Hot Jocks, page 16
Kelly and Bolt must have been inspired or something, ’cause they’d started ripping off each other’s togs, too, only in a more friendly manner. You might almost think they’d done this sort of thing before, in private. That didn’t keep ’em from tearing and ripping at each other’s singlets, like they were so hot they couldn’t help themselves. Whew, to be nineteen again!
What I’m dying to see is their dicks—and boy, do I get an eyeful. They’re both hard as the proverbial rock. Bolt’s got quite a heavy-looking handful for such a compact guy, but Kelly’s is even bigger, with an even sharper bend than Bonar’s. I bet the preacher’s daughter squealed when that thing de-virginized her!
I’m not the only one doing a laser beam on the guys’ meat. Tad and Bonar are finally taking a break, breathing hard. They’ve worn each other out for the time being, or maybe they’re just distracted by what’s going on at the other mat, because the two of them are panting like puppies and staring at Kelly and Bolt as hard as I am, only they’re not hiding. Shit, all four of these guys have nothing to hide—they’re all completely naked except for their shoes.
I guess Kelly and Ted can feel all those eyes on their naked dicks. They break apart and stare back at the other guys.
“What are you staring at, Bonehead?” says Kelly.
Bonar bristles; he hates that nickname. “You and your girlfriend,” he sneers.
“Oh, good one, Bonehead,” snaps little Bolt. “Like you haven’t had your rich-bitch pussy wrapped around Tad’s dick since day one this semester.”
“Mind your own fucking business, drama queen,” says Tad. Drama queen? Where does a kid learn to talk like that in Cockitoomee, Arkansas?
Bonar doesn’t seem too embarrassed at being labeled a pussy. “Yeah, I take Tad’s dick up my butt,” he says in his richkid, fuck-off tone of voice, like he’s bragging. “And I’m not the only one.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” says little Bolt.
Bonar shakes his head, like the situation is too pitiful for words. “What, has Kelly been feeding you that line about really being straight the whole time he’s fucking your ass? Just because he got a girl knocked up doesn’t mean lightning will ever strike twice. Ha! You thought your muscleheaded Irish boyfriend was strictly top? It’s to laugh. Tad’s been pumping his butt twice a week since long before I came on the scene.”
“That’s a lie!” says Bolt, his voice cracking.
“Tell him, Kelly,” says Bonar, the little troublemaker. “Let’s face it, Tad’s a complete and irresistible stud-machine. Looks like you’re the only one who’s been missing out on the ride, Bolt.”
“Kelly, is this true?” Bolt pouts.
Kelly looks sheepish, then stares at Bonar. You can almost see wisps of smoke coming out of his ears. He looks more like a devil than ever. “Bonar, you are the world’s most completely brainless, boneheaded—”
All this time the four of them have been drawing closer and closer. Once they’re close enough, it’s like magnets colliding—it’s a free-for-all. From where I’m standing, still peeking around the corner, I can’t tell whether it’s raw sex or sheer aggression. Probably both—these guys don’t seem to know one from the other. They’re playing pony, poking at each other’s butts with their hard dicks—and am I actually seeing some dick-to-mouth contact? Is this an orgy or a brawl? Am I hallucinating when I see Bonar licking his lips like he’s making his mouth a target for Kelly’s hard-on? No wonder they’re bored with wrestling by the rules, of which they’re not following a single one—they’re slapping ass, elbowing each other in the ribs, doing strangleholds, slapping at each other’s balls. And all the while they’re spewing out a bunch of foul-mouthed macho bombast at each other, especially Bonar. These kids have been watching way too much TV wrestling!
Discipline, that’s what they need.
And that’s what a coach is for: discipline.
But not yet…
After all, a reasonable man studies all sides of a problem before he goes barging in to correct it, and there are a lot of interesting angles to look at while Bonar, Bolt, Tad and Kelly all have a go at each other…
Holy shit—then I realize we only have the space for another half-hour. Jeez, what if the janitor comes in? I had to break this thing up before it got even more out of control. I’d like to have kept watching those guys for hours, but I figured I already had enough hot flashes stored up in my head for the rest of the semester.
