Skippy Gobbles College Cock

Skippy Gobbles College Cock 8 By Scott Grimes (Studstick@mail.com)

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In Which the Boys Hit the Gym and the Gym Hits Back

"Are you sure the dean said he wanted both of us to come to the gym? This Coach Dickman wants two work study guys?"

"Yeah. He said to meet the coach in the weight room at 6:30 am to do whatever he needs."

We had to get up really early to shower, grab a quick bite and head over to the field house. It was way across campus. At this hour their weren't a whole lot of people around, some guys showering after a run, a few married students shooting baskets before heading off to classes.

The weight room was locked. We waited a few seconds and then decided to knock. The door opened. Coach Dickman must have been in his mid-thirties. Crinkly crow's feet, and gray flecked sideburns framed a craggy face and a smile that would freeze a delinquent in his tracks. Coach was sweating. His curly black hair stuck to his forehead and his cotton wife beater to his chest. It was a big chest, a very muscular chest. It looked like an ad for a fitness magazine. His shorts were really...well...short. His thighs were bundled cords of muscle. His bare feet would have worked for a Michelangelo sculpture. He was no stripling, but his waist was still smaller than his butt and chest. He could have used those shoulders to pull a plow. His hazel eyes were staring at us like he'd just gotten a pizza delivery...and we were the pizza...one with extra toppings.

"BOYS!! " is bass voice echoed in the room. "Lock the door behind you. You're going to need to concentrate on your work here without interruption." We locked the door.

"Strip." We...yeah...you know...stripped.

Coach walked over to a horizontal bar that stuck out from the wall. More like he strutted. He crossed his arms, grabbed the hem of his wife beater and pealed the sweat soaked thing up and off his torso. Glory was revealed. A triangle of black curls sat between nipples the size of pepperonis. My mouth started to water.

He tossed me the shirt. "Which the fuck one are you?

I caught the thing and mumbled, "I'm Skip, sir. Uh, some people like to call me Skippy...sir."

`Wipe your face with that...Skippy." I did. The funk of clean sweat, men's soap and industrial strength pheromones hit me like smelling salts. My dick seemed to like the smell too.

Coach grabbed the band of his shorts and shimmied them down his legs. He went commando.

"You must be Josh, then. Catch!" Josh caught.

Wipe that wide-eyed innocent look off. "Get your nose in there. I want to hear some heavy breathing, Josh!"

My buddy closed his eyes and inhaled "Crotch of Coach." He automatically reached down and began playing with his own dick. Coach had that kind of effect.

While our lower faces were masked by his musk, we could clearly watch coach as he scratched his balls with one hand and pulled on his dick with the other. The coach really had his hands full. He stretched, yawned, took a wide stance, then laced his fingers behind his head. His biceps bulged, his lats stuck out like wings.

"Why aren't your faces in my pits, faggots?" snarled the man.

Good question. We answered by doing. We got in there and sucked the sweat that coated those manly hollows, sucking the drops off his tuffs of black fur.

Coach reached up to hold onto the chin bar. He looked like sex on a rack as he glowered at us. His full, low hanging cock started to stretch, filling out and riseing until it pointed at my buddy Josh.

Josh stared at the thing...the big thing. It was a big dick that pointed right at his mouth, pulsing with the beat of the big man's heart, powerful, but a little lonely looking, maybe. Like it needed a friend right then. I guess Josh decided to do a good deed because he fell forward onto that hot spike, engulfing it completely. He made it feel really comfortable there. He even had to hunch over a little so he could get the thing angled right and work it all the way down his throat. Josh crouched there, working his neck muscles like a python swallowing a piglet. You could almost hear Coach's big dick squeal with delight. Coach was silent though.

Over the sound of Josh's devoted cock sucking, coach said, "Skip, get your face in my arse. Get it in there deep and start eating." I didn't hesitate. Coach hung by his muscled arms, pulled his knees up halfway and swung back and forward a bit between Josh's deep throating and my rimming.

"Oh fucking hell YES!" crowed coach. This is the way it should be. A twink on my dick and a twink in my arse. Eat the fuck up, boys!" Josh and I soldiered on for a couple more minutes until coach's breath started to get a little irregular. He let go the bar and dropped to standing. Josh and I never lost our places.

