Sports at St. Sebastian's Academy
By Rio Mack
DISCLAIMER: Contains depictions of gay sex.
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It was the morning of the all-day carwash to benefit the St. Sebastian's Academy Athletic Program, one of the school's most anticipated traditions -- not only by the coaches and students, but by the local community as well.
'Jocks in Jocks' was the name they gave to the event, the name seen everywhere, in large-point boldface, on the fliers plastered all over town, featuring one of the most compellingly homoerotic photos imaginable, showing several of the most gorgeous high school studs from various teams, all hard-carved muscle, dotted here and there with a sexy coating of soap-suds, all in the skimpiest of jocks, the stretched mesh pouches of which did very little to obscure the sensuous outlines of their thick, luscious young cocks. The coaches would laugh among themselves each year, wondering why the town allowed such a frankly gay image to be displayed all over, in the stores and restaurants and on the streets, for that month or so before the benefit. But they knew, of course: it was an image that resonated strong and deep in the town's collective libido.
And 'Jocks in Jocks' it actually was: in a corner of the mall's parking lot, cordoned off for the afternoon, there were seven car-washing stations, each manned by the coaching staff, plus a few select team members, representing the school's various sports teams. Each stud there, athlete and coach, wore nothing more than a jockstrap and flip-flops for the entire day -- beautifully defined muscle getting more and more pumped throughout the day, as they had what was basically an all-day workout washing and scrubbing and drying car after car, jock pouches plumping almost immediately, getting more and more deliciously revealing, as water and suds and sun shrunk the mesh ever more tightly around fulsome young meat. These jock teens were so gorgeous, so built, so virile, so obscenely sexy, and so boyishly enthusiastic, that lines for the carwash stayed long all day.
Coaches and athletes from all of St. Sebastian's sports teams were there: football, basketball, wrestling, soccer, fencing, track and field, and baseball. Each team was represented by the head coach and his two assistants, along with six student-athletes: comprising each of the six-boy student crews were four of the best-looking studs on their respective squads, young jocks who were also the most experienced, most enthused, and most adept at boy-sex, as well as two gay virgins, hot-looking boys, new to the varsity team that year, who gave off every vibe detectable that they were ripe and randy for same-sex pleasure.
Gay desire was an important criterion by which to measure the boys, because the St. Sebastian's sports program was, and had been for almost all its one hundred and fifty year history, a secret bastion for gay lust. It started with the coaches, who were almost always former student-athlete stars, fresh out of college who became assistant coaches at their former high school for a couple years, learning the ropes, with the expectation that one of them at some point would replace the head coach, who, having built up an impressive resume after being on the job for five or six years, was ready to move on to college coaching. So the assistant coach would be promoted, and a new assistant hired.
The coaching staff, then, was a kind of closed loop of randy boy-lovers who promoted same-sex intimacy on their teams as much as they could: the locker room, shower, gym and playing field all became one lush garden of ripe athletic masculinity, a moist climate in which the boys' most primal, natural desires could flourish. Shirts were never worn during indoor practice, so the boys could dreamily gaze at as much skin as possible. And in the weight room, the rule was 'jockstraps only' -- coaches wanted as clear a view of muscle development as possible.
Then immediate nudity in the locker rooms. The coaches themselves set that tone of nude, athletic perfection, flaunting their own beautifully worked bodies and thick, impressive dicks as often as possible as they cruised the lockers, ready to comment on team performance, give their athletes pointers, or just slap an ass in warm encouragement. The coaching staff would spend a long time in the shower with their athletes, soaping their beautifully impressive bodies, especially their huge, thick man-cocks and firm, sexy asses. The young athletes loved to ogle them, their stiff, hard young pricks a sign of their desire. Every week or so the coaches would shave each other, explaining how it set off muscle development in vivid relief, encouraging the boys to do the same.
No actual passes were ever made, but all the cut muscle and hard cock made it only a matter of time. It was always a beautiful rite of young masculine passion to observe, rounding a corner and seeing two or three boys going passionately at it, giving the boys a smile and a knowing wink if they were observed. And then they knew which boys were ready for further intimacy.
All the while, then, while the teams always remained highly competitive at the state level in all their sports, this heady atmosphere of boy-lust was cultivated, resulting in a kind of shadow-team: those select young athletes who, cock-crazed by the boy-friendly environment the coaches encouraged, started quietly fooling around with similarly eager gay-curious teammates.
As soon as the coaches were aware of boys who eagerly seized the opportunity to fuck and suck each other, the coaches stepped in, inviting them to one of the periodic initiation parties they threw, orgies really, where boys learned the outrageously wonderful possibilities for same-sex passion at their school. Once initiated, they became members of the special Coaches' Team.
The 'Jocks in Jocks' carwash after-party (currently held at an estate in the country owned by the football coach) was the hottest initiation party of the year. All teams represented, a flood of hot male flesh; eager gay bucks, excited virgins, and their randy coaches made for the headiest mix imaginable. Once they arrived at the estate and stripped off their jocks, it was gay teen lust all night long.
The boys at these initiation events were almost always the boys who were most beautiful, most developed, most exuberant, and most athletically gifted. It was rare to find one of the stars on the field who didn't also turn in an impressive performance sexually. Once tutored in gay sex, these young jocks proved fantastic lovers; full of the unbridled horniness of youth, their appetites were insatiable, always ready to fuck or suck or jack each other or any of the coaching staff.
