Disclaimer/Reminder: The following story is a work of gay fiction although based on non-fictional occurrences. It contains sexual acts between males in high school as well as with males beyond high school age. There are scenes of definite humiliation, some of them graphic. If this subject matter is offensive to you or if you are too young to be reading it, please exit now. You have been warned. This story is the property of the author under U.S. copyright laws, and may not be used elsewhere without written consent. Otherwise enjoy. Emails expressing interest or wishing further information can be sent to: mtnuda@hotmail.com.
Note: All names and locations have been altered to protect the innocent. The state in which the story originally happened - coincidentally - has a legal age of sixteen; the "fictionalized" location does not. Also descriptions of unprotected sex are fictional due to story restraints. You understand you are reading a work of fiction; behave accordingly. Again, do not read this if you're a minor or are offended by gay situations or activities which can be classified as bdsm.
Now, back to our show --
Chapter Eighty-Seven
"I think of art, at its most significant, as a DEW line,
a Distant Early Warning system that can always be relied on
to tell the old culture what is beginning to happen to it."
Marshall McLuhan
Saturday Aug 10 continued
"Enough, Br-Bruno..." John Bigfoot muttered in his ear "my turn now" and he grabbed both of Brian's hips, not surprised by the shudder that ran down them at his touch. If anything the kid was primed and loaded, he reminded himself. When one hand drifted from Brian's firm muscled asscheek towards the lightly-haired crack, Brian shuddered again, his quivering motion directed right into Kroos' prostate, pulling a gurgled moan from the big guy. With a certain amount of effort, John managed to extract Brian from the greasy wet hole, replacing Brian's bright red hardon with his much larger longer one. He made no effort to conceal the motion of his nine-plus dick sliding a few inches into Kroos, then back out for the lens at his hip, the torpedo head shiny with gel and cum. He slid it back in again, the narrow end preparing the ring for the much thicker stem.
John pumped his hips slowly and deliberately into Kroos, keeping one eye on Brian's crotch at his side. So no one could hear him he leaned forward until his front was plastered against Kroos' hairy sweating back,
"You can stop this any time..."
"Urghh.... arghh... yes..." Kroos' sound-track wired directly to his knob "yes... yes!... I know..."
"Tell me to stop this..." staccato time harder in lubed butt.
"I cannot..."
"Then..." thrusting with each word "know... this... the... time... is... near!" making sure Kroos felt the exclamation point right where he lived.
"Who!?!" Kroos tried to raise himself, but John stayed weighted on him "who are you?!?!"
"This is who we are" and John slammed a series of numbers and words deep into Kroos, not that he would forget them. Knowing he delivered the payload and seeing the first signs of Brian's cock wilting, John slid out and pulled him back into place, even though the kid's load was already inside Kroos' hairy butt. Brian looked down at his cock, no longer spooked when John's hard encircled it and guided it back home into that slimy slippery hole. He got several lunges in and swore he felt it hardening again when Mort grabbed him.
"Hold yer horses bud" Mort's hand on his muscled beefy shoulder.
"Hey! Don't tell me the party's over alread--"
"Far from it" from Arn, trading looks with Coach Bernan "but we don't wanna wear out our guest" looking at Kroos "prematurely, right?"
"But I'm getting-- "
"Soon as we get him cleaned up" Arn looked at Mort "Morrie?"
"Who me?"
"Get him to the showers... coach" Arn took a few steps away from Kroos, running his gaze over the half-naked, or totally naked here and there, group on stage, closing the distance towards Moose "you! You help the coach."
"What? Me?" Moose looked around, hoping he meant someone else, then his gaze settled on his cousin Mort.
"Fraid another shower might shrink yer dick?" that got a chuckle from a few, especially Brian and Matt's thin former shadow.
"But" from Mort "if he can do it y'don't need me -- "
"Both of you!" from Arn "hurry up before Kro--Kris here loses... interest" grabbing Kroos by the shoulder and turning him around. Even with all the stress and the ordeal so far, Kroos' bone was still the hard red tool from before. And the cameras made sure they made an issue of it.
"C'mon... coach" Moose stepped over to Kroos, one hand wrapping a towel around his hips "let's get ya cleaned... up... coach" giving Bernan a hard mean look "right?"
