Disclaimer: The following is an original work of fiction that contains graphic depictions of sexual activities and erotic abuse between males. Please leave now if you are offended by such material, or if you are under the age of 18, or if you live in a community where viewing or possessing adult material is illegal.
All rights are reserved by the author. Please download for personal use only. This story may not be posted to any other websites without the explicit permission of the author.
Comments, feedback and suggestions welcome at htown_stud713@yahoo.com
My first attempt at erotic fiction. My other favorite stories on Nifty that you should definitely check out include:
Authoritarian Bred-slave Coachs-assistant Jock-sex-slave Baseball-team-rapes-teacher My-uncles-farm Brutal-trucker-sex Executive-slave Rural-slaves Harbour-master (2000) Anything written by Luc Milne (fantastic imagination) Kyles-bitch Ball-boy (2000) Blackmale (2004) The-bazzar Raw-recruits (just plain hot) Ass-abbey (2000) Island-of-dr-monroe Frat-boys-bitch-boy Precinct-twenty-three The-hole (epic story) Black-sub
Trans: Prison Pirates-boy-bitch Birth-of-a-new-sissy Sissy-botttom-prostitue
Pussyboy Frat- Chapter 1
They say that growing up in Southern California is suppose to be fun, but it's probably more accurate to say that it's fun if you have money. Growing up, Jason Stillwell and his family didn't. The Stillwell name was the only thing he had left from his dad, who had died when Jason was two and his mother was forced to take two jobs to make ends meet. She eventually remarried a man named Craig, thinking that her happiness lay in the companionship he could provide and in the male role model he could provide her son. But this illusion soon fell apart as Craig's job as a shift worker at a local packing plant meant that he slept during the day, worked at night, and spent the time in between sitting on the couch and drinking beer. The two would fight, and eventually the stress became too much and she left, leaving her young son in the tiny, two-bedroom apartment with his stepfather and the promise to send for him when she got settled elsewhere. That was when Jason was 12, and he hadn't heard from his mother since then. Craig was alright, never hostile or abusive, just neglectful if anything. He wasn't much of a male role model in the home, and the boy ended up having to do his own cooking, laundry and cleaning whenever he was hungry or needed clean clothes.
Other than that, Craig let his stepson do whatever he wanted. Some boys would have become delinquents, but Jason actually stayed in school and did very well. Again, they didn't have a lot of money to participate in a lot of school activities. A lot of kids, once they turned 16, would get their licenses and drive half-an hour into the city on weekends to party, shop or just hang out. Their parents bought them whatever they wanted or needed, but Jason just didn't fit into that crowd. As a result, he didn't have many friends, and very limited luck with girls. By the time he was a senior in high school, he had only seriously kissed one and built up the nerve to kiss and feel up one other. Most of his time was spent studying, and the thing he was most proud of at that point of his life was a 3.80 GPA as he entered his senior year. Jason was especially proud because his was a good, upper class school district with a high graduation rate and a lot of kids going on to college. His mother had pushed for the apartment that Craig and he were now in because it was just inside of the school district boundaries.
Physically, Jason was fairly good looking. About 5' 10", about 180lbs, with thick brown hair and green eyes. Although never sure of his heritage, he had a full set of lips that were almost in a permanent pout, and even after puberty didn't develop a lot of body hair. His dick was about 5 inches hard (which seemed to be a lot of the time), but kind of on the thin side. His nuts were average, although Jason worried that they were a little on the small side. He was lean and wiry, never putting on the bulk of muscles a lot of the other boys in his class did from spending hours in the gym or playing sports.
One of the things that Jason did do outside of studying was to work as the equipment manager for the high school football team for his senior year. The previous equipment manager had been fired for stealing from the lockers while the team was at practice, and he had applied for and got the job. It was fun hanging out with the team and going to all the games and practices. Afterwards Jason had to help the players take off their cleats and pads, collect the soiled jerseys and jock straps for the laundry and tidy up the locker room. It wasn't glamorous, but it paid a stipend of $75 per month, enough for him to buy new shoes or the occasional pizza. He also liked hanging around the jocks, listening to them tease each other in the locker room, brag about what girl they were banging or wanting to bang, watching them roughhouse, and generally soaking the male camaraderie. Jason never actively participated. The guys were nice, but never drew him into their conversations or activities. The football coach was named Coach Simmons, a former marine sergeant who still had a lot of muscles on his mid-40s frame. He always seemed to have a couple of days growth of beard on his face, his hair was black and still trimmed in a crew cut style. He was more than a little intimidating and was in complete control of his team. When he yelled, even the cockiest high school jock paid attention.
