I felt comfortable going on the road with the team. It was minor league but I was playing baseball and that was all that was important. I didn't have any great hopes of ever making it to the big leagues, but I was proud to wear the Colts uniform. All I had to do was keep my little secret and be on my guard around the other guys. I'd done okay so far, but now we were going on the road and I would be sharing a room with another guy in closer, more intimate quarters than the casualness of the dugout.
I was greatly relieved when I learned that I was odd man out on the room assignments. That meant I would be rooming alone. So I was okay till we got the news that John Brocker was coming down to the Colts minor league.
Brocker was a major leaguer who had been in the papers and all over the news for speaking out so bluntly against gays and coloreds. They were sending him back to the minors to get his head on straight and get his shit together; a form of sensitivity training, they said. He was a true homophobe. And I wasn't colored.
We got a lecture before practice about Brocker's arrival.
"Okay, listen up. You've all heard the rumor that John Brocker is joining our team. The rumor is true. When he gets here, you don't give him a hero's welcome or make a big fuss. That's straight from the front office. He is one of you. Treat him that way. Brady, he'll be rooming with you."
I felt a chill go down my spine and sweat break out on my forehead. John Brocker was not only the biggest homophobe on the planet, he was a stud, and I was going to have him in my room! How the hell was I going to manage to be around the big muscle-hunk who was so damned good looking he made girls piss their pants if he even looked at them, and still keep my secret? I couldn't protest or question the decision, though. It was a simple matter of me having a room to myself and there was another guy who needed a place to bunk. If I'd been black, maybe I could have protested. But like I said, I'm not black. I am gay and I couldn't admit it.
Brocker arrived in the team van that picked him up at the bus station. Yeah, he had to bring the bus to training camp. He got his gear out of the back and set it down and looked all around. Godd, he looked studly standing there in his uniform with those tight pants hugging his massive thighs and that big bulge of his cupped manhood and his butt sticking out in back like he had two melons stuffed in his pants.
"Brocker, join us!" the coach yelled.
He picked up his stuff and tossed it in the dugout and came onto the field with the rest of us. He didn't act snobbish or anything. Cocky, maybe, but that was his natural demeanor.
"Guys, you all know John Brocker. I'm not going to make introductions; you guys can introduce yourselves. Now, let's play some ball. Brocker, you take left field."
He didn't say anything. His expression didn't show that he was unhappy about not playing center field or second base, the positions he played in the majors. He sauntered out on the field with the rest of us. The coach didn't treat him any differently than he did the rest of us, but we did. This was John Brocker, and he was good. He was better than any of us, but he didn't act like it. After practice we boarded the bus and hit the road. It was sort of sad and lonely; nobody there to say good-bye to anybody. They didn't allow that.
The coach invited Brocker to sit up front with him, not as any special treatment, but to talk to him and remind him how things worked in the minors, in case he'd forgotten. We stopped to eat supper about seven. The guys, including me, were afraid to sit with Brocker and he ended up taking a booth by himself.
"Fuck, guys, I took a shower this morning," he complained good-naturedly.
Jason Wright poked me and said, "Let's go sit with him."
We got up and walked over to Brocker's booth, along with another guy. The other two slid in on one side and I ended up sitting next to John. He couldn't scoot over to make any more room for me; his size required his full half of the seat and our legs touched when I sat down. He jerked his knee away. The conversation was strained at first, till John eased the tension.
"Look guys, I fucked up, didn't keep my mouth shut. I'm not sorry I said what I did, although I had to make a public apology. So now I'm here and I gotta tell you I don't mind it. I hope you don't mind my being here."
"Naw, man, we don't mind," Jason said.
"We just need a little time to get used to rubbing elbows with a major leaguer," I said.
"Just make sure that's all you rub," he said. Then he loosened up. "Look, I put my jockstrap on the same way you guys do," he added.
