The Alien Culture Project, part 3
by Rio Mack
DISCLAIMER: Contains descriptions of gay sex.
Chance woke up the next morning feeling wonderfully refreshed, more invigorated than he could remember feeling in a long time. He stretched out the length of his firm hard body in bed, savoring the feel of his dick rubbing against the cotton sheet. What a milestone night last night was. Sex, a glorious bout of sex. Finally. And what incredibly satisfying sex it was. Dang, son, he laughed to himself, I think you're on to somethin' here. You may have found what you'd always been lookin' for but didn't rightly realize.
A vibrant, electric future seemed to stretch out in front of Chance, a wild montage of manly beauty - cocks of every size, hard and soft, hairy and smooth, cut and uncut, thin and fat; firm muscles to stroke and lick; hot, anxious mouths and dancing tongues; lips brushing against beard-stubbled cheeks; and dangling ballsacs, ripe for caressing - the whole dazzling scene covered in a sweet glaze of thick cream. Chance was amped to face the day now. He rose out of bed savoring every move of his muscles. He walked nude, long dick swinging listlessly in the stillness of 6AM, out of his small bedroom into the common room he and his roommate shared, to make a cup of tea. He brought one of Reed's stroke books with him to leaf through as he waited for the water to boil. His roommate was still asleep. Life went on yesterday for ol' Tommy there as usual, prob'ly, Chance figured, and had to laugh in a kind of giddy, stunned amazement at how for himself it had changed utterly.
Damn, he liked guys' dicks, he could finally admit to himself, flipping through the magazine and rubbing his own as he waited for his tea to steep. He stopped to dwell on the photo of a gorgeous young stud whose long, pointy-headed, cut cock was in full erection. So beautiful, so sexy - thick, sleek, alive with a kind of power; fuck, he could suck on one all day, it felt so good in his mouth. Guys' mouths, he realized, were made for guys' dicks. To rub lips over, to caress with a tongue, to get slick, wet, hard, and ready to shoot. It was wonderful to be able to luxuriate in the desire for them so frankly now. He realized now that for years, since high school, probably, or even before, every time he'd seen a hot guy, in person or in a photo, he'd wondered about the guy's dick. And when he had a chance, in showers or locker rooms, to see one, he sure took it. He could probably sketch from memory, it dawned on him, the cock of every guy he showered with in high school. Oh well, he grinned happily, thinking of Reed's comment from last night, 'guilty as charged'! Except he didn't feel guilty at all; instead, he felt like he was primed to start having the best sex of his life, the kind he'd only dared dream about. And damn! he laughed, he wanted as much as possible right now! He was way overdue.
He laid aside the magazine and stared out the window while he sipped his tea, looking out on an exciting world. The leaves were turning - and hey, so was he. It's funny, he thought, as he rubbed his dick idly, he had had such awful luck in sex until things bloomed so wildly and abruptly with Reed. He tried sorting it all out in his mind. Despite how badly he'd craved the hard, physical passion of sex, it had been an empty scene at best for him, a fevered space of masturbation and longing, punctuated by a few half-assed attempts with women, and endless fascination with male musculature. Now sex seemed like a rich, exotic land full of drama and promise, a place where fulfillment would be beyond what he could have hoped for. Hope had transformed into discovery. It was like his daddy always told him when Chance'd kept trying - and failing - to do something one way, but then hit pay dirt by trying a different way: Son, you were just fishing in the wrong stream, is all.
After tea, he took a half-hour run to get warmed up before wrestling practice. Even on his run, he felt better, stronger. It's like I'm more centered, like I fit a little snugger in myself, he thought. More alive to the world.
Back at the dorm he took a quick shower and got dressed. He decided on no jock today; he wanted to hang full, firm, and loose, especially at wrestling practice. He wanted to saunter around like a bull stud, potent with sperm - that's how amped he felt. Today in the gym was a day to fully savor the feel of his raw dick, covered only by a thin singlet, as it curved out obscenely away from his body or brushed another guy's body or pressed up hard against it. So he threw on some jeans, another too-small T, and his Carhartt jacket. It was 7:20, right on time to meet Reed.
Reed was dressed and ready. They kissed, hugged, and smiled at each other. Reed gazed at that strip of hard abs, visible between the bottom of Chance's T and the top of his jeans. But no jock this time, just hard flesh all the way into the low-rising waistband of his jeans. His mouth watered. No time for small talk, though, as Chance wanted to hustle them to the gym.
