The Taming of the Jock

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• My experiences - images, events, memories, words – flavor my writing. However, this story is fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

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THE TAMING OF THE JOCK

By Colton Aalto

CHAPTER ONE

I was whiling away time in study hall, pretending to be looking for inspiration for a short fiction piece I had to write for English class. I hadn't gotten into it, though, so I was mostly goofing off and killing time until baseball practice. But while looking for fiction on the web, I stumbled across an amazingly hot story on Nifty.org.

The Nifty story, about a high school kid on spring break in Las Vegas, was incredibly wild. Each chapter had an intriguing setup and great characters. And insanely hot sex. I sprouted a major boner while reading the story and was glad I'd chosen a seat at the back of the room near the windows. That meant nobody could see my cock pressed against my shorts like an unruly sausage. Or the occasional forays under the desk my hand made to squeeze my hard-on.

Nifty wasn't a porn video site, but rather had erotic stories. I loved it. Why my high school's internet system didn't block the website was a mystery, but every student, and seemingly none of the teachers or administers, knew the system was lame. It blocked news sites because a story about gay dating once appeared on the site, but let through all sorts of porn sites merely because they hadn't been around forever. Leave it to high school kids to know about the latest porn sites long before the nanny patrol caught up. I knew some seniors who had a secret list of Russian porn sites that could be accessed at will merely because the outdated parental control system didn't translate the Russian word for `porn.'

This particular study hall was commonly called jock hall because it was populated disproportionately by high school athletes. Like me. We often had to leave school early to travel to games, which meant we missed a lot of late-day classes. The school brass conveniently made study hall the jocks' last class of the day so we missed fewer real classes. The school administrators would have canceled jock hall completely to help the athletic teams if they could have fudged the attendance data in their reports to the state. The administrators' main priority was winning games and the related bragging rights. Educating high school students, not so much.

I frequently missed jock hall because I played football in the fall, basketball in the winter and baseball in the spring. I was only a so-so basketball player, and the team sucked anyway. But football and baseball were my sports. We were pretty good in football, but really good in baseball, having won our conference championship. Things had been clicking for our baseball team all spring.

Jock hall ended before I finished the Nifty story, and I slowly gathered my shit before heading to baseball practice. I intentionally let most of the students leave jock hall before I departed in hopes that my cock would soften enough to be respectable. But I still had trouble getting my stiffy to behave as I worked my way to the locker room to change for practice.

Not that my 17-year-old cock didn't misbehave on a regular basis, but this particular problem was at least partially my fault. I wasn't giving my dick enough attention. I hadn't even touched my cock for three days. That might have been a record, at least while I was in high school. I usually whacked off in the morning and once or twice at night. Blowing a juicy load of thick, white ball cream was the best part of getting up and the highlight of going to bed. But due to a bad combination of final exams, term papers, and the state baseball playoffs, my schedule had been crazy. Up early and up late, with no time to fist my cock.

I halfway liked feeling really, really horny, but when I stumbled across the Nifty story, I was propelled into stages of horniness that were off the charts. I couldn't wait to get someplace where I could pull the story up and read another chapter while I fisted my cock. But that would have to wait until after baseball practice.

My dick behaved no better during practice. I kept recalling the Nifty story, causing my pesky cock to try its best to escape my jockstrap. Not only that, my rod was leaking pre-cum like crazy. I couldn't tell if my jock strap was wet because of sweat or because of pre-cum. Or both. Once my dick starts pre-cumming, it's like a faucet that won't turn off. Reading the Nifty story in jock hall had gotten my dick primed, and I knew it wouldn't stop oozing until I blew a load.

My approach to baseball practice was sufficiently distracted that our coach rewarded me with extra laps after everyone else hit the showers. The worst part of the punishment was that it postponed the time when I could relieve the intense pressure on my balls. I desperately had to get a load off. I swear my balls were beginning to ache, but regardless of how hard I tried, I couldn't get my mind off my dick. Or maybe I couldn't get my mind off my dick because my balls were aching. Whatever. Even when I was temporarily successful in accomplishing the task of thinking about something other than sex, inevitably my mind would wander back to the Nifty story and once again I would be hungering to bust a nut.

As I ran laps after practice, I was desperate enough to get off that I thought about forgoing the story and sneaking under the bleachers to quickly jack off. But unfortunately, that wasn't an option because I had company. Our left fielder, Tony, had been goofing off during practice until the coach slammed him, too. So Tony and I were consigned to gasping and sweating through a seemingly endless series of 40 yard dashes.