There were, then, for the boys on Coaches' Team, depending on when they started having sex with other boys, two or three years of the most exciting gay sex possible, and an ongoing supply of muscular young Adonis's for the coaches to frolic with. The tradition, all kept on the down low, proved enormously satisfying for all involved. Class reunions, obviously, were highly anticipated.
The carwash remained jam-packed with customers all day. There were always a lot of girls (from area high schools and colleges), and maybe even more boys (high school, college, and a little beyond; some obviously gay, giving wolf whistles and winks, others just gazing in shy, achingly curious awe). Always frequent, too, were older men, who stared at the boys with an almost harsh, unabashed hunger. Once in a while, an older woman. The women and gays had the same tipping style: bills in the pouches of those they found hottest, copping as big a feel as their tip warranted. The older men and the younger, closeted boys either didn't tip, if their shyness was that paralyzing, or they meekly handed a bill to the coach or boy closest, their minds an almost nauseous whirl of repressed desire after staring helplessly at raw naked muscle for the length of their car's wash.
For the young athletes of St. Sebastian's, too, it was one long dick-hardening thrill -- the sheer, mind-boggling awesomeness of being in just a jock strap, all day, among twenty-seven other hot, young dudes -- built, buff, studs showing off hot naked ass and muscle, teen jock cocks stuffed tight and bulging in a shrunk-wrap pouch -- all water and hose and suds and hard-carved, gorgeously rippling flesh. Not to mention their hot older coaches, also clad in only jock and muscle, and all with that light, sexy stubble of shaved man-fur. All through the warm, late-summer afternoon, hot sun and hose-spray gave a sexy sheen to all that jock beef. It was an all-day sausage-fest: teen cocks started plumping almost immediately -- especially the young, still-virgin first-timers there, new to these boy-sexy varsity ways, who couldn't believe something as outrageously hot as this could actually be happening.
The coaches were uncanny in their ability to identify new initiates each year for their special team-within-the-teams, this very select intramural squad. It only took them a few days with any boy new to the varsity squad: noticing his look, his bearing, his stares, sometimes even just the way a kid licked his lip, unconsciously, amid all the varsity beefcake. The coaches knew all the tell-tale signs for spotting a boy whose most secret passion, most thrilling fantasy, was exactly what they'd be doing both at the carwash itself and the after-party later that night. So weeks in advance, they'd put out the word among their Coaches' Team members, urging the hottest, horniest boys to check out so-and-so, maybe maneuver things to a one-on-one session in the sauna or shower, when the rest of the team was gone, and see how things went. Or have the kid over to work on homework, flirt a playful bit, try to read the signals, just as they would in a game.
Then, the week immediately prior to the annual carwash, the coaches would have a skull session with the boys on their special squad, as to possible new Coaches' Team members, giving their insights, and getting those of the young players, then finally agreeing on the two most likely candidates to invite to this year's event. Never were their hunches wrong; each virgin at the after-party, once turned loose in the midst of a raging teen-muscle orgy, proved only too eager to enjoy the sex he'd fantasized about for so long.
One of the two virgins the basketball team's Coach Daniels brought this year was a junior transfer sensation, a forward who'd joined the team last fall and had had immediate impact; the best kind of impact: he was the key to their winning the state title this past spring. His name was Blake Berringer, and all season he unfailingly had double figures in one category or another, usually double-doubles, occasionally a triple-double.
Plus, he was hot as fuck. The coach's boys on the team unanimously recommended him as a new initiate; everyone got the vibe he was strongly boy-curious. About six foot, gorgeous build; his slightly beefy lankiness firm, deeply carved, and bulging; deliciously-cut eight-pack abs; dirty blonde hair, which he kept jock-scruff short; a permanent blonde stubble on his square, chiseled jaw; and emerald-green eyes that looked like there were flames dancing in them. The cherry on the whole luscious sundae: he had one of the longest, thickest, tastiest-looking cocks in the locker room: uncut, a couple light veins running down its solid smooth heft, the cockhead sexily sheathed by tasty-looking hood of foreskin that nippled sexily a quarter-inch past his cock-tip; the whole gorgeous package accented by a shaved-almost-smooth stubble of blonde pubes that matched his face-stubble.
Matt Stand, the senior QB, who was participating in his third carwash, became obsessed with that hot blonde stud the moment he saw him that morning over at the basketball team's station. Hottest dude he'd ever seen, hands down. Instant erection for Matt, his j/o fantasy made flesh.
So Matt kept sneaking looks all day at the jock-clad dream-stud. Blake kept catching him staring, and both of them would crack up and get red every time, mouthing 'fuck!' or 'damn!' But no matter how many times he was caught, Matt couldn't stop looking at that boy across the lot. Something about him -- fuck, everything about him -- made him totally obsess.
When the carwash finally ended, all the boys and their coaches, still in their jocks, boarded a charter bus, which drove them about thirty minutes into the country, to the huge private estate that would serve as the setting for their after-party.