The wrestlers lifted and practiced in a small, though ample space on the second floor of the school's athletic complex. The wrestling program was highly-ranked nationally, its coach had won two national championships, so it rated a good space in the athletic program pecking order. The wrestlers had their own locker room and shower space, plus a big enough practice room to be divided in half - weights/machines and mats - so the wrestling program was its own little world, independent of either mainstream college students or any of the other teams' athletes. In the locker room, Reed watched excitedly as Chance stowed his jacket, took off his work boots and socks, then stripped off first shirt and then jeans.
"Damn," he laughed, "free-ballin' today, huh? I thought so."
"It's the way I feel today, thanks to you," he said, bending over to kiss Reed, who lovingly stroked that luscious dick. "I just wanna let it all hang out. Hey, ain't you gonna change?"
"In a minute. I wanna enjoy the show. Fuck, would I love to suck you off right here."
Chance laughed and wriggled into one of the singlets he had stored in his locker. Reed had to give out with a deep, rich 'damn' when he saw how outrageously outlined his thick, naked cock was under the singlet. "Fuck, man, you might as well be wrestling nude, like the Greeks."
"I'm kinda into celebratin' my body today, dude."
"It's gonna be quite a fuckin' celebration, then, let me tell you. God-damned national holiday, the way you're built."
Reed peeled his own clothes off, stacked them on the bench by Chance's locker, and started getting into his gym shorts and T. Soon they were joined by a couple other young wrestlers, who acknowledged Chance, as well as Reed ("hey, the guy who's gonna observe us!"), and changed. Reed got just a quick glimpse of the young men nude, both of whom were built (but neither like Chance), before Chance led Reed through the locker rooms and out into the practice room.
It was nicely lit, Reed noticed, well-equipped, but hot as hell.
"Jesus, man, it's like a furnace in here."
"I know. It bugged me at first, but now I'm into it. Gets your muscles loose in a hurry. I think Coach always wants us to cut weight or something. You sure as hell get an amazing workout every time, sweatin' up a storm."
The team drifted in and Reed went to work taking photos and making notes in his log. He became almost a fly on the wall, as far as Chance was concerned, who was into his body-celebration day. A quick stretch (he was already primed after his morning run), and then he hit the weights. His excitement did indeed result in a new swagger, one he really felt, as he walked around the weight room that morning, and most of the boys noticed it, too (either the swagger or the huge impression his dick made unencased by a jock for the first time at practice). Chance could now think of the boys on his team frankly, sexually. He didn't just study their physiques, he perused them critically as guys he might like to fool around with. That new frankness showed in his patter that morning. Lots of "lookin' good today, stud" and "damn, I gotta feel that bicep, dude; how much you curlin' anyway?" and "those abs are lookin' hot." Nothing very blatant, just a marked, subtle difference, a new level of bodily intimacy.
Such intimate awareness of each other's bodies was easily accomplished, given the skimpy amount of clothes the wrestlers wore for lifting. Reed quickly noticed, snapping pictures here and there whenever he caught a good pose, that almost all the boys wore their singlets pulled down around their waists as they lifted. Some simply wore a pair of gym shorts, most with no top or just a sleeveless one. Practically speaking, it allowed them to see each muscle in the mirror as they worked it, gauging the effectiveness of their workout. But, Reed smiled knowingly, it also meant they could show off and view each other's bodies more easily that way, too, judging by how often their gazes lingered on a team mate's sweaty torso. The coach, too, he noticed, was having a field day staring at his built young team. Now there's a job I should have considered, Reed sighed; if only I'd known . . .
Coach, Reed saw, spent a lot of time with Chance as he did his upper body routine. The coach wore a pair of sweatpants that were cut just right to show off a nicely-formed ass. On top he wore a sleeveless T, cut low to show off the lightly-furred chest of a very in-shape thirty-something. He watched appreciatively as Chance did his raises, then spotted him at the bench press. At one point, in order to show Chance how the muscle was supposed to flex, he took off his T, and then "casually" forgot to put it back on. Reed took some snaps of this beautiful youngish bear. Another time, to show Chance how to change his grip on a biceps curl, in order to get a better pump, he nuzzled right up behind Chance, asked him to hold a contraction, then traced his fingers back and forth along the muscle as he explained the theory behind this new grip. His other hand just happened to rest very informally on Chance's lower hip. Reed got a few more snaps. He's either the best hands-on trainer around or this guy's copping feels of his young squad whenever possible. But fuck, the two of them looked very hot together. And Reed didn't think he was seeing things as Chance seemed to press his ass further into Coach's dick. Quite a fast learner I tutored last night, he thinks wistfully. At this rate he'll be giving me lessons in a few days.
