight-pack that traveled down
to the waistband of his brother's jeans.

Which were being unsnapped and opened. Shit! Rich was taking off his pants
as well. Randy moaned as Hank humped his ass and his eyes widened,
transfixes at the smooth flesh bared as the fly of Rich's jeans opened and
the denim fell to the floor. "Holy shit!" Randy muttered. His brother was
hung with a nice, full cock, not long like Hank's but definitely bigger
than his.

"You like, bro?" Rich said through a clinched smile as he stepped naked and
hard into the shower to join the steamy fuck action. Before his stunned
brother could answer, he pressed his torso up against Randy's, feeling the
wet, heat and the strength of the kid's muscle. Roughly, he ground his
mouth into his jock brother's, working over the stud's lips with his own
fevered liplock. He felt two linebacker hands grip his thick, vascular lat
muscles and heard a stifled orgasmic groan over the shower spray.

It was too much for Randy. The combination of rough stallion-dick fuck from
behind and the heated kiss and groping from his college-jock brother in
front of him made his dick pulse and spray white seed all over Rich's
smooth abdomen, coating the collegiate athlete's crotch in thick, viscous
jock seed.

"Fuck yeah," Rich hummed into Randy's open mouth as his brother gave it
up. He'd traded bodily fluids with teammates and other hot guys on campus,
but nothing til now had compared with the thrill of being hosed by his
little brother. He looked over Randy's shoulder and saw that Hank had
lodged his cock all the way in Randy's bowels and was spurting his wad, way
up deep.

It wasn't until Hank withdrew his spent but still erect cock that Rich got
his surprise. One look at the long dick and he whistled.  "Goddamn, that's
a big fucking cock!" Turning to look his brother deep into his brown eyes,
he teased the teen's nips and said, "You're a pro, Randy.  Taking a dick
like that."

Randy didn't reply. His knees were already on the cold shower floor and his
lips wrapped around the spunk-covered hardon jutting from his brother's
flawless bod.

"Shit, yeah, Randy," Rich muttered, sinking his cockflesh into Randy's
warm, wet gullet. He looked up into the gaze of his bro's big-dicked buddy,
and the electricity and desire floating between them told him that he had
one hell of a weekend ahead of him.

************

It had been a tough practice, Mike White's first with his future team. He
could already tell these guys at State were a great bunch of fellas. They'd
treated him like a friend and a part of the team.  And he could see why
State U. was in the running for the championship year after year. As much
as the teammates were friendly and joking off the field, the minute they
stepped onto the football field, even for practice, there was nothing but
athletic concentration and intense determination. It scared Mike a little -
he'd seen nothing quite like this in his days of high school ballplaying -
but it excited him as well.

At about 5 o'clock, the young men gathered around Coach Pierson for his
wrap-up talk. "Great job, men. You put in a 100% practice today and that's
the way it's gotta stay. I'm not gonna talk your ear off today, you know
what you gotta do. We'll be out here tomorrow for one last practice before
Saturday's match. So rest up and take it easy til then."

The players all shouted the State U. rally cry then disbanded to head back
to the lockerroom.

"All right, guys, you can go...Except for Henderson there - I want to see
20 laps around the field.  Now. I don't want to see you dragging your feet
on the field at practice again. Got it, fuckwad? Get going."

The player named Henderson, a beefy, top-heavy dirty-blonde cornerback, had
an angry scowl on his face, but he didn't dare say anything. He just
removed his helmet and began following Coach's orders.

"And White, come over here." As the other guys filed off, Mike approached
his new coach. "Yes sir?" he asked.

"Well, whaddya think, White? Think you're gonna fit into this team?"

Even now, after spending a full 24 hour with Brian Pierson, Mike couldn't
help by marvel the hunk of the man who stood before him in his athletic
shorts and a knit shirt. The clothes did nothing to hide the amazing brawn
of this studgod. Mike was glad his athletic cup held his forming hardon in
check. "Yes, sir. I can see why it's a winning group of players, Coach. I
can feel the discipline on the team."

"Yeah, all my men know their place and do their job. You will too, White."

"Yes, sir." Mike stood there in his temporary State U. uniform, feeling the
autumn breeze blow right through the jersey knit, making goosebumps form
all up and down his muscled torso. He waited for Coach to say something,
only the hunky man just smirked and stared at White, like he was waiting
for him to do something.

"Fuck!" White muttered when he realized what Coach wanted. That bit about
knowing his place. Coach was fucking horny - already!

Coach smiled. "Not the quickest one, are you White? That's OK, you're a
great player and you know how to suck a real man's dick. That's all I ask
out of my boys."

Mike's teen athlete body shuddered in fear. "Here, sir?" He motioned to
John Henderson, who was still making his laps.

"Don't worry, White. Henderson's seen it all. Now get the fuck on your
knees."