They were in the thick of it when I came barreling down on’em, biting down on my whistle and blowing hard. Shit, they didn’t even seem to notice. I could’ve been Tweetie Bird for all they cared. Next thing I know they’re dog-piling Tad, who doesn’t seem to mind all that much. I have to physically break ’em up.
But these guys are like a pack of wild hyenas. I swear, I didn’t do one thing to encourage ’em. It was all spontaneous. I mean, one against four is hardly even odds, even when you’re packing as much solid muscle as me. These kids are wiry and fast and hormone-crazed. They’re onto me like lightning on a lightning rod, of which I gotta admit mine is standing straight out in my jockstrap. “Take it off!” yells one of ’em. “Everybody bare-ass!”
Before you know it, they’re ripping off my singlet!
This is too much. I figure I gotta restore some discipline in these kids or we’re facing utter chaos. “Everybody, break it up!” I yell. But they’re not about to cooperate. They’re all over me again, trying to dog-pile me. “Pile on Matt!” one of them yells.
Shit, I hadn’t wrestled another guy naked since I was sixteen. I’d forgotten what a total turn-on it is—and this was turn-on times four. All that bare, sweaty flesh stroking and pounding and slapping all over me—I swear, I felt like my whole body was a big, thick dick being whacked off in the palm of some giant’s hand. I think all the blood must have rushed to my crotch, making me weak. That’s my excuse, anyway, ’cause when consciousness came back Tad had me pinned on the mat and Bonar was blowing my whistle. How humiliating!
I’m breathing hard. Shit, the first rule of being a coach is: never let the guys see you out of breath. But they’re all as winded as I am…and covered with sweat…with their smooth, hairless chests heaving up and down…
Mattafrangiannini, snap out of it! You’ve gotta get on top of this situation!
I figure more than a little verbal discipline is in order for an outburst like this. I see four bright red asses in the immediate future.
“All right, you guys, what the fuck is going on here? Have you got any idea how many rules you’re breaking? What the hell am I gonna do with you dickheads?”
“Bonar started it!” says Tad. “He picked a fight with me. He said that President Obama’s brain was smaller than his dick.”
“I did not! I said his brain was smaller than Michele’s dick!”
“Bonar, you Tea-bagger shithead—”
“Boys, keep your political arguments to yourselves! All I know is that somebody around here is in line for a serious asswarming.”
“Bolt!” says Bonar, pointing a finger. “He’s the one who said to rip off your singlet. He’s the one who screamed, ‘Pile on Matt!’”
I turned to Bolt, who suddenly seemed to shrink down to about three feet tall. “Bolt, is that true?”
“Well, yes, maybe—I mean, I guess I got carried away…I don’t know, everybody else was already naked, and I’ve always wanted to see what you—” He shuts up and turns red as a beet. I’m thinking about turning his buttcheeks the same color and I feel a tingle in the palm of my hand.
“All right, Bolt, you’re first!” I grab him by the neck and push him down on all fours on the mat and bend him over my knee. Once I get a look at his naked ass, more than my palm starts tingling. I feel a twitch between my legs and my dick starts feeling fat and heavy. Even before I touch ’em, Bolt’s pale buttcheeks start trembling. He starts breathing fast—I can feel his chest pressing against my knee. The kid is shaking like a leaf! I figure he must be really scared, until I feel something firm and fleshy poking into my leg. It’s Bolt’s dick! Here he is, humiliated in front of his teammates and about to get his ass blistered, and the guy’s throwing a boner that’s oozing slime down the calf of my leg!
“Yeah, Coach,” I hear him whisper. “Do it.” His voice is so low it’s almost like he’s talking to himself, but I take the hint.
I let him have it. When my palm hits his sweaty ass there’s a crack like a rifle shot. The other guys have been hovering around, snickering and tugging at their dicks, but when they hear that crack they all jerk back. I think they’re a little shocked at how hard I brought my hand down.
