The•Transfer•Jock

[the-transfer-jock]

Links to Every Episode of The Transfer Jock (## 91 -1__).

💦💦💦.

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Links to Every Episode of The Transfer Jock (## 61 -90).

💦💦💦.

Each episode of The Transfer Jock is individually tagged as “ttj __”, e.g., ttj1, ttj2, ttj3, etc.

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Links to Every Episode of The Transfer Jock (## 31 -60).

💦💦💦.

Each episode of The Transfer Jock is individually tagged as “ttj __”, e.g., ttj1, ttj2, ttj3, etc.

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Links to Every Episode of The Transfer Jock (## 1 -30).

💦💦💦.

Each episode of The Transfer Jock is individually tagged as “ttj __”, e.g., ttj1, ttj2, ttj3, etc.

Simply touch the tag below to find the episode for which you’re looking. Enjoy!

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[jacks-new-dick-2]

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.” 🏈

🏈🏈🏈.

[jacks-new-dick-2]

The Transfer Jock, #31

🏈🏈🏈.

Jeff had barged into my house to find Mitchell putting the wood to me, bent over the couch with my backside to the front door. I didn’t know that he had brought Dewey with him, and had immediately arranged for Dewey to step in behind me when Mitchell finished and vacated my ass. Having limited my corruption of student•athletes to two (thus far), I imagined that involving a third, Dewey - Student Athlete 3 - would be the tipping point for my arrest and prosecution...

Student•Athlete 1 [Jeff] was instead hiding behind the sofa laughing his ass off while ‘Student•Athlete 3’ (as Dewey would invariably be identified in my inevitable subsequent indictment) ‘anally penetrated his lascivious and depraved head football coach, who encouraged and commanded Student•Athlete 3’s moral degradation by shouting vile incitements to him such as ‘Oh fuck yes...fuck me with your [huge student penis]...’

While I’m no lawyer, even I understood that denying emphatically that at the moment in question (or ever) I had uttered the words ‘fuck me with your huge student penis,’ after reluctantly admitting that I had, in fact, said rather loudly (but not shouted) ‘Oh fuck yes...fuck me with your big dick,’ or words to that effect, would not be an especially compelling defense.

••••••

Nor did I believe that my explanation for using such language at that moment, which was that I had innocently believed I had been addressing Student•Athlete 1 (who had not fucked me in over 12 whole hours and, as a consequence of that cruel deprivation, I was missing him terribly), and not Student•Athlete 3, would tend to exonerate me in the slightest.

🏈🏈🏈.

Having slid head•first at jet•speed down that slippery slope of fucking student•athletes under my charge and expanding the circle of possible criminal complainants (or careless smack•talking braggarts, or innocent pillow•talk between one of my ‘conquests’ and some even less discreet queer he was boning when not boning me) to three, I knew it was only a matter of time before my awful secret got out.

I could well•imagine being arrested, handcuffed and frog•marched out of the field•house, and then prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law for my crimes, with every ‘carnal touching’ of one of my student•athletes constituting a separate felony offense:

PROSECUTOR: “But you do admit that you also used such filthy and despicable language while being anally penetrated by Student•Athlete 2, a minor, do you not?”

“I do not,” I protested. “What I actually said to Student•Athlete 2, a well•endowed minor, was, ‘Fuck me with your GIANT ginger cock...NOW!’”

“And it is true, is it not, that when Student•Athlete 3 expressed reservations about proceeding with the act of anal intercourse, you demanded that he continue against his express wishes?”

“‘Demand’ is such a strong word,” I objected, “and I don’t recall Student•Athlete 3 ever expressing reservations about engaging in anal intercourse with me...see, I was confused about which student•athlete was actually fucking me at the time, and he offered to...um, discontinue...in favor of Student•Athlete 1, and I said, um, “Don’t you dare fucking stop!” So I can kind of see how you might misconstrue that as a ‘demand, but I was in no position to compel him to continue.’”

“But you weren’t satisfied with violating only Student•Athlete 2, a minor, and Student•Athlete 3, were you, Coach?” the prosecutor demanded, spitting the word ‘coach’ out of his mouth as if it had been a turd. “You then violated Student•Athlete 1, correct?”

“I would say I was MORE than satisfied,” I countered, “by the time, no, even before Student•Athlete 2, a minor with a huge penis, nutted explosively ten inches up my ass. He was also very well•satisfied, I might add. And I would argue that if anyone was violated it was ME, since I didn’t realize that Student•Athlete 3 was the student•athlete who happened to be fucking me, technically without my permission - but I didn’t feel violated at all.”

“Sir,” the prosecutor sneered, “immediately after engaging in anal intercourse with Student•Athlete 2, you engaged in anal intercourse with Student•Athlete 3, correct?”

“That’s true,” I admitted, “I just said that, but as for ‘engaging in anal intercourse,’ the student•athletes really handled all of the ‘engaging’ while I was taking care of the ‘receiving.’”

“And immediately after engaging in anal intercourse with Student•Athlete 3, you engaged in anal intercourse with Student•Athlete 1 in the presence of Student•Athletes 2 & 3, isn’t that true?”

“It is,” I agreed, “subject to the previous caveat.”

“And immediately after engaging in anal intercourse with Student•Athlete 1 in the presence of Student•Athletes 2 & 3, you pulled Student•Athlete 1 into your bedroom by his very large penis and shut the door, after telling Student•Athletes 2 & 3 that you intended to ‘severely punish’ Student•Athlete 1?”

“Yes, but—”

“The prosecution rests, Your Honor.”

🏈🏈🏈.

Expecting Jeff’s thick rock•hard 18•year•old cock, I had gotten Dewey’s thick rock•hard 18•year•old cock instead, not that I think I could have told much, if any, difference between them. Had I known at that moment that Dewey was the one boning the fuck out of me, though, I would’ve mistakenly believed what I was experiencing was a rock•hard 17•year•old cock, since I didn’t yet know that Jeff had gotten just about everyone’s ages wrong but his own.

Finding out later that Dewey was in fact 18 provided only minimal comfort, not nearly enough to overcome the growing sense of dread engendered by the knowledge that I was then guilty of having sex with three, and not ‘just’ two, of the student•athletes under my tutelage and supervision. More troubling to me than the fact that I had corrupted yet another student•athlete, I’ll admit, was the fact that there was yet another witness to my crimes. No matter how much each of them assured me he would never tell a soul about what he and his friends had done with Coach, the more guys involved, the likelier the story would eventually get out. Jeff himself had already told (at least) two guys, Mitchell and Dewey, incidental to his recruitment of them.

But I didn’t know that yet. I was still bent all the way over the back of the couch, so the only thing I could see without straining my neck was the fabric on the couch. The first clue that everything was not as expected was, or should have been, immediately upon “Jeff’s”/Dewey’s penetration of me when I vaguely realized that “Jeff” was wearing a rubber, but I didn’t think then how odd it was for “Jeff” to have suddenly decided that he was into condoms after bare•backing me half•a•dozen times the day and night before.

It took a couple of minutes of straight•up hard fucking for my brain to register “Jeff’s” sudden condom use as being downright weird. I recall thinking during those first two or three minutes of ass•pounding that “Jeff” usually started slower and varied his tempo more, but I just assumed in the moment that zero•to•sixty pedal•to•the•metal butt•fucking was yet another of Jeff’s variations. And it’s not like I wasn’t enjoying his urgency or wanted him to slow down - I was enjoying the fuck out that man•ramming and had no intention of asking him to slow down.

What I never noticed, and probably should have, though, was the absence of low•hangers slapping against my ass. Getting pounded by Jeff like “Jeff” was pounding me then always put his big, loose nut•sack in rapid motion. And one thing that was (or should have been) a dead•giveaway that someone other than Jeff was cleaning my clock, but never occurred to me until afterwards, was the fact that Jeff ALWAYS runs his mouth non•stop while he’s fucking (top or bottom), and not just words, he makes all kinds of other noises, too - grunts, groans, yelps, shouts, you name it.

But “Jeff” wasn’t making a fucking sound, not with his mouth, and he hadn’t said a word. On later reflection, the only sound I could recall having heard while I still believed Dewey was Jeff, apart from Mitchell’s panting, was the squelching sound of a big, lubed, latex•covered cock being driven, repeatedly, into and pulled partially out of my gaping asshole before being slammed home again.

Presumably if the fucking had gone on long enough without “Jeff” running his mouth and without his balls slapping against my ass, I might have registered those oddities - but at the pace “Jeff” was keeping up, that fucking was destined to end soon. So if Dewey hadn’t shifted the grip of his hands from my hips to my shoulders, I might never have known that I was getting plowed by Dewey and not Jeff. The position of Dewey’s hands was not in itself a tell, though. It still took me deciding to stretch my neck and just happening to glance to my right to notice that the firm hand on that shoulder was black instead of white.

“Dewey??” I asked, momentarily confused. Of course it was Dewey. Sure, there were other black kids on my team, but none of them were queer as far as I knew, and Jeff hadn’t stuck around after practice to fuck any of those other kids. Dewey immediately stopped pumping his rock•hard 18•year•old cock into my ass.

“Yes, Coach?” he asked sheepishly as his stationary cock throbbed in my rectum, and Jeff laughed loudly in the background. You might think I was pissed off, but I wasn’t, certainly not at Dewey, whom I’d been plotting to fuck in the next day or so anyway, extra witnesses be damned. I really wasn’t even pissed at Jeff, though I was maybe a tad aggravated with him.

“Dewey, for God’s sake, don’t stop now,” I told him, “but I expect you to kiss me before you fuck me next time.” Dewey got back down to business without further ado. I expect the embarrassment of the situation or a desire to terminate the somewhat awkward encounter as soon as possible had something to do with how quickly Dewey got off after our very brief mid•fuck conversation, but like I said, with the amount of friction he had been creating, that fuck had been destined for an early ending anyway.

Dewey, ever obedient, was railing me full•speed again in no time, creating even more of that cock•on•smooth•muscle friction, and he was nutting soon after. Dewey came quietly but with authority, just like he fucked. If the period of time during which Dewey’s grip on my shoulders suddenly became a vice•grip until that grip finally relaxed is any measure of the intensity of his orgasm and how long it took him to drain his balls, that must have been a huge fucking load expelled with force into his rubber.

“We might as well finish this train, Jeff,” I said after Dewey pulled his spent cock out of my fuck•tunnel, “before I punish the fuck out of you.🏈

🏈🏈🏈.

[jacks-new-dick-2]

The Transfer Jock, #5

https://lusstspiel.blogspot.com/2019/12/the-transfer-jock-5-by-jack-richards.html?m=1

The transfer jock (5) -- by Jack Richards

Where gay literature meets gay art meets other gay excesses.

[jacks-new-dick-2]

The Transfer Jock, #15

🏈🏈🏈.

Inflamed by my report that I’d seen über•jock and presumed•straight Dewey ogling Jeff’s junk in the I locker•room on several occasions, my star tight•end demanded my ass and fucked the living shit out of me for the third time, not at all unlike the way he’d fucked me the second time, only harder and not for nearly as long. There were no pauses to delay orgasm, and the only variation in tempo was: harder, faster, deeper.

🏈🏈🏈.

I didn’t keep a stopwatch on Jeff, but I’d be surprised if he lasted five minutes, which was cool - I understood that fuck was solely, or mostly, about Jeff getting his rocks off, kind of like an emergency fuck necessitated by Jeff’s unexpected realization that Dewey’s exotic milk•chocolate cock might actually be available to him, a cock that for whatever reason he’d never considered to have been within his reach.

Still, there’s nothing quite like an 18•year•old rock•hard jock•cock on the single•minded mission to nut, rocking his 34•year•old coach’s ass at full speed. His big dick was traveling up and down my rectum with all the authority I’d ever fantasized about, and then some, lighting up the pleasure•receptors in my smooth muscle lining with every thrust and retreat, his balls slapping furiously against my ass and my head•board banging against the wall. I was just a (poor) stand•in for Dewey during this bonus•fuck, and I knew that if Jeff were ever fortunate enough to fuck the real Dewey, that kid was going to get the ass•fucking of his young life.

I thought Dewey probably was within Jeff’s reach, but it’s easy to read too much into what appears to be a ‘cock•starved look.’ And even if the expression on Dewey’s face (multiple times) when his eyes seemed to have been locked onto Jeff’s meaty dick really had been a ‘cock•starved look,’ that sure as fuck didn’t mean Jeff could walk up to Dewey out of the clear blue the next morning and successfully hit on him. And even if cock•starved Dewey did bite, that didn’t mean the two of them would be fucking on my living room floor within the next fifteen minutes (or ever)...or that Dewey would somehow think that turning such a fortuitous fuck session with Jeff into a three•way involving his football coach would be a swell idea.

I felt a change in Jeff’s pounding rhythm that made me think he might be nearing the end of my ‘bonus•fuck.’ “Hey Jeff, would you mind coming in my mouth?” I asked. I love oral and I’d had precious little of that thus far with Jeff since his cock had mostly been doing what it was doing at that moment. I wanted his young, strong cock in my mouth, and I wanted to taste his cum. I had also had the sense that his two previous powerful orgasms had produced a prodigious amount of semen, but there wasn’t really any way to gauge how much cum he’d deposited eight+ inches up my ass, and I was simply curious about the size of his load.