"All right," coach announced after the weights session, "listen up. For today's scrimmage, I want you each to wrestle someone out of your weight class. Big guys, see if you can handle the speed of some of the lighter guys. Little guys, your resistance is about to get an extreme challenge. We'll do the usual, 2 minutes, followed by 1, followed by 1."
Brock Sears, one of the seniors on the team, wasted no time zeroing right in on Chance before any other wrestler could. He had been turned-on by Chance's cut perfection all term, and today, seeing no jock under Chance's singlet, was too much. He was definitely gonna be feeling up that cock as much as he could legitimately get away with.
"How about it, stud?" Brock smiled cockily. "Think you can take me?"
Chance looked him up and down, his gaze exceeding the bounds of propriety, a lingering look lost not at all on Brock, whose pulse began to trip even faster.
"I'd sure like to try, dude," Chance drawled out.
"I gotta go change into my suit," Brock said coolly. "That'll give you a coupla minutes to chicken out."
"I understand, dude. You gotta change your suit. And if you don't come back, don't worry, I'll know you ain't punked out."
"Man, is that guy hot for you," Reed commented softly, as he came up behind Chance.
"Ya think so? I was thinkin' so, too."
"Dude, he never took his eyes of your cock. Shit, though, I guess I could say that for about half the guys in here."
"Well, the fish you wanna hook is supposed to be attracted by your wiggly worm, dude. That's the idea."
"Worm? Dude, you've got an anaconda at the end of your line."
"That's so I can hook the big ones, bro!" Chance laughed as he gave Reed a quick feel.
Neither Reed nor Chance were surprised to see Brock walk back in the practice room a few minutes later in his singlet but, like Chance, noticeably forgoing a jock.
"Whoa, lookee-thar, pardner. These are gonna be some sweet pics."
"You don't mind, man? For real? If I flirt with Brock?"
"Hell, no," Reed said, maybe a little too chipper. "You give a hot young kid a Ferrari, and he's gonna go nuts with it for a while. But just remember who's waitin' back at home for you when your joy-ride is done, junior!"
Chance had always thought Brock had the best body (next to his own) on the team. He thought of Brock as the senior stud of the squad. Brock wore his hair shorter on top than Chance and kept it shaved skin-close on the side; that jarhead cut, along with the permanent three-day beard stubble that always covered his lean jaw, gave him a macho look Chance's gaze loved to linger on. His body, hard and wiry, more than lived up to that look's rugged promise. Chance wrestled at 163, Cain at 145. Chance worked out hard to maintain the 5% body fat rule (you couldn't have less, and Chance had not a drop more), but Brock, he felt, couldn't possibly have met the requirement. He looked like he had -2% body fat or something. Most good-lookin' guys had a muscular physique you could describe as 'cut.' On Chance's body, far above average, there wasn't one muscle whose definition wasn't easily traceable; he went beyond cut to 'ripped'. But Brock, though not as bulky, could only be called 'shredded'. Chance could see the actual striations of the muscles in his abs and arms, something he found sexy as hell. In the shower, he'd noticed Brock had just a few sparse light-brown hairs between his pecs, and a sexy little line that went from right below his belly button down to a wispy puff of dirty-blonde hair that sat atop about seven and one-half inches of beautiful man-meat. It was a dusky pink, and curved ever so slightly. Chance had always been attracted to it; now, as he studied what was outlined by Brock's singlet, he thought it looked delicious. Some guys had tight scrotums, but Brock was like Chance and Reed: he had that nice, loose ballsac that Chance loved to watch jiggle.
They got in their set positions, Brock on top, managing to casually brush Chance's ass a few times as he got set. When coach signaled, they jolted into action. At the start, each boy was trying to show the other who was the alpha male. Chance easily evaded Brock's first hold, and managed to grip Brock tight around the waist and slam the boy to the mat. But Brock scooted up quickly before Chance could pin him.
"You're even faster than you look, man," Chance gasped.
"You ain't seen how fast yet," Brock sneered.