"Change places, kids." Josh and I traded off for a few more minutes, then coach pulled me off his dick, turned me around bent me over and used his own knees to punch the backs of mine. My legs bent a bit and I put palms on the floor. Coach leaned in and started eating me out. He was a messy eater. He grunted and slurped like a bear in a beehive. My pussy had rarely felt more alive or more empty at the same time. He wiped his mouth on my right cheek, bit the left a little, stood up and stabbed his meat into my pussy. He just shoved it in. Then he waited, his hands on my waist while I yelled a little. After a half minute or so, I could settle down. My body seemed to know just what to do. My knees flexed -- little popping pumps that made my pussy dance on his big dong.

"God but I fucking love sticking my dick in a punks butt the first thing in the morning!"

He hunched his hips a bit and he started stabbing his meat in my hole like a wasp at war. Each jab punched my prostrate square on, tapping little squirts of precum out the end of my dick. Coach pulled all the way out of my arse , counted out loud to ten and slammed back in to me and began jabbing around at random., `Did you miss me there for a second, kid? Does gay boy need coach's dick punishing his pussy? Need coach to make your hole happy there, Skip? Need me to rip up your faggot guts for you? Give me those shorts, kid!" coach said. I grabbed them off the floor and passed them back, still needing to brace myself with one hand as he slammed his boy beater in my pussy.

He held one end of the waistband in each hand and twirled the cloth until he had a thick rope of fragrant cotton. "Chew it!" he barked. He tossed the thing over my head. When I caught the middle in my teeth, he pulled back like a charioteer and my head came up with it. He pulled back each time he fucked me, keeping my butt high, my back arched. Oh how he fucked me!

Josh was no slacker though. When the big man's balls started to rise in their bag, Josh leaned in and began to gnaw on them, working them down in and then chasing those little fuckers up to the base of coach's cock. Chewing and slurping, he tormented those tender mountain oysters. I think coach liked it a little rough. "FFFFUUUUUCCCKCCCKKCKKKKK!!!!!!!" yelled coach as he fire-hosed his cum deep in my tender trap. Josh snarfed and chewed on while coach bucked and jerked, his impressive dick caught in my possessive arse.

Coach slowly caught his breath. "Clean my meat while you beat yours into those shorts, kid," he told me. "Josh, make my hole even happier while you jerk off into my shirt.'

Coach stood there sweating, legs wide apart, dick still hard as a spike while Josh and I worked out our loads. We moaned a little but quickly changed to whimpers - our mouths kept working while we spooged into coach's togs.

"Stand up and give me those!" Coach took his shorts in one hand and his shirt in the other. You could see our pools of thick warm cum in the middle of each wad of cloth.

"Open up, kids!" We did, and he shoved those puddles in our mouths and held his funky clothes our faces.

"Now suck it out," he growled. He worked the cummy rags, using a finger to shove the gooey warm slop against our tongues as we sucked away.

"Now get dressed and get the hell out of here. I've got to shower before class."

Coach just walked to the door, carrying his soiled workout duds, his magnificent butt working with every step. He unlocked the door, turned and looked thoughtful for a moment. Then he tossed his clothes back to us. His dick still aimed at us like a gun.

"Keep em for now. You can snort and cum in em some more if you want, just wash em and bring em back next week, same time, same place, same routine." Naked, magnificent, he stalked out of the room.

Josh and I spent a little more time sucking our cum out of coach's duds before we got dressed and left. The smell seemed to stay on my upper lip. I had to stop by the library restroom and jack off again before I went to my Receptionist Training Practicum. Josh later told me he too had to pull out another nut, jerking under his desk during his physiology class. After all, they were studying the male reproductive system.

In Which the Skippy Helps With Homecoming

The Alpha-COK frat house was buzzing. Usually it was with multiple sex acts, but currently it was buzzing with preparations for Homecoming. Every time an upper classman said the word, you could hear the capital "H."

Homecoming was important because a lot of alumni would be returning. Since most of them were really well off, they'd be bringing donations and spending a lot on extras. There was a dance and all, and of course the football game, but the big draw for the Alpha-COK's was the non-stop fucking and sucking that would take place at the house. Preparations were elaborate. The great network of alums was tapped to arrange for everything from financial donations to catering and clean-up. You name it and there was an Alpha-COK in it somewhere...and very successfully too. I'd once asked Lance, since he was a business major, what kind of business he wanted to go into. "Cut throat," was his terse answer. I really don't know if he was kidding or not. Anyhow, the Alpha-COK's alums as well as the undergrads were famous for their get-it-done attitudes and their many skills of persuasion. Some cities, even some of the smaller countries of the world rose or fell, depending on the will of an Alpha-COK. Josh and I were really lucky to get in. We were really lucky to have met up with Mr. Grimes and Mr. Stone over the summer, and we were really lucky to be matched up with Lance and Clyde. Obviously we were motivated and hard workers with a lot of natural talent, but the luck part was lucky too.

