Disclaimer: If you are not yet 18 years of age or if it is illegal to read materials of this kind where you live, then please stop now. This story contains descriptions of sexual activity between teenage boys and is for adult eyes only. The acts are consensual and are a result of their love or lust for one another. This story is completely fiction, and all descriptions and names are also made up. Any similarities are purely coincidental.
I would love to hear from you, so negative as well as positive feedback is always welcome. Please write: markwild082@yahoo.com
A note to the readers of Boys in Control:
This one has taken me longer than usual, but I'm afraid life intervened. I guess I can't say much except that I hope you really like it! Thank you to all the guys who wrote hoping I wasn't dead, haha. Happy Holidays, everybody, and I'll see you all next year!
Mark W.
This is for Conner, as usual, and the first part , especially, for Chaz.
Boys in Control, pt. 9
Training Day
Bart Corvino hopped off the bus, landed and looked around. Two girls waved "Baaaaart!" but he just rolled his eyes and kept on going. The morning was cool, which flushed his cheeks, and sunny, which lit up the oaks and the poplars. He looked around and dodged some kids who were fuckin' around with their gameboys; he cut on back to the playground to see if Matt was hanging or what. Jules and Rock Dog (whose name was Nelson) were cuttin' and doing whirlies, Larry was watching and jerking his head to the song that was in his headphones.
"Hey you guys!" he chirpped up brightly, dropping his pack to the ground. Jules high-fived him and Doggie grunted and Larry flashed him a peace sign. "What up bro?" "What up what up?" "Any you guys seen Matt?" Jules dismounted, flipping his board up and catching the roughened tip. He grinned at Doggie and wiggled his tongue between a couple fingers. Doggie grinned back and slapped his friend like he was impertinent. Bart just looked like they'd both gone crazy and Larry's head kept jerking. "You oughta take a quicker bus, bro. He's off with Slinky Whoreland." This was their current term of affection for Matthew's latest interest. "I think he walked her to class, BC." "Dude! He was touching her butt!" Bart looked intently at his pals and hated the little bitch. "Really?" he said and Larry bobbed his head in confirmation.
"Really, bro. We were hanging out until her bus pulled in. Then it was like we were friggin' Klingons. He even carried her books!" Rock Dog turned and ran his hands down over his baggy ass, twitching his hips like he was jailbait adjusting her little skirt. Jules winked broadly and started making little jerk-off motions, and Doggie flinched and fell back like his bud had squirted him square in the eye. "Damn," Bart said, and Jules held his fingers up to sniff 'em, and that made Dog go "Ewww..." and they grinned and both doubled over with laughter. "Okay, okay," the wrestler said, "I get the picture, you guys." He rolled his eyes and hitched his pack up and turned to walk away. "Hey!" Jules said. "What?" "Where you going?" "Dude, I gotta pee. I drank some cranberry juice at breakfast and it always goes right through me." "Cranberry juice?" Rock Dog looked harsh, but Bart was still backing away. "Yeah, bro. It's a dago thing. Cranberry juice and meatballs." Doggie accidentally flipped his bud his middle finger and Jules threw his taped-up skateboard down and started rocking on it. "Catch you guys in homeroom, k?" and Larry grinned and nodded.
The previous night when he got home Bart quickly took a shower, and even his mom could hardly believe his appetite at supper. "What'd you DO all afternoon?" One thing she was, was nosy. "We watched TV and played some games and talked with his brother and wrestled!" His brother looked up from his peas and carrots and said, "It isn't even season." "Whaddya know about it, ya moron? We wrestle to keep ourselves sharp!" "That's right," his dad said, messing Bart's hair. "Sports is a full-time job. That is"---he waved his fork for emphasis--"if you're really serious about it." "Well..." his mom said, "I just wish... you'd get some different friends. I know Matt's been through a lot---for a boy his age, but... I don't know..." "Mom, you know he's my bestest friend---" "Best friend," his brother corrected. "WhatEVER, butt-head," Bart shot back. "He's the best dude on our team." "That's right, honey," his dad agreed. "You should come to a meet sometimes. Sometimes a kid like Matt who's had to overcome some hardship... that just gives 'em a focus and edge they wouldn't otherwise have. Not too many kids his age have got the drive that he's got." He looked at his son significantly and passed the mashed potatoes.
"Look, I know it was a terrible blow, him losing his mother like that... But sad or not, sometimes I think he's just a little too wild..." "Wild? Ha!" his brother cut in. "You should see his brother! Half the school---including the seniors---think he's an S.O.B." "What. And the other half are female?" His dad laughed at his own joke. "Ben, dear, please try to watch your language," and the male Corvinos groaned. "Well, wild or not I'd rather Bart had friends that are into sports, than running around with a bunch of kids that drink and smoke and lie." "Yeah, mom," Bart said, mouth full of porkchop, "Ben's just jealous, is all." "I am NOT, you little twerp," and Bart stuck his tongue back at him.
"And beSIDES, Ben, just so you know, Parker's a very cool dude." Ben dodged a pea that Bart flicked cleanly right across the table. "Bart!" his mother yelled, upset, and his dad tried to look disapproving. "Sorry, mom," young Barto said, "but Ben's just bein' a jerk." "I am NOT, you little loser---" "Alright, alright, enough." His dad knew he needed to jump in now or face his wife for it later. "No throwing food at the table, young man. And Ben, watch your mouth, okay?" His sons both shrugged and their dad continued. "And as for the Nicholls boys... you both oughta think how YOU would feel if YOUR mom died of cancer..."
The word hung ugly over the table, taking the wind from their sails, and even their mother was quiet a minute, fussing with her salad. "Their dad's a good man, but it's gotta be tough, raising two boys alone. And as for being wild, well... even in THIS house, it's not like YOU two are angels..." "Amen to that," their mother said, breaking the ice a little, and that made Ben make the sign of the cross, and that made young Bart giggle. "All things considered I think that Matt and his brother are doing okay. There's worse things in life than for kids to be channeling their energy into sports." "Better than some dumb debating team," Bart said. "I SAID, that's ENOUGH. Just because you and your brother have different... kinds of interests... DOESN'T mean it's okay to go around making fun of each other..." "Okay, dad." "Okay, okay," Bart grudgingly agreed. "Just so they stay out of trouble is all," his mother threw in vaguely...
Now as he entered the school and ran up the stairs on the left-hand side, he remembered how after supper he'd lain in bed and drifted off, feeling Matt's weight on top of his chest, and his pits and the bulge of his boner...
"...Aw, come on, just one little kiss. What's so wrong about that?" Matt leaned back against the lockers and tried to pull Cindy closer. She, however, was making him pay: he hadn't called ALL WEEKEND. Besides, some girls that she knew were nearby, and she knew how they loved to tattle. "NOTHING'S wrong," she flipped her hair, "I just don't think you're serious." "SERIOUS? Aw, come on, I told ya---I was busy as hell all weekend! Plus, you know, I think my dad listens in when I'm on the phone. And Parker'd laugh if he heard me say... I think you're really sweet..." He looked so cute when he said "as hell" that Cindy could almost forgive him. But then her flirtatious habits kicked in. "Sweeter than Kelli Simmons?" Matthew swallowed. "Kelli SIMMONS?" "I heard you kissed her Thursday night outside of Pizza Hut."
