Tebow and Me

This is a work of fiction. I do not know the sexuality of anyone mentioned in this story. All other disclaimers apply. Please enjoy the story and let me know if you like it.

Tebow and me - The beginning

When he showed up at my door in a hoodie and sweats, I could see in his eyes that he'd been having a really bad week. I'd also read it in every New York paper. What wasn't talked about in that paper, though, was what I could also see right now in his eyes: lust. He was lusting so badly for my mouth to wrap around his cock, and then fuck him and cum right up his tight smooth muscular ass.

Tim pushed me through my door, and down onto my knees. I didn't resist, and pulled his sweats down to his ankles as I went. His eight-inch cock bounced up at attention, and I wrapped my lips around the uncut piece of steel. Dumped by his girlfriend, Camilla, earlier that day, on top of the Jets losing badly during Monday's game, and now, having learned that he was being passed over as starter for the third-string QB, he needed some comforting.

And I was the one to provide it. All his troubles went away as the tip of his cock slid into my mouth, right back to my throat. Tim Tebow, the ultra-religious, poster-boy for Christian values, and heartbreakingly gorgeous Quarterback of the New York Jets smiled that smile which could melt ice, and moaned with pleasure. Tebow and I were, very secretly, lovers. Had been for well over a month, and we took full advantage of whatever time together we could.

It wasn't always like this though. I'd been friends with Tim since his Heisman days, but we'd never done anything. While he was in Denver, I'd flown out for a few of his games. We'd had drinks afterwards, and I realized that there was something more to him than what the public saw. When he was traded to the Jets, it worked out well for both of us. I'd been living in New York for a year by then, and for the first few weeks with the Jets, he'd crashed in my guest room.

Sharing a condo with one of the most recognized football stars certainly put a crimp in my lifestyle. I'd been quite the swinger, usually bringing home a different guy every night (sometimes more than one). I was well known in Soho, and in the gay club scene. I even owned a share of one of the newest clubs, but when you're letting one of the most religious sports guys crash at your place, bringing home tricks isn't really something that would go over well in the press.

So I toned it down, and just jacked off a couple times during the day, and took a nice ass at work when I could. It was a challenge for me to keep my orientation a secret from Tim. He'd never known while I was with him in Florida, and I never really publicized it until I took over my uncles company. Even then, I didn't really act gay, just liked a nice ass to fuck. Still, though, when you're sharing a bathroom with Tim Tebow, and you nearly walk into each other, both wearing just a towel still wet from the shower, it was a challenge to keep my increasing lust in check.

By the third week of the Preseason, Tim had gotten his own place, so I was free again to resume my ways. But I'd gotten so used to seeing the bulk and hotness of Tim, that anyone that wasn't him didn't excite me the way they used to. I found a couple of guys to fuck that looked like him, but they didn't truly look like him. They didn't have his rock hard arms, toned chest, intoxicating smell, or smile either. I eventually gave up finding lookalikes, and delved to the internet for pictures and videos of him.

Throughout the season, we would have lunch whenever he was around; sometimes dinner, before we'd go to a club of his choice. After he'd been living at my place, I got used to the press that followed him around. Most of them knew me now too, since they'd seen us together while he was staying with me. I'd actually been amazed that none of them picked up my scent. I didn't test it though, since I didn't want to lose the friendship with Tim, or lose the chance to be near him.

He dated off and on while in New York, and I usually became a bit of a sounding board for him whenever a relationship didn't work out. Once he'd even gotten plastered (not common for Tim) after a particularly vicious and bad breakup, and crashed in my guest room. I managed to pull some strings and kept it out of the press, and out of the locker room, but something changed after that day. Something I didn't think he'd ever admit to.

About 3 o'clock in the morning, with his left arm draped around my shoulders as we walked the corridor to my suite, Tim mumbled his frustrations of leaving Denver. "Damn Manning...and now I'm in a town with another...and not getting a chance to play."

"You're getting a couple of plays," I said as we reached the door. "You'll get another chance like Denver. You were amazing there, Tim."

