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< BREAKING BAKER MAYFIELD > < entry fifteen >
Charming his way through his very first NFL post-game press conference, Baker flashed his cheeky, toothy grin, played up his southern drawl here and there, allowing the press - many of whom were diehard Cleveland Browns fans ecstatic to have such a magnetic rookie quarterback leading the Browns to a season-opener victory - to lavish all the endlessly-enthusiastic attention upon him.
People didn't really question why the kid wasn't showered after the game, or cared why the rookie still wore his game jersey and stained white football pants as he bantered and chatted with the media. Affable, goofy and full of cocky swagger, Baker played the boyish alpha with sunny confidence and adorable exuberance. His knees - hidden by the expansive table cloth, however, were shaking nervously under the table, his bare, long toes flexing and flexing in his sliders... his hands trembling as he pulled his Browns cap lower and lower over his large, glistening and watery eyes as the press conference dragged on, and on, and on...
It was the game he'd dreamt of, his first NFL game... a home game no less... a winning game, no less. He wished he could've showered. He wished he didn't smell his own sweat, his own sex, his own dirty funk every time he drew a breath. To the media, it was an image of a champion quarterback in the making, fresh off the field, wasting no time to greet the hungry press.
But Baker could taste it, no matter how many bottles of water he emptied before and during the press conference. He could still taste it. The soiled quarterback could still taste Officer Kelly's cock... he could still feel the girth of Officer Kelly's cock as it swelled harder and harder in his mouth, his throat... he could still smell and taste Officer Kelly's cum... its thickness and tangy pungency, as gush after gush erupted down his mouth and opened throat - drowning him in true alpha cum - just minutes prior to the press conference.
Bare-assed and commando in those grass-stained pants, Baker's cock ached as it desperately swelled inside his locked cage, feeling his pathetic, confined cock throb unsuccessfully against the unrelenting stainless steel, his balls so blue and full and hot and boiling with fresh cum. Baker thought he'd lose it right there, praying his cock isn't still leaking. With every breath and deep inhale, sucking water out of that drained water bottle like it was Officer Kelly's veiny cock, the quarterback, between every word and every breath, feeling his empty hole and muscular ass cheeks clenching and nearly grinding on the plastic chair beneath, craved Officer Kelly's big, fat cock. With every question answered cleverly with that cheeky grin and a wink, Baker was breaking inside... desperately hoping Officer Kelly was still there after this charade was over... that Officer Kelly was still in that little bathroom next to the press room, still wanting to fuck him... to finish inside his hole like promised...
...
Officer Kelly caught Baker's eyes as Cleveland's new golden boy was ushered out of the electric, celebratory locker room, still dressed in his jersey and football pants but clad just in those Nike sliders and a sweaty cap. As the Browns media team guided the beaming quarterback down the long stadium corridor towards a room full of press and media, Officer Kelly caught a flash of horror and terror in Baker's eyes as the full entourage rushed through the double door the officer was holding open, watching the kid's fat, muscular glutes unmistakably clench in those tight, soiled football pants... getting a whiff of Baker's ripe, sweet and sweaty musk as he was prepped at the last minute by the media team.
...
Baker heard the door unlocking, quickly opening and shutting behind him.
"What...? What the fuck?!" Baker scrambled to pull up his jock strap and football pants, barely able to empty his bladder in time before the intrusion. Baker would've died of shame and humiliation if anyone saw him caged like that, his manhood compromised like that, his ability to properly cum, to orgasm, to seed...
Pissing became a task so humiliating and debilitating ever since that night... since that night of wild debauchery... since that night a week ago when that man locked his cock up in a stainless steel cage. It had been a week of absolute torture and hell. He had to lie to Emily, delaying her move to Cleveland; he lied, to family and friends, who were planning on visiting; lying, claiming their apartment wasn't ready... that he needed his space to focus on his NFL debut... lies... lies... more lies... Night after night, the confined athlete at the pinnacle of his youthful prime laid tossing and turning in bed, unable to cum and desperate to orgasm. Day after day, hour after hour, minutes, seconds... Baker felt his cock strain against that cage - unable to be fully erect but incapable of being flaccid either - his balls so swollen, so full, so blue... his hole, so devastatingly empty.
Officer Kelly locked the door immediately, his nostrils hit with the scent of a ripe boy... pure sex and sweat... and apples and honey and grass. The sounds of the door locking made Baker's hole quiver. His knees shook. His stomach turned.
"You fucking little pervert..." That deep, gruff voice. "Turn. Mayfield."