The young athletes, pumped from a day of seriously lewd boy-watching, boarded the bus with testosterone levels raging. Rowdy jock horseplay led to flirty, playful touching and hair-mussing, then trying to strip off each other's jocks (succeeding in every case, of course, as the experienced boys especially couldn't wait to show off their thick lusty cocks), then muscle worship, or lewd grabbing and groping. Soon various pockets of boys began fondling and light kissing, then heavy stroking, then deep kissing and jacking and sucking. By that time, any boy new to the varsity squad realized, with an almost unbelieving delight, what sort of party was in store that evening. As if to make things even clearer, in the back of the bus, against the emergency door, the first of the fucking began Ð a senior wrestler having his way with a junior defensive lineman who'd caught his eye earlier in the day, a gorgeous, corn-fed hunk he'd begun hitting on as they waited in line to board the bus, an eager young stud, awed by the grappler's awesome body and rugged face and only too happy to be a gay virgin no more.
As soon as the bus arrived, the boys eagerly rushed inside, anxious to begin the fuck-fest. First, though, they listened as several of the coaches explained the evening for those new to the varsity squad (and hence, new to initiation parties). Those new members, as they heard about the lay-out, quickly appreciated the gay-curious boy's paradise they were now thrillingly a part of.
There were two of the hippest DJ's, who played at the hottest gay clubs downtown -- one in the large, open entertainment room, one out by the pool. There was a bag of bud and a few bongs on the kitchen table. Ice cold beer, in kegs, bottles and cans, in tubs and coolers scattered throughout the house and patio. Lube and rubbers also everywhere throughout the house. Gay porn clips, featuring hung, muscular, college dudes sucking and fucking, played non-stop on all the flat screens in the house. Also on the walls, in almost every room, was homoerotic artwork: Dieux de Stade posters, gay porn movie posters, or posters advertising gallery shows of male erotica; also art prints, photos, paintings, and sculptures of nude, muscular men. Maybe most sexily, at least one of which was hanging in almost every room, were large, framed photographs of absolutely gorgeous young male nudes, athletic boys posed in the most erotic of positions, some solo, some couples, some featuring three or more naked boys.
The models in the latter photographs turned out to be former students of St. Sebastian's, young athletes like the boys there tonight, who had volunteered at some point during their years at the academy to pose nude for the photography teacher, Mr. Forrest, who not only taught the subject but was an established artist himself, one with a highly anticipated annual show of his photographs of young male nudes. His work could be found in many museums and private collections nationally. Most all coaches over the years loved to collect his art -- they'd especially buy prints featuring former athletes on their teams, sentimental value adding to the already highly charged erotic content of the work. Each coach who owned one or more of those amazing works felt the same way: seeing gorgeously lit and posed photos of past young-buck fucks of theirs always got their dicks tingling.
Sensorily, then, the whole day -- from the carwash itself, which meant all that posing and flexing and cruising, watching cut, hard muscle pump and writhe and ripple all day; then that very horned-up, bus-ride foreplay en route to the country; and finally this non-stop orgy: all the hot boys and men, naked or near-naked; the gorgeous, sexy DJ's (one in a leather harness and jock, the other in just basketball shorts); and the hot male porn and art all through the house -- was designed to fan boy-lust into a huge, raging conflagration, which is exactly what happened. The long afternoon of buff, near-naked muscle-jocks cruising each other had had its unsurprising effect, producing a houseful of hot, horny boys, turned on by every other dude in the place, who all wanted to dance with, watch porn with, jack, swim, kiss, stroke, suck, and fuck every other sexy boy there. Everyone in the place, athletes and coaches, were there to enjoy as much jock dick as they could.
Some of the boys who'll be seniors in the fall, who've been to this after-party once or twice before, knew from experience to have packed a fresh jock or some sexy underwear, to wear seductively at the start of the party. That was a tradition the coaches started: it was so hot seeing the boys' young muscular beauty teasingly covered in just jocks or skimpy briefs for a while; then the joy of unwrapping them. Not to mention showing their own beautifully worked bodies off in a hot pair of micro-trunks or a sexy pair of briefs showing off a thick length of man-meat, driving the horned-up younger dudes wild. It was part of their role as coach, as teacher of the body, schooling them in men's fetishes and desires, eroticizing sexy underwear for them.
The younger boys had no idea something like this could ever happen at a school-related activity Ð their fantasies taking such spectacular life all around them. Suddenly, they were able to flirt and flaunt and touch and fondle in ways they'd always desired but never dreamed possible. The new boys were all sex-starved. Their experience with girls up to now had always been nervous and unsatisfying. But here amid all these hot, horny boys, anything sexual, flirtatious, seductive seemed so easy, so natural, so basic, so thrilling. There had been those among the new boys Ð most, in fact Ð who'd of course discovered gay porn, and had explored their deepest sexual longings by dreamily stroking to fantasies like this. But now they were living them. They were having the most exciting time of their lives. It wasn't even about realizing they were gay; it was simply about bodies, needs, desires, and the rich, satisfying possibilities that lay open to them now.
The coaches also explained another feature before they turned their horned-up young stallions loose -- the score cards. Each boy received a kind of bingo card, with two boxes each under various headings: Jack, Get Jacked, Suck, Get Sucked, Fuck, Get Fucked. You also got four sheets of stickers, each sheet contained eight stickers of your own face. Then, every time you had some sex that evening, you put your face-sticker on each other's cards, in the appropriate box, whether you were sucked or the one sucking, etc. You were encouraged to get a fresh card if your first one got filled up. There was no limit on the number of new cards you could take. At the end of the night, a tally was taken to see whose face appeared the most on all the cards. That young cocksman earned the title of 'Stud of St. Sebastian's,' which he held until next year's carwash.