"Thanks babe," he mumbled, as I opened the door.

"'babe'? Tim?" I asked getting him onto the couch.

He looked up at me, and smiled that smile. "Yeah, babe. You really think I didn't know you were gay?"

"Since when?" I asked dropping to the couch beside him.

"Probably since I realized that you gave me smaller towels the longer I stayed in the guest room."

I blushed, and smiled. Here was one of the most religious, and media grabbing sports stars essentially saying he didn't care I was gay. But there was something more, and I wasn't sure what. "Thanks, Tim."

Tim smiled again, and I managed to get him into the bedroom and onto the bed before he fell asleep. I stood back and looked at him, and resisted undressing him (at least for real), and let him sleep. The next morning he'd left before I'd even woken up. I found a note stuck to my bedroom door thanking me for getting him home safe. I wasn't sure if he remembered the conversation, and dropped it when we talked after that.

Everything between us changed, though, when he broke his ribs in Seattle. I'd been in Seattle already for a few days before negotiating a deal, and Tim had gotten me a sideline pass for the game warm-ups. It had been a while since I'd seen him in full uniform that close. I'd nearly forgotten how hot he looked. Nearly forgot.

As I watched the practice, and chatted with Rex Ryan and Mark Sanchez, I sensed that the breaks within the team were widening. As Tim met with one of his foundation kids, I stood back to watch him. He kept looking over to me, a mischievous smile on his lips. As the warm-ups ended, he jogged over to me.

"You stayin' for the whole game?"

"Yeah, I'm going to be up in the Seahawks box," I said sheepishly.

"You're what?!" Tim said fawning insult.

I lightly punched him in the arm. "I know Paul. He and my uncle were good friends."

"Traitor," Tim said flatly. He then glanced to me and grinned. "Enjoy the game, ba--bro."

I smiled at the slip, and I caught the edge of his cheeks flushing pink. I realized then that he remembered that conversation. He quickly jogged off towards the locker rooms, and I headed off to the owner's box. Though he did look back when I did, and we caught each other's glance. He smirked a bit, from what I could see, before he disappeared into the tunnel.

I joined Paul in the Seahawk's owners box, and was the only sour face in the box as the Seahawks trounced the Jets 28-7. I cringed a bit though, when I saw Tim get crushed. He seemed fine, and when I saw him afterwards all he said he had was some soreness. The Jets were travelling back shortly afterwards, and I still had some business in Seattle, so we agreed on a dinner later in the week. He gave me that smile again, and I nearly melted. Now, I was convinced, he was just playing with me.

I wasn't able to make it back to New York, so we had had to postpone out dinner. But I watched the Rams game, and Skyped him afterwards to congratulate him.

"Thanks bro," he said, looking distracted.

"What's wrong?"

"Not sleeping well, and my ribs are still sore."

"What've the doctors said?"

"I'm seeing them again in the morning. They think it's a fractured rib."

"Damn, Tim. Take care of yourself. You've got a good career ahead."

He laughed, and flashed that smile. "Yes, dear," he said smirking.

I laughed, and we disconnected. I was back in New York by Thanksgiving, and joined the team on the sideline for pre-game warm-ups. Tim had a bunch of his foundation kids with him that day, so I just chatted with a couple of the other guys.

"You're Tebow's friend, right?" asked Nick Mangold.

"Yeah."

"Oh. Well, okay," he said and then started to head away.

"Mangold, hold up. What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, bro. Just let it slide."

I did. Especially since I didn't want to argue with the 6-4, 300lbs center. Tim walked over a minute later.

"What was that about?"

"Not sure," I said, and looked at him. "I've gotta get off the field now. Give Tom Hell!"

"Gonna work on that. Don't think he's forgiven me for Denver yet!"

"He will," I said, and then made my way up into the stands.

I had gotten a suite for the game to entertain some Boston business contacts. They wanted to see the Patriots and I could work on a deal. I glad handed my way through the suite, and by half-time they were having a grand time watching the Patriots score 35-points! By the end of the game I think I was the only Jet fan who was celebrating, but not because of the final score. I'd negotiated a multi-million dollar deal, mainly because they felt that New York could use Boston's help.

