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JV Football Indoctrination
I played high school football for one of the winningest schools in our Midwestern state. We almost always won our regional championship and several times we won our state championship. Much was written about our success. We were described as the most motivated team in the state on several occasions and our cohesiveness as far as teamwork was concerned was unsurpassed according to sports reporters. It was said that our winning habits were established in our junior varsity program and they carried through to our varsity team. It was said our coaches knew how to motivate young men. Well, I'm here to tell you that's true.
Everybody in our area knew about our high school team's success and I heard about it all through my years playing Pop Warner football. Everybody dreamed of playing for the Rams one day. I was fortunate; I was one of those boys who had the above-average athletic ability to make it, in my case as a wide receiver. I was invited to try out for the team after finishing eighth grade. I had heard some general rumors about a "secret" training technique for a couple of years. I also heard that the JV indoctrination was tough.
All incoming freshman prospects had to go through a two-week tryout that was extremely strenuous. We did wind sprints, push-ups, position drills, etc. in the hot summer sun most of the afternoon; after training the coaches critiqued our work in an after practice meeting. It was expected that all players would meet very high standards of behavior, including hygiene. All players, even those trying out, had to shower after practice. Now, one thing I noticed was how familiar the tenth grade JV veterans were with one another and, it seemed, with us rookies. There were all sorts of sexual comments in the locker room and in the showers evaluating the rookies' "equipment." There were also lascivious comments about various sexual acts that we rookies were going to have to submit to in order to make the team. I wanted to make the team. I went along with this hazing to prove that I could take it. I really didn't think that was more than a psychological test to weed out those who weren't tough enough to make the team.
After two weeks of tryouts the names of those that made the JV squad were posted outside of the coach's office – I had made it, my name, Jonathan Reynolds, was on the list! I couldn't wait to get practice on Monday to begin training.
Monday first thing was the coach's meeting for the rookies. This was going to be the "secret" training technique I'd heard so much about over the years. Our coach told us what was expected of us in our training and practice.
"Now you rookies have to understand discipline. You're going to be trained up just like every other player that's come through the Ram's system. You have to learn obedience and you have to do what you are told. Last year the sophomores were in your position and they were taught the secret to Ram football success by those who completed the program the year before. Now these young men are going to teach you. You will learn from them or you won't be a Ram. You will address them by their position and last name, they have earned it. We have as part of our training program a system of rewards. The top sophomore Player of the Day gets to choose one of you rookies for individual instruction. If you're smart you will learn your lessons and become a full-fledged Ram player. It is an honor to be chosen and you should be proud that you've been deemed worthy of the individual attention of an established Ram player. It is this sort of bonding, class to class, that ensures the winning tradition of Ram football. Alright men, let's hit the field."
I went out and gave it my all in full pads. At the end of practice I was a dripping, sweaty mess. We gathered at the end of practice and the coaches selected the sophomore Player of the Day – Clay Webster. Clay was a linebacker; six feet tall and a muscular 170 pounds.
"Okay, Clay, who is your rookie choice for special instruction?" The coach asked.
"I pick Jonathan Reynolds."
I couldn't believe it, he had picked me.
"Reynolds, where are you?"
"Here coach!"
"Follow Webster."
"Yes, sir!"
"Webster, Storage Room Two."
"Yes, coach."
"C'mon, rookie," the player of the day called to me.
"Yes, Linebacker Webster, Sir."
As I followed him into the locker room area I couldn't help the feeling of pride at having been selected as the first to receive special training.
We wound our way past the utility room that housed the plumbing for the showers and made our way to the very back of this section of our high school. Clay opened the door to Storage Room Two and motioned me inside. We circled around stacks of wrestling mats piled high and ended as far back as it was possible to go in the dimly lit storage area. There was a little area about ten feet square set aside with two chairs and next to them was a small metal filing cabinet.
"Take off your pads and throw them on the chair over there," Clay directed.
I took off my jersey and pads and Clay did the same; he peeled his t-shirt away from his sweaty torso and, after a moment's hesitation, I did the same.
"Okay, Reynolds, here's the deal – the success of Ram's football is based on three things, skill and effort, every other team has those more or less, but the third thing the Ram's elite players have is a desire to succeed that exceeds every other team. That is what makes the difference between the Ram's winning year after year and all the other losers."