The randiest among the jocks naturally started hitting on other boys immediately, amped to start filling their card as quickly as possible, as competitive in this sexual contest to score the most points as they were in their athletic contests. So they began to prowl, to stalk, to leer, to fondle, to grope. A favorite move was sidling up silently in back of an unsuspecting hottie and hugging your hands over the boy's pecs, kneading them sensuously, while your thick cock insistently nuzzled the boy's crack. The keenest among them looked for situations where they could score more than one sticker at a time -- jacking two boys while you sucked one off, say. The sophomores and juniors new to the varsity squads that summer lay back in dreamy delirium as some of the hottest jocks in the school worked on their cocks. These young boys suddenly had the most exciting reason yet to be glad they had made varsity that year.
All the virgins among any given year's invites followed the same pattern, year in and year out: once another boy - or boys -- had broken them in during the after-party orgy, they immediately sought out Coach, excited to finally fulfill that most primal fantasy that had been simmering in them for so long: worshipping Coach's awesome build, sucking his thick, luscious man-cock, then being fucked by Coach. And that's the way the coaches liked it; they wanted the boys to come to them, seek them out.
Every boy was hard and horny immediately, caught up in the immediate rush of hard-core gay eroticism, but also just the sheer fun of being around a bunch of hot other dudes; it was the dream-party vibe of all time for every boy in the place: a hot naked boys-only muscle party, featuring their awesomely sexy stud coaches. No boy in the place could have wished for a better time, all were amped at the pure, deep body-pleasure that lay in store: a mix of dancing, getting high, hot foreplay, even hotter sex, swimming, and just general dude intimate camaraderie. Most of the coaches sported cock rings. A few of the seniors did.
Matt Stand was one of those boys who went stalking his prey at once. The minute the coaches had finished up their spiel about the night ahead, Matt put his moves on his basketball hottie crush, boldly sauntering right up to him, making sure his thick jock cock waggled back and forth invitingly. He knew other dudes were probably fiending for this smoking hot new boy, but Matt claimed his droit du seigneur as star player on the school's most important team.
"Hey, man, that dope in the kitchen sounds kinda tight. You wanna do a bowl or two, grab a beer, then come back here and dance? This music is way chill, and, I gotta say, I love dancing with another hot dude even more than I like dancin' with a hot chick. And you, dude, are WAY hot!"
Blake smiled and looked down bashfully. The he raised his head and looked at Matt with an evident hunger gleaming warmly in his fiery green eyes.
"Sounds tight as hell, dude! You're Matt Stand, right? That was funny as hell all afternoon, checking each other out!"
They both laughed shyly but hungrily. Matt was further inflamed by Blake's frank lust.
"You're an awesome QB, by the way, dude. You'll be like the Heisman Trophy winner in college, no doubt!"
"Yeah, right! As if!"
Now it was Matt's turn to look down shyly. Quickly, though, he resumed his cruising.
"So you know me. But now who are you, besides the hottest boy at this party?"
"Fuck, dawg! I ain't hot. But you're fucking smoking, dude!"
And here, Blake, almost instinctually, reached out and stroked Matt's beautifully carved musculature with a combination of reverence and desire. Both boys' cocks began to stiffen appreciably. They were so turned on by each other.
It was unreal for Blake, being naked, getting hard with another hot dude like this, knowing sex was throbbing imminently between them.
"I'm Blake Berringer, by the way. On the basketball team."
"NO SHIT YOU ARE!" Matt yelled appreciatively, now connecting the name of the kid who had become such a star during the basketball team's run-up to state to this gorgeous dude standing naked and sexy before him.
"Now I recognize you! You're Mr. Triple-Double State Champeen! I remember the first game I saw you play in this year, dude! As I started watching, I got so damn turned on by this hot, hot body and this beautiful face you got."
Matt traced his hand over the boy's jock good looks, letting his finger sexily trail over the stubble on that firm jaw, then over those full, moist lips.
He winked, smiled at Blake, and continued his story.
"But then, dawg, just when I start thinking how fine you look."
He let his hands glide over the boy's smooth, firm ass.
"And how very much I'd like to tap this shit, I realize you're showing off these mad skills! You're a fucking AWESOME player, dude! Talk about winning a college trophy! You are the fucking real deal, dawg! Naismith, no doubt!"
The two of them were lost in their own world, giddy over how attracted to each other they were. Both their cocks throbbed hard and excited.
They sauntered to the kitchen, hands stroking each other's asses while they walked through a tableaux vivant of young male lust, and did a few bowls amid the crush of the naked jock muscle clustered around the table, boys bubbling with lust and testosterone, anxious to float a pot buzz over their dick buzz, to heighten the pleasure of what was to come.
After a few puffs each, Matt and Blake grabbed a couple beers from a cooler, then left the kitchen, heading back to the family room, to groove to that sexy club-trance music while they flirted with each other some more.
Almost as soon as the boys began swaying to the beat, they instinctively began grinding against each other's naked, hard-carved bodies in every combination possible -- cock against cock, cock against hip, or one boy's cock grinding hard and sexy up and down against the other's ass, all the while hungry hands stroking hard jock muscle or ass, lips and tongues more often than not pressed equally hard against each other.
Their dance was luscious, bass-heavy foreplay: stiff, leaky cocks; firm, cut muscle; and diamond-hard nipples -- all rubbed hard, slow and sensuous against each other, to that hypnotic, body-deep beat.