Matt had to think fast. "She made me do it. She had my Dr Pepper!" "Very funny, Matthew Nicholls..." "Besides, THAT metal-mouth?" Cindy knew that she'd hate herself later but giggled nonetheless, and Matt took advantage and grabbed her hand and pulled her a little closer. She heard some "ooooh"s and knew that Kelli would hate her in cafeteria, and tilted her head so Matt wouldn't see the pimple on her chin. She looked in his bright green eyes and saw the pout his lips were making; she heard some shrieks when Matt took his arm and slid it around her waist. He looked up over her shoulder with just the right touch of disdain, and pleaded one more time for a kiss---to help him get through algebra... Her hand went up and slowly rested on his muscled chest, and only because he adjusted her locket... his forearm touched her breast. They heard the bell go off which warned them ten minutes left till class, and the next thing she knew he had lifted her chin and---
"Hey Matt! What's going on?"
She jumped, then Matt jumped, then her girlfriends fussed and started laughing. Cindy nearly died and quickly pulled her hand away. "Holy crap, Bart! Can't you see I'm spending some time with my GIRL?" and Matt spoke loudly enough so she knew her girlfriends heard him too.
"Damn, I'm sorry, bro. It was just---I brought you that CD you wanted..."
"Holy crap, dude! Can't you see I'm friggin' BUSY here?" and tried but Cindy moved away, smoothing down her sweater.
Uh oh, Bart thought, now unsure if Matt were pissed or acting. Certainly Cindy seemed to know their moment had been broken, turning to her locker and pulling some books and notebooks from it. Matthew glared at his friend and anticlimactically kissed her cheek; Cindy pushed him away and coyly asked, "Will I see you at lunchtime?" "Sure!" Matt said. "I mean, if my friggin' bozo friends will let me!" Cindy giggled and flipped her hair and went to join her girlfriends.
Matt watched her tight little sexy ass then asked, "You happy, asshole?" He winked at the girls and picked up his pack and pushed down the hall to the boys' room. A couple boys were coming out and a group of guys were hanging. He saw some smoke from a cigarette drift out of an open window. Bart pushed behind him. "Jesus, Matt---I'm sorry---wait up, okay?" The boys who were hanging shuffled and moved aside when they saw Matt's face. He threw his pack on the floor and started combing his hair in the mirror; Bart caught up and looked at his friend like this was soooo unfair. "Gimme a break, huh? You told me you don't even LIKE her all that much!" Matt put his comb down and slammed his hand on the paper-towel dispenser.
The other boys whistled and made some comments, hoping a fight was coming, and that made Matt turn around and tell them to mind their own dumb friggin' business. One boy made some monkey sounds and another one belched real loudly; Matt was halfway at 'em before they whooped and the whole group bolted. They scattered left and right and hooted, shoving and grabbing each other; the pneumatic brakes on the doors only gradually muffled the sounds from the hallway. He turned around and Bart had his backpack open, rooting through it. His brown hair curled at the nape of his neck and suddenly Matt remembered... how Suzie Winters had said one night... that Bart was a total dreamboat. Suzie lived down the street from the Nicholls and had frizzy hair and freckles, and Bart had gone "Ewwww" when Matt had told him he had a Secret Admirer.
Now those little dreamy curls were pissing Matt off bad, but Bart turned around just a little too quickly---before Matt had time to yank them. "And anyway Jules and Doggie said that they saw you were touching her butt---so it's not like a major disaster you know if I messed up a kiss or something." "Listen you little friggin' fruit..." "Hey!" "You friggin' ... PITLICKER!" Bart jerked his head around quickly in case there were lame-asses hanging nearby, but even the dude who was smoking had left, and he and his friend were alone. "Watch your mouth, will ya?" "What?" Matt gloated. "Pretending it didn't happen? Pretending I didn't PIN your ass... and that you didn't LIKE IT?"
Bart started getting a little nervous and told Matt to keep his voice down. "Anyway," trying to change the subject, "here's that Green Day you wanted..." Matt stepped forward, glanced at the disc and said, "YOU'RE the American Idiot." Bart looked over at his friend. "Fine. Whatever, dude." He turned away and grabbed his pack and Matt spat "Fruitcake!" at him. Bart spun around like fuck this shit and Matt slapped the disc from his hand. The plastic case hit the floor, popped open, and the disc inside started rolling. They watched it wobble and wheel away along the tiled floor; it hit a post and rolled under a toilet-stall partition.
Bart's s "Jesus, Matt! What'd you have to fuckin' do that for?" "Just shut up you little fruit," Matt hissed and shoved his buddy. Bart staggered back and Matt went to grab him but Bart twisted deftly away. He bent down to pick up the CD case... and that's when his friend took advantage. He kneed Bart's hip and sent him crashing onto the tiled floor... and then, like they weren't even best friends or teammates, threw his weight right on him. His shoulder hit and he lost his breath and Matt grabbed his dreamy curls, and Bart yelped more from surprise than from hurt and tried to buck Matt off him. Lifting his weight up Matt moved his arm under Bart's exposed hip and the floor... and just like Parker had made him practice, quickly flipped Bart over. Their tshirts untucked and the boys started panting and Matt scrambled onto Bart's chest. The five-minute bell rang and outside they both heard the shuffling of feet to their classrooms.
"Alright, Matt. Got off, okay? Whatever I did, I'm sorry!" Matt looked down and grinned and bounced his weight on the other boy's ribcage. "We're gonna be late for class, you doofus," and Matt said, "Fuck that, asshole. You gotta start learning to give me some space when I'm putting the moves on the chicks, dude!" Suddenly, even while Matt was leaning and gloating down over his buddy, Bart looked up... and his nostrils flared, and picked up the scent of his teammate. For just a second his mind went blank, like current interrupted... then realized he was saying "huh?"... 'cause whatever Matt said he had missed it.
Matt looked down like he half-believed his friend was fucking with him, then his face broke into a grin. "I SAID, Did you see how she had her hands... all up against my chest?" "Uh..." Bart said. "I bet you DID. I bet that made you jealous!" "Did NOT!" "Did TOO, you little fruit!" ..."Come on, Matt---get OFF me!" Matt leaned up and grabbed Bart's wrists and pinned him even harder. "I bet you wished that YOU were the one who was feeling me up and not Cindy!" Bart tried to twist away under his buddy, but that just made Matt grab him tighter. He laughed like he did like when he was wrestling and felt his opponent falter. Bart, looking up, saw the vein in Matt's neck throbbing pulse-like from his exertion. It snaked like a little pale-blue ridge down his pink and flushed skin as he squinted.
Unlike Parker Matt's approach to things was more instinctive. He never had to wait for the snap of a football, or work as a unit... and knew how to whisper "You little bitch" in a rival's ear just to spook him. Now looking down he could feel in his muscles how Bart wasn't really struggling... like those stupid dudes from the Catholic school who thought Jesus was wrestling with them. Plus, it was always the same with Bart, as much as he'd swear and deny it: after a certain point there WASN'T... that extra grunt of effort.
