Peyton's Place Bill Drake (billdrake@hotmail.com)
WARNING: The following is gay erotic fiction explicitly depicting sexual acts between men. If that offends or disturbs you or is inappropriate for your age, read no further.
The story is a follow-up to the Post Season party, which itself was a spin-off of another (anonymous) author's "Quarterback Club" story. The contents are fantasy fiction and have no relation whatsoever to the real lives of the persons mentions.
For more of my stories, check out the Authors page of Nifty, or join my Yahoo group (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/drakestories/), where I hope to be posting a few extras. Comments to billdrake@hotmail.com.
Peyton's Place NFL Season Kickoff
Pt. 1
Drew Brees woke up in Peyton Manning's king-size bed. It was still dark in the room, but the rookie QB could tell a couple of pieces of prime NFL beef were sleeping in the same bed, right next to him. Fuck, he was practically sandwiched between the mass of football-hunk muscle lying on either side of him. The hot, moist skin and the hard pro-jock flesh felt fantastic against his own. None of it was Peyton's though. Brees could tell. The last couple of months, he and the Indianapolis Colt has been getting it on every possible opportunity. The muscle he felt in his hands was different and that cock nestled between his firm quarterback thighs was thicker, fatter than Peyton's.
Manning had agreed to host this month's QB Club party. Goddamn if last night wasn't an incredible, Brees thought as he reluctantly extricated himself from the tangle of pro hunk brawn. And last night was just the pre-party festivities as most of the men were expected to arrive today. Like many of the QB Club get togethers, the rules to this one were stretched to allow non-quarterback guests. Other NFL positions, former QBs, some of the hotter college players, a couple of the coaches, and even some baseball stars were expected to come to Manning's mini-mansion. Still, it was guaranteed that all the hottest quarterbacks in the league would be there.
Brees wondered who he slept with last night. After ten fucks or so he lost count of the men, plus the beer had gotten him really drunk after a month of strict conditioning. No matter, he thought, he knew that the two big dicked studs in Peyt's bed would be worth another go, whoever they were. But first he had to do something about the piss hardon that reminded the young QB of his overfull bladder. Stumbling, not fully awake, he made his way to the master bathroom.
Aiming his aching hard cock down to the toilet bowl, he let loose with a powerful stream of beer piss while he threw his head back and let his body come slowly back into consciousness. It felt good to let it all out.
When he was done, he let go of his dick which sprung up in full morning hardness. Brees sauntered over in front of the mirror. He took a second to admire the fine musculature that his conditioning had put on him - firm, meaty bulges that rippled unencumbered by body fat. Hell, there was barely any hair on his smooth torso, the stud really looked like a Greek Adonis, only bigger. His chest and perfect abs were coated in dried sperm. White flaky splotches everywhere. Brees didn't know if the seed was his own or not. God, he got fucked good and plenty last night. Drew had looked forward to joining the NFL and becoming a full-fledged member of the QB Club (his talents on and off the field had long gained him an honorary college-player membership). He expected that when he joined, he'd stop being the bottom boy for the randy QBs in the league and start topping the butch pro stars he'd fantasized about since his high school days.
Somehow it hadn't worked out that way. So far stud after stud seemed eager to conquer the rookie's ass. And over the last couple months, Manning didn't have to do anything more than flash Brees that hot boy-next-door smile and Drew would spread his legs for his mega-jock fuckbuddy. Why argue, he thought, when my nuts are getting drained like never before?
Right now he wanted nothing more to wash off the fuck grime that clung to his skin. He stepped into Peyton's giant shower and let the steam and hot water envelop him. He closed his eyes and his cock surged at the memory of the last time Peyton screwed him in the shower. Where was Peyton anyway? Brees wondered.
"Good idea, stud," a voice intoned behind him. It was Ed McCaffrey, wide-receiver for the Denver Broncos. "Mind if I join you?"
The San Diego Charger jock-hunk turned his head around and took in the beautiful sight of McCaffrey's tall, sinewy 6'5" frame stepping into the steam of the shower. Not an ounce of fat, a perfectly sculpted piece of man. And what caught Drew's attention was a nine-inch half-hard club swinging between McCaffrey's legs.