Blake was in heaven. He had never felt more himself. This was one of the things he savored about being a student athlete, the heady atmosphere of nude intimacy with other fit males. Only this wasn't just a lush locker-room scene, this was his late-night j/o orgy-dream come true -- a room full of hot, buff, naked teen-studs, all consumed with boy-fever. At last he could worship another dude's muscle the way he'd always fantasized. A dude's dick, too -- finally. And Matt had such a huge, sleek, powerful-looking cock, absolutely gorgeous. Blake couldn't believe the first dick he was going to suck was as mouth-wateringly perfect as this young football god's.
Blake loved gazing on gorgeous, built boys. But he'd always had to do it with such sly, shameful secrecy. But here, boys could exult in each other's beauty -- handsome faces and well-worked muscle and naked cock -- with the full force of their longing. This was a wonderful new world for Blake, an apotheosis of his most primal desires.
At his other school there'd been a tiresome culture of homophobia and gay-bashing. Blake, although he'd never yet been with another boy, had assumed for years he was gay, given how strong and persistent his desire was, but at that other school, he'd never even dared make a move on another dude. And that queer-unfriendly jock culture at his former school continued echoing in his mind long after he transferred to St. Sebastian's, making him still too nervous to confess desire in the hopes of intimacy, fearing this group of boys might be equally homophobic. So he'd just knuckled down and concentrated on basketball (between that and classes way harder than he was used to, he had little time for anything else). Then came the state finals and even more basketball.
But gradually he began to see the guys at St. Sebastian's were cool, fun, normal. Not to mention those jockstrap-only weight sessions! But now to see this! To know his own deepest desires concerning boys were equally relished by so many of the other boys -- not to mention the hot young coaches. And just why the fuck ARE all the coaches here such young hotties, he wondered delightedly? A dude couldn't ask for better eye candy than these twenty-something studs in charge of the various teams here.
Now, dirty dancing with the hottest stud in the school, a boy he'd worshiped from afar every since he'd arrived.
After about three songs, Matt pulled Blake close to him and kissed him passionately. Then his lips started kissing Blake's inner ear sexily, breathing hot and whispery. Then he softly voiced his immediate desire.
"You wanna go be by ourselves now, dude?"
Blake thrilled to the question, because he knew it meant the real sex would start now, and he was achingly ready, about five years ready.
He kissed Matt's ear in answer, licking and purring and breathing hot and low.
"Fuck yeah!"
Then Blake looked down a little shyly.
"But I gotta tell you, dawg. Ain't never been with a dude before."
Matt lifted Blake's chin up and just gazed at the boy's masculine beauty.
"I been with lots of boys. But I've never been with one as hot as you. Fuck, dude, you should be like a model or something. You are so damn gorgeous! You get me hard as fuck. Couldn't take my fucking eyes off you earlier. Can't now."
Matt kissed Blake again, rubbing his ass, then he nodded with his head in a signal they were leaving and started walking off down one of the halls leading out of the living room.
He seemed to know exactly where he was going, so Blake just followed in a lust-haze, mesmerized by the QBs firm, marble-chiseled ass.
As they worked their way through the almost maze-like rooms of this huge luxury house, Blake felt like he was drifting on a strong, rushing current of jock-muscle lust. Beautifully fit dudes were either sucking or fucking or jacking or kissing or just stroking each other's hard-cut torsos all around them, or there were muscular boys standing off alone, here and there, shamelessly, seductively, stroking hard, jutting cocks, hungrily, staring intently across the room at the evening's next possible hook-up, the way they'd size up their opponent on the mat or the playing field. Sprinkled throughout the mix, like ruggedly handsome satyrs frolicking through the forest, having their randy sport with the gorgeous young fauns.
They got to some stairs, hurried up, then walked down an upstairs hall and into a beautifully furnished bedroom (one Matt has used before with boys on previous trips out here to Coach Rayburn's).
Once alone, Matt pushed Blake back on the bed, letting him know who'd be in charge tonight (at least from the start). He was on the boy's long, thick, hard-jutting cock in a minute, driving Blake into instant paroxysms of ecstasy.
Matt was an amazingly skilled cocksucker. He lavished every luscious technique he knew on the beautiful cock in front of him, wanting to make Blake's first time magical.
Blake, indeed, was overwhelmed. His football stud crush went from deep-throating his cock to gently teasing his shaft and cock-head and piss-slit with his tongue, working it inside his foreskin, driving Blake nuts, causing the precum to flow steadily. Then back to full-bore sucking, then tongue-worshipping his ballsac, then his taint, then -- aw fuck yes! -- his hungry virgin pucker. He thrashed his head from side to side, moaning and grunting in ecstasy.
A few more minutes of this exquisite dick-pleasuring and Blake came harder than he'd ever cum before. Matt smiled at him, melting Blake into deeper lust. He closed his eyes in almost stupefied pleasure, feeling Matt's tongue lick up every drop of spent boy-cream. Matt kissed his way up Blake's beautifully cut body, and they kissed with an electric passion.
As their lips and tongues attacked each other with a savage, youthful hunger, their hands worshipped their sleek, hard-carved bodies. Pressed up close to each other, chest to chest, hard nipples brushing hard nipples, they reveled in the feeling of each other's hard cocks pressed tight together in hard, throbbing pleasure.
Blake finally pulled out of their fevered kissing to catch his breath.