What there WAS, he thought, looking down, was a dude who was making him wait. And his brown eyes and brown curls and delicate eyebrows were all the incitement Matt needed. He heard once again in his mind Parker's voice as he turned his damn coach into jelly, and that made his brain flash... and half of his blood, it seemed, rush to his hardening member. Fuck, it was good that he'd showered this morning, the way he was already sweating. In fact, looking down as he bounced on Bart's chest, he could see two or three little splotches... from where the sweat was soaking through... while he taught his friend a lesson.
Bart looked up just a second too late, and---bingo!---Matt knew that he had him, inching his crotch further up on his chest... even while he heard Bart protesting. "Damn, Matt, get real, huh? What's gotten inta ya? Feelin' you up!---make me barf, huh?" "I dunno, bro. Awful suspicious---the way you were interruptin'! And then, ya know... the way you been sniffin' my feet and... lemme remind ya? who was licking my friggin' pits out---JUST like a little faggot?" "Fuck you!" Bart wiggled and twisted like he was still trying to break free from his buddy, till Matt, losing patience, let go of Bart's wrist, looked down and just hauled off and slapped him...
Bart was stunned into total silence and Matt, reaching up, grabbed both wrists, and pinning them down with the strength of his hand, made the other one into a fist. Pulling his arm back he told him to shut up or else he was gonna get clobbered, and Bart lay there sniffling, his cheek turning red, knowing Matt Nicholls meant business. Matt pulled his hand back, unclenched it and felt with his fingers up under his tshirt, exposing his flat and wrestler's abs, digging up into his armpit. Pulling them out he sniffed them briefly, then held them down under Bart's nose. "Yeah, that's right. Get used to it, Pit-breath---you little freakin' homo..."
Lying there and looking up into Matt's wild eyes, Bart felt something crazy stirring, creeping up upon him. Matt still gripped his wrists and Bart breathed in like he directed, taking in the sweet wet scent of Matthew Nicholls' armpit. His eyes glazed over and when they cleared his friend was grinning broadly. "Yeah that's right, dude. Sniff my fingers. Smell my pit sweat, queer-face! Looks like Parker had you figured out right from the start, huh?..." Once again Matt moved his fingers underneath his tshirt, making sure he got them way up good where he was sweating. Something in the way Matt smirked made Bart forget to argue: on his back he lay there feeling more and more submissive... "Yeah that's right," Matt said again, "Sniff 'em like you mean it." Bart inhaled and flushed and... felt his pecker start to stiffen. Something in his buddy's scent was turning him all funny, just like Matthew's stinky feet... which should have made him gag... but didn't. "Open up, you little bitch," the wrestler said, still grinning, leaning down and watching as he made Bart suck his finger. Oh my god Bart blushed, because his dick was fully hard now. Oh my god, because his stomach went all weird and tingly.
Suddenly, without Matt's prompting, something broke inside him, and then his tngue was licking and his dreamy mouth was sucking. "Yeah that's right, dude, suck the sweat right off my fuckin' fingers! Looks like you're an even bigger bitch than Cindy Moreland!" Bart moaned just like Parker's coach had, moaned and, without thinking, licked between Matt's fingers, tasting salt and sweat, and swallowed. What would Doggie think, he thought, or Jules or Craig or Larry? seeing him on his back like this, Matt Nicholls' little faggot. He gagged and that made Matt laugh hard and ask Bart, "What's the matter? Parker says that fags like you get OFF on shit like this!"
He pulled his fingers out with a pop and wiped them on Bart's shirt; a little string of drool leaked out the corner of his mouth. Matt grinned down and lifted the hem of his tshirt to dab at his forehead, and when he did a little drop of sweat trickled into his navel. Bart couldn't help himself: Matt's skin was tanned and soooo inviting... His breathing made Matt's stomach rise and fall and the warm sweat glisten. He blushed cause he knew it was true, as he lay there, what Parker had figured out, and Matt bounced again on his chest for attention. "Yeah, you little cunt..." He freed Bart's wrists and smirked when the young boy lay there without struggling. "You BETTER behave, or I'm tellin' ya, bro, I might have ta fuckin' hit ya!"
Matt reached down and squeezed his friend's cheeks till he squeezed his mouth into an "O," and almost threatened him again---but something crazy happened. Bart wasn't acting pissed or scared or wriggling underneath him. Instead his eyes were fixed like glue to Matthew's lower torso---on the delicate line of his downy trail... that palely grew down from his navel. The room got so quiet that Matt could hear the dripping of one of the faucets. And then, to his surprise, Bart lifted his hand and brought it forward... like he was hypnotized and following someone else's orders. Matt couldn't hear it but inside Bart's head he kept hearing "cunt" over and over; he moaned and wet his finger in the little indentation. Matt sucked his breath in: the touch of Bart's finger made shivers go right through him, and Bart pulled his hand back and looked at the tip that was wet with his friend's perspiration.
Matt said "Fuuuuuck"... and Bart heard "cunt"... and took Bart's hand and moved it. He found the little "o" of his mouth and pushed the finger in it. "Come on, bro. Yeah, suck it. Yeah. You like that extra flavor? That's the taste of a real guy, cunt! FUCK!... we're just gettin' STARTED!...." Bart raised his eyes then and locked them with Matt's... who was staring down into his own; the grip of Matt's hand on his wrist was as strong as a champion wrestling hold. Matt's look made Bart's trusting heart start to beat faster, and bubbles fizz up in his stomach. He pulled his friend's hand forward onto his crotch and made Bart feel the bulge in his wranglers. "Yeah bitch, that's right.... Keep your fuckin' palm open, bitch! FUCK!!... while I screw your queer hand!"
A beautiful evil sexy grin spread over Matt's mouth and face. He humped his crotch into his friend's open palm... like it was a catcher's mitt... Bart felt his buddy's hot tool all hard and boned up through the denim. Both of them moaned, Matt from the rush of new power he suddenly felt... Bart from the feel of his buddy's cock... all stiff and hard beneath him. "Yeah bitch, yeah feel it, you fucker!"---Matt laughed---"You like how my dick feels, Corvino? Yeah bitch, come on---squeeze my dick like you mean it! Aww fuck... you're a natural, Bart!"
Matt swelled his chest out, showing his muscles taut underneath his tshirt; his nipples were hard, and made two little circles in the fabric. He reached down and undid his belt with a jerk, pulled back and unpopped his top button. He whipped down his zipper and opened his pants and Bart saw how Matt's dick stretched his briefs out. He blushed and his hand felt his buddy's hard cock stiff and hot in his Fruit of the Looms. "Yeah, Bart, come on, bro---fuck!! LOOK at me, bitch!... I'm leaking! You like that, faggot?" He laughed. "Save your breath, bro. I KNOW you do.... Parker SAID you would!" Matt watched his eyes flinch. "You're already HUNGRY... for all the juice I got... And that is A-okay with me, fag! You are ABOUT to find out!!"
Bart's mouth hung open, his eyes looked at Matt's as he reached out and felt the jock's boner. He moaned like a bitch when Matt grabbed at his wrist, and pushed his hand away... Matt stood and straddled his teammate and told him to go get the fuckin' CD, queer, and just for a second... Bart tried to remember... what Matt was talking about. Then he sat up, looked around, and slowly started to get to his feet. Matt pushed his leg out and kicked at his friend. "Stay on the fuckin' floor..." Bart swallowed hard and half scrambled half crawled to the stall where the CD had rolled. Matt walked behind him cupping his crotch and watching Bart's ass as it moved. Panting, Bart pushed at the door of the stall, pushed in and retrieved the CD. A few specks of dirt and some dusty pubes... clung to the shiny surface. He felt the door close and scrambled around, and Matt was leering at him, leaning back against the door, still cupping his throbbing hardon.
