Copyright © 2006 Sticky Pen
“Oh, God, God. You aren’t giving me time to adjust, Professor. What’s the hurry?”“I . . . I have to finish you early this afternoon, Spiros,” I huffed. “I have a two o’clock appointment.” I had my Greek god of a graduate teaching assistant doubled over the arm of my sofa in my office, and I had plowed my way eight inches into his ass.“Ahh, ahhhhh!” he moaned. “At least let me spread my legs. Allow me to open up more. You are just too thick and long.”I had had his legs encased between mine, tightening up his ass to maximize the friction, and the palm of one hand buried in the middle of his lithe and sinewy back, pushing his chest down in the cushions of the sofa. But now I brought my own torso down, my nipples digging into his back muscles, and my hands snaking around him, one hand going to his nipples and the other to his flat, pulsating belly. I pushed his hips higher across the sofa arm, finding new depths with my throbbing cock.I leaned my lips close to his ear. “I thought you loved my thick, long cock,” I whispered. “I thought my eleven inches was what attracted you to applying to be my assistant.”“That’s right,” he gasped. “But you’ve always given me time to adjust before.”“Do you want me to stop, Spiros?” I asked. “I would never force you.”“No, I want it, Professor. But you’re splitting me. Please let me widen my legs.”“You …
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Monthly Archives: March 2006
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Copyright © 2006 Sticky Pen
I couldn’t believe it. Twenty-two years of driving and never an accident, but then on the way home from work I ran out of gas! Luckily it wasn’t long before a pickup truck slowed and stopped.
“Need help?” yelled the good-looking blonde in the passenger seat.
I was embarrassed, but nodded and said, “Yeah…I’m…uh…out of gas.”
He gave a small laugh and got out of the truck. “Hop in and we’ll take you to the gas station.”
I smiled and quickly accepted his offer. I climbed into the front seat and nodded to the dark-haired driver who said, “Happy to help you, man.” His buddy got in and we drove down the highway.
We hadn’t been driving long when I noticed the driver putting his hand down to his crotch. I looked away but saw that the blonde was doing the same thing, gently rubbing themselves until I could see the outline of their cocks through their jeans. I wasn’t gay, but I had sucked a few cocks in the past and suddenly found myself getting hard just watching them. Finally the driver said, “Wanna see more of this, man?”
I didn’t know what to say or do. Then he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock. It wasn’t completely hard, but it had to be at least seven thick inches with a big purple head. He stroked it until it was really hard. Then the other guy said, “How do you like this one?”
I turned and saw the biggest cock I had ever seen. It had to be over ten inches. Just then the truck slowed and turned down a dirt road into some overgrown bushes and scrub pines. The driver stopped and put the truck in park and then rose up so he could push down his jeans and briefs. The passenger did the same, and I was suddenly between two naked men with huge dicks. The driver put his arm around my shoulders a…
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Sqeezed Tight Part 1
Copyright © 2006 Sticky Pen
We were squeezed in close together in a booth in the shadows of the noisy, smoke-fogged bar. This wasn’t really my kind of place, but Chris had suggested it as a place to meet for our first look at each other. At least it was conveniently located in the same block as my office building. We had conversed for some time on a chat line and had become more explicit in maybe hooking up when we discovered we lived near the same city. I had honed in on him because he said he was in his early twenties and preferred more experienced men in their thirties who were still in good condition and were interested in topping younger men. That pretty much defined me. I got really interested when he said he’d been drawn to my profile because I had listed myself as nine inches. I had lied in that; I actually was nine and half inches, but if I’d told the truth few would have believed my claim. And then I was hooked when he revealed that he was mildly interested in bondage.
So, here we were, scoping each other out in person. He proved to be a lithe, but well-muscled and model-handsome blond with rather nervous mannerisms. He was wearing a designer T-shirt and low-slung worn jeans and looked very much the early twenties that he had claimed to be. I was wearing brown, casual pants, a close-fitting off-white dress shirt and a camel-tan jacket with leather elbows, and I could tell that he was pleased with what he saw when he was first guided to the table.