The officer could see the cocky alpha's boyish face - ready to cockily throw rank and power at whoever dared to interrupt his privacy - suddenly drop... turn white... ghost white... at the sudden recognition of his abuser. The quarterback literally backed up against the wall, looking so scared, so small, so pathetic as compared to the glorious athletic feat he was able to deliver just 30 minutes prior on the field as he pathetically stuffed himself back inside those grass-stained football pants.
Baker immediately felt the steel tightness caged around his hardening cock, hurting him. His balls churned hot. No... no... no...!
"You want cock, little pervert?"
"(I... I...)" Baker flushed beet red. He knew the officer had spotted that cock cage on him.
"Come on, faggot... you want this big cock?" The trembling quarterback was practically drooling.
"(I... I... just...)" Baker's wet eyes widened when he saw Officer Kelly unzip his trousers, letting that 11-inch, veiny, beer-can width ginger cock flop out. Baker involuntarily licked and bit his lower lip. He could feel the cum boiling in his balls... his bare toes wriggling in those sliders. Ever since getting caged, every little thing turned Baker on at 500% stimulation. The quarterback's cock hurt so hard against its confines... his hole quivering. "(I... I... I can't!)"
"Touch it." Officer Kelly grunted as he spit down on his own throbbing cock. "Touch it, faggot."
Baker was in a trance as he fell to his knees, flipping his sweaty cap backwards as his knees hit the floor. He was practically drooling. Faint traces of voices next door in the packed press room filtered in sporadically, snapping the quarterback back to reality, finding himself already gagging and getting skull-fucked mercilessly.
("UGHNN! UGHNNN! GUHNNN!!)" Tears were trickling down Baker's rosy, crimson cheeks, feeling Officer Kelly's large hands behind his capped head and the massive cock ramming brutally down his throat over and over again as his abuser whispered:
"You fuckin' faggot. You want this up your cunt don't you, slut? You want it up your cunt you little pervert? You and your useless little man clit, faggot. You put that cage on yourself, little whore? Open up, pussy boy. Open up. Open that throat up... Show me how much you want cock in that pussy cunt of yours..."
All Baker could muster between gasps for air and coughing and gagging fits were pathetic nods of Yes, YEs, YES. Before he knew what was happening, he was pinned against the door, feeling rough hands undoing his football pants and exposing his plump, jock-strapped ass. Baker felt Officer Kelly's rough hand grip his mouth before screaming out as he felt his hole and insides get split open by the officer's massive cock with nothing but spit and brute force. Sweat poured from every pore of the quarterback. Pre-cum immediately dribbled out of his caged cock, soaking the pouch of his black jockstrap as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.
"(UGHN! UGHNN! PLEASE! UGHNN! OH SHIT! FUCK! UGHNN! OH GOD! SHIT! UGHNNN!!!!!!)"
The overwhelming pain. The pleasure. The ultimate reward, the humiliation, the submission. The thrill... the shame. The week-long drought was finally coming to an end.
...
Baker didn't think he'd make it to his first NFL game a week ago. When he'd finally come to his senses after that night of getting his brains fucked out, when he sodomized himself on that butt plug and managed to cum despite being caged... after he rode that mind-blowing anal orgasm in that soiled hotel room for what felt like an eternity and after he finally snapped back to consciousness... after he found himself in his car, still wreaking of sex and ass and cum and sweat, his abused and worn hole clenching at nothing, his balls aching and empty, his manhood locked away pathetically, his long toes clawing at the edge of his Nike sliders, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel...
Screaming in the driver's seat early that morning in the hotel parking garage, Baker's body burned feverishly. Despite feeling completely spent, with every inch of his beefy, muscular body bruised and hurting from hours of sex and abuse, crusty from dried cum and spit and lord knows what else, the quarterback couldn't manage to drive away. He sat there, craving that butt plug in his gym bag in the back seat, feeling the never-subsiding wave of heat and hotness swirling beneath and around his sore balls. The pain of being caged, feeling his cock, forever turgid and red and hard, pressing against its sadistic confines... pulsating, throbbing. The heightened sensations were completely overwhelming. Devastatingly, debilitatingly overwhelming.
Before the quarterback could stop himself, he had climbed into the backseat of his car. He was crazed, high and feverish with lust... completely broken and insatiable... He couldn't help himself... the past hours, the past many, many hours of torment and torture and pleasure, weren't enough for the athlete and his depraved, perverse appetite. No, when Baker next realized what was happening, he'd kicked off his soiled sweatpants and was shoving that butt plug back inside himself with some spit and the remnants of cum inside his ass.