"Get over here, bitch," he ordered, and Bart slid over on his knees. Matt grabbed his dreamy curls and pulled and humped against his face. Bart felt the heat of Matt's teen cock burn into his face through the cotton, and the strong jock odor of Matt's damp crotch seeped into his brain with new meaning. Parker'd been right, of course: Bart WAS a fag---even Matt, looking down, could see THAT, now. He thrust and the tip of his awesome dick slid out through the flap of his briefs... and left a shiny line of juice along Bart's puffy cheek. Bart moaned low but Matt didn't hear him under his own "Hell yeah!" He grabbed Bart's curls and just by jerking him made him yelp like a bitch!... and pushed with the head of his throbbing cock... and took Bart's cherry mouth...
Bart felt his cheeks were like suddenly full... as Matt kept inserting his dick... over his tongue and pushing his lips out, as Matt pushed it wetly in. It caught in Bart's throat and the poor boy turned blue and his eyes filled with tears and he gagged. He looked up and Matt had his eyes narrowed down. "Take it, you fuckin' fag!..." Bart brought his hands up to give himself leverage, and rested them full on Matt's thighs. The feel of Matt's muscles... hard under his jeans... sent a jolt of new lust racing through him; his eyes went hazy and his stomach fell out two miles underneath him. He clawed up and grabbed at the waist of Matt's briefs and jerked them down off of his hips: Matt's leaking tool popped up out of his shorts... and splashed the fuck over Bart's lips.
Without even thinking Matt grabbed at his buddy, stepped forward, and spun them around. He laughed when Bart's head slid a little by accident... when the back of it hit the wall... and moved quickly, pinning the kneeling boy against the rickety door of the stall. Matt pushed his beautiful teenaged member up against Bart's face, thrilling with power, moving it back and forth across each cheek. "Aw yeah, fuck yeah---sniff my dick you homo! Fuck dude, holy shit!!---Look how BIG it's gettin!" Bart could barely hear him, the way Matt had jammed his face into his soft sweaty pubes... and made him open his mouth and lick at the shaft of his beautiful tool. Then Matt pulled backwards and grabbed at his rod and proceeded to dick-slap him hard. The young wrestler's cheeks were wet and puffy where Matt's dick leaked across them.
Suddenly with a last "You bitch!" Matt speared Bart's open mouth, sinking the length of his throbbing cock into his teammate's throat. Bart's head knocked against the wall as Matt pumped his shaft in and out... feeling the power you only get from working a faggot's mouth. "Aw yeah, holy fuck!---so THIS is what it's like!" Matt mumbled to himself, looking down. His chest swelled with vigor and lust as he watched himself sweating and taking control... fucking another young jock in the face like it was a pussy hole. "Aw fuck!" ---He thrust and watched Bart's face turn blue, and his eyes get all big and tear over... pounding Matt's thighs as his throat filled with cock and he couldn't breathe, and panicked.... "Aw fuck--holy shit!! LOOK at you, Bart!... You're suckin' my fuckin' prick NOW, huh? Do a good JOB... and maybe Parker'll... let you suck on HIS!" Bart gagged badly as Matt thrust in and pounded Matt's thighs like a madman; Matt pulled out and his throbbing cock was wet with spit. They could smell it. Bart gulped for air, and one of his hands moved down to squeeze at his crotch. He blushed cause a DUDE was fucking his mouth... and his dick was as hard as a rock...
Matt only gave him like two little seconds, though, hardly enough for air, before he resumed his double assault on Bart's abused mouth and ears. "Aw yeah... fuckin' take it---aw fuck, you bitch!" He laughed. "You fuckin' homo! Show me how MUCH of this fuckin' hard dick you can swallow, you little queer!" Matt had his cock buried deep in Bart's throat then, so Bart couldn't really talk back. He pounded Matt's legs with his hands till they hurt... and Matt just continued to laugh. After awhile the feel of Matt's muscles, though, started to make him feel hot. "Yeah, you like that NOW, I bet! I KNEW you were a fag!" Matt tensed---then grabbed Bart's ears and yelled, "Aww fuck!! I'm gonna cum! Gonna fuckin' blow my load... down your friggin' THROAT!" Bart couldn't even resist if he wanted: his face was so full of cock, pinned like a little bitch in a stall with a tougher dude's dick in his mouth.
Suddenly Matt yelled, "Aw fuck, holy SHIT!!" and the jolt hit him right in his stomach. For one brief half-second his dick turned to steel... and then just as wildly melted... He panted and yelled "Aw fuck yeah!" as his dick went off, forced in the back of Bart's throat. Bart felt the sticky goo wash down inside him; Matt looked and saw Bart sucking dick. The next couple shots filled the rest of Bart's mouth... all stuffed now with cock and jizz. Matt just kept pumping... till some of his white juice leaked out around Bart's tired lips; some of it pooled in his cute little dimple and some of it leaked down his chin. Matt held Bart's head with his hands real firm, and pinned him against the stall. He felt the boy's throat muscles flutter and felt the boy's tongue on his spasming tool. He gasped and Bart gagged again, totally choking on all the wet juice Matt was shooting. Matt pulled his dick out, it smeared on Bart's face while he gasped in for big sucks of air... And he swallowed the rest of Matt's cum like a good boy... but not good ENOUGH for Matt...
He lifted Bart's face up and scooped up the leftover cum on Bart's chin with his thumb. "Aw yeah, bitch, there ya go. Right off the finger, bro! Dude! You're a cocksucker now!" Matt laughed and waited till Bart licked the last of it, then laughed again when he burped. "Man, you are gonna be tasting my load for awhile, I fuckin' bet!" An oval of sweat stained the front of Matt's tshirt, his forehead was wet from exertion. His dick as he watched slowly softened and wilted, and lewdly hung down in Bart's face. "Now go on and kiss the friggin' head, you little homo bitch..." Bart looked up, and kissed like Matt commanded, right on the tip; the last pearly drops of Matt's jism glistened along his upper lip. Slowly their pulses returned back to normal, and Bart wiped his nose with his hand. His friend's cum was churning deep down in his stomach, he knelt on the floor like a queer. He already knew... for the rest of his life... Matt's load would be inside him.
Matt took a step back and zippered up. "Get up, you little bitch..." And Bart scrambled onto his feet so fast Matt grinned and made a fist. "Guess we know who's the jock NOW, don't we? Yeah, you fruit... you pit-lickin', cocksuckin' queer! Fuck that priss Cindy, too! Wait'll I tell her to suck or she's HISTORY! Ha!" He pointed and sniggered at Bart's tented crotch, at the dick he still gripped through his jeans. "Looks like that bitch has some STIFF competition!" He laughed at his verbal wit. Bart dropped his dick cold at being caught out, like his hand was in a wallet or purse... and that just made Matt go off into hysterics, and slam his fist into the door. "Jesus!" Bart jumped. "What'd you go and do THAT for?" Matt grinned. "Cause I'm happy, okay? It's not every day a dude gets to find out that his best friend's a cocksucker, eh?"