"Moo-Mooney, do not get involved in this" Kroos lowered his voice but allowed Moose to direct him to the other side of the stage, parting the group as he did "you don not know what -- "
"Nothin I ain't..." catching the eye of that John guy watching all this like a hawk "handled before, right? We're cool" then whispering "you okay?"
"Yes... thank you" Kroos put his arm around Moose's thick shoulder, walking a bit bowlegged through the fake doorframe into the shower area. The first shower head was already on. And warm!
"Okay" Moose directed Kroos towards the spray, losing his towel in the process. He leaned down to pick it up, but already it was a soaked dirty mess. He glanced down at his exposed state, then glared at one of the cameras coming around the dividing wall. At least he wasn't showing total wood; for some reason that would have been felt weird now. As he got Kroos under the stream, getting wet and shiny in the process, he managed to steal some quick furtive glances towards the audience. And hoping Soulman was keeping an eye on him as well, him and his wet flexing butt. What the fuck, he shrugged to himself, they want a show, let's give'm a show. I mean give Soulman a show! Let's make it interesting for the stud. When he looked again at Kroos finishing rinsing, he heard,
"Go make sure those two horndogs ain't trading blowjobs in there" from that Arn guy. Whoever the fuck he was, he was really starting to get on Moose's nerves. He just appears from nowhere and what? He's now like running the whole show? So Moose was more than surprised, even startled, when he saw Mort's head through the doorway.
"You two about finished in there?"
"I think Kr-I mean the coach here is toast..." Moose's little gears were starting to spin and churn, nothing like a splash of water on the bod to get Moose calculating strategies, juggling scenarios, his cousin looking very overdressed standing there. Moose had seen Mort shirtless before; now was his chance to throw the dice "don't just stand there like a big lummox c'mere and gimme a hand" Moose put his arm around Kroos' waist "the gorilla here's more'n I can carry."
"I am fine" Kroos said, his head under the spray.
"Naw, yer fagged out from all the...y'know" Moose whispered "slide down t'your knees."
"What?" Kroos whispered back.
"Jus do it Kroos" Moose whispered "I'm buyin ya time-- "
"But I do not--" but Moose twisted his knee behind Kroos' and shifted his weight, causing Kroos to lose his balance, the wrestling move Kroos could have countered with ease had he been firing on a cylinders. The next thing Kroos knew he was half-toppling to the floor, Moose supporting him as he deflated like a ruptured punching bag.
"Get over here coach!" Moose played it up good "coach's passing out..."
Had Mort been firing on all cylinders he would have noticed his cousin's half-smirk, but the big goof fell for it and lunged the three steps over to them fast. As soon as he did, Moose "accidentally" bumped Mort into the shower spray, drenching him from the chest down. As Moose was gambling, Mort's "costume" did not include underwear! So really does run in the family, he chuckled. The fuckin Muskowski genes to the rescue!
Moose had never caught his cousin naked, no matter how many times he thought he could finagle it. And it was something he had tried for when they were both younger. His family -- even some of his friends -- had always commented on how much the two resembled each other, especially after Moose's body started changing and filling out. But Moose always came out second-best in the comparisons. Well let's just see, he thought. Let's see if he's the big stud everyone always makes him out to be.
"DAMNit!" Mort tried to jump free of the spray, but it was too late. It took all of a second or two to soak him, and the flimsy material of his shorts did little to cover what was beneath.
"Sorry... cu--coach" Moose caught his cuz's eye, made a point of looking at his crotch, his stare very obvious. Had he known it would be this easy, he would of pulled this same stunt years ago! Man, how different his life would have been right? Or not?
"MotherFUCK!" Mort looked down at himself, then glared at Moose's upper torso only.
"What's the matter coach?" Moose bit his lip to keep from laughing, and to keep from springing up "it's not like some drunk pissed on ya or anything."
"Damn you Moose" Mort whispered "why'd you come here tonight? You got no business getting mixed up in --"
"C'mon coach" Moose got a hold of Kroos with one hand and turned off the shower with the other "help me get this big boy back."
