From: scoffinator69
Disclaimer: This story is complete and utter fantasy, and should in no way be believed to say anything definitive about the characters involved, their sexual orientation, or their personal desires. It is 100% about the author thinking that this scenario would be fucking HOT. You should also realize by now that in a fantasy world, everyone is always safe from disease and disfigurement. We do not live in a fantasy world, so do with that knowledge what you will.
If you are underage according to your jurisdictions applicable laws (18 or 21 in most cases), please do not read or disseminate this story in anyway.
This story is copyrighted by the author as of 10-30-2017
Constructive input and/or encouragement is welcome at scoffin.2814@gmail.com. Flames will be ignored. I do hope you enjoy this story.
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A Coach's Tale 4: Raven's Wings Clipped
Prologue
It had been a shit week. The flight to the UK, the cracks seeming to form overnight amongst members of the team, the coaches never seeming able to get quite on the same page, the hotel accommodations, the practices at Wembley, everything. Especially the humiliation that was waiting for them at the end. John Harbaugh was furious and embarrassed. The Ravens coach was not used to losing by that kind of a margin. Certainly not to the fucking Jaguars! For fucks sake 44-7 was horrid! And the fact that the dismal performance was pretty evenly distributed among his entire team made it that much worse, and even a bit frightening.
You expect off days among any group this size, you even practice and plan for them. But when every single player is having an off day at the same time, it goes deeper. He couldn't focus his disappointment on any one player, and so was having trouble trying to chart a path forward. Even though part of him knew that this was an aberration, and that his team would not look this bad again for a long time to come, he couldn't figure a way around it right now. Part of that was due to what he was only half watching across the aisle of the plane he was on, and part due to his seat mate's excessive, whining attempts to justify his own horrifically dismal performance.
With just over an hour left before they would begin their descent into Baltimore, he wanted nothing more than to be like the 99 percent of his team and staff that were zoned out under headphones and/or asleep. Instead he was being consistently agitated on two separate fronts. Only one of which he had any desire to be witnessing.
Part 1
Directly across the aisle and one row up from Coach Harbaugh, wide receiver Mike Wallace was lazily, and not too discretely, stroking off. His eight and a half inch cock visibly hard, and visibly being pleasured in a half lazy, half edging type of grip. The 6' black stud was looking in turn from the seats in front of the coach toward the front of the plane where the youngish blond flight attendant sat slack-jawed staring at whatever was happening one row ahead. The coach couldn't quite figure out what was going on, but that had as much to do with the incessant droning coming his way from the window seat beside him. As much as he might want to stand up, take two steps forward, and then drop to his knees in the aisle before sucking Wallace deep into his throat, Harbaugh had let himself slip into something like a trance. It was, he felt, all he could do to allow his quarterback to work through his frustrations from the game. If he hadn't zoned himself out like this, the coach would certainly have ripped Flacco's head off his neck by now. Catching sight of what was so intriguing to Wallace and the flight attendant in the gap between the seats ahead did made it impossible to remain in that zoned out state. In fact, it made the anger and frustration he felt quickly boil over.
There, in front of him, was a head bobbing languidly in the lap of his seat mate. Now that he was regaining focus, Harbaugh was picking up on the muffled sounds of cock being sucked two feet away from him. Short dark haired head moving slowly up and down on an as yet unknown cock. Large dark hand laying on the head, fingers stroking through the hair encouragingly. Barely visible through the gap, he was still able to pick up the motion of hips rising off the seat, assisting in lips meeting pelvic bone. Quiet, grateful moans emanating from the cock suckers mouth, and the barest of whispers from the throat fucker.
"That's it Campo...take it all...fuck yeah."
Even as he was trying to remember who was sitting in front of him, Harbaugh was watching Wallace's eyes move from the scene, up toward the flight attendant, and back again. All the while slowly, and Harbaugh knew now teasingly, stroking his proud black cock. And it was pissing him off like crazy! Nobody on this fucking plane had any kind of a right to pleasure and fun. This was a group of men that had fucked up on the field, and should be beating the shit out of themselves for it. Not sucking cock and teasing some blond hottie of a flight attendant! In a desperate attempt to keep from exploding with rage, Harbaugh stood to get his iPad from the overhead compartment, not even thinking about what he would more clearly be able to see.
But seeing it all was not something he would be spared. From the cheshire grin on Wallace's face as he noticed his coach for the first time, to the drooling gaze of the flight attendant powerless to keep himself from looking at the three men before him. And he certainly was not going to be spared seeing the face fucking right under his nose.
