NFL playoffs 2014 (part 3)
Disclaimer: This story is fiction and is not intended to imply anything about the true sexuality of the celebrities mentioned or any personal knowledge about their private lives.
Know I missed the GB-SF game...sorry but been real busy. I'll try to circle back later and get some of those studs. For now - enjoy these two.
NFC Semifinal - Saints vs. Seahawks - Seattle, WA
Kenny Stills heard them before he saw them.
The Saints wide receiver was morose as he walked slowly through the underbelly of the Seahawks' stadium, the jubilant noise of the crowd still ringing in his ears even though most of them had already spilled onto the streets of Seattle. Predictably, the Seahawks had sent his Saints packing. The rookie receiver had long since showered and cleaned up, and was headed for the exit dressed in a simple gray jacket, t-shirt, and jeans -- nobody to show off for tonight. He was now off-season Kenny. He was just starting to think about how he'd spend this last night of his premiere NFL season when he heard it.
"FUCK yeah..."
The young receiver immediately understood what he was hearing. After all, this was a 21-year-old kid just out of college in Oklahoma, where football players were on par with Jesus in the estimation of the student body. Usually it was young women that Kenny heard expressing that kind of enjoyment -- at least in person. Recently he'd been exploring other avenues in his time online, but that wasn't something he liked to talk about with the guys...or anybody else.
Still, as the dude groaned again, Kenny felt his cock stir under his jeans. He looked at the doorway it was coming from. A big Seahawks logo was plastered above the entrance. He started to smile. No shit...
Partly cause he figured he had nothing to lose, and partly cause it was just the kind of guy Kenny Stills was -- he opened the unlocked door and went in.
The sounds of pleasure emanating from within the Seahawks locker room hadn't died away, and in fact Kenny started to hear a second voice. He'd kind of suspected it all along, but he grinned wider as he realized that this wasn't some Seattle stud who'd snuck in his lady friend to fuck her in the locker room...no, those were two dudes' voices, clear as day. "Fuck, you're tight today, bro," came the second voice, loud and clear now.
Well, Kenny figured, they ain't worried about being heard, I ain't worried about being seen. He stepped into view.
Russell Wilson looked up first. The Seattle quarterback's body was bare, and he looked even more impressive than he did on the field. Wilson was bulky for a QB, not quite 6-foot but carrying well over 200 pounds on that powerful frame. Wilson's skin glistened light brown with a sheen of sweat, and his hair was damp and matted against his forehead. The QB's pecs and abdominals pulled tight as he drove his body forward, relaxed as he drew his hips back for another go. His arms looked fucking incredible, swelling with power as they held the massive figure in front of him steady.
"The fuck do you want?" he said nonchalantly, his tone making it clear he wasn't embarrassed in the slightest. And at that, the other guy looked up too.
"Oh, fuck." Golden Tate's voice carried a little more of that shock and shame that Kenny would have expected to hear. Then again, the hard-muscled receiver was the one bent over getting roughly fucked by his handsome quarterback. And with the full, rock-hard 8-plus inches of dick throbbing up between Tate's legs, the guy couldn't exactly deny he was enjoying it. In fact, as Kenny searched for an answer, Tate ducked his head again and resumed silently taking Russell Wilson's steady fuck, breathing shallowly, his own impressively muscled body shuddering with every thrust.
"I, uh...I just heard you in the hall..."
"Yeah, and?" Wilson sounded impatient. "Can I help you with something?" ("Jesus fuck..." Golden Tate was groaning beneath him as Wilson picked up the pace, his frustration with this interruption mounting and translating into a harder, deeper fuck.)
"And..." And I wish it was me you were fucking. "I just wanted..." To get fucking pounded.
Russell Wilson's expression softened as he instantly recognized what was going on. This poor fucker. Kid probably got as much pussy as he wanted all through college and it's only just now he's realizing what he really wanted all along was hard muscle and thick cock. Fact, this boy's probably the closest thing to a fuckin' twink in the whole goddamn NFL -- what's he, 5'10, maybe 195 max? There's kickers bigger'n him.