"You did that on--"
"Stop being a wuss it's only water" Moose tried to wrestled Kroos to his feet, while whispering: play dead! It dawned on Mort in slow soggy stages he was needed to help Moose get Kroos standing. And that meant more jostling around the water and pressing up against both of their naked wet bodies. Mort instead backed up and reached the shower valve killing the water, ending up lifting more than his share of Kroos' dead weight off the tiles, propping him against the wall like a drunk sailor threatening to topple this way, no that, back and forth, until the chuckles from the mixing board told Moose he made his point. But Moose was doing less lifting than wiggling his wet nakedness around, sometimes buttressing against Kroos, and damn! sometimes pressing his crotch against his cousin's hip. A few times Mort had give him a nasty look to keep the warm rubbing flesh off him, but Moose just shrugged knowing he had to make his move fast before that Arn bastard started tapping his watch like a coach! Moose laughed at that one, yeah somebody's jackoff fantasy of a coach maybe, not his. His jackoff fantasy was right in front of him, and his uber-jackoff fantasy was somewhere out in the darkness watching this! Any attempts to keep all this rubbing and wriggling from getting himself boned went out the window then and there. Yeah, Mort saw it and started to whisper something but Kroos was back on his feet, and the three of them started to stagger their way home. Kroos gave Moose a look: what are you playing at!?!?
"Sometimes y'gotta follow the script" Moose led Kroos through the door "or your hunch whichever is harder" making sure Mort caught that last part, nodding down at his crotch to drive the point home. Moose resumed his spot on the bench while Mort dragged the star back to Arn.
"Okay he's all cleaned up" Moose yelled over Arn, daring him to start something "y'happy now?"
"Maybe" was all Arn managed. He looked at the shower entrance, seeing Brian and John Bigfoot disappear around the corner, then the sound of a shower, no two starting up.
"Where's that towel boy?" Doug laughed following Moose's lead "hey coach, y'needin a towel?" meaning: if you're gonna signal hands off you're gonna have to strip down to do it! Moose hi-fived him for his brilliance.
But Mort just frowned at both of them and went to one of the lockers. He opened it, then slammed it shut with a soft "fuck!"
"So I gotta do all the work?" Moose was egging Mort still "wait!" and he jumped across the stage, splattering water everywhere. He came back from the shower room with his soaked towel, "here!" and overhanded it at Mort. Mort grabbed at it before it hit him, but it still splattered him head to toe.
"Think that's funny?"
"Just doin what y'always tell us. Be a good team player" Moose looked around and noticed that Doughboy dude and his ever-present disposable camera was missing from the action. Moose just came from the shower room so he could not be back there could he? On a hunch he jumped and slid his way through the doorway again, a shiny wet trail forming on the floor, came around the corner and what would he find but Brian standing there with his dick down the throat of his tag-team partner, Mister Bigfoot kneeling on the tiles masturbating his meat. And who should have materialized there taking pics of the whole thing? None other.
"Guess y'won't be needin this then" Moose yanked the towel from around Doughboy's ample midsection, the safety pin flying halfway across the room. So that's how he kept in on this whole time, Moose rolled his eyes. But boy was the guy pissed!
"Dude, didn't mean t'embarrass ya!" Moose chuckled and jumped back before the guy took a swing at him "and I do mean 'bare ass' man" and Moose and his hard-won towel raced back to the locker area, drying himself as he did. He handed the used towel to Mort, in all fifteen seconds timed.
"Somethin t'remember me by" almost shoving it into his cousin's face "sorry I ain't got anything else to offer" giving a quick glance to his crotch, then stealing a look back at the audience before one of the cameras moved in the way. He looked at Doug with a half grin, then back at Mort who was standing there with egg on his face and a wet towel in his hand.
"Sorry to interrupt yer show" Moose slid down next to Doug on the bench "now where were we -- I mean you?"
"That's enough outa you" Arn turned from Moose back to Kroos, yanking him like the rag doll he appeared to be. Kroos made a token effort to pull away, but it was no good "Coach didn't ya say y'were looking forward t'the next stud buttfucking you" he looked over at that "Rick" guy getting chummy with Matt.
"Go on man" Matt almost pushed him off balance "and give my dick a break!" looking down where the guy had been jerking it like it was his own. Suddenly the idea of doing the rest of the show butt naked had some appeal. But he sat there in his underwear, and buried his hands in his lap, covering his hardness.
"Maybe I ain't into..." he got his feet under him, looking around the room, then at the cameras wheeling into place.
"Like hell" Matt growled "y'been playin with my dick like ya never seen one before."
"Fine!" the guy spun around "then you do it!"
"Finally!" Matt was back on his feet in a flash, but his hard tube came poking out the fly as he did. Several of the guys closer to him gestured at his long hard cock out and pointing upstream.