No more fucking around, Brock thought, so he moved in and cupped a hard hand right on Chance's ass-crack as he tried to push the boy to the floor. He made sure the tops of his fingers brushed Chance's balls and dickhead in a way that couldn't be misinterpreted.
"Like what you feel?" Chance grunted as he cupped one of Brock's pecs and tweaked his nipple. "Yep, guess so, cause yer tit's sure nice and hard."
"That ain't the only thing gettin' hard around here, stud," Brock said, straining to grab more of Chance's hardening cock. Both boys were very excited at how quickly this had turned to the kind of action they wanted.
Chance quickly reversed out of the hold Brock had him in, pushed the boy on his back, and was on him in a minute, making sure that both their straining cocks were touching.
"Fuck that feels good," Brock grunted, as they mashed their dicks against each other in a hold neither wanted to break.
"I was thinkin' the same thing, dude," Chance breathed low and hoarse.
Coach, meanwhile, was glued to this match alone. Who wouldn't be? These two, the hottest studs on his team, were sort of half-wrestling, half-fucking. Damn, was it getting him hard, Coach thought, as he rubbed his own cock through his sweatpants, trying to be inconspicuous but too jazzed up to really control himself. He knew he was looking too long, and fuck that kid with the camera was pointing right at him; damn, I bet he got a pic while I was stroking myself. Cool it, Wyatt, he said to himself, you don't want to lose this job. So he forced himself to look at some of the other matches for a few seconds before swiveling his head right back to the main event.
"Damn, you are one hot stud. Your cock is fucking huge, dude!" Brock almost coughed out as they broke for the next round. "You want to continue this in the showers after practice?"
"Love to, dude."
Coach whistled to start the second period and with that Chance got serious. He flipped Brock over on his back easily, the older boy's mind not in the here and now but rather divided between the memory of their mutual dick-rubbing and the anticipation of the shower to come. Then Chance quickly reached behind to grab the senior by the ass-crack, forcing his shoulders to the mat while his middle finger worked Brock's hole through the thin singlet.
"OH YEAH, dude," Brock cried. "First time in my life I don't mind bein' pinned. Keep workin' my hole, dude. But make it look like we're wrestlin', so Coach won't know. Shit, I gotta feel that donkey-dick o' yours up my ass when it's all soaped up later."
Chance was pure steel now, erect as possible at the thought of a lathery fuck with Brock in the showers. He kept up the ass-play while he worked Brock's pecs.
When they broke again, they were eyeing each other's sweating, panting, perfect bodies with pure lust. As the whistle for the last period sounded, both boys were of one mind: get on the mat again with Chance on top, his hard cock rubbing Brock's ass. They kept that up for about forty seconds. Coach, by this time, was hard and leaking, thanking the gods he had worn his jock today. His young wrestlers seemed better built every year, making his job that much tougher.
"Now there's just one thing I don't understand, bro," Chance panted, as the two sweaty studs lay next to each other after practice. "How they hell can we fool around in the shower?"
"Just chill here with me, dude, stretch or something, for about ten minutes. By the time we hit the shower room, everyone will be gone. Trust me, I've done this many times before."
Chance just whistled, then added, still a little short of breath, "Can't believe there's regular sex going on after wrestling practice."
Brock turned to him and grinned, "Shit, dude, don't exercise and rasslin' around with horny, good-lookin' guys get YOU all hot and bothered?"
"It sure does."
"Then why be surprised?"
"Why, indeed?" Chance grinned.
"OK, let's see you stretch those big honkin' muscles o' yours."
Chance and Brock slowly rose to go grab a towel from the equipment manager. As they walked back to the mat, Brock followed Chance's lead and folded his singlet down, so both boys could show each other their beautifully-worked upper bodies. Chance folded his down right to the start of his pubic hair. He looked up to see Brock's gaze riveted there and grinned to himself as he saw the material around Brock's groin rise slightly.
"Damn, you're so fucking sexy, dude," Brock said, throat dry and husky.
Chance sat back down, stretched his legs apart and started his cool down. Brock's eyes were like a laser-shot between Chance's legs. He waited a while before he started his stretching, as Chance's cut, flexing muscles and long, thick cock were too good a show to turn away from.
Reed came over to join them.
"Well, I'm gonna hit it, Chance. You want to come over tonight and see the pics and plan part 2 of the project?"
"Sure," Chance chirped, a little guilty still at what seemed like cheating on Reed. Reed, who could read Chance's mood perfectly, blithely said, "OK, man. Hey, have a good time this afternoon, OK?"