We engaged in small talk for a bit while we waited for a waiter, with me creeping ever closer to him along the vinyl bench. I was up close to him, with my arm around him and my fingers stroking one of his nipples through his shirt when he zeroed in on the question of whether I really was nine inches. When I told him the truth, I could feel him trembling under the palm of my hand. He expressed disbelief, and I gave him permission to find out himself, right then and there. His hand went to my fly below the table surface, and he lowered the zipper to my pants and rolled out my hose. I could hear the intake of breath and feel his tremors increase as he found out that I had told the truth.
The waiter appeared, a pert young man, short of stature, but very well built and with freckles and golden-red hair that would have hung to his shoulders if he didn’t have it tied up in a pony tail. He could tell in an instant what Chris and I had going on under the table top, but this was that kind of bar, so he just gave me a shy little grin as he took our orders. Chris ordered a domestic draft beer, and I ordered a martini.
As soon as the waiter disappeared, Chris sank under the table and had the head of my dick between his lips. He ran his tongue around my glans, at the rim and pushed at my piss hole with the tip of his tongue. After a bit of this, with my cock responding by beginning to harden, he took in about four inches of me and squeezed his mouth tight over my rod. It was time for me to show him what I expected. I wrapped my legs around his back tight and grabbed his head on both sides with my hands. I held him close there, guiding his mouth up and down, and ever deeper on my cock, which had sprung to life when I had taken control. This tight closeness was what I liked, what I responded to sexually.
The waiter returned with our drinks and didn’t seem at all surprised not to see Chris sitting beside me. I could tell he wasn’t fooled into thinking that Chris was off in the men’s room either. He took a little longer than normal in setting our drinks down and gave me that shy little smile again while I was busy face-fucking Chris under the table and trying to keep a straight face myself. The waiter turned and left, and I swear that I thought he twitched his bulbous butt at me while he walked off.
Despite some gurgling and gagging, Chris sucked me off quite expertly, licked my cock clean, and rolled my long dick back into my fly and zipped me back up before he reappeared at my side. He was grinning, and his eyes sparkled. He took a swig of beer and then turned to me. His hand went to my stomach, where he pulled my shirt up out of my pants and laid his palm gently on my flat belly. My arm went around his shoulders closely again and my fingers returned to tracing his now-very-erect nipple through his T-shirt.
“Man oh man, that was great,” he said. “You are all that your e-mails promised.”
“Is that it then?” I asked. “Have you had enough, or do you want all of that up your ass as well?”
“Yes, oh yes, please. I’ve taken it deep before. No problem.”
I wondered if he would think it had been no problem when I’d done to him what I planned to do.
“So, should we set a date for that?” I asked.
“Today. Now,” he responded, becoming all trembly, like an excitable thoroughbred racehorse. “Well, not right here, of course. But somewhere more convenient. One of the stalls in the men’s . . .”
“I prefer more privacy,” I said, moving my free hand to his basket and tracing his straining cock through his tight jeans. He moaned for me in appreciation at the attention. “And a form of . . . mild confinement. You’d indicated that appealed to you. Were you telling the truth about that?”
“Yes, oh yes,” Chris said, and he was licking his trembling lips with a sense of danger and excitement. My hand left his nipple and gently took the side of his head and guided his lips to mine. We kissed in something that started sweet and ended somewhat more brutal and insistent, with me asserting total control, my fingers digging into his hair and cheek, and him becoming submissive. He gasped when I freed his lips.
“My office has a transient apartment in a building on this block, and I have a key to it.” I said. “If you really are serious about moving this to a new level, we could be there within a few minutes.”
“Oh, yes, yes, please,” Chris, said in a gaspy voice. And then he grabbed his beer, downing it, and rose, ready to leave.
I threw more than enough money on the table top for the drinks and the tip and scooted out of the bench. Our waiter was leaning over a table whispering something in the ear of a patron as we passed him on our way out, and I copped a feel of his nice rounded ass. He looked up and gave me a sensuous grin and a laugh.