"What's yer hurry, y'double-parked?" Arn intercepted him.
"It's past the kid's bedtime" came from the round guy with the large red nipples, hoping to attract Moose's attention again. A few laughed, but Matt glared at him.
"At least I can still get it up old man!"
"Who y'callin old?" he yelled back, his hairy belly tightening and bracing for the fight. His balding forehead was getting as red as those nipples, his blood pressure going over the top.
"You, grampa!"
"Okay enough!" from Bernan, shooting a quick look at Mister Smith. But Mister Jones was beelining for the guys on the folding chairs. It sounded like the granddaddy of all fights was breaking out!
"What's all the racket back there?" Mister Smith yelled over his shoulder as he passed the console, trying hard to get Bernan's attention. When he did, he signaled for Bernan to repeat the line.
"What's all the noise, who's makin all the racket?" Bernan repeated, seeing Mister Smith signaling him again. Slowly he got the idea to address the question to the back wall, not towards of the audience. Several of the guys on stage almost laughed at the goof-up. Shit who's running this show? the Three Stooges?
"What's all the RACKet?" Bernan went to that missing section of the back wall almost cupping his hands "ain't you guys finished back there yet?"
"Wha-aaaa-a?" from Rocko, sounding like he was half block away.
"Hey...Rick" Bernan repeated "can't you keep the racket down, we're tryin to..."
"Yeah" from Moose "we're tryin to go over drills-- I mean drill!" he was holding his cock like a pistol aimed at Mort.
"You...ready. To. LEAVE?" Bernan repeated the line twice, like it was rehearsed. Which it was. He was hoping the pre-arranged cue would jog Rocko's memory eventually.
"Wel--I mean we..." you could almost hear him shuffling papers, looking for his line "we... Got. A. Problem. Boss?" Rocko was no actor, but he got the line out.
"What problem?" Bernan asked the hole in the wall, getting distracted by Mort trying to get his attention.
"It's my... coworkers" Rocko read.
"What about them?"
"All of this got... them... real horny."
"So?" Bernan looked at Mort, what already?
"Can they join-- I mean can y'help us out?"
"What are you pulling?"
"This... boss" Rocko's crotch appeared at opening, tugging at something long and hard in his pants.
"What do you think you're doing?!?!" Mort yelled in the wrong direction. The fist fight going on somewhere in the darkness was getting out of control judging by the sounds coming from back there. He was about to intervene and stop these bulls from busting up his place when Rocko ad-libbed,
"Guess I misunderstood."
"Damn right!" Arn tried to look angry and indignant, but his expression was more high anxiety from the ruckus he was hearing as well.
"Make the coach do it!" Moose yelled at Mort "go on!"
Mort spun on him, almost thinking Moose was suggesting he take care of Rocko's hard-up need there and then. Moose's expression let him know he wasn't kidding.
Bernan came to Mort's rescue,
"Whoever has the balls -- or the dick! -- to stand by the opening... well Coach here can take care of the rest" he rattled off the lines and came over to Mort. Mort panicked thinking he was "Coach" now!
"What's yer fuckin problem?" he whispered to Mort.
"Look I mean not me! I gotta change y'don't expect me to -- "
"So?" Bernan looked around, catching Moose's eye and giving him a threatening scowl "so change into something already!"
"All the clothes're backstage!"
"Well ya got a damn towel!" and he went back to Kroos who was standing there, looking a bit lost.
"Okay... coach" Bernan looked at Arn, gesturing at Kroos "y'don't mind helping out our construction workers do ya?"
"Do what?"
"C'mere... Coach" Arn grabbed Kroos by the shoulder, his hand rubbing the hairy deltoids up to his traps, counting the minutes until all of this meat would be on the end of his pole. He gave himself a tug as he directed Kroos over to the opening "just lean forward and say 'aaaah'."
"What?" Kroos pulled away, getting the picture fast "you want me to --"
"Just like before. Do it!"
Kroos looked around the stage, almost expecting Moose or someone to come to his aid. He was little suprised no one did, but very glad Joel was finally out of the picture somewhere backstage and out of harms way. Arn led him over to the back wall, telling him exacting where to stand. In order to get his face to the hole he had to lean forward over the bench, almost losing his balance, until Arn told him to grab the stud below the opening. Of course that position thrust his hips back, all but painting a bullseye on his ass. When Arn started knocking his feet farther apart, Kroos knew what was coming next. In spite of it he gave a shudder when Bernan started smearing something slimy and cold around his freshly-cleaned hole. It did not take long before he could feel the stinging itching start again. The damn green gel was back ringing the bell for Round Two!