Matt got in Bart's face and poked his chest hard, to make his friggin' point. "And trust me you bitch... I don't plan on doing without it... any MORE!! Looks like I got me a personal cocksucker NOW, you little whore!" He flipped up the latch on the door, grabbed the disc and pushed out of the little stall. Bart lingered, watching him, tucking his shirt in, his stomach all weird and unsettled. "You gonna tell Doggie?" he finally asked. "Or Jason or anybody?" Matt picked the case up and popped the CD in. "Not if you friggin' behave!" Matt let his hand stroke the front of his crotch, then leered at his new little bitch. Bart felt his knees go all funny, and blushed, cause the taste of Matt's cum had been sweet... He walked over slowly, and Matt smiled broadly and slapped him on either cheek. "Your ass is grass, dude, if we get detention for being late for class!"
"You gonna tell Doggie?" he asked again. "Or Larry or anyone?" "Tell you what, DICK-BREATH"---that Matt was a clown, for sure---"why don't you plan on tomorrow...? hanging at my place after school... and we can TALK ABOUT IT!" Matt grabbed his awesome bulge again, and Bart couldn't help but look. He already knew that he'd have to sneak off to the restroom this morning to jerk...
Matt left the boys' room and Bart grabbed his backpack and followed the wrestler to class. They'd already said the dumb Pledge of Allegiance when Bart and he came through the door. "MISTER Corvino! MISTER Nicholls! How nice of you to attend!" Old lady Grady could suck his dick, too, but he said, "Bart got sick in the bathroom!" Someone groaned "Ewww..." and Miss Grady thought, well... he DID look a little pale... and asked the boy if he thought he needed a pass to visit the nurse. "Thanks. Not right now, I don't think," Bart said, slipping into his seat. Doggie shook his head and sent a spitball sailing at him. "Musta been the dago meatballs!" and Bart just glared back at him. Matt looked around like he'd just wrestled upward a weight class above him and won. Now that it turned out his friend was a fag... there had to be other ones...
Jim was so horny by two o'clock Monday they'd put him in jail if they knew. This morning he'd stood by his car in the lot and watched Parker jump down off the bus. His stomach had tingled cause Parker was wearing the jacket he'd worn Friday night. Parker had seen him and waved and then casually squeezed at the bulge of his crotch; Jim felt his own cock start to stiffen, stretching Parker's jock. All through health class and cafeteria he dreamed of that beautiful dick, of licking those muscled legs and lapping deep in the young jock's pits. Now in his office Jim thumbed through his playbook and cupped at his crotch with his hand. The showers still dripped from the previous class, the air was still warm from the steam. His stomach went warm when he looked up and saw Parker stroll into the gym.
The jock walked up to his coach's door and stuck in his head at Jim. "I only got a few minutes, Coach. You mind if I come in?" Jim nodded yeah and Parker quickly turned and locked the door. He pulled the cord and closed the blinds and Jim forgot the book... "I got a hall pass, so it's cool... but I need my jock back, Coach. I been commando all day and my nuts are ready for some support!" He walked to the desk and scratched his abs and scratched his tshirt up; Jim caught a golden glimpse of his trail and the leather flap of his belt. He moaned and leaned forward and tried to lick the patch of Parker's skin; Parker undid his belt and unzipped and smiled. "My jockstrap, bitch..."
Jim flushed all hot and scrambled to kick off his sneakers and lower his pants. His cock throbbed cause Parker would see how his tough coach had leaked in the pouch of his jock. The musky smell of their sweat combined to turn Jim's brain to mush; he took off the strap and stood there boned in front of the football jock. Parker lowered his pants and looked at his coach while he fondled his cock. Jim couldn't help it: he drooled at the sight of Parker's meaty shaft. Parker tucked it in and squeezed. "That's all till practice!" he laughed.
He leaned against the desk and watched while Jim pulled his pants back on. "God you must be horny, Coach! Your dick is leakin' bad!" He reached out and squeezed out the juice from Jim's cock, so Coach wouldn't leak when he sat, and Jim swallowed hard when he felt Parker's hand. The jock's fingers came away wet. He lifted those fingers and asked, "You my bitch, Coach?" and Jim felt his stomach contract. "Yeah, jock..." he muttered... aw fuck, I'm his bitch, he thought... serving that hand with his mouth... Parker made Jim suck each finger clean separately... then suck a couple together. Before he left he made Jim promise he wouldn't jack off just yet.
"And don't be a wuss today out there, Coach!" he grinned when he stood by the door. "Prob'ly better push us DEfense pretty hard, especially!" He winked. "You hear what I'm sayin', Coach? ...The harder you push the wetter this strap'll be... when it comes off..." He winked again, then left, and Jim had gazed hard at his muscular ass. Later, in the teachers' lounge, he swore he could pick up his scent: He sipped on a styrofoam cup of coffee while Laurel had chatted on... like the smell of his hair and skin had lingered, after the boy had gone...
ALL the jocks knew practice started at four: that meant suited and ready to GO. Jim strode around in some sweats and a tshirt; the late afternoon had grown cool. "COME on ya wussies! Aw HELL yeah Juan THAT'S the way! ----Tommy! Look left, man! He's open!!" All his boys sported stray jerseys and sweatshirts and old shorts and stained football pants. Jim had them grunting and stretching and squatting and humped their butts right down the field. Parker took Tyler out twice, wiped his forehead and still fucked with Tommy Martin. He squeezed his crotch lewdly when Tommy threw short, and asked if his sister had missed him? The other jocks laughed and when Tommy warmed up, and started connecting square, Parker slapped his back and butt and praised him. "Not bad!... for a queer!" Jim started tearing his hair out because the offensive line was shit! He ran up a sweat till his breath came in clouds and his tshirt was streaked at the pits... Hands on, his boys were all sweaty themselves, now, elbows were scuffed, blood was up. Parker jogged up once, and hung long enough so Jim got to huff up on his his sweat. He grinned like a cat 'cause his big hairy coach... was a little bitch now for his cock...
Even the one time that Parker fucked up and went down, he took his lumps; he flipped 'em the finger and spat when they told him to get on the fucking hump! Jim watched his perfect form as he ran, rolled out, darted in, cross-blocked... every grunt and thump of his muscled legs steam-heating his jock. The sun was so low through the goalposts it barely lit up his boys' panting breaths, all the soaked tshirts and jerseys and sweatshorts half clung to their calves and chests. Parker lay flat on his back for The Talk, with the rest of the winded jocks. Someone yelled, "Parker! Dude! What about Brees this year?" "Brees can suck my cock."
Jim would have laughed at their bluster and bullshit, but Coach had to set an example. He looked unimpressed and told Parker to "Chill, killer. Not in the NFL." The boys hammed and hooted and Jim yelled "Enough!! Get yer lazy butts UP and let's GO!!" and wouldn't slack off: "Guys!! Are we playin' FOOTball here?... or did you just show up for practice?" They muttered and jostled and cussed and joked rudely when Ben ripped the seat of his shorts out. Luke said, "You lard-ass" and Ben jumped his bones because Ben used to date Luke's new girlfriend. Jim let them scuffle a minute or two, till their faces were streaked with dirt. Parker stood watching them, grinning delightedly each time a punch hit home. Jim shook his head, checked his watch and then broke in and pulled the two boys apart. They panted and glared at each other and one of his boys went "Eeek-eeek!" like a monkey.
