The Transfer Jock, #37
🏈🏈🏈.
Mitchell and Jeff had been working on making arrangements for me to bone Landen in my office in the field•house during the following morning’s practice. I excused myself to take a leak once the plans were laid, and when I returned to the hot tub a few minutes later with a glass full of whiskey and ice, I asked, “So what’s it going to be first, steaks on the grill or fucking?”
“Fucking!” Mitchell and Jeff cried in unison.
🏈🏈🏈.
“Thank God,” I replied, relieved. “Too much talking about fucking and not enough fucking. By the way, the bar’s open, so help yourselves.”
As if to call me out on the notion that I hadn’t been at the center of quite a bit of recent fucking, Mitchell piped up, “Hey Coach, can I ask you a question? What’s it feel like to get fucked three...or maybe even four times in a row?”
“Four,” Jeff clarified, grinning proudly. He, Mitchell and Dewey had fucked me bent•over the back of my sofa, and when I’d taken Jeff into my bedroom to ‘punish’ him for slipping Dewey’s cock up my ass with me thinking he was Jeff, Jeff had fucked me again against my shower wall.
“It felt like always wanting more,” I replied, taking Mitchell’s question seriously. “Like with each great fuck, and they were all great, I still wanted more.” “Even after No. 4?” Mitchell asked.
“Honestly, especially after No. 4, as intensely satisfying as that fuck was,” I replied. “Leaving the shower I nearly asked Jeff to fuck me again.” “Fuck, Coach,” Jeff complained, “you should’ve spoken up, I’d have been happy to oblige.”
“Jeff, right after Coach fucks me like I need to be fucked,” Mitchell asked, “will you slide in behind him and do me again? I mean, if Coach doesn’t have dibs on you next.”
Mitchell was beautiful coming up out of the hot tub, sheets of water pouring off his slim, chiseled body, his huge cock no longer hard, but not soft yet either. When Jeff tossed him a towel, I asked him not to dry off his ass. I planned to begin with a leisurely picnic centered on his hot ginger•fringed crack, and there’s not much that flips my switch like wet scruff escaping from a crack cleaving two firm ass•cheeks. Mitchell provided that in spades, all before I could get down to his scrumptious tight pink hole, an opening that fascinated me to no end.
The fact that a thick piece of meat like Jeff’s (or less so, mine) could find such welcome refuge beyond his tightly•shut sphincter was a mystery to me, but I’d seen with my mind’s eye Jeff’s big dick disappear into that tiny pin•prick, and while I hadn’t actually seen Jeff fuck Mitchell yet, I knew he had, and I knew my own cock had been balls•deep past that puckered barrier earlier that day, though obviously I hadn’t seen more than the head of my cock enter him.
I arranged Mitchell on some pillows, ass to the ceiling, in the middle of my bed, raspberry•flavored lube close at hand, and told him to relax, I was going to take my time, before I asked him to roll over and pull his legs back. When I entered Mitchell the next time I wanted to be looking into his dark green eyes. Jeff asked if he could get close, and I encouraged him to pile up in bed with us and get as close as he wanted, suddenly realizing that part of the surprising (to me) attraction that an older (though not yet old) man held for these hard young guys who pounded the fuck out of whatever hole they could find was almost certainly the opportunity to learn a bit more about how to be not just a better fucker, but also a better lover. ‘Fuck, even when I’m off work I’m still a goddamn teacher...’
I parted Mitchell’s crack and buried my face in his still•wet ginger fringe, then licked his crack from the top to his taint, working my tongue back to that fascinating tight pink hole. When my tongue lapped his puckered eye, he moaned. Spreading his cheeks until that pucker opened slightly, my tongue darted inside him - and then I moaned. I could feel Jeff’s hot breath on my neck - he was hovering that close - and his hand slip into my crack, his fingers skirting my bulls•eye.
I turned partly around and showed Jeff how I had rolled my tongue and then burrowed into Mitchell’s tiny opening. Jeff shifted and a moment later his hands were spreading my cheeks and his tongue was tickling my asshole. Mitchell’s sphincter relaxed a bit and I had my rolled tongue inside him, rotating, licking the inside of his anal canal, pushing deeper toward his rectum as he moaned and starting asking for dick, then demanding dick. Jeff’s tongue entered me slightly, tentatively, its first ever foray into an asshole...and then he was licking me an inch or two deep...
...This, eating ass, is not what you think you’ll be doing that first time you and your friend touch each other’s hard adolescent dicks, the first dick not your own that you ever touched, and you realize that as good as his hand feels wrapped around your cock, you’re not sure but that his cock in your hand doesn’t feel even better, even electric, and how that very first time, for me at least, you’re surprised at how quickly both of you are ejaculating into each other’s fumbling hands and all over everything else, shooting cum several feet across the room...there were no thoughts then that one day you’d wish you had licked his cum off your hand, and yours off his, and another day, later still, years later most likely, you’ll be sorrier still that you never tasted that first special friend’s asshole or, in my case, never even saw or touched it...that was all long before we learned that the male asshole and the next several inches beyond it are, in fact, another and too often under•appreciated sex organ...
“Jesus Christ, Mitchell,” Jeff said, laughing after removing his dexterous tongue from some marvelous dark depth, and looking up from between my parted cheeks, “I’ve never heard so much fucking moaning and groaning. What’s Coach doing to you up there?” “Not fucking me,” Mitchell said, sounding almost forlorn.
“Some of that moaning was me,” I admitted, wiping my face with a damp rag I had handy. Jeff had not only gotten the hang of rimming, he’d moved my needle with his nimble tongue. If ass really is ‘an acquired taste,’ as I’ve often heard, and never believed, Jeff appeared to have acquired that taste in virtually no time. I remember thinking that it was entirely possible he’d just become the only kid at our school to have rimmed another guy. “I think maybe you ought to rollover now, Mitchell.”
“Just fuck me, please,” Mitchell said as he rolled over, letting his rock•hard cock breathe at last. “Now.” I hadn’t really been thinking about the possibility of Mitchell’s big dick bonerizing while I was munching on his ass, and all that hard cock created something of a dilemma for me. I had Mitchell primed for the fucking he needed, but his ten•inch cock looked to me like it needed sucking, too. My problem was that, except for being with Mitchell earlier that day, I’d never fucked a guy with a ten•inch dick before, and I found that cock hard to ignore. ‘Maybe just a taste,’ I thought, but before I closed on his cock I stopped. “Hey Jeff, check this out.”
“Pre•cum, bro!” Jeff shouted. “See? Because you didn’t beat your meat today.” He wiped a finger through the clear, sticky ooze seeping out of Mitchell’s huge boner and transferred it to Mitchell’s grinning mouth.
“You’re mistaken, I did beat my meat today,” Mitchell corrected Jeff, “but only once.” “What the fuck?” Jeff asked, laughing. “When? Why?”
“Spying on you fucking Dewey in the locker•room,” Mitchell replied, also laughing. “That was too fucking hot not to watch, and not to crank one out...but I wish I’d known you guys were going to flip, I’d have saved my load for the second act.” I was laughing my ass off with Mitchell, and Jeff joined in.
“You’re a fucking trip, bro,” Jeff said, “remind me not to rely on your sneaky fucking ass to lock me in the locker•room again.” 🏈
🏈🏈🏈.