After the game I waited in the parking lot for the team to leave. Tim was one of the last, and none of the guys wanted to talk. When Tim walked out the tunnel he saw me and smiled. He had his duffle bag by his side, instead of over his shoulder.

"Hey, bro," I said as he approached. "What happened to giving them Hell?"

"Tom decided he was going to make up for what I did in Denver."

"You need a lift?"

"I need a drink!" Tim said, wrapping an around my shoulders. He winced.

"I saw that."

"What?" he asked pulling his arm from my shoulders, and rubbing his side.

"That!" I said pointing. "The doctors really said nothing?"

"They said I was cleared to play."

"Then why weren't you out there when Mark was throwing the ball everywhere but to a guy!?"

Tim smirked and climbed into the passenger side of the car. "I don't want to talk about that. Can we just have drinks at your place? I don't really want to face the press at my apartment."

"Sure," I said as I put the Camero into gear, and headed out of the Meadowlands parking lot. It took about 30-minutes to get into the city, and to my Condo. We made our way upstairs, and eventually crashed on the couch. We hadn't said much during the drive, and Tim had been dozing off. I poured him a scotch, which I knew he liked, and poured myself a double vodka shot with ice.

I handed him the glass and he took it thankfully. As we sat there sipping at our drinks, he stretched out on the couch, and rested his legs on my lap. His socked feet slowly began to caress my chest. I leaned back and looked over at him. His eyes were closed, his hands resting on his chest cupping the glass and a smile on his lips.

His foot slid across my chest, and found its way to my armpit. I stretched my arm along the back of the couch, and he extended his foot right up into my armpit. I let my arm fall onto his leg, and started to massage his massive thighs. He flexed his legs for me, and I felt my dick tense up against my jeans.

I shifted position on the couch to loosen up the tension on my dick. "What's wrong babe?" asked Tim, his eyes still closed.

"You're getting me hard," I said.

"Good," he said, then opened his eyes a slit and grinned at me. "I was hoping I would. I never thought that being me and being gay could work. And the Lord knows I can't be gay in public. But here, with you right now, I'd let you do to me whatever you've done to those six guys you brought home that looked like me."

I was stunned. "How the fuck, Tim, did you know that?"

"I didn't. Until now," he said, his grin widening.

"Bastard," I said, putting my glass down on the table and reaching for his to do the same.

I then climbed on top of his muscular chest, and looked him in his eyes. That lust shone through like some sort of biblical revelation. I leaned forward and let my lips rest on his. They were moist and tender, and salty. Some sweat had run from his face onto his lips. It was a wonderfully amazing taste. I slipped my tongue between his lips, and Tim responded by wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me right onto him.

I felt my growing cock grind up against his. My jeans and his sweats the only barriers between flesh. I didn't resist when he pulled me even closer, and ground my crotch into his. I forced my tongue down his throat as I wrapped my arms around his neck. His hands found their way to my ass and started to massage. I moaned.

"Wait," I said suddenly breaking off the kiss. "What happened to your sore ribs?"

"Shut the fuck up, TJ, I want that cock of yours in my ass, and it'll never happen if you keep breaking off the foreplay." Tim then pulled me right down on top of him and slipped his tongue into my mouth.

Our tongues met and as we played tonsil hockey with each other, Tim slipped his hands down to the front of my jeans. He masterfully released my belt and slid my jeans down my waist just enough that he could get his huge hand around my cock. I moaned as he gripped my 7-inch cock with the same force he gripped the football. He started stroking my cock, and ran his free hand up my spine. I shivered. His hand reached my neck and slowly began massaging my neck, keeping my lips locked to his.

My hips were now a few inches from him, leaving room for my hands to replicate what he was doing. I slid my hand down his sweats and found his 8-inch uncut cock, rock hard and pulsating. Wrapping my fingers around his cock I started to stroke him. I could feel his moans in my mouth as his tongue paused its exploration. I felt a trace of pre-cum on the tip of his dick.