"Fuck, Ed!" Brees growled. "That dick looks like it could do damage. How big does that fucker get anyway?"
Ed wrapped his brawny receiver arms around the young hunk. "Jesus, Brees, dontcha remember anything from last night? You must have had a go at my Bronco buster four or five times. Took turns with a couple of guys from the team. You couldn't get enough."
A crimson blush spread over Drew's cute jock face. He felt like a slut but he could barely remember anything after 10 PM. The last thing he recalled was Trent Dilfer sucking his cock while he watched Drew Bledsoe and Scott Covington going hot and heavy on Peyton's living room couch.
McCaffrey could read the embarrassment on Drew's face. He held the hot jock tight as his hands went down to explore the perfect, round buns. "Don't worry stud, Eddie knows how you feel. Been there myself. How bout I help you remember what we did?"
Instinctively, Drew nodded and reached down between his legs to feel the hard scepter of wide-receiver dick that throbbed in a now-erect state. It was like a fucking crowbar, hard, smooth and a good eleven inches in length.
The two men met in a hot, wet, sloppy kiss while each athlete used his strong hands to knead and explore the muscles on the other. "Mmmh, stud," Ed groaned between deep tongue probes, "why don't you get down and suck that hard baby?"
"UMMNGMMHHN!" was all Ed could hear as Brees sunk his hot QB throat on his wet, aching meat. This rookie was a grade-A cocksucker, the way he wrapped his lips around McCaffrey's Bronco buster was driving him wild. Still, Drew was unable to take more than seven or eight inches of cockflesh into his gullet. Hell, he wanted to deepthroat the magnificent prick standing proud between Ed's firm thighs. Wanted to make this man happy.
"Shit, stud," the older man muttered. "You were sucking better than that last night. Here, let me help you." With that he grabbed Brees' head in his hands and held it still as he skull-fucked his pro-ballplayer cock in and out of the kid's hot mouth. "Shit! That's more like it, buddy. Open up for daddy like you did last night. Yeah, getting all my rod down your tight throat, all fucking eleven inches of it."
While McCaffrey was having his way with Drew, his teammate QB Brian Griese walked into the master bathroom. Standing with his powerful legs apart and his hands on his hips, he pissed in a straight arc into the toilet while listening to the two studs get in on in the shower behind him. Fortunately he finished the job before his dick got too hard.
Ed looked over at Brian and soaked in the sight of the man's wonderful backside. Beefy, sculpted delts and lats, billowing down to a slim waist and a meaty jock butt that always drove McCaffrey mad with lust. Ever since Brian came to the pros the ex-Michigan star decided to become strictly top, but John Elway would still call him over to his house in the Denver suburbs and have the cocky jock on his back and legs in the air in no time. Not many guys could pass up a good ride on Elway's mega-hung fuckstick. Some nights, McCaffrey would get a call asking him if he'd like to come over and do double duty on Griese's upturned ass. Yeah, those nights alone were what made pro ball worth playing.
Just thinking about mounting that mountain of quarterback jockflesh had McCaffrey blowing his gasket in no time. With a loud yell, he mauled the flesh in Drew's thick shoulders and held his cock long and deep inside the kid's throat as his nuts gave up their hard-earned juice. Brees mumbled and grunted, his gullet full of cock as he swallowed every magnificent drop.
"Jesus, Ed." Brian said, stepping into the shower to join the two men. "You should go easy on the rookie. Don't want to wear out a good starter quarterback."
"Ah, the guy can take it. Fuck, he likes it, dontcha Brees?" he gently tousled Drew's dirty blonde hair that was dripping from the shower spray that cascaded over the three men's hard, naked bodies.
"Yessir," Brees replied. "But is that all we did last night, Ed? A suck job? I was kinda hoping..."
Ed smiled a huge, lusty grin looking down at this hot specimen of jockflesh on his knees in front of him. "Hoping what, kid? That your hot little bubblebutt got some of this McCaffrey meat riding it? Fuck, that's why we brought you back to Peyt's private bedroom, so we could take turns on your hot jock ass."