One of the team's star players during Jason's senior year was a junior running back named Peter Bruce, who had transferred in two years ago. Peter was awesome, pure male perfection. He played all kinds of sports, which had resulted in a physique that would be the envy of any male model, muscular, but without the bulk that affected some player's grace and agility. He had a permanent bronze tan, except in the middle, which was a narrow band of white from wearing shorts at the beach on weekends. He was about 6 feet tall with sun bleached blond hair and a smile that caught everyone's attention. His dad was a corporate lawyer and his mom ran her own real estate firm, so he always seemed to have a lot of money. His parents even bought him a new BMW Z4 for his 16th birthday. He also had some kind of quality or charisma that it seemed like you just knew when he was in the room. Everyone just kind of turned to him. All of the girls at Jason's school would have been thrilled to go out with him, and he had a steady stream of dates. But the most interesting thing about Peter, at least to Jason, was his equipment.
Jason had never been attracted to guys, but when Peter got undressed after practice he couldn't help stealing glances at the jock's body, as did most of the envious other players. Some of them had bigger or thicker cocks (who doesn't glance at another dude's package in a locker room or shower?), but Peter's was different. It was about 4" soft and cut, but it sat on top of a HUGE set of balls. His nutsack was the size of an orange, the balls so large that they seemed to stretch his scrotum into one smooth orb. As a result of the size of his nuts, his dick seemed to stick strait out from his crotch, like a divining rod pointing in front of him and when he walked, his cock bounced side to side, almost like a permanent semi-erection. It was almost hypnotic to watch, like a snake moving back and forth to the rhythm of a flute. Jason had been caught staring a few time, but Peter would just grin, grab his dick and shake it good naturedly.
Jason knew he was straight (at the time). He'd been masturbating for about 4 years, and Craig always kept plenty of pussy porn mags in his bottom dresser drawer. Yet occasionally, thoughts of Peter would come into his mind as he stroked his penis beneath the sheets at night. He wonder what it would be like to have balls like Peter's, or to have a body like his. He managed to convince himself that his thoughts were driven by envy and not attraction, although he did seem to squirt large loads when thinking of Peter.
It was the middle of the season of Jason senior year and the team was doing well. There was a chance they would even win the big end of season game against their cross town rivals. It was late in the afternoon and the team had finished practice about an hour ago. As the team came in from the playing field, they walked down a short hallway and then turned left and go to the part of the locker room where the showers and Coach Simmons office were located. Down the hall to the right was the equipment room and laundry room. The players had showered, dressed and left and Jason was just finishing up in the locker room. Coach Simmons was in his office. Jason was pushing a laundry cart filled with towels and jockstraps down the hall to the laundry room as his last job of the evening. It was his least favorite job, and he usually did it last, since he had to wait for all the players to finish with their towels.
Jason got to the laundry room and the washing machine. He opened the lid and was about to reach for the mound of dirty clothing when something caught his eye. There, on the top of the pile of jockstraps and towels, was a white jock with the name 'P. Bruce' written on the front of the waist band. Normally he didn't give these things any thought, but there was Peter's jock, right in front of him. Jason wasn't some perv who gets off on soiled jocks, but this one he was curious about. The pouch seemed to be well stretched, and he thought about the task it had of supporting Peter's huge nuts. Before he knew it, he had removed his rubber glove and the strap was in his hand. The pouch was warm and damp, and felt smooth between his fingers. Jason didn't know why he did it. He was all alone and the opportunity just presented itself. Tentatively, he brought the pouch to his nose and sniffed. He was surprised that it smelled clean, but something else was also present. Cleaning up the locker room, Jason was no stranger to the smell of teenage sweat, and he knew that's what he was smelling. But while most sweat smelled bad, this had another nuance to it. He couldn't describe it. He knew it was the sweat from Peter's balls, and the combination of that and whatever pheromones Peter's nut were generating had a stranger effect on him. Before he realized it, Jason had cupped the pouch to his face, breathing it in with deep breaths. He could smell traces of piss, and a few stray pubic hairs, but even this didn't bother him. The scent was strong, musky, clean and sexy all at the same time. It just smelled masculine.
Jason was getting light headed, and for some reason, his penis began to stiffen up. He moved the supporter so that his nose was at the junction of the two straps that connected the pouch to the belt, the part that would have been rubbing on Peter's taint for the last two hours. The scent here was even stronger and his dick got completely hard. He had never been bothered in this part of the locker room, as the coach and the players never had any interest in the laundry, so long as it was done. Looking around quickly, Jason unzipped his jeans and released his hard-on. Holding the jock strap to his nose with one hand, he reached down and began to jerk his cock with the other.
