MVP Prize

MVP Prize Bill Drake (billdrake@hotmail.com)

NOTICE: THE FOLLOWING IS FOR ADULTS ONLY. This story is describes water sports.

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MVP PRIZE

by Bill Drake

The season wasn't over, but the college football team had only the bowl game ahead. In another day or so, the players would be back on campus, getting ready with a workout and a final practice. For now, the university was quiet, dead quiet the day after Christmas, and on a dark winter evening the parking lot was empty except for a pick up truck and an SUV parked two spaces down.

"You're early," Kevin Fielding said to the quarterback, whose tall athletic body seemed bulkier now that he was bundled in his parka, shoulders hunched some to keep warm.

"Couldn't wait Coach," Brock Mullins said, his voice laughing some at how absurd he must look to the authority figure. "I've been thinking about this nonstop since Championships."

Coach Fielding nodded. He knew as much. The kid didn't even have to say. It had been in his eyes in that excited on-field celebration when they clinched the conference title. Mullins was a competitor through and through, but the incentive Coach had agreed to was every bit on his mind as much as winning the big prize.

He now fumbled with the key in the lock of the metal door to the field house. Their breath condensed in the cold night air and Kevin felt the quarterback's hand cup his meaty ass through the sweat pants.

"Not here, damnit," Coach hissed.

Brock pulled it back but was insufficiently chastised. "What, Coach? No one's around at this hour."

The man paused and looked at the jock. 22, dark haired, ruddy cheeked, handsome as fuck. Kevin had to get his head examined for carrying on an affair like this. But they don't grow quarterbacks like Mullins on trees, and they don't make young men so completely and effortlessly sexy like him either. "All right, Brock,"" he relented. "You earned the right to be a little naughty."

The QB shot him a surprised smile which turned into a leer as his wide hand went back to that muscular coach ass. When he'd started college, Brock considered himself bi, but this whirlwind thing with Coach had him realized he liked men. Real men. Older men.

Already those QB fingers were dipping beneath the waistband of Coach's sweats.

Rather than get a rebuke, Fielding exhaled an exited breath of air. He'd let Mullins call the shots WAY too much. But damnit those fingers felt nice, in their direct probing deep into Kevin's crack, and zeroing right on his hole, where Brock's index finger curled to taunt and play with the elastic assring.

"Fuck Coach... you have an amazing ass," the jock hissed quietly, maybe not worried about someone hearing, somehow. "Gonna miss this when I graduate."

"A good four months away, Mullins," Coach croaked. He liked to play gruff with the kid, but truth was he didn't know what he'd do once this stud went off to the greener pastures of the NFL.

"You're not getting romantic on me are ya, Coach?" the quarterback deflected.

Only then did Kevin notice a couple of gallon jugs next to his player's feet.

"Jesus, Brock!" he gasped.

The jock now blushed. "I just wanted to be prepared," he said, contritely. He read the look for pure fear in Coach Fielding's face. "Listen, we can call this off if you want."

Kevin gulped. "I never back away from a promise," he said. "You know that."

"Yeah, Coach," came the well-trained reply.

Fielding took another look at the jugs and shook his head before opening the door and ushering Brock inside.

The player flicked on the halls lights while Coach locked up behind them. If anyone came, they could make up a plausible story. And if it wasn't plausible, people in this college town would believe anything these guys said. They were practically heroes around these parts. Across the whole damn state, even. The championship had only cemented the hero worship.

From the back, Kevin couldn't help but admire the jock. Over the last year, something had clicked. Brock carried more muscle on his tall frame and just, well, walked like a professional jock. It had taken a lot of conversations and convincing during the quarterback's freshman and sophomore years to get him to take leg strength training as seriously as the linemen on the team, but by junior year Brock realized that was part of the game too, for strength and balance alike.

Now, Mullins had an incredible bubble ass in those paper-thin jogger sweats, clenching with each stride. It was a quarterback's ass to be sure, but fuck...

They hadn't talked about how this would go down. But this was Brock's fantasy, so Kevin let him guide this. It had all sounded so crazy back in October, when after a long, almost romantic session in Coach Fielding's bed, the older man promised he'd indulge his quarterback's kinkier side if they won the big title. And if they won the BCS championship, anything was on the menu. Anything.