Tim pushed me up into a seated position, and then onto my back. Only for a moment did our lips lose contact, but in that moment I longed for the taste of his sweat, and the sweet taste of his mouth. His scent was intoxicating: a mix of sweat, lust and Axe bodywash. He was now looking down on me, and pulled his t-shirt up over his head. The crucifix he always wore, swung free and tapped me on the chin a few times. I followed the silver chain up to his thick neck, and then along his shoulders to his arms. My eyes rested on his biceps.

Strong and powerful, those arms could life a house. But at that moment I watched as they wrapped themselves around my chest, fingers linking over my spine. Tim pulled me back to him and up stared right into my eyes. He was going to say something, but I stopped him with a tender kiss on his lips. My arms wrapped around his chest and I ran a finger down his spine. He shuddered, his head flinging back looking up at the ceiling, and groaned.

"Fuck! What did you do?"

I smiled. "You said treat you the way I treated the lookalikes. A little caress down the spine usually helps to loosen up the bottom. Especially before I breed him."

Tim moaned again. I hadn't stopped running a finger along his spine. "Please, TJ. I need something to confess to this week that isn't so fucking angelic!"

A grin spread across my face, and I pushed Tim down to my cock. He looked at it the way a puppy watches for a stick to be thrown. He slowly opened his mouth. I didn't give him the chance to go down on me, as I raised my hips forcing my cock up and into his mouth right the way back to his throat.

He gaged slightly, but took my 7-inches masterfully. Slowly he slid my shirt up and over my head. His eyes opened briefly and took in my clipped and toned torso and chest. Tim's fingers rested on my nipples and started to massage them. My head dropped back onto the arm of the couch, and I moaned. So far, getting blown by Tim Tebow was the best sex I had had in years. But I knew he wanted more.

I lifted my head off of the couch, and brought my hands to either side of his head. Slowly I pulled him off my aching cock.

"What?"

"I think I'm lubbed up enough for that nice ass of yours."

"You sure? I mean, it's never taken anything other than a dildo."

"Jesus Christ!"

"Hey! I may be about to get fucked by you, but don't bring him into this."

"Fuck, Tim. Sorry."

Tim blushed, and sat on the couch. "I'm sorry, TJ. You're so beautiful, and I'm still getting used to my feelings I've got for you."

I knelt down in front of him so that I could look into his eyes without him having to raise up his head. "It's a lot for you Tim. I'm kneeling here in front of you, wanting so much to just fuck the brains out of you, and I'm staring right at a crucifix! Tim, if you don't want to do this, tell me. Stop me know before you regret any of this. You're the most religious of NFLers. You pray whenever you get a TD!"

Tim laughed. "'Tebowing'," he said. "I don't want to stop, TJ. Of everyone in this world that I would want to do this with, it's you. Do you remember that last week in Florida when we toured the CSI: Miami locations?"

"Yeah. I've still got that picture of us posing in the DNA lab in my den."

"So do I. But I've cum to that picture so many fucking times that I want to cum to the real thing. Even if it's just once! Please, TJ."

I looked up at Tim, past Jesus Christ hanging from his neck, and pushed him back against the couch. I bent down and wrapped my mouth around his cock and slowly brought it back up to its 8-inches. Sucking on him brought mine back up to full strength. I slid his shoes off along with his sweats, and then pushed my jeans down to my ankles.

Releasing his cock I spit into my hand and slowly worked it onto my own cock. Bending down I raised his pantless legs up over my head and rested them on my shoulders. Looking right into the pinkness of his asshole, I spit into it and worked the spit into his hole with my tongue. I heard Tim moan, but no objections, so I kept working my tongue around his ass. I spit onto it a few more times until there was a sheen of spit.

I knelt up on my knees and angled my spit-lubed cock right to his hole. Tim's eyes were closed and he was bracing himself for my cock. I slowly let the head of my cock slide up and down his ass crack, and when I sensed Tim relax I rammed my dick right into his hole.