"Fuck! This is unreal! So fucking hot! Dude, you are fucking amazing! Fucking sexiest dude I've ever seen!"
Another kiss, then Blake worked his way down Matt's beautifully pumped chest, kissing and licking everywhere, sucking Matt's nipples, biting them, loving to hear Matt's low moans of pleasure. He worked his tongue into the deep cuts of the jock god's hard-carved eight-pack.
Then he reached his prize -- his first boy-cock.
At first he felt a kind of shy, awed reverence for this hard, gorgeous lust-object, so he lightly licked and kissed and gently worshipped the fierce power that seemed to emanate from Matt's thick, straining hardness. But after the first few luscious licks, he grew bolder, hungrier, and soon was taking more and more of that firm, delicious length of boy-meat into his suddenly ravenous mouth. Soon he was devouring Matt's cock with sloppy, grunting abandon, taking to cocksucking like a natural.
Matt pressed against the back of the boy's head and gently broke him into the kind of hard face-fucking rhythm he liked. After a while, to let Blake rest a bit, he pulled out and let his long, thick cock play back and forth over Blake's sensuous, passionate lips, alternating his stroking with teasing little lust-taps on Blake's precum-glazed lips, telegraphing a barely-coded message of desire to this beautiful, bewitching boy.
More sucking, with Matt shifting so they could 69, bringing a deep moan of ecstasy from Blake's cock-stuffed mouth. They sucked each other's throbbing cocks for a while, then Matt began to work first one finger, then another, into Blake's excited hole.
Blake continued to relish his first taste of cock, made than much more exciting by Matt's ass-play. He thought his pleasure couldn't be greater until he felt Matt's tongue begin to rim him.
"FUCK YES! Tongue my fucking hole! Get me ready to take this hot jock cock up my tight, virgin ass! Aw fuck, this is SOOOO fuckin' fine, dude!"
He went back to worshipping the football stud's cock, the gorgeous length of boy-meat that soon would be taking his cherry, giving him the ass-fucking he'd fantasized for forever.
Between sensuous tonguing and teasing fingering, Matt finally had Blake's hole open enough to take dick.
"Gonna fuck ya now, dawg.! Gonna fuck this tight, sweet hole. God, your ass is so fucking gorgeous, dude."
"Fuck yeah! Gimme every fucking inch of this hot jock dick! Fuck, you are so fucking beautiful, dude! So damn sexy!"
Matt flipped the gorgeous blonde stud over, so they could drink in each other's muscular beauty while they fucked. Then, kissing Blake with tender, smoldering passion, he raised his cut torso up and began to work his hard, throbbing dick slowly into Blake's hungry hole.
Blake fell into a deep, moaning sea of erotic sensation in his first fuck. First there was the luscious sensation of boy-cock busting his cherry and flooding into his warm, eager hole. Then, once the football god bottomed out, and Blake savored the thrill of hard, throbbing cock in his hungry ass for the first time, Matt got to work, finally claiming the prize he'd longed for all day.
Matt's huge, hard ramhorn began bucking, pistoning into Blake with youthful abandon, forcing from Blake a series of strained, high-pitched cries of unbelieving ecstasy. And the feeling of Matt's full, jostling ballsac, filled with those big, egg-sized balls, as it kept slapping against his cheeks with each thrust, was absolutely amazing.
This first time was amazing, storybook, so much more awesome than he'd dreamed. And he'd longed for it often, fingering his ass almost always when he jacked, fantasizing about a hard dick up there, pumping and stroking and pounding, but the actual reality was so much more fantastic.
Matt would pull out every now and then for about a minute, to work his huge head and shaft sexily over Blake's big, floppy sac, helping to stoke up Blake's cum, fan the fuck flames. It worked; each cock-massage of his balls sent an electric current to Blake's brain, driving him wilder with desire.
Matt's own boy-lust for the hottest boy he'd ever been with had him hard and throbbing enough to keep up a steady stream of hard-ass fucking for over thirty minutes. Blake shot his first load after about fifteen minutes of mind-blown thrill, then another after ten more minutes. His ass became almost instantly addicted to Matt's cock.
Blake was inexperienced, so this first-time encounter was all Cinderella-like mind-blowing to him. Matt was quite experienced, but it was easily the best sex he'd ever had; indeed, best he could ever imagine. He felt like some young wunderkind dancer, who'd at last found the right partner, his passionate equal, one who finally let him do all his most daring, athletic moves. The two of them were perfectly, radiantly, in synch.
When Matt finally came, it only took a minute or so, collapsed on his new lover, until they both began kissing, stroking, getting hard. Then more sucking, Blake's first time fucking a boy, more jacking, sucking, and muscle-worship to get them hard yet again.
At one point during their hours of love-making alone together in that bedroom, giddily filling each other's cards with each other's sticker-photos, Matt realized he'd totally fallen for the boy.
But that was stupid, he kept telling himself, through all the dazzling, still-stoked kissing and sucking and fucking and stroking. I mean, he wasn't even gay, not really. Maybe Blake was, but he wasn't.
Matt had a girlfriend, after all, a total hottie. They'd been together since summer after sophomore year. So Matt considered himself straight, of course.
It's just that, over the last couple years, Matt has become totally into the amazing boy-sex his sport and intimacy with other hot-looking high school jocks allows, the sex so many of his jock-buds were equally addicted to. But that didn't mean anything. It was nothing more than guys together nutting, just taking care of what were ordinary young male drives, made even stronger by their highly-pumped testosterone levels. But fuck, was that sex ever hot! He and the dudes he hung with were ALWAYS up for some hard-core boy-fun.