“Mind?” Jeff asked, laughing, and barely slowing while he answered me. “Fuck yeah I’d love to blow in your mouth, Coach...I’m close...I’ll slap your ass just before I pull out...then you roll over damn fast...I’ll climb on your chest...” I counted eight or nine deep, rapid•fire strokes after Jeff stopped talking before he slapped my ass and quickly pulled his thick plunger out out of my ass, making a loud popping sound.

I rolled onto my back and Jeff was almost instantly clambering onto my chest and shoving his super•engorged cock, which he was gripping tightly around its thick base, into my waiting mouth. He managed about half a stroke before he shuddered convulsively and I felt and tasted the hot jets of his cum flooding my mouth and throat, me swallowing as much of his salty, almost•smoky, slightly sweet semen as fast as I could, but not keeping up with his continuing eruption, the excess spilling down my chin.

All I can say with certainty about the size of Jeff’s third load is that I’d never had an orgasm like that one myself, nor had I ever swallowed close to that much cum before. So, yeah, that was one prodigious load. God only knows how much ejaculate Jeff had ejaculated the first time he’d cum that night, with me riding his cock hard on the locker•room bench. I kept sucking Jeff’s dick until it began to soften and he pulled it out of my mouth, and then rolled over onto his back, once again drenched in his exquisite jock•sweat. He knew by then that I’d want my face buried in one of his sweaty armpits, and so raised the arm nearest me as an accommodation.

After I’d inhaled and tasted my fill of Jeff’s wet, musky armpit, I settled back into his arms with my head resting on his heaving chest. “Hey stud, tell me how you and Mitchell hooked up,” I whispered, feeling the blood flow to my cock in anticipation of hearing about how Jeff’s balls had come to slap against Mitchell’s skinny ass...and wondering to what extent his ginger scruff could be seen creeping out from between his milky•white ass•cheeks.

“One of my greatest finds,” Jeff replied with a chuckle. “Keep in mind I just parachuted in here a few weeks ago, a dude with a definite taste for other dudes, and I didn’t know anyone except Landen...but I didn’t know him well...he was just a friendly face. Mission One was to discreetly scope out all of the potential merchandise, Mission Two would be to find out which cocks of the ones I was interested in sucking were actually suckable by another dude. So I’d pretty much checked out most of the guys’ junk and other particulars in the locker•room or showers during my first week. I’m certain I missed a few, am probably still missing some of them...those are the ones that keep up at night...”

“I bet I haven’t seen more than half, no, 60% or so, of the guys’ dicks...” I interjected.

“No shit, Coach,” Jeff said, laughing, “‘cause you’ve spent about 99% of your shopping time zeroed in on one particular penis. Thankfully, I might add. Anyway, you’re bound to have overlooked some real gems, probably straight, but still gems. But don’t worry, Coach, between the two of us, we’ve identified most of the good•looking queers or likely queers...you, me, Landen, Dewey, Sam, Mitchell, possibly Alex...statistically, there shouldn’t be many, or any, more homos on the team, maybe a couple more dudes who’ll never show their hands...”

“Sam’s a homo?” I asked, adopting Jeff’s lingo. I’d thought of Sam, a big, strapping, hearty O-lineman whose cock was somehow always covered or obscured when I’d made my rounds, when I’d first tried to guess who besides Landen Jeff had been fucking in the locker•room, but I’d never mentioned Sam’s name to Jeff.

“Affirmative,” Jeff laughed. “Sam’s the dude who inadvertently pointed me toward Mitchell for further investigation.” “Before you tell me how that happened,” I said, “do you know if Sam has a cock? I’ve never been able to get a look at it, and not for lack of trying.”

“He does,” Jeff assured me, laughing. “Anyway, the way those two dudes, Sam and Mitchell, always looked at each other when Mitchell was, is, passing out towels to wet, naked jocks...Mitchell only ever had eyes for Sam, and Sam only ever looked at Mitchell like he wished he was naked, so it was pretty clear to me that, No. 1, they were more or less a couple, and, No. 2, Mitchell had something in his pants that Sam really liked...”🏈

🏈🏈🏈.

[jacks-new-dick-2]

The Transfer Jock, #34

🏈🏈🏈.

“Now we need to get back to the others,” I told Jeff, wrapping my towel around my waist in a way to best accentuate my erection, “before they think we’re fucking again. Let’s talk with Mitchell about how we break the logjam after Dewey leaves...Mitchell, I should’ve thought about that sooner. That horse•dicked kid can organize a fucking wet dream...your strong suit is recruiting...and fucking...you keep recruiting - and fucking, especially fucking me - and we get Mitchell to organize this wet dream...”

“Fucking brilliant, Coach,” Jeff acknowledged as he cinched up his bulging towel. I wondered how quickly he could be hard and inside me again, pretty fucking soon, I’d have bet, but I let the thought go for the time being.

🏈🏈🏈.

Mitchell and Dewey were laughing and drinking beer in the hot tub when Jeff and I returned. I was glad they felt at home enough to help themselves to my beer, recognizing that providing beer to what I thought were a couple of 17•year•old ass•fuckers was the least of my worries. “Hey Dewey, can I have a quick word with you?” I asked. Dewey popped straight out of the hot tub, showing off a big, fat, aroused•but•not•quite•hard cock. I dropped my towel to put him (more) at ease. We huddled together out of ear•shot from Jeff and Mitchell.

“That was kind of an awkward introduction we had earlier,” I began, “but you were fucking awesome and, um...Jeff tells me you’ve got plans tonight, so, look, I just wanted to say to you, if you’re interested in...the two of us, ah, spending some more time together...either with these guys or not...I mean, I know you’re probably here...like for Jeff or Mitchell...” Dewey took our two cocks and squeezed them together tightly in both of his hands.

“...then I’d really like that...” I continued, after gulping. There’s nothing quite as promising as having your hard cock squeezed into the stiffening cock of a hot jock you’re into and feeling him get fully hard against you.

“Count me in, Coach, for anything you have in mind,” Dewey said quietly. “I do have to go now, but I was waiting to kiss you goodnight and ask you if we can get together again real soon.” Dewey was hard again, his thick cock throbbing against my hard•on. He closed his eyes, opened his mouth and met me in an electric kiss. “Those two studs over there in the hot tub, I’ve got some more business with them, too, but as far as I’m concerned they can take a backseat to you, Coach...you’re why I’m here...and I’m sorry I let our first time go down the way it did...that was completely disrespectful.”

“Forget it, Dewey,” I said breathlessly, “if I’d known you were here the exact same thing would’ve happened, except we probably would’ve kissed first,” We kissed again, a long, hot kiss, until Dewey finally broke off again. He looked down at our straining cocks, let go of them with one hand while still holding us firmly together, and with his free index finger smeared some of the precum leaking out of my dick all over the heads of both our cocks. Then he stuck his finger into his mouth.

“Mmm...I’m sorry but I really gotta go, Coach...if I weren’t so fucking late already, I’d bend over and beg you to fuck me right now...” Dewey said, preempting the very suggestion I’d just been about to make. I doubted I would’ve delayed him by more than three minutes, but I didn’t press the issue. He yelled a farewell to the guys in the hot tub, dressed hurriedly inside, and gave me another quick kiss goodbye.

“Tomorrow,” I said. Mitchell would have to tell me when tomorrow, but it was going to be tomorrow. “Fuck yeah,” Dewey said, and then was gone.

“No, no, no, just wait,” Mitchell was saying to Jeff when I returned to the hot tub, “I get the logistics problem, but I don’t understand what the ultimate goal is...I really need to work backwards from that.”

“Cool, hold that thought,” Jeff replied, then said to me as I was about to climb in with them, “whatever was going on over there between you and Dewey was just about the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen that didn’t involve me.”

“Yeah it was, but hold that thought,” I said to Jeff, but Mitchell interrupted me before I could say to him what I’d planned to say.

“Whoa, Coach, hold up,” Mitchell said. “Is that pre•cum oozing out of your beautiful boner? Because, if it is I sure would like to lick it off before you waste it in here. I fucking love pre•cum, but I never, or almost never produce any myself.”

“Probably because you masturbate too much,” Jeff chimed in. “If you’re cranking it a lot, it’s a known fact that your dick isn’t as eager to fuck, so it just skips that step.” That reeked to me of total bullshit, covered with an ever•so•slight patina of plausibility.

“Really? Hmm,” Mitchell replied. “Well, that could be it then because I do jack off all the fucking time.” That kid was full of surprises.

“Have at it, sport,” I said, sticking my oozing boner in Mitchell’s face. He gobbled it up, licked me clean, squeezed out a few last drops and licked them up. When he’d released my unit with a “Thanks, Coach,” I climbed into the hot tub and sat between my boys. Then I turned to Mitchell and said, “I haven’t spent nearly the amount of time with you today as I’d hoped to.” I kissed Mitchell as deep and long as Dewey and I had just kissed, my hand finding and closing around his very hard and very large cock underwater.

“That’s OK, Coach,” Mitchell said, “I know you’re spread kind of thin. That’s why I’m staying over tonight...but, um, easy on my dick, OK? I don’t think any of us have a spare load to blow underwater...well, Jeff might...”

“Jeff might,” Jeff agreed, “but let’s not test it until we know how much fucking we’ve got ahead of us, which is one reason I called on you for your logistical expertise. So, before I tell you ‘the ultimate goal’ that you’re going to be counting backwards from, you need to know the fictional assumption looming just behind that ‘ultimate goal,’ which is that, come Monday morning, Coach is suddenly going to retire, if not from coaching, then from fucking me, you and his other favorite student•athletes, like forever. Now, now, I know that’s as fucking preposterous as it sounds, that you’re no more likely to accept that than I am, which is not at all, but that’s the fictional assumption that, um, compresses our calendar...

“But accepting that assumption,” Jeff continued, “just for the sake of argument, or really for the sake of avoiding an argument with Coach, our ‘ultimate goal’ is to give Coach, on Sunday afternoon or evening, his deepest, darkest, secret•est desire, which is to have half a dozen prime high school jocks pull a train on him—”

“Half a dozen?” Mitchell asked, wide•eyed. “You, me, Dewey...Landen? Landen...who else have you got? Do they all have to be football players...or managers...because I could probably get a fucking stud baseball player...that’s still just five, though...Sam, maybe, but I’d rather not...”

“Alex,” Jeff said. “You’re shitting me, Alex is a homo?” Mitchell asked in disbelief. “That fucking stud•muffin? I’m pretty sure Alex is straight, bro.” “You didn’t believe Dewey was a homo, either,” Jeff pointed out smugly.

“Yeah, but now I’ve seen that shit with my own eyes,” Mitchell said. “Alex though? I dunno...” “I’ve got it on good authority from a dude who’s been exchanging bodily fluids with Alex all summer,” Jeff said, still smiling smugly.

“Dewey,” Mitchell guessed, “that fucking homo. So those two have been sneaking around all summer, being queer together without letting any other homos know they’re potentially available. Goddammit, I could’ve fucked that guy back in the spring, but the vibe wasn’t...didn’t feel...quite right, maybe because he’s so fucking shy...anyway, I dropped it.”

“Dude, no telling how many other homos you’d have uncovered and attracted to your bright flame if you’d only been showering with the team since, like when two•a•days started. Fuck, since last season. Alex would probably be your bitch by now.”

“But you don’t know if Alex will be queer with us, let alone boink Coach with a bunch of other guys watching?” Mitchell asked, still skeptical. “Have I asked him, no,” Jeff said, “but he will. Dewey owes me at least one shot with Alex. Alex will come through for ME, anyway, and Dewey and I can convince him to do the group thing...besides, all those other hot homos, except for maybe you, aren’t going to just be standing around beating their meats waiting for their turn...

“Let’s say there are six of us and you’re pounding Coach first,” Jeff continued, “which is NOT going to happen, by the way, you going first - that’s just an example - that means there’s me and four other big swinging dicks, or three other big swinging dicks plus Alex, for me to suck while we wait, and those dudes are going to be sucking cock and ass, too. No self•respecting homo is going to turn down that cock•cornucopia, I don’t care how fucking shy he is. So don’t worry about Alex. Assuming he doesn’t flub his audition by taking a dump on my chest, he’ll be there. But we still don’t know shit about your supposed baseball player...” 🏈

🏈🏈🏈.

All episodes of ‘The Transfer Jock,’ #s 1 - 106, are also available in (mostly) reverse chronological order at the top of:

http://jacks-new-dick-2.tumblr.com and

http://the-transfer-jock.tumblr.com.

All missing episodes have now been reposted on both blogs. Each episode has been individually tagged on http://the-transfer-jock.tumblr.com, and links/tags to every episode will remain at the top of that blog.

[jacks-new-dick-2]

The Transfer Jock, #40

🏈🏈🏈.

I could barely get through morning announcements, dismissing the team to the field, before off•handedly adding that I wanted to go over some film with the starting QB, and asking Mick, my no. 1 assistant, to take charge of practice for a few minutes. “Hey Mitchell, set up the projector, would you?” I felt like I’d just announced to the entire locker•room that I was about to butt•fuck Landen in my office, and I’d rejoin them just as soon as I’d nutted in the QB’s golden, hairy ass, but the team (except for Landen) broke and charged down the hill as if I’d said nothing unusual. ‘Well, of course Coach has to butt•fuck Landen before he can actually start coaching,’ I imagined all of them thinking as they ran to the field.

🏈🏈🏈.