He couldn't help himself. His cock was leaking, his balls needed more release. With one bare foot planted against a window in the back seat, and the other pushing against the headrest on the passenger side, Baker fucked himself with that butt plug. Deep and hard. Sweat already poured from every pore of his torso and head, drenching his dirty hoody and baseball cap. He couldn't stop. He could feel that hot heat swirl from within himself, from his balls to his taint to his handicapped cock. Just once more... just once more...
Baker begged to himself as he whimpered, his sweaty toes straining against the window pane and curling around the head rest, spreading himself wider and winder in that back seat as he smelled his own ripeness, his own sex mixed with the saliva and semen of all the men who used and abused him earlier that night/morning... as he brutally assaulted his broken cunt with that massive butt plug.
The door to the backseat of his car getting flung open shook Baker to his depraved, horny core. It was a humiliating, awkward snap back to reality, when Baker felt the door and window his toes and foot were writhing and pushing against while he sodomized himself was suddenly not there anymore. The half-naked athlete was frozen with fear, his cock cage exposed for the first time to a stranger, with his beefy, muscular legs spread so wide in that backseat like a cheap whore, that thick butt plug lodged deep inside that worn, jock cunt. The quarterback swallowed hard, unable to muster any sound, as the old, hotel janitor's eyes ate him up and down from head to toe.
...
The boy's car smelled like a soiled locker room at a low-rate whorehouse. The old janitor couldn't tell if the kid was petrified or turned on by the sudden intrusion. Probably both. He looked scared as hell, but sexy as fuck... those meaty, long legs spread so wide, those full, full balls... a throbbing, oozing red cock desperate to force its way out of that stainless steel cage. Those red lips, the big brown, wet eyes under the brim of his stained cap... pleading, desperate, excited.
The kid bore a striking resemblance to Baker Mayfield under that baseball cap, but surely the rookie star quarterback would never be splayed out like this in a parking garage, wouldn't writhe in that back seat like a coked-out whore with a plug up his ass, wouldn't reach out with one foot to rub a stranger's crotch like that... Baker Mayfield would never continue to fuck himself with both hands on the base of that plug in front of a stranger in public... Baker Mayfield wouldn't moan and whimper like a little girl, never once losing eye contact with someone intruding upon his privacy... Baker Mayfield wouldn't dare pull out that greasy, cummy plug to reveal to anyone and everyone the most beautiful, wet man pussy the janitor had ever laid eyes on.
The kid was a freak.
Surely the real Baker Mayfield wouldn't be so brazen, so pathetically begging, so desperate for cock like this... dropping that heavy dull butt plug to the side, wrapping those muscular legs around a stranger and pulling him in between his legs. Surely the true Baker Mayfield wouldn't dare reach down and unzip a stranger's coveralls while deliberately placing a stranger's hand around his neck and throat... Surely the bona fide Baker Mayfield wouldn't stroke and pump a stranger's exposed, greasy cock, pointing the throbbing member at his opened, wet cunt with every stroke, grinding that beefy ass and body up against a stranger's raw cock, crying out with wetness and burning hunger in his eyes as that raw cock finally pushed past those swollen ass lips and when that rock-hard cock finally penetrated the shivering, trembling mound of beefy muscle.
...
It was so humiliating, so embarrassing. Baker couldn't believe what was happening. He was so flustered, so crazed and mortified... An out of body experience... the quarterback watched himself spread his legs even wider, revealing his wet cunt to the old man. He wanted to cry as he pulled that butt plug out of himself, feeling the man's crotch harden against his long, bare toes. Baker couldn't discern who was doing what to whom, but he remembered the cigarette breath on the old man, his skinny torso on top of his beefy, muscular one... the hungry lips and tongue invading his own, a hand tightening around his throat. Baker remembered the sensation of unzipping a stranger's coveralls, of the greasy hardness of an old man's hard cock in his hand as he felt dry, unshaven lips press against his own lush, red mouth.
It'd happened so fast the door to the backseat was never even closed. When that old man's raw cock entered Baker's cunt, the quarterback remembered the hot heat radiating from the old man's mediocre cock, as well as the feverish craze he felt when the painful intrusion subsided, leaving him with a fullness and shameful delight. Another calloused hand wrapped around his throat, choking him... hearing his own whimper when he felt the old man's spit splat against his rosy, sweaty face...
Baker remembered the revolting taste of the old man's breath, the boniness of his arms as he gripped them, the hardness of that cock starting to plow in and out of his hole with frenzied pace and erratic rhythm.
...
No. Baker dared not touch himself since that morning a week ago. The quarterback's car rocked wildly as the old man fucked the alpha jock boy's cunt. All Baker could see were his feet planted against the ceiling of his car, his cummy, stinky toes gripping the fabric of the ceiling as that old man pummeled into him, kissing him, tasting him, hurting him, choking him, violating him... stretching his already-broken hole open again, filling him, pleasuring him.