Chris was quiet as he walked down the block and into the lobby of one of the high-rise apartment buildings that was next to my office building. I could feel him trembling at my side though as the elevator rose into the clouds. As soon as we entered the apartment, I slammed the door behind us, flipped on the lights, and spun Chris around and against the wall next to the door. I shrugged my jacket off onto the floor and in one swift move, pulled his T up and off him and threw that in back of me as well. We kissed wildly, as we both struggled with belt buckles and zippers and pulling pants and briefs off. While I kissed and nipped my way down his neck and around his nipples, Chris unbuttoned my shirt. Before he could pull my shirt off my back, though, I slammed my chest and thighs against his, close. Close, like I liked it. I was more muscular than he was everywhere and had little trouble gaining control. We’d made quite clear in our e-mails that I was a top and he was a bottom. I pushed my cock between his thighs, right under his balls, and he opened the stance of his legs, thinking that was what I wanted, but I pulled in my legs close to the side of his and held his legs close together, with my cock held tightly between his legs. His cock, which rose up my belly between us, was engorging and bobbing back and forth, trying to…
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Sk8er Boi
Copyright © 2006 Sticky Pen
David Vaughn had been a “squeaky-clean” individual for as long as he could remember. From the moment he took his first steps and spoke his first words, to the present, he’d lived his life in a pretty straight direction… with partial “help” from his very strict upbringing. His parents were very protective of their first-born boy, and throughout his entire life, they’d managed to raise their son without worry of drugs, school ditching… or sex. Instead, David’s childhood and teenage days were spent studying, eating healthy, avoiding R-Rated movies, being classically trained on the piano, and just overall following the path his parents felt was the most “righteous.”
However, David was now 24 years old. A grown man had to break away from his parents’ hold at some point, and so he did. He now resided in an apartment, all the way on the other side of town, far away from his parent’s home. David loved his parents, but in this short time on his own so far, he’d realized his parents protected him from many things… some things even teenagers today as young as 15 knew that he didn’t know too well about. At one point, he even had a girlfriend. Though it didn’t last long. Not because he wasn’t a gentleman, and certainly not because he wasn’t attractive. But his beliefs and strict upbringing always got in the way of the relationship, and not once did the two ever get close enough to be “intimate.”
Now leading the single life again, David realized he needed to make some money. He already had a part-time job at a nearby Super Wal-Mart center, but he wanted a little more extra spending money for himself. And then the perfect idea hit him: Piano lessons. With the years of piano experience under his belt, along with his happy, patient, and innocent disposition, he thought he would make the perfect teacher for any age. So David soon began putting up ads and several flyers. Being a “beginner” himself in teaching, his prices were reasonably lower than most of the professional tutors in town. Though soon enough, he was getting some attention, and eventually had students with pianos at their homes that he would visit for each lesson.
His parents were so thrilled that their son would be sharing his talents with others. Every night when he would come home at precisely 7 in the evening, David would call his parents’ house just to tell them how each of his students were doing, and how “fulfilling” it felt.
Lately though, there was one house in particular he often enjoyed visiting- The Young family, a kind family who lived just a few miles from his apartment. Mr. and Mrs. Young were a very sweet couple, and the student was little Rebecca Young, an adorable child of 9 who seemed quite excited to be learning the piano. Mrs. Young also mentioned a son, though he was barely ever home for David to actually meet him. Though the reason he enjoyed it here so much was not because of Rebecca. Yes, she’d gained quite an aptitude for the piano, but often times, David’s attention was elsewhere in the Young’s neighborhood. Whenever David would drive into the community where the Young’s house resided, he noticed a park across the street from their house, and visible through the cathedral-style window right next to their piano, was a skate park within that park. Of course, David’s parents would’ve never allowed him to take up skateboarding as a hobby, though sometimes during Rebecca’s lessons, he found himself staring out the window observing the grungy, punk, “bad-asses” that would frequent the park.