Jim spun around and caught Lindsey red-handed, his fingers still scratching his ribs. "Very funny, chimpanzee! ---And YOU, ya couple a hotheads!" He spun back on 'em. "Wish I could get that kind of friggin' energy on the FIELD! Jesus and Joseph! Fightin' your teammate over a piece a TAIL? Apparently you ain't worried about the Iron Men enough!" He spat. "It seems to me that you two... ATHLETES got your priorities punked! Play some damn football and WIN, dammit, fellas---the tail'll take care of itself!!" Richie sang ''pooooontangggg" and that made Juan laugh and then Parker made kissy sounds. Jim knew the practice was shot all to hell, now, and made the two teammates shake hands. "Unless, of course, you Muhammad Alis wanna watch yer buds play from the bench..." He lifted his tshirt and wiped at his forehead and Tommy's smooth stomach went funny.
"YOU!! Baboon boy!" Lindsey jumped, and the other jocks all laughed. "Since you looked so good on the field... just gimme two extra laps..." Jim blew his whistle and cut them all loose and they rag-assed it onto the track. "Parker!" he yelled. "Help me with the equipment?" and Tommy's hopes were dashed. The sun cut low through the tree limbs and threw long shadows across the field. The upper third of the scoreboard shimmered bright and red and gold. Parker moved along the field lines, grabbing balls and cones, knowing where Jim's eyes were every time he squatted down. Luci Rodriguez had just got her license, and pulled in to pick up her brother; she started talking to Parker and Juan had to fend off the filthy suggestions. "Luci!" Jim yelled. "You're looking too pretty today! You're distracting my boys!" She laughed and walked over to wait on the bleachers till Juan hustled back with his stuff.
Half of the boys were already dragging their whipped asses off to the lockers, when Parker finished up, stripped off his tshirt and hit the track. The last of the sun threw light and shadow over the curve of his pecs, and his hair was streaked with dirt and gold, and sweat ran down his back. His shorts were soaked, and clung like Saran Wrap over his calves and ass; every so often his hand would stray... and readjust his crotch. Jim tore his longing eyes away and walked back to the gym. "Last bus leaving in ten minutes, boys!" He clapped. "Come on---let's GO!"
Tommy was lingering, talking to Manny, looking at Coach while he dressed. Jim walked over and asked him how his throwing arm was feeling. "Never better, Coach," he grinned, and grrrrrr'd and started to flex. Manny got up and accidentally banged him against the lockers. "Come on, Arnold. We gotta get going. We're keeping my old man waiting." He grabbed his shit and they punched and shoved each other out the door. Jim walked over and checked Cal's blister to see that it wasn't infected; he went into his office, closed the door, sat down and waited...
He waited just outside the bathroom door while Danny showered, sniffing his sneakers and hearing the noises his cousin made inside. Sometimes Danny would hang out afterwards in just his boxers, and Jimmy would feel all fluttery trying hard not to look at his legs... He waited on a corner outside of a bar underage in college, till a car drove past or a muscled jock walked by and asked, "What sup?"... He waited on a bench outside a store where his wife was shopping, watching young couples go by with their babies... and sometimes the dad looked back... Now he heard a cough in the quiet outside and a locker opened. He pushed up out of his chair and walked to the door with rubber knees. Parker was panting, on the bench, his legs splayed out before him. He looked at Jim and grinned and said, "It looks like we're alone."
Jim couldn't help it, his cock rose up in full and hard erection, and he felt like he was twelve again, or twenty, or twenty-seven. Parker said, "Come here," and Jim walked over and stood before him. Parker narrowed his eyes, looked up and said, "We need to talk." Jim felt a terrible thrill like a punch had hit him in advance. Here comes the kiss-off, he thought. You blew it. You blew your fucking chance. "I wanna win a scholarship to play football at State. I need someone to train me good to make that happen, Coach."
Jim felt like he had just gotten reprieved, or they'd just let him out on parole. "I know you went to State yourself. You still know people there?" Jim exhaled. "A couple, yeah. But nobody important... Guys I've met at conferences and seminars and stuff.." "Guys you've fucked?" His grin was wicked. "Guys with big dicks, Coach?" "Yeah," Jim blushed, "a couple of 'em..." "Had 'em in your mouth?" "...Yeah," Jim whispered, watching Parker scratch his wet blond pits. "Had that mouth of yours around that other guy's hard cock?" Jim looked deep in Parker's eyes and swallowed. Parker said, "Let me know if you think I got a dirty mouth or something."
Jim heard him talk and the throb in his cock was so strong it was making him crazy. He tried hard to think and not just fall down and lick those muscled legs. "Talkin' dirty helps me relax, ya know..." Parker looked up and grinned. "Plus Miss Johnson says I gotta improve my verbal skills." So close to the boy Jim stood and breathed the odor of his sweat; a drop beaded right at the edge of his eyebrow, another one dropped on his shorts. "Well," he said, "I guess I still got time to make connections. More important... where can I find a coach to work me hard?" He smiled his whitest smile at Jim. "Who won't take none of my bullshit. Who'll bust my ass cause he'll look at me and know he's got hold of a champ."
He stood. "We know anyone like that? Who wants to get hold of a champ?" He reached down and scratched at the lump in his pants, then poked at his navel for lint. He lifted his sweaty finger up, and traced it over Jim's lips; and smiled when Coach moaned and opened his mouth, and let Parker push it in. Jim got all red like a blushing girl, his breath was short and ragged. "Someone who'll work me just as hard as I think he wants to take it?" Jim couldn't talk, cause Parker's fingers were working down into his throat; he gagged a little and Parker laughed and said, "Come on, Coach, fuck....." He held Jim's eyes with his own and Jim relaxed and Parker pushed, and felt his Coach's mouth all wet around the fingertips. A little leak of spit drooled out the corner of Jim's mouth; Parker scooped it up with his thumb and fed it back to him.
The jock looked down and saw the fuckin' tent his coach was making, pulled his fingers out and wiped them slowly on Jim's shirt. Jim moved his jaw and swallowed and asked, "You think you're special, doncha? Fuckin' punk! You think you got what it takes for college BALL?" Parker looked surprised for a second, then grinned at the spunk in Jim's voice. "Think cause I'm nuts for your fuckin' jock that makes you some kind of a CHAMP?" He started moving his hands around, like when he explained shit at practice. "Recruiters eat little hot-shit jocks like you for breakfast, Parker."
"Really, Coach?" he asked, all innocent. "Is that how it works at State? All those recruiters waitin' in line for a taste of the eggs and sausage?" He squeezed his crotch and Jim tried to huff but his breath died out in his throat. He watched the jock's strong fingers kneed the sweaty bulge of his crotch. "Well," Park laughed, "it IS the most important meal of the day..." He scratched. ---"So what I'm hearing is that I need a coach who's good---and hungry?" He reached out and squeezed through Jim's shirt at his nipple, and Jim felt his mouth go dry. "Tell me as much as you've watched me play---" he squeezed, "---I don't have what it takes..." Jim felt the strength in Parker's hand and knew his cock was leaking. He grunted as Parker applied more pressure, and took what the jock dished out.