Kevin Fielding wouldn't have to worry about the "anything" now. Even after the team's incredible season, the team would have to content themselves for being Conference champs. But what a hell of a rush it was. First time in over a decade. Not only would this make Coach Fielding's job secure, it would certainly help in salary negotiation.

But it was about more than the money. Kevin lived and breathed football. Got a hardon for success on the field, and had since he was a jock back in the day. He used to think he was a freak, getting sexually charged by a win, but it turns out he wasn't the only one. Hell, Mullins was right there with him.

They'd first fooled around - crossed that forbidden line between coach and player, authority figure and student - in this very shower. So it seemed fitting now that Brock was leading them back toward the shower entrance, setting down the jugs. They were gonna do this here. Brock's eyes were on his coach as they stripped down, just like they were suiting up for practice. It made Kevin feel like he was in college again, one of the guys, even if he had a bigger body now... more fit than beefy but still a middle aged body.

Objectively, Fielding knew he was a good looking masculine man. Thick head of dark hair, dark soulful eyes, trimmed beard, strong ex-jock build, masculine as fuck.

But Mullins was a Greek god of a jock, only thicker in his muscle than any ancient statue. NFL-sized muscle. Already Brock was peeling down those joggers, and Kevin's eyes widened to see that amazing long, thick bone stick up, horny as fuck.

Brocks smirked as he kicked off the sweats and faced the man. "Been holding off a few days, Coach," he said.

Fielding gulped. He always did, even a year and a half into their affair. It wasn't right that this golden boy was porn-star hung, but that QB cock was insanely long. When the kid was horny, which seemed practically all the time, Mullins neared the 10-inch mark. Not overly thick, but a regular-width, almost straight piece of jock meat.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Kevin hissed as he peeled down his sweatpants. He wasn't Mullins hung, but his thick tool looked right on his thick, hairy bod.

The athlete nodded and his prick jerked. But even as he acknowledged Coach Fielding's hesitation, he felt the urgency that this just might happen. "I delivered for ya, Coach," he said, simply. Football was a team sport, and the championship belonged to everyone, but Mullins was MVP and there was no doubt their success relied on his ability and natural leadership.

"Yeah," Kevin replied, folding his clothes in a neat pile on the locker room bench. "In the shower?" he asked.

Brock cocked a grin. He picked the jugs up and followed Kevin into the tiled area.

Coach still didn't know how this was going to go down, not exactly. He watched Brock set down the water jugs and turn back to face him. The man almost chickened out, but he'd promised this to his quarterback. Moreover, the athlete was clearly excited, and the look on Brock's face made Kevin want to give this experience to the jock. Not just endure it.

"God, you're so hot, Coach," Brock said as he stepped up to Kevin and wrapped his arms around the man's solid waist. Fielding had been a quarterback in college, too, but he was much shorter, 6 foot even to Brock's towering 6'6". Still, the jock pulled the man leaned down as he pulled his coach's naked body to him. They kissed, mouths parting and tongues connecting.

The make out session felt perfect to the older man, and he was so caught up in it that the first shot of warm liquid against his hair torso took him by surprise. He moaned into Brock's mouth as another jet of piss sprayed him.

"Fuck, this is so hot," the player gasped as he pulled back from the kiss. He looked down to see that thick coach muscle dripping with pale yellow drops.

Surprisingly it didn't freak Fielding out. It was just warm liquid and felt kind of pleasantly ticklish on his skin. "You holding back, Mullins?" he grinned.

Brock laughed. "It's hard to piss with a boner, Coach," he explained. "But fuck... my bladder is so full."

Kevin gulped. "Take your time, buddy."

The QB nodded. "I intend to. You're giving me my fantasy, Coach." He ran his hands up and down the older man's strong back, moving up his throwing hand to squeeze Fielding's meaty trap. "Why don't you kneel down?" he asked with clear need. "I'll get a towel for you."

Coach wished he was more turned on by this. But this was Mullins' show, his kinky fantasy. His dong was soft and thick, hanging between his hairy thighs as he knelt down on the folded towel Brock offered.

