Team Reward, pt. 10 (m/t, anal, oral, HS, ws) Bill Drake (billdrake@hotmail.com)
Warning: the following story contains graphic descriptions of sexual material. If you are underage or do not wish to read such materials, read no further. The fiction depicts unsafe sex practices. It's fantasy. In real life, stay healthy and wear a rubber.
For more of my stories, check out the Authors page of the Nifty Archive Files section or see my group at Yahoo (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/drakestories/). Comments to billdrake@hotmail.com. I'm loving the feedback on this one. Sorry if I can't reply to everyone, but your emails are what keep me writing.
TEAM REWARD
10
Jackson High Baseball coach Bill Farrell answered the door. As expected, Mike White, Sr. stood before him, dressed in his gray wool business suit. The man was sexy, as handsome and ruggedly good looking as that day Bill spotted him in his car. Mike's well-pressed appearance was counterpointed by the scruffy four-o-clock shadow across his face and the look of animal hunger in his ice-blue eyes. "Fuck..." he muttered, completely overtaken by his desire for the hot man in front of him. The coach was dressed only in a pair of the flimsiest Jackson High track shorts and a baseball cap. His hair-coated barrel chest stood out proudly as the two men met in a deep kiss. Coach's naked flesh went into goosebumps as he felt the firm build of this businessman hunk and the sumptuous cotton dress shirt and smooth-rough worsted wool suit rub against his torso and his sensitive, erect nipples. Bill felt Mike's large, powerful hands grip his shorts and slide them down. The baseball coach dick sprung free, rigid and upright, and his exposed ass felt the other man's hands take hold of the taut gluteal muscle.
Mike moaned in approval in Bill's mouth as their tongues dueled. All week he had dreamed of Bill's cocksucking mouth wrapped around his dick, nursing him to another explosive orgasm like he had in the parking lot the other day. He wanted another hot, wet, fantastic blowjob. Only now he wanted something else as well: the tight asspucker that clutched and twitched underneath his fingertips. Relentlessly, Mike teased the assring, massaging the coach deep in the center of his crevice. The contact made Bill's muscular body shudder and his head roll back from the oral assault from Mike.
"Jesus, Mike! That feels fantastic!" His arms wrapped around Mike, pulling the stud's clothed body tighter against his own naked form. The executive hunk had a good three inches height on him, and Bill took the difference as a chance to lick and kiss along the man's sexy, stubble covered chin. What a hot, amazing feeling, he thought, rubbing his hands all over Mike's broad chest. The coach's thick erection stood hard - red, throbbing, aching - against this stud's belt. Usually by now, Bill would be guiding that prick into some guy's warm, wet hole. He liked being the fucker, watching some stud's muscle cheeks part around his fat piece of dick. With Gary or any of his other fuck buddies, he took charge and showed them the pleasure of being worked over by a nice, thick tool.
But something about Michael White changed that. This man was in charge, and Bill fucking knew it. Maybe because he was so sexy and handsome. Maybe because of his cocksure attitude. Maybe because of the nine, erect inches now wrestling his own hard meat through the barrier of the wool material. This specimen of married man perfection was stoking the coach's tight studhole right there in his goddamned living room and Bill was loving it. With subtle semi-circular motions, his hips ground forward and backward, moving his ass on Mike's skilled hands. Those expert fingers were tracing a path around the puckered ring, then teasing their way past the pinhole muscle, dilating it with the persuasiveness of his long, thick digits. When the first finger finally cleared and entered and prodded the coach's rectal walls, both men hissed in a loud intake of air.
Mike moaned while administering a smooth, methodical finger fuck. "This is one goddamned hot ass. It's sucking my finger right in. Fucking needs more, too, doesn't it, stud?"
Almost involuntarily, Bill parted his thick quads, lowering his cock so that its flared, angry head poked against Mike's scrotum and his asscheeks parted for the welcome invader. "Yeah. It's been a while, bud. Too fucking long." Bill thought back to the last time he'd been dicked. Ten years ago. A player of his who turned him on as much as Michael White. The two rutted every chance they could until the athlete went off to college. And even that star ballplayer could do things with his hands that the businessman was doing now.
"Just makes it that much hungrier," Mike groaned as he worked over the perfect set of buns in his grip. The thought of working his way in between these steel hard cheeks made his cock throb hard in his suit. He could feel the wetness circle out from the tip of his hardon and through the layers of underwear and suitpants. It was funny, thought the married exec: he'd fooled around with a couple of fraternity brothers in college, but it had been a while since he'd fucked around on his wife. But somehow he knew this is what he wanted, needed. He'd been thinking about it all day and all week. "Let's go to the bedroom, bud. Time to feed this hungry butt."