"Thanks!" Chance smiled at him. "What time tonight?"
"How about 6, and we order a pizza?"
"Cool. See ya then."
When Brock gave the nod, they both raced to their lockers. As he predicted the locker room had totally cleared out. Never had either boy undressed faster. Brock beat Chance into the showers; he turned a few on to get the room steamed up. In a few seconds, Chance's bare feet could be heard slapping on the concrete, as he approached. Brock let out an audible gasp as Chance's perfectly-muscled frame came into view. This object of some of his deepest fantasies this term, now naked here for him to pleasure and be pleasured by: it was dizzying. His eyes raked down the cut curves of Chance's beautiful, firm torso, stopping to focus on that long, thick, slightly curving cock, half-hard and waggling alluringly between his ripped, bulging quads as he walked through the shower-space towards him. They embraced immediately, cocks pressing into each other and their hands moved fast and hard over each other's firm, wet, young flesh. They kissed hungrily through the light steam, the jets of water from the showerheads sounding like the rush of each boy's heightened nerves. Brock pulled back to look at Chance, grabbing both their hard cocks together in one hand, to jack slowly.
"That feels mighty nice, dude," Chance sighed deeply.
The boys just admired each other's hard bodies as Brock continued to stroke the two of them. Brock loved the feel of the hard veins running all over Chance's shaft. He traced his fingertips over them lightly. And then, like a visual rhyme, he noticed the gorgeous veins running all along Chance's upper and lower arms. They were irresistibly lickable. Chance luxuriated in the sensation as Brock traced his tongue up and down one of his arms, ending up slurping around sexily in his arm pit, as he himself worked the older boy's ass. Damn, he was sure ready for his first male fuck. His cock felt good being rubbed next to Brock's, but it was gonna feel a lot better, he knew, pumping in and out of this dude's tight hole.
Brock brought his head out from Chance's pit, loving the feel of his ass being readied for that dick. He let Chance play around back there as he studied the younger stud. His gaze dwelt on Chance's hips - how the water ran down his massive chest and hard abs, to the cut creases of flesh on either side of his waist, running almost delicately over his hipbones, v'ing down towards that huge, now achingly stiff cock. God, was he a stud. They were both so heady with the thought of the sex to come, these ripe, lusty boys, like randy colts after their workout, pumped up and ready to shoot some seed.
"I been prayin' for something like this for weeks, bro," Brock moaned in heat.
"Well, prayer helps, my momma always said."
"Fuck," he cried in deep bodily pleasure, as Chance worked one hand over his cock and balls and another continued to roam over his hard ass-cheeks and up and down his crack, "let's get to it, stud! Fuck my ass, Chance! I gotta feel the best dick I ever seen all up in there."
Chance gently guided Brock against the shower well, rubbing his ass-cheeks sensually. He reached in, turned the older boy's face towards him, and gave him a steamy kiss.
"Fuck, I'm gonna enjoy this, fuckin' such a hot, built stud as you."
"Me too, dude. Come on, man, I can't wait. Throw me the best fuck you can."
With wet, soapy hands, Chance made sure Brock was open enough, then he guided his huge, twitching dick into the boy's hole. It slipped in slowly but surely, Brock stretching his ass and wiggling back to help it in.
"Goddamn, are you big. And so fucking hard, it feels like a baseball bat in there. Feed me more, dude, I fuckin' love gettin' reamed by a big-dicked muscle-stud like you!"
Chance, meanwhile, was ecstatic. He didn't want to tip his hand that this was his first fuck, but he was absolutely blown away by the sensation. Oh shit, had he suddenly found his favorite thing in the world to do or what? The tight sensation of Brock's warm wet hole on his dick was unbelievable. He was moving back and forth slowly, savoring this incredible rush.
"Harder, man, faster, deeper!" Brock cried. What a dick-hound, Chance laughed. OK, dude, you got it.
Chance was now about two-thirds in, but he grasped Brock's ass tightly and thrust hard.
"AW SHIT, YEAH!" Brock cried. "RAM ME, MAN!!"
Another hard thrust and Chance was all the way in. He nestled his balls and pubic patch right up against Brock's ass and kissed him on the back of the neck a few times, stroking Brock's rippling back.
"Deep enough for you stud?" he whispered.
"Oh damn, Chance! What a huge fucking cock you have! It is in-fucking-credible up there. Come on, man, ride me hard, I can take it. My ass has been dreamin' about a pounding from you since the first time I saw you naked."