"Yeah," Griese interjected. "We don't know how you keep that hole so tight, but it's the best damn mancunt in the NFL, bar none."
Drew blushed in embarrassment and swelled in pride at the same time. He relished the thought of getting plowed again by Griese's large member. Ever since Brian had gone pro, he'd transformed from young jock-next-door to full-fledged, full-bodied NFL stud. Drew wished he could remember last night's fuckfest better. As it was, he had to content himself with the feel of Brian's hard cock gripped tightly in his hand. Brees began a slow stroke on that Bronco meat, getting it boned good and hard for what he really wanted. A full-on morning shower fuck.
Drew didn't ask. He turned his jock bod around to show Griese his sinewy backside and that perfect young-stud butt. With determination, he pried Griese's prick to a perpendicular level and ran the slick head deep in the cleft between his ass cheeks.
"Fuck, boy!" Brian hissed. "You have one hell of an ass."
"Take it, Brian," cried the young QB, his torso leaning forward into McCaffrey's tall frame and his legs spreading apart to center his pucker right at Brian's fat, horny dickhead.
"Oooh, yeah," the Bronco playcaller hissed as that fine sphincter opened up for his rod. Five inches of pro cock sunk effortlessly in. "Damn fine ass, McCaffrey," he said to his teammate.
"Hell, I know, Brian. The stud was meant to be fucked."
"Fucking right, Ed, the cunt was meant for NFL dick, and that's what it's gonna get." Griese pushed his hips forward, clenching his taut buttcheeks as four more inches piledrived their way past the kid's clenching asslips.
"Shit! Bone me, sir! Show this rookie cunt how a real pro fucks his boys." Brees was really working up into a frenzied sweat now. His shoulders battered against McCaffrey with each thrust, and he was hitting the man like it was a sacking dummy at practice. "Pound that hole. Make me feel your balls slapping my butt. Yeah, I can feel those babymakers now, so full of jizz. Waiting to fuck it all into me, aren't ya Brian?"
"Yeah, Brees, holding my nut so I can really enjoy this fuck. You're too good, stud. Ride that fucking Bronco cock!"
"Dick me Griese!"
"Oh, hot fuck! That tight hole's really working my bone, man. Gotta plug this butt more often stud. Maybe visit you in San Diego from time to time."
"Sounds hot, Bri... " Drew was shivering in a hot sexual sweat. Griese really knew how to work his young NFL snatch like nothing else. The quarterback's hands held onto Drew's hips while he sawed a large piece of valuable cock in and out of the stud's smooth rectum.
Brees was now slobbering in heat on McCaffrey's lean chest. The taller player pushed the other up so that their faces were next to one another.
"Having fun, kid?" Ed asked.
Panting, Brees answered in affirmative. "Yeah, man, this is incredible. Love that big dick, that hot heavy fuck. You Bronco boys are so fucking big."
"Shit, guy, you forgot about the boys still in Peyton's bed."
Brees stuttered in incomprehension, as well as from the wind getting knocked out of him by Brian's rough thrusts. The large QB fucker was now muttering a rant of slurred, crazed fuck talk as he pounded Drew's hole.
"Others?" Brees asked.
"Yeah, Brees. You really don't remember last night do ya?"
"No sir," the athlete said sheepishly.
McCaffrey pulled his body tight against Brees and wrapped his arms around both men, reaching back to grab Griese's thrusting ass. Damn, McCaffrey always loved feeling Brian's stud ass. His hard cock pressed insistently into Drew's, their chest muscles touched. The wide-receiver loved feeling the hard, smooth pec muscle rubbing his tits.
"Feel that?" Ed asked.
"Yeah. Fucking big dick." Brees began licking at Ed's handsome rugged face. The two men half-kissed while they talked, their tongues teasing each other.
"That's how you like them, don't you, Brees? Big Bronco cock."
"Yep, man, that thing's huge, bigger than Brian's even."
"Want it next?"
"Fuck yeah!"
"Gonna let Eddie take a ride?"
"Mmmh," Brees moaned into Ed's mouth while the two locked lips.