One teenager seemed to catch his interest the most out of all of them. A teenager of about 18 or maybe older. Tall and slightly pale, jet black hair kept spiked up and back, with a line of facial hair running down the sides of his face and meeting at his chin to form a neatly kept goatee. He seemed to be the most popular of the group. Always dressed in black, pants or shorts, depending on the weather, yet whichever he wore, they’d always sag from his hips, exposing whatever boxers he wore underneath. His build was a bit on the thin side, though the black tank-tops and fitted rock band shirts he always wore made it obvious to anyone that happened to stare that he still knew how to take care of his body… evident from the outline of muscle along his body. After a few weeks of careful observation, it seemed everyone called the guy Jeff. David was first drawn to him on Rebecca’s second week of piano lessons when he heard a loud holler from the skate park. Everyone there seemed like a pack of wild dogs, though it was Jeff that seemed to be getting everyone riled up. The way that dirty mouth of his cursed, that cocky way he laughed, and how he seemed to attract girls by just placing his hands on their hips… David was very intrigued by his bad-ass attitude.
Though it wasn’t until the fourth week of Rebecca’s lessons when he stared outside, and noticed Jeff being his usual self. But this time, he peeled off that black wife beater he wore, exposing that thin, yet still toned body. David couldn’t help but feel his interest in Jeff rise a little more… and it seemed he was getting a “rise” elsewhere too. He felt a strain against his crotch region, some anxious bulge pushing hard against his pants. It was quite embarrassing, though staring back at Jeff’s half-naked form, David was feeling… aroused.
The weeks went on, and despite the fact that Rebecca was improving, David always found he was staring outside more than the sheet music, anxiously waiting to see what Jeff would be doing that day. He’d get his fill… sometimes he’d be shirtless again with those boxers so lewdly exposed, and sometimes he’d be clothed… though David always imagined seeing Jeff with the shirt off regardless, and that same arousing ache would re-occur in the crotch region in his pants. Yet he could do nothing about it, and often times his attention toward Jeff would be interrupted by the occasional sour note Rebecca would hit on the piano keys.
However, one week, David simply couldn’t hold it in any longer. Rebecca’s lesson had just finished, and the …
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Butt Munching Bears
Copyright © 2006 Sticky Pen
Ray and Andy were best friends and had been so since grade school. If you had seen a photograph of them when they were nineteen or twenty you would be looking at two of the cutest, hottest twinks you ever saw. When they went out dancing all heads would be turned in their direction and men would compete to take them home. But the years had passed and after many, many beers and burgers they had beefed out. They had stopped getting back, crack and sac waxes and let their body hair grow as nature intended. To look at the two handsome, dark eyed bear studs now you would never guess that they were once bottle blonde twinks that could whip up a room full of men into an erotic frenzy. That is not to say they were past it. Far from it. At thirty eight, they were in their prime. They filled out their jeans with beefy cocks, fat nuts and firm, fleshy man mounds. They still had what it took to turn a man’s head. Ray and Andy always came as a pair, cruising the park and the woods, hanging out in bars and back rooms; if you wanted one you had to have the other. They hunted as a pack and what they loved most was ass and plenty of it. Jason stood alone in a bar one night, trying to make his drink last as long as possible because he was stone broke. His girlfriend had kicked him out of the apartment for cheating and he had nowhere to go. He knew not a single person in the whole darn city that he could ask to take him in, and the girl he had been cheating with just didn’t want to know. He remembered seeing a movie once about a guy who was in his situation. He went to a gay bar and a kindly older gentleman picked him up and took him home. When they got home the young guy had promised the older man sex in the morning, pleading tiredness and a headache, and had then fled before the older man woke up. That was Jason’s plan. But what he got was something completely different. He could see these two beefy bears eyeing him up like he was some piece of meat. They could sense something fresh and virginal. Jason had big, blue eyes and ridiculously long lashes. He had wide shoulders and a narrow waist and a tiny little bubble butt. The butt munching bears knew they had to tongue his hole before the night was through. Jason was surprised, but pleased when the barman put down a fresh beer in front of him. The barman nodded in the direction of Ray and Andy and flashing them a smile was the least that Jason could do. What a smile the young stud had! It was pure dynamite and Ray and Andy could feel their libidos rise. Ray gently cupped his hand around his monster nuts while Andy gave him a quick jab in the ribs. ‘Not so hasty.’ he snapped. ‘He looks like a rabbit caught in headlights. That dude’s straight and needs careful handling.’ ‘That dude is going to sit down on my tower of power for an hour or two.’ Ray sneered. ‘You’re disgusting when you get like that.’ Andy said. ‘Hurry up and seduce him already.’ Ray replied. Andy walked up to Jason and introduced himself. Jason thanked him for the beer and they soon got chatting. Andy could talk the hind leg off a donkey if he put his mind to it. He called Ray over and introduced him to Jason. ‘Are you guys lovers?’ Jason asked. ‘More like best friends.’ Andy replied. ‘So, how long have you known you were gay?’ Ray jumped in. Jason blushed beet red. ‘Actually I’m not gay.’ he said. ‘I guess you could say I’m down on my luck. You guys couldn’t introduce me to some old guy who could give me a place to stay for the night?’ ‘You could stay with us.’ Ray told him. He wanted this hot dude so badly he could almost taste his juices on his tongue. ‘That’s very kind of you,’ Jason said ‘but I get the feeling that if I stay with you I will have to put out.’ ‘You will indeed.’ Ray told him. ‘I was kind of hoping I could just get a place to sleep for the night without having to have sex.’ ‘Sorry, can’t help you there.’ Andy told him. ‘But if you change your mind before closing time come find us.’ Ray and Andy left Jason on his own and as the night wore on he tried desperately to find someone who might take pity on him. But he had no takers. He began to think about Ray and Andy’s offer. What did they plan to do to him? There was no way he could take it in the ass, but if they just wanted to suck him off, well…perhaps he could handle that. It was better than sleeping on some park bench. ‘What do I have to do….I mean, in bed…if I go back home with you guys?’ he asked. ‘I wanna eat your ass.’ Ray said. Jason was shocked. ‘As long as you don’t try sticking your cock up my ass, I guess that’s OK.’ ‘Yeah, yeah.’ Ray was impatient. ‘Let’s get your sweet ass home and have some fun.’ Half an hour later Jason found himself in Andy and Ray’s living room. There was a huge painting of a naked man with a ginormous cock that dominated the room. As Jason looked at that picture he wondered what he had let himself in for. Ray was a little tipsy but Andy seemed like a reasonably nice guy. Jason decided that he would have to count on Andy to reign Ray in and make sure that his boundaries were respected. ‘Time to drop trou.’ Ray beamed. Jason was extremely embarrassed. He hadn’t been naked in front of other men for a very long time, especially not in front of two burly bears that wanted to eat his as…
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The Bawdy Adventures of Bonny and Bright: The Bath
Copyright © 2006 Sticky Pen
He didn’t know I was watching him. He thought I was reading and the only reason he wasn’t bugging me about it was because he was so involved himself. And it wasn’t like I’d never seen him take a bath before. Coyle was always in the bath. He enjoyed bathing like I enjoyed poker. Hot water and suds up to his chin, a cigar in his mouth, brandy at hand, like a gentleman of leisure. As was his habit, he had the tub arranged so it faced the hotel room door. I was sitting on the bed to his right and back a little so he couldn’t even see me peering over my book unless he turned his head a good ways in my direction. He wasn’t going to turn. He was in a world of his own and didn’t even know I existed. That was another thing that fascinated me about Coyle. The way he could lose himself in a dream. That wasn’t a skill I had ever mastered. I was firmly grounded in reality, a fact that often came between us. But not today. Today, Coyle was lost in a dream, and I was lost in my book, but then he made that sound and I had to look up. It’s hard to describe, kind of a moan, kind of a sigh. It comes from deep in his chest and I’ve heard it often enough to know, know that he had to be touching himself under the warm water, know that he had his eyes closed and his mind set on images of . . . what? That was what kept me from returning to the pages of my book, the wondering what. So I watched him, as if looking at him hard might help me see what was inside his head. He wasn’t smiling, but he never smiled when he was concentrating and boy, was he concentrating. He was making waves in the tub, agitating the water so much it slopped over the side. I put my book down on the bed, pulled my knees up so my feet were planted on the mattress. I couldn’t see his hand, but I knew where it was, so I mimicked this motion, rubbing