We piled out of the bus at a motel in some little town in Kansas about nine-thirty that night. I guess Brocker didn't know he was rooming with me. It never came up between us. Maybe he thought he would have his own room. If he did, he found out different when the team manager gave us our room assignments. Surprisingly, Brocker didn't seem to mind that he was sharing a room. I slid my key card in the lock and let us in. He closed the door and turned the bolt and I felt like I had just been locked up in a cell.
"I'm gonna shower, okay? Or do you want it first?" he asked as he tossed his bag on the bed nearest the window.
"No, go ahead, just don't use all the hot water," I said, half-joking, because I didn't think I ought to be telling John Brocker what to do. I stretched out on the other bed and turned on the TV.
I tried not to watch when he started taking off his uniform but I could see him out of the corner of my eye and I had to force myself to keep my eyes on the TV when he bared his upper body. Dam, he was built! He had muscles layered over muscles, and he was a lot smoother than I expected him to be. Well, not smooth, but he didn't have a lot of hair on his chest. It looked like he might have shaved and it was just beginning to grow out. It looked sexy as hell. The trail down the center of his cut abs was a little darker. He took off his shoes and socks and undid his pants. I braved a glance at him as he stood there in his jockstrap.
"Fuckin' cup, I should have taken it out before we got on the bus," he growled as he unsnapped the pouch and pulled the cup out and tossed it on the bed.
In that daring glance I saw how the pouch of his jockstrap seemed to fill out, like his manhood was relaxing from the tight confines of the hard cup. Godd, I thought, how big can he be! It was only a glance, and I forced my eyes back forward as he peeled his jockstrap down and kicked it aside. When he walked by me I nearly lost it. He was an absolutely beautiful male; a symphony of muscle in motion, and his manhood was really something to behold. It hung out in a cocky sort of arch, about six inches, swinging back forth in front of his balls as he walked, smacking against his thighs. I let my eyes follow him as he walked past and he couldn't see me watching. The view from the rear was equally rewarding. His butt made me ache inside. It was hard as bowling balls, the muscles flexed and sort of jumped up and down with each step. He went into the bathroom and closed the door.
I was in a terrible sweat. I can't do this, I thought. I can't be cooped up in the same room with this stud night after night for the whole fuckin' season. There was no place on earth that I'd rather be, of course. Hell, I was where every gay guy in the country only dreamed of being. But I just didn't think I could do it. I eyed the cup lying on the bed. He would be at least a few minutes in the shower. I picked up the cup and but it over my face and breathed in the dull, musky aroma so fresh from his manhood. Then I saw the jockstrap, all rumpled in a heap, still stretched to the form of his manhood. I took careful note of how it was laying on the floor and picked it up. It was still warm. I put it to my face and breathed in and out, drinking in the fresh smell of his manly sweat and musk. I felt dizzy and my cock began to get hard. I can't let this happen, I told myself. I put the cup back in precisely the same spot on his bed and arranged his jockstrap on the floor, hopefully as I'd found it. I just hoped he didn't notice it had been touched. I could see him getting really pissed over somebody handling something as personal as his cup and jockstrap.
I was nervous as hell about him coming back out and me having to strip down in front of him. I'm built, and hung good myself, but Brocker was a cut above awesome and I felt a sense of panic over the inevitable comparison. I hit on a solution. I would wait and shower in the morning. Quickly, I undressed and crawled in bed and when Brocker came back out I pretended to be asleep. He turned the TV down and I heard him getting into bed then the light went out. I was safe, at least till the next morning.
I didn't get much sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw the image of this gorgeous, naked male emblazoned on my eyelids. It was made worse because it wasn't a dream or my imagination; gorgeous, naked John Brocker was indeed in the bed right next to me.
I woke up to someone shaking my shoulder and opened my eyes to get the jolt of my life. There was Brocker, standing beside my bed, naked, with his huge cock practically hanging over my face.
"Better shag ass," he said. "We've got a game to play."