Wide Receiver Coach Bobby Engram was leaning back in his seat, angled with his broad back facing toward the aisle, face down in his lap from the window seat, 5'11" Michael Campanaro was eagerly sucking the stud's cock, bobbing his head hungrily even as his position coach thrust upward with his hips. Engram's pants were around his ankles, allowing him to spread his knees and thighs wide for the player's avid worship. The flight attendant was looking half scared and half turned on at the sights before him, his own hand groping at his still clothed pecker, his eyes flitting between the player servicing his coach, and the other player teasing him knowingly. He was rooted to his spot by both his desire to join in somehow and his fear of being rejected if he did. For his part, John Harbaugh could not remember a time his cock got so completely hard so fast, making an uncomfortable and obvious tent in his khakis. Seven and a half uncut inches straining violently against his zipper.
As the Head Coach stood watching, Engram lifted Campanaro's head up and off his cock, pulling the Wide Receiver's head back with his tightly gripping fingers.
"I'm not sure you deserve this meat, Campo. You had a shit game." breathed Engram.
"I know, coach. Please." choked the Wide Receiver "Please let me have it, please remind me to focus."
Harbaugh caught a glimpse of Campanaro's cock poking out from his open fly, seven dripping, slender inches pulsing along with the man's heartbeat. What really drew the head coach's attention though, was the thick, uncut nine-incher and the bull nuts of his WR coach sprawled half naked under his nose. He watched as Engram roughly pulled Campo back down, impaling the player's throat with coach cock, and grinding his hips upward to meet the smaller mans face in a bruising impact. Looking across the aisle toward Wallace, Harbaugh's anger was ratcheted up another notch or two at the now shit-eating grin (not to mention the knowing look) on the other wide receiver's face.
That ratcheting was bad news for Flacco as his coach slumped back into his seat. The quarterback had had his worst day ever on the field, and he was STILL bitching about other factors for his performance, rather than even thinking about how he might make sure it wouldn't happen again. When Harbaugh registered the 6'6" stud player was now complaining about the officials, he snapped, cutting the QB's voice of with a digging grip into the flesh of the player's neck.
"You completed less than half your attempts, you rushed for negative yards, you let time run out, you looked like a grandma trying to avoid the pass rush, and ten percent of your passes were fucking interceptions, so shut the fuck up about anything except how fucking pathetically you played!"
Had his coach been screaming this, Flacco would have felt much better, the fact that it was all said in a low hissing whisper, the fact that his coach kept the QB's eyes locked with his own, and that his coach's fingers dug deeper and harder into the flesh at the back of his neck served only to terrify the man. When his coach began to rise and move out toward the aisle, the quarterback was powerless to resist, given Harbaugh's grip. Rising awkwardly, Flacco was pulled along by his coach, at once registering clearly everything going on around him, and at once in a strange and fevered daze. He saw clearly Engram fucking Campo's face, Wallace lazily stroking his own exposed cock, Harbaugh's hugely tented trousers, and the confused but obviously horny face of the studly flight attendant who looked near to bursting at what was going on right in front of him. He was also hyper aware of his own state. He could not for the life of him figure out how his cock had gotten hard, but he couldn't feel anything except for the fingers digging into his neck and his slim 8 inches straining uncomfortably in his briefs as he was being dragged along.
Somehow the flight attendant's jaw dropped open even wider as he watched the towering quarterback being dragged into the lavatory by the smaller (and obviously pissed off) coach. He stared blankly at the door long after he heard the click that switched the sign to occupied.
Part 2
He felt something grazing lightly against his jaw line, and then retreating, leaving something like wetness in it's wake. It was on the third pass that he looked to his left and saw the hand loosely gripping the dark shaft of jock meat trailing along his chin and nearing his lower lip. Wrenching his gaze upward, the flight attendant met the lusty gaze of the stud Wide Receiver, Mike Wallace, towering above him.
"Flacco's in for it now. Never seen coach that pissed." the player said matter-of-factly, while tracing his leaking crown along the blond's lower lip. "I think we should make our own fun before they get done, don't you?"
In answer, the flight attendant shifted slightly, and hooked his full lips around the angry looking head of the dark skinned cock. Sliding his face eagerly down to make contact with the big man's groin, tongue flickering like a sex starved reptile along the musky jock shaft. Bringing his hands into play, the blond cupped the wide receiver's nut sack with his right, and brought his left around to rest on the stud's ass, dragging the jock meat deeper still into his unbelieving, but eagerly yielding throat. The oozing pre-cum mingling with the man's sweat and the spit he had been using to ease his stroking drove the flight attendant further into a massive mind fuck of a trip. Intoxicating him with the smell and taste of Grade A jock flesh.