"Look, bro, I'm kinda busy, but why don't you start off with my man here -- feels like he needs some relief bad..." To drive home his point, Wilson let his bulky arm reach around Golden Tate's midsection to wrap around the receiver's aching-hard prick, making Tate moan as Wilson squeezed his fingers up its length.
Kenny froze. He couldn't deny his own cock was now throbbing into his jeans, and when had he pulled off his jacket and started groping himself through his pants? But if he was gonna do this, he wanted the real thing... "I'm not...man, I ain't --"
"Man, suck my goddamn cock," growled Golden Tate, glaring at the Saints wideout. Kenny sputtered -- it took some fuckin' gall for a guy with his own quarterback's hard prick buried in his ass to try to be hard with him.
But actually, he was already on his knees.
"Unnghh fuck bro, you oughta feel this mother fucker..." Tate groaned as Kenny took him four inches deep, then six, choking himself on that fat NFL dick. "This can't be yo' first time, brother!"
"Mmm-hmm," Kenny answered. God, it was everything he'd fuckin' hoped for and more. The rookie receiver could already tell that from now on, whenever he didn't have a hard pro jock dick planted down his throat, he'd be looking forward to the next time he could put one there. Tate's cock was steel-hard between his lips, hot, thick, wet....just fucking perfect.
When Wilson finally fucked a thick load of cream out of Golden Tate ten minutes later, Kenny Stills didn't miss a goddamn drop. Shouda known with those thick dick-sucking lips the kid's got on him, Russell thought, the QB's own cock now itching to drive into that tight cherry.
And an hour after that, as Kenny was tugging his tight briefs and jeans back on, his mind spinning, feeling damn near drunk from his first hard fuck, he turned to Wilson, still breathing hard. "You ain't gonna...tell anybody about this, right?"
Wilson looked over at Tate, the two Seahawks sharing a grin, then turned back to Kenny. "Don't worry, kid. We'll take good care a' you." Then he looked down at his phone, selecting the video of Kenny Stills' sex-wrecked face, lips curled in pleasure as Russell Wilson fucked him for the first time, then panning down over Kenny's hard body and hard cock bouncing against his abs to where Russell's incredibly thick cock slid hungrily in and out of that formerly tight hole. He selected Jimmy Graham's number, and hit send.
AFC Semifinal - Colts vs. Patriots - Foxborough, MA
It was quickly understood between the three of them with nothing more than a look. They knew they all felt the same way: it wasn't like they were disappointed. Far from it, hell, they'd just earned a spot in the AFC title game, a chance to compete for a Super Bowl ring, who wouldn't be excited about that? But they knew what all the stories would say the next day: "Pats Run Over Indy". "Blount Force Trauma". Six New England touchdowns, all six on the run. And although the Patriots' receivers had played their part, they couldn't help feeling a little unfulfilled.
Or maybe just a little un...filled.
"Man, I need to get fucked tonight," murmured Danny Amendola. He was pulling his jock off, his handsome 7-inch prick spilling out half-hard. He squirmed a little as he undressed, his hand running over the underside of his balls. The ripped little wideout had a look on his handsome face that was vaguely unsatisfied.
Julian Edelman was wearing a similar expression as he took off his jersey and pads, revealing the muscular body bulging into his under-armour beneath. "Careful where you say that, Dan-o. Might just get your wish." Edelman massaged his own bare muscle ass. "Not to say I don't feel you..."
Austin Collie, newly picked up for the Patriots' playoff run, was a little more jazzed after having played a small part in beating his former team. Most of all he was happy just to feel relevant again. Collie was still a pretty face and even prettier body, but after the injury troubles he'd been through, his features had taken on a harder look, more man than the boy he'd been. Still, he wouldn't have minded a nice, deep fuck either. He'd first turned to guys in the years after the Colts cut him -- it just hadn't been the same with his wife after that, and the only ones who really seemed to understand were other football players. Sympathetic chats at the bar turned into rough, sweaty fucks in the hotel room upstairs, and before long Austin Collie was a committed horndog for dick.
"I know it ain't really my place," Collie said, pulling on a pair of shorts over his own mostly-hard 8-inch shaft and over-swollen balls. "But what'd be the harm in asking around, seeing if somebody might wanna...?"