"Oh, man, I can tell you like the idea as much as I do. Only problem is Brian here knows how to last. He likes to settle into a fuck for the long haul. Isn't that right, Griese?"
"Sure as shit!" Brian grinned at Ed over the kid's shoulder. "Especially when the ass is this sweet. Gonna have to ride this one for a while."
"What do you think about showing Drew here our Double Bronco Bustin' special?"
"Yeah, bet he would love it. Let's get out of this shower and get this stud back into the bedroom."
"Fuckin' A!" Ed shouted as the two Broncos prepared stage two in Drew Brees' wake-up fuck.
The sunlight coming in through the living room window woke Tim Couch up. His hard muscles were slightly sore from last night's exertion. Fuck, if this hadn't been the best QB Club party Couch had been to yet. And they had a whole two more days of ballbusting fuck action to look forward to. Couch looked over to his fuck and suck buddies from the previous evening, Danny Wuerffel and Jake Plummer. The two muscled men were dozing soundly on the floor where they'd crashed after a late night screw. Couch admired their hard bodies, still tightly pressed together as the men's brawny arms wrapped around the other. A tempting sight for the Cleveland star, but Couch decided to let his buddies sleep. Besides there was a whole house of studly football meat to seek out. Excited by the thought, Couch got his burly-lean frame off the sofa and found his pair of Cleveland Browns mesh shorts. Slipping them on, he realized his fat hardon was pushing up hard on the waistband. With his passing hand, he tried to rearrange the thick slab of NFL dickmeat until he realized it was futile. "Fuck it," he thought, "Better to advertise your assets anyway." Groping his crotch he wondered where Peyton was, maybe he could find his long time SEC bud and relive some old times.
Tim wandered down the hall. In the spare rooms on each side, he could see piles of hot, fuckable NFL beef piled on beds, on couches, all over the floor. All bucks spent and recharging for another day of partying. Finally, he walked into Peyton's kitchen to find Jason Sehorn making a pot of coffee. The New York Giants defensive back had just finished his morning shower and stood in the middle of the modern kitchen clad only in the white towel wrapped around his waist. The 6'2", 210# hunk had kept his waist slim and his body fat count to near zero, so that Couch was greeted with the sight of Sehorn's sculpted back tapering down to a cloth-covered bubblebutt.
"Goddamn, Sehorn, tell me some of that coffee has my name on it. Fuck, what a night!"
The older player turned around. "Hey Couch. Didn't know you were here yet. Was hoping you'd be here." He poured Tim a cup of joe, along with his own.
"Yeah, stud?" Tim had held a crush on the Giants hottie for some time now. And since Jason's conditioning program, he was that much hotter.
"Yeah. You were too busy at the last party reaming that blonde college kid from Texas..."
"Chris Simms?"
"Yeah, that one. Hot little fuck. Anyway, I didn't get my chance with you."
Couch smiled at the defensive lineman as he reached underneath the slim towel that barely met at the top of Sehorn's bulging leg. Tim felt the freshly moist flesh of Jason's thighs before his hand gripped the large erection trapped between the man's legs.
"I got all morning now, hell all day," Tim said, his hand exploring Jason's cock. A sizeable piece of equipment, the tool felt nice and hot in Couch's hand.
Sehorn purred as the Browns player rubbed his horny prick. He reached around the hunky athlete with both hands and slid his hands under the material of Couch's shorts. Feeling the bare flesh of Tim's ass, he groaned in appreciation and started rubbing and kneading the firm mounds of butt.
"Man, Couch, that's one hot ass you got. Just ready to be boned, if you asked me." Sehorn cocked his eyebrow up, half as question, half as declaration. He wanted this butt.
"Sorry, man, I don't bottom."
"That's not what Peyton says." Sehorn reached further in, rubbing his fingertips up and down Tim's crack.
"Peyton's full of shit," Couch replied, causing the two men to laugh. "Besides..."
"Yeah?"
Tim caressed and squeezed the oversized fucktube in his grip. "This cock definitely needs to be sucked. And you're in luck. This top loves to suck dick."