Mitchell, who by then had become my personal fixer, had briefed me as thoroughly as he’d briefed Landen on how our office tryst should go down. For some strange reason Landen had brought his own lube (as if I didn’t have special hot•teenaged•jock•lube squirreled away in the office where student•athletes absolutely could NOT be fucked in the ass by their coach (at least not before that day), and I didn’t need to worry about using a rubber. The critical thing Mitchell had stressed, apart from time, was that me closing the door and locking it would be Landen’s signal to drop his shorts and bend over my desk. There was zero ambiguity in the situation and no need to say a word, he’d assured me, “No foreplay, just stick it in and fuck him, and get off as fast as you can. Landen wants it more than you can imagine, and he knows you’re both on the clock.”

I was casually perched on the corner of my desk, my all•too•obvious boner struggling to get out of my tight green coaching shorts, waiting for my QB to report for duty. It wasn’t a long wait. Suddenly Landen was standing in my doorway, rapping with his knuckles on my open door, his inspired cut•off jersey showing off his tanned six•pack and treasure trail. His erection was even more prominent than my own, reassuring me that he knew exactly what the score was. “You wanted to see me, Coach?” “Fuck yeah I do,” I blurted out. “For God’s sake get in here.” Landen stepped in, and as I stepped past him to close the door, I went off script immediately and grabbed his boner through his shorts and squeezed. I could feel his heart beating through his engorged cock. He smelled like the clean sweat from an early morning run. He smelled like the testosterone he was oozing.

For all the fun some of the guys made of him behind his back for ‘being such a fucking homo,’ there was nothing about Landen that wasn’t virile and masculine - unless you’re one of those fruits who think taking it up the ass (a lot) isn’t virile and masculine. Landen struck me, not at that moment but more generally, as a good•looking jock who knew exactly what he wanted and wasn’t shy about telling you. What he wanted - reportedly - was a high hard one up his ass, and the story was that he wasn’t all that particular about whose it was. The teasing, as I understood it, wasn’t about Landen being a homo, but about him being a promiscuous homo.

A rumor that Jeff, who had fucked Landen on half a dozen different occasions (twice on some of those occasions, and three times the one night he’d slept over, plus once more the following morning), passed along was that Landen’s ‘niche’ or specialty or whatever was straight guys, that he was a cum•dump for straight dudes, preferably groups of them, who wanted to test•drive a homo or just get their rocks off. ‘Say you had not a whole Boy Scout troop but a group of Eagle Scouts drawn from a bunch of troops having some kind of special camp•out to celebrate their heterosexuality by pulling a train on some stud homo, Landen’s a guy they might take camping.’ When I asked Jeff how he knew that, he’d said, ‘Duh, Coach, I’m an Eagle Scout.’ Of course he was.

“The door, Coach,” Landen whispered urgently, “and lock it.” I let go of Landen’s dick and turned to close the door and lock it. When I turned back to Landen he was facing me, gym•shorts and jockstrap down at his cleats, with a bigger, thicker, tastier•looking erection than I’d expected sticking straight up out of his blond pubic hair, pre•cum oozing over his partially rolled back foreskin. He was every bit as hot as I’d ever imagined. I dropped my shorts and jock, pulled my shirt over my head, tossed it aside and rushed to take him in my arms, forcing his mouth open with my tongue, gripping and squeezing our hard•ons together (as Dewey had done with me the previous night), before pulling his shirt over his head so I could suck his pert brown nipples, which I did, both of them. “Fuck, Coach, you’re on fire!”

“For you,” I said just before I sucked his beautiful, hard, throbbing uncut cock into my mouth, tasting the sweetness of his pre•cum as I kneaded his big floppy nuts. Landen’s pair certainly qualified as low•hangers, though they didn’t hang as low or heavy as Jeff’s. “Uh, Coach, um,” Landen stammered after a minute or so of my head bobbing furiously up and down his shaft, “we really don’t have time...I mean, I should’ve bent over a couple minutes ago...” I knew he was right and reluctantly stood up. The last thing either one of us wanted to do was to piss off the kid with the clipboard and ten•inch•cock on the other side of the door.

“Would you rather top me?” I asked on a whim, meaning that I would’ve loved to sit on Landen’s boner and slide all the way down it into his lap. “No, sir,” he replied, “not rather, but I will if that’s what you want.” “But surely you’ve topped before?” I persisted. Everything I’d heard about Landen (mostly from Jeff), whether accurate or not, was that he was a super•horny bottom, period, he never topped. “Sure, Coach, a few times, but it’s not really my deal,” Landen said. “Left up to me, I’d lean against this desk for you every time.” His hands were all over my cock and balls.

“This time...we should do that,” I said, laughing, “before Mitchell blows a gasket, but next time you’re not getting off that easy.” “Coach, if there is a next time, and I hope to God there is, I’ll bone the fuck out of you, or try to, if that’s what you want,” he said as he assumed the position, leaning over my desk and bracing himself with his hands, legs shifting to a wider stance, curly blond hair covering his ass and peeking out of his crack, his big balls visible between his muscular legs. “But you need to bone the fuck out of me right now, Coach...and no need to be gentle...get in, get off, get out.”

I did bone the fuck out of Landen then, or almost then. But first I couldn’t resist burying my face in his beautiful ass, demarcated by a strong tan•line suggesting Landen had spent a good part of the summer in an exceptionally skimpy Speedo. I had his hard cock firmly in hand and, as my tongue probed his hole, I felt his cock suddenly swell and he ejaculated convulsively, for what seemed like a long time. “Oh fuck, Coach...I’m sorry...I couldn’t hold it any longer...I stopped jacking off, like you said.” I couldn’t see his load then, of course, because he was bent over it, but later I saw that there was cum everywhere. When I eventually compared notes with Jeff, he assured me that, ‘Oh, yeah, Landen always cums big, a real cum•fountain.’

“Shhh..shhh...” I whispered in Landen’s ear, stroking out the last of his cum as my lubed cock punched into his very receptive receptacle...entering Landen was like entering a deep tub of soft butter...there wasn’t much resistance but it still felt divine. “Oh, fuck yeah!” Landen said pretty loudly, his ass pushing back to meet my cock, “fuck me hard, Coach, fuck me hard! That’s right, give me all of that big fucking cock!” It didn’t take much of that, me slamming hard and deep into that soft, buttery interior, his ass grinding back like you’d expect from a truly experienced bottom, his fat, cum•soaked cock still gripped in my right hand, before I was convulsing ecstatically, blasting rope after rope of seed into my bent•over QB. It had been quick (once I got back on Mitchell’s script), but incredibly intense.

Landen got cleaned up and dressed in no time, apparently having a solid understanding of what a ‘quickie’ was supposed to be about, while I looked longingly at the lake of cum on my desk. Not quite ready to deep•six that beautiful mess, I just wiped my cum•covered hand and cock off on the towel I’d grabbed. As Landen turned to leave, I grabbed him by his strong throwing arm and pulled him toward me, kissing him again. “I’m sorry it was like this, Landen, but it was still special...” And not just ‘special’ in the way a 34•year•old coach fucking one of the 18•year•old jocks on his team in his office for the very first time is always ‘special.’ “Special...like I want to see you again, and soon. Would that be OK with you?” “Fuck yeah it would,” Landen said, beaming. “You mean Sunday night?”

“Yes, I mean, no, but yes...” I was having a little more difficulty making myself understood than I’d expected. “I meant, yes on Sunday night, but that I’d like to see you again before then, too.” “I can hardly wait, Coach, whenever you want. Mitchell and Jeff know how to reach me. See you on the field.”

When the door opened and Landen emerged, Mitchell, who was seated on the nearest chair, clicked off his stop•watch, scowling and shaking his head. Then he stood up, barely acknowledging Landen. 🏈

🏈🏈🏈.

All episodes of ‘The Transfer Jock,’ #s 1 - 90, WERE also available in reverse chronological order at the top of:

http://jacks-new-dick-2.tumblr.com and

http://the-transfer-jock.tumblr.com.

Unfortunately, 15 scattered episodes have since been blocked by Tumblr. The missing episodes (of which this one) are being restored.

[jacks-new-dick-2]

The Transfer Jock, #41 & 41.5

🏈🏈🏈.

When the door to my office opened and a freshly•fucked Landen emerged, Mitchell, who was seated on the nearest chair, clicked off his stop•watch, scowling and shaking his head. Then he stood up, barely acknowledging Landen.

🏈🏈🏈.

“See ya, stud, and thanks again,” Landen said warmly to Mitchell as he hustled out of the locker•room. Mitchell didn’t say anything in response.

As soon as Landen was gone, Mitchell rushed into the office to make sure there were no rubbers, lube, semen, stray clothing (e.g., a cum•stained jockstrap that had been labeled ‘LANDEN’ with a Sharpie) or other incriminating evidence left behind. “Jesus Christ,” he said, pointing at the pool of cum on the desk. “All his?” I nodded, then started wiping up gobs of Landen’s creamy semen with a towel - after tasting it first and finding that there was an appealing earthiness to Landen’s cum. “He might still turn out to be an ass•wipe, I’m not sure yet, but I think he’s a better dude than I was giving him credit for...he gave me a pretty decent hand•job this morning, like, I mean, his idea and everything.”

“You deserve a helluva lot more than that,” I told Mitchell, pulling him into my arms and kissing his neck. “Stop it, Coach,” he hissed, and broke free. “Somebody might see. Now c’mon, cut it out, we gotta get going...you and Landen took way too long, 13:07 minutes between door closing and opening again...you sucked his cock, didn’t you?” “Not for THAT long,” I protested.

“Can’t say that I blame you, Coach,” he empathized with me. “When I saw how thick his boner was...and how it sticks straight up...and that foreskin...it was all I could do to lay off it myself.” I told Mitchell as we walked down the hill to the practice field that I wanted another session with Landen before Sunday. “No shit?” Mitchell replied. “Well, I was thinking of getting Dewey to bend•over for you in between practices, not for the whole time, you know, maybe drop by around 2:00 p.m., but I could swap Landen into that slot...yeah, this could work out pretty well—”

“2:00 today is perfect for Landen,” I interrupted, “because he’s going to top me. I owe Dewey a topping, but I don’t want to fuck anybody again until at least after practice. I’m slowing down, I’m afraid.” “Landen fucking TOPS?” Mitchell asked in disbelief. “Well, like I was saying, swapping Landen into Dewey’s tentative slot could work out pretty well, because Jeff and Alex are going to hook up at your place in the morning, and you know Alex and Dewey are sort of a couple, or at least each other’s fuck of first resort...so we’ll get Dewey to come at the same time, the four of you fuck in the same room...you could even cross•pollinate some if you guys wanted to.”

“What are you going to be doing while the four of us fuck?” I asked.“Watching and jacking off, I hope,” Mitchell replied, laughing. “Maybe making notes on my clipboard.” “I want Alex to sit on my face,” I said, “make a note of that, please.”

“I can make all of that happen, Coach...Landen, Dewey, Alex...Alex sitting on your face. Check.” “You’re a fucking wizard, Mitchell.” “Coach,” Mitchell said, changing the subject, “I think you changed my life last night.”“If that’s true,” I replied, “I hope it was in a good way.” “In the best fucking kind of way,” he said. “Hey, do you mind if I hang out while Landen’s trying to figure out where his dick goes? He really wants me to fuck him, so I was thinking if there’s time after he learns how to top, you know, I might...”

“Sounds good,” I said, “but feel free to sandwich Landen, no need to wait until he finishes with me. Check with him first, obviously. You’d be a pretty big surprise for anyone. And pay attention, you could learn something from Landen. He’s a fucking•A good bottom.”

I thought that practice would never end, and all I wanted to do was go home and take a nap. I did manage to drop by Landen’s locker afterwards, though, to congratulate him on a great practice - and pre•practice - and see his fat, flaccid, uncut cock one more time. Landen dropped his towel to the floor as soon as he saw me coming. “I’ll see you at 2:00, right, Coach?” he asked. That Mitchell sure was an efficient fucker. “Right,” I said. “You know what I want?”

“Yes sir,” Landen replied. “I’ll do my best, Coach.” What a pleasure it was to watch his fat cock getting fatter and fatter before my very eyes, until Landen, blushing, finally had to scramble for his towel to keep from showing at least partial wood in the locker•room. “Sorry, Coach, but you do that to me all the time.”

“I wondered what caused that,” I said, chuckling. “And I’m looking forward to being with you again. Don’t worry about it, you’ll be great.” I’d think he was great if all he did was let me suck his cock to within an inch of orgasm and then shoved it up my ass to blow his load. Worst case, if he didn’t make it in time he could lick his cum out of my crack.

“Landen says you were fucking awesome,” Jeff said when I stopped by his locker to check on his big, soft, beautiful cock. The locker•room was just about the only place I had a chance to see him soft. Around my house Jeff was naked about 98% of the time and he seemed to have a near•permanent rock•hard erection. Not that I was complaining.

“I was adequate, at best,” I admitted, “and I can’t believe he’s already talking about it.” “Well, in fairness,” Jeff conceded, “I asked him...and kind of egged him on.” “What are you going to do now?” I asked. “I was thinking I’d take a dip and then just chill by your pool, if that’s OK,” he said. “Wanna fuck by the pool?” I whispered.

Jeff laughed. “Why, you dirty old man,” he said softly. “Yeah, that’d be very fucking chill. See you in a few, Coach.” It was gratifying seeing the dick on a stud like him begin to swell with just a few words, though not nearly as obviously as had Landen’s.

“You still want my cell number?” I asked Dewey at his locker, making no effort to hide the fact that my eyes were drinking up his big milk•chocolate sucker. He turned around so I could get a good look at his killer ass, possibly the best in the locker•room, then, for Chrissakes, he bent all the way over, pretending to get something out of the bottom of his locker. I saw exactly where I’d be inserting my cock the next morning.