Danny looked at his new teammate with a skeptical smile. "So we're gonna get somebody -- somebody in this very locker room -- to take the three of us back to his place, fuck us one at a time, the other guys just sitting there with his hand around his dick and rubbing his tight hole waiting to get plowed, and at the end of it just call it a night and go home?"
Edelman looked over in silence. Collie shrugged. "Yeah, basically."
A broad grin spread over Danny Amendola's face.
"So who exactly are we talking about here?" Edelman said, feigning skepticism but already feeling his own cock swelling under his sweatpants.
"Well," Collie started, glancing around the locker room. His eyes quickly fixed on one man, normally the center of gravity in New England, the object of all the reporters' and cameras' attention, but tonight perhaps the only man who might have felt a little underappreciated himself. "I've always wondered about Brady."
Now Julian Edelman was grinning too. "I'll get my coat."
Rob Ninkovich hadn't waited to leave the stadium before he got started -- he had a wager to cash in on. And when the note was passed to Adam Vinatieri as he changed in the Colts locker room, his face sank. He didn't mind giving himself up...he just felt bad for his boys, the special teams guys he'd slowly introduced to the pleasures of jock-fucking. He figured they were in for a rude awakening.
And how.
Pat McAfee, for once, made no noise at all as Pats corner Alfonzo Dennard drove his thick snake inside him in one thrust. Dennard had a nice game, his early interception setting the tone, and he was amped to help settle the score with these upstart Colts. And this cute little blond punter's ass was gonna do just the trick. "Fuck, nice an' tight, shit." Dennard grabbed McAfee's hip with one hand, holding the dude steady as he got comfortable, then ran the other hand over his own jacked stomach as he accelerated, fucking McAfee harder and deeper, his cock seeming to swell fuller as he kept pumping into the Colt stud's tight hole.
And as Adam turned his head lazily to look to the other side, he saw Griff Whalen seemed to be taking it OK too. In fact, was that a hint of a smile on the handsome 23-year-old kid's face as he felt Dane Fletcher steadily fucking him from behind?
"Fuck!" Griff groaned.
OK, maybe not. That sounded painful. But fuck, the brown-haired receiver out of Stanford looked amazing there with his legs spread wide, his round ass in the air, his beautifully muscled chest and stomach clenching as the Patriot linebacker fucked him. And hell, he can't be hating it too much, Adam thought as he caught sight of Whalen's own cock, rising 9 full inches up the kid's belly, the rock-hard shaft and leaking crown grinding against his abs as he rocked back onto Fletcher's invading prick.
And Adam was paying his debt too.
"God...fuck yeah..." The veteran kicker looked down to see his cock drooling onto his abs. God, this guy was good. His eyes flicked up. Ninkovich was fucking him almost effortlessly, grinning down at Vinatieri through that scruffy beard. That smile, shit. Ninko could almost be called cute if he weren't 6-foot-3, 260 pounds of powerfucking muscle. "You know how to fuck, dude," Vinatieri grunted. He reached up and ran his palms over the huge Patriot's chest.
"Yeah? Well, heard you know how to take a hard fuck," Rob returned with another smile.
"Unnghh!" came a moan from the corner. Fletcher had flipped Griff Whalen on his back and was pounding the kid hard now.
"More'n I can say...for some of your friends..." Ninkovich said, long-dicking Vinatieri's tight ass now.
"It's his first time," Adam explained, sliding his hands back to run over his own achingly-hard dick, feeling the precome-slick head. "And looks like Fletcher's about to pop."
No sooner had he said it than the linebacker groaned and shoved his dick deep one last time, exploding into Whalen's cherry jock ass. It wasn't all bad for the kid though -- Griff was coming too, his cock pumping ropes of cream all over his abs and chest, the biggest load he'd ever fucking shot.
Adam hadn't even noticed but Pat McAfee had already come too, all over the bed that Dennard had fucked him into, and the two NFLers were, oddly enough, kissing slow and deep. Wouldn'ta pegged that couple...he thought, but in his experience of doing this for damn near 20 years now, Adam Vinatieri had been constantly surprised by what pro jocks went for. With a few exceptions -- Brady steadily, reliably, year after year, fucked the prettiest studs on the team.