"Yeah," Jim moaned, "you maybe got it..." Parker grinned. "You think?" He squeezed and felt Jim's nipples harden, felt his pecs tense up, watched Jim hurt and shiver and take it, the lump that grew big in his crotch. Jim clenched his fists and unclenched them and kept his arms hanging full down at his sides. "February... 5 AM," he grunted, "you gonna be up, running five?" "You bet." "Sunday morning, after the Prom. You gonna be out on the track?" Parker squeezed. "Fuck. After the Prom?" Jim spat. "All fuckin' talk..."
Parker let go and then took a step backward and Jim stood in front of him, panting. "Coach," he said, "I got control like you can only imagine... You think I'd let a piece of tail fuck up my fuckin' program?" "And no sneaking beer on the weekends, either..." Parker clutched himself, wounded. He plopped on the bench and grabbed hard at his throat, like he was an actor and dying. "Tell you what, though---when you win the Heisman? I'll spring for the French champagne."
Parker stopped dying and let his hands drop. "Is that a yes, then, Coach?" Jim felt his stomach pull up like it knew he was making a deal with the Devil. "I wasn't gonna suggest it myself... and put you on the spot." He let his fingers scratch under the waistband of his shorts; he watched Jim's eyes and said, "I bet we'd make a hella team." Showers dripped in the background. "Think of it, Coach. Just you and me, every cold-ass morning... And then those sessions on the weekends when I work you EXTRA hard..." He stopped and laughed and the actor came back. "I mean when you work ME... I'll tell all my new fans that you are the MAN, and I couldn'ta done it without ya..." Slowly his fingers moved under his waistband and slowly he lowered his shorts. He slipped them off and tossed them to Jim and sat there in just his jock. "And then if I'm good," he cupped his pouch, "and I don't disappoint you at practice... you'll have the fuckin' satisfaction of knowing you're eating the best..." Jim couldn't even moan: he held the shorts and time had stopped. "Damn I sweat... They're really wet, Coach. Right there at the crotch."
Like voodoo arms it was like Jim's own were suddenly possessed. Like Frankenstein hands they mashed the shorts against his flaring nose. He weakened and whimpered and throbbed and gave in again, huffing the damp of the crotch. He saw the young jockboy's cock start to get harder and sank on his knees to get close. He watched the stretched bulge of the pouch expand and start to tent obscenely. He lifted his eyes and locked them on Parker's brown and probing ones. The jock watched his coach's fingers stuff his shorts into his mouth. "Fuck yeah, Coach, aw, fuck. Yeah, chew 'em... Be my little bitch..."
Jim chewed real good and his mind-of-their-own hands crawled up Parker's muscled legs. He felt the blond hairs slide against his wet forearms and sucked for the salty sweat. Parker inhaled, too, and picked up the scent of his coach as his face glazed over. He smiled and pulled his spit-wet shorts real slowly from Jim's mouth. He tensed his cock and let it stiffen even fuckin' further. He slapped Jim's cheek then pinched it. "So we got a deal then, Coach?" Jim looked down on a bulge so big no highschool kid should have it; he heard the showers dripping, too. "Yeah, jock..." he mumbled, bested.
Parker leaned forward and put out his hand, and Jim reached up weakly and shook it. From his kneeling angle he glimpsed the wet in Parker's pits. "Cause let me tell you something, Coach, and you can laugh or what. I'm already aimin' for the fuckin' NFL." He tensed up his muscled thighs and Jim felt the power his hands were seeking. "Whaddya think, Coach. Wide receiver. You think these legs can do it?" Fuckin' packed into football pants, ploughin' down the field, the patch of calf, the... "Parker... please? Please let me sniff your jock..." Thirty-fucking-six years old, and on my knees like a bitch... Parker pulled him forward and down, "Yeah, Coach. We're starting just fine..."
Jim pressed his open, hungry mouth full up against Parker's jock. He greedily snuffed at the heady odor of sweat and piss and cock. His brain shut down and he didn't fight it; his cock throbbed 'cause he was a bitch. Parker just grunted and pushed further forward and told him to use his tongue. Jim did. He lapped at the long thick rod and saw the flesh of the cock through the mesh. Parker pushed his face down and told him not to forget his nuts.
Jim didn't. He nuzzled and licked and chewed till Parker's balls fell out of his jock. He leaned down lower to lick 'em and Parker massaged his muscled back. For five good minutes he ate the eggs, like any good recruiter; Parker pushed him away and said, "Now take my sneakers off." His nut slid out of Jim's mouth with a pop. They hung there, wet, and glistened. Jim's own crotch was soaked and he swallowed and fumbled with the laces. He slipped them off and got all hot when the sock-stink hit his nose. Jim bent down like a man entranced, or a slave, with cravings, hungry... He chewed on the wet rank cotton: Parker didn't have to tell him. Eventually, then, the socks came off. "Fuck yeah. You like that, Coach?" He did. He flushed. He fucking did. A toe depressed his tongue... Parker Nicholls' little bitch... after every cold-assed run...
Parker of course got a kick as always from watching Jim lick his sneaker, from watching his big hairy coach with his tongue out, licking real deep inside. But then like a champion jock he thought, Let's take this a little further. He told Jim to stand and strip and grinned at the way his cock was drooling. "Put your hands behind your back." Jim did as he was told. "Now let's see you spread your legs---wanna see what I got to work with..." It was like the jock's strong voice was wired directly to Jim's hips; he swallowed and started to swivel them slowly, just like a little bitch.
Parker's face was flushed, like ripened apples in his cheeks; he watched his coach's cock bob up and down, and watched it leak. He picked up his dirtier sneaker and laced it around Jim's dick and nuts; Jim oozed uncontrollably as Parker tied him off. Every time the jock's big hands brushed his dick as he fucked with the laces, his former pussy-fucking coach's cock got even harder. When he was done he leaned back on the bench and gave Jim's tool a slap. "Look at you, Coach! You got my sneaker hanging from your nuts!" Jim had a vision of Robbie walking in, and catching them...
"This is how it's gonna work, Coach." Parker's voice was soft. "At practice you are the MAN, the numero uno, the fuckin' BOSS... Workin' me hard as you fuckin' know how, right? Getting right up in my face. And afterwards, well... you do what I tell ya---and trust me, we'll both get off..." He poked Jim's cock again and watched his trainer as it swayed. "Look at me, Coach. Tell me---you had a better deal all day?" Jim arched the small of his back up against his hands, and spread his legs. Looking down he saw how his cock hung fat, and he bucked his hips. He moaned and tried to fuck the air, and Parker wet his lips. He reached out and tugged a few times on the laces. "Get on your knees again, bitch."
Without even thinking, betrayed by his body, Jim knelt down in front of the jock. No one before in his life had ever talked to him like that. His hands were still behind his back, his cock was hard and leaking, he wondered if this was how Parker treated the girls that he was fucking. He thought of them kneeling in someone's bedroom while Parker kicked back on the bed, calling them little sluts and making them beg to give him head. The thought made a shiver run all through his body, his cock got even harder; he wondered how many could handle a cock as long and thick as Parker's...