He wasn't lying. In no time flat, the 25-year-old was on the floor hoovering the most perfect prick he'd encountered in the longest time. It was long and perfectly proportioned, not too skinny and not too fat for Tim to get his welcoming throat wrapped around the meat. Best of all, it was a leaker. Tim really liked leakers.
Couch had been working on Sehorn's joint for about ten minutes when he felt someone's body next to his. Pulling off Jason's cock he saw it was Derek Jeter.
"Mind if I share with you, buddy?" the fresh-faced baseball star asked before licking at the spit-slick cock that stood before both men. Couch looked up and saw that three of Jeter's teammates were with him. Roger Clemens and Paul O'Neil both stood silently watching Derek now suck Sehorn's dick like the pro he was. Behind them stood Drew Hensen, the Michigan QB who'd dropped his football career and signed on with the Yankees. He was still proving himself in the subsidiary teams of the minor leagues, but already the top players had welcomed him into their social circle. Hell, his sexual prowess and staying power were legendary and the many football jock friends that Hensen had made him especially popular among the group of mostly bottom dickhound baseball athletes.
Tim stood up next to his football buddy and watched in amazement as gruff, stocky Clemens got down on his knees to start licking Couch's quarterback dick.
"Mmmh, yeah, guy, suck that baby. Wrap those lips around my hard jock meat and eat it." Coach urged Roger on by grabbing a fistful of the man's hair and guiding his head along the length of his own hard shaft. "Take it!" he groaned to the pitcher.
Drew meanwhile had assumed the position behind Clemens. Jeter had been the first of the champion team, to offer up his bubble butt to the hung stud, but while Drew always loved riding Jeter butt, right now he was in the mood for something different. Roger's juicy ass, which he slurped noisily away at. His ministrations on Clemen's hole just made the star pitcher suck more wildly at Couch's erection, eager to coax a full load out of his football-player nuts.
Henson's eager rim job was matched tongue stroke for tongue stroke by O'Neil who did his duty on Jeter's upturned ass. With his long tongue, he made full, wide swaths with each lick, wetting the cute jock's ass, getting it ready for his long pole.
Sehorn put his arm on Tim's meaty shoulder and hoarsely whispered into in his ear. "Tim, bud, I'm enjoying the hell out of this suck job, but it's your ass I really want. What about it?"
Tim looked nervously at Jason. It wasn't often he bent over, even for a hunk like Sehorn. Still, he couldn't help but be turned on by the incredible body and amazing dick. He watched as that cock disappeared inside Jeter's hot mouth then reappeared on the upstroke. It was nice and juicy and the right size for fucking.
"Fuck, Jason," Tim whispered back, "watching Jeter suck that dick of yours is getting me hot. You sure you can take it easy on a jock ass like mine? It's been a while."
"Don't worry, stud, it'll be nothing but pleasure for you. I know how to take care of a jock ass. Especially one as perfect as yours."
By now O'Neil and Henson were plugging away at their respective teammates, each longdicking the cocksucker in front of him.
Tim surveyed the scene and turned his head back to Jason. "Well, OK. But not in front of these guys."
Sehorn leaned back and examined Couch's round, muscular glutes. He dropped his arm and put an appreciative hand on the twin mounds of jock power. "Man, I don't think I can wait. You're too fucking hot, Couch."
"No problem. Peyt showed me a small private room upstairs. I think these guys can take care of themselves."
The two men pulled their dicks out of the Yankees players' hungry mouths. Seeing that the two footballers were leaving, Jeter and Clemens began to suck face while their behinds got pummeled by their equally hungry tops. As Couch and Sehorn walked around the men, they saw O'Neil's arm possessively claiming Drew's butt, his hand snaking its middle finger up Henson's hole while the two fucked away.
Tim led Jason to the small bedroom in the back of the house, which fortunately was empty. Couch had barely opened the door when Sehorn pushed him inside the room and slammed the door shut behind them. He was ready to take this jock ass.
Meanwhile, deep groans were echoing up from the basement workout room. They were Peyton Manning's. He stood in the middle of his squat rack, his hands tied to the metal beams, holding his muscular body securely in place. He was in a semi-conscious sex haze, only partly able to register the sight of his own reflection in the mirror in front of him. Or maybe it wasn't his state of mind blocking his view - the mirror was coated in a thick layer of football-stud splooge and there were only several spots where Manning could make out an image through the milky-white liquid.