Baker had never felt so out of control, so exposed, so vulnerable... so depraved... in broad daylight in a hotel's parking garage. But he couldn't stop. He begged, pleaded, for another load. To get bred again, to hurt more, to feel more... to be full, to experience that unbearable orgasm, one compounded by humiliation, shame, agony and thrill. His voice was hoarse, dry... shrill... as he cried into the old janitor's mouth. More. Please... More...
No. Baker dared not touch himself again since that morning. He'd been fucked and abused past his baseline of discretion, getting fucked past any point of discernible caution or sensible decorum. He'd begged the old man to keep fucking him... he was so close... so close he could feel the cum in his balls boil and his balls swell... he could feel precum slowly oozing out of his caged cock... Anything. I'd do anything. Keep fucking me... please... keep fucking me... don't stop! Don't stop! DON'T STOP!!!!!!1
No. Baker dared not touch himself again since that morning. When the old man finally buckled and shot his rancid load deep inside the quarterback, Baker was nowhere near fulfilled. The sweaty, half-naked jock was left panting, moaning and shuddering uncontrollably with unfulfilled emptiness and hysterical shame.
Critically blue-balled and violently, desperately manic for more cock and cum, Baker sobbed and punched the back of the seats when he realized the old had zipped up and disappeared when other cars started driving by... feeling an emptiness leading to a hysterical tantrum that resulted in the quarterback shoving that butt plug right back inside himself. Not even bothering to shut the back seat door, Baker sat down on that plug and began riding it, fucking himself open again, wishing it was longer and fatter, wishing it were a real cock.
The car's window began to steam up as the jock fucked himself for seemingly an eternity as he moaned and whimpered to himself. Baker's inner thighs were coated cum leaking out from his hole as he slammed his entire body down on the one object that could potentially give him the pleasure he was desperately seeking. Maybe there'll be others... maybe the other cars would stop... maybe others will come...
The depraved and deranged quarterback slapped himself, choked himself, pinched his own nipples... but no... he couldn't find that high, that debilitating orgasm he'd felt just earlier that morning... he just couldn't cum... he was on the edge but he couldn't get there no matter how hard he rode that plug, how hard he choked himself... how hard he slapped and hurt himself... Baker felt completely impotent. He couldn't cum despite how painfully hard his cock struggled in that tiny cage. He couldn't orgasm despite how hard and brutal he assaulted his cummy cunt. He couldn't release the fullness of his swollen balls no matter how hard he hurt himself. Baker just couldn't. Broken.
...
It had been a week since that night... that morning... seven days to his NFL debut game. Baker couldn't believe how reckless he was, how blatantly shameless he was that night in the hotel room, that morning in the garage...
Everything aroused him. Everything he touched over those seven days caused him to burn with desire. His hole gaped and quivered and gaped, desperate for anything to fill it. The firmness of a steering wheel as he sped away, freshly bred but barely satiated. The firmness of a football in his hands. Getting tackled. Running. Doing drills. Bending over for the quarterback snap... His balls hurt so bad, so blue, so full... his cock constantly straining against the stainless steel cage. It was true wonder that Baker managed to perform as well as he did in practice and on the field, a miracle that he managed to bury his seeming-uncontrollable urges and thirst for sex despite his already-collapsed psyche and broken, alpha ego.
A week of pent up sexual desires... a week of blue balls, of white knuckles, of feeling his swelling cock strain against that cage seemingly every minute of the day, of his toes gripping the inside of his football cleats so tight they turned numb ... Baker was hanging on by a mere thread, literally shaking and trembling with desire and horniness whenever he had a second to himself... Wanting to watch back what had happened in that hotel room but daring not to... wanting to drive back to that hotel to park in that same spot to splay out in the back seat and wait for someone... anyone... to come rape him.
No, Baker dared not all week, but he couldn't fight his urges or contain himself in that anymore... Not with Officer Kelly. Not in that bathroom. He had no chance.
"(UGHN! UGHNN! UGHNNN!!!!!!!)" Baker's eyes rolled the the back of his head immediately. He could literally hear faint footsteps and voices from the other side of the door, the corridor leading into the room full of press and media. Swallowing every girlish whimper, every pathetic cry and moan and scream, the quarterback shed bitter, blissful tears as he got fucked against that door like a cheap whore in some dive bar. Officer Kelly rammed into him so hard, so fast, invading that tight jock hole with just spit and precum, as Baker gripped the frames around that door for dear life and prayed he wouldn't make a sound...
To be continued...
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