Kneeling down, Mike felt the dampness of the sod against his knees as he
came face to face with Coach's crotch. Yep, the fucker was hard as steel
beneath those shorts. The athlete's hands pawed and worked over the hard
fleshy mound trapped inside the shorts. Slowly and silently, he unlaced
them, feeling the bulk and brawn of Coach's legs and ass push the fly open
obscenely, revealing more and more dark brown downy crotch hair. Something
about the sight really turned Mike on. It was like Coach's body fur was a
proud warning, an announcement that below, hidden by lycra, was a real
man's appendage.

Carefully, he reach beneath the shorts material and grabbed it. That huge
flashlight-sized cock. That piece of raw, masculine power that had been
calling that shots the last two days. Nice, smooth, and getting steel hard
as White fished it out.

The running back craved to lick the surface and to gobble the length down
his throat. It was still hard taking that much meat, but he knew that with
practice he'd be able to deep throat Coach like he deserved. He reached up
and started to remove his helmet only Pierson knocked his hands away.

Swiftly, that fat, vascular cockhead poked its way in between the wire
guards of the helmet.  The meaty weight rested on one of the edges, perched
up to guide the prickflesh straight to White's hungry lips. "Goddamn,
coach, I fucking love this big, leaking mancock." That's all the athlete
said for the next five minutes, because the minute he spoke the thick staff
of coach cock was already inching forward, resting on his lips, parting
them to push further.

"Yeah, suck it, White," Pierson intoned, gripping onto Mike's helmet and
holding the athlete's head immobile as his hips spoke for the both of
them. He savored the wet tightness as Mike's oral cavity stretched to
accommodate his width. Nice thing about having a megacock the proportions
of his - blowjobs were never sloppy affairs but rather meant the vicelike
grip of hot jock mouth on his horny, sensitive manpole.

Mike's dick throbbed inside the protective cup of the football uniform as
his future coach pushed more meat over his extended tongue. He loved it
all, the length, the thickness, the utter hardness, the veins crisscrossing
the whole piece. And he loved that fat cockhead that flared and pulsed
inside his mouth. He could taste the salty dick dew leaking copiously from
the pissslit. He wanted to take that head, run his tongue all over the slit
and collect as much of Coach's essence as he could, but it was lodged too
far back in his throat.

And going deeper. Mike wanted it all, he loved feeling filled with Coach's
manhood, loved the feel of Coach's pubes pressed into his nose, loved that
goddamn man smell. But today, this afternoon, on his knees in the middle of
the State U. practice field, he wouldn't get all twelve inches. His helmet
still on, he could see coach's furry belly pressed against the wire
protector and could sense the two inches between it and his mouth. And an
inch sticking outside the helmet. Leaving nine inches inside him. He wasn't
swallowing all of Coach, but it was plenty. Especially when Coach started
fucking. Sawing that giant prick in and out in hard, shallow thrusts.

Mike could tell Pierson was enjoying this more than a deep-throating. That
the man loved being rough on his mouth. Coach kept mumbling and growling in
a deep-voiced mantra of sex talk, telling White that he was a goddamned
jock whore and that Coach owned his ass and that by the end of the first
year he'd be the best goddamn fuck on campus. The very idea that his
cocksucking was driving Coach wild excited him like mad. With all his
strength he reached around Coach's bare ass, those twin globes of hard
power thrusting into him, and he used all the strength in his arms to slam
those hips forward, pushing that cock harder and deeper into his throat.

"Whoa, boy, that's it! Take charge! The boy knows what he wants.  Wants his
coach's hot, thick cream. Wants these big man's balls to pump their sperm
down your goddamn throat. Yeah, you're sucking it kid, sucking all my
fucking jizz!"

Pierson's salty spray hit the back of White's throat in mid-thrust. Mike's
cock ached in being trapped in full erection, but with the rich, wonderful
sperm being hosed into him, he was happy. After Brian discharged
completely, he gently pushed Mike back off his cock.

The running back fell back on his haunches, catching his upperbody with his
arms extended behind him. Above him towered his hunky coach. The amazing
figure of a beefy figure. As Mike caught his breath, licked the cum off his
lips and smiled up at Brian, he took a minute to examine every detail about
this incredible man. The knotted brawn twisting beneath the knit-polo
shirt, the hard nipples responding to the autumn breeze, the hairy
arms. And of course that dick, a mammoth foot of strength and virility
jutting out from the man's hard belly. Mike could feel his erection throb
and his mouth water as he stared at that huge cock.

Suddenly at the end of Coach's shaft, the pissslit opened up. Before Mike
could even register what was happening, a powerful high arc of hot, yellow
piss pushed up out of the stud's cock and up into the air, landing over and
on Mike's uniform-clad body. Mike was too transfixed to move - the hot
urine just soaked the jersey fabric of his State U. practice uniform. It
felt like a warm August rain. He looked up at Coach's face, who just
smirked as he rested his hands on his hips and let loose with his
bladder. Finally, the arc slowed to a jet, which slowed to a spurt, then to
a trickle.

"All right White, practice is over. Go get cleaned up."

Mike stood and walked back toward the lockerroom. He was soaked from head
to toe in one of Coach's bodily fluids. He removed his helmet, shaking the
sweat out of his hair. He smiled as he looked forward to a nice, long
jerkoff in the shower.