“Oh, yeah, Coach!” Bolt hisses and flexes his buns. I stare at the red handprint on his ass, kind of hypnotized by it. Bolt arches up, like he’s trying to get away, but then he bows down again and sticks up his ass.
“Just like he does with Kelly, I’ll bet,” snickers Bonar. I glance up. Now the guys aren’t just pulling on their own dicks, they’re tugging on each other’s.
I let Bolt have it again. Crack! And again. Crack! And just a few more times to even out the pink blush that’s spreading all over his previously creamy white ass…
The whole time he’s bucking and flexing and crooning against my knee, until all of a sudden I feel something hot and slick splattering against my leg. The kid’s shooting off, not even touching himself!
“Always been hair-trigger…quick as a lightning bolt,” I hear Kelly mutter in a dreamy voice.
“Holy fuck, boy, you slimed me!” I shout. Shit, with everybody else working on getting his nut, I figure my dick deserves a hand. I push Bolt down on the mat and climb on top of him, squeezing my dick and slapping it against his face. He goes all girly and googoo-eyed. “Oh, yeah, use me, Coach!”
I flip him over and climb on top of him. I wrestle with my meat like it’s a python, manhandling it two-fisted, rubbing it all over Bolt’s face, slapping it against his neck. I just mean to beat off on his face, but the next thing I know, half my dick is buried in something incredibly warm and slick with a pair of red lips wrapped around the shaft like a ring.
“Whoa—holy shit!”
In another second the ring of lips is wrapped tight around the base of my dick and the whole shaft has somehow disappeared down Bolt’s throat.
“Kelly, no wonder you’ve been keeping the little cocksucker to yourself,” Tad whispers. I can barely hear him. It’s like my head is inside a ball of cotton—everything is muffled and far away except for the exquisite sensation shooting up and down my dick. Little Bolt seems to have an electric current in his tongue. I can feel the sparks flashing all over my cock as he eases it in and out of his mouth and massages it with his throat.
I pull out just on the verge of shooting and sit back on his chest, panting for breath.
“Hey, cut it out, Coach! Bolt is mine!” Kelly complains. Seeing his boyfriend get his butt blistered was one thing, but seeing him chow down on a big Italian sausage seems to set off Kelly’s Irish jealousy.
“Oh yeah?” I scramble up. “I bet Bolt can handle more than one man at a time.
“Well, maybe…” Kelly swaggers over. “Come on, cocksucker. Show the coach how you suck my dick!” Bolt wriggles up on his knees, holding onto both of us for support. He seems confused for a moment, kind of dazed at having so much cock in his face. He opens his mouth wide and swallows Kelly in a single gulp, milks him awhile, then turns and does the same to me. Back and forth between us, faster and faster, like he craves both dicks so bad he can’t stand having either one of them out of his throat for an instant.
I’m close to shooting again when all of a sudden Kelly pulls back and pushes Bolt down onto the mat. “Tell you what, Coach,” he gasps, his cock twitching and his chest heaving. “I’ll wrestle you for him!”
“Huh?”
“You heard me!”
“Ha! Kelly’s begging to get his balls busted!” sneers Bonar.
“No way! I bet Kelly can take the old guy,” says Tad.
I glance over and see that they’re rubbing against each other thigh-to-thigh and stroking each other’s dick.
Then I look down at Bolt, who’s crouching on the mat with his face up and his mouth open like a hungry bird, like he’s ready for any dick to come along to shove down his throat. “Okay, Kelly, you’re on!”
Who knew the kid could put up such a fight? I’d sparred with him a little before, but just to iron out his technique, never seriously trying for a pin, so I had some idea of what he could do. What I didn’t count on was his agility. I probably outweigh him by a hundred pounds, but no way was he going to let me steamroll him. Besides, he was fighting for something he cared about, with his teammates looking on. Bonar and Tad yelled and jeered and Bolt watched on his hands and knees, slackjawed with his ass in the air, looking more like a trophy than the official BBC trophy.
