Disclaimer: The following story is for the most part a work of fiction. A few instances are drawn from actual events involving consenting persons 18 years or older, but no original names of people, or places have been used. The following material deals with sexual situations involving homosexual acts. Other situations include bondage, S&M, and in order to make a more compelling story line the situation takes place in a highschool setting. It is not recommended that this material be viewed by persons under the age of 18 or anyone else who does not wish to read a story involving acts of homosexual sex.
Used by Jocks -- Part 10 by Eros
Chapter 17 --Matinee--
Scott snickered to himself as he rounded the corner and headed down 5th street. During school today he had completely and utterly embarrassed a complete stranger, some cocksucker he'd never met before. Now he was off to some guy, Joe's, house to see some mysterious video that all the upperclassmen were talking about.
Joe had just pulled up with two other guys as Scott walked up to the house.
"C'mon in man" said Joe, "We don't have much time before we have to be back at school for warm-ups"
The other two randoms Joe had brought with him were no doubt members of the baskeball team as well. There was a game tonight, a big one. The toughest team in their league with a reputation for playing dirty, not unlike Joe.
They stepped through the living room dodging several half packed boxes as they made their way to the basement. Joe popped in the tape. Suddenly the screen came to life. On it was a young well tanned surfer boy. His face was covered with a dirty pair of underwear, you couldn't make out who it was. He was nervously whacking off, seemingly oblivious to the camera on him.
"How'd you get this?" asked Scott off hand.
"Security camera." Joe lied, "Someone had been stealing things out of lockers, so the coaches started recording the locker rooms before and after school."
"So he's probably sniffin' someone else's underwear..." one of the others suggested. They all groaned in disgust of the young pud puller on the screen. To steal shoes or watches was almost cool, but to come into the gym before school just to sniff someone else's underwear was truly criminal.
They continued watching, bursting out with "Aww nasty," and "That's fuckin' sick, man" periodically.
Finally the wanker on the screen was convulsing with the inevitable orgasm to come. He suddenly announced his condition to no one at all, "Ok....I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum!" This was hilarious, he was talking to himself.
Though Scott seemed satisfied with Joe's lies. Had he paid closer attention he would notice the sound going in and out on the recording. This was of course Joe editing out his own voice as he commanded the freshman.
Suddenly the pathetic pervert pulled the soiled undies from his face and wrapped them around his erection. He pumped his load into the used garment and paused for recovery. Scott was in shock. With the underwear sniffer's face now revealed to everyone watching, Scott couldn't believe his eyes. It was Paul. Paul was wacking off in the locker room into some jock's underwear. All Scott could do was stare at the ground before him processing the revelation, then moans of disgust from the raucous jocks around him alerted him back towards the TV screen. Paul now held the dirty undies in his hand, a pool of his own spunk was visible directly in the middle. Then, to the alpha-surfer's horror, Paul dipped his face into the spent tighty whities and licked his own freshly deposited spunk. Scott was the only one in the room not laughing his head off.
"He's a fag?" Scott whispered under his breath.
Chapter 18 --The Game--
An hour later the athlete's section of the locker room was buzzing with commotion. It was one of the most important games of the season, and bound to be the most difficult. No one had yet bothered to begin changing. The usual locker room conversation was abandoned today, however, a much more interesting event was on the minds of everyone: the freshman who streaked the halls today butt naked. It was rumored he had cut his pubes off, and that his face was smeared in cum, not to mention the condom dangling out of his ass.
The coach came in with Marco, and gave his normal pep-talk. He also warned them, as if they needed to be reminded, that this team wasn't going to be a peace of cake. Then he disappeared while the jocks began undressing. Marco seemed distressed during the speech. He started to leave with the coach when suddenly a firm hand prevented his escape. It was Nick.
"Wait up a sec', son." His tone was condescending and deep.
A pang of terror bolted through Marco's core. He was instantly reminded of being mercilessly fucked up the ass, just yesterday. A phantom moan echoed in his ear, it was Nick's moan, the sound he made when he, at last, came inside of Marco. He never wanted to hear that sound again. Suddenly, crossing the locker room wearing only his boxers and a frown, Joe approached the two.
"Aren't you forgettin' somethin'?" Joe stared at Marco.
At just that moment several others in the locker room were becoming aware of the same thing. Marco's role as team manager certainly didn't require him to watch the player's dress for the game, but it did, as a matter of fact, require him to redistribute a certain key element in every player's uniform. The jock strap. Marco had no fucking clue where they were. He'd come in early, after school, to get them washed remembering that he never even started the cycle, but to his surprise they were all missing. Little did he know, they were exactly three floors above him in a haphazard pile on the roof.