Bill broke into a big grin as Mike pushed his ballcap off playfully. "You're on, big guy."
Tim Fitzgerald followed local businessman Trent Sullivan into the steam room. His cock was hard as steel walking in there, but as the wet heat hit him, his dick surged and the round prickhead swelled in eager fucklust. Tim liked chasing and conquering muscleass. He loved spreading the firm jock buns of his teammates time and again and often insisted on fucking them from behind so he could watch the flesh part as his hard quarterback dick speared deep in between the cleft and pierced the tight assring of his teammates buddies. Yeah, he liked the fucking too, the tight warm heat of fresh jocksnatch wrapped tight around his thrusting pole. But even more, it was the hunt that turned him on.
And as incredible as the jock asses were at Jackson High, Tim found his desire even greater for the powerful, firm muscleasses of adult men. That's why he loved dicking Mr. Johnson. The hunky QB had meant for it to be a quick, one-time fuck - a chance to get his hot, hungry cock deep up his teacher's hole. A chance to spray his jock seed inside Mr. J, mark the man as Tim's territory, make the guy eager for more of that Fitzgerald dick, which he wasn't going to get. Only the man had too amazing an ass for Tim to ignore. Ever day in class, whenever Mr. Johnson would turn around to write something on the board, Tim would get a view of his teacher's buns snug in those dress pants, and he would throw a major boner. Half the time he made sure to stay after class "to ask a question."
As his sight adjusted to the fog of the steamroom, Tim could make out the beefy figure of Trent in front of him. The man was scoping out the display of teen jock flesh, all pumped up from practice and relaxing in the steam. From the motions of the man's right arm, he could tell that Mr. Sullivan was jerking off lazily while trying to decide which athlete to approach. But Tim was more interested in the glorious view of Trent's backside. It was more amazing than Mr. Johnson's. Nice, thick cascade of muscles down from his meaty shoulders to his lower back. The man's waist wasn't thin and his stocky figure didn't really taper to a V shape. But neither did he have love handles; it was all hard muscle.
So was that ass. This was Tim's Holy Grail - two meaty globes of giant, sculpted, round manmuscle. Deep dark crevice running down the center. A slight dusting of brown hair on them, though not obscenely hairy. Even without feeling them he knew they didn't have a trace of softness to their shape. And fuck, did he want to touch them. Bad.
Silently Tim walked up behind Trent, surveying his prey while his cock twitched in anticipation. Up close he could see the sheen of moisture glistening on the man's tan, rugged skin. He could even smell Trent's cologne, mingled with the definite smell of MAN, the combined odor stirring the athlete's primal urges, like an animal responding to its mate's pheromones.
The quarterback lifted his throwing hand and brought it to his mouth. Keeping his eyes on Trent's backside, he extending his jock tongue and swiped the length of his palm and fingers. The contact made his body shiver in heat. He licked again. And again, wetting his digits more fully with each swath of his wet tongue. Ever since he'd started playing ball in junior high, folks had called him the Boy with the Golden Hand, he was such a natural QB. Now, lately, a number of his teammates and of the men in Jackson County were learning just how talented this hand could be.
Fitzgerald's golden paw was practically dripping with jock saliva when it wedged itself right deep in the cleft of Trent's ass. Tim was gaining precision both on and off the field - his middle finger had hit the man's rosebud and was working the tight pucker in semi-circular motions. The steamy heat of the recesses of this stud's ass was, if possible, even hotter than the sauna in which the two stood.
The businessman grunted at the sudden move and tried to move away from the invading hand. Only Tim was a move ahead of him, already wrapping his powerful left arm around the other man's sturdy, bulging torso. Before Trent knew what hit him, Tim already had two finger crammed up his shitter. He began struggling against the teen jock's hold, turning around to see who was.
Seeing the steel-blue eyes of the quarterback, Trent felt his cock throb at the realization that he was going to be making it with the hottest guy on the team. Still, fear and common sense gripped him; there was no way he could take a pole as big as Fitzgerald's up his virgin butt.
"Listen bud," he muttered. "You're one incredibly hot guy. But the truth is, I don't get fucked."
"That's what you think," Tim growled and sunk to his knees in front of Trent's fine ass cheeks. Gripping the two globes of man muscle, he pried them apart and admired the hairy crevice and tight rosebud. Greedily, he dove in and attacked the businessman's hole, licking and gnawing at the tender flesh. He pulsed his tongue at the man's sphincter, first gently then with full pressure, then gently again. He was rewarded by the spasms of pleasure dilating Trent's anal opening.