"Well, let's make some dreams come true, then," and with that Chance used his powerful, athletic hips to fuck Brock fast and furious. Both boys began grunting in pure animal pleasure. Chance kept one hand on Brock's ass, with the other he began to jack the boy, whose own hands were bracing himself against the shower walls to stabilize against the onslaught of Chance's powerful thrusting.
"Oh yeah, man, fabulous. Jack that fuckin' jock-cock, dude!"
The assault kept up for another minute, punctuated by hard grunts from Chance and ecstatic cried from Brock. Finally Brock screamed he was cumming. The feel of that hot cream oozing out, bringing him the knowledge that his cocksmanship had gotten such a gorgeous hunk off, was enough to send Chance, too, over the edge.
"Dude, where'dyou want my spunk?" he panted.
"Fill my ass, man! Press tight and shoot yer big load!"
So Chance rammed deep and pumped an enormous load into Brock.
Exhausted, he just leaned against Brock till both boys got their bearings back. Then Chance scooped some cream out of Brock's ass and fed it to the older boy.
"Mmmm, oh yeah. Have some too, man. You earned it," Brock said as he gave a dollop to Chance. They continued scooping and slurping and giggling till Brock's ass was as empty as they could make it. Brock gave him a long, hard, cum-drenched kiss before he left the shower, the kind of kiss two hard, hungry young dudes give each other after a vigorous bout of athletic sex. When they broke the clench, Brock smiled, his beard-stubbled, cum-covered face breaking into a grin of sly delight.
"Dude, that was fucking awesome. I'd love to hook up a lot more like this if you're up for it."
"I think I can fit you in," Chance smiled back, still a little woozy.
They walked back to the lockers together, hands affectionately cupping each other's hard naked asses. Chance hung out nude by Brock's, talking with the older boy as he dressed.
"Seriously, dude, this has been my fantasy all term, stud," Brock said. "Never dreamed it would happen, though. Hell, a lot of guys on the team are gonna be jealous as hell of me."
"What?"
"Aw shit, dude, you gotta know, you're the hottest stud in the locker room. Fuck, man, the gay guys on the team, we all drool over you."
"Then why'nt any a-ya make a pass at me before?" Chance squinted at him.
"I don't really know, man. It's like makin' a pass at the Marlboro Man or somethin,' I guess - you feel like there's not only no chance but you're gonna get your ass kicked for askin'. Plus, we all thought you dated women. A couple guys saw you around campus with a chick."
"Oh that," Chance laughed, thinkin' of the months wasted on Andrea. "I was just seein' if I was bi."
"And?"
"Nope."
"Don't blame ya; body this good deserves the real deal when it comes to sex. Your like a champeen stallion that shouldn't be wasted in harness races."
"You want me to tell the other gays on the team about this?" Brock went on. "I'm kinda anxious for bragging rights to the first taste o' your dick. But I warn you, word of this gets around, you'll have more hot jock ass than you can handle."
"I don't know 'bout that, dude; I'm so horny most days, I'm thinkin' I could handle quite a bit," Chance laughed.
"Hung stud like you," and here Brock stroked that long thick tool lecherously, "why am I not surprised?"
'But sure, go ahead, kiss and tell. But say, who IS gay on the team, by the way?"
"Of the seniors, it's me and Alex; of the juniors, just Trey; the gay sophomores are Peter and Tor; and the freshmen who like dudes are Danny and you. And Coach, of course."
"Coach?" Chance was only half-surprised, as he remembered that erotic little bicep curl lesson earlier.
"Hell, yes. He's never made a pass at any of the wrestlers or anything, but a couple of us see him and his boyfriend all the time at the clubs downtown. He always smiles and winks, but never lets on at school. He's a real professional, you gotta respect that. But, fuck, I think he could have any stud on the team for the asking. His boyfriend is incredible. An ex-marine or something, like coach, only about ten years younger. He's probably only a couple years older than I am. Fucking gorgeous. Body as good as yours, I swear, maybe even better. Damn, would I like a three-way with those two some time."
"Jesus Fuck," was all Chance could say. The revelation of a very vibrant male sex underworld in the midst of what he knew to be daily life had his head swimming.
"OK, dude. I'll spread the word. Prepare to get more ass than a toilet seat."
"I'm stoked, man. The dudes you named are the best-lookin' guys on the team!"