So important were some of the alums that the upperclassmen would lend them their own pledges for the weekend. Lance and Clyde seemed a little pissed off about it, but they finally came around and let Josh and me be farmed out for the two days and three nights. The alums would have to agree to let Josh and me service Lance and Clyde at lunch time. I think everyone was pretty pleased with the deal.

Most of the alums would be staying at hotels in the area, but some would be in the guest wing of the frat house. Josh and I had never been there, but we'd heard some interesting rumors about it.

My assignment was Mr. Craig Stoker. He was the head concierge for the chain of Golden Hideaway Hotels. These specialized in very discrete, very expensive getaways for the extremely wealthy. I was told that Mr. Stoker knew where all the best skeletons were in all best closets and how much it would cost to open the each door -- or to keep the door locked if needed.

I walked through the arch of the frat house social room and paused. A man in a three piece suit stood up from a black leather wing chair and nodded to me. Black eyes in the face of a Roman eagle. Just on speculation, my heart sped up a bit. He held out his hand and I took it. His gripped mine firmly, then tighter, then bent my wrist backward a bit and forced me to my knees on the floor. I stared up at Mr. Stoker in a bit of shock. He smiled warmly. The smile closed and twisted into a bit of a smirk. You could tell alums even without their frat pins. He did have the frat's letters on his platinum cuff links though. He saw me eyeing the jewelry.

"Ah yes! Tonight those links will go up your arse, eased on their way with a bit of olive oil and cocaine. After I suck them back out of you, I will be fucking you for a very long time. I'm Craig Stoker...you will call me `Sir.' Trapped on the floor, my hand in his power grip, I could only nod.

"So you are the amazinjg Skip! A lot of us have heard a lot about you. People will hear a lot more when you squeal as I fuck the holy shit out of you. Any questions?

"No, sir."

"Good! That's very good, Skip. You're being a very good boy! I'm sure we will get along splendidly. Now show me to my room. I will have vodka on the rocks while you suck your first load out of me."

Mr. Stoker was certainly used to managing things. For the next three nights, I was going to be one of his things.

"Very well done, Skipper. Now lick it a little drier, kiss it lightly on the tip but linger. Perrrrrfect! Now put it away and zip me up. Then go splash some cold water on your face. Your sweet lips are puffy, and you're all hot and sweaty from sucking cock. I expect you to look cool and composed whenever we are out and about with others. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"Yes, sir."

"If we are dining with others and I have my hand down the back of your pants and my finger in your pussy, you will eat and converse without any reference or reaction. AM I UNDERSTOOD?"

"Yes, sir."

`If... while at the home game I jerk you off as you sit on my lap cheering, you will eat your spew out of my palm and swallow as I stroke your throat...all the time comporting yourself as if it's the most normal thing in the world. WON'T YOU?"

`Yes, sir."

"Good boy!. Then it's seems that we do have a meeting of the minds. Now undress me and lay out my suit for the evening while I shower. Strip and find the lubricant in my shaving kit. Pack your pussy with half the tube and lie flat out on the bed on your stomach. As I dry off, I will take my dick and stick you like a prize piglet. Then I'll fuck you until your balls puke up their cock snot. SEE THAT IT HAPPENS just like that!"

"Yes, sir."

"Oooohhh yess! Sweet fucking pledge pussy, I so fucking love it!" Mr. Stoker was toweling his head as he knelt between my wide spread thighs and dug his dick deep in my arse. The only thing he would let me do was wriggle my butt and push back against him a bit. Otherwise helpless, I could only pulse my pussy as I worked to get him to inject me. He tossed the towel aside and laid himself on my back. Then he rabbit fucked me for a while. Arching his back he ran both palms up my back, over my shoulders and held me by the throat. Then he rabbit fucked me again. He punched so hard I couldn't even squeeze him with my sex sock. He tightened his grip on my throat just a bit and my breath stopped. He fucked on. I started to jerk, trying to draw in air. No air came. He fucked on. I could feel myself turning red, every muscle cramped at once.

"FFFFUUUUCCCKCCKKKK YEAH! It's oh so fucking good to cum in a young guy's guts, Skippy. I'll be doing this a lot," he said, picking up the towel again and drying his head some more. "Stop gasping now and lick your cum off the sheets, then clean my dick. We need to get dressed and get down to cocktails. You should wear something with a high collar, I'm thinking.