When he finally stood up and turned back around, he said, “That’s what I wanted to do you for you last night, Coach. I can hardly wait until tomorrow morning. But, nah, I don’t need your number now. I just didn’t want you forgetting about me.” “That’s not gonna happen,” I assured him.

“I know, that’s what Mitchell told me,” he said. “Say, Coach, can I ask you something on the down•low? Like, if I’m out•of•bounds, you just say so...but I can see how tight you and Mitchell are, and that’s cool, but I was wondering if you’d be pissed if I asked him to hook•up...cuz it didn’t look like to me you all were exclusive...” Not exactly exclusive, since on either side of him pile•driving my ass, he’d watched Mitchell and then Jeff fuck me, and then seen me pull Jeff by his still•hard cock into my bedroom and close the door. “He’s fair game, Dewey,” I replied, “but don’t break his heart, because I do love him.”

🏈🏈🏈.

“Hey, stud,” I greeted Alex at his locker, by far the most brazen thing I’d ever said to him. I was continuing my rounds of the locker•room, checking on the all the guys who’d been booked for an ‘audition,’ and who would be invited to participate in the train planned for Sunday night. “You were a beast in practice today...just wanted you to know I’ve been paying close attention to you.” I was paying especially close attention to Alex’s firm hairy ass at that very moment. I’d caught him wearing just his jockstrap, the pouch of which was stuffed full of what I knew was a knobby uncut cock. He really did have a super build, like a gymnast or wrestler, every fucking muscle defined, and probably the hairiest chest and belly in the locker•room...which, I noted for the first time, seemed to be neatly trimmed. How had I missed that relevant fact before? Straight teen•agers don’t trim their body hair, do they? I’d have to ask Jeff about that.

“Thanks, Coach,” he said, grinning, his perfect white teeth sparkling. “I’m really glad you noticed. And I’m really looking forward to tomorrow. Um...Mitchell, he...uh...said that if either one of us, um, you know, wanted a closer look before then...like, maybe you’d have to pee or something...” “Alex, I’m really glad we had this talk,” I replied, “but if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to take a leak.” I nodded almost imperceptibly toward the restroom, and he followed a dozen or steps behind. I could feel the blood rushing to my cock, which was already out by the time Alex stood in beside me.

“Fuck, that’s beautiful,” Alex whispered, glancing over as he fumbled with his jock. My dick was then just about as beautiful as it gets, flush with blood so that it was at the peak of its flaccid state, just before someone might’ve noticed that I had a semi if I were any more aroused. Alex’s dick had always fascinated me, a fist•sized uncut bulb of a cock, slimmer at its base than at its shrouded head. Alex peeled back his foreskin to reveal its glistening head and had apparently somehow applied Miracle•Gro to his dick, which filled with blood and stood up completely before my very eyes, stretching out to a thick 7 inches, or nearly so. “Fuck, that’s what I call beautiful,” I croaked through my constricted throat.

“Can I show you something else?” Alex asked as he looked over his shoulder to make sure we were still alone. When I nodded he spit a wad of saliva into his palm and with no more than 15 or 20 rapid, twisting strokes, he was spewing loads of cum into the urinal. Holy fuck! I recovered from my utter shock just in time to stick the palm of my hand right in front of his cum•fountain to catch the last of the semen expelled with any force. Just as quickly I was lapping his exotic, spicy jizz off my hand with my tongue. Mmmm, a Mediterranean taste to compliment his Mediterranean good•looks.

“No worries, lots more where that came from,” Alex assured me as he milked the last of the drops and dribbles into the urinal. Checking behind him again, he asked, “Can I have a quick feel, Coach?” When I dumbly nodded my assent, his almond•colored hand closed tightly around my throbbing boner, then released me. “We better go, Coach,” he said as he stuffed his softening cock back into his jock and flushed.

“I want you to sit on my face tomorrow,” I found myself whispering, to my surprise. “I know, Coach,” Alex replied as I zipped up. “Mitchell told me. He said me sitting on your face could be a life•changing experience.” “That might be true for both of us,” I acknowledged.

“Hey, Mitchell,” I said as I made my last locker stop of the morning, “nice dick, by the way.” He was soaking wet and toweling himself off. “Gorgeous body. What are you doing until 2:00?” “Chilling,” he said, “unless I get a better offer.” “Jeff and I are gonna fuck by the pool. Want to join us?”

“You mean Jeff and I are gonna take turns boinking you?” Mitchell asked, laughing. “Because I seem to recall you saying you were retiring from fucking student•athletes until at least after late practice...” “Correct,” I agreed, laughing, “and whatever you two studs want to do with or to each other...under my watchful gaze...would also be appreciated.”

“Put me down for all of that,” Mitchell said. “And Coach, I need to ask a favor from you...would you include Sam in that afternoon huddle for Finn? I still think it’s better not to include him in the Sunday deal, but none of the other guys know about that yet anyway. The point is to showcase all the known homos on the team for Finn, right? And who knows, Sam might appeal to Finn.”

“Sam’s a good•looking guy, Mitchell,” I agreed, “and I think he’d appeal to any queer who knew he was queer. So, yeah, that’s a great idea.” 🏈

🏈🏈🏈.

All episodes of ‘The Transfer Jock,’ #s 1 - 90, WERE also available in reverse chronological order at the top of:

http://jacks-new-dick-2.tumblr.com and

http://the-transfer-jock.tumblr.com.

Unfortunately, 15 scattered episodes have since been blocked by Tumblr. The missing episodes (of which this is one) are being restored.

[jacks-new-dick-2]

The Transfer Jock, #42

(Introducing Finn and Max)

⚾️⚾️⚾️.

I spotted the big blond first baseman as he jogged up to the practice field and began to stretch on the sidelines, obviously finishing up a longer run, because he was drenched with sweat. Finn was about the same height as Jeff and Landen, but he was bigger, thicker, a big strapping hunk. My first thought as a football coach was to wonder why that stud wasn’t also playing football. My second thought was to say a prayer that he wouldn’t be creeped out by the thought of fucking a fit, good•looking guy who was roughly twice his age, at least once. I was slightly encouraged, not on the age question, but that he was still, if not ‘100% homo’ then at least queer enough, by the warm manner in which he greeted Mitchell, a fist•bump followed by a bear hug.

In truth, given the explicit nature of his invitation, the very fact that Finn was there pretty much settled the question of whether he was ‘queer enough,’ certainly with respect to the queer jocks his own age - and he ought to have been hugging Mitchell for introducing him to a group of good•looking studs who all sucked cock, bent over for other dudes, and fucked other guys in the ass. Moreover, the group to which he was going to be introduced was - or was becoming - a bottom•heavy group in need of another top. Even the most top•oriented of the group were comfortable with taking the ‘right cock’ up the ass (and to my knowledge none of them had yet found a ‘wrong cock’).

I waved Jeff over, as the three of us had arranged in between the two long, leisurely, pool•side ass•fuckings Jeff and Mitchell had given me after first practice, and gave him a written list of the guys I wanted to see on the sideline, and he went about rounding them up:

Landen

Jeff

Dewey

Alex

Sam

Max

Max was a late addition, a cute sophomore wide receiver and the back•up QB. I couldn’t recall ever seeing Max naked, for sure not his dick. Mostly he was added as a decoy, a kid with no known connections to any of the others...but a guy Alex had flagged for Mitchell as a possible homo, apparently based on a couple of ‘looks’ and ‘glances,’ but still worth watching. “So what if he IS queer, fuck, he’s what, 15?” I’d complained loudly, but Mitchell assured me that Max had an early birthday and was 16. Max might be 16, but he looked like he could easily be 18, somehow always managing to have about three•days growth of dark stubble on his face, or, I should say, an 18•year•old’s three•days growth.

“Besides, Coach, putting Max in this group doesn’t mean anyone’s going to fuck him, the point is he’s in the group because no one is fucking him. And I’ll tell Finn he’s off limits.” With that assurance, and a second•hand report that the kid had a large penis, I was ready to start watching Max a lot more closely at shower•time, whether he was queer or straight. While Jeff was summoning the group I drifted down the sideline closer to where Finn and Mitchell were talking, plainly enjoying each other’s company.

When the buffet of beautiful jocks was all assembled, I explained that I’d called them over because I’d chosen the five older guys to be captains in the following week’s scrimmage, and Max was included because he was getting the nod at starting QB for the blue squad in the scrimmage, plus I saw him as our QB of the future, after Landen graduated. “So I want to talk to all of you about the importance of leadership both on the field and off...”

At the same time, Mitchell was giving Finn a break•down of that fortuitous assemblage of talent: “All of those players are masculine, well•endowed homos, except for that cute guy in the red shorts, kind of wavy, long, dark hair? He’s straight, or at least there’s no reason to think he’s not. And he’s too young. The other five are all certified homos, known to suck cock and fuck both ways to varying degrees. That tall, dark•haired stud with the dimples, wearing the cut•off #88 jersey? That’s Jeff, my best friend. He helped me arrange this. He’s got a huge fucking cock and he’ll probably hit on you later. Sex with him is great, plus he’s funny as shit...

“...None of the others know anything about you and aren’t expecting to meet you. That tall, ripped blond, the QB? He gave me a hand•job spontaneously this morning in the locker room, and Jeff and I tag•teamed him in between practices today. Nice fat uncut cock. Almost 100% a bottom. [[“Is he an Eagle Scout by any chance? Or likes to hang out with Eagle Scouts? Used to have a buzz cut, like last summer?” Finn asked]]. That black dude? Also hung, great body, best ass on the team, in my opinion. Him and Jeff flipped last night in the locker•room...and he asked me out today. Well, you get the picture. Questions?”

“If you could have only one of those studs which one would you pick?” Finn asked. “Jeff, hands down, but I’ve been with most of those guys before, not all, and wouldn’t refuse any of them. Jeff, though, he’s future boyfriend material once he gets over...some older dude.”

“You wouldn’t choose the Coach?” Finn asked. “I’ve seen him around school plenty, last spring, you know, and he’s a total fucking smoke•show...God, but he’s wearing out those green shorts...”

“Well...I..um...if he wanted to, I mean, sure...but...” Mitchell stammered. He hadn’t expected that, but should have. He’d thought Coach was the hottest one in the locker•room, too. As had Jeff. “Is he married?” Finn asked. “You ever hear any rumors about him or shit like that?”

“Single. Rumors...no,” Mitchell replied. “C’mon, let me introduce you so you can get a closer look before Coach dismisses everybody.” “Great, but one last question, what do you get out of this, Mitchell?”

“Simple, I liked being with you last spring,” Mitchell said, “and I want you to fuck me, no strings attached.” “Done,” Finn said, laughing. “Tonight, if you want. Do you still want to fuck me?” “Fuck yeah I do,” Mitchell replied, “but I know that—”

“We all change, bro,” Finn interjected, “just like you did. Could be your lucky night...and mine. I’ve missed you, too, bro.”

⚾️⚾️⚾️.

“So the main thing I want to know,” I said after Mitchell had introduced Finn all the way around, “is why a big, athletic guy like you isn’t playing football, too?”

“Coach, there’s almost nothing I’d rather be doing,” Finn said, “and I did until last fall, but last season I had a couple of concussions...after two, my parents said ‘that’s it,’ and, you know, the doctor said a third could be, well, pretty devastating. I still love the game, of course, and I miss it. And I’m a huge fan of yours.”

“Nothing to see here but some great, hard•working players,” I said, “but thank you. I’m really sorry that you had to give up the game, but it was the right call, Finn. I wouldn’t let a kid with two concussions keep playing, either. If you want to be a part of this, though, we could use another student manager/trainer.”

“Yeah, but you’d have to shower with the team after practices,” Mitchell chimed in, and everyone laughed. “That’s a rule?” Finn asked. His running shorts were soaked through and clung to his ample bulge. All of those homos, of course, were checking Finn out. Even Max seemed to have eyes for Finn’s bulge. Maybe, I couldn’t be sure about that. “Fringe benefits,” Jeff said to more laughter. Nobody laughed louder than Max. He had an infectious laugh and a great smile. I also happened to notice that his package was more than ample.

“Speaking of showers,” I said, “the rest of the team’s heading in. Let’s go, guys!” I shook Finn’s hand again, and I don’t think I was the only one prolonging the grip. Finn didn’t seem to want to let go either. I was also gratified that he checked out the bulge in my tight green shorts, more than once. “Think about my offer, Finn. I’d fucking love to have you.”

“I will, Coach,” Finn replied, “and thank you. We might do some great things together, who knows?” My bulge bulged more. All of the group was heading up to the field house, except for Mitchell and Jeff (also prearranged), and I hurried to catch up. I didn’t want to miss Max coming out of the showers.

“So what do you think?” Mitchell asked Finn.⚾️

⚾️⚾️⚾️.

All episodes of ‘The Transfer Jock,’ #s 1 - 90, WERE also available in reverse chronological order at the top of:

http://jacks-new-dick-2.tumblr.com and

http://the-transfer-jock.tumblr.com.

Unfortunately, 15 scattered episodes have since been blocked by Tumblr. The missing episodes (of which this is one) are being restored.

[jacks-new-dick-2]

The Transfer Jock, #43

⚾️⚾️⚾️.

“So what do you think?” Mitchell asked Finn, after his preview of all the known homos on the football team. Coach and the team, excluding Jeff and the team’s manager, had hit the locker•room after Friday’s late practice.