A jolt of electricity shot through his body and automatically the big, cute lug of a quarterback spread his legs. "Yeah!" he heard behind him. It was Kurt Warner, looking on approvingly as some other stud munched on Peyton's ass. This had been going on all night. It started with QB Club alums John Elway and Boomer Esaison tying the Colt stud up and then going to town on his cute, fuckable ass, licking and eating out that hole til it was loose and relaxed, then drilling in their hot quarterback tongues, depositing their frothy manspit while Manning thrashed and cursed in sexual ecstasy. They went at it for at least two fucking hours, til they decided that their top duties were needed elsewhere. Other studs in the room quickly took over, tongue-fucking Peyton's sweet hole in succession, making sure to wet up it up good with their hot saliva and teasing the multi-million dollar assring with their teeth, tongue and lips.
By now, Manning was babbling incoherently. His turgid prick swung wildly in front of him. That tongue drilling him had to be the longest, hottest tongue in the NFL, it was really going long and deep on his ass. Warner watched as Peyton's nice, round balls drew up in their mansac, getting ready to blow. "That's it Kerney! Get in there deep. So fucking hot. Peyt-boy here's about to blow again... Yeah, fuck, he's shooting, man." Atlanta Falcons linebacker Patrick Kerney just pushed his face in deeper into Manning's perfect, deep crack and extended his tongue deep into the football star's rectum.
"Fuck!" Manning yelled at the top of his lungs as his cock twinged and his balls churned in another mega eruption. Warner really got off on watching Manning shoot his QB wad. He'd stumbled down in the basement workout area about 1 AM, so had missed half this hot rim action, but he'd watched as Peyton pumped four loads, each one as thick and rich and white as the next. Warner loved fresh jock sperm, especially when it came from a stud as cute as Manning. He wanted to walk over to that mirror and lick it from top to bottom, but thought he better wait. The night wasn't quite over after all.
As Manning came down from his ball-draining cum, Kerney slowly and regretfully removed his mouth from the guy's hot hole. He'd love another go at making the man shoot, but realized other studs wanted their turn. Still holding Manning's bubble cheeks apart, he looked at the gash before him and that beautiful hole. He hawked a load of saliva in his mouth and spit it straight onto Peyton's hole. With a quick swath of the tongue, he lapped the ring, pushing his spit right into the guy's now super-sensitive rectum.
Kerney stood up, his huge 6'5" linebacker frame only slightly more imposing than his red, swollen erect cock. "Next!" he called.
Warner smiled like a kid in a candy store and replied, "My turn, Kerney."
"Go to it, Kurt. He's good for at least two more, I think."
Warner bent down on his knees and got into position. Man, that ass was beautiful - round, musky and really wet from the night's rim job procession. Kurt didn't waste any time, he grabbed the slick melons of assflesh and parted them, allowing his face to dive right in.
Kerney may have had the longest tongue in the league, but Warner's was by far the fattest. "Shit, Kurt!" Manning cried. "Tongue my fucking hole! Yeah, that tongue's so thick, it's as fat as a cock. That's it buddy, stretch it out, feed my ass!"
For the next half hour, Kurt obeyed Manning's orders, matching the guy's hot fuck talk with an expert tongue job. When he was done, the hole was nice and sloppy and dripping with his fresh saliva, not to mention the saliva of half the studs invited to the party.
"OK, boy, party time." Kurt stood up and surveyed the studly figure in front of him. His hard thick dick raged proudly between his massive hairy thighs. Menacingly, he grabbed the fat cock in his powerful quarterback hands and started a slow jerking movement while Peyton looked over his shoulder and gulped at seeing the girth of Warner's fuck-monster.
The hulky Ram, meanwhile, had his eyes on Peyton's magnificent ass. Two round pieces of lily-white sculpted muscle. His rough callused hand caressed the taut muscle, then wedged itself deep in the moist, spit-slick crack of the host. God, it was hot! Manning's asscheeks flexed and clenched around Warner's hand trapping it deep in the heat and wetness of his mangash. Peyton's cock gave another stir and another dribble of pre-fuck juice as he felt the stud quarterback's hand touch his now-relaxed sphincter.