"Yes, Linebacker Webster. I have the desire. I want to succeed," I replied enthusiastically.
"That's good, but the key to the Ram's winning is our training. Our secret is a training program that focuses the player's greatest desire and fuses it with the goal of fielding a winning team."
Linebacker Webster paused for a moment and then asked, "Are you ready to make commitment to become an elite Ram player?"
"Yes, Linebacker Webster, I'm ready."
"I don't want your final answer yet, Reynolds, hear me out," Clay explained, "The key to team play is total commitment, the willingness to do whatever it takes, the discipline and obedience. Only a select few are chosen for an elite position on the team. I chose you because I think you have what it takes, the coaches do too. Now I'm going to ask you a question and I want an honest answer – what's your greatest desire, Reynolds?"
"To be a Rams football player, Linebacker Webster!"
"Wrong, Reynolds!"
I was confused. I didn't know what to say.
"Your greatest desire, just like every other guy's in this school, is one thing; that one thing is sex."
My jaw dropped a little. Clay smiled.
"That's true isn't it?" Clay asked.
I had to agree.
"Yes, Linebacker Webster."
"Damn right it is!" Clay affirmed vociferously. "You see, Reynolds, this is the secret to the Ram's success. Our program fuses the greatest desire a guy has, sex, with football. It's perfect. What guy doesn't want to get his rocks off? We all do. What could be better than football practice? Football practice with sex. Does that make sense to you, Reynolds?"
"Yes, Linebacker Webster."
"Good!" the half naked fifteen-year-old agreed, "Now, Reynolds, each recruit is given the choice whether or not he wants to join the elite. You're only going to be asked once and you can say no if you want to, but if you want to move to the next level in Ram's football you have to be all in. You have to have the desire. You have to have the commitment. You have to prove it by your obedience. You have to do what is asked of you, anything that is asked of you, to prove you're willing to be a team player. So, Reynolds, I'm going to ask you if you're willing to make that commitment, if you're willing to do anything to become an elite Ram football player? Take a minute to think about it if you have to."
I really wanted to make the team. I really liked sex. But, I was confused. Did Clay mean that guys on the football team would have sex with other guys?
"Linebacker Webster," I asked hesitantly, "do you mean ... that guys have sex with other guys?"
"Reynolds, this isn't queer stuff. This is training. This is guys having fun with other guys. And, most importantly, it's about winning football," the sophomore explained.
It sounded reasonable to me.
"Well, Reynolds, are you in or out?"
I definitely wanted to be on the team.
"I'm in, Linebacker Webster!"
"That's what I wanted to hear! I knew you wanted to be on the team."
Linebacker Webster was fired up. I felt his enthusiasm. I couldn't wait.
"Okay, Reynolds, now we start training!"
I wondered what the first step was.
"Kneel down, Reynolds."
I did what I was told. I knelt down on the floor of Storage Room Two, still in my cleats and uniform pants, naked from the waist up. Linebacker Webster stepped up in front of me and started undoing the belt to his pants.
"Obedience and following directions without question are essential in training to be a Rams football player. First, you're going suck my cock, Reynolds. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Linebacker Webster, Sir."
I hadn't sucked another boy's penis since I turned twelve years old. Me and Tommy Higgins used to do it in the boy's room at school and in the woods after school when we were in the fifth grade. Neither of us could shoot yet.
The Ram's Player of the Day peeled the grass-stained pants from his sweaty hips, jerking and tugging them to mid thigh. A heady adolescent musk wafted through the dank storage room. I recognized it. At some primal level it was the smell of arousal and sex that I knew from my own fevered masturbation. I felt a rush of heat; my cock began to harden in my jock.
Linebacker Webster lowered his athletic supporter with his two thumbs in a sensuous slide. Out sprung a half hard teenage rod, climbing to erection above a plump scrotal sack, pubes darkened in their sweaty wetness. When I sucked Tommy Higgins we both had a boy's cock; short, stiff and hairless. Clay Webster's wasn't a boy's. It was a rigid, ramrod straight pole capped by a purple rimmed helmet of flesh.
"Suck it, Reynolds."
I leaned in and took his stiff erection in my hand. It was hot and wet. I tilted it down as far as I could, which wasn't far, and put the purple pink head in my mouth. It tasted tangy and very salty. The fifteen year old jock groaned with satisfaction.
