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JOCKBOY
A line of drool trailed out of his open mouth. His eyes were hidden by his baseball cap.
The chains of the sling rattled loudly as the black guy with the big belly slammed repeatedly into his ass. Hump-me music growled in the background, and there was a kind of a spotlight on the sling, like he was a star in a nightclub instead of a bathhouse cumwhore.
His dick was hard, lying flat against his belly. It was a lot smaller than I'd imagined it would be. His body still looked good, but the muscles weren't as defined as I remembered, and he was heavier and softer around the middle.
In high school, Troy had been a Greek god . . . the perfect jock . . . star quarterback . . . the face and body I'd pictured in my head, night after night, as I jerked off. A decade later, he was just a bro-ish jockboy with a nice body.
The black guy started howling, and I could see his ass clench as he unloaded in jockboy's hole. Troy's head bobbled, and he worked his jaw like he was chewing the air, but otherwise he hardly seemed to notice.
Next in line was a skinny Indian twink. As soon as the black guy pulled out . . . leaving Troy's pussy gaping and dripping . . . the twink shoved in and started pumping away. I peered around the middle-aged frat boy in line in front of me, wanting a good view of the tight brown ass as it flexed and thrust. The twink had a good rhythm going. He seemed really into Troy's smooth white bubble butt.
Pedro came up and dropped a kiss on the back of my neck. I turned my head and kissed him on the lips as he gave my ass a squeeze. His fingertip teased my greasy hole.
"Hey Baby! I've got a guy wants to do the two of us together. Older guy. Polish. Seems nice. Big fat cock! You up for it?"
My dick jumped at the thought. I felt tempted but shook my head.
"Not right now, but I'll look for you as soon as I'm done."
"This guy must be some hot fuck for you to wait in line."
"I'll tell you later."
"Room 224. I'll take my time and hopefully you can join us."
He kissed me on the lips and headed off.
I had been a linebacker, second-string, useful to the team because my body was big and heavy, and I was smart on the field . . . but still dumb enough not to realize that playing high school football wasn't worth the concussions. Mostly the first-string players ignored me, and I just snuck looks at them in the locker room and tried to keep my head down.
At some point, maybe Troy noticed me looking, because he suddenly stopped ignoring me and started treating me like shit. He'd deliberately humiliate me in front of the team . . . calling me a fat fag, and a greaseball, and a fat greaseball fag. The rest of my teammates took their cue from him and made my life miserable. It lasted a couple of months before I quit the team. I wanted to quit school, but my parents wouldn't let me, thank God.
The twink grunted as he blew his load. He pulled out, slapped Troy's ass, and wandered off.
The frat boy in front of me looked like jockboy in twenty years or so . . . still handsome, a lot heavier, sort of frayed around the edges. He dropped to his knees and started slurping at Troy's gaping hole. He smacked his lips, stood up, and shoved his cock in.
He seemed a little unsteady . . . clutching at the chains, having trouble finding his rhythm. He let go and sagged down on top of Troy, wrapping his arms around him, sling and all. His hips started pumping harder now that he didn't need to keep his balance. Freed of the need to keep his balance, his hips started pumping harder.
Fratboy was going for the rough fuck, and jockboy seemed to like it. They were both grunting up a storm. Fratboy straightened up again, hands back on the chains. Troy groped for his own cock, stroking it as fratboy pumped even harder, but before Troy could cum, fratboy was groaning and shooting his load. He pulled out and nearly fell over before staggering away into the dark.
My turn.
I gave my dick a quick stroke, but it was already rock hard. I grabbed the chains and shoved my dick into Troy's dripping pussy.
It was warm and slick . . . not what you'd call tight, but it still felt pretty damn good . . . welcoming . . . telling my big fat cock, `Cum on in and make yourself at home!'
I started pumping, building up to a good rhythm. I leaned forward, my belly rubbing against Troy's hard dick.
Troy tilted his head back, peering up at me under the brim of his baseball cap. His pupils were huge, dilated so big I couldn't even see the color of his eyes. He stared up at me blankly, trying to focus, looking puzzled.
"Hey . . . don't I know you, bro?"
I thought about denying it, but . . . what's the point?
"Yeah. It's Eddie Mendez. We went to high school together."
The puzzled look intensified, then cleared suddenly.
"Beaner! It's Beaner!"
Troy had created the nickname and made sure it stuck, at least within the football team. I'd hated it, and I'd hated him for it.
"It's Eddie, not Beaner."
"How the fuck you doing, Beaner? Great to see you, bro!"
During this whole exchange, my big fat cock kept pumping in and out of his sloppy hole. It was feeling good . . . hot and wet and dragging on my dick. I loved the squelching sounds it made as the loads he'd taken oozed out, matting my pubes.
"Your cock feels fucking great, Beaner . . . Fuck! Who knew the Beaner had it in him!"
He was grinning up at me now, and he reached up and patted my cheek. I started fucking him harder, really pounding his ass, grabbing his shoulders so I could shove my dick in deep.
"Fuck, bro! Fucking fuck me!!"
His mouth was gaping open . . . more drool running down his jaw . . . his eyes were glazing over again. He scrabbled for the poppers, uncapped, and managed to take a big snort without pouring amyl up his nose. His eyes rolled back, and he squirmed in the sling, his jaw working, chewing on nothing.
"Fuuuuuuuuck!"
By this point I was pulling my dick all the way out and slamming it home, every inch, fucking the shit out of his lily-white butt. He was writhing around in the sling, more into this fuck than anything I'd watched for the last half hour. The idea that I was the best fuck he was getting today turned me on . . . and pushed me over the edge. I felt that tingling in my balls, and next thing I knew I was shooting gallons of cum deep in his jock ass.
"Fuck, Beaner, that was INSANE!"
His mouth was still hanging open, his jaw was still working, but he was smiling broadly, and his eyes managed to focus enough to look me in the face. He slurred only slightly when he said,
"Bro, we gotta hang out some time. I want me more of that!"
I looked at him. Really looked at him.
Hot body. Handsome face. Vacant eyes . . .
Hang out? Fuck him again?
Nah.
I gave him a half smile, pulled out, and left him there in the sling for whoever was in line behind me.
Off to room 224, where I spent the next couple of hours happily fucking, sucking, rimming and kissing with my boyfriend . . . and his newfound buddy, Witek.