"Guess we better wrap up too, huh, bud?" For Adam it was almost a game. At 41, Vinatieri was having the best sex of his life. He could come thick spurts of jizz right now, or he could hold off another hour. The perfect fuckin' bottom, one of his buddies had called him once, which made the married father of two chuckle. Now he looked up at Ninkovich, grasping his dick, teetering on the edge.
"I don't think the bet said I fuck you only once..." the big defenseman said with a wink, then let his eyes shut as he came hard into Adam Vinatieri.
To nobody's surprise, Tom Brady had been down with the idea.
The New England QB started by properly welcoming the three receivers to one of his pads in Boston -- a favorite, overlooking the river, essentially a secret penthouse with a private garage that only a couple of the building manager's senior execs knew about, even Giselfoodler.com e was not privy. Brady was a softie in some ways -- he legitimately felt close to his guys and didn't want em to feel like this was a fuck and run. So Edelman, who'd been hooking up with his QB since 2009, wasn't surprised when Brady started by leaning in and kissing him slowly, running his hands from Julian's neck down over his hard body under his Patriots t-shirt. Then Danny -- Tom smiled gently at his star receiver, then took Danny's head in one hand and pulled him in, loving the feel of Danny's warm lips on his, Danny's scruffy jaw rubbing against Tom's own. Finally, he reached Austin.
"God, you're pretty," Tom murmured, looking into Austin Collie's bright blue eyes. For his part, Austin was trying to fathom that Tom Brady -- object of fifty million girls' fantasies, paragon and idol for fifty million guys -- could possibly be interested in him. His teammates had come to realize that Austin hadn't been screwing around with guys long enough to figure out just how fucking hot he was. Not to mention that modesty that seemed hard-wired into Mormon dudes.
For now, Austin smiled nervously. Brady seemed to sense his reluctance; this wasn't the first time a guy had felt inadequate next to one of the greatest quarterbacks of his generation. Tom smiled again, then took Austin's hand and pulled it forward, letting Austin's fingers feel Tom's hard-on in his jeans, letting Austin curl his grip around Tom's hard cock. He met Austin's eyes again. "That's for you, bro. I'm rock hard for you, Austin."
Austin Collie breathed out shallowly, his blue eyes fixed on Brady's. He tried to process what Tom Brady had just said, the same voice that gave manly inspirational speeches in pre-game huddles, that confidently explained passing routes and charmingly deflected questions about his super-model wife, was now saying he was hard for his new teammate. "Fuck," Austin whispered, then kissed Tom Brady hard. Tom's hands quickly found Austin's own firm dick, rising handsomely into his navy Patriots track pants, then slipped under the waistband and grabbed Austin's cock tightly, feeling out the receiver's hard, hot length. Brady's other hand had snuck under Collie's hoodie and t-shirt and the quarterback was hungrily running his palm and fingers over Collie's firmly muscled midsection and broad, smooth pecs, loving the heat emanating from Austin's body, the way Austin tensed under his touch.
Moments later, Tom pulled away, catching Austin's eyes again. He smiled. "Be right back."
Brady fucked Danny Amendola first. Tom's cock felt as good sliding into Danny's tight chute now as it had the first time, the Italian stud's handsome features twisting in pleasure as Brady eased himself deeper. Danny arched his back, his cobblestone abs rising into prominence as he lifted his round ass up to meet Tom's thrusts. "God, you feel good, Danny..." Brady's hands ran uncontrollably over Amendola's muscular torso, tweaking Danny's nips, making Danny squirm.
"Fuck me, dude..." Danny Amendola breathed. A few feet away, Edelman had pulled off his shirt and his hand was shoved in his shorts, stroking his prick steadily, watching Danny get boned. Collie was even harder; the blond, square-jawed receiver's dick had actually started leaking into his pants, his palm slicking with pre-come.
Brady was already speeding up, now fucking Danny with firm, quick, deep strokes. The wideout reached for his cock but Brady grabbed it first, squeezing it tight at the base, then sliding his fist slowly up Danny's 8.5-inch spike, till he reached just below the wide mushroom head of Danny Amendola's cock. "What...unghh, fuck...what are you..." Danny sputtered; a pearl of pre-come formed at the crown of his gorgeous prick, then another pushed that one out, spilling down the side of his cockhead, and soon there was a steady flow of clear honey streaming from Amendola's dark red crown. In ecstasy, or in desperation, Danny grabbed the back of the bed. His arms swelled with power as he held on. His jaw dropped open.