The wide receiver's hand clutching at his skull, guiding him easily through his desperate cock sucking made the flight attendant nearly as giddy as the diminished oxygen resulting from the face fuck did. The murmured encouragements and moans of the muscular black god standing above him, drove him even further along in his desire to give this jock god the best sex of his life. Only to have those desires, those dreams, comes crashing down in the hard yanking away of the man above him.
The flight attendant felt the pang of loss, knowing in a heartbeat that this had all been a tease, and that this jock was now mocking him. The look of fear in his eyes was plain when he gazed upward at the man standing before him.
'You're fuckin' good at that, son." Wallace whispered, smiling down.
Lifting the blond gently up out of his seat, the wide receiver brought a hand under the shorter man's chin, and raised it up. Looking into his eyes, the jock brought his lips closer to the full, slightly parted ones belonging to the flight attendant. The gentleness of the kiss was surprising to the blond. The heat of the big man's caressing hands, were felt even through the smaller man's uniform. Without even realizing it, the 6 foot tall wide receiver had moved the 5'7" flight attendant into the galley area off the aisle, kissing the blond all the while. The smaller man was now eagerly pawing at the big man's clothes, trying to strip the man as much as was allowable. Shirt unbuttoned, and nipple being tongued, Mike Wallace helped the jittering flight attendant to unbutton and drop his pants and boxers. The blond's fingers tracing avidly over the hot flesh of the shaft, thumb tracing circles over the tip of the purple crown.
The flight attendant broke away from the deep kiss of the football player, tracing his tongue along the man's lower lip before gazing upward and begging.
"Please let me suck you again. I need this cock, sir."
Wallace grinned as he loosened his grip and nodded to the pleading man. Loving the look of the smaller man kissing along his chest and abs while he was sinking to his knees. Leaning back against the cabin wall and spreading his legs a bit further, Wallace watched the tight bodied little blond nuzzling at his crotch, sniffing and licking at the flesh he desired. The blond cast his gaze upward as he once again took the thick eight inches of wide receiver cock inside himself. Mike Wallace let himself sink into the passion currently enveloping his over-heated cock. Eyes rolling back in his head and closing involuntarily at the sucking humid warmth of the talented mouth of the flight attendant kneeling before him. The dancing exploring tongue of the blond, bringing him back to the moment on a new and exciting wave, he opened his eyes, looking down at the almost pretty man kneeling before him, worshiping him with full pink lips, searching insistent tongue and vacuuming muscular throat. Fingertips sliding gently over the jock's muscle pumped legs and ass, he laid his hands on each side of the blond's throat, feeling the man swallowing his cock from the outside as well as the in. Languidly moving his own hips toward and away from the smaller man, content to let his cock sucker take the lead for the time being. The flight attendant's rising moans vibrating over every millimeter of flesh buried in his throat. The stud wide receiver tried to hold the flight attendant in place when he rose off the cock, letting it fall free from his lips.
Looking desperately down, Wallace saw the blond scrambling to undo the buttons on his shirt, and his desperate scrambling to undo his belt and open his pants. He also saw the smaller man's pointed pink tongue straining out between his lips as it made wet, insistent contact with the jock's nut sack. The blond's lips parted wide as he inhaled the black stud's balls into his mouth and began laving the tightly drawn flesh with his strong, eager tongue. The wide receiver hand tangled deeper into the blond mane as he let out a prolonged and desperate moan. Letting his head loll back onto the wall behind him, Wallace shifted his heavy lidded gaze to the side, registering the grunting, rutting noises emanating from the lavatory, even as he focused on the scene in the front row seats less than two yards away from him.
Part 3
Bobby Engram had long been aware of the epic sword swallowing skills of Michael Campanaro, and had established a routine of rewarding the tight bodied wide receiver with a deep throat fucking whenever the smaller man showed himself worthy. And while the dismal embarrassment of a game they were now traveling back across the Atlantic from had contained nothing even remotely worthy of reward, the Wide Receiver Coach had to admit that the desperation to apologize and prove himself currently being displayed by Campo had shifted the players already considerable talents into a turbo boosted kind of overdrive that his coach was absolutely fucking loving!
The man sprawled half on the seat, half on the floor, hunched over his coach's lap, impaling himself willingly on the nine thick inches of coach cock, raping his own throat with the black stud shaft on offer was only part of the attraction on display to Engram's gaze. The wide receiver had long since opened his shirt, and was currently yanking at his belt to open his pants enough to allow his coach's hands access inside. The coach was actually taken aback by the stud player's current actions. While Engram knew Campanaro to be an avid and eager cock sucker, the coach usually had to spend considerable energy in getting to the ultimate prize of the wide receiver's jock ass.