I had never been best friends with Tony. We'd only known each other since the beginning of high school. Two big middle schools fed my high school; I came from Northside and Tony was from East. Nobody knew why East wasn't called Eastside or Northside called North, but that's the way it had been for years. In my high school, kids pretty much stayed friends with the kids they knew from middle school, and it was no different for Tony and me.

More importantly, Tony and I were rivals in a lot of things. We were co-captains of the football team and we had both made all-state as seniors. I was a receiver, but I also played defense, which is where Tony and I really competed. While Tony was a punishing linebacker, I had been a shut-down cornerback, despite playing both ways. I constantly razzed Tony about saving his ass on the rare occasions when he got beat in coverage or couldn't finish a tackle. Of course, I also had receiving stats -- half a dozen touchdown catches – that Tony couldn't match.

Our roles were reversed in baseball. Tony was our left fielder and I was the shortstop, and he took an inordinate amount of pride in charging in to make catches that I could have made, or refusing to throw to me on cut offs and instead firing the ball all the way to home or to third base. Or, worse yet, fielding a ball that had gotten past me. For the most part, we were both good team players, but we each kept a close eye on whose batting average was higher. I had him by a few points because he swung for the fences too often. While I couldn't match him in home runs, I had a ton more stolen bases.

Tony had been homecoming king last fall, but I was only a week removed from having been crowned prom king at the high school's Junior-Senior Prom. An added plus in my rivalry with Tony was that the prom queen was Tony's girlfriend Melissa, and as a matter of tradition the king and queen took the first dance together. I gave Tony a sneering smile as I danced with Melissa, holding her extra tight, and I made the most of a post-coronation kiss in front of the entire crowd of promsters. I slipped her the tongue, not because I had any burning desire to suck face with her, but because she was Tony's girlfriend and I hoped he would notice. To my surprise Melissa was into making out with me, and it dawned on me that she was interested. She was hot, a cheerleader with a great body, and it was a nice ego boost.

But if I made a play for Melissa, it would only be to take her away from Tony. I doubted I would make the effort. I had slowly realized over the last year that girls didn't interest me. I liked cocks and asses, not tits and pussies. I liked boys.

I was resolute that there was no way anybody at my school, let alone Tony, was ever going to discover that fact. Even after I began to accept that I was gay, I dated plenty of girls, even fooled around with some of them, but I did it to bolster my reputation rather than because I had any real interest in fucking a girl. I dated girls for a month or two and then moved on when things began to get heavy. That gave me the reputation of being a big Romeo, which was good, I suppose.

As Tony and I trudged toward the locker room after finishing our laps, I gave into the temptation to scope out his body. Scared of doing anything that would reveal that I was gay, I was careful not to stare at dudes too long. And since we didn't hang out together, I seldom was close enough to Tony to eyeball his body. But with my cock and balls controlling my brain, I suddenly couldn't keep my eyes off the stud.

The dude had incredible shoulder muscles. Even better was the way his biceps popped out when he bent his tanned arm. That was one thing Tony clearly had over me. Awesome guns. Tony knew it, too. He took every opportunity to wear tank tops or sleeveless shirts, flexing and showing off his muscular arms, and baseball practice was no different. He'd cut the sleeves of his practice jersey off so that he could flaunt his stuff, and he sure as hell was keeping my attention.

I was jealous about Tony's smoldering dark looks. Guys are supposed to be tall, dark and handsome. And fuck, that's exactly what Tony was. His dark eyes, long, straight jawline and high cheekbones were straight from a Hollywood casting call. His body meant he could pass as a college student, but his mop of curly black hair made him look like the high school kid that he was. He was cute and handsome at the same time. And fucking hot.

I lacked one element of tall, dark and handsome. The dark one. I wasn't short and I wasn't hard on the eyes – hell, I was hot – but my surfer blond hair, which bleached quickly and thoroughly after a few hours in the sun, left me a long way from being dark. My skin tanned reasonably quickly, but even my darkest tan didn't match Tony. He was Italian or Latin or something like that. He might even have had a black ancestor somewhere along the way. Whatever. He had the goods in the looks department to go with his muscles.

I had a few things to brag about body-wise, too. Hands down I had the best abs on the baseball team or the football team. With little or no body fat to cover my muscles, my six pack – hell, it was a fucking eight pack – was like a tight layer of smooth skin stretched over double row of river rocks. I made sure I advertised the goods, too, going shirtless or wearing cropped T-shirts whenever I could. My arms weren't bad by any means, but try as I might I couldn't put on muscles to match Tony's.