Sometime later I was fully dressed, and he mostly so. Kneeling in front of him, I warmed his cufflinks in my mouth, then used my lips an teeth to work them through his French cuffs. He didn't like the sudden shock of cold metal on his pulse points, he'd explained.

He wore a casual blazer with an open collar. I was in a white button down and kakis. As we walked down the stairs side by side, Stoker slipped his hand down the back of my pants and ran a finger in my hole. Good thing I was still greased up.

"That's my spooge I feel in there, isn't it?"

I nodded. We arrived in the entryway where other alums stood with drinks in hand...and in some cases...dicks in hand, either a pledges or their own.

"Just a minute, Skip. I think you have something on your lip."

Stoker pulled his hand out of my pants and lifted it to my face. He ran his cum covered digit across my bottom lip, then stuck it in my mouth. I sucked.

`You're quite the accommodating little host this weekend! I'm going to make it a point to see just how accommodating you can be. He fucked his finger in my mouth a few times, pulled it out and replaced it with his tongue. His right hand grabbed my junk through my pants and his left grabbed my butt and pulled me to him. There wasn't much I could do but melt a little and start sucking his tongue. The room was quiet. Stoker pulled his tongue out of me and turned me loose. Conversations started up again.

"Get me a drink, Skip. Double single malt...neat. Get yourself some sparking water. It's good for a sore throat."

I worked my way through the crowd around the open bar. I could tell when I was among alums by the groping and the pinching. When I finally made it to the bar and ordered, the bartender leaned across and took my jaw in one big hand. He pulled me to him until our noses nearly touched.

"WHAT?" He said.

"Er...I'd like a double single malt, neat and a sparkling water with lime...please, sir."

"WHHHAAAAATTT???"

"I would like a double single malt, neat and a sparkling water however you would like to fix it. Pretty please. Sir."

"Sure kid. Why didn't you say so?"

It was going to be one of those nights.

In Which Skippy Attends the Alumni Banquet

"I will feed you." Stated Mr. Stoker.

And he did. We sat side by side before our plates of chicken cordon bleu with vegetables and bread sticks. I could already see where this was going.

Stoker would chat to the other alums around him and stare at the twinks sitting beside them. From time to time he would reach over to my plate, cut a piece of meat, skewer it with his fork and put it up to my mouth. I had to lean forward and work it off the tines. I did pretty well with the chicken, the vegetables were loose and more of a challenge. When he held up a bread stick, I had to nibble my way along it while he chuckled.

"Gentlemen! I must say that my escort here...Skipper...is most accomplished and accommodating. I can honestly commend him for his devotion to his work and the great natural skill he brings to it."

"You don't say?" This from a hulking brute of a man who sat across from us. He was in full marine formal dress, white gloves tucked neatly, buzz cut. Smirking.

`I dare say I do! Skippy! Show the man. Get his dick, Skippy...go get his dic.k boy. Get down there and suck the Marine dick, Skippy. Suck, suck, suck it!"

I had turned red before Stoker got to the word `dick.' I pushed my chair back and slid under the table. In the shadows, across the way, I could see marine dick standing tall and proud. Absolutely perky with power was that dick. On each side of me I started to see other pledges sliding down and crawling across to the men opposite the alums they were hosting. I think Stoker had started a trend.

Keeping my attention on the job, I got to work. First I licked my way down the whole pole before pulling up and twisting on his knob. The dick got even harder and I could see the marine's gut tighten. I fished two beautiful low hanging balls from his pants and began rolling them gently on my finger tips. Then I started power sucking that big piece of meat. Along with the slurping and gulping under the table, I could hear the conversation continuing above.

`You're right! The kid sucks like a pro. I've never soaked my meat in a better hole. The way he swallows and hums at the same time is primo. He's been eating me for just a couple of minutes and already I can feel my balls wanting to toss up my nut," growled my marine.

"The kid has a rather tiny mouth, but he's so eager to fill it up. He's like a crazed goldfish going for its last meal. The way he kisses my knob is quite titillating. If his pussy is as desperate as his mouth, you are going to have a weekend to remember. I would love to see the footage from your room camera when you pork this little piggy later this evening. Be sure to upload it to the alumni website."

"Will do," Stoker said, "...will do!"

"I'll look forward to watching that later. Now excuse me a moment will you? I need to unload my balls in your fag's mouth.'

The marine wasn't quiet about it at all.