Now, though, as soon as Campo had his pants undone and was focused again on worshiping the cock fucking his face, the coach wormed his insistent fingers under the loose waist band of pants and boxer briefs, trailing over toward the deep cleft of the jock's crack. The expected attempts to distract from further anal exploration, however, didn't materialize. Instead, Bobby Engram felt Michael Campanaro shift in toward him further, and simultaneously hike his flanks upward, arching his back to allow his coaches strong, rough fingers easy access to the muscular ass and winking jock cunt they wanted most.
Campanaro himself was surprised by his actions, but was not at all interested in back tracking, or trying to pretend that he didn't want this to happen. His coach had every right to be pissed at him given his performance on the field, and truth be told, the player had a deep and burning need to be given a lesson forcefully. The fact that that lesson would come in the form of this stud coach and on the terms of his fat nine inch cock buried the wide receiver in such a flood of base desire at being used, that his seven throbbing inches were pulsing out globs of pre-cum with every heart beat. Globs that were dripping in long, viscous strands onto the carpet of the plane. Feeling the coach shift above and around him, Campanaro rocketed a guttural moan along the length of cock flesh inside him as two thick, dry fingers jammed themselves deep into the jock's cunt.
Within seconds Engram felt the man servicing him enter another level of need. The stud wide receiver was sucking more insistently on the cock currently raping his jock throat, while he was hunching himself back onto the digging fingers ripping into his ass. The coach wasn't even pissed anymore. The only lesson he was now interested in teaching the jock cunt was to be wary of opening himself up like he was now. He wasn't really worried about that wariness becoming an issue, however. Bobby Engram knew that, by the time they landed, Michael Campanaro would have given himself completely over to a burning need to be used by his stud coach whenever and however the man wanted. He let the servile jock take three more gulping swallows on his cock shaft before he made his move.
Scrambling around quickly, Bobby Engram was behind and above Michael Campanaro before the wide receiver even had time to fully realize the thick coach cock had been ripped from between his lips, and the digging coach fingers had been spread wide and yanked from the depths of his jock cunt. Face down in the warmth of the his coach's suddenly empty seat, the sweaty stud, vibrating with a need that scared him, felt his arms yanked behind him, held in a crushing grip, it wasn't until he tried to shift them into a less painful position that he realized they were immobilized by his own belt, now tying them together. As he felt his pants being yanked down his long muscular legs, his coach's hand clamped over his mouth as the black stud climbed on top of his prone and exposed body. The heat of the coach's drooling cock head pushing commandingly at the pulsing entrance to his jock cunt.
"If you wake anybody up, I will make sure that they all rape your sorry ass before I let you off this plane." Engram growled into his ear, even as he moved his hand away from the jock's mouth.
The coach's strong hands clasped onto the players muscular ass, and pried the glutes apart exposing the pink pucker of his entrance. Campanaro bit into the seat cushion to keep from screaming as his coach's tongue drove into his hole, and worked insistently to deposit coach spit. The jock knew he was lucky to get any kind of lube at all in this situation, but he also knew this wasn't going to be anything like enough to ease what he knew was coming.
Hawking one final wad of saliva onto the jock cunt under him, Engram pulled back and reared up, spreading the muscle ass before him with one massive hand, while aiming his throbbing coach cock with the other, he drove forward. The resistance he normally felt when he sank into Michael Campanaro's jock ass was always a rush, but it was also always eased by copious amounts of lube, and a lot of finger work to get the player ready for him. The squelching friction of sphincter and dry jock cunt greeting his long solid drive inward this time, however, was fucking atomic!
The jock let out an involuntary gasp of a moan as nine thick inches sank harshly inside him, the coach grinned at the fearful clamping of the ass he was raping when the groan caused the sleeping player across the aisle to shift and murmur. Campanaro clenched his entire body tighter as if that would keep the others from waking, from seeing what was going on between coach and player. And Bobby Engram reveled in driving deeper and harder inside this spasming, clutching jock cunt. He had zero desire to remain quiet himself as he slammed forward into the whimpering man beneath him, his flesh slapping against the sweaty flesh he was claiming with his bull cock.
Michael Campanaro was in pain. Sprawled uncomfortably over the arm rest neither man had thought to raise, his pelvic bone being driven into it's barley padded top, achingly hard cock wedged back and down with it's scratchy fabric worrying along the seven inch shaft, and his drooling, sensitive crown being dragged periodically along the seat cushion. His other head, the one he should have been thinking with, being driven into the arm rest on the aisle side with dull, insistent thumps was also not helping.