The jock meanwhile had lost only a little of his hardon. It stood out, not standing fully but long and menacing nonetheless. The slight loss of erection did the trick. The quarterback reached down and aimed his prick right at Coach Fielding's chest and let it rip.

"Jesus!" Kevin gasped as the hot spray hit his platelike chest muscle, the force making piss spray reach the bottom of his chin. He could smell it now, not acrid, but definitely salty urine.

It seemed to last an eternity, but in reality Brock's cock was bouncing up to full rigidity again. The spigot was turned off, and Kevin watched some stray drops of liquid fall from his player's cock tip. The kid really had an amazing dick.

"This is so frickin' hot," Mullins hissed as he looked down on this authority figure. He took a deep breath and added, "Close your eyes, Coach," he grunted.

"What?" Kevin asked. Not processing the request.

Brock's lust was making him impatient. "Come on, Coach. I won the fucking game. Close your eyes unless you want it to sting."

Nervous, Kevin did as asked. He clenched his eyelids tightly. Brock Mullins was a kinky fucker, more kinky than Fielding liked. But he could do this.

Brock held his monster dick and tightened his abdominal muscles to press down on his still very full bladder. The piss traveled through his urethra and shot out in a high arc that actually went well over Kevin Fielding's head until Brock pushed his prick down to hose down his coach from the forehead to the chin and back, before he unclenched his abs.

"Fuck!" the QB gasped. He'd fantasied about watersports, but this was hotter in real life even.

Kevin sensed the piss stop and opened his eyes, braving the quick sting before he refocused on his athlete. Brock had a look of excitement, but also surprise as his eyes were focused downward.

"You like this Coach," he said in in astonishment. "You're hard as a rock."

Kevin was still processing this. But Brock was right, his coach dick was very stiff between his thighs. The man felt used but in a good way, his body fur soaked with the first rounds of jock piss. It felt wild and taboo.

The man leaned up, showing off his boner to the kid. "Guess so, stud," he hissed. "Fuck!"

Brock smirked. He didn't give Coach any warning this time, but it wasn't a full piss, just a quick shot of urine he let loose. He didn't have careful aim but some splashed on Kevin's chin, briefly reaching his lips.

"Jesus," the man grunted. Leave it to his star player to show him some new tricks. He looked up at Brock, their eyes connecting in shared sexual excitement. Fielding felt more than a little ashamed and a lot vulnerable. But Brock's eyes told him that the kid was into this even more that Kevin was going along with it.

Maybe the thrilled look in those hazel eyes made Kevin open to it, but as he looked up, he opened his mouth and ran his tongue along his lips. Instantly, he could taste what Brock's piss was like.

"Damn, Coach," Brock hissed. "Merry fuckin' Christmas to me."

The coach laughed as he leaned back up. "Not as bad as I feared, Mullins," he admitted.

This was beyond a dream come true for Brock. With any other man, the piss play would be hot, but having THIS man open to it was a dream come true. "Plenty more where that came from Coach," the QB said.

"I bet," Kevin said then looking over the athlete's nude torso, he asked. "You still feeling full, Brock?"

The jock nodded. "I drank a lot of water on my way over."

The man's eyes went back to that massive dick. Hard, but losing just enough of its rigidity to let loose again. He took in a deep breath. It was now or never, he decided. "Just go easy," he warned as he leaned forward and latched his lips over the tip of Brock's dick.

"Oh shit!" Brock gasped. Then, "Oh yeah..." He felt the soft tap of the man's tongue. He'd experienced coach's oral skills a lot but this was different. The quarterback worried he was gonna get too hard quick, so he just let loose with a stream before his thumb and forefinger cut off the spigot.

Kevin Fielding's dick jerked in excitement at the first contact of Brock's piss on his tongue. It wasn't that it tasted good, just the opposite. But it was the forbidden nature of the act that turned Coach on. It was a crazy intimate experience. Maybe Kevin had a kinky streak too, because he swallowed the urine and pulled off with a hungry look.

"Damn, buddy," he said, his tone almost complaining. He was a little upset that Brock had showed him he liked this, at least if it was Mullins doing the pissing.

Brock was almost hyperventilating. THIS was hands down the hottest sex of his life. The only bad thing was the quarterback might have a hard time going back to vanilla. "God, you're really fucking in to this, Coach."