Out of habit I had stripped off my baseball shirt while we were running sprints. I stuffed it in the back of my pants as Tony and I left the practice field, so my chest was bare and covered by a faint gleam of sweat. As we walked into the locker room, Tony's biceps accidently brushed against my chest, and the skin-to-skin contact was like a jolt of electricity.

Fuck. I had never thought about Tony sexually, but in my frenzied state of horniness, it crossed my mind for the first time. I'd love to run my hands over the smooth caramel skin on his chest and arms. Hell, I'd love to feel up all of his incredibly hot body. But that was out of the question. The dude was straight, and if that wasn't enough of an impediment, doing anything with him would mean I would have to confront his arrogant personality. It wasn't going to happen.

I certainly wasn't going to suck Tony's cock or let him dick my butt. I hadn't done it with a guy. I was skeptical taking a dude's dick in my mouth and anal sex seemed too weird for me to ever let a guy put it in my ass. But I was more than ready to stick my cock in another guy's mouth. And although I wasn't sure about anal sex, if the opportunity presented itself – like a hot guy begging me to fuck him – I'd do a guy in the butt, too. If Tony begged me to stick my hard rod up his ass, I would certainly oblige him. But that was never going to happen.

What would really be awesome would be getting a blow job from a dude. Damn, did I want a dude to go down on me and suck me off. But no fucking way Tony would touch my dick. Not the way he routinely dished `cocksuckers' in the locker room and in the halls of our high school. Tony was fucking straight.

The locker room was deserted when we arrived, but it was still hot and steamy from the rest of the team having showered. Tony said something about having to hurry, but I no intention of rushing because I didn't want to end up in the shower with Tony. Normally that wouldn't have bothered me in the least. On the contrary, I looked forward to locker room showers because I got to show off my body. I knew guys looked at my ripped chest and chiseled legs with envy, and I figured the closeted gay boys – I had no idea who they were, but there had to be some – gazed at me with lust. Maybe even some straight boys did.

But tonight, in my crazy-horny state, I couldn't risk popping a boner in the shower with Tony. He would never let me live it down, and the last thing I wanted to endure was Tony ridiculing me in front of the entire baseball team during the final few days of the season. So, rather than hustling into the showers with Tony, I took my time, scrolling through messages on my cell before slowly stripping off the remains of my baseball uniform.

I was in a fog, standing in front of my locker in only my jock strap and bending over to put my cleats on the bottom, when I heard a loud snap and my ass simultaneously responded like it was on fire. I jumped and turned around to see Tony, dripping wet and bent over laughing, a coiled towel in his hands. "Nice ass, sucker!" he guffawed, "very nice buns ya got there, pretty boy! You can thank me for giving `em a little color so they ain't so pasty white, Tyler."

Furious, I stared at Tony in disbelief. He was laughing so hard that I thought he would cry. How stupid could I have been? The last thing dudes on our baseball team did was to expose their bare asses for more than a nanosecond. A guy making that mistake was guaranteed to have his glutes snapped with a wet towel. I was the worst transgressor on the team when it came to burning butts with a coiled towel, but Tony was a close second.

My ass stung enough that I knew Tony had nailed me good. I'd probably have a welt. There was nothing I could do except growl, "You'll pay for that, fucker!" The likelihood that I would have an opportunity to get back at Tony was remote, but I would definitely try. Tony clearly wasn't worried; he was laughing so hard he couldn't respond.

At least getting my ass snapped had temporarily deflated my cock. Ripping off my jock, I stalked to the shower. The hot water cascading over my body felt great, even if my ass was still stinging.

As I showered, I couldn't help thinking about how hot Tony looked as he laughed at me after snapping my butt with his towel. Water was still dripping from his curly black hair and running over his big muscles, and his fat cock hung between his big thighs looking, well, extra fat.

I could swear Tony's dick was plumped up a bit. Maybe it merely looked big because he kept his black pubes trimmed to almost nothing. Tony claimed his girlfriends liked cut pubes so they wouldn't get hair in their mouths, or worse yet their teeth, when they sucked his cock. An equally probable explanation was that Tony thought his cock looked bigger with his pubes trimmed. With Tony, you never knew what was true and what was made up. But no kid would dare challenge him on whether he was getting his dick sucked. No question that Tony was hot enough to get girls to go down on him, and high school dudes always assume other guys – particularly jocks - are getting a lot more sex more than they are. Fuck.

My mind drifted from Tony's hot body to the Nifty story. The last chapter I read in jock hall had an awesome description of this hot high school dude going down on two guys in a locker room shower. In my mind, the dude in the story was going down on me. Fuck, how awesome would it be to feel a guy's warm, wet lips on my cock and watch it disappear into his mouth? And damn, to shoot a load of jizz into a guy's mouth and have him swallow it?