"Uhngh ... That's it Reynolds, suck it good."
I went up and down a little and sucked the knob, about what I did with Tommy Higgins when I was eleven. I didn't know much about giving head.
"Use your tongue, Reynolds," the sophomore ordered.
I licked back and forth under the tip of the older boy's prick and that seemed to do the trick.
"Fuck yeah, Reynolds!"
I continued on with sucking, bobbing and licking, getting turned on by my team mate's obvious arousal. His excitement wasn't the only reason for my springing a wicked boner – the smell of his sweaty crotch seemed to send some sort of signal rushing from my nose, to my brain, and then down my spine.
"Get it good and wet, Reynolds," I was instructed, "Get your spit all over it."
I tried my best, but my mouth was a little dry from practice in the hot sun. It took nearly a minute to get the older boy's cock dripping with my saliva.
"Okay, that's enough rookie. Get up on your feet."
I got off my knees. My boner bent painfully to one side in my athletic supporter. I was slightly embarrassed when Linebacker Webster stepped aside and gave it a look. I don't know why I was embarrassed, as he was standing there with his pants down and a full blown hard on.
"Okay, Reynolds, now, unbuckle and slide your pants down," Clay directed.
I did what I was told. I quickly undid the belt buckle and slid my pants down the mid thigh exposing my jock. My curving boner, I have a distinct rightward curve, pressed painfully into the fabric-clad protective cup; its head threatening to pop loose from the edge of the elasticized cotton. I reached for my jockstrap.
"No, no, no little rookie. Leave that jockstrap right where it is. I want you to fill your pouch with your come when I fuck you."
"Y-y-yes, Linebacker Webster," I answered in obedient compliance, not fully comprehending what was said.
"Now turn around and go over and lean on those wrestling mats."
I shuffled over and put my hands on the spongy blue mats. They were stacked nearly three feet high and were the right height for what was to come.
"Let's see if we can get these down more."
Linebacker Webster came up from behind and tugged my football pants lower, but they got hung up because of the pads around my knees.
"That's as good as it's going to get," was the judgment of the older boy.
"Stick your ass up higher," I was instructed.
I heard Linebacker Webster spit on the fingers of his left hand and then he proceeded to slide two or three up the sweaty crack of my butt. I tensed for a moment, both at the sensation and the bold forthrightness of the older boy. Linebacker Webster slid around feeling for my virgin opening. As he found it, he forced the tips of a couple of his fingers in. They went in fairly easily; my anus was pretty loose from the heat and exertion of practice in the heat of the afternoon.
Clay pulled loose for a moment to spit on his fingers again. This time he stuck one, then two fingers in. I tried not to cry out, but I whined when he went past the second knuckle using double digits.
"Inhh ... Inhh ..."
Linebacker Webster pulled his fingers free.
"Okay, Reynolds, I am going to put my dick in now. It will hurt at first, but that will ease up in a minute or so."
"Yes, Sir."
I sensed my team mate step close. He spread my cheeks. I felt his glans slide to my sloppy rosebud. Clay adjusted the angle of his cock to center his rod. There was a building pressure and my ring began to yield. The head pushed in. There was a stinging pain all around the rim of my asshole. I cried out.
"Ahh! ... Uhhnh! ... Unnh."
"Take it, Reynolds," Linebacker Webster urged with a distinct huskiness to his voice, "Hang in there, you can do it."
Clay's cock was one of those that curved almost straight up and stood rigid as an iron bar. With almost no give, it entered at an angle that really hurt. I tried to reposition my ass to ease the burning pain, but it made no difference.
"Ohh! ... Please ... Innh! Innh!" I whined.
Linebacker Webster didn't stop, he inched his slobber-slick shaft in bit by bit. Despite the pain, the pressure of his rod in my rectum gave rise to a new sensation - a building wave of fullness that rushed to my balls and caused my cock to swell. Gritting my teeth, I groaned with the steady the intrusion. They were groans of lust.
"Nnhhh! ... Gnhh ... Ghh ..."
My anus spasmed reflexively from the entrance of my first cock; my thighs ached with exhaustion from their workout earlier. I alternately held my breath then gasped irregularly as the dominant boy took my ass. I panted with lust, biting my lower lip as Clay worked the entire length of his rod in to the hilt.