One of the team members shouted at him. "Dude, where's my jock?" Other's soon joined in. They were all missing them. Suddenly the room was silent. All eyes were on Marco. Every single player in that room had the physical prowess to beat the latin jock-washer to a pulp. All they had ever needed was a reason. Half of the time some of them didn't even need reasons. But they all did need their jock straps. All except one...Simi. For some reason he had his. Of course Marco knew why. He'd been wearing it 24 hours ago in the woods, when Simi demanded that he take it off. It hadn't left Simi's bag until just now.
"I dunno..." began Marco, meekly "someone stole 'em"
The room was promptly filled with disappointed rage. They all began shouting at once. Then the noise calmed as Nick brought their attention to Simi.
"Simi got his!" he yelled. Everyone turned their heads in Simi's direction. There he stood. The newly appointed leader of the pack, having only yesterday usurped Nick from his dominance over the team. They glared at him. His brown body glistened with the unavoidable sweat that is a locker room's gift to all who enter. His lean muscles heaved in and out of his chest. His dark brown nipples were suddenly erect. His stone carved abdomen tensed. And covering his big thick chocolate cock was the lone jockstrap in the whole locker room.
"I had mine in my bag..." He explained.
"Motha Fucker" shouted Nick, "You mean we gotta go out there an' play the meanest, dirtiest fuckin' team in the whole league without a cup!?"
Nick's words had the whole team in thought. They all paused contemplating their own testicles flopping around in those silky basketball shorts, defenseless against the accidental, and not so accidental knee jabs, and foot "slips" that accompanied any typical basketball game, not to mention this particular one.
It was time for warm ups. The team finished suiting up, and headed for the court. Simi, in front of the rest of the team, was headed out when suddenly Nick slammed him into the wall. The team froze. With a swift motion towards Simi's crotch and snap of his arm. Nick grabbed hold of Simi's cup, pulled it back and snapped it against his helpless nutsac.
"AAAAANNNNH!!!" He howled.
Simi doubled over in pain. The team, responding to a bellow from the coach down the hall, hustled around the skirmish. It was just Simi and Nick now.
With his left foot, Nick took advantage of Simi's bent over position and thrust him to the ground. The poor jock was still writhing in pain, and grasping his groin in agony. Without the slightest bit of concern or remorse. Nick placed his hand firmly on the back of Simi's head and grinded it into the slimy locker room floor. Then with his free hand he yanked down Simi's shorts. He started to peel down the jock strap, when Simi began to recover. He swiveled around in order to belt his assaulter in the face, only to miss. Nick took advantage again and wrenched the cup loose from Simi's strap. His balls tumbled out of the cup on one side. Without anything but instinct fueling his onslaught Nick then began racking Simi's balls with the only blunt object at hand...Simi's own cup.
"UUUUNNNNHH....AAAAAAHHH!!!.....AAAAAWWWWW!!!!"
Simi face was turning red. He couldn't reach his arms around to cover his crotch. His balls were a wide open target, and Nick wasn't stopping. Finally Simi gave in.
"Take the fuckin' strap fucker!" He screamed.
Nick peeled the strap off of the beaten former reigning bad ass of the team, and slipped it on. He had no qualms about wearing another guy's jock at this point. Needless to say Simi would be a little late to warm ups.
Chapter 19
The Tradition--
As Nick was peeling off Simi's dirty jock strap, across town Paul Greeves was crouched amidst a group of overgrown weeds and bushes not far from a stretch of rocks overlooking the ocean. He was watching a group of teenagers strip naked in front of the world. On the ground next to them were surfboards and wetsuits. This was of course the tradition invented by Scott that marked the beginning of a surfing session every time the guys got together.
They were beginning to suit up and head out. Scott lagged behind, pensive. Suddenly he heard a voice from behind.
"Hey Scott wait up!" yelled Paul from the brush.
Scott waved the other surfers on and jogged down to Paul's location. The two stared at each other for a moment in silence. Scott spoke first.
"So I figured out why you didn't want to come with me to Joe's"
Paul didn't respond at first, then he assured Scott, "He made me do it."
"He made you suck your own fuckin' jizz out of someone's underwear?"
Paul nodded. Scott didn't look entirely convinced.
"You gonna tell the guys?" Paul asked sheepishly.
Scott looked at his friend like he didn't understand him anymore. He ignored the question.
"So how'd it taste?" he blurted out, slowly forming a smile.
"It was nasty!" Paul blurted back, the quicker the better.