And still, he was aware of his own grinding motions. Pushing his muscular jock ass back to meet the thrusts of the man driving powerfully, relentlessly into his gaping, desperate jock cunt. Using what little strength was left in his arms to push back against the tearing pressure of nine fat fucking inches grinding it's way in and out of his desperately clutching channel. He could not fucking get enough. The dull awareness of his physical pain was over-ridden by his need to have this black stud cock pounding him into oblivion forever and ever, A-FUCKING-MEN! The prayerful statements imprinting themselves on his brain were alien, and yet one hundred percent exactly what he was thinking. So much so, in fact, that it took several minutes for the desperately needful wide receiver to register them as his coach's words.
"This is what you have always been. Right here, right now you are finally letting your destiny be fulfilled. You are nothing but a jock cunt to be used. A tight muscular piece of flesh whose only purpose is to be bred by a man. You will never be able to get enough of this now. You will always be aching for cock. When you have one inside your cunt, you will be desperate for it to never end. When you don't have one inside you, you will not be able to think of anything else. If this new self you are becoming fucks up your playing, you will be lost. Because you will never get this cock again, and you know you can't live without it now."
And he did. Michael Campanaro needed this now more than anything he had ever needed before. He desperately needed for this man now fucking him deep and hard to want to do it again. To want to do it over and over and over. He needed this stud coach to be as eager to claim his jock cunt and he was to give it up to him. Even as he was swelling with a twistedly submissive pride at the knowledge of his true self, he felt his other head swelling, and knew he was not going to be able to hold anything back.
Twisting his head to the side, and craning to look at the man using him, he acknowledged his place.
"Yes. Please don't ever stop." he begged, "I need to cum. Please, coach...let me cum?" A slight nod from his coach was all it took, he didn't even have time to fully register the assent before his jock cum was pulsing from his cock. Great throbbing blasts of wide receiver sperm shooting from his angry red and achingly hard cock. Pouring forth onto the cushion of the seat under him. Rocketing out of him even as he wondered where it was all coming from. And then he felt the swelling pressure inside him.
Bobby Engram felt the clutching of his new jock bitch piece of ass as the wide receiver's cum was fucked out of him. Rearing up, he dug his hands deeper and harder into the muscular glutes he was slamming into. Three more long shafting drives into the receptive jock cunt under him, pulling out fully each time, and driving instinctively back into the gaping, winking ass, a fourth and fifth pile-driving stroke, shallower, but no less demanding. And then, hunching back forward, sinking teeth hard into the muscular shoulder, he made one last power drive inward, impaling the man beneath him as his cock shaft and crown swelled impossibly thicker, flaring wide as a cobra's head inside the jock cunt that now belonged to him, and dumped his load into the gasping, whimpering man beneath him. Seven full, pulsing blasts of coach cum spewing into ravaged but still eager jock cunt. The coppery taste of his jock bottom's blood on his tongue mingled with the bleachy, alkaline smell of stud cum as it spewed from the two men's cocks. One load anointing the seat under him, the other breeding jock cunt full to overflowing.
Watching the end of the scene from feet away, Mike Wallace looked down into his cocksucker's eyes and smiled. A smile that widened as the blond flight attendant managed his own grin while already stretched wide by the thick eight and a half inches he was currently nursing. A grin that turned still lustier at the noises thudding from behind the door of the lavatory just across from them.
Part 4
Mike Wallace's attention was drawn back to the flight attendant as the blond's lips let the wide receiver's cock free, and he began to rise. The little hottie was kissing his way up the body of the muscular jock god, paying homage to the stud's abs, navel, pecs and nipples before letting his tongue trace along the stubbled jawline and upward toward his lips. Kissing the dark skinned, nearly naked god before him, the blond made a request.
"We have a little over half an hour before we have to get ready to land. Please spend that time fucking me, sir."
"An ass a sweet as yours deserves to be eaten for at least five, that gonna be OK?" came the jock stud's reply.
"Fuck, yes!"
Even as the flight attendant kicked off a shoe, and struggled to free his leg from the pants now dangling below his knees, Mike Wallace cupped his massive black hands onto the smooth pale flesh of the boys ass and lifted him up. The flight attendant gave up in his attempts to free his other leg, as this jock god leaned into kiss him again. Resting the blond gently on the narrow galley counter, and moving steadily between the boy's spread thighs, the lovers giggled into each others mouths as a particularly threatening series of thuds from the lavatory were punctuated by a pained gasp of 'oh fuck!'