I stretched and flung the covers off before I realized that I had a roaring morning hardon. I was scared that if he saw it he might think he was the cause of it. But I had to shower. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed with the bed covers over around my middle. I was practically shaking as I dug around in my bag for clean underwear. I tried to hide my condition but it was impossible.
"Looks like you've got a problem," Brocker said with a snicker.
I was relieved that he thought it was amusing. At least he didn't think I was queer for him. My cock wouldn't go down. In the shower, it turned from a simple morning rail to a serious hardon, caused now by the image of the big baseball stud. It wouldn't go down, and it was worse when I soaped up down there. I was getting panicky. I couldn't go back out there with a hardon. Finally, in desperation, I jacked off. Even then, I was still pretty fluffed up but I could blame that on the warm shower.
Brocker was still in his shorts when I came out of the shower, stretched out on his bed.
"I guess there's no rush after all. I forgot the time change. We've got an extra hour," he said.
I could survive the next hour, but barely. If Brocker looked awesome when he was naked, he nearly matched it in those tiny white briefs that were stretched to the limit trying to contain his manhood. He caught me looking at him a couple of times but I tried to pretend I was looking out the window and I don't think he caught on. If he did, he didn't say anything, and I figured if he had caught on, he would most certainly speak out.
Bad as I hated to see his gorgeous, smooth muscles covered up, it was a delight to watch him suit up. He took off his shorts and tossed them on his bed and pulled on his jockstrap and tucked the cup inside like he was giving a demonstration on how to wear it. He hit the cup a couple of times with his fist, for what reason, I don't know, then reached for his pants. I had to consciously keep from choking on my air as I drank in the view of his high and tight butt muscles framed in the straps of his jockstrap; and the parting of the twin mounds as he bent to pull his pants on. He turned around to put his jersey on, stood there buttoning it up like he was putting on a demonstration again. Somehow during all of this, I managed to get my uniform on, but I don't remember it. Walking to the bus, I was about a half step behind him so I could watch his round, hard butt muscles churning inside his uniform pants.
We won the game and moved on. No time for celebration or glory; there was no glory in a minor league road team winning a game with no fans around. We were pretty much alone among ourselves while the opposing team had their fans to cheer them on. That night some of the guys were going out on the town. They asked me and Brocker to go along.
"I can't," he said.
"Why?" I asked.
"I'm confined to the room."
"What! How come? What'd you do?" I asked. I couldn't imagine that he'd gotten in trouble with the coach already.
"It's from the front office. They don't want me seen out in public except on the field till this shit blows over," he said.
"That's shit," someone said.
"Tell me about it," he said.
We went on without him. I felt bad. By the third night when he was left alone in our room, it was getting to him. I offered to stay back, but he insisted I go out with the rest of the team. That night, Nathan Black had come to our room to pick me up and John was bitching about having to live like a nun.
"Hell, I think I would just about settle for one of those fags I slammed," he said.
"Maybe we could find you a woman, bring her back here," Nathan said.
John's eyes lit up. "Well, they didn't say I couldn't have visitors in my room," he said thoughtfully.
"It's not being out in public," Nathan said.
"Aw, but the coach would shit," John said.
"The coach doesn't have to know," Nathan said. "Hell, do you think he cares how many women are sneaked into the rooms?"
John laughed, shaking his head. "This is so fuckin' different. We used to have women waiting outside our room when he we got to a hotel. One time I had two women waiting inside my room. They bribed the bellboy to let them in."
"This is the minors," Nathan reminded him.
"Yeah, I remember the minors," John said in a melancholy tone.
"But there are women in every town anxious to get laid by a baseball player, even a minor league player," Nathan said.
"Okay, see what you can find," John said thoughtfully. "And hey....." He dug out his wallet and handed me some money. "Pick me up some condoms, will you? Extra large."
I went with Nathan.
"Extra large? Fuck, he must be hung like a horse. How big is extra large, anyway?" Nathan asked.
"I don't know. I use Magnums myself, but I've never seen extra large," I said.