Scott scanned Paul's face, then glanced sharply to the floor and back up. "Maybe it was just the wrong flavor..."
Out of instinct Paul snickered at the remark.
However, Scott wasn't making a pun, or a goofy suggestion. It wasn't a joke, or a light hearted jab. Having just heard the words one might think so, but Scott's real intentions were locked in his bright blue hypnotic eyes. It took him a second, but Paul figured it out. The surfer god in front of him might as well have just said, "on yer knees bitch."
Paul gulped.
"Let's make a new surfing tradition Paul..." began Scott, "Every time we go out, you get here 20 minutes before surf's up, and put my dick in yer mouth."
Paul looked like a dejected puppy. He had lost Scott's respect. Scott saw him as a cum-licking pervert. And he might have just slinked off and dissappeared from the carefree world of surferdom forever, if not for those same blue hypnotic eyes. Deep inside his idol's glare there was hope, Paul could see it. Scott didn't care about labels. He'd fucked with that kid on the roof as payback for shaving Paul's pubes, not because he was gay.
Paul looked back at Scott for verification, "You want me to suck you?"
Scott's grin began to return. "C'mon it can't be that bad."
Paul could think of nothing worse.
Then, in the privacy of the bushes, in the wild at the edge of the beach, Paul Greeves sunk to his knees with a sandy thud. Scott unzipped his wetsuit, letting the torso of it flop behind him. Paul, not knowing who he was anymore, reached up and pulled the zipper down further. A thick cock plopped out, and dangled in front of Paul's face. Then, inch by inch Paul approached his best friend's crotch. Finally he opened up his mouth and gently wrapped his lips around Scott's thickening cockhead. He wetted it and let it pop out of his mouth. He glanced up to see that Scott's eye's were closed. He had enjoyed that tiny hint of pleasure. That, in turn, pleased Paul. He sucked the growing member again, this time longer. The skin was soft and a little salty. Not nearly as bad as he had feared. Then before he realized what was happening, Paul was freely running his mouth up and down Scott's shaft. It was a feat to keep it lubricated. The more spit he used, the easier it was to pump his face up and down. Scott's grin was complete now. He moaned slightly.
"mmmhhh..."
In a way, Paul was proud to be pleasing his best friend. He continued pumping his mouth up and down and up and down. Then suddenly a hand caressed the back of his head. It startled him. He thought someone had walked up behind and caught them, but it was Scott's hand. His cock had fully hardened now. It was almost comforting, the feeling of Scott's hand on the back of his head. But then ever gradually, Scott added a little more pressure. It wasn't an issue at first, it just required a little more speed. His lips began to ache.
"Unnnnh.....Unnnnhhhh" moaned Scott.
Then the pressure increased still. His cock had grown large, larger than Paul had anticipated, it was definitely gurthier than his own penis. The pressure continued. Scott's fingers found their way through Paul's hair. He now held a tuft of the cocksuckers wavy locks firmly in his grasp. Pumping and pumping Paul felt himself losing more and more control. Scott's arm was doing the work. Paul was being face fucked. A panic fell over him. It was all too fast. His mouth was plenty moist and his lips could hold out a little longer, but his breathing was erratic. He couldn't keep up. Scott continued pumping Paul's head faster and faster until finally Paul began to gag. Gurgles and obscene slurping noises followed. Scott gave a brief chuckle, and waited for the cocksucker to catch his breath. Then his rock hard dick popped right back in Paul's mouth.
"UUUUNNNHH...UUUNNNHHH!!!!....AAAAANNNHHH... FUCK, FUCK! AAAAAAHHHHH!"
Suddenly a rush of surfer cum flooded Paul's mouth. The taste was stronger than his own, as he remembered it. He began to gag slightly, this time because of the foul odor, and sharp taste. But Scott continued until he had shot every last wad of jizz through his pulsing piece of meat. Paul was trying his best to hold the rancid cream inside his mouth. The taste was overwhelming. He was going to spit it out, once Scott was done using him. He might now be Scott's personal cocksucker, but he had no intention of eating another boy's cum. That is, until Scott whispered softly:
"Swallow it Paulie...Eat my cum..."
Without a thought, Paul pulled off of Scotts diminishing dick, displayed the load in his mouth, and then let it ooze down his throat, with an awkward gulp. It was a slow swallow. The taste, of course, lingered all the same.
Scott, still grinning, looked down at his submissive cum-drinker, "That was fun" he said.
Paul licked his lips, and let his gaze fall to the sand beneath him. He would have a problem looking Scott in the eye from now on.
To be Continued...
Questions? Comments? Contact Eros: ofvenus@yahoo.com