Wallace broke the kiss, and began snaking his strong and insistent tongue down the younger man's body as he lowered himself into a crouch spreading the blond's cheeks, finding there a delicate dusting of fine golden fuzz. His tongues first contact with the winking pink hole brought forth a gasping "Oh, shiiiiiiiiit" that harmonized with the one now audible through the door of the lavatory.
Inside the cramped space, Joe Flacco had somehow had his 6'6" frame stripped and manipulated into a straining crouch, ass up as his head was forced repeatedly onto his head coach's thick seven and a half inch cock. While initially shocked and resistant, Flacco was quickly broken to Harbaugh's demands as the stud coach laid the ground rules quickly and consistently.
Having let flow with a long litany, stated matter-of-factly, of the quarterback's many unforced errors from this today's game, beginning the minute the coach rammed his cock into the players resisting throat, the coach laid it all out point by point, belying his horniness of the moment. And slowly, steadily, Flacco listened to his coach even while struggling against the surprisingly strong grip of the smaller, older man. The more his coach talked, and the longer the quarterback listened, the more the jock knew that coach was right, and the more fight receded from Flacco's brain. By the time his coach's words trailed off into gasping punctuation of deep throating fuck strokes, the stud quarterback was not only eagerly and subserviently sucking all of Harbaugh's cock into his hungry throat, but also flowing his pre-cum freely onto the lavatory floor. It had been a while since these two men had messed around together, and usually it had been more of a mutual desire to reward or thank the other. But this...the charging, sexual punishment of the stud super bowl champion quarterback by his stud super bowl champion coach brought an unexpected level of intimacy to the moment.
The coach calmed his ravaging of his QB's humid throat, but even so maintained control of the situation, letting Flacco know by both subtle and unsubtle means when he was satisfied with the jock's oral attentions. Kicking the cock sucker back into gear as needed with stinging, forceful smacks on the pale smooth skin of the upturned jock ass. Each smack was followed by an eager and attentive deep throating by the stud QB, who was quickly finding himself intoxicated by the smell of his coach's sweaty pubes, and the taste of his copious pre-cum. The essence of John Harbaugh flowing onto his tongue drove Joe Flacco to occasional distraction. That distraction bringing another stinging spank to an ass the quarterback realized must be showing red at this point. After nearly ten minutes of avid cock sucking, Flacco felt Harbaugh's big nuts contracting toward the base of his cock, and the quarterback hoped he would soon taste the man's seed.
Still, a part of him knew that he was not going to get off that easy, and another part wasn't sure he wanted to get off that easy anyway. Even as demanding (and nearly total) a top as he was, there was that rarely felt itch in play now. The itch that told him right here, right now, he wanted nothing more than to have his ass hammered. The itch that reminded him how fucking good it felt...even the first blast of pain...when a hard cock claimed his jock cunt. The thought was still running in his mind even as he was yanked upward and twisted around and away from his coach.
Outside, in the plane's cramped galley area, Mike Wallace was crouched before a very grateful flight attendant, the stud wide receiver's tongue drilling deeply into the quivering ass of the precariously perched blond. The young man was convinced that this stud football god could coax his load out simply by doing this for another few minutes. And as desperately as the young man wanted this man's thick black cock pounding into him, he couldn't quite make himself tear the black god's tongue away from his clutching sphincter. The man's long ball handling fingers were now handling his balls, and the wide receiver's thumbs were playing along the ridges, and inching into the blond's ass along side this deep fucking tongue.
As Wallace realized how tightly gathered the flight attendants nuts were at the base of his shaft, he knew he needed to move into the last long slide of lovemaking. Keeping his hands in place around the boy's balls, and his thumbs alternating with staccato penetrations of the tight but eager sphincter now vacated by his tongue, the wide receiver began to rise, letting his tongue snake over the exposed flesh of his lover's nut sack, and up along the slim, smooth, and achingly hard shaft of the blond's six inch cock.
A long double swirl of tongue around the crown as he latched his lips just beyond the ridge of the boy's crown nearly brought a massive load spewing onto Wallace's tongue, and while the wide receiver would have loved tasting that, he knew it would be better if he was actually fucking the load out of the blond. Kissing his way further up, his lips and tongue met those of the flight attendant at the same time as the leaking crown of his powerful cock made first contact with the boy's ass. The broadly flared purple tinted head making swirling motions around the very rim of the entry., pulling back slightly from the kiss and looking into the blond's eyes, Wallace whispered for him to relax even as he gently slid forward. Eight and a half inches of hard black jock muscle slipping inside, opening the young ass gently but relentlessly.