"EEATTT MMYYYYFFUUCCCKKKIINNMEEEAATTTT YOOOOUUUU PUUUSSSYYMMOOUUUTTTHEED PLEDGE!!"

I drank down the bigmarine's thick juice. I drank for some time as he had quite a lot of it. And then I drank some more. The man could produce alright. Finally when the big unit was drained it began to soften. Well, it softened a little at least. I kissed each ball gently, then the cum slit before carefully tucking everything away in soft cotton, and zipped up the dress pants. I wiped my mouth on the hem of the table cloth and climbed out, again sitting beside Mr. Stoker. He held a cherry tomato to my lips.

"Roll this in your mouth, then hold it gently between your back teeth until it's warm. Then slowly squeeze it."

I waited, it warmed. I slowly squeezed. "Sppllllooooossshhhhh," went the pulp in my mouth.

"Yeah, I thought that would feel familiar!" Lowering his voice to a whisper, he added, "You will be pleased to know that the marine's little host was quite good, quite good indeed. But you are a great deal better. If I didn't have business to conduct and commitments to keep, I would sit in a chair watching porn all weekend and have you suck me constantly...calls of nature excepted, of course. Unfortunately, that won't be possible. I will continue though, to explore what is possible. Now excuse yourself and go upstairs. Get cleaned up and order us a bottle of champagne and a half dozen bananas. I will be up shortly and see how many ways I can get wine and fruit into you. NOW GO."

I went. He came after a bit. It went that way all night. He came and I came. That's how it went. For quite some time.

In Which Josh Does Some Circuit Training

Josh later filled me in on how things went for him. He had to show Dave Prodder around for the weekend. Mr. Prodder owns his own international personal training empire -- gyms, videos, supplements, consultants, masseurs, the whole works. He himself was the personal trainer for a lot of the elite. His business did so well because men wanted to look like Prodder...fit as hell, rugged, cocky and over-sexed. He was also ruthless.

`You're Josh, right?"

`Yes sir!" said my buddy with his usual enthusiasm. Imagine a lamb with the appetite of a pig. That's Josh.

"Well, Joshie...take my bags up to my room and unpack my things. You'll be staying there too for the weekend. You won't be needing clothes while you're in the room, but later on, swing by your place and bring back your workout stuff and something dressy."

Josh humped the two suitcases and the messenger bag up the steps and into the luxurious bedroom typical for all frat guests. He hung up the clothes, laid out the toiletries in the bathroom, then pulled the coffee table alongside the king bed. He figured the collection of ropes, clips, dildos, buggy whips and such should be in easy reach if needed. The four posts of the bed were already equipped with padded cuffs attached to ropes on ratchets. He'd just finished when Mr. Prodder walked in and used his hip to slam the door behind him. He carried a double vodka on ice in each hand.

"Get this stuff in you little guy. Don't doddle. You're going to need it. I want you relaxed and glowing when I start to work you."

Well, as you know, Josh isn't so little, but Dave was indeed big. Must have been six-five or six-six. Close up, he made you feel like a little kid again, the way you had to look up to see his face. At a distance, it was deceiving because his proportions were so good. If Rodin had sculpted a Doer as well as a Thinker, the Doer would have looked like Dave. After he stripped off and tossed his duds next to the big TV screen, it was easy to see that Rodin might have done the dick and balls too. Weighty, massive. It was a good thing that Josh had been hanging out with Clyde a lot. His experience would stand him in good stead.

"Show me how you suck dick, Josh." Dave was direct. Standing in the middle of the room, he scratched his chest and then his balls while he tossed back half his drink.

Josh was already on the job. He liked to be proactive.

"Good, little guy. Just like that. Give me about 50 long ones then nurse on the knob for about 30 seconds. Start nursing slowly and then speed up like I'm going to smack you if you don't suck out my load right away. Fuck! That's exactly right! Now corkscrew up and down on it. Good again, kid! Now pull off and swallow my balls. Both of them. I don't care how you stretch those pink little lips of yours, I want both my boys soaking in your mouth. You've got one minute. Good! I am impressed, kid. Now get your finger wet too and run it into my hole, start jerking me off at the same time. You're doing great, but you can do better. Chew on those rocks a little and keep jerking. When I tell you, you're going to get back on my knob while you finger fuck me and jerk out my load. Get ready to gulp a whole lot of cum, little fucker!'

Josh did exacting work. He was enthusiastic. He was prepared. As Dave started to unload in my buddy's mouth, he tossed the last of his drink and a couple of ice cubes in his mouth, swallowing and crunching while being nursed, jerked and finger fucked. It took several breaths before he was through.