Kevin felt emboldened now. He didn't answer other than to lean back to latch his mouth over that dong once more.

Brock released his pinching grip and shot another spurt into Coach's gulping mouth. It took just a few seconds for the two men to get a rhythm going, Brock easing the release of just the amount of piss that Kevin swallowed in loud gulps, each swallow turning both men on more.

Finally the flow stopped and Brock stepped back, his hardon swaying. "Too fucking horny to piss," he explained.

"You got anywhere to be, Mullins?" Kevin asked. Surprising himself, but damnit he wanted more of Brock's piss. It was a headfuck that he was enjoying.

Brock laughed. "Nah, Coach. Glad you're up for a longer session. I did NOT expect this."

"Me either, kid," Fielding laughed. His brown eyes grew more serious. "You think less of me, Mullins?"

Brock shook his head. "The opposite, man. Fuck..." The athlete wished he had a bigger vocabulary, but the swear word captured his state of mind, horned up and his mind more than a little blown. He looked down on his kneeling coach. "You really up for this, Coach?"

Kevin gulped and nodded. He watched as Brock methodically picked up one of the jugs and undid the plastic lid, popping it open and tipping up the whole thing to his mouth. It was like Mullins was at football practice on a hot August day, the way the kid gulped it down. Not all in one go, but the Coach watched half of the jug disappear down the hatch before Brock pulled it back to take a break, then resumed chugging. The whole time, the athlete's cock was rock hard. No way was he pissing anytime soon, and both men seemed to know that when Brock finally set down the empty jug, his bladder making his lower belly swell a bit.

Piss or no, Fielding was back on that cock. Now bobbing up and down on the stick to give the kind of blow job that he knew Brock liked for longer sessions. Enough stimulation, enough pleasure, without tripping the kid's wires too quickly. The young man spread his legs and looked down on the coach fellating him.

"Can't wait to piss in your mouth again, Coach," he hissed, running his fingers in Kevin's hair, which was still damp from Brock's hosing. "Tell me we're gonna do more of this.... tell me this isn't the last time you're gonna drink my piss."

Kevin felt his heart pound. He realized this was driven by his desire for the golden boy was much as it was an innate love of watersports. But leave it to Brock to make him question that distinction. He spit out the prick and growled. "It's not going to be the last time I drink your piss."

Brock grinned and contracted his abs once more. A hard jet of pale yellow splashed right on Kevin's face.

"Fuck yes," Kevin growled. He was fucked up to get into this shit, but he now moved his head around, just as Brock was directing his stream all over from the thick hair to the mouth.

"Take it, Coach," Brock grunted. The spray stopped but as he watched Coach Fielding's mouth descend again, a beeline to that beautiful cock, Brock redoubled the pressure and pissed right into Coach's open mouth. Kevin let it pool in his mouth then gurgled it down.

Both seemed disappointed when the stream finally stopped.

"Need a break," Brock explained, apologizing. "Maybe you can suck me some."

Coach Fielding grinned. "Can definitely do that.... but you're more an ass man. Mullins."

That giant dick jerked. He knew what Coach was offering. "Yeah, I am."

Kevin had an impish look as he ran his mitt up and down that piss wet dong. "Championship MVP deserves a fuck."

"Shit..." Brock's voice was catching in his throat. The was a lot of things to navigate fooling around with his coach. Boundaries, respect... all the football stuff that could be thrown off balance by the sex. They'd tiptoes around a LOT the first year of their affair, but now had reached a good vibe. On the field or in the locker room, Coach Fielding called the shots, but in the sack, Kevin Fielding let his Golden Boy get his way.

"You got the stuff?" Brock asked. They'd experimented with a lot of lubes, and found a favorite.

"In my office," Kevin said. "You think you can take a break from the piss?"

Brock thought a half second. "I need to cum pretty bad, actually. I'm SO worked up right now."

"I can tell," Fielding grinned. He got up off the kneeling position and reached over to turn on the shower. He'd want a quick rinse so as not to get the remnants of Brock's piss everywhere. His player meanwhile strutted out of the shower, making his way back to Coach's office to set up. There was a spare mat they'd used to fuck before, mating right there on the floor of Coach Fielding's office.