myself beneath the fabric of my trousers. I was half hard already just thinking about what I was seeing. I held my breath and bit my lip, wanting to hold back any noises I might make that would give the show away. Coyle threw his head back so hard against the raised edge of the tub I was surprised it didn’t hurt. Maybe it did and maybe he didn’t notice. He was working hard now, more water sloshing out of the tub. The moans were louder, every few punctuated with a breathy ‘uh’ sound. It was those noises that were driving me to distraction. Something about the sound of him caught in the throes of passion that just pushed me to the edge. I unbuttoned my fly, slipped my hand inside my trousers, inside my long johns. It was a tight fit, but I wiggled and adjusted until my fingers were firmly wrapped around my hardened member. Now I had to work at staying quiet. The need to vocalize my rising lust was just so overwhelming, but I knew if I made a sound I’d pull Coyle away from his dream and that was the last thing I wanted to do. The bed squeaked. I held still, waited, watched him continue without notice. His lips were parted, the cigar tossed aside, head rolling side to side to side. He shoved back, lifted his hips off the floor of the tub is what I thought. Then he did it again and the sweet moans of pleasure turned to frustrated sobs. He wanted to finish himself, but couldn’t. And that was all I could take. I rolled off the bed and yanked off my shirt in one fluid motion. I dropped to my knees beside the tub and thrust my hand under the water. He had to know I was there, but he kept his eyes closed, kept himself inside the dream, and for that I felt a pang of sadness. The reality of me wasn’t enticing enough to make him abandon the fantasy in his head. I wondered what it could be, a woman, I suspected. On her knees in front of him, swallowing him whole, licking and sucking, drawing on the sensitive tip until he ached with desire. I could do that, was what I was thinking as I wrapped my fingers around his pole. He was hard as granite, thick and so stiff it had to hurt. I began to pump, sloshing water, picturing my own image in my head. Picturing me on my knees in front of him, pleasuring him, giving him everything he could get from a woman and more. Coyle bucked his hips in time with my rhythm, his breath coming now in short pants. Faster, harder. I tried to grab myself with my free left hand but the position was so awkward I couldn’t get a good hold. It would have to wait, wait for him, wait and hope that when he was done, he’d have enough left to finish me. Then his fingers dug into my bare shoulder. His body jerked like a fish on a line and he choked out my name. Then he was coming, lacing the cooling water with his seed. When the act was done, he went limp and I feared that he would slip beneath the water and drown. “Help me out,” he managed, then weakly levered himself up to standing. With my own legs shaking, I stood too, then helped him out of the tub. I grabbed a towel from the chair, told him to stand still then slowly, and with great devotion, I swabbed him dry. Arms, chest, where did those muscles come from? Last thing I remember he was a skinny, scrawny Coyle. Then I dried his hair, those silky, golden curls. Then his face, fuller now that he’d gained weight. I longed to see the spark of his eyes but he kept them closed, still in the fantasy. Fine. I could play along. I dropped to my knees, brought the towel down over his hips and buttocks, and then I circled one leg and buffed his thigh dry. The action sent my knuckles into his limp cock over and over, and by the time I had dried his other leg, it was showing signs of interest again. With the towel laid across my palm, I cupped h…
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A Steamy Confession
Copyright © 2006 Sticky Pen
Coach Chris Grey. Upon first glace, he seemed the perfect image of a typical college coach. A rugged, masculine individual, with an Adonis-like body fit to live in the temples of the Gods. Probably his most well known trait from that body was the chest that many students, male and female alike, called a “chest of steel.” It was obviously full of nothing but pure, beautiful, hard-earned, bulky-but not too bulky muscle. With a chest like that, it was hard to ignore the perfect outlines those hard pecs left along those tight-fitted white school shirts he always wore. His powerful, sculpted arms, “guns,” the team liked to call them, could barely be contained by the thin and pathetic cotton material making up the sleeve. And, as with any man these days it seemed, signs of tribal tattoos were just barely visible from the sleeve hem. When he’d turn to face someone, one could not help immediately noticing the entrancing forest green shade of his eyes. Accompanied by strong masculine features, facial hair kept lightly trimmed but never fully shaved off, and a shaved head from