I heard Tony slam his locker door and the sound of footsteps as he exited the locker room. Relieved at being alone, I cupped my big balls – another thing I was insanely proud of – and slipped my other hand into the soft tissue between my ball sac and my asshole. Pressuring myself, my cock rose consistently and relentlessly, quickly rising to full mast.

Fuck, why not whack off a load? I had never thought about beating off in the locker room showers, but with the place deserted and my dick going crazy, I saw no reason not to jerk off and bust a nut. I liked jacking myself with both hands – one hand around the base of my cock and the other fisting the top. I added a generous dollop of soap to the mix and my hands closed on my dick, beginning to slide up and down on my stiff rod.

I closed my eyes, enjoying the hot water running over my head but keeping far enough out of the spray to avoid washing away the soap covering my dick. My hands moved faster and faster, sliding up and down on my boner.

I was too close to cumming and wanted the moment to last. I wanted to do something else, too. I gripped the base of my cock with one hand and squeezed while my other hand slipped around my balls to my asshole. I slid my big finger inside my ass, gasping as my hole did whatever it did when I was beating off and stuck a finger in it. It felt incredible.

My hole had only been part of my beat off routine for a couple of months. I had been inspired by a jack off porn clip I found online. In the clip, this ripped Danish dancer with wavy blond hair talked about how he whacked off, including how he played with his asshole. I hadn't gotten to the point of fucking myself with a dildo the way the Danish dude did on camera, but the way he raved about how good his hole felt when he fingered it made me try it myself. I was hooked the first time my big finger slid inside my hole and located my prostate. Damn, after that, I wanted a finger inside my hole every time I jerked off.

The pressure of my finger in my hole put me on a path of no return. My nut began building as my fist flew up and down over my shaft. I jabbed at my prostrate with my finger, sending waves of pleasure straight to my dick. I tried a second finger and then a third, forcing my anus farther open and tickling my prostate. I moaned out loud and was completely lost in the moment. My cock felt like a warm rock in my hand. Damn it felt good!

I was on the verge of climaxing, feeling my nut on the edge of exploding. But my euphoric mood was suddenly shattered when I heard a locker door slam. My eyes flew open and moments later I saw Tony's curly black hair and big smile as he peered into the shower, catching me jacking off. "I see you're still thinking `bout me nailing your ass, loser!" he gloated with a big laugh. "Don't let me stop you, pussy boy. It ain't as fat as my prick, but hey, Tyler, enjoy what ya got. Sorry if you got so excited watching me that you have to knock out a load!"

I could only stand and stare in shock as Tony hooted and headed for the locker room exit, banging his fist against lockers and laughing the entire way. Fuck. He must have forgotten something and come back to his locker to retrieve it.

Hell. I was such a fucking idiot.

My cock wasn't happy about the surge of panic that had ripped through me when I saw Tony. I angrily resigned myself to foregoing the climax I had been so close to achieving.

But Tony's image was still fresh in my mind. The dude had been wearing a muscle shirt with deep armholes that not only showed his guns but also, from the side, his chest. His getup was actually hotter than if he had been shirtless. Letting myself get this horny was not a good idea.

As I stood in the shower, the recalled the damn Nifty story. The kid in the story lost his cherry in a locker room, and, thinking about that, my cock recovered quickly, bounding back into a full hard-on. I couldn't resist closing my fist around my boner and ramming my fingers back into my hole.

Fuck, I was going to get my nut out regardless of the disaster with Tony. I doubled down, stroking and fingering myself into a rapid, shattering climax. Rope after rope of cum rocketed from my dick and arched into the air. The thick white strings splattered on the shower floor, only to be gradually washed down the drain. As annoyed as I was about getting caught by Tony, my climax made it worth it. Only one thing would have made it better. A wet mouth on my cock. Not a girl's mouth. I had had that, and while it was okay, more than anything I wanted a guy's mouth on my tool.

With my brain no longer obsessed with busting a nut, I went into damage control about the mess with Tony before I even turned off the shower. Tony would certainly brag to his friends about catching me jerking off. He probably would add in the part about burning my butt with his towel and claim that had turned me on. I could only hope that he didn't notice I was fingering my hole while I whacked off. He was far enough away that maybe, given the dim lights and steam in the shower, he hadn't seen me fucking myself.

I could deny the whole incident – his word against mine – but that wasn't going to work. I had to come up with a better idea than that.