The coach was a little contemplative as he turned off the shower. He was a little scared of himself and how out of control he'd gotten. Pissplay and fucking right here in the fieldhouse. But the naughtiness was a turn on.

No need to dry himself off, Kevin padded his way to his office, dripping on the linoleum-tiled floor on the back to the metal and glass door. He could lose his job over this, but somehow knew he wouldn't. Just as people wouldn't know Brock Mullins was a star athlete into other dudes and with a kinky side. The young man would probably make waves in the NFL and if luck and talent and hard work won out, he'd enter the pantheon of elite quarterbacks.

And if the jock ever needed a piss buddy, Kevin Fielding knew he'd take whatever booty call the younger stud made.

His big muscular body shook in that realization and he took another deep breath before opening his own office door and stepping inside.

Kevin Fielding's thick meat had softened some but the sight of his quarterback naked and erect, kneeling await for him on the wrestling-style mat laid out on his office floor, had him getting hard again. This is what a longer session with Brock Mullins was often like, hardons coming and going as the two men extended the sex.

Brock's eyes were hungry as they took in his coach's naked, damp body.

"Remind me to win a championship game more often," the jock quipped, coating his big hard dong with lube in slow steady strokes up and down.

Kevin's eyes went to a jar of coconut oil that he kept in his desk. Both men liked how the extra slickness that kept Brock in the saddle for longer. And Coach Fielding just enjoyed the greasy-slick look that somehow made the quarterback's endowment look even bigger, meatier.

"Fraid that's the last one... for college at least," the man said as he knelt down and scooted up to the player, the kneeling position making their height difference not quite as big. They kissed hungrily now.

"Hope you don't need a lot of foreplay, Coach," Brock hissed, pulling back and leaning down to scoop out some more semi-solid oil from the jar. It melted in his fingers as he reached back and leaned into reach the man's ass. "I'm so fucking horny."

"Ya got plenty of foreplay just now, Mullins. In liquid form." Fielding grunted, turning around to give Brock access. The kid had actually taken some coaching in this part of topping. The preparation, the timing, the ability to read his bottom. But Brock's fingers had now mastered the slow-fast one-two punch. Just enough seductiveness and just enough aggressiveness. Those long QB digits greased up the perimeter of Fielding's pucker then worked their way inside the man. It had been two weeks since his last shafting, courtesy of Brock, and his hole had just the right amount of give now.

Kevin hated this part of himself. The way he acted like a nympho bitch in Mullin's hands. The piss had just added to that feeling, and the way both were keyed up. Coach arched his back into Brock's smoother, muscular chest and felt that hand dig in deeper, three fingers now sawing in and out.

"Thanks for being there this year, Coach," Mullins whispered in Kevin's ear, licking the lobe softly between words. "Sexually," he added with a soft growl.

"Yah," Coach replied. He and Brock had talked about how they definitely weren't having a relationship. And they weren't. Maybe Mullins was always gonna put football before a real relationship. Coach imagined himself finding a more mutual relationship, being more of a top, even. That wasn't gonna happen with Mullins around.

Those fingers slid back out and Kevin felt a quick greasy slap on his hairy ass. "On your back, Coach," Brock hissed.

Kevin nodded. He was glad. Brock's favorite position was doggy, but the Coach really craved to see his player's face. Turns out the player was on the same wavelength.

Brock wasn't kidding, there wasn't going to be any foreplay. As soon as Fielding pulled his thighs back, the QB lined up and pushed in. "Too much, Coach?" he asked, concerned.

Fielding shook his head no. "Guess you got me worked up."

Brock smiled. "You like my piss don't ya?" he asked. Turned on to be even saying this out loud.

"God help me, kid," Coach replied. "I do."

Brock leveraged his hips up to push more of his dong inside. It was tight but not resisting. "I got more for you later, Coach... when my hardon goes down."

The man blushed hard. And his prick jerked off his hairy belly.

The long QB shaft entering him deeply only contributed to his aroused state. Brock paused, that prick head tapping at Fielding's inner ring. "Gonna let me in, Coach?"