⚾️⚾️⚾️.

“What do I think? That Coach is queer for me,” Finn replied, laughing, “and that he knows I want him as much as he wants me. I mean, did you guys really miss all that?” “I’d say you’ve got great fucking instincts, Finn,” Jeff admitted, “but before we break that shit down, did you also happen to notice how queer I am for you?”

“I did, Jeff,” Finn said, laughing and clapping his hand on Jeff’s shoulder, giving it a good squeeze, “and I’d show you how queer I am for you...except I’ve really got a thing for Mitchell, too, and I’ve already made a promise to him about tonight.”

“Mitchell and I are sharing a surprisingly large amount of shit lately, bro, including hot guys,” Jeff suggested.

“Oh, I’m going to hold you to your promise,” Mitchell said helpfully, “but you can show Jeff how queer you are for him. I don’t mind, so long as you show me how queer you are for me next.”

“OK...” Finn said, looking around, and then clamped his hand firmly on Jeff’s junk as he brush•kissed his ear, whispering loudly so Mitchell could hear, too, “From one transfer jock to another, I want you, you fucking stud.” He squeezed Jeff’s big bulge hard before letting go.

“That’s pretty fucking queer, dude,” Jeff said, laughing. “Queer me like that anytime. Now queer Mitchell.” Finn checked around again to make sure the coast was still clear, then planted a wet, open•mouthed kiss on Mitchell’s lips, forcing his tongue past them, while slipping his hand inside Mitchell’s gym•shorts, inside his bulging jockstrap, grabbing and then massaging his familiar huge cock.

“Ahem,” Jeff cleared his throat loudly, “buzzards!” Finn broke clear quickly, looking around and seeing that players were already starting to trickle out of the field house toward the parking lot. “Thanks, man,” Finn said, “I’m so queer for Mitchell I’d have gotten us busted.”

“I saw that,” Jeff noted drily, “but at least you want me, too, don’t forget that.” “I do and I won’t,” Finn confirmed. “Now can we unpack the shit about your queer coach and how I can get into the sack with him after the three of us go find some vile and unspeakable things to do?”

Jeff and Mitchell exchanged looks. “I think we’re going to have to use a new strategy, bro,” Mitchell said to Jeff. “Yeah we are,” Jeff agreed, “honesty. Always a good fallback in a pinch. But first, what’d you think about all those other homos.”

“Sure,” Finn replied. “First, I’m with the two hottest guys in the group right now, with the possible exception of Coach, which we’re going to talk honestly about in a minute. Second, while I’d love to see all of the rest of them naked, I’d fuck every one of them, including that straight kid. In fact, if he weren’t straight and off•limits due to age, I’d rank him right below you guys. Third, I’m almost positive three other Eagle Scouts and I fucked that tall blond QB all night long one night last summer...he wasn’t as big then, and he had a buzz cut, but I’m almost certain it’s the same dude. I bet he took a dozen loads, and a few other ghost•fucks, and he was down for more but he’d burned all four of us to the ground.”

Jeff whistled loudly. “Jesus Christ. But, yeah, I was an Eagle Scout, too, and I’ve heard stuff like that about Landen. C’mon, we’ll spill our guts so we can get on with that vile and unspeakable shit you mentioned before you got to Landen.”

“Aw, guys, don’t look so forlorn,” Finn said, draping an arm around both of their shoulders as they walked slowly up the hill, “we’re all friends here. Tell you what, you tell me honestly what’s on your minds, and I’ll share some honest shit about myself. I’ve got a little problem, one I can solve, but I have a feeling you homos could come up with a better, less painful, solution. Say, you guys do really do group shit, right? Because I was thinking that might be a lot of fun tonight.”

🏈🏈🏈.

While Mitchell and Jeff were recruiting Finn, I was trying to tamp down my burning desire for the big strapping first baseman by providing some much needed locker•room oversight. Since Mitchell was absent with leave, I stationed myself outside the showers to hand out towels to emerging wet, naked jocks, reaching my position just in time to see Max turn left into the shower•room, giving me an excellent view of his firm ass and hairy crack. I also caught a tantalizing glimpse of the head of his dick and maybe another inch or two flopping out of sight, which told me he had enough dick to flop around when he walked, and I thought what I’d seen had been pretty thick, and possibly uncut.

While I was waiting for Max to come out and give me the full frontal, I saw a couple of other new penises, both on straight kids, both nice but average. I also got another good look at Landen’s fat cock, which I’d had the pleasure of sucking into a boner that afternoon before he’d shoved it tentatively into my ass, face•to•face on my living room floor. He had been nervous, a lot more nervous than he’d been taking it up the ass in my office that morning.

I know having Jeff and Mitchell watching hadn’t helped, so I tried to talk him through it, telling him that the only thing that mattered to me was that he’d been willing to give it a go and to take it slow and easy so I could feel all of his rock•hard cock at full depth, anything else, including any additional in•out•in movement, would be gravy. I’d had an idea that he was concerned about possible premature ejaculation, which was true, he did have that concern, related to me by him after the fact. But Landen had done fine and, while he was something of an early squirter, it wasn’t what I’d call ‘premature.’ He’d earned that orgasm after filling me up completely, and managing some vigorous in•out•in movement. He’d immensely enjoyed the endorphin rush that accompanies a climax following real physical exertion, though not as much as he’d enjoyed getting tag•teamed by two of the three biggest cocks in the locker•room right after he’d finished in me.

I winked at Landen as I handed him his towel, and he had the good manners to throw it over his shoulder rather than cover up his beautiful cock - and to clear off to his locker so as not to block my full frontal of Max, who was not far behind Landen. Jesus Christ, how could I have overlooked Max’s big, thick, floppy penis for over three weeks? It looked like a fucking beer can. And Jeff had obviously overlooked that beauty as well. Maybe because he and I had only (or mostly) had eyes for each other.

Mitchell was probably fully aware of Max’s big, fat cock, but I’d never asked him to point out huge dicks I’d overlooked, just to point out possible homos I’d overlooked. Mitchell obviously thought Max was straight, which he probably was, and too young, which he definitely was. Of course, Mitchell had thought Dewey and Alex were straight, too. And after Alex had been recruited, he told Mitchell that he thought Max might be queer, and that he hoped he was because Max was hung - which I’d just confirmed for myself.

“Hey Max, you’re the last one out, right?” “Yes sir.” “Good...then can we have a quick word while you get dressed?” I asked. I just wanted to see more of his young, straight beer•can•cock. When he said ‘sure, Coach,’ I dropped the pile of folded towels I was holding onto the floor and followed Max’s dripping wet delicious ass (towel over the shoulder, great manners noted) to his locker which, because of his lack of seniority, was in a far corner, deserted, at least at the moment. He turned and flashed a winning smile at me, and I decided on the spot that he wasn’t cute, he was ruggedly gorgeous. And he certainly didn’t look all that young - in addition to his three•day beard, he had some nice if still thin hair beginning to spread across his chest, encircling his hard nipples, and fine soft black down fanning out across his flat belly from the thick well•defined trail leading from his shallow navel straight down to his trimmed (!!!) pubes...and Ground Zero.

Max raised his towel and dried his long, dark wavy hair, giving me plenty of time to stare at his huge uncut student•athlete beer•can•cock and take note of his exceptionally bushy armpits, post•coital candy for me. Whatever else this kid was or wasn’t, he was extremely comfortable in his own skin. If only I could think of some excuse to get him to bend over and spread his ass cheeks apart for me, but the only excuse for asking him to do that was...

“So what’s up, Coach?” he asked, smiling coyly as he reached down and stretched his foreskin.🏈

🏈🏈🏈.

All episodes of ‘The Transfer Jock,’ #s 1 - 90, WERE also available in reverse chronological order at the top of:

http://jacks-new-dick-2.tumblr.com and

http://the-transfer-jock.tumblr.com.

Unfortunately, 15 scattered episodes have since been blocked by Tumblr. The missing episodes (of which this is one) are being restored

[jacks-new-dick-2]

The Transfer Jock, #44

🏈🏈🏈.

Max raised his towel over his head and dried his long, dark wavy hair, giving me plenty of time to stare at his huge uncut student•athlete beer•can•cock and take note of his exquisitely bushy armpits, post•coital candy for me. Whatever else this kid was or wasn’t, he was extremely comfortable in his own skin. If only I could think of some pretext to get him to bend over and spread his ass cheeks apart for me, but the only excuse for asking him to do that was...

“So what’s up, Coach?” Max asked, smiling coyly as he reached down and stretched his foreskin.

🏈🏈🏈.

I swear Max was looking straight at my crotch when he asked me, ‘What’s UP, Coach?’ as he slowly toweled off his fat balls, underneath his fat dick, lifting up his unobscured cock and making it flop around everywhere. He was oozing the kind of masculine sensuality that usually made my cock stir, and that encounter was no exception. Then with his piercing blue eyes looking directly into mine, Max casually reached down - for the second time - and stretched his foreskin down over the slightly exposed head of his dick and pulling it back off its blunt head. Naturally, that distracted me, causing me to take my eyes off his to follow his hand, thereby establishing to Max without any doubt that his coach, obviously a pervert, was ogling his beautiful, and quite mature, equipment.

I put Max instantly in the Dewey•Jeff size category, though with maybe a centimeter or two less dick, and very close to Jeff in the wanton•ness category. But this kid was straight, I’d been assured. This kid teasing me with his foreskin was NOT straight. Mitchell had left me alone in the locker•room with a ravenous gay wolf...a young ravenous gay wolf in sheep’s, er, in NO clothing. I knew then that I should turn and flee from him, locking myself in my office until the danger passed. But I didn’t.

“I just...um...uh...wanted to tell you...ah...how impressed...I am with you...um...your...” I stammered, completely discomfited by Max’s wanton virility (focusing so intently on not saying ‘COCK’ that I nearly did) “um, how impressed I was with your...um, CO—, by what you said in our leadership meeting. Also with your leadership on the field. You have a great work ethic, Max, and you’ve got a bright future here. You’ve got the right tool...um, tools, all the right tools...to go all the way...to be very successful.” Max made no move to cover himself with his towel or to get dressed. In fact, the only move Max made was to occasionally touch his fat dick or big nut•sack, as if I could have forgotten that fat beer•can and the low•hangers hanging between his legs for one instant.

The locker•room was clearing out rapidly, as it always did on a late Friday afternoon. I suddenly felt like I was in danger of getting trapped by a hot•as•fuck 15•year•old or whatever he was, 16, didn’t Mitchell say? Fuck, Max looked every bit of 18, I remembered. I was already imagining his rock•hard 18•year•old jock•cock pounding my hole, sliding furiously in and out of my aching rectum, and then burying my face in his sweaty, bushy armpits after he’d pumped a quart of his hot wolf•semen into my deep, empty spaces. I might as well have spoken those imaginings aloud, given the dead giveaway of my suddenly extra•prominent bulge, all too visible in those fucking stretchy•tight green shorts that Mitchell had made me wear.

“Thanks, Coach,” Max replied, looking straight at my boner. “I really appreciate that, and the fact that you came over to my locker to talk to me. I’ve been watching you for awhile...and I think I know what this locker visit means.” His voice was soft and almost flat, but sensual, hypnotizing when combined with the tick•tock of the constant readjustment of his fat pendulum. “Wh..what do you think this means?” I asked, awaiting my exposure as a child•fucker...No, no, he’s 18, I reminded myself.

“That there’s something about me that you find attractive,” Max said confidently, “at least I hope there is. Look, Coach, some conversations are hard to get started...so let me try to start by asking you this: Was every single guy in that leadership meeting today queer? Because both of the guys that I know for a fact, from personal experience, are homos, including myself, were there, plus everyone else in the locker•room that I’ve suspected, in differing degrees, could be or probably are queer. The big blond guy that Mitchell introduced, who, by the way, was hot•as•fuck, I don’t know anything about, but I could make a guess about him, too, based on my pretty solid theory on Mitchell’s orientation and role. Anyway, if there are other, um, meetings of that, um ‘leadership group,’ like the after•hours or off•campus kind of meetings, I want to be included, and I’ve got a fuck•load to contribute.” Max flopped his even•fatter cock a couple of times for emphasis, to ensure that I understood exactly what he had a fuck•load of to contribute.

I suddenly wished that Mitchell, my personal fixer/procurer (the role to which Max was surely alluding), were there to make the unseemly arrangements for me, to assign Max a time slot, a lengthy one, in my bed, maybe one that included Finn. But Mitchell wasn’t there, he was probably blowing Finn while Jeff was taking that stud’s cherry, so I’d have to muddle through on my own, and probably poorly. There was no scenario that I could envision, apart from Max suddenly saying, ‘Just kidding, faggot,’ that didn’t end with Max fucking me or me fucking Max, or both, and within the next hour.

“How old are you, Max?” I asked as I moved closer to him, putting one foot up on the bench, leaning into him, accentuating my erection. “Old enough, Coach,” Max replied, “or as old as you want me to be. Look, Coach, I’ve probably got more experience than any of the other homos you’re spending time with, with the possible exception of Landen. He and I have swapped stories, very personal stories, so if Landen’s telling the truth, he’s been around the block even more than I have. And he’s told me that Jeff has fucked him a bunch of times...he told me that every one of the many times I’ve fucked him. So don’t worry about protecting my ‘innocence.’ I lost that a long time ago, with sincere thanks to my older brothers.”