Dave looked down at Josh's earnest and innocent looking face, the face that still nursed the knob...hoping for a few more squirts of baby butter.

"That's all for now, little guy. More later, of course, very much more, and not too much later. I'll be dropping loads in your mouth and that jock pussy of yours all weekend. It'll be your job to keep up. Now go wash the spit and cum off your face and get into your workout stuff. We're going to burn some muscle!"

Prodder worked Josh `til he dropped...literally.

The two wore trainers, socks and jocks. They didn't need anything more in the frat house gym. As they walked through the house to the well equipped room, they picked up quite a few followers, eager to see what might take place.

Prodder really made Josh work. He paced him doing everything he asked, and always doing more himself. Push-ups, chin-ups, crunches, squats. He'd have Josh do a set of 20, then he'd do 30, after which he's have Josh lick sweat from some part of his body and always suck his cock for two minutes. Prodder stayed hard. If Josh was cleaning his crack, he'd do some biceps curls while he waited to start another set. If Josh was licking his chest, he'd practice posing. After about 10 minutes, word had gotten around the place about Prodder putting my bud through his paces. Quite a crowd had gathered to watch and to comment.

"Look at that pledge suck Prodder's nipples! Man, I'd love to have his puffy pinks nursing on mine, wouldn't you?"

"What do you think he'll make the twink do next?"

After about a half hour of unrelenting exercise and sex work, Josh was red all over and dripping with sweat. He was so worked out that his dick had gone soft. Pretty unusual for Joshie, let me tell you.

"Josh, get your arse over to the bench press. Straddle it. Grab the bar, then lay your chest on it and aim your hole at the ceiling." Prodder walked up behind Josh and wiped a sheet of sweat off his back, then applied it to his raging meat. He squatted down and spit in Josh's hole, then stood again, bent his knees and walked up behind my bud.

"Brace yourself, kid. I'm going to fuck you until you dump a wad in your jock. Any of you clowns watching...if you want to play with the punk while I fuck him, go ahead. Just stay out of my fucking way!"

Prodder grabbed the weight bar on either side of Josh's hands, leaned in over my bud's back and stuck his dick in Josh's arse. Josh was so tired he didn't even yell. He just kept gulping for air. Prodder started a steady hard fuck, never fast, never slow. He'd stick his dick in Josh 10 times, then pull out until just the tip was in him, and count to 10.

Like circling sharks after bloody meat, about five guys from the audience moved in. One guy stuck his dick in Josh's mouth. Two others moved up by his shoulders, crouched down and started sucking and chewing his nipples. No one could get to his balls or dick because they were smashed into the bench. Instead, one guy crouched behind Prodder and another sat behind him and leaned backward. When Prodder hit the pause part of his cycle and counted to ten, these two would rim him the big man's hole and lick his balls. The whole thing worked like a well oiled sex machine.

The machine chugged along for about 10 minutes. The guy with his dick in Josh's mouth was replaced by two or three others, each jerking off and spewing on Josh's face. Every time it happened, Josh seemed surprised. The two on his nips traded out with the ones in Prodder's arse and on his balls. The labors of love never slackened.

Without warning, Prodder stopped at the end of a paused count of 10. Josh's butt bucked back onto Prodder's crotch as Josh spasmed and his dick dumped a big load load in his jock, a musky load that seeped through the mesh onto the leather of the bench. While Josh twitched and jerked, Prodder clasped his hands behind his waist, broadened his chest, sank balls deep in Josh's pussy and shot about seven rounds in my buddy's clenching hot hole. The guys at his arse and balls went right along for the ride, licking and sucking the whole time. Prodder wasn't even breathing hard.

As soon as the guy with his dick in Josh's mouth took it all in, he painted my bud's tonsils and collapsed over the weight bar and Josh's shoulders. The nipple gnawers finally left Josh in peace.

Prodder scooted his feet a little farther forward, then reached down and grabbed Josh under the knees. He stood and lifted Josh, still impaled on his dick. Prodder curled his arms, lifted Josh some more and his dick pulled out of the pledge's arse. He pulled Josh back against his chest and watched `til my bud's legs reached down to the floor. Still holding Josh, he backed up, turned him and let him slide to his knees, surprised face staring at the dick that had just made his pussy happy.

"Kiss it and clean it, kid. Then get a shower, you look tired. The rest of you guys...I'm skipping the shower `cause I think you'll do instead."

They did.