Kroos flexed his muscular asscheeks almost involuntarily, spasming as the fingers spread the goo deeper into his tender hole. He let out a loud hiss, grabbing the wall stud for support.
"Y'like that don't ya?" Bernan grunted "to think one of my own assistant coaches is so eager to have this done to him! And in front of everyone like this" but his fingers continued their job to the third knuckled "just bend over like that, can't wait til a real man opens yer fuck-hole like that can ya?"
"Damnnnn" Kroos growled, his eyes squeezed tight with the discomfort.
"Say it Kro-Kris" Bernan jabbed his fingers in harder "say y'like that!"
"Ease up!" from Moose, half-hidden behind Doug's shoulder "we ain't here t'kill'm already!"
Maybe you'd like t'change places with him?" Mort sought out the voice, zeroing in on Moose.
"Nah, that's YOUR dirty secret!" Moose taunted him back.
"Y'wanna try--"
"Allright leave it!" from Arn, shooting a look at both of them. He shouted into the wall opening "okay who's man enough?"
"For what?" came from a voice behind the wall.
"Shuddup and get over there" and that was Rocko's, no mistake.
There was a bit of muffled arguing before someone's midsection appeared in the opening, then a second, both wearing the regulation "repairman" uniform, the one with the stretched front obviously Rocko.
"Okay Rick" Arn waved over Matt's tormentor "I need you here" and stood him very close to Kroos' backside. Arn replaced Bernan and reached under Kroos' waist grabbing him by the cock. Kroos let out a yelp and lunged backwards, making contact with Rick's semi-hard pressing against his briefs.
"Okay... Coach... all y'gotta do is help out these hard workers here... well at least one is. So how about the other dude, he needs some help right? Just reach up and let that dude's equipment out for some air" Arn said loud enough for all to hear. He used his other hand to lift Kroos' head so he had no doubt what he needed to do "go on. Fish it out."
Kroos used one hand to steady himself and the other to unbuckle that guy's belt. At first he tried to buck away, but it looked like guy with the saugage in his pants was keeping him in place.
"Fuck, Rocko" the guy, obvious Ed, said almost loud enough to be heard "don't make me do this--"
"Y'want me t'tell them bout last mon-"
"Shit! You told me--"
"Y'let the doc drain yer load in front of these dudes and nobodys the wiser, got it?"
"But--"
"Got it?" and Rocko grabbed Ed by the waist, shoving him as far forward as he could go. After a few moments of wiggling, Ed let Kroos undo his buckle.
"Yeah, get all his smelly sweaty shit off him and make that dick feel reeeeeealll gooooood" Arn kept his grip on that long hard uncut dick like it was his own personal joystick "and no matter what happens, keep that mouth on his dick, got it?" giving it a hard squeeze for emphasis. Kroos grunted in response.
"Good" Arn was startled to see Mister Smith coming from behind the lights, bringing some new dudes towards the stage. After some discussion, one of them, no two, were actually joining the group on stage.
Kroos managed to unbuckle Ed's pants in spite of his squirming but not until Rocko used his massive arms to pin him against the wall opening, keeping his resistance to several inches at most, Kroos able to unsnap his pants and unzip his fly. With the slightest effort from Kroos, Ed's pants were around his knees, due in no small part to Rocko tugging from the back. With three hands tugging down and one tugging up, Kroos and Rocko were able to get the white briefs down past Ed's knees, exposing his bright crotch, glowing red under the moving lights. All attempts at anonymity were lost at that point, only Ern also has such bright red hair, or brighter red pubes, but he was too young and too absent to pass for what appeared in the opening. But that got Moose's attention away from Mort long enough him to get away from the line of fire.
At the Y most of the guys had gotten a good look at Ed's upper body development, his perfect zero-fat musculature ideal for Rocko's little shows. But this was the first time anyone got to see what the stud had been so reluctant to show earlier that afternoon.
"Holy shit!" came from a few directions at once. Moose told himself one of the voices was Ern's out there somewhere. In his mind, the two of them were giving each other slow steady wanks watching this parade of flesh.