He'd never done anything like this before. It was exhilarating, standing in the locker room laundry with his erection in the air, smelling some jock's athletic supporter and jerking off. Maybe it was the thrill of the taboo act combined with the chance, however remote, of being caught. Like most guys his age, it didn't take long for me to shoot a load of cum all over the rest of the towels and jocks. Jason's heart was pounding and his legs were shaking as he quickly cleaned up and dumped the laundry into the washer, throwing in Peter's strap last. He was tempted to take it home, but knew it would be missed if it wasn't clean by tomorrow.
At home that night, Jason jerked off twice more, both times thinking of Peter and the scent of his sweat soaked jock. He rationalized it by telling himself that no one would ever know and that the football season would soon be over. Compared to what some of the kids were rumored to have done on school property, his indiscretion was minor. He drifted off to sleep, thinking about what he'd done, wondering why he was getting a charge out of it.
It quickly became something of a habit after every practice and home game. When the players were gone and Coach Simmons was ensconced in his office, Jason would wheel the laundry cart into the wash room and close the door. Whereas before he would simply dump the entire contents of the basket into the wash, he now carefully placed each article in the machine until he came across Peter's. Every time the scent hit his nostrils, it was like he couldn't get enough. It was always slightly different, but always with the same underlying potency. He'd quickly start to jerk off, breathing in huge deep breaths of Peter's crotch musk. A couple of times, Jason wrapped the pouch around his own cock and jerked off into it, quickly bringing it to his nose afterwards to sample the bouquet of his and Peter's combined smells.
This ritual lasted all season, until one afternoon in mid-November. It was a Thursday practice and the coach was running the team through drill after drill on the field, even though it was unseasonably hot that day. He was pushing them harder than he normally did, wanting to finish the final game of the season on Saturday on a win. The guys were all soaked in sweat as they ran their drills. Jason was running too, filling water bottles and providing towels, but secretly his mind was wandering to thoughts of after practice, wondering if the object of his jerk off sessions would smell even stronger today. He must have been day dreaming a couple of times, and snapped out of it when some player had to repeat themselves when asking for something. At one point, Coach Simmons and Peter seemed to be talking on the sidelines, and Jason thought he saw the Coach pointing at him. Peter seemed to nod and grin, then jogged back on to the field. Jason didn't pay it much mind at the time. He wish he had.
Later, in the laundry, he was jerking his cock with his nose buried in Peter's jockstrap. Jason knew this may the last time he'd have this chance and was entertaining thoughts of stealing it after Saturday's game and simply saying it must have gotten lost in the wash. He had his eyes closed and his mind was wandering to his favorite locker room memories of Peter. Jason had seen him step into his clean, tight jockstrap dozens of times and had always tried to watch as he peeled the same strap off at the end of practice, now damp and clingy. Peter's dick always bounced up as it was freed, like a small animal with a mind of his own. The way he'd give it a little shake or squeeze and would sometimes scratch his nuts. Then he'd walk bare assed naked to the showers, dick bobbing and the muscles in his legs, butt and back flexing gracefully. Jason was getting close to cumming, and could feel his nuts staring to tighten as he pictured Peter beginning to soap himself up, the water running down his smooth chest and abs, down to his pubes and over his large scrotum. Jason took a deep breath and got ready to shoot his load when out of nowhere...
"Ahem", came a sound from behind.
The lewd fantasy quickly vanished from Jason's mind and he whirled around while bending at the waist, trying to stuff his cock back into his jeans. There, leaning in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest, was Peter. Jason tried to think of something to say or how to respond, but the combination of the startled look on his face, the bulge in his pants and the jockstrap in his hand left little doubt as to what he'd been doing.
"How long have you been there?" Jason asked, his heart pounding and his voice sounding nervous. "Jesus, you scared the hell out of me!"
"A while," Peter said with a grin. "Long enough to see you whacking off while sniffing my jock".
Jason could feel the blood drain from his face. "Nah, man, I was just getting ready to throw in the wash".
"Right," Peter said, still grinning like a cat with a cornered mouse. "It's cool man. I won't tell. At least your keeping it at school. You could have made money selling it on line. Some kinky older guys are into that kind of shit."
"Well, um, yeah I guess," Jason stuttered out. "But really, it's not what you think."
"Don't lie to me Jason. Just tell me, honestly, do you like the smell of my crotch?"
"Dude, don't be sick," Jason protested, wondering if it sounded genuine. He had the sinking feeling of being in the position of trying to tell a lie to someone who had proof it wasn't true.
"It's cool man," Peter repeated, walking into the room. "The girls that go down on me seem to like it too. They love playing with my junk. No reason you shouldn't too."
Jason tried to think of something to say, something to shut this conversation down, but came up blank.