"Shit, guy, that's amazing," Trent purred as he ground his round muscular ass back against the teen star player's mouth. More tongue slithered up his hole. "How the fuck are you making me feel this hot?"
Tim pulled back and admired his work: a nice, spit-slick hole opened and pulsing before him. Roughly, he spit a wad of thick quarterback saliva right at Trent's manhole. "Hell, this is nothing, Mr. Sullivan. I'm just getting this amazing butt warmed up." With that, he went back at it, forcing Trent's ass into pleasures he didn't know possible.
"Sweet, Fitzgerald. You got one sweet jock mouth," he said, as he tossed his head back, surrendering to the manhandling his back end was getting.
Rich Fulsom opened the door of the house where he grew up. His Friday class was cancelled so he decided to come home early. Plopping an oversized bag of laundry down in the hallway, he called out to see if anyone was home. No answer. He picked up his duffel bag, then started up toward his room.
Walking down the hall he heard the shower running. Must be his brother Randy. Rich was proud of his little brother. The kid had followed his own footsteps and had become a star jock just like him. Granted, Rich's sport was lacrosse and he had the lithe, lean muscle frame and the flared lats and delts to prove it. He had the same genetic body type as Randy, but with a few years of college play and off-season conditioning under his belt, Rich had more muscle yet less bulk on his tall, big-shouldered frame than his brother.
"Hey Randy, is that you, bro?" Rich called out as he walked into his brother's room. Clothes were strewn everywhere; his brother was such a slob, he thought. Then when he walked through the open bathroom door, he realized why there were so many clothing articles around.
Two men stood in the steamy hot shower, their teen stud bodies locked in an embrace. One was a cute-faced lean stud with a beautiful power ass, whose sinewy arms wrapped tightly around the other guy. Rich took a second to admire the meaty legs, the hard midsection, the beefy chest before coming face to face with his brother. His brother was getting royally fucked right in front of him.
"Randy! Holy fuck!" Rich exclaimed.
The burly linebacker opened his eyes and snapped out of his fuck-fueled reverie. "Rich! Shit, Rich, I'm sorry, it's not what it looks like."
His brother laughed. "Fuck, stud, it's exactly what it looks like." Once the shock set in though, he showed no signs of dismay, but rather broke into a confident, eager grin as he watched his jock brother getting bum fucked.
Hank's eyes opened and he saw a strange guy standing there in the bathroom watching him, but his mind didn't register the fact. He was too lost in his nut. The silky grip of Randy's rectum was driving him mad with pleasure, as he sawed his large cock in and out of the linebacker's hole. At first he'd gone easy on his fuckbuddy, giving the jock time to accommodate his supersized piece and get used to being fucked. But after about ten minutes of careful, shallow shafting, a switch was flicked inside him, and an intense heat spread through his body, centering in his dick and balls and radiating outward. He was experience the joy of tight, virgin jock ass. Wrapping his arms around his conquest, he thrusted deep, fast and hard, over and over, pummeling that fine meaty ass and slapping his low-hanging balls against the flesh between Randy's beefy thighs with each inward jab.
Randy had loved every second of it. Here he was, the big bruiser football jock and now this cute, big-dicked guy two years younger than him was taking charge in the way he didn't even dream he wanted. It was goddamned hot.
Only now, Fulsom stood mortified as his big brother stood there watching him getting fucked hard from behind. He'd never even mentioned to Rich that he liked guys, and it felt humiliating to be discovered this way. He wanted to stop, to pull off that thrusting dick. He wanted to explain to his brother... Only Hank didn't stop for a second. In fact, the kid was going to town on his butt and had pressed the linebacker's lunky frame into the tile shower wall. So he watched in horror, locking eyes with his collegiate brother while Hank had his way with him.
Then in the midst of his dread and horror, something surprising happened. Rick reached down and hooked his hands in the bottom of his T-shirt and began to peel the cotton off up and over his head. Randy couldn't believe the sight in front of him; his brother had one amazing chest, nice rounded pecs with dark-red, hard nipples sticking up proudly from the smooth toned muscle. And a rippled eight-pack that traveled down to the waistband of his brother's jeans.
Which were being unsnapped and opened. Shit! Rich was taking off his pants as well. Randy moaned as Hank humped his ass and his eyes widened, transfixes at the smooth flesh bared as the fly of Rich's jeans opened and the denim fell to the floor. "Holy shit!" Randy muttered. His brother was hung with a nice, full cock, not long like Hank's but definitely bigger than his.