Ed's very soft cock already hung down a good seven inches, the circumcized head bright red and very meaty. His furry red balls hung down almost as far!
The camera came around to zoom in for a close-up. Whether he wanted it or not, Ed was now porn-star material. The two Misters were heard whispering loudly back at the console. You could almost hear contracts rustling in the background.
Kroos leaned forward to take just the head in his mouth, feeling the warm sponginess against his tongue. He was starting to feel a swelling reaction when Rocko reached down and grabbed Kroos' free hand. He steered it to his own very swollen crotch, planting it firmly on his bone-hard erection, now outlined by Kroos' grasp.
As Ed's thin cock started growing and lengthening past his tongue and down towards his tonsils, Kroos tried to unzip Rocko's workpants.
"Not so fast cockhound" Rocko said from the opening "just keep it happy and maybe I'll let ya suck it as soon as you finish off my buddy Ed here--"
"Hey no names!" from Ed like an idiot.
"Ed ain't yer real name" Rocko chuckled "it's Long John Dicker remember?"
Which is what he was becoming at that point. Kroos was doing all he could to deep-throat the steadily growing cock without gagging, trying to keep his balance with one hand, now that his left was busy massaging Rocko's hardon through the fabric. So he was little prepared when he felt a blunt spearhead rubbing along his greased hairy crack. And when Arn's hand on his almost-numb cock shoved him backwards he would have impaled himself on that Rick guy's cock had it been out. Then he felt someone's knuckles replace that lump in his crevice and before he could brace himself, that other hand on his cock forced him backwards again, this time the small bared hard head found its target and with a lunge it slid past the ring and before Kroos could catch his breath kept sliding and sliding further in, and kept coming until it was hitting and then rubbing past Kroos' prostate, the long hard tube inside him to the hilt, the narrow head pushing deeper into him than anything tonight as the thicker shaft stretched his ring taut. He would have shouted in pain had Ed's ten-inch hardness not been half-way down his throat by then.
Kroos was just getting used to the broom handle up his asshole when he felt a hard spasming inside his guts and a warm gushing of cum flooded him. It must have been all of sixty seconds from impaling to an abrupt withdrawing of that missile dick.
Rick could not wait to get his cock out of that stinging itchy hole blaming it for making him shoot off prematurely. So his cock was free of the torture and under a shower head in seconds flat not even bothering to stuff it back inside his fly. He was rinsing the slime off his still-oozing cock before Kroos' sphincter even started to contract. Before the camera could see it close totally, another cockhead was smearing itself up and down his crack. He was afraid who this next one might be. When he heard the grunt as the prominent cockhead push past his ring he recognized the voice. Brian was back for another turn!
Unlike that Rick amateur, Brian made a point of punch-fucking his sturdy cockhead all the way out and in several times. Either he was trying to postpone his deep plunge or else -- he lied to himself -- he was mugging for the camera. What he was trying to hide was that this was maybe the third person who ever had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of his amateurish attempts at fucking. No way he wanted it to look like he had never fucked before, or that one of those brutish fumblings had been in a guy! Well not really in -- more like against than in, he told himself, very aware of the difference now he was in a guy's butt deeper than an inch. And not just any guy but the doc himself! The same guy who put him through all those terrible experiments, those horrible exams. All the more horrible because they were exactly what his testosterone-fueled brain would have devised had he ever let those fantasies bubble up from that locked basement of his subconscious. This was Kroos he was fucking now! Kroos who shoved all this in face and now he could never turn back! Big hairy musclebound Kroos riding his ass! Again!
He was almost ready to drop his second load down that hot stinging hole when his eyes flew open, someone's hand on his balls! He was almost disappointed it was not that short big-dicked guy -- Bigdick not Bigfoot they should call him -- next to him, his partner in sex. So when Arn tried his previous trick, Brian knocked his hand away from Kroos' cock, replacing it with his own.
"I like to driving my own car" Brian snapped at Arn "unless you wanna ride next."
"Careful whatcha ask for kid" Arn looked at him, then at Bernan.