"Maybe he's just bragging, trying to impress us and put on a show."
"He's not bragging," I said.
Nathan looked at me funny.
"He's hung like a horse," I said.
We found a drugstore a few blocks away and bought a box of a dozen extra large Trojans plus a pack of three. Curious, we decided to find out just how big Brocker might be. Outside, I tore open one of the packages and unrolled the condom then blew in it to see its capacity. The thing ballooned out to a length of about twelve inches without any stretch.
"Goddam! If he can fill that thing up, this broad is not going to be able to walk for a week," Nathan said.
I was impressed too, with a tingling feeling in my loins just imagining the condom stuffed full of his huge, hard cock. I was guessing I would have to be with Nathan for most of the night if we found a woman for John. We hailed a cab and told the driver to take us to the local sports bar. A lot of the guys had already discovered the place.
"Shit, they've got women hanging all over them," I said as we walked in.
"Well, somebody's gonna be pissed when we pull his woman off and drag her back to the motel for Brocker," he said.
"Tell her who's waiting at the motel and you won't have to drag her off."
"Hey, where's Brocker?' somebody asked.
"He's restricted to the room," I said.
"Why, what'd he do now?"
"Nothing. He just can't leave the room at night and be seen in public."
"For the entire summer?"
"That's what he said."
"Fuck, that's gotta be tough; a guy who's use to beating the women off with a ball bat."
One of the women was paying closer attention than we thought, and she knew baseball.
"Wait a minute. Are you saying John Brocker is back at your motel?" she asked in disbelief.
"He's his room mate," he said, pointing to me.
"I heard he was going to be sent back to the minors as punishment but...ohh my Godd, I can't believe it!" she exclaimed.
"Would you like to meet him?" Nathan asked her quietly.
"Oh, yess! He is so hot and sexy. Do you think he'll see me?"
"Trust me," Nathan said.
The three of us left and took one of the cabs waiting out front back to the room. Nathan did a double-take when he saw John lying on the bed in his tiny white briefs. Brocker was that kind of man. He turned heads, male and female alike. He barely looked up when Nathan and I walked into the room, leaving the woman outside the door.
"No luck, huh?" he said, his eyes on the TV.
"Look again," I said as I motioned for the woman to come inside.
He looked over and his eyes popped when he saw the woman come into the room. "Holy Shit!" he gasped as he swung his powerful legs over the edge of the bed and sat up.
"This is......?" Nathan looked at the woman; we hadn't even gotten her name.
"Angela," she said.
"She wanted to meet you," Nathan said.
"Well, I'm very glad to meet you, Angela," John said with great emphasis as he stood up. The woman looked like she might faint as the big muscle-stud walked toward her. He came right over to her and took her hand and kissed it. I watched in awe myself. He didn't give it a second thought that all he had on was his briefs. Angela sure did, though, the way she was looking at him, and I wondered what was going through her head. I think she understood that she would get to more than just meet John Brocker.
"Look, Brady and I are going back to the bar," Nathan said.
"Yeah...see you guys later...thanks," John said.
When I glanced over my shoulder, Brocker already had his arms around her and was squirming and writhing his mostly naked body against her, and she was responding in kind. Thinking of the condom we had checked out, I thought, Dam, she was going to get her eyeballs fucked right out of her head. Lucky bitch.
Nathan and I joined the others back at the sports bar and I played their game with the women except that I didn't try to pick one up and take her back to my room. Thankfully, I had the perfect excuse. My room wasn't available. Suddenly Nathan rushed up to me.
"We forgot the condoms!" he gasped.
"No, we bought the large.....Oh, Shit!"
"Yeah, we forgot to give them to him," he said.
"Fuck! We left them in the cab!" I exclaimed.
We rushed outside. Luckily, the cab was still there. We climbed in and found the condoms and told the driver to take us back to the motel.
"He's going to kill us," I muttered under my breath.
Back as the motel, neither of us moved to get out of the cab.