"You like, bro?" Rich said through a clinched smile as he stepped naked and hard into the shower to join the steamy fuck action. Before his stunned brother could answer, he pressed his torso up against Randy's, feeling the wet, heat and the strength of the kid's muscle. Roughly, he ground his mouth into his jock brother's, working over the stud's lips with his own fevered liplock. He felt two linebacker hands grip his thick, vascular lat muscles and heard a stifled orgasmic groan over the shower spray.
It was too much for Randy. The combination of rough stallion-dick fuck from behind and the heated kiss and groping from his college-jock brother in front of him made his dick pulse and spray white seed all over Rich's smooth abdomen, coating the collegiate athlete's crotch in thick, viscous jock seed.
"Fuck yeah," Rich hummed into Randy's open mouth as his brother gave it up. He'd traded bodily fluids with teammates and other hot guys on campus, but nothing til now had compared with the thrill of being hosed by his little brother. He looked over Randy's shoulder and saw that Hank had lodged his cock all the way in Randy's bowels and was spurting his wad, way up deep.
It wasn't until Hank withdrew his spent but still erect cock that Rich got his surprise. One look at the long dick and he whistled. "Goddamn, that's a big fucking cock!" Turning to look his brother deep into his brown eyes, he teased the teen's nips and said, "You're a pro, Randy. Taking a dick like that."
Randy didn't reply. His knees were already on the cold shower floor and his lips wrapped around the spunk-covered hardon jutting from his brother's flawless bod.
"Shit, yeah, Randy," Rich muttered, sinking his cockflesh into Randy's warm, wet gullet. He looked up into the gaze of his bro's big-dicked buddy, and the electricity and desire floating between them told him that he had one hell of a weekend ahead of him.
It had been a tough practice, Mike White's first with his future team. He could already tell these guys at State were a great bunch of fellas. They'd treated him like a friend and a part of the team. And he could see why State U. was in the running for the championship year after year. As much as the teammates were friendly and joking off the field, the minute they stepped onto the football field, even for practice, there was nothing but athletic concentration and intense determination. It scared Mike a little - he'd seen nothing quite like this in his days of high school ballplaying - but it excited him as well.
At about 5 o'clock, the young men gathered around Coach Pierson for his wrap-up talk. "Great job, men. You put in a 100% practice today and that's the way it's gotta stay. I'm not gonna talk your ear off today, you know what you gotta do. We'll be out here tomorrow for one last practice before Saturday's match. So rest up and take it easy til then."
The players all shouted the State U. rally cry then disbanded to head back to the lockerroom.
"All right, guys, you can go...Except for Henderson there - I want to see 20 laps around the field. Now. I don't want to see you dragging your feet on the field at practice again. Got it, fuckwad? Get going."
The player named Henderson, a beefy, top-heavy dirty-blonde cornerback, had an angry scowl on his face, but he didn't dare say anything. He just removed his helmet and began following Coach's orders.
"And White, come over here." As the other guys filed off, Mike approached his new coach. "Yes sir?" he asked.
"Well, whaddya think, White? Think you're gonna fit into this team?"
Even now, after spending a full 24 hour with Brian Pierson, Mike couldn't help by marvel the hunk of the man who stood before him in his athletic shorts and a knit shirt. The clothes did nothing to hide the amazing brawn of this studgod. Mike was glad his athletic cup held his forming hardon in check. "Yes, sir. I can see why it's a winning group of players, Coach. I can feel the discipline on the team."
"Yeah, all my men know their place and do their job. You will too, White."
"Yes, sir." Mike stood there in his temporary State U. uniform, feeling the autumn breeze blow right through the jersey knit, making goosebumps form all up and down his muscled torso. He waited for Coach to say something, only the hunky man just smirked and stared at White, like he was waiting for him to do something.
"Fuck!" White muttered when he realized what Coach wanted. That bit about knowing his place. Coach was fucking horny - already!
Coach smiled. "Not the quickest one, are you White? That's OK, you're a great player and you know how to suck a real man's dick. That's all I ask out of my boys."
Mike's teen athlete body shuddered in fear. "Here, sir?" He motioned to John Henderson, who was still making his laps.
"Don't worry, White. Henderson's seen it all. Now get the fuck on your knees."
Kneeling down, Mike felt the dampness of the sod against his knees as he came face to face with Coach's crotch. Yep, the fucker was hard as steel beneath those shorts. The athlete's hands pawed and worked over the hard fleshy mound trapped inside the shorts. Slowly and silently, he unlaced them, feeling the bulk and brawn of Coach's legs and ass push the fly open obscenely, revealing more and more dark brown downy crotch hair. Something about the sight really turned Mike on. It was like Coach's body fur was a proud warning, an announcement that below, hidden by lycra, was a real man's appendage.