"Why don't you get a close up sniff," Peter suggested as he unbutton his jeans and pushed them to this thighs. "Might be your only chance".
"Dude, don't be sick," Jason repeated, staring to panic.
"Come on Jason, you know you want it. No one will ever know." Peter reached up and put his hands on the smaller youth's shoulders. They felt like steel clamps. There was no way Jason could physically fight him and he effortlessly pushed the equipment manager to his knees in front of him. "Balls first Jason," Peter said, looking down at Jason and pulling his head towards his crotch. "Give them a good tongue bath."
Jason opened his mouth to protest, when he caught the first whiff of the smell. Peter had apparently showered after practice and the smell of soap was clear, but under that were currents of the smell that had been arousing Jason for the last two months. His nose was just inches from the source and despite his efforts and denials he found himself beginning to breath. His heart was pounding in his chest and his mouth was dry, but he instinctually opened up and pressed his lips to Peter's huge balls, without even thinking about it. Jason couldn't believe that this was happening. It was like some erotic dream. He began to lap at the smooth scrotum and the skin between the nuts and anus, tasting the salty sweat and breathing in the scent of this stud's balls. He could feel Peter's thick penis, resting across his cheek and strating to leak its juices. Looking up at Peter he seemed even more masculine and Jason wondered how many lucky girls had seen him from this angle.
Peter began to jerk his cock, using his other hand to press Jason's face into his crotch. He kept up a lewd litany of comments. "That's it baby, suck those nuts, get em' clean. You like that, don't you boy? Yeah, feel what a man's equipment is like. I've seen you spying on me in the locker room and in the shower. You almost pop a boner just watching me get undressed. Is this what you wanted? You want to lick my nutsack, be my bitch? Come on you little fucker, work that tongue. Yeah, that's it."
Peter was obviously getting more aroused. His cock had grown in length and girth, arching up at a graceful angle. His fist was making slick pumping sounds as it stroked up and down the meat. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back as he started to stroke even faster. Jason knew the stud was close, and hoped he'd turn away so he wouldn't get hit by the cum shot. Peter had other plans and as he began to growl and his hips began to pump he gripped the top of Jason's head in a fistful of hair. Pulling back slightly, he aimed his cock directly at his victim's face. Knowing what was coming, Jason closed his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to avoid the indignity of having to watch what was about to happen.
Peter's load was mammoth, warm and wet. It was known that Coach Simmons discouraged his players from having sex or jerking off between games, thinking it built up their strength and stamina. Peter dumped what must have been a week's worth of cum and the first shot landed across Jason's face and he could feel it in his hair too. The second followed suit, pooling around Jason's eye socket. Several more landed across his nose. The last ones were weaker, but still stronger than anything Jason had ever produced, and landed on his lips and chin. Jason could feel it dripping across his humiliated face, and he just wanted this to be over, to clean up and run home. Peter started to use the head of his dick to rub the cum around on his face, painting the blank areas of his canvas. He had relaxed his grip on Jason's hair, but the kneeling boy didn't move. Jason could hear Peter breathing and it sounded like he was using a towel to wipe the last traces of cum from his fingers. The entire incident had taken only several minutes, but they were several moments too long. The next sound made Jason nearly jump out of his skin and his heart sink in panic.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN HERE!?!?"
Despite the goo on his face, Jason opened his eyes slightly. Peter was just buttoning his fly, still grinning at him. Behind him, the doorway was Coach Simmons, staring at the defiled student.
Jason opened his mouth, but no sounds came out. He had tried to lie to Peter and it hadn't worked. He couldn't think of any excuse to be on his knees in a locker room laundry with cum covering his face, except for the obvious. Peter didn't seem particularly worried. He just turned and walked out of the room, past the coach, who's stare was still fixed straight ahead. "See ya around Jason" Peter said as he left.
Jason knelt there, still trying to think of something to say. A million thoughts raced through his head. How long had he been there? How much had he seen? Why did he let Peter go? What if he called Craig and destroyed only relationship that Jason had left with his family? Would he tell the principal? Would he get suspended? Expelled? Jason knew that the coach had a terrible temper. He knew that he could easily explode on a player who screwed up or didn't give his full effort. The cum was starting to sting his eyes, but Jason also felt his tears start to well up on their own. He knelt there, no way to clean up, hide, escape or to avoid what was coming to him. He waited to for the coach to unload his wrath.
Instead, Coach Simmons just stood there, staring for what felt like a full minute. "I'll deal with you. Later." he said in a whispered voice more cold and full of rage than any yell Jason had ever heard him utter. With that, he turned and walked out, leaving Jason there. After a few moments, he stood up, knees wobbling and reached for a towel. As he cleaned his face up the best he could, Jason finally broke down and started to cry.