"Fuck," Julian Edelman whispered, licking his upper lip. He was still jerking himself hard but he'd shoved off his shorts, Edelman's stiff, veined 7-incher aching freely into the air. His other hand had moved down between his legs, and the leading receiver for the New England Patriots was now obviously stroking and massaging his tight asshole. Beside him, Collie had forced himself to let go, his pants tugged to his ankles and his cock straining angrily into his black trunks, a wet spot spreading across the front. Austin had long since lost the hoodie and his hands were now on his own stomach, gripping his abs tight.
"Unghh...fuck..." Danny was on the verge.
"Fuck him, bro," Edelman urged.
"Come for me, Dan," Brady whispered, then let his hand spring into action, pumping quickly one-two-three over the underside of the sensitive tip, then Danny Amendola was coming all over his stomach and chest, jizz fucking fountaining from his cock, every muscle in his body swelling and bulging as Tom Brady fucked his load out of him.
When Tom pulled his own strikingly hot dick from Danny's still tight hole a minute later, it was clear he hadn't come -- Brady's dick looked painfully hard, slick with lube, the fat crown almost purple, thick veins tracking its length. The quarterback didn't dare touch himself; he was planning something special.
He caught Edelman's eye next. "Flip over, dude."
Julian Edelman breathed in sharply, his mouth open, eyes shut, as Tom Brady drove his cock inside him. It was all just a foot from where Collie sat, still not touching his impossibly hard dick -- Austin could actually see Brady's long, curving shaft disappear inch by inch inside Edelman's round muscle ass.
"Aunngh, fuck..." Edelman bit the bedsheets, clenching his teeth as Brady instantly began fucking him hard, the stud QB pistoning his dick deep into the receiver's slick jock cunt. Tom Brady had always been partial to Julian Edelman's ass, and he made it known to the team brass when Edelman's contract was up last year that if they wanted to keep their champion quarterback happy, they'd resign #11. Something about Edelman's hyperactive, sparkplug style of play lit a fire in Brady too, and he found he could rarely hold himself back when he was all the way deep in Edelman's hole.
"Mnnhhghhh..." Edelman's face was buried in the bed now. His back was a masterpiece of muscle, wide, round shoulders tapering down to a narrow but still powerful waist, the v-shape of his lats directing the eye down to where Tom Brady was utterly punishing his teammate's beautiful ass. Brady's own upper lip was curled in a sneer, loving every moment of this hard, deep fuck. Sweat glistened on Edelman's lower back, on Brady's chest. At one point, the muscular receiver tried to lift himself up to his elbows. Brady growled, "Uh uh..." and pressed both hands down on Edelman's back, using the leverage to mount his whole body on Edelman's backside and plow his cock even deeper into his teammate's hole. Edelman moaned in unchecked ecstasy; now Brady's thrusts were also grinding Edelman's cock between his hard abs and the soft sheets, and it wouldn't be fucking long now...
"Aughhh FUCK!" Brady kept fucking his receiver even as Edelman's ass clenched tight around his cock. He loved fucking every last drop of a load out of Edelman's huge balls, and he wasn't gonna let up till Julian was exhausted. When finally Edelman stopped driving his ass back onto Brady's still rock-hard prick, the QB pulled free and let Edelman turn over.
"Jesus..." That was Danny Amendola, who'd already recovered and stiffened to full arousal again just watching Brady and Edelman fuck. Now he marveled at the bedsheets soaked in Julian Edelman's come, and the jizz-drenched expanse of Edelman's upper body, fresh come shining like polished marble on the pale skin of Edelman's rock-solid pecs and abdominals. Julian himself was speechless, his mouth hanging open, his cock still hard as it ached above his tight stomach.
Tom turned to Austin Collie.