He must have zoned out, 'cause the jock had to snap his fingers to bring him back. "Now what I want is for you to get down there and put your mouth to work." It was like Jim's cock had ears of its own, the way it tensed and twitched, and he groaned when he looked and saw just how much precum was drooling from the tip. His brain overflowed with the smell of Parker's sweaty feet and jock, and capsized into the sexual sea of heat the boy put out. His knees scraped over the floor and the sneaker swung weighted from his crotch, his tongue came out of his cocksucking mouth as soon as it reached the pouch. Parker grunted, "Damn! You're like a doggie bitch in heat!... That's right... eat that jock real good, Coach. FUCK!!---that mouth feels swweeeeeet!..."
He grabbed Jim's head with his hands and wiped his face with the sweat-ripe jock. He laughed and watched Jim's hands start crawling up his calves and thighs. "Yeah, Coach, FEEL those pythons, man. Football player's legs!..." He stretched them out and teased his coach and made Jim feel them strain. He watched his hairy muscled coach start whimpering real bad, licking at the dirty jock like he was going mad. "That's right, Coach, now chew it, fucker, chew it off my cock," and Jim bent down and chewed until the fucking thing came off. A mix of spit and piss and sweat had overrun his mouth; he swallowed through the jock and felt the drool run down his throat. He pulled the jock off Parker's meat and slowly down his nuts. He moaned, wiped out, when the massive tool came free and sprang full up. It slapped against the jock's hard abs and smeared his golden skin. "Okay, Coach, you can spit it out now. It's time for my dick to go in."
Jim looked up dumbly and spit out the jock and his tied-off cock hung heavy; he took a deep breath and opened up his mouth and kneeled and waited. "Lick the head, Coach. Lick up all the juice that I've been leakin'... Gotta keep my trainer happy, right?" Jim moaned and did it. He lapped the head of Parker's cock like he had dreamed all weekend, like a junkie finally admitting his addiction. He opened up and took a couple inches of the shaft. "Yeah you little pussy, yeah... I knew you'd friggin' like that." He grabbed Jim's head again and pulled him slowly off his meat. He made him kiss it twice then pushed it back into his mouth.
He held Jim's head and started fucking slowly in and out; he nudged it with his foot and made his sneaker swing around. "Jesus, Coach, you got a mouth just like a fuckin' whore's! You keep that up and I might be tempted to FLUNK a fuckin' year!" He laughed and accidentally pushed his cock in really deep; Jim arched his lower back and gagged, impaled on Parker's meat. His eyes teared up... he tried to breathe through his nose... but his throat was blocked; his hands gripped Parker's legs to hold him up if he passed out.
Parker however knew just what he needed, and let Jim have some air. He waited while Jim stopped his panting then asked him, "Why don't you have a boy?" Jim couldn't answer, his throat was too raw and his lungs were too empty of air. "Seems to me a stud like you should have a friggin' stable. Unless you maybe... LIKE bein' on your knees?... an' takin' orders?...." Who does he fuckin' think he IS? Jim thought, but then it splintered. He looked at Parker's cock and knew exactly what he wanted... His nostrils flared and he smelled the dizzy smell of dick and sweat, his cock had leaked so much that even the laces around it were wet. Parker slapped his coach's cheek and pointed to his cock. Both of them knew that it was time for Parker to get off.
He leaned in slowly and ran his tongue back over the egg-shaped nuts, and cleaned them of the sweat that never it seemed stopped building up. He lapped them clean and then began to lick the thickened shaft, stopping every inch or so to worship Parker's flesh. He kissed and licked up to the head and nibbled on the glans; Parker started moaning softly. Jim reached up with his hand. He held his mouth against the crown and stroked the stud-boy's dick; and soon the player's juice was smeared all over his puffy lips. He opened his mouth and let it sink full halfway down the shaft, and blushed at just how... right it felt... his mouth filling up like that... He felt the jock's big hands move up and hold his head in place. Parker pistoned and grunted and started to fuck his coach's face.
Every six or seven thrusts he'd pull his cock half out; he'd let Jim almost breathe then push it back into his mouth. "Move your hips, you little bitch. Let's see that sneaker MOVE!" Little bitchy slurping sounds filled up the lockerroom. Parker moved right to the edge of the bench, so Jim could take all of his cock. He moaned like a little whore. "Come on, Coach, come on---open UP..." Inches and inches of Parker's cock slid into Pierson's throat, his fingers gripped the muscled thighs and something in him broke. His cock lurched up and Jim could feel that he had lost control, it strained against the laces and began to spray the floor. This made his throat constrict again around the cock he'd swallowed. Parker groaned "Aw FUCK" and gripped Jim's head and "FUUCCKK!!" ---exploded...
Creamy jets of pearly cum filled up Jim's pussy mouth; Parker swore and slammed the last inch in especially hard. Jim's back and ass arched up, his cock kept spewing everywhere, his lips were stretched and mashed into the jock's blond pubic hair. He swallowed and swallowed and moaned when Parker pulled his cock half out; the sneaker swang real good and Jim clung crazed to the head with his mouth. Tears and sweat ran down Jim's face, his throat was sore and battered, and he slumped against the jock's ripe crotch like a bitch who's just been mastered. His hands still gripped the muscled thighs, his throat was sore and stretched, his jaw went slack and Parker pulled his fat dick out all wet.
He wiped it firmly on Jim's face then made him clean it off; not much doubt in Parker's mind NOW who was the fuckin' boss. "You want some more, bitch?" Jim looked up and dumbly nodded yes. Parker laughed and let some piss splash onto Pierson's chest. Jim flinched a little but his cock throbbed again, and pulled the sneaker up. The smell of Parker's piss made him dizzy as it trickled down over his gut. "Whaddya think, Coach?" Parker stood up. "Am I a champ or what? If I'm not busy after the game you can have more Friday night." Jim nodded blankly and tried to lean in and kiss the sweaty meat. Parker snapped his fingers and stopped him and pointed to his feet. "Looks like I stepped in the cum you shot, Coach. Why don't you clean 'em off?"
Wiped out, unargumentative, Jim crouched before the jock. A drop of sweat or tear splashed down and Jim's tongue lapped it up. He cleaned each foot real good, he licked the sole and toes and arch, he brushed his cheek against the light blond hairs of Parker's calves. Finally Parker squatted down and messed his coach's hair. They heard a noise in the hall outside and remembered the janitors. "That was good, Coach. You are gonna be a first-class bitch. Now get to your office and let me shower so everything looks legit." "Parker..." "Friday night, if I'm not busy, after the game..." Ten minutes later he knocked on Jim's door, already showered and changed. He tossed his jock at Jim and winked. "You know what to do with it, right?" Jim let it hang from his mouth by the straps till Parker was out of sight.
A few streets away Tyler Adams bucked traffic and almost got run over. He'd waited for Parker and hidden when he saw the two were talking. Now he swerved and a car horn blared and he was a little sneak. His heart was racing, he stopped at a phone booth and dialed Alex's house. "Yeah, can I just stop by for a second? YES, I have some money." He tried to calm down and pretend that people weren't looking at him funny. His parents weren't arguing too much that night, he studied and went to bed early. He still saw his coach sucking Parker's fat cock when the sun woke him up in the morning.
to be continued...