"Are you going to take them to him?" Nathan asked
"I was hoping you would."
"He's your room mate," he said.
I grabbed the small brown bag and got out of the cab. My legs were shaking as I walked up to the door. My hand shook even more as I knocked. The door opened and John peered out around the door with a scowl. His briefs were stretched beyond belief, extended with his big cock. I tried not to look, but it was impossible not to notice.
"We, uh...forgot these," I said, rather meekly as I fought to keep my eyes at least chest high. I caught a glimpse of Angela lying naked on the bed.
"Thanks," he said. "We hadn't got that far yet."
He shut the door and I went back to the cab.
"What'd he say?" Nathan asked.
"That's it? He wasn't pissed?"
"He said he hadn't got that far yet that he needed them."
We went back to the bar and joined the rest of the guys. I was half hoping that there wouldn't be enough women to go around, at least for me, but there were a couple of women who were only too eager to do double duty and take care of two of us. I declined and sat at the bar watching a ball game on TV. Someone came up and sat on the stool next to me. There were enough empty stools that he didn't have to sit right next to me. Within seconds, I felt his knee against my leg. I pulled away but checked him out in the mirror. He was checking me out too and our eyes met.
He was older than I liked but he wasn't all that bad looking and he filled out his shirt nicely. When our eyes met he brushed his knee against my leg again. Again, I pulled away. I couldn't let the other guys see me getting cruised and certainly not picked up.
"Sorry," I mumbled as I slid off my stool and walked away.
After a couple of hours several of the guys had left the bar with women and I decided to go check on the situation back at the motel, to see if I had a place to sleep yet. Angela was coming out of the room just as I got out of the cab. I whistled for the cabbie to wait. She was disheveled and she looked a little dazed, almost as if she didn't recognize me at first.
"Everything they say about John Brocker is true," she said. "My Godd, he's a stallion! I just want to thank you for the most wonderful night of my life."
"Hey, I didn't do it, he did," I said, jokingly.
I put Angela in the cab and sent her on her way. When I went inside, John was lying in bed with the sheet up to his waist and a satisfied smile on his handsome face. The air was thick with the smell of raw sex.
"Thanks, man," he said.
"Sure, anytime. It's gotta be hell being confined, with your reputation."
"Do I have a reputation?" he asked with a grin.
"Shit, every guy on the team wishes he was in your shoes."
"Not right now," he said.
"Yeah, right now. This minor league thing is temporary."
"I don't know about that. I can't see them sending me back up to the majors. I think I'm gonna be traded or sold, if anybody will have me," he said, rather melancholy. "But fuck it. I'm playing ball and I'm with a great bunch of guys. I can live on the money I've already made."
"That must be a good feeling," I said.
We talked well into the night, about everything, and I felt I was really getting to know him. And for a brief time I saw John Brocker as something besides a hot, sexy stud, although I never lost my appreciation for his looks and his muscular body. I felt more at ease with him; and felt it would be easier now to keep my secret.
"Hey, thanks again, man," he said as he reached over to turn out the lamp.
"No problem," I said.
"I hope you mean that because I'll probably be calling on you again," he said.
"Sorry about the condoms," I mumbled.
He laughed. "Yeah, I was beginning to sweat that. I'm not very good at pulling out," he said.
I pimped him a woman a couple of nights later and in his appreciation we seemed to grow closer as teammates. Then one fateful night it all came out. He guessed. All because some words came out of my mouth wrong and I wasn't able to cover them. I was laying on my bed, freshly showered, and John was drying off after his shower, his muscles rippling, his big cock dancing, and for a fateful moment, I looked at him. Really looked. I guess I must have been gazing at him.
"What're you looking at?" he asked gruffly.
I snapped back to reality. "You're really built. It's hard not to notice," I said.
"You're built pretty damned good yourself," he said.