He and Tea, his girlfriend, were great together, they had fun together, but as for actual sex, well, right now, he'd take hot times with his bro's any day. No comparison which kind of sex got him harder -- way harder!
What was especially chill about Tea was how she loved seeing Matt get it on with other dudes! It was awesome! Sometimes they'd double date with another hot jock stud and his girlfriend, and it always ended up in one of their houses, whoever's parents weren't home that night, in one of their bedrooms, the girls fingering themselves while they watched the hot muscle-boys boys suck and fuck and cream all night. Those nights were amazing!
Lots of times (actually, really ALL the time lately), he'd drop by her place with one or two of his hot-looking buds, or he'd arrange for a couple of dudes to drop by when Tea was at his house, and it was so damn cool! He didn't even have to ask! She knew exactly what these hot jocks wanted! So she'd lay back and watch them, fingering herself and moaning, and sometimes fingering one guy's pucker or stroking or sucking one of their cocks. The dudes were always way too into it with each other, of course, to eat her pussy or even fuck her. But that was OK with her -- it was so hot watching them!
But this basketball stud was too fucking much for Matt. Hottest dude he'd ever seen, period. And Matt had to admit, when you got down to it, a hot dude, with all those fucking muscles and a firm ass and a long, thick cock, was waaaayyyyy hotter than a hot girl. Titties were cool, IF they were just the right size; otherwise, they could be kinda gross. And pussies? Well, he's fucked a lot of girls, but he'd never fucked a pussy hotter, tighter, warmer, more freaking awesome, than fucking some ripped jock's tight little hole. And he's never seen a pussy yet, even that cute little waxed slit of Tea's, that got him as hard as seeing a hot, thick length of succulent boy-meat. Jock cock was fucking gorgeous!
But no dude had ever affected Matt on this level before. This guy was in his head. Had been, right from the start, when the carwash started and this hottie had totally caught his eye. So freaking built and so fucking beautiful. The kind of face you just want to stroke and kiss and lick and gaze at -- unreal beauty. And the kind of perfect body you could worship all night -- that lean, lithe, hard-carved muscle that always got Matt so damn hard.
Matt could seriously see being with this dude together for a while. A hot, heavy relationship. Something he'd have no problem breaking up with Tea over. Cause he could just feel what he and Blake could have together would be way better than what he and Tea had -- not just sexually, which it already was about a thousand times better than, but more emotionally satisfying, he'd have to say, than what it was like with Tea. Which was pretty fucking thin.
He could easily imagine Blake and he as a couple. They'd do homework over each other's houses most nights, immediately stripping to their sexy underwear, and sitting close as they completed their assignments, kissing and fondling while they worked. Then, homework done, they'd strip off their briefs or jocks and jack to some hot gay porn on Matt's laptop, getting ideas for sexy shit they could try together.
Then a shower together, to clean off the sweat and cum from jacking. Matt loved showering with another dude -- soapy hands playing over hard muscle, smooth ass, and thick cock. Maybe they could shave each other in the shower, then lick smooth balls and slick cracks. Then one would fuck the other, of course. They could dry each other off, stay nude, and have more boy-play in bed.
Sleepovers on weekends, alone together or maybe with a few other hot dudes. Beers and pot and sucking and fucking all night.
And, shit, Matt thought! There was at least a good month and a half of summer weather left! He could take Blake up to his family's lake cabin. They could drive up Friday, spend the night alone, then have some buds join them, maybe, Saturday and Sunday. Blake would love it up there! He could just see them tanning nude together, on the dock or that nice secluded stretch of sandy beach they had, then jacking together, then sucking and fucking. Skinny-dipping, then more fucking. Curling up later together, a hot 69 in front of the big stone fireplace. Fuck, he loved this dude!
Suddenly the truth washed over him in a huge wave. He'd always wanted, he saw it so clearly now, a boy for his lover, his partner; he'd just never found the one that made that truth apparent. And here he was. The truth of the realization filled Matt with an electric excitement.
He couldn't imagine staying with Tea now, even if he could also be together with Blake. And for sure, he couldn't imagine sex with Blake and him and Tea -- or any girl, for that matter. He wanted Blake to himself alone -- and whatever other hot boys they'd share together, of course.
At one point, Matt kissed Blake tenderly. Then he pulled up off of him and got to the floor. He was totally amped at the thought of a relationship with Blake, but too nervous to broach the topic.
"So fucking hot with you, dude! Hey, what say I run down, get us a couple more beers, and we get ready for Round 7 or whatever the fuck number we're up to?"
Matt came back with the beers and a gorgeous, lean-muscled Asian junior from the soccer team, for he and Blake to spit-roast. The Asian boy was so hot-looking: smooth, beautifully built, with gorgeous androgynous looks.
After they each finished about half their beers, Matt turned to the lithe soccer stud and offered him his semi-hard cock.
"Dude, you wanna suck this stud cock while my boyfriend fucks your hot ass?"
"Hell yeah! Two hot studs like you? That'd be awesome, dudes!"
As Matt felt the junior's hot lips on his cock, all he could think of was, " I said 'boyfriend'! It slipped out so naturally! As he relished a very good blow job, made hotter by watching his gorgeous lover delight in fucking hot soccer ass, his thoughts again turned to a future with Blake.