But let’s face it, superior muscle mass and years of experience will win every time. Kelly put up a pretty good fight, but once I’d flipped him a few times and knocked the wind out of him he started flagging. From then on it was duck soup. I played with him for a while, tossing him around and squeezing the breath out of him with some scissor holds. He tried to put a good face on it, but it’s hard not to wince when your ribs are bruised.
You could say I was a little sadistic, treating him like a rag doll, but I figured it was for his own good and for the good of the team. After having all hell break loose, this team badly needed to have some discipline and order restored, and I had to make sure I kept the guys’ respect. With this crew, that meant coming out on top, in more ways than one.
I guess that’s why the sudden impulse struck me. Instead of pinning him to the mat, I decided to finish the match a different way. As soon as I thought of it my dick started swelling up again.
That was a momentary mistake. My concentration broke. As weakened as he was, Kelly managed to show a last surge of life. He pulled me down onto the mat with him, but I managed to roll out of it and spring back to my feet. Then he sort of crumpled. He just couldn’t fight me anymore. I grabbed his head and straddled him, trapping him between my thighs. It only took a few strokes of my ropy dick and I was shooting off all over his face.
“Oh, gross!” says Bonar. “Shit, I gotta come.”
“Me, too, babe,” groans Tad. I get a glimpse of them through barely open eyes and see them straining against each other, fisting each other off. All of a sudden a fountain of cum starts spewing up between them, while they clench and shudder and grab at each other.
“Shit! Oh, Coach…oh, Kelly…damn!” Down on all fours, little Bolt is suddenly bucking like a bronco, pumping a second load out of his dick. The cream shoots all the way across the mat and splatters on Kelly’s knees.
Maybe it’s all that cum all over him, maybe it’s having my dick in his face. Maybe it’s being beaten by his coach in front of his teammates. Kelly’s the last to come, but the loudest. He grabs his dick with both hands and it shoots off instantly, spraying the mat like an Uzi out of control.
Everything goes dark for a minute, while my head swims in the sweet sensations of a truly fine climax. Finally I catch my breath. I figure when I look around I’ll see something like a battlefield, with all the guys flat on their backs, exhausted. But I guess I was forgetting how much energy these studs have.
I’m barely able to stand upright, and Bonar is all over me. “Hey, Coach Matt, bet you couldn’t take me down!” The little snot.
“Coach, you said you were going to spank all four of us,” whines Tad. He’s down on the mat, stroking my thigh and staring up at my dick. His legs are spread wide open and there’s the BBC trophy right between them—as if I needed the incentive!
Mattafrangiannini, I say to myself, have you bitten off more than you can chew?
And what the hell am I gonna say when the janitor comes in?
PUCKING PRINCE CHARMING
Logan Zachary
Once upon a time in the Land of 10,000 Lakes a prince searched for his true love in the Mini-Apple, Minneapolis…
“It sounds like an easy thing to do, but I don’t think you realize the magnitude of what you’re planning,” Tony said, as he touched my arm.
“How hard can it be to find the owner of this one skate?” I turned the Bauer American Flyer hockey skate over in my hand and looked at it from every angle.
“Like Cinderella’s glass slipper?”
“No, just a regular hockey skate.” I set it down on my coffee table and sat back on the couch.
“Matt, how many men were in the hockey tournament? And how are you going to get to all the places the teams came from?”
I didn’t say anything. Tony was my best friend. We’d never fooled around, but we were always there for each other.
“I don’t know anything about hockey, but couldn’t you have just grabbed his jockstrap with his name on it? Or maybe have seen the name or number on his jersey? Do you even remember the colors he wore?”
I laughed. “I was too busy looking at something a hell of a lot hotter than any of those things.”
“Describe him again.” Tony picked up his beer bottle, settled back and drank.
“He wore a goalie mask and loomed over me. His legs were hairy like tree trunks and solid. He had the tight ass of death and over ten inches of uncut cock. His arms were hairy, and he tasted amazing.”
“What did he sound like?”
“He didn’t say a word. He moaned and groaned with pleasure.”
“So how did it happen?”
“All the towels were dirty, and I figured I could run down to the locker room to fetch a few more before the guys started complaining. After all, it was my job.”