"Shit, yeah," the cute jock hissed as Warner's thick digit probed its way past the anal ring.
"Mmmh..." Warner growled, "Nice and wet." Hours of pro rim jobs by all of NFL's finest had left Peyton's mancunt dripping with jock spit. With each push of Kurt's finger, more saliva oozed out, coating Warner's hand and dripping to the floor. He tried to push the lubrication back inside Manning, but more juice flowed out. "Shit, buddy, you got the hottest damn jock ass. I don't know why I haven't fucked this beauty before."
With that Warner grabbed his stiff cock and slathered countless men's spit-lube on his horny jockstick. When he put the swollen head in the crevice of Peyton's asslips, he already thought he'd died and gone to heaven. That hole was sucking him in, opening up and teasing his prick with the hottest, wettest fucking ass kisses a top could dream of.
"Man, Peyt, you really want this, don't ya?"
"Yeah, bud. Fuck it, Kurt, fuck my hot ass! I've been needing this all night long. Fuck me!"
Three inches of Warner's hugely wide prick was already sinking its way into Manning's guts. "I'm already in buddy. Hot fucking ass!" Peyton moaned and leaned his head back onto Warner's broad shoulder. His tight, muscular body shook as the Rams starter pushed more cockmeat into his new fuckbuddy.
The two worked themselves into a full-on fuck. Warner decided to start slow and steady, letting Peyton get used to the formidable girth. Still, occasionally an intense sexual urge would spread through his body and he'd have to grab onto Peyton's hips or his thighs or wrap his arms around Peyton's broad chest while he pummeled the spit-slick butt.
These bursts of energy would drive Manning wild, his nuts would tighten up, his dick would bounce, his whole body would shake. Just when he thought he was about to cum, Warner would resume a regular pace, massaging Manning's guts and licking the salty, sweaty skin of the quarterback's neck and shoulders.
What Warner was doing to Peyton's prostate was beyond compare. Each inward thrust ran full and hard over the guy's buttnut, causing him to groan and leak even more. Suddenly, without warning, on one brutal fuckstroke, Manning's cock surged and stiffened to a magnificent length, while his nuts pumped out another thick, creamy spray of stud splooge. Over and over his dick sprayed its wad while his rectum contracted and dilated repeatedly on Warner's oversized shaft.
"Goddamn, Peyt, that's it! OH, squeeze that cunt, buddy. Fuck, I'm feeling it too. This ass is so goddamn hot. So fucking tight and snug. Gotta blow, too buddy." Warner ground his hips forward, impaling Manning's pert musclebutt with his rod. Holding his stud-fuck tight, he let loose his seed, hosing Peyton's asswalls with his wet deposit. His eyes shut as he savored the best orgasm he'd had in a while.
When the two men were done with their orgasm, they held themselves still, sweat dripping off both football god's hulk.
"I bet you want to take a break, huh?" Warner asked.
The young star looked back over his shoulder and sighed in fucked-out fatigue. "Yeah, Kurt, it's been a hell of a night."
Warner removed his cock. Halfway. Then deliberately, he screwed it back in, using his powerful ass muscles to rotate his thrust create a corkscrew motion in Manning's well-churned QB guts.
"Jesus! Warner, what the fuck...?"
"Are you sure, Manning? Sure you don't want another go?"
"Man, Kurt, I can't...I...fuck!" Another corkscrew jab with Warner's mammoth slab.
"The hell you can't. I'm in the hottest ass in the NFL right now, and I'll be damned if I'm backing out of it now."
Just then the men could hear the door bell ring. The first new guest of the morning. Warner turned around to San Francisco 49er Tim Rattay, who was watching the heated fuck from the sidelines while getting his dick sucked by cockhound Trent Dilfer.
"Tim. Trent. One of you guys go get the door. Tell them the host is busy right now."
Peyton just grunted hungrily as Kurt resumed his pile-drive fuck.
(to be cont.)