The athletes at St. Sebastian's traveled around in packs, based either on individual stars or teams. So there were the football boys, the wrestling clique, etc. But there was also, say, Matt Stand's posse. Partly, then, what this beginning of the year party was about was the realization that this was the perfect time, if you were unaffiliated yet with a pack (or if you were thinking of upgrading), to audition, to prove yourself worthy. In a sort of X-rated all-male mixer like this, there were two ways you auditioned -- in terms of your charm, your bonhommie, your homieness; as well as your sexual skills, your ability to suck cock, to have a cock boys loved sucking, to throw a mean fuck, to be a hot bottom, to be able to rock boys' worlds in bed.
Matt knew Blake would have easily had a pack by now, had he started at St. Sebastian's earlier. This year, though, definitely, he'll have a pack. Starting in fall, most likely, as soon as they get back. Damn, Matt thought to himself, and the thought made his dick stiffen excitedly, what if Blake and I are a couple this year? Of course, there were no out couples at school, but Matt knew there were a few boys who were pretty fucking tight, even if not many others knew it. But even if we kept our relationship on the down-low, Matt wondered, could we have our own pack? Has there ever in school history, he suddenly wondered, been two boys, a semi-secret couple, with a pack? He'd have to ask Coach.
Fuck! Matt could just instantly fantasize what a pack like that would be like: half of the dudes in their pack just hot, sexy muscle jocks and half the real bad-boys. Fuck, the sex when such a pack got together would be awesome -- like what was happening around them now, the 150-proof version, the extra-gold, the extra-creamy.
After their hot time with the Asian hottie, Blake told Matt he wanted to find his coach. Matt smiled to himself, knowing exactly what Blake had in mind. So they headed back downstairs.
All around them, the scene throughout the house was an ebullient orgy -- raw, lusty, but teeming, too, with an athletic boy's wholesome enthusiasm. So, it was like hard-core gay porn crossed with a high school team's victory party; half giddy jock whooping and horseplay and half Sean Cody shoot. Fucking and sucking and jacking and kissing, plus all the flexing and posing by beautiful young men, each of whom easily held their own amidst a bevy of cut young muscle, and each of whom got off on watching lean muscle pump and big dicks swing. Matt knew the heady, creamy taste of boy-cum was on every dude's lips.
Matt glanced at dude's dicks (his favorite sight) at they strode through the mansion. He felt a throb through his own semi-hard cock as he noticed how many boys sported hard, jutting, delicious-looking wood. There were some boys, Matt knew from experience -- the true studs on each of the teams -- who never went really soft the entire evening: their raging testosterone let them vacillate between rock-hard and semi-hard.
After asking a few dudes, they finally found Coach Daniels. he was secluded in a quiet den, on a big, leather, overstuffed couch, having his huge, hard man-cock sucked by a gorgeous black stud. Blake immediately thrilled to see his Coach hard and in the throes of boy-sex, and the boy having sex with him was Harmon Paris, a freaking gorgeous point guard, one of the sexiest, most built dudes on his team. Blake paused for a minute and just relished the sight of Harmon's full, luscious lips going up and down on Coach's sexy shaft.
Finally Coach noticed him.
"Blake! Hot to see you! And Matt! How about you boys joining us?"
Blake immediately knelt next to Harmon and helped worship his coach's cock with his tongue. His deepest lust-fantasy was suddenly coming true, even better than he'd ever fantasized.
Matt bent next to Harmon and whispered low and hoarse.
"Fuck, dawg, I would love to tap that smoking hot black ass! You feel like some hard, hot, football cock up that tight hole o' yours?"
"Hell yeah I wanna be fucked by the hottest stud in school! Tongue my ass while Blake and I suck Coach!"
Soon, the room was filled with the loud lusty lapping and sucking and moaning of jock-studs and their coach in the throes of male passion. Blake and Harmon were half licking and lapping at their coach's cock, half kissing and tongue-dancing with each other. Harmon, especially, was in heaven, sucking off coach, making out with his team's hot superstar, and having his ass rimmed by the quarterback stud. Every cock in the room was hard and straining.
Soon, Matt was randy and anxious to fuck. He lifted the lean, muscular hottie to his feet and slipped into him from behind.
As he began sliding into the gorgeous stud's tight, warm hole, eliciting a long low moan of delight, he heard Coach Daniels.
"So hot! Blake, come sit on my cock and let's watch those two studs go at it!"
Exactly the words Blake wanted to hear.
Matt grew even harder watching his hot lover work his beautifully muscled body onto his coach's huge hardness, knowing what an exciting rite of passage this was for a young jock stud.
As he pistoned his hips against the beautiful black point guard, he began jacking the dude's long, luscious cock. He leaned close and began kissing the boy's neck. Then he whispered sexily in his ear.
"You know when I'm done fucking I'm gonna want this sweet dark meat up my hot white ass!"
"Oh fuck yes, Matt! My fucking pleasure!"
A half-hour or so later, Matt and Blake were having a beer by the pool, chilling to some soft droning music and watching dudes frolic in the water.
Blake turned to his first-time lover.
"Dude, I gotta ask you something. Did I hear you earlier calling me 'boyfriend'?"
Matt was embarrassed.
"Yeah, well you see it was -- ."
He was tongue-tied. But Blake wasn't.
"Cause that sure as fuck sounded fine to me."
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