Carefully, he reach beneath the shorts material and grabbed it. That huge flashlight-sized cock. That piece of raw, masculine power that had been calling that shots the last two days. Nice, smooth, and getting steel hard as White fished it out.
The running back craved to lick the surface and to gobble the length down his throat. It was still hard taking that much meat, but he knew that with practice he'd be able to deep throat Coach like he deserved. He reached up and started to remove his helmet only Pierson knocked his hands away.
Swiftly, that fat, vascular cockhead poked its way in between the wire guards of the helmet. The meaty weight rested on one of the edges, perched up to guide the prickflesh straight to White's hungry lips. "Goddamn, coach, I fucking love this big, leaking mancock." That's all the athlete said for the next five minutes, because the minute he spoke the thick staff of coach cock was already inching forward, resting on his lips, parting them to push further.
"Yeah, suck it, White," Pierson intoned, gripping onto Mike's helmet and holding the athlete's head immobile as his hips spoke for the both of them. He savored the wet tightness as Mike's oral cavity stretched to accommodate his width. Nice thing about having a megacock the proportions of his - blowjobs were never sloppy affairs but rather meant the vicelike grip of hot jock mouth on his horny, sensitive manpole.
Mike's dick throbbed inside the protective cup of the football uniform as his future coach pushed more meat over his extended tongue. He loved it all, the length, the thickness, the utter hardness, the veins crisscrossing the whole piece. And he loved that fat cockhead that flared and pulsed inside his mouth. He could taste the salty dick dew leaking copiously from the pissslit. He wanted to take that head, run his tongue all over the slit and collect as much of Coach's essence as he could, but it was lodged too far back in his throat.
And going deeper. Mike wanted it all, he loved feeling filled with Coach's manhood, loved the feel of Coach's pubes pressed into his nose, loved that goddamn man smell. But today, this afternoon, on his knees in the middle of the State U. practice field, he wouldn't get all twelve inches. His helmet still on, he could see coach's furry belly pressed against the wire protector and could sense the two inches between it and his mouth. And an inch sticking outside the helmet. Leaving nine inches inside him. He wasn't swallowing all of Coach, but it was plenty. Especially when Coach started fucking. Sawing that giant prick in and out in hard, shallow thrusts.
Mike could tell Pierson was enjoying this more than a deep-throating. That the man loved being rough on his mouth. Coach kept mumbling and growling in a deep-voiced mantra of sex talk, telling White that he was a goddamned jock whore and that Coach owned his ass and that by the end of the first year he'd be the best goddamn fuck on campus. The very idea that his cocksucking was driving Coach wild excited him like mad. With all his strength he reached around Coach's bare ass, those twin globes of hard power thrusting into him, and he used all the strength in his arms to slam those hips forward, pushing that cock harder and deeper into his throat.
"Whoa, boy, that's it! Take charge! The boy knows what he wants. Wants his coach's hot, thick cream. Wants these big man's balls to pump their sperm down your goddamn throat. Yeah, you're sucking it kid, sucking all my fucking jizz!"
Pierson's salty spray hit the back of White's throat in mid-thrust. Mike's cock ached in being trapped in full erection, but with the rich, wonderful sperm being hosed into him, he was happy. After Brian discharged completely, he gently pushed Mike back off his cock.
The running back fell back on his haunches, catching his upperbody with his arms extended behind him. Above him towered his hunky coach. The amazing figure of a beefy figure. As Mike caught his breath, licked the cum off his lips and smiled up at Brian, he took a minute to examine every detail about this incredible man. The knotted brawn twisting beneath the knit-polo shirt, the hard nipples responding to the autumn breeze, the hairy arms. And of course that dick, a mammoth foot of strength and virility jutting out from the man's hard belly. Mike could feel his erection throb and his mouth water as he stared at that huge cock.
Suddenly at the end of Coach's shaft, the pissslit opened up. Before Mike could even register what was happening, a powerful high arc of hot, yellow piss pushed up out of the stud's cock and up into the air, landing over and on Mike's uniform-clad body. Mike was too transfixed to move - the hot urine just soaked the jersey fabric of his State U. practice uniform. It felt like a warm August rain. He looked up at Coach's face, who just smirked as he rested his hands on his hips and let loose with his bladder. Finally, the arc slowed to a jet, which slowed to a spurt, then to a trickle.
"All right White, practice is over. Go get cleaned up."
Mike stood and walked back toward the lockerroom. He was soaked from head to toe in one of Coach's bodily fluids. He removed his helmet, shaking the sweat out of his hair. He smiled as he looked forward to a nice, long jerkoff in the shower.