being a former navy man, many called Coach Grey “a bearded Vin Diesel” and it wasn’t difficult for him to attract girls, despite the fact that he never really paid mind to his natural charm. He was a dedicated man, and had a lot of heart for the game of football. Although he was at times very strict through tedious hours of practice sessions, he cared very much for the well being of his players. Alex Moore was now a sophomore in college, and this was his first year on the team. Even though their games didn’t always end in victory, he was a proud member of that team. And despite the bullshit some of the student body said about the Coach’s tough, if not “harsh” at times tactics, he admired him and his dedication the sport wholly. However… It seemed that admiration was leading to something a little more for Alex. It was as if he stared at his coach a little longer than he was supposed to these days.. feeling things that would probably lead to a one-way ticket out of the team, and out of the zone of respect many of his fellow players had for him.. urges too powerful to ignore.. a wild sensation in his body that would force him to give a stupid excuse to run to the bathroom during practice just to stroke away these outrageous, reoccurring fantasies of his coach. Of course, the coach would never know. Nobody would. No one suspected a thing, and it’d be between him and the four walls of his bedroom. The closest he’d get to being touched by his coach was the standard pat on the ass when one did a good job. Alex kept a good front at “playing it straight”, and sometimes would be a little overwhelmed at how many girls at his school he could attract without even so much as a brief glance. A football player since the age of 12, among the most noticeable features was his athletic, finely toned and smooth body. He wasn’t as bulky or buff as Coach or some of the other beefy guys on he team. Though once that shirt came off, it was nothing but pure toned muscle from his shoulders, down to that alluring bony hip curve that led those washboard abdominals, lined by a trail of hair from his navel, down to his crotch region. Throw in dark brown spikes of hair kept short and neatly groomed, and a pair of icy blue eyes that one could forever be mesmerized by; Alex was the perfect male college specimen. But because he’d been playing for so long.. and being in locker rooms countless times with untamed, half-naked men, he couldn’t help but have a curious side for them. Sure, he had a few girlfriends before, and certainly knew how to fuck a girl without breaking a sweat.. Yet no one ever expected him to have a curiosity towards the male anatomy. It began at the age of 18 when one afternoon after practice, he’d walked into a bathroom stall, only to find one of the upperclassmen leaning against a wall, stroking his long, hard cock to a porno magazine. His facial expressions made it obvious he was close to cumming, and hearing those erotic grunts sent an exciting chill up Alex’s spine. Though it had come to an abrupt halt when the other student sawhim standing there, seemingly mesmerized by how he stroked his cock. Alex never had another encounter like that again, though ever since, he found he was jerking off to masculine figures a lot more often, and became very aroused whenever the sounds of moaning and whimpering filled his ears as a worked-up cock erupted in sticky sperm. Until now, Alex never met another man he felt he was attracted to, or could give him that same thrilling chill.. that is, until he signed up to be on the “steel-chested” Coach Grey’s team. Yes, Coach Grey was widely seen as one of the most rugged men walking on campus. But nothing could’ve prepared Alex for the one night after a victorious game that he’d seen another side to their admired coach. A side nobody would’ve ever suspected.. a side that would forever exile him from any school in the state should anyone ever find out. And it was a night that would be forever locked behind his and Alex’s sealed lips. That night was a glorious night, and the locker room was in a victorious uproar. Screams, hollers, whistles, and wild laughter. The team had just brutally defeated their school’s rival, the much-feared Cougars. The sent of steam and sweat filled Alex’s nostrils.. and with the help of the shirtless antics of his fellow teammates, he couldn’t help but feel a little aroused. Being the rather quiet person he was, Alex sat on a bench in front of his locker already changing his clothes, with his sweaty jersey and pads laid out across the floor. The rest of the guys didn’t even bother changing, as some were ready to go out and celebrate, jerseys and pads and all.. though Alex couldn’t stand smelling disgusting and wallowing in filth. He was readying to take a shower in the locker room. As Alex stood, the little bottle of soap he’d taken out of his duffel slipped from his sweaty grasp. Though as he bent down to grab it… *THWACK!