A slow, steady, intoxicating motion forward until the stud wide receiver felt his over-heated balls come to rest against the flight attendant's softly downed skin. The two men exhaled tandem sighs into each others mouth as they regained the deep, passionate kiss they both desperately wanted. The blond's right hand was occupied with securing his precarious perch on the galley counter, so he began to tentatively move his left toward his aching shaft, only to have it intercepted by the wide receiver's bigger paw. Wallace swiped his strong tongue along the flight attendants damp, sweetly musky pit before moving toward his bottom's ear.
"You know I'm gonna do right by you, baby...you just let me worry about getting us both off." The stud wide receiver whispered into the blond's ear as he nipped the tender flesh of the lobe.
Letting himself sink into the enveloping and welcome invasion of his body, the flight attendant brought his left hand to rest on the rock hard muscles of his stud's shoulder, and trailed along down toward the big man's lower back as he let out a long, whimpering moan of gratitude for the desire of the man now making love to him.
Part 5
Inside the lavatory, Joe Flacco's hands were pressed flat against the mirror over the sink, arms locked to hold himself steady against the assault he knew was coming. John Harbaugh had risen from the toilet seat as much as possible behind his quarterback, half amazed that the towering man could fold himself that way in the cramped quarters they now occupied, and half amazed that he was just millimeters away from entering the tight jock ass open and inviting before him. This would not be the first time the coach had fucked the quarterback, hell it might not even be in the first twenty times, but the rutting atmosphere choking the air of the cramped space they were tangled in reminded both of them that they had never shared a fuck quite like this before.
Flacco bent and spread his knees like he was going to play a round of leap frog. The required shift back of his muscular ass closed the last millimeters of space between two desperate points of flesh. The quarterback felt the broad head of his coach pressing against his sphincter. The coach felt his quarterback's ass quiver open and push back, even as he pushed forward. Seven and a half inches of coach cock speared balls deep into the tight ass of the twisted, crouching 6'6" stud player. The rutting was instantaneous. Two muscular men setting their bodies in unified motion with now aim other than to fuck and be fucked. Rough, strong coach's hands resting on and digging into the tensed muscular flesh of quarterback ass. Long, lean muscled quarterback thighs tensing against the insistent assault, even as long, leanly muscled quarterback arms pushed back against the mirror to meet against the pounding drives now drilling up into him.
Flacco held his head steady, looking directly into his coach's eyes through the mirror, the two men just staring and grunting at each other as they pounded their bodies together in a desperate and thrilling rut.
"Fuck, coach...fuckin' punish that sorry ass!" Flacco gasped out, barely more than a whisper "Use my worthless jock cunt like it deserves to be used. I fucked up big time today! Please!"
"Your sorry cunt doesn't deserve this cock you fuckin' worthless slacker!"
THWACK!
"You weren't even able to fuck up big time today. You were nothing more than a pathetic piece of jock cunt out on the field."
THWACK!
"I'm surprised you didn't just drop trou and grab your fuckin' ankles to let the entire Jags defense to tag team your sorry ass!"
THWACK!
"And if you don't whip your worthless cunt into shape RIGHT. FUCKING. NOW. This is the last time you will ever get this cock up your ass!
THWACK!
Driving his cock painfully and deeply into his quarterback's tight cunt, Harbaugh knew he wouldn't last long, knew it was only a matter of a few more strokes before he would blast a geyser of coach seed deep into Flacco's needy, sorry ass. Especially as each punctuating smack on the stud's exposed ass triggered a desperate clutching deep in the quarterback's bowels as if they were trying to snap the coach's cock clean off. And still Flacco was pressing himself firmly back, pushing in desperation to meet Harbaugh's punishing thrusts head on
The whimpering moans and whispered endearments being exchanged between the two me in the galley had increased in pitch and intensity. The blond flight attendant, legs now wrapped around the lower back of the stud wide receiver currently claiming his willing ass, left arm holding tight along the shoulder, and around the back of his top's neck, caught the big man's lower lip between gently nipping teeth, capable now of only two things. Breathing in through shallow gasps, and begging 'please don't stop' over and over again. Drunk and high on the steady, driving thrusts of the thick black shaft pummeling his prostate with radar guided accuracy. His painfully stretched cock pulsing out a stream of pre-cum with each grinding contact of cock flesh to butt nut. Desperate to cum, but desperate for this to never end, he held on to the muscular, god-like jock who was giving him the fuck of his life.