“The twins?” I asked. I probably should’ve made that connection sooner. They hadn’t been football players here, but I had known them by sight and reputation. They were total studs, openly queer...and notoriously so, maybe three or four years older than Max. “Yes, sir,” he said, “but don’t think they molested me...it was the other way around.”

“A couple or three of the other guys I’ve been told are queer,” I said, quietly, deciding not to lie, “but I don’t know that for a fact, though I assume it’s true. The rest, including myself, I do know are queer, the same way you know Landen is queer. I’m sure you understand it’s not my place to tell you their stories or secrets. And you, I was told that you were straight, and I didn’t have any reason to doubt that. Just as I’m not going to tell you their stories, I won’t be talking about yours either. Now, would you mind if we talked about your potential contributions in my office in a few minutes? You were direct with me, Max, and I want to be even more direct with you...but behind closed doors. OK?”

“Sure, Coach,” Max replied, “I just want you to know that if the reason you’re standing here right now with a hard•on, and inviting me to your office, is because you want to fuck me, and I hope it is...well, I feel the same way about you. I want you now, Coach.”

“Make sure everyone else has left, Max,” I said as I readjusted my boner, “and then come see me in my office.” I looked quickly around and didn’t see or hear anyone else. I reached out and lifted his meaty cock off his ample balls, though it was already beginning to lift itself off his ample balls, and gave it a gentle but firm squeeze. “God help me, Max, I do want you. Before you pop into my office, put on some clothes you can get out of in a hurry, OK?”

“Yes sir, Coach,” Max replied, grinning ear•to•ear, his cock swelling more in my (slightly) trembling hand.

🏈🏈🏈.

Max was in my office ten minutes later wearing a muscle•shirt, which showed off his strong, muscular arms and intoxicating arm•pits quite well, loose fitting (and bulging, plainly commando) gym•shorts and flip•flops. Eleven minutes after I’d left his locker, he and I were both completely naked, and I was gorging my face with rock•hard pre•cum•oozing 16•year•old uncut jock•cock. In the intervening minute, besides stripping and watching him strip, I had sucked both of his hard nipples, buried my face in his freshly•showered, but un•deoderized, left arm•pit, inhaling his lingering pre•shower jock•musk, explored his perfect teeth for non•existent cavities with my tongue, slipped my hand between the cheeks of his firm, lean ass, with one fingertip pressing hard and insistently against his puckered, tight asshole, and licked some of his sticky, fir•scented pre•cum off his foreskin. Twelve minutes after I’d left his locker, Max had wrested his boner out of my mouth so that he could get to my cock, and he had pushed me back onto my desk and was deep•throating me...

...I relaxed and enjoyed it, my fingers running through his long, wild hair, occasionally straying back to his ass•crack, but I was still hungry for his young (but so mature) cock. We ended up on the cramped floor of my office, engaging in fairly aggressive 69, both of us trying to stifle our separate desires to each fuck the other first, finally agreeing, presumably with words I don’t remember speaking, that we were going to suck each other’s cocks until one of us blew his load in the other’s mouth, and then we’d move to the shower where the one who hadn’t nutted yet would top the one who had, and then we’d flip.

I cheated, finding Landen’s personal lube (overlooked that morning by Mitchell) under a shirt, and I’d stuck a slippery finger into Max’s rectum, found his prostate and massaged the fuck out of it while providing maximum pressure on the swollen head of his cock with my mouth. It had been a close call, but Max had gagged me with his fulsome ejaculation, his semen salty and vaguely metallic, with a hint of evergreen, before I could gag him with mine, and before I knew it he was dragging me by the hand through the locker•room to the showers for me to fuck him, so he could then, finally, fuck me.

I cheated again in the showers, allowing my near•orgasm to subside so that I could fuck Max for as long as possible, by pushing him against the shower•room wall and burying my face in his heavenly crack, eating his ass with gusto until he was beating on the wall for me to stop rimming him and start fucking him. Then we fucked like wild, rutting beasts.🏈

🏈🏈🏈.

All episodes of ‘The Transfer Jock,’ #s 1 - 91, WERE also available in reverse chronological order at the top of:

http://jacks-new-dick-2.tumblr.com and

http://the-transfer-jock.tumblr.com.

Unfortunately, 15 scattered episodes have since been blocked by Tumblr. The missing episodes (of which this is one) are being restored.

[jacks-new-dick-2]

The Transfer Jock, #45

⚾️⚾️⚾️.

“Aw, guys, don’t look so forlorn,” Finn had said, draping an arm around Jeff and Mitchell’s shoulders as they walked slowly up the hill from the practice field, “we’re all friends here. Tell you what, you tell me honestly what really prompted the unexpected pleasure of Mitchell’s invitation to drop by today’s practice, and I’ll share some honest, juicy shit about myself. I’ve got a little problem, one I can solve, but I have a feeling you very organized homos could come up with a better, less painful, solution a lot sooner than I could. Say, you guys really are into group shit, right? Because I was thinking that might be a fuck•load of fun tonight.” [[#43]]

⚾️⚾️⚾️.

“So, time for honesty now, about Coach?” Finn asked. The three of them were sitting on a bench outside the field house as dusk was falling. They were the last ones on the grounds.

“Jeff and I are fucking Coach,” Mitchell said, getting straight to the point, “and he’s had a couple of encounters with other guys in the group you met, a couple more scheduled for tomorrow. Two guys, that straight kid Max and the big guy Sam, aren’t involved at all, although Sam is queer. We’re trying to arrange a train of six jocks to gang•bang Coach on Sunday night, and Coach is fully on board. Sam’s out, Max doesn’t count, so we only have five probable tops, Jeff, me, Dewey, Alex and Landen. Understand, though, none of those guys know exactly what we’re up to, but they’ve expressed - or demonstrated - enough interest that we’re confident they’ll play. So I suggested you as the possible sixth, and Coach knew who you were from watching a few games in the spring, and, well, to put it mildly, Coach now has a major hard•on for you—”

“I’d call it more like a raging fucking boner,” Jeff interrupted, “and it’s not because baseball’s his favorite sport, because it’s not.” “Anyway,” Mitchell continued, I asked you to come over so we could see if you’d be interested, and so Jeff could check you out.”

“AND sample the merchandise,” Jeff chimed in, “so to answer your earlier question, yeah, we are into group shit. I had been thinking earlier about an introductory three•way - one that features your cock up my ass - while Mitchell and I kind of felt you out about Coach...but since we don’t have to sell you on fucking ‘the old guy,’ I could see going straight to a four•way...”

“This really isn’t a trick question, is it?” Finn asked after thinking it over a minute. “It just seems like one, I think...” “Dude, if you mean, ‘Is this shit too good to be true?’” Jeff said, “then, yeah, it probably sounds like that, but it’s not, because it’s true, see?”

“Finn, we were going to tell you every bit of it,” Mitchell weighed in, “only in stages...mostly because, despite the fact that Jeff and me are basically living with him and we both fucking worship him, Coach has this crazy idea that guys our age don’t want to fuck guys his age, so he wanted us to be extra careful in our approach to you.”

“That’s fucked up,” Finn agreed, “I mean, you turned me on to the wonders of fucking older dudes months ago, Mitchell, and I don’t mean just for the cash they almost always drop on you. Granted, some of those fuckers are better than others, but overall they know so much more than we do. Too valuable a resource not to fuck when they occasionally and understandably need a stiffer dick in their fuck•holes.”

“Right?” Jeff said. “Like Coach has a magic fucking wand...between his legs...he waved that shit and turned me from a top into a top who craves getting fucked in the ass - which could definitely work to your benefit, or Dewey’s if you dither around too long. And then, abracadabra, last night Coach fucks super•top, robo•fuck Mitchell here in his tight pink hole for like an hour, maybe more, I’m not shitting you, I was there, with my nose and tongue right where the no•rubber met the road, and I don’t know if Mitchell’s gonna go full•bottom now or not because we haven’t had a chance to talk privately yet, but I can tell you, based on the couple of times that Mitchell has topped me since Coach worked his magic on him, that that amazing ass•fucking for sure turned Mitchell into the second•best top who ever fucked me, the first being Coach.”

“Do you guys fuck like all the time?” Finn asked, laughing.

“This week we are,” Jeff said, “next week, I hope we all still are, but Coach swears he’s going out in a blaze of glory Sunday night and then he’s going to stop breaking the law by fucking students and minors. Mitchell and I are going to keep fucking, though, probably even more if Coach really dumps us, which I personally don’t think is going to happen, and, while I’m speaking solely for myself, and subject to your proving you can actually get it up, you’d be welcome to join our little fuck circle...plus I’d really like to start working out with you ‘cause you’ve got killer definition, dude.”

“Finn, it was from being with Coach,” Mitchell said, “that I knew I could call you and tell you I wanted you to fuck me, and really mean it.” “And I’m willing to throw me in,” Jeff added, “up until the time that you start making me think Dewey’s a better bet.” “Jeff, are you trying to tell me something?” Finn asked, laughing. “Yeah,” Jeff said, laughing, “that I’ve got Dewey’s big black cock on speed dial.”

“Don’t use that yet. I want to see if either of you can help me solve my small personal problem,” Finn said. “I assume Mitchell told you, Jeff, that last spring I wouldn’t consider taking a cock up my ass, that I only wanted to top him. That was like four months ago...and there are a lot of reasons, nothing significant or unique, just a typical 18•year•old homo coming to a deci—”

“You? A homo?” Jeff asked. “I thought you were bi, or at least that you actually enjoyed fucking girls, in contrast to, say, a stud like me who only tolerates fucking the occasional chick to throw the homophobes off my scent. So which is it? Would you rather fuck me in the ass or some cheerleader pussy?”

“You see who I’m with right now, don’t you?” Finn replied. “I’d rather fuck you in the ass, Jeff, any day. But what I’d really rather do is get fucked in MY ass for the first time by somebody I like and trust. What I was trying to say a minute ago about an18•year•old homo coming to a decision or, really, two decisions, that I guess all homos have to make - No. 1, Am I really a homo? and No. 2, Now that I’m cool with admitting that, yeah, I really am a fucking homo, am I man enough to at least find out if my overwhelming attraction to penis includes having penises up my ass and not just down my throat? And I’m ready to answer that second question, like, if not tonight, which I’d prefer, then for sure this weekend.”

“So what’s the problem?” Jeff asked. “I’m 100% sure Mitchell and I both have penises accustomed to fucking hot jock•ass.” “I want both of you guys to fuck me,” Finn replied, “but I’ve never had more than one finger up my very tight asshole, and I’m flat•out scared. I drove you away, Mitchell, because I was terrified of what I knew I wanted, you fucking me. From what I felt of Jeff’s big bulge, I think I’d be just as afraid of his dick. Don’t you guys have a queer friend with a little dick? To kind of transition me from him to you?” “Not really,” Jeff said. “From what I’ve heard, Alex is about average+ hard, but thick, and neither of us have been with him yet...”

“No brainer, Coach should fuck you first,” Mitchell said, “if you really want to lose your cherry this weekend, and you sure sound like you do.” “Coach has a little dick?” Finn asked facetiously. “Fuck no he doesn’t, but he does have a magic wand, bro,” Jeff said. “Now can I see your dick, because I already know I love the rest of you.”

“This guy’s a fucking trip, Mitchell,” Finn said, laughing. “No wonder you’re into him.” To Jeff he said, “Sure, dude, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” But Finn wasn’t waiting for an answer. He just stood up and dropped his running shorts. “Holy fuck, Mitchell,” Jeff said in awe of Finn’s cock, “all you had to say was ‘gorgeous beer•can•cock.’ THAT I would’ve understood a whole lot better than your verbal flow•chart comparing Finn to like 18 different guys, hard and soft.” Jeff stood up and dropped his shorts and jock. “Ta•dah!”

“Oh fuck, yes I do want you,” Finn whispered, equally in lust for Jeff’s exceptional cock. “I fucking love the way you smell, bro...and taste,” Jeff said to Finn, pressing himself against the first baseman and nuzzling his neck, taking Finn’s big soft uncut cock into his hand, then pulling it and mashing it playfully. “Look, it’s Gumby•dick!”

“C’mon you hot fuckers, not out here. Let’s go inside,” Mitchell insisted, “before I get caught masturbating on the sidewalk. You can do whatever you want in the locker•room.” Mitchell wasn’t exactly jacking off, not yet, but his hand was in•motion down his shorts, and he was obviously hard. “That’s true,” Jeff said to Finn, “he’s got a key. You can fuck me in the shower, like right now, then we’ll get your problem properly solved.” Finn quickly ducked down to slurp in a mouthful of Jeff’s more•than•a•mouthful swelling cock. “Fucking watermelon🍉dick,” Finn observed as they both hurriedly - and temporarily - pulled up their shorts.

Mitchell unlocked the field house, and the three of them stripped naked as soon as they were inside, their clothes and shoes left in a jumbled pile by the door, each of them reveling in the beauty of the other two. “Showers, comma, ass•fucking,” Jeff insisted and grabbed Finn’s fat, growing, gorgeous beer•can•cock, pulling him along through the locker•room to the showers. Finn in turn grabbed Mitchell’s giant ginger boner and pulled him along.⚾️

⚾️⚾️⚾️.

All episodes of ‘The Transfer Jock,’ #s 1 - 91, WERE also available in reverse chronological order at the top of:

http://jacks-new-dick-2.tumblr.com and

http://the-transfer-jock.tumblr.com.

Unfortunately, 15 scattered episodes have since been blocked by Tumblr. The missing episodes (of which this is one) are being restore.