"Jesus," Kevin grunted, pulling his legs further back and nodding up at Brock. Golden Boy incarnate, hot stud on the cusp of mega stardom. He'd be gone and Fielding would still be here, earning a lot of money and enjoying the recruiting boost that the title would bring. But none of the new recruits would be Brock Mullins.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Mullins was having fun teasing Fielding's inner tightness now, a smirk on his face. When they first started fooling around Coach thought a dick this big was too much to take. And for a while it was, until both top and bottom found a way to make it happen. Now Kevin Fielding learned how to do a deep clean and learned to love that deeper breaching.

"FUCK!" the man now cried in excitement as Mullins broke through. Whatever NFL player, coach, or agent was next in Mullin's sights was gonna get majorly cocked for sure.

"Yeah, Coach, take it," Brock hissed, the lust reappearing on his face as he started fucking. Normally the men liked a longer, slower session, but the watersports had worked the jock up into a heated state. Athletically, he pounded Fielding in long deep thrusts. "Take my fucking cock."

"Yes," Kevin growled, looking up into the kid's eyes. This is when his hesitation about being Brock Mullins' bitch went away. This was wild hot, sex, making Kevin's toes curl and his dick jerk and leak, untouched.

Brock had never felt a fuck like this. His bladder was full, unpleasantly full even as all that water had gone through his body. But he wanted to cum bad. Even with the slick coconut oil on his dong and greasing up coach's cunt, his fuse getting even shorter. The athlete fucked faster, eager to get his orgasm, almost solely so he could piss again.

"Yeah, go for it, buddy," Kevin urged. He loved watching Mullins orgasm. And once the jock busted, Kevin would stroke off for his own completion. For now, he held his legs tightly back and watched the young stud go for it.

Brock's face grew redder, almost pained. "AARgh," he cried. And then Coach Fielding watched, rapt and amazed as Brock pulled all the way out on the outstroke, that ten inch monster quivering and giving one solid jerk before the pissslit opened up.

It took Kevin a second to realize that Brock wasn't cumming. The spray was heavy and warm and liquid as Brock's piss soaked his whole upper body.

Brock let out a sigh of pleasurable relief and watched his urine fly, until he reached down to stop the flow. "Sorry, Coach," he grunted. "I couldn't stop that if I tried."

Kevin looked around. He was in a pool of Brock's piss, but it was clearer, more watery this time. It would be a mess to clean up, for sure, but the man felt alive and rock hard. "Glad you didn't, Mullins," the coach admitted with a blush.

"Yeah?" Brock asked, still unable to believe how much Fielding seemed into this. With a cocky grin, he briefly unclinched his prick and let another jet fly. Just a quick spurt that got a deep grown from both men.

"Fuck yes," Mullins said. Then with a quiet whisper he looked down and asked. "You want more, Coach?"

Fielding nodded. He let out a soft growl as he watched a trickle come out, landing on his pecs, then make its way up...

"Shit," Brock muttered as he watched Kevin open his mouth for the regulated stream, the piss forming a little pool in the man's mouth before he gulped it openly. The QB's cock jerked rock hard once more. Now that his bladder had been partially relieved and now that he was getting even more turned on, he knew he had maybe ten seconds left of pissing, fifteen tops, before the tap turned off.

His eyes locked on Kevin's, he pushed that mammoth prick down to its prior position. The coach could read the challenge in the jock's gaze and had an idea what he was going for.

"You earned it, buddy. MVP deserves a good piss..."

Brock gulped in lust. He had even less time to work with now, he know. Quickly, he nudged an inch of his QB prick inside Kevin's greased cunt and then relaxed his fingers at the base.

His tightening abs and bladder did the rest. Both men breathed heavily as Brock's warm piss filled Coach up, pulsing deep into the man's guts.

"Fuck!" Kevin growled. This was wild and that taboo excitement was getting to him now. And while tasting Brock Mullins' urine was bracing and even a little offputting, this felt weirdly pleasurable.

Especially now that Brock was fucking him. Pushing in on that spurting piss as his hardon sprayed the last bit.

Kevin was surprised by Brock's kiss. Ferocious and hunrgy, the QB practically bent the older man back, adding to the liquid pressure inside. Brock wasn't long dicking him now, but he didn't need to. Even five or six inches of that cock was enough to feel taken.