Wallace knew from experience that his bottom was nearly there, and that he would not be able to hold back even if he tried. He also knew that the first clamping grip of the blond's orgasm would drive him over the edge too, and would unleash a torrent of jock stud sperm from his balls. He tried to delay things as much as possible, gripping tight around the base of the smaller man's cock and balls to choke things back for a few precious minutes more. This boys clamping muscular channel felt too fucking good to not fuck it as long as he possibly could. The pleading moans being breathed out along his lower lip, chin and jawline were conspiring to drive the wide receiver to greater and greater heights of lust even as his deep, powerful thrusts into the furnace-like confines of the boys ass degraded his previously loving fuck-thrusts into an erratic and driving rut. Slamming his pelvis harder and harder against the blonds bruised ass, Mike Wallace reclaimed the boys lips with his own, conquering the flight attendant's tongue with forceful thrusts from his more muscular appendage. Both men knew that it was now, very nearly a lost cause.
So did the men in the lavatory. Harbaugh looked down at the flesh of his quarterback's muscular ass and saw only the angry, deep purplish red marks he had smacked onto them. He looked up and locked eyes with Flacco's in the mirror, seeing only a face twisted in the impending silent scream of orgasm. The two men were still rutting hard into each other, bone and flesh slapping against each other in woefully unforgiving need.
Flacco jerked upward, straightening reflexively, only to smack into the ceiling of the lavatory, right hand gripping his aching, slender eight incher tight and making barely two full strokes before his seed burst forth. Three powerful shots spraying the mirror in front of him, another two pouring forth into the sink basin, and another two being forced out by the first swelling shot of his coach's cum flooding into his ravaged, aching jock cunt.
Harbaugh's cock was wrenched painfully tight inside Flacco's ass as the big man lurched upright at the exact moment Harbaugh was feeling his orgasm ready itself for release. The weird, clutching angle of quarterback sphincter choking any possible flow off dangerously, making the coach wonder, fleetingly, if his cum would instead burst out his ruptured nut sack. Better than that, was the almost painful increasing of pressure in his balls as his cum tried to force through the barrier. And then did...Rocketing five massive pulsing shots of coach cum deep inside ravaged jock cunt, flooding quarterback ass to overflowing. The men now gasping together, joined by cock and ass, by sweaty hairy chest pressed against smooth sweaty back. Sucking in deep gulps of air as their heart rates returned to something like normal.
Mike Wallace broke the deep kiss he was sharing with the flight attendant, and stood straight up, looking deep into his bottom boys eyes. The stud wide receiver saw the inevitability of the impending orgasm in the blond's pleading eyes, and arched himself forward in an impossible curve. Index fingers lifting the six inch shaft upward, the jock opened his mouth and extended his tongue, clamping his lips around the crown of the boy's cock, and swirling his tongue around the angry red flesh of the cock head. He continued thrusting inward as deeply as he could, willing the blond to cum as he continued fucking. The flight attendants eye's were as wide as saucers at the sight and feel of this big jock studs lips wrapped around and sucking his cock head, even as he continued laying claim to his ass.
"Gonna...gonna, fuck...oh fuck, cumming!"
The first rich, salty blast of blond cum poured forth onto the cock sucking wide receiver's tongue, and he was grateful. Letting the tasty load slide down his throat into his hungry belly even as more pulsing contractions sent more tasty cum into his still sucking mouth. When his first blast could be held off no longer, Wallace let the cock in his mouth go, and stood to pound deep inside the flight attendant's quivering ass. Blasting six powerful shot's of cum into his bottom, even as two more smaller shots of cum spewed from the tip of the blond's six incher and onto his abs. Enveloped in the last shuddering pangs of fuck lust, the two met in a passionate kiss, the flight attendant trying to imprint every possible touch onto his memory for future bate sessions. The wide receiver pulled reluctantly out of the warm, wet and still tight ass to lean back against the wall.
Glancing at his watch, he said, "5 minutes left...we have time to exchange digits and get dressed."
"You...you want my number, and wanna give me yours?"
"Fuck yeah baby...I am gonna need several more months, at least, of rimming before my tongue gets tired of your sweet bussy. Not too mention how much my cock still wanna hit that."
Wide receiver and flight attendant were fully dressed, and just finishing plugging contact info into each others phones when Flacco came slouching gingerly out of the lavatory, followed quickly by Harbaugh. The quarterback was suddenly sheepish at being caught by his wide receiver, and was almost infuriated at the sight of his coach's cheeky grin. Harbaugh's grin only widened as Wallace planted a deep, but brief kiss on the flight attendants lips, and all four men moved to their seats seconds before the captain announced their impending landing.