Disclaimer:
This is a purely fictional story, but please do let me know if it does turn out to be non-fiction ;-P.
i love to hear from all of you.
xoxo - jasper proseinourdreams@gmail.com proseinourdreams.wordpress.com
p.s. don't forget to donate to nifty! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
< USING TYLER SEGUIN > < entry one >
Spotting Tyler Seguin from across the airport lounge, years after the hockey player had been unceremoniously traded by the Boston Bruins to the Dallas Stars, Rob Gronkowski smirked to himself behind his pint of beer. The kid had grown up; even sitting there in a posh, tailored suit on the lounge chair, Gronk could tell Tyler had bulked up quite a bit, and the younger athlete's demeanor was more subdued, no longer constantly seeking attention or dying to be the center of everything in public. Or drunk all the time.
When they'd first met, the younger athlete was, to put it lightly, obnoxious, even for a wild caveman like Gronk. The then 19-year-old athlete - fresh from winning the Stanley Cup with the Bruins - was baby-faced and partying like there was no tomorrow with all the money to burn. Now look at the kid, Gronk thought to himself, as he keenly observed Tyler's crisp, tailored suit, the slim tie, the swanky, designer shoes, and the fancy carry-on bag. Tyler's wavy, curly brown hair was neatly coiffed, and donning a scruffy beard - something Gronk never though Tyler was at all capable of growing- Tyler's expression was stoic as he played on his phone, a far cry from the wild partying, perpetually shit-faced teenager Gronk had known back in Boston.
It wasn't until Tyler finally looked up from whatever he was immersed in on his phone that Gronk recognized the little party boy veiled in a grown-ass man's body and clothes. Gronk finally caught the 28 year old's twinkling hazel eyes, preceded by a quick flash of fear and panic but immediately followed up by the hockey star's boyish, devilish grin and a playful wink.
Without a word, Gronk pounded the rest of his beer and made his way to the airport lounge's private bathroom to piss. Unloading his full bladder into the toilet, Gronk needn't turn around to see who'd dared come into his private bathroom suite, one he purposefully left unlocked.
"Strip," Gronk ordered, without even turning around to see who had intruded upon his personal space as he continued to piss. He heard a bag drop to the ground and the door shut and lock behind. The sounds of shoes getting kicked off and ruffling of jacket and tie ensued.
Tucking his cock back inside his jeans, Gronk finally turned to face Tyler, staring the 6'1 hockey player down with severity. Tyler, smirking cockily, finished undoing his tie and tossed it at the older athlete with impunity. Peeling off his suit jacket and pulling off his socks, throwing them at the Gronk, daring the 6'6 football star, challenging the muscle giant with arrogance, Tyler stood there, barefoot, as he undid each button painfully slow, never once taking his piercing hazel eyes off of Gronk as he arrogantly followed the older man's command.
Gronk was right. Tyler's twinkish - albeit athletic and toned body - had matured. Still considered slender, especially compared to Gronk's own muscular physique, Tyler's arms were thicker, his pecs fuller, his abs - still as tight and chiseled as ever without a hint of body fat. And that cocky grin... Gronk marched towards the undressing athlete and stared into Tyler's eyes long enough for the twinkle to turn into anxious anticipation. Condescendingly tousling Tyler's coiffed hair into a mess, Gronk suddenly wrapped one of his 10 3/4 hands around the younger athlete's throat. With one motion Gronk tore apart Tyler's half-buttoned shirt, sending the remaining buttons flying across the bathroom.
"UGHN!"
Yes, just like how Gronk had remembered. Tyler's face turned red, his twinkling eyes turned watery, his cocky grin opened into a desperate, gasping gape as both of his hands gripped tightly Gronk's thick forearm. The fiery challenge behind those watering eyes... Gronk reached down with his other hand and tore off Tyler's belt, choking the jock harder as he unzipped and unbuttoned Tyler's trousers. As Tyler's trousers fell to the floor, Gronk roughly felt Tyler's hard cock barely contained inside his Calvin Klein briefs.
"You nasty piece of shit," Gronk spat on Tyler's adorable face as he choked the jock harder, ripping apart Tyler's briefs to the sound of a pathetic puppy yelp and wrapping his large hand around the base of Tyler's hard cock and balls. "You fucking little bitch boy..."
Barely able to breathe or speak, all Tyler could do was gasp for air and whimper. Gronk immediately wrapped his large hand around Tyler's throbbing, nine-inch, cock and began stroking. Hard and fast, with no mercy. All Tyler could do was balance on his bare toes and grip Gronk's forearm tightly for support with his dress pants around his ankles.
Just as Gronk had remembered, Tyler got harder when the hand around his neck got tighter; every time Gronk with spit on his face, Tyler's moans became higher-pitched whimpers. Tyler didn't stand a chance. When Gronk's teeth clasped around his left nipple, biting, chewing, slurping, gnawing without pity or restraint, Tyler screamed from the pain, groaning from the pleasure, and shot ropes and ropes of thick cum - the best orgasm he'd had in eight years - before collapsing in a heap before Gronk's towering figure.
...
"You headed to Dallas?"
"Yah, man... Dude, you ruined my shirt..." Tyler mumbled sheepishly, slightly irritated at what just transpired, as he grabbed his pressed dress pants from the floor. It was covered and soaked with his own cum. "Fuck."
"You're coming with me." Gronk grunted, eying the sweaty Tyler - clad just in an opened button-down shirt - up and down like a piece of meat. His eyes were met by Tyler's devilish grin; undeniable were the terror, apprehension and lust in the younger athlete's eyes. Gronk rifled through Tyler's bag, tossing at Tyler a tank top, gym shorts and a baseball cap. Taking a whiff of Tyler's sneakers, Gronk chucked them at the aghast athlete as well.. "You smell. Let's go."
To be continued...
More on... proseinourdreams.wordpress.com proseinourdreams@gmail.com