Brian used all those football muscles to ease Kroos backwards onto his cock a few times, making every inch count. After a few fakes he felt his cock hit rock-bottom, his dick completely encased in someone's hole finally, then used his hips to rock Kroos forward, on and off that Ed guy's amazing long red glowstick. Brian was almost glad those other dudes -- especially two new ones they were dragging on stage -- could not see him, because he was having a hard time keeping his eyes away from what was going in Kroos' other end. He had never seen a cock like the one now going in and out of Kroos' throat. The thought almost formed of his head his mouth on -- no, that caused his cock to twitch a warning he was skating closer to the edge. He kept his cock as stationary as possible, letting Kroos and his hand on Kroos' rubber-hard cock do all the work. He was hoping to stay in this fuck-mode, hoping to wallow here in the deep end of the fuck pool, hoping to stay the studliest center of attention until they ran out of film for good. Or until the whole sick group threw in the towel and packed it in. But the way Kroos' ass was starting to clench tight around his cock, almost massaging it with those muscles in his butt, he knew this little party was going to end before he had a chance to explore his new mastery of these hip moves. And damn, what WAS that shit they lubed him with? It reminded him of that damn ointment they used on his muscles after games, that hot stinging stuff that made the pulled muscles go numb. But this shit was just the fucking opposite! It kept making his cock more and more sensitive with each orgasm, so he had to keep his cock as still as possible, hoping the tingling would taper off sometime before he passed out.
"You gonna fuck him or just stand there!" Arn glared at Brian, seeing the kid almost holding his breath he was getting so close.
"Fuck fuck fuck" Brian tried to keep his eyes shut, trying to not look at that phenomenal cock at the other end of the phenomenal Kroos fuck-o-matic. But when he felt someone's hand slap him -- slap him hard! -- on his bare ass, Brian's eyes flew open as he lunged forward violently. And that pushed him over the edge, his cock erupting again and again deep into that hot tingling hole.
Brian almost pushed Kroos forward so hard that Ed fell backward off the scaffolding. But whatever he did, Brian came back to earth watching those amazing striated muscles of Ed's abdomen and thighs start to quiver and spasm, his hips thrusting his crotch forward in shorter faster jerks. Brian wanted to stand there as the last of his orgasm subsided, but Arn pulled him out of Kroos as he pulled his head back everyone seeing Ed lose his battle. Several spasms of cum were pumping out of the bright cherry-red cock head, stringing down the length of his tube, down to the red hairs coloring his balls. Brian burped a last gob onto the floor, unable to tear his eyes from the unbelievable sight.
Brian would have stood there, his swollen red cock dripping on the floor between Kroos' feet, staring at that redhead finish delivering his load onto Kroos' face and beard but Bernan slapped him on the butt and put himself betwen Brian and the camera as he directed him towards the showers.
"Cryinoutloud Bennings you idiot!" he muttered for his ears alone "you got yer dick immortalized on tape y'happy now?"
"You bet coach!" Brian gave his cock a final shake, the last of his cum squeezed onto his fingers "the world knows what a stud I am!" finally, he almost said.
"Yeah like yer parents and the whole fuckin town..." he pushed him towards the shower area "y'happy?"
"Shit coach it ain't like that" turning the handle and stepping under the spray "is it?" seeing the coach heading back through the doorway, with a scowl and a wink. Brian stood under the shower, the water bringing him back to earth. Suddenly he was worried, the impact of what he had just done sinking in. Shit, he just fucked Kroos in the ass for the whole world to see! And who WAS seeing all this after all? Where were this little show going? Okay, he knew this would not end up in like the school assembly or shit! But seriously, where did these recordings land? Even a dumb jock like himself could put two and two together, knowing it would be some private collectors or... shit! What if it was one of those pay sites that he "heard" about? Probably the guy equivalent of "girls gone wild" like "naked jocks gone wild!" or some shit like that. He would have to con one of the crappers, maybe that Billy kid, into finding out where to look. Yeah, that Billy punk knows all about this shit!
"Hey coach" Moose yelled, pointing at Mister Doughboy trying to hide his dick behind that disposable camera "looks like our buddy is ready for his turn!"
The guy was trying to cover his goods with little success, the small camera no longer shoved in everyone's face. He tried wiggling his full round girth behind Moose and Doug, his hairy belly almost rubbing the back of Doug's head in the process. Moose used the occasion to goose the guy, knowing he could not retaliate.
"No really I just..." the guy was sputtering and twisting, trying to shield himself and his nakedness.
"You just like taking pictures right?" Moose yanked the camera from his sweaty grip. He looked at it, dumbstruck it was fucking real! He looked at the guy in a whole new light. Who the fuck was he? His gaze ran down his hairy tummy to his bushy pubes, seeing his fat circumcized cock up close. Beer-can thick and soft as hell.