But by the time I dressed, I had a reasonable strategy worked out. I wouldn't deny what Tony had seen in the shower. The best defense is a good offense. I would treat it as matter-of-fact. Of course guys beat off all the time. I'd tell the dudes that I whacked off four or five times a day just to keep my cock under control and my big, smooth balls from overflowing. That actually wasn't far from the truth. When confronted with Tony's story, I'd say, "Guilty as charged. What can I say? My big dick needs relief four or five times a day. A guy has to do what he has to do."

But then I would shake my head and, with a conspiratorial whisper, add, "I can't believe Tony was perving out on me. Damn, dudes, you better be careful in the showers, `cuz Tony will probably be scoping you out, too." My plan was brilliant. Tony would be caught by surprise, and I would turn the tables on him. It would be a rout.

One detail gave me pause. Tony had to pass by the showers to get to his locker, which meant that he was on his second trip past the showers when I saw him after he slammed his locker door. So he could have spotted me working my meat on the way to his locker. With my eyes closed and focused single-mindedly on my cock, I hadn't noticed him. I was sure Tony was holding his cell phone as he laughed at me. Not surprising; what high school kid wouldn't have been checking his cell phone as he walked from the locker room to his car? Hopefully the cell was what Tony had returned to his locker to collect. I prayed that the fucker hadn't had it with on the way to his locker and snapped a picture of me with one hand stroking my boner and half of the other hand stuck up my butt. Having that spread around the entire high school would not be cool.

Satisfied that I had as good a strategy to handle Tony as I was going to come up with, I headed home. But I kept thinking about the Nifty story, and before I even pulled into the driveway of my house, my dick was hard as a rock, despite the fact I had just blown a load in the shower.

Getting hard that quickly wasn't all that unusual for me. I could get hard again within minutes of a climax, and usually the second and third times were better than the first. I turned the car engine off, but rather than heading into the house, I pulled my stiffy over the waistband of my shorts and raised my T-shirt over my head. I let out a low moan as I wrapped one hand around my dick and began to stroke, using my other hand to feel up my hard abs and rub my tits.

Getting my finger in my hole while sitting in the car seat posed a challenge, but I managed it and fisted my cock with one hand while jabbing at my prostate with the other. My mind kept drifting back to the kid in the Nifty story giving blow jobs. That's what I needed. Desperately. I needed a cocksucker to service me. As I whacked off and fingered myself, I kept thinking of how great it would be to see a guy's head in my crotch and feel his wet mouth on my cock. Playing out my fantasy, I moaned, "Suck that cock. Deep throat me, dude. I'm gonna cum in your mouth."

Fortunately, it was dark enough that nobody could see me beating my meat. My second and third climaxes are actually quicker than the first. Go figure. So I came really fast as I sat in the driveway. The weird thing was that my cum spurted a good six or eight inches into the air at least three or four times. Usually my second climax wasn't that explosive. Something to be said for letting cum build up.

I clearly hadn't drained my balls in the locker room, because my load covered my hard abs with thick spunk. Damn. I couldn't soak it up with my T-shirt and walk into the house with a wet spot on my shirt and smelling like a cum factory. I scooped up as much of the stuff as I could and let it drip from my fingers onto the ground outside my car door, but that left me with cum-covered fingers and a wet stomach. Temporarily leaving my shorts on the floor of my car, I wiped my fingers on a nearby bush and used the leaves to get most of the cum off my stomach. Damn. I hope nobody saw me, clad in nothing but flip-flops and with my T-shirt pulled behind my head.

As I headed into the house, my mind was back on the shower disaster. Was there some way to use it to my benefit? I could threaten Tony that I would broadcast to the entire team that he was perving out on me in the shower unless he sucked me off. That would never fly. Hell, he'd probably retaliate by telling the team I was a faggot who got hard every time his ass got spanked. Or I had gotten hard looking at Tony in the locker room. Plus, I couldn't afford to give Tony any ideas, like telling me to suck his cock or else he'd tell everyone about me wanking in the shower.

Trying to get Tony to suck my cock wasn't going to work unless I got something considerably better on him. That's what I needed to do. Find something about Tony that so incredibly embarrassing that he'd go down on me to keep me from revealing it. Talk about a long shot.

But, fuck, it didn't have to be Tony. Any target would do as long as I got the boy's wet mouth on my cock. But damn, would it ever be sweet if it was Tony.

TO BE CONTINUED...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The spring break story described in chapter one is a shameless pitch for one of my other Nifty stories (Spring Break Happens in Vegas). Check it out, but warning – it's in the incest category, so be forewarned.

Readers' reactions are part of what keeps me writing! So let me hear whether you if you liked (or hated) the story. Coltonaalto@gmail.com

© Copyright Colton Aalto 2016