[jacks-new-dick-2]

The Transfer Jock, #46

🏈⚾️🏈.

Mitchell unlocked the field house, and he and the two transfer•jocks stripped naked as soon as they were inside, their sweat•drenched shorts, shirts, jockstraps, cleats and running shoes left in a jumbled pile by the door, each of them reveling in the beauty of the other two. “Showers, comma, ass•fucking,” Jeff insisted and grabbed Finn’s fat, gorgeous and still•growing beer•can•cock, pulling him along through the locker•room to the showers. Finn in turn grabbed Mitchell’s giant ginger boner and pulled him after him.

🏈⚾️🏈.

The locker•room was dark but the light in the shower•room was on, and provided more than enough light by which to make their way. The fact that the shower room was lit up wasn’t unusual; one of the rooms in the complex was usually left illuminated. What was unusual, they discovered as they drew nearer, was the sound of running water and, as they got closer still, the unmistakable, though muffled, sounds of fucking, almost certainly of two guys fucking.

The three well•hung jocks, each already in some state of arousal, stood quietly in the doorway to the shower•room watching the sizzling hot scene in front of them. One of the guys was lying on his back on the floor under the falling water, legs slightly crouched, his feet toward them, the second guy, his back to them, energetically riding his partner’s thick cock, cowboy•style, riding high up the shaft and thrusting his ass down hard, all the way down to his partner’s big bouncing ball•sack, with remarkable rapidity and dexterity, the guy on top (the bottom) was leaning forward, his hands planted on the floor somewhere out of the voyeurs’ line of sight, and he was repeatedly pumping his very fine (if lean) ass down onto an impressive cock, a cock which two of the three watchers eventually (but not immediately) recognized.

“Hey...those are Coach’s balls...” Jeff said in a barely audible whisper. “But who’s that hot fucker on top of him?” Mitchell whispered just as quietly. “I dunno, but I sure hope Coach brings him home to us,” Jeff replied. “Should we go?” Finn whispered. “Unh unh,” Mitchell replied, “Coach won’t mind...besides this is almost over.” By that point the fucking had become even more frenzied, the bottom•on•top slamming down harder and faster and Coach thrusting up powerfully to meet his down•stroke. “Is...is that the kid you said was straight?” Finn asked. “His hair looks kinda...” “Could be...maybe...” Jeff and Mitchell answered together, both wondering, if that were the case, how they could have possibly had such a massive intel failure...and what the fuck was Coach doing fucking a known 16•year•old???

There was a loud roar from the top•on•bottom, followed by Coach’s voice shouting as he blew (or began to blow) his cork, “Oh fuck yes! Fuck yes!”

The guy on top of Coach continued pounding his ass down onto Coach’s cock throughout Coach’s orgasm, “Fuck me, MAX! Fuck me!’ until Coach lay spent on the floor. Max’s ass swallowed Coach’s cock one last time, and Max finally, thankfully (to Jeff and Mitchell) stopped, then leaned forward and joined his mouth to Coach’s. “Yeah, that’s Max, alright,” Jeff whispered helpfully. “He sure does look straight,” Finn replied - and, oops, they all laughed out loud.

“Who’s there?” Coach asked from underneath the back•up QB. He didn’t yell or sound startled or angry, just a calm voice asking a reasonable question. “Uh, sorry, Coach,” Jeff replied, “it’s just us, it’s safe.” Coach whispered something in Max’s ear, and Max shook his head, then started to push himself up off of Coach’s unsheathed cock. (As Jeff learned later that night, Coach, ever the gentleman, had been offering to dismiss the three upperclassmen so as to preserve the sophomore’s (already blown) anonymity).

“OK guys,” Coach said, “hang on, we’re getting up...and then Max is going to nail me to the wall. Max offered Coach a hand and pulled him cleanly to his feet, then turned around to face the voyeur•jocks for the first time. Their arousal complete, all three were rock•hard, and two of them (alas, not Mitchell) were leaking pre•cum. Max had almost every inch of the cock Jeff and Finn (but not of Mitchell, of course) had, thick and uncut, and he was just as hard as the three of them. Jeff was seeing Max as if for the first time, though of course he wasn’t. He was just seeing him nude for the first time. Maybe it was his grown•up, boned•up dick that made Max suddenly look so rugged and mature...not to mention fuckable. And that scruff on his face...when had he grown that?? Whatever it was, Jeff was seeing Max not as some “cute” kid but as a peer...and more than that...as definite boyfriend•material.

“Fuck, sophomore dude,” Jeff said, stretching out his arms, “come to Papa.” Max looked at Coach, presumably for permission, Coach nodded and Max walked across the shower•room floor to Jeff, who took a step or two to meet him. The sophomore, not the senior, took the initiative, taking their massive erect cocks into his two•handed grasp, stroking them slowly together. “Aw, man, why didn’t you tell me you’re a fucking homo?” Jeff asked, thinking of the three+ ‘wasted’ weeks of the intimate companionship the two of them could’ve been enjoying.

Jeff was also calculating, conducting a rapid•fire mental inventory: Had he treated the sophomore like shit during camp like most of the upperclassmen routinely treated the newbies? No, he had not. As a different kind of newbie himself, the transfer•jock had been empathetic, even friendly, to this kid, and complimentary of the tight spirals he’d thrown to him on the few occasions the first and second/third teams had taken snaps together. Jeff was satisfied that he hadn’t been a complete asshole to Max, but was nevertheless disconsolate that he’d failed miserably in identifying the available talent in the locker•room. Coach, though, that fucking goat, had sniffed out this exceptional talent himself...he obviously didn’t need Jeff or Mitchell to bring home their kills to him.

Max laughed, shaking his head. He was as tall as Jeff, with more facial hair and body hair, and almost as much penis, which was way more than enough. “Because you’re a senior and I’m a sophomore,” he replied, “because I didn’t really believe you were a fucking homo, too, even though every time I backed•up the QB, if you know what I mean, he’d tell me about you having just fucked him again...but, I don’t know why, I didn’t really believe him, because you could have anybody you wanted, I guess, and until I saw you and Dewey kissing in the parking lot last night and then...you know...I wasn’t sure—”

“So you just went after the fucking Coach?” Jeff asked, laughing. “Ballsy, dude.”

“Not until he gave me the same kind of attention I’d seen him giving you, Dewey and Landen this week,” Max said. “And you’ll understand, I think, that me going after Coach, who happens to be hot•as•fuck, was a helluva lot safer play for me, for a lot of reasons, than going after an upperclassman stud like you or Mitchell or Dewey, and having gotten shot down, either for having been wrong, or having been right but still rejected.”

“Yeah I do,” Jeff said. Teenagers were relentless in their scorn and meanness, while Coach, or probably most adults, would’ve gently deflected a misguided or unwanted pass from a kid, and then pretended like it had never happened. “So here’s my deal, and everyone in this room might deny the part I’m about to say about them, but Coach and I are in love, sort of, you know, at least for the next couple of days; Mitchell and I are best•friends•with•benefits; Finn, this fucking hunk, I just met when you met him, so I don’t think Finn’s going to deny that. But I’m promoting Mitchell, and I hope vice•versa, to boyfriend, and Finn’s going to be my new best•friend•with•benefits. So I’d like for you to be my protege, if you’re interested. I think I need a protege like you.”

“What does that entail?” Max asked warily, but very much interested in the offer. “Nothing, whatever you want to make of it,” Jeff replied, laughing. “You can keep doing whoever you’ve been doing, or do these guys or whoever else you find. But the benefits are substantial: No. 1, you’ve got a claim on my cock or asshole anytime I’m not engaged with anyone else in this room; and No. 2, I’ll have your back and be your wing•man for the rest of my life, or at least until I graduate, whether you’re taking advantage of No. 1 or not. Oh, there is one requirement...you’re going to have to fuck me, once at least, at a time of your choosing, the same way you just fucked Coach.”

“I accept,” Max said, and kissed Jeff like you’d expect a new protege would kiss his new ‘mentor,’ all tongue. When they’d finally managed to break apart from each other, which had been difficult, Jeff had dropped quickly to one knee and filled his mouth with (some of) Max’s hard beer•can•cock. Just as quickly he was back on his feet, whispering in Max’s ear, “I’m going to need to finish that blowjob as soon as possible, too.”

“Bravo,” Coach said, “now as I was saying, Max is about to nail me to the wall, and then he’ll be free to assume his extensive new protege duties.” Coach was already bracing against the wall and opening his stance, past ready to have Max’s rock•hard 16•year•old beer•can•cock all the way up his ass. “What a coincidence,” Jeff said, “Finn was just about to nail me to the wall, too. You guys don’t mind if we fuck right next to you, do you?”

“Of course not,” Coach said. “You know I like to watch almost as much as you do.” “What’s Mitchell going to do while the rest of us fuck?” Max asked, concerned that the horse•dicked manager was getting left out.

“I’m going to sit against the wall,” Mitchell replied, “and suck Jeff’s watermelon🍉dick while Finn hammers it into my mouth, happily masturbating the whole time.”

“Very cool,” Max acknowledged, “so it sounds like you’re covered, but if you decide to edge instead of nutting out, feel free, please, to finish in me after I finish in Coach.”

“I think you can count on that, Max,” Mitchell said, “barring any unfortunate miscalculation on my part. Thanks.”

🏈⚾️🏈.

“...umph...Coach...” Jeff said as Finn drove his thick cock through Jeff’s sphincter and into his rectum, “we have...umph...a special favor...to ask of you...for Finn...later tonight...ugh...” Finn and Jeff were a minute or so behind Max and Coach because Jeff had insisted on watching Max penetrate his partner first, Jeff standing right beside Max with his arm around his waist, watching mesmerized as his protege’s sausage disappeared between Coach’s buns. Before Jeff had braced against the wall to receive Finn’s remarkably similar beer•can•cock, he kissed Max again hungrily, then whispered almost•silently into his ear, “I want you...desperately,” leaving the kid grinning from ear•to•ear and, suddenly, wanting the senior tight•end just as desperately, maybe moreso.

“Bring Finn over...after...you kids...are through...playing...here...” Coach grunted between every one of Max’s power•thrusts. His face and Jeff’s were less than a couple of feet away from each other’s, and they were looking into each other’s eyes throughout their double•ass•hammering. “This shit is good,” Jeff said to Coach as Finn hammered away at him, “and you, you sly fucking dog...what a fucking talent scout you turned out to be...”

“Yes it is,” Coach agreed, winking at his transfer tight•end, as Max continued emphatically nailing him to the wall. “Oh, fuck yeah, Finn!” Jeff yelped, “Queer me more...just like that!”

During a much•needed pause to delay orgasm coincidentally shared by the strapping first baseman and the sophomore back•up QB, the two beer•can•cocked tops shared a spirited high•five. They’d both been watching the other top fuck another guy whom they were eager to sample. For that matter, both tops were eager to sample each other as well. As a sweaty, panting Finn observed to a sweaty, panting Max, “This shit IS good...”

“Yes it fucking is,” Max agreed, and then suggested casually, as if he weren’t already beginning to feel that his need for Jeff was akin to his need for oxygen, “Hey, why don’t we swap?” To which Finn had replied, “That’s why they call me the Transfer Jock!” and Jeff and Coach had cried in unison, “Fuck yeah!”

And so Jeff’s beer•can•cocked new best•friend•with•benefits unplugged his thick plug from Jeff and plugged into Coach for the very first (and not the last) time, as Jeff’s new beer•can•cocked protege unplugged his thick plug from Coach and plugged into Jeff with a rapidly•growing desire for the very first (and not nearly for the last) time. To his new ‘boyfriend,’ Jeff advised, “Mitchell, dude, you’re fucking killing it...be ready to swallow...in a minute...or two...OH FUCK ME MAX!” he shouted as his beer•can•cocked protege entered him emphatically with his somewhat thicker beer•can and resumed precisely where Jeff’s beer•can•cocked best•friend had left off, but with a slightly more...nuanced or polished approach than one usually found in a 16•year•old. Which is to say, that fucking sophomore could really fuck...but not for that much longer on that particular occasion...though more than long enough to leave a lasting electric glow in Jeff’s fuck•tunnel...or heart...or somewhere. Nor, as it turned out, could the blond beer•can•cocked top last much longer.

From the sound of Finn’s concluding outburst, Jeff regretted not seeing his new best•friend’s triumphant climax, but his pangs of regret were shortly assuaged by the swelling of his new protege’s already•swollen•enough beer•can•boner, instantly followed by the protege’s own tremendous explosion deep inside him at almost the same time that his swollen member itself exploded, flooding his new boyfriend’s mouth and throat with gobs of his thick, creamy cum. After certain disentanglements, his new boyfriend, a known (and contented) masturbator, budding cock•artist and future power•bottom, managed to hold his edge just long enough to bury all ten+ inches of his giant ginger cock in Max’s velvety sophomoric rectum, the burying of which cock Jeff had watched close•up, with something like angst or envy (though not wishing to deprive Mitchell of his pleasure), and the early (but understandable) discharge of which had left the young but talented protege wanting more upperclassman penis inside him, namely his new mentor’s.

Coach had disappeared right after Finn had unplugged his thick white•blond plug from his doubly•well•fucked ass, but as he’d been leaving, he asked his lover’s ginger boyfriend to lockup when they were done, and to bring Finn and Max with them when he and Jeff came back to his house. Oh, and he was ordering pizza for his very talented ‘team.’🏈

🏈⚾️🏈.