"You got it all, Reynolds," Linebacker Webster declared with a slight sense of admiration, "Are you gonna be able to take it, Reynolds?"
"Yes, s-s-sir. I c-can take it," I managed to respond despite the pain.
"I know you can, Reynolds. That's why chose you, rook'."
Linebacker Webster didn't waste any time. He began to pump my ass. He wasn't delicate.
"Innhh ... Innhh ... Innhh ..."
I couldn't help it, I moaned like a little boy as I got fucked. I tried to think of something else besides the pain, but I couldn't ignore his rigid tool intruding again and again. I felt the sophomore's rough pubes against my naked rear when he pushed forward and his slick thighs slid against mine.
"That's it, Reynolds. You can do it. Take it for the team."
"Ye–uhh ... Y-yes, Lineb-buh ... bu-acker Web-ster!"
The older boy fucked faster, turned on by my desperation. He wasn't the only one. Despite the pain in my hole, my own cock was steel hard. It hurt, wedged in my cup, but it was the hurt of rampant lust. I liked getting fucked in my ass.
We being teenagers, it was obvious that we wouldn't be able to control our animal appetites for very long. Linebacker Webster started to lose his restraint.
"Take that hog! Take that hog deep."
"Yes... Unnggh!"
"Yes what, rookie?"
"Yes ... uhhh ... Line ... Linebacker Webst ... uhhn ... er."
The horny sophomore pounded my ass. My legs were so tired from practice; I found it hard to push back against the thrusts of the older boy; my thighs and calves burned at the effort.
My thighs and calves weren't the only things burning. My stretched ring ached fiercely. The intensity of Clay's rigid rod pistoning my hot, creamy anus sent sizzling electric jolts into my tightened sack that caused my pubes to bristle under the wet straps of my jockstrap. My engorged bent cock was being crushed in the hard cup, the swollen glans pinched painfully below the clinging waistband.
"Are ... uhhh ... Are you ... uh ... almost there, Reynolds?" Clay gasped between thrusts.
"Yeah ... Uh ... Uhh ..."
"Okay, say it with me."
Say it with him? What was he talking about?
"Rams ... Uhh ... Rams-uh ... Football!"
Linebacker Webster pumped my ass in time with the chant.
"Say it. Rams ..."
"Rams ...," I repeated.
"Rams ... Uhhh ... Football!"
He thrust harder.
"Rams Foot ... Unnh ... b-b-ball ..." I groaned out, near coming.
"Rams Football Rook'!!" the sophomore linebacker shouted.
"Uh ... Uhh ... Ra ... ahh ... mzz ... Foo ... Foot ... Ball!"
I tried to concentrate on what Linebacker Webster wanted me to say, but the thick base of his rod pounding my hole had me ready to pass out. I couldn't hold back anymore. I came.
"Uhhnnggh!"
My groan, the spasms of my anus, the hot scent of athletic sweat, all drove Linebacker Webster over the top.
"Rams! Uhh! ... Rams! Uh-Uhh-Uhhh ... Raaahhmmzzz!"
With the last loud triumphant call, Linebacker Webster gave a final shove, jamming his rod deep in my ass.
"Unnggghh! FuuckRook!"
I could feel the jerks of his shaft against my stretched ring as he pumped the ropes of his hot load. I felt my shaft and glans, squeezed in the slime of my own oozings, twinge as my jizz soaked into the cottony cup of my jock.
We both panted and gasped for a full minute as we came down from our orgasms. Then Linebacker Webster abruptly slid his softening shaft from my ass. It made a noticeable splortch as it dropped free. I could feel some of the older boy's come run down my inner thigh. I stood up and tried to clamp my hole shut. It took two or three squeezes.
"Did you have a good workout today Reynolds?"
"Yes, Linebacker Webster."
"Good. Let's hit the showers rook'."
I became a member of the team. I had a few more special training sessions with Linebacker Webster. I also had a few special training sessions with some other members of the team. We bonded and we were motivated to have yet another Rams JV championship winning season.
When I became a sophomore, I motivated a freshman rookie or three just like I was motivated and just like Clay Webster and other elite members of the JV football squad had been motivated for years.
I now know what that smell was in Storage Room Two. It wasn't just the smell of sex, it was the smell of victory.
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