Besides, the player was finally cumming, unable to hold off another second. He humped excitedly into Coach's warm, piss-wet body and let loose with his first load of the night. Normally, Coach knew it wouldn't be the last, but this session was so intense so far, Brock might be done after.

So Kevin held on to his player and let him ride out that extended orgasm. Patting Brock paternally on the back, almost for a job well done.

Mullins was still coming down from the high when he broke the kiss and looked soulfully into Kevin's eyes. "Damn, Coach..."

"I smell like piss," Kevin said. "Sorry..."

Brock shook his head. "It's Ok. Kinda hot actually. Like I've marked my territory."

His meat was softening inside Fielding, who was feeling the effects of being filled with liquid. "Um, buddy... you gotta get up..." he warned.

It took the QB a second to realize what was going. "Oh yeah.. shit... yeah..." He quickly dismounted and watched Coach Fielding hurriedly get up and walk out toward the toilet stalls. Brock gave the man a few seconds, then got the energy to get up and go check on him.

He saw the man walking out, the toiled flushing behind him.

"You OK, Coach?" he asked. Maybe he'd gotten carried away. Strike that, he'd DEFINITELY gotten carried away.

Kevin laughed. "All good, buddy. You just piss like a race horse, is all." He patted Brock's upper arm playfully. "Shower up?"

"Yeah."

The two men soaped up. Brock grinned and Kevin watched the stream flow from the soft dong between his legs.

"Didn't think you had any left in you," Coach said in surprise.

Brock smiled, looking down at the piss stream hitting the shower tile. "Just a little. I have another jug to drink if you want."

Kevin gulped and shook his head. "I need a break, buddy. OK?"

Brock nodded. But he was gratified to see his Coach let loose with his own piss. All of Brock's that he'd drunk was now making his way through his body and coming out in a gushing stream.

"Fuck yeah, Coach. Go for it."

Fielding smiled and looked up. "You into getting some of on you?"

In his many fantasies, Brock Mullins was always the pisser, but he wanted to try it. He stepped up and enjoyed the warmth of Coach's piss hose him down beneath the shower spray.

They kissed and embraced as Brock gave up the last of his piss to join Kevin's release.

They laughed a little as they broke apart at last.

"Don't know why that feels so good," Kevin said as he began soaping his player's chest.

Brock thought for a second. "Maybe because we're not supposed to do it. Not supposed to enjoy it."

Maybe the kid was right. Kevin sighed as he felt Brock's strong hands on his own muscled chest. The cleanliness felt like the perfect antidote to their raunchy session.

"You didn't get off, Coach," Brock said as he circled behind the man, his body spooned behind Kevin's his hands soaping the man's hairy front.

Kevin shrugged. "It's MVP night," he laughed. "Tonight's about you."

Brock patted his chest. "How bout I stay with you tonight, Coach? I'll clean up here, and we can head back to your place."

"I'm all tapped out with the water sports tonight," Fielding warned. "But if you wanna try that in the future, I'm game." He was still embarrassed to admit it, but he knew he'd really enjoyed tonight. Brock Mullins had shown Kevin a new side to himself.

"You've already given me my dream, Coach," Brock hissed. He pulled the man back into his taller, soapy body. Holding him close. "How bout Coach calls the plays when we get to yours?"

Kevin leaned back into the stud's embrace. "I don't have as big a playbook as yours, kiddo."

The man felt soft lips against his temple. "Sometimes the old fashioned, simple plays are the most effective. Right?"

"We talking football?" Coach Fielding laughed.

But Brock played it straight. "I always am, Coach. 24/7. You know that." He pulled back and turned off his shower spigot.

Fielding got more than a little wistful seeing how long that soft dong hung between the QB's thighs, swaying as Mullins walked over to pick up a towel to wipe down.

"Give me 15 minutes and I'll have your office clean again. Like new."

"I'll help," Kevin started, but Brock interrupted him.

"I make the mess, I clean it, OK, Coach?" he said.

This wasn't the first time his star athlete had entered his bossy mode, but Kevin Fielding decided he liked it. He gave the jock a nod and turned back to wash off the soap and just enjoy the warm water cleaning him off.