All episodes of ‘The Transfer Jock,’ #s 1 - 91, WERE also available in reverse chronological order at the top of:

http://jacks-new-dick-2.tumblr.com and

http://the-transfer-jock.tumblr.com.

Unfortunately, 15 scattered episodes have since been blocked by Tumblr. The missing episodes (of which this is one) are being restored.

[jacks-new-dick-2]

The Transfer Jock, #52

🏈🏈🏈.

Team

Killer Rimming

Let Max Decide🍉.

“C’mon, Max, making a decision isn’t nearly as hard as your dick,” Jeff had pleaded. “Just tell me what you want to do.”

“I want you to fuck me like a wild beast with your big, fat watermelon🍉dick,” Max said at last, “but rim me first...and if you’d rather that I play the beast, I’ll ride your cock like I rode Coach’s, like I promised I’d do when you made me your protege.”

“That,” Jeff said decisively - and Max had rolled over eagerly, presenting his lean, hairy ass to to his mentor, with Dewey and Mitchell watching from across the pool.

🏈🏈🏈.

Max wasn’t completely new to rimming, but his experience in that category of things that well•rounded homos did with each other was much more limited than in most of the other categories he’d tried. Rimming just wasn’t something that most high school guys knew or cared about. Even Landen, who was as in touch with his own asshole as anyone Max knew, had been completely disinterested in rimming, presumably because Max couldn’t lick Landen’s asshole and drive his cock through it at the same time - not that Max had particularly wanted to rim Landen. He had offered, though, before he’d quit fucking Landen.

Almost all of Max’s experience with rimming had been with his two older half•brothers, hunky identical twins, who had brought that new trick home with them from college last Christmas break. The twins had also been the ones who’d first taught him how to suck cock and then how to fuck, first as a bottom and then as a top, though they had not provided him with his first, mostly masturbatory, homosexual experiences. Nor had his older half•brothers sought him out as their personal cock•socket, to Max’s adolescent chagrin. Instead, Max had had to seek out their cocks and demand that his brothers use them to fill his empty sockets.

Max had known that he was queer to his core since at least puberty, which had come relatively early to him, at age 12, and he’d been jacking off his buddies (and vice•versa) almost since he’d started masturbating alone. By 13, he’d figured out that his stud 16•year•old half•brothers were queer•as•fuck and doing together some of the more advanced shit that he was keenly interested in trying, but which was still a bridge too far for his youthful j/o buds. He’d looked for his opportunity and then, just shy of his 14th birthday, Max had ‘caught’ the twins, then 17, giving each other head late one night when he’d picked the simple household lock on their bedroom door and burst in on them wearing only a (bulging) towel around his waist, demanding that he be allowed to participate.

Max had always been a big kid for his age, and he was already as tall as the twins, though not as heavy, which is simply to say that he didn’t look much different to the twins from their other 16 and 17•year•old sex partners. Until he’d dropped that towel. Then he’d looked different. Max’s cock, which was considerably bigger than the twins’ own ample and nearly identical units (and those of their other 16 and 17•year•old sex partners), had been the decisive factor in their decision to take turns sucking their kid brother’s huge cock until he’d ejaculated spectacularly all over their happy, smiling faces, and then under their careful tutelage, he’d given his first two blow•jobs to the twins.

That cum•drenched night had not been a stand•alone event in the brothers’ evolving relationship; rather almost every night (and many of the afternoons that Max didn’t have football practice) that followed for several months played out along similar lines with similar results, with the exceptions that (1) Max was an eagerly welcomed participant, no longer required to break•in and demand his share, and (2) often on weekends one or another of the twins’ queer friends would spend the night and exchange blowjobs with the well•hung kid brother as well as with the twins.

Within a few months of Max’s first blowjob the twins had started fucking each other, too, although that fact had not been disclosed to Max. When the older brothers fucked, they would usually flip after Max had left their room and gone to sleep, or sometimes one would fuck the other in the shower in the morning before school. The twins excluded Max from the extra benefits they were enjoying only because of his tender age, and not because they didn’t want to fuck Max in his already fine, lean and increasingly hairy ass. One twin in particular looked forward to fucking that ass at the appropriate time; the other often fantasized that it was Max’s horse•dick plowing him while he was getting plowed by his twin.

Max eventually found out what was going on behind his back one morning when he’d urgently had to take a dump and the twins had forgotten to lock the bathroom door before showering together. Max had assumed that only one of the twins was in the shower and the other was either still in bed or had already gone downstairs, until he’d realized that the sounds he heard coming from the shower while he sat on the toilet were caused by more than just running water. He’d yanked the shower curtain back and watched (to the twins’ horror) one of his older brothers driving his cock into his other older brother’s asshole; so very close to orgasm, that morning’s top had made the reasonable decision to get in three more rapid thrusts and blow his load in his twin’s ass, despite Max’s intrusion, rather than stop fucking his brother and blow his load in his hand.

Max was incredibly aroused by that scene, and then incredibly hurt that he’d been left out, and finally had gotten angry for having been left out, all in the span of a couple of minutes. At the time, the twins had only gotten angry, but a difference of opinion soon developed between the two older brothers as to how long, exactly, they ought to wait before they fucked a ‘little’ brother who by then was both taller and heavier than they were, and who had a killer cock bigger than either of theirs, which Max was no longer allowing them to suck since they wouldn’t introduce him to brother•fucking.

The twin who strongly preferred the role of bottom probably would have let Max fuck him in the shower by the next morning; the twin who strongly preferred the top role was initially adamant that they shouldn’t fuck their younger half•brother before he turned 15, an arbitrary date then several months away. When the twins’ sleepover friends learned that sleepovers no longer included access to the well•hung little brother, some of them began to trade blowjobs directly with Max, without going through his ‘prudish’ older brothers.

The twins knew it was just a matter of time, and likely not very much time, before those ‘friends’ were fucking and getting fucked by Max, and they were left with no one to fuck but themselves, a point repeatedly driven home to them by their fiery little brother, who had begun to respond to everything either twin said to him (outside the presence of their parents) with ‘Go fuck yourselves,’ and when the twins had stopped addressing Max at all, given the sheer futility of it, Max had begun greeting them with ‘Go fuck yourselves.’

Something plainly had to give, and it became clear to the twins that the only something that was going to give was going to be them. And give they did, at last welcoming their little brother into their bed(s), with the strange proviso that they would fuck Max in the ass, pretty much whenever he wanted, but they wouldn’t let him top them until he was 15, another arbitrary decision likely originating with the top•twin. Those circumstances persisted for almost an entire week before Max was secretly topping the bottom•twin on the side, usually in the shower or in Max’s bed. When the top•twin discovered that he was being cuckolded, he got with the program and bent•over for Max the first time a few months before Max’s 15th birthday.

The three brothers had quickly restored fraternal harmony on the second floor of the family home, which was thereafter awash in semen as Max’s education proceeded apace. Max loved (and still loves) his half•brothers, and he learned a lot from them, but he wasn’t the only one learning. Two of the things the twins had learned about their little bro was that Max was a fuck•ton more stubborn than they’d already known he was, and, fortunately for the top•twin, that Max didn’t hold grudges over the exercise of poor judgment by teen•agers. A third thing the twins gradually came to understand sometime after Max had learned the basic ins•and•outs of ass•fucking, was that their kid brother, who was also developing into a very fine middle•school quarterback, had somehow become the undisputed alpha on the second floor of the family home.

🏈🏈🏈.

Besides rimming and being rimmed by his half•brothers, Max’s only other rimming experience had been Coach eating his ass that evening in the shower•room, and that had been an altogether different experience from anything he and the twins had ever even imagined. Basically, he and his brothers had licked each other’s cracks a few times and, finally, each other’s assholes, which had not sucked, but with Coach he’d had the sensation not quite of having been fucked by a tongue, but not that far from that, either, more like being teased an inch or so inside his asshole with a super•supple and super•wet dick...but really it was like nothing else he’d ever experienced.

When Jeff rimmed him by Coach’s pool later that same Friday night, it had very definitely been like something he had experienced before, in fact, very like what he’d experienced in the shower•room just a few hours earlier, and nothing like one of the twins diffidently licking his asshole for a minute or so. He wasn’t consciously comparing Coach and Jeff at the time - what he’d been thinking (without using the L•word) was that the hottest fucking guy he’d ever met was loving (he couldn’t think about Jeff’s tongue burrowing into and rotating in his anal canal without using the L•word) him in the most selfless and intimate way imaginable.

Had Max made such a comparison, later and dispassionately, he likely would have concluded that Coach had been more technically proficient, though not by that much, but that Jeff had carried the night on intangibles, by simply being who he was (and other factors related to the L•word). For his part, Jeff had thought about nothing other than consuming as much of Max as he possibly could, in whatever way he could. Had he been asked about those few minutes the next day, he might well have not initially remembered that he’d rimmed Max, and certainly not exquisitely, possibly he would have recalled only that in consuming Max he had been consumed by him.

“One thing about fucking like we’re about to fuck,” Max had observed while lovingly lubing Jeff’s rock•hard 18•year•old cock (and after finally removing his sweat•and•cum•soaked shirt), “is that neither one us can last very long, and you...OK, two things...and that you really have no control over what I promise you is going to be an incredible orgasm...you’re going to cum pretty quickly, and we’re both going to be glad you did. So don’t even try to resist it, just enjoy it.” Jeff reached up and touched Max’s face gently, really just brushing the backs of his fingers down Max’s cheek. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to.

“The other thing is that it’s going to make me rock•hard—” “You already are,” Jeff interrupted, laughing and grabbing Max’s boner.

“Busted,” Max agreed, also laughing. “But if I weren’t already, it would. I’m just saying that the reason I’m lubing your hole now - lift your legs a little - is that as soon as my ass has wrung out the last drop of cum from your big fat watermelon🍉dick, I’m climbing off of your cock and then back on top of you and fucking you as hard as I can with my beer•can•cock for not very long, either. And then we’re going to eat a slice of pizza to keep our strength up and settle into some long, very satisfying fucking. That, and I’m not waiting for you to make another fucking decision about anything, at least not tonight, because for such an über•alpha•beast, Jeff, you surprisingly suck at decision•making. Now, have you got anything to say that’s extremely important?”

“Kiss me, you fabulous he•devil,” Jeff replied, grinning lasciviously (his very good look), “before you fuck me to death.” After Max had hungrily complied with Jeff’s request and was positioning himself over Jeff, Jeff had lolled his head to the left and happened to see, across the pool - he couldn’t have missed it because they were under the lights - two guys fucking doggy•style on a pool•side lounge, in what seemed like slow•motion but wasn’t, the smaller pink•white guy on top of/behind the larger milk•chocolate guy, endlessly drawing out inch after inch of the biggest, pinkest cock he’d ever seen (in person), eight or nine inches fully outside that milk•chocolate ass before the process reversed itself until every inch of that huge pink cock was lost to sight, buried to its hilt in that sweet milk•chocolate ass...

Max followed his gaze and said quietly, “That’s beautiful...I love to get fucked like that, too.” ‘Noted,’ Jeff thought, and then the he•devil began the short, violent but equally beautiful process of pumping every ounce of semen out of his (Jeff’s) balls with his (Max’s) incredibly fine, athletic ass...that extraordinary extraction had taken about as long as the he•devil had led him to expect, which was not very, but he never thought it had ended too soon, only that he’d had the most intensely powerful orgasm he’d ever experienced in his young life, eclipsing what he’d felt when Coach had ridden him the same way on the locker•room bench...

...and then he’d been vaguely, blissfully aware of pulling his legs back for the entry of that astonishing, feral, tender he•devil and being slowly, gently filled and refilled to capacity, filled in a way that nearly silenced the longing for cock echoing in his bowels, before being absolutely hammered, wonderfully hammered, as had been promised by the he•devil, hammered to the edge of oblivion. After the he•devil had collapsed on top of him in a shouting, heaving, sweat•drenched heap of orgasmic bliss, Jeff had burrowed his nose into one of Max’s sweaty, masculine armpits and had understood for the first time precisely why Coach did the same thing to him after every time he and Coached fucked...although in his fog he couldn’t quite articulate that reason. All he could do was hug Max to himself as tightly as he could, and inhale him again.

Off to his left, he heard splashing and laughter in the pool, and then Dewey’s voice asking, “So what’s the over/under on those two?” and Mitchell’s voice answering, “Eleven.” “What’s your position?” “Over.” “Think they’ll make it?” “He gets stronger the more he fucks...and will keep waking you up all night long to keep fucking you more, with you being glad to be re•awakened each time...and from what I’ve seen so far I’d say Max is cut from the same fucking cloth...so I think we set the O/U way too low...unless they fuck themselves to death...”

“Grrr,” Jeff growled in Max’s ear, and pulled him to his feet, noting the flexed bulge of the backup QB’s right bicep. “Very quick pizza break, stud,” Jeff said in between hungry kisses, “and then I’m going to fuck you like you need to be fucked.”

But before that, Max and Jeff made cannonballs out of themselves in order to bombard Mitchell and Dewey, and then hurled themselves into the pool. They were still teenagers, after all, even if they did (sometimes) fuck like grown•ass men.🏈

🏈🏈🏈.

All episodes of ‘The Transfer Jock,’ #s 1 - 91, WERE also available in reverse chronological order at the top of:

http://jacks-new-dick-2.tumblr.com and

http://the-transfer-jock.tumblr.com.

Unfortunately, 15 scattered episodes have since been blocked by Tumblr. The missing episodes (of which this is one) are being restored.