"Go on dude!" Moose pushed him again "I'll even hold it for ya" making a grab for the stubby meat half-hidden behind Doug's neck, getting a laugh from both the stage and the chair brigade.
"Kid yer gonna regret that.." and would have backed into the row of lockers had Doug not grabbed him as well. Between the two of them they saved the scenery from toppling.
Kroos had turned to look at this, trying to straighten up, his sore back starting to ache from being bent over so long. But he knew something was going to be replacing Brian's cock in him soon. Not soon enough he admitted, trying to think of a way to hurry the next contestant.
"Not so fast" Arn grabbed Kroos by the shoulders "our workers here still wanna blow off some steam" all but pushing Kroos' face back to the opening. Kroos knew his struggling was only for show at this point so when Rocko's crotch re-appeared in the opening, Kroos lifted his hands to help him free his cock, still pumped and hard from the pill. His shaved crotch was pushing against Kroos' nose in no time.
"Don't touch me!" Doughboy stepped away from Doug and Moose "I'm naked!" meaning: hands off!
"Here!" Doug pulled down the underwear he was wearing and tossed it at him "wear mine!" hoping the guy noticed it was his own baggy stretched briefs. It was only fair since the guy had been wearing, and ripping! Doug's before "from one Doughboy to another!" ignoring Moose cracking up next to him.
"You nuts kid?" but Moose's hand was on the guy's butt again, almost steering him towards Kroos "I don't mess with guys--"
"Naw y'just take pictures of them" Moose elbowed Doug "right Doughboy... junior?" to Doug.
"Yeah" Doug saw the opportunity open golden before him "all us Doughboys get off jackin our meat to porn, ain't that right?"
"Speak for yourself kid" he stood there holding his briefs in front of his crotch, again glad to have something to hide behind.
"Use Doughboys useta settle for jerkin to Naked Jocks Websites but now we got the real thing right here, don't we?"
"Don't know what yer talkin about..." but his reddening complexion told Doug he hit paydirt.
"You don't gotta hide it" Moose nodded at Doughboy's white cotton figleaf "we all know what y'were gonna do with those pics!"
"What?!?!" he dropped his briefs, Doug thought the guy was going to have a stroke right there.
"We all know what they're for, boss" and Doug made a jacking motion in his crotch. Except it wasn't air he was jacking. But his hand froze in mid-stroke when he saw what Moose was doing.
Moose was close enough to reach down and pick up the guy's briefs. He was going to hand them to Mister Doughboy but someone Moose in his calculated clumsiness overshot and his hand connected with the guy's hairy nads. He would have done a backflip but was already backed into the corner.
"Get yer fuckin hands off--"
"Sorry I forgot yer naked" Moose pressed the briefs against Doughboy's crotch "here!" and kept pressing and rubbing "now ya ain't, right?" and their hands struggled for control of his underwear, Moose trying to rub the material downwards, Doughboy pulling upwards.
"Doughboy can't make up his mind!" Doug announced to the group, almost interrupting Kroos' bobbing on Rocko's dick "coach, this guy naked or not?"
"Leave him alone" from the guy with the even redder nipples.
"Prove y'ain't some closet jackoff" Doug snapped back "like me" he whispered to Moose "and let the coach there take care of that" grabbing him under material, feeling the beginning of a chubby "yer already boning" he announced again.
"I don't--"
"Here's yer chance!"
"Forget it!" from Mister Red Nipples, drawing the wrong kind of look from Moose.
"Here! I'll show ya!" Doug grabbed Doughboy's big arm, surprised there was that much muscle beneath all that flesh. If Moose hadn't joined in they never would have pryed him away from the wall of lockers. They had him far enough away from the benches that the others could see the marks left on Doughboy's ass from the metal when Mister Red Nipples joined the struggle. Only his grab was for Moose, not Doughboy's other arms. It looked like he grabbed for Moose, but instead ended up with a handful of Moose's full uncut cock somehow.
The four were about to take their wrestling match to the floor when someone appeared from the shower room,
"Now WHAT!?!?!" and there stood a naked wet Mark, almost braking long enough to slow the two guys he was steering through the doorway. But appearing there like a sight to bring an erection to a dead man were Chuck and his new best friend Juan, both soaking wet in each other's boxers, everything showing, and showing big.