Collie swallowed hard. Tom Brady looked like a fucking beast -- nothing like the guy who'd easily kissed his receivers earlier. This Brady's eyes were dark, every muscle popping from his body, brown hair disheveled, and his cock -- fuck, his cock -- Brady looked like he hadn't gotten off in weeks, that wide, iron-hard, angrily throbbing 9-inch prick strained desperately into the air, gleaming with lube and pre-come. Collie thought he could take it, but found himself frozen in place.
"Austin." Brady's voice jerked Collie's eyes up. He smiled one last time. "You really are fucking gorgeous," Tom said, his eyes drifting over Austin's body. Then the smile disappeared from his face. "Now take off your fucking clothes."
Austin obeyed. He whipped his shirt off first, then pulled his trunks down as he simultaneously slid back on the bed, his beautifully hard dick popping free and slapping against his tight abs. Brady instantly climbed on the bed after him, the QB's own raging-hard cock bobbing and dripping jizz onto Austin's legs and stomach. Brady was staring down at Collie, fire in his eyes. He leaned in close.
"I always fucking wanted you, bro," Tom hissed, quiet enough that only Austin could hear. Collie let his legs spread, felt the hard, hot power of Brady's dick between them. "Back when you were in Indy...always watched this tight ass on the field...wanted inside you..." Brady's cockhead had slipped between Collie's firm cheeks and was massaging that tight hole. Collie shifted on the bed and Brady's dick rubbed a place right at his entrance, and Collie's mouth dropped open in pleasure. He shuddered as Tom licked his neck, the stubble of Tom Brady's beard scratching the sensitive skin just below Austin's ear. "You were married...straight...couldn't have you."
Collie's entire body tensed, his abs crunched, his arms flexed, everything but his perfect ass, which he was trying desperately to relax in anticipation of what he knew was coming.
"But deep down I knew you wanted this the whole...fucking...time."
Austin Collie gasped, his jaw dropping, as Tom Brady drove his cock to the hilt in a single thrust. Brady's own lips parted too -- Austin Collie's jock cunt was perfect. Fucking divine. It enveloped his achingly hard cock like a tight glove. And smoothly, seamlessly, he began deeply fucking Austin Collie.
Brady's body was beauty in motion, driving himself into his new receiver again and again. His eyes were still dark, but as he eased into his steady rhythm he began to relax, began to feel himself approaching the release he'd been holding back. Brady felt the load boiling in his heavy, overloaded balls, not just the come he'd been building up for a week, denying himself, focusing his whole body on the game, but the tension, the stored energy of the endless training and lifting and throwing, all pouring out into the breathless fuck he was delivering to Collie's perfect asshole.
Austin Collie was beautiful himself, a picture of manhood even as he was roughly fucked. Austin's pecs swelled full, his nipples rock-hard on the peak of each rise of muscle. His stomach rippled with ridges of definition. Austin's cock was pouring pre-come from the slit, the warm juice streaming down his long, hard shaft. But nothing compared to his face -- that model-handsome face, chiseled features, sharp blue eyes staring up at Tom Brady, totally and perfectly consumed by Brady's cock.
In the distance, Austin could hear Danny Amendola grunting "Fuck...fuck..." as he came again, pumping another load from his swollen prick. Closer, but still through Austin's deep fuck-haze, Edelman was gasping, and a moment later Collie felt hot liquid spray across his abs, then his chest.
Austin tried to hold himself back another few seconds, to prolong this feeling, but he was already spilling over the edge, intense pleasure flooding through his body. And as his ripped body seized and he felt his cock pumping come from deep in his balls, felt the shots splatter against his chest and neck, Austin looked up to see his new quarterback staring down at him. Brady's eyes were wide open now, his lips barely parted, and the two Patriots' eyes met as Brady breathed in sharply and finally came deep inside Austin Collie.
It must have been a couple of minutes, at least, before Austin finally opened his eyes. Brady was slowly sliding out of him, leaving behind his third well-fucked hole of the night but his first thick load. The Pats QB smiled again, and leaned down over his receiver. The two Pats kissed, sealing the deal, Brady's come-slick cock sliding over Collie's come-soaked belly. Then Tom lifted himself back up, looking down at the fucked-out wideout beneath him, then over to his two other favorite fucks, both of em sweaty, stroking, half-hard again as they took in the scene.
Brady grinned. "Boys...I think we're gonna make a hell of a team."