* A sharp sting ran along his ass cheeks! Damn towel-clad morons. With a slight groan of pain, palm gently rubbing out the burning sensation along his rear end, he turned around.. and saw it was his proud coach, with a goofy smirk playing on his lips. Alex would’ve sooner taken a nearby towel and thwacked the person right back if it were someone else though in the presence of his coach with just a towel wrapped around his waist, all he could do was blush. “Hell of a play out there tonight, Moore… those bastards never saw it coming!” He said with a hearty laugh as he placed a hand on his shoulder. A clumsy smile formed on Alex’s lips upon feeling his hand, though he couldn’t show any signs of arousal. He tried hard to suppress the growth attempting to make itself visible against his towel. “Y-Yeah, sure was… we put those little pussies in their place, huh??” Alex replied with an enthusiastic roar, which caused the surrounding teammates to shout out in a boom of laughter and cheers. A coy little smirk then formed, as he’d never gotten the team that wild before. Alex then looked back toward Coach Grey, and judging from the expression on his face, he seemed both happy that he’d seen more enthusiasm in the “cold soldier” of the field, and at the same time a bit surprised that he’d riled up the team so much. Though those beautiful green hues gave Alex a warm glance as he placed his hand on his bared shoulder again, gripping with a bit of force like he always did. “Nice job tonight Moore, you really surprised me. You gonna shower before you head on out, I’m guessin’? You’re the only one in a towel.” Alex stared around, and saw the rest of the team was pretty much ready to leave, despite the sweat, dirt and grass that covered their heads. It was a bit embarrassing being the only one that wanted to shower, but he turned back to his coach with a nod. “Yeah I’m gonna shower… won’t take long though, so uh.. you won’t wait long on me I guess.” Without even speaking, the coach’s eyes and smile said it all, and he turned back and walked down the center aisles of lockers, hollering at the rest of the guys who weren’t planning on staying to hurry up. As Alex watched him leave, the arousal he’d been trying so hard to suppress couldn’t take much more as he watched that perfect, bubbled-shaped muscled ass of his, its shape so finely outlined by the pair of black mesh sports shorts he wore. That excited bulge against his towel was becoming a bit more visible, but the guys were still around and he couldn’t allow them to see that. So yet again, he had to suppress his urges. It was so very frustrating to have something you desire to be so close and in plain sight, yet is still untouchable. Bedtime fantasies could only last for so long before he felt he could literally burst. ******** It took a good half hour for the locker room to empty out. Everyone, including Alex, was just so damn thrilled that they’d beaten the school that beat them every year. Tonight, they’d broken a 6 year curse, so of course, they couldn’t just pat each other on the back. After a toast of harmless, ice-cold Gatorade, his teammates, packed and fully clothed, finally cleared out of the place until the only thing left was Alex, empty plastic cups, a couple of opened lockers, and the shower room hyst a few feet to his right. His eyes then shifted and noticed the coach was nowhere in sight. He felt like calling out but perhaps he was already busy cleaning up the mess the guys left on the floor. With a shrug, he slipped into the steamy shower area and let the towel drop to the white tile floor a few feet away from the shower head near the back corner. With a rusty squeak, the showerhead opened, releasing a stream of warm water against his perspired form. Relaxing, soothing.. a wave of relief came over his worked and slightly aching muscles, as droplets of warm water quickly began sliding down his skin, racing along each contour of muscle down his back, arms and torso. Those same erotic thoughts of Coach Grey still lingered on his mind, and being in a shower completely nude wasn’t really helping. Running his fingers along himself with soapy palms, tracing across each wet nipple and then moving down along his stomach, he eventually allowed his touch to brush against that semi-erect member. The tip was so sensitive.. just the slightest touch, and it would twitch into full attention. And that sort of self-coaxing coupled with dirty thoughts needed to be attended to right away. Without even looking around to make sure it was safe, Alex again allowed his soapy hand to run down his stomach, then watched as his fingers gently wrapped around his hardening cock. For a moment, his eyes fluttered shut as his own grasp around that soap-covered cock began gently stroking it into full erection. A gentle breath escaped parted lips as he slowly stared down at …
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