"But not like that," I said. I don't know if there was a fleeting glance at his manhood when I said it or if he read the wrong meaning into it, but I knew instantly from his look that I had said the wrong thing, especially to a homophobe, or he had taken it the wrong way. My gut tightened. Shit, if he got mad and hit me, with the size of his arms he would knock me dead.
"Are you talking about my body or my cock?" he asked.
"Well, it's pretty hard not to notice that, too," I said, trying to sound light- hearted.
"Yeah, well, don't notice too much. I hate guys staring at my cock. I know I'm big."
"Oh, really. If you hate it so much, why do you parade around naked?" I said bravely.
"I'm not parading," he said with a scowl. "I'm drying off."
"You could do that in the bathroom and come out in your shorts. Although those briefs you wear don't conceal much." Dam, where did that come from! I was burying myself.
"You're noticing too damned much," he said as he rummaged in his bag for a clean pair of shorts.
"Sorry, but I would think you would be used to being noticed," I said with a hint of sarcasm. "I was going to ask you where you get your underwear. I'd like to get some like it."
He tossed me a pair of his shorts. "Here, you can have these."
"Thanks," I said, snatching them out of the air. I was surprised that he was suddenly so cordial and generous, especially with the tone of voice he was using.
"Hey, I shouldn't have growled at you. Fuck, yeah, I like people looking at me; what the hell good is being built like this if nobody notices. But sometimes I can't help wondering what's behind the looks and it gives me the creeps."
"You seem to enjoy it when the cameras are in the locker room and you're strutting around with no shirt, or with nothing but a towel on. Why would it give you the creeps if some babe was ogling you and thinking she would like to get in bed with you, which is what they're all thinking. They're all hoping that towel falls off."
"I was talking about fags."
"Why should that bother you, you're not going to bed with them," I said. "Hell, you can't be the thought police."
"I just don't like it," he said.
"Yeah, the whole world knows that," I said, feeling somewhat proud of the way I was holding my own with him.
He ended the conversation with his silence when he got in bed but I knew deep down that there had been a seed of doubt about me planted in his handsome head. Part of me hoped the seed sprouted and bore fruit, and part of me was scared it would. I couldn't help thinking how great it would be if John knew I was gay and he was okay with it and we were rooming together. I half hoped he did guess, providing he didn't go on a rampage and kill me. I certainly wasn't going to come out to him. I wasn't ready to commit suicide. Besides, nobody on the team knew, and I wasn't sure how the front office would react if word got back to them.
I woke up later in the night, unable to sleep. John was stretched out across his bed on his stomach, his arms flung overhead, one leg straight out, the other one cocked out to the side and his cock and balls laying back between his legs. My eyes fell to his gorgeous butt and they wouldn't move. I just sat there and gazed at him, my mouth watering for his butt. Dam, how I wanted to bury my face in those tight, round buns. I knew he would like it if he could just get past the gay thing. I gazed at his thick cock with his big, heavy balls draped on either side. I got a hardon. He was so damned gorgeous he gave me a hardon just looking at him! I stood up and stepped closer to his bed. I knelt down for a precious moment, close enough that I could feel his body heat. I was sorely tempted but scared as hell and I stood back up. If he happened to wake up and catch me knelt down beside his bed, hell would open up and swallow me.
My cock ached it was so hard. It'd been too long and chances of running into a guy on the road to have sex with were pretty slim. I went to the bathroom to jack off again but John's naked body drew me like a magnet. I stepped out of the bathroom and stood there in the soft darkness and jacked off while I looked at his body. I pretended my cock was his cock, and that my chest was his. I choked on my moans as I shot off in my hand. I caught pretty much all of it but it was overflowing my hand and running down my fingers. I went in the bathroom to rinse my hand off then got some toilette paper and cleaned up the spots off the floor. I slept good for the rest of the night but I knew the horse was out of the barn. I was sure John knew about me, and I was afraid he would be biding his time to trip me up. I thought I might ask for a room transfer, but I would have to give a valid reason. And besides, I couldn't deny myself the sight of the big stud every morning and night. That was worth any risk.