"Aaaarrgh! Oh fuck!!" he screamed deeply as his fingers dug into my couch.

I went all in so quickly, I didn't realize until my balls slammed his ass. "Oh fuck!" I moaned in response.

"Please. Please. Please," was all he could say.

I slowly started pumping my cock into his ass. Out a bit, then back in. Out a bit more, then right back in. Back out again. And in again. Slowly at first, then faster and faster. It wasn't long until I was pounding his ass so hard my balls rhythmic slapping added to my pleasure.

I could see Tim's pleasure all over his face, chest, abs and cock. A layer of sweat was quickly covering all of his body. I ran a hand over his sweat soaked abs collecting some of the salty sweetness I craved. Bringing the hand up to my mouth, I first inhaled his scent. I moaned and pounded him harder. Tim moaned and gripped the couch. He then opened his eyes and saw me sucking on my fingers.

"Salty sweet?" he said between moans. I just grinned and thrust my dick hard into his ass. "If you keep thrusting like that," he said, "I'm gonna shoot before you do."

I looked down to see his cock oozing precum. I licked my lips and reached down and started to stroke his cock. Hard. I quickly got into a full rhythm of stroke-slam-stroke-slam. Faster and harder I went, and equally louder Tim became. The sweat now defined every one of his muscles as they pulsated under the pressure of my fucking.

His arms were tensing up, his abs turning to rock, and his fingers dug deep into the cushions of the couch. I felt his cock pulse at the moment his ass clamped down around my cock. I moaned, and slowed my fucking. I didn't want to cum just yet. Tim didn't have a choice. He screamed, and I felt a blast of cum hit me on the chin.

Another blast hit me under the arm. Another hit me right between my pecs. More cum poured out of his cock, pulse after pulse shooting into the air and coming down like rain onto both of us. I watched as his cum mixed with his sweat. Slowly the cum stopped flying, and I heard his breathing mellow. But I wasn't done, and I hadn't cum yet.

Letting go of his cock I pounded his ass hard. He moaned and I felt his ass grab my dick again. This time I didn't resist, and I felt the cum course through my dick and fill up his virgin ass. The sensation was so intense that I suddenly lost my grip on his thighs and began to fall backwards. Suddenly I felt Tim's hands wrap around my wrists and pull me back to him. Groaning I felt his strong hands on my wrists and my cum flooding his ass and I could smell his sweat and his cum right under my nose. I could taste it on my lips.

Opening my eyes I looked right into Tim's. He had pulled me right ontop of him and, his lips covered in his cum, had begun to kiss me. I didn't resist and slid up to him letting my cock pop out of his ass. My tongue captured some of the cum on his cheek and my chin before mixing it with his spit behind his lips. Salty and sweet and sweaty, he tasted like he smelled.

Slowly we broke apart. I dropped down to the floor in front of him, covered in sweat and cum. Leaning against the coffee table I looked up along his torso to his face. He had a slight smile and was looking down at his chest. He laughed.

"What?"

"Jesus Christ got a taste of cum," he said and held up his crucifix. A long strand of cum, his and mine mixed probably, trailed behind it right down to his chest.

"Hope he enjoyed it as much as I did," I said looking right into Tim's eyes.

"I know I did," he said. "There's something else I know, too."

"What?"

"That this, that we've done here, is special. No one but us can share it."

"Now why would I want to share this with anyone else?"

Tim smiled. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, babe, I do. But I tell you what."

"What?"

Why don't we go and have a shower. Together."

"Together?"

"Yeah. You play football, don't you have showers in your locker room?"

"We do. But if we did there, what I can see in your smirk you want to do here, there would be a whole mess of trouble."

"What do I want to do here?" I asked as I stood up, pulling him to his feet as I went.

"You want to fuck my ass again."

I grinned. "It is a thought. As long as you're not too sore from now."

"Sore? No. But I do have a request."

"Sure," I said as we reached the bathroom.

"How about you wear the really small towels from now on."

I laughed. "How about we just forgo the towels completely!"

"That works too," said Tim as he followed me into the shower.