For some reason, the next morning John sat with me on the bus. Not that he avoided me before but I had the feeling that he sought me out. I was especially surprised after the exchange we'd had the night before. His sitting in the seat beside me made part of me hope that maybe we were becoming more than just room mates. Maybe we were becoming friends, of sorts.
He dozed off and his leg leaned heavily against mine. I wiled the miles away looking at his massive thighs and the mighty bulge between them. When he woke up he stretched his legs, pressing his right leg hard against my left before he casually moved it away.
"Are we there yet?" he asked sleepily.
"We're late for lunch, we should be stopping anytime," I said.
That night's game, somewhere in Missouri, tied and went into extra innings and it was late when we got to the motel. John was irritable. I tried to overlook it; we were all tired, and more and more, playing ball, win or loose, was beginning to be a thankless job, what with nobody there to cheer us on. That was the night he hit me with a bombshell. He had come out of the bathroom after his shower wearing a white T-shirt and those tiny white briefs with the awful bulge in front and the twin bulges in back. I guess as a result of our conversation the night before, he decided he wouldn't run around naked anymore. He still looked hot; about as sexy in his clothes as he did naked.
"You're a fag, aren't you?" he asked out of the blue.
I was visibly taken aback and unable to speak for a moment till I'd swallowed the lump in my throat.
"I never put that label on myself," I managed to say.
"But you are. I'm reading all the signs," he said.
He laughed. "Hey, you don't get built like this without getting used to the looks," he said.
"So you're used to it, why should it bother you?" I asked cockily.
"Hey, do you want a piece of me," he barked in a belligerent tone.
"Not the way you mean it," I snapped back.
"Okay...do you want a piece of me," he asked again, this time grabbing the front of his shorts.
I was about ready to melt and run down in a heap at the way the conversation was going; or head for the door. I admit, I was scared of the guy. The size of his arms bulging out of his shirtsleeves was pretty intimidating.
"Shit, the way you feel about fags, do you think I'm crazy enough to fall for that? I want to live to play another game," I said.
He backed down a little. "Hey, I hate fags, I don't hate you," he said.
"Oh, you think I'm a fag, but you don't hate me, you just hate fags. Where and how do you draw the distinction?" I asked.
"You're my room-mate, my team-mate."
"From what I've read, that never mattered before."
"I thought we were starting to get along," he said.
"Are we? I never know what the hell you're thinking," I said. "I don't know whether you're going to be cordial one minute, or break my neck the next."
He sighed. "Yeah, I'm supposed to be working on that," he said.
"If they ask me, I'd have to say it's not working so far."
"Hey, I wasn't setting you up," he said. "I was only asking."
"You hate fags but you don't hate me because I'm your team mate and your room mate. Is that because you're confined to the room and I'm handy? You wanta use me, is that it?" Shit, I didn't care if he used me....I would be his fuckin' slave....but I wanted to clear the air between us. Mostly, I guess I wanted to be sure it was safe.
"I didn't intend it that way," he said. "I just....well, let's just say I wouldn't object to a mutually agreed arrangement."
"And that means? You wouldn't break me in two if I made a pass at you?"
"I don't understand. I thought this was what gay guys went for," he said, motioning to his body.
"Oh, you're a fuckin' dream," I told him. "I just don't know whether to trust you not to turn it into a nightmare. Even if you're not setting me up, I don't know what your mood would be afterwards, whether you're going to announce to the entire team that you had sex with me, or just beat the shit out of me."
"Hey, I know I can be an asshole, but I wouldn't do that. Neither," he said.
"You outed one of your team mates; dam near ruined his career," I reminded him.
"No, the front office knew he was queer. Everybody on the team knew it. Hell, some of them were sleeping with him."
"But you were the one who made an issue of it," I accused.
"He made an issue of it when he made a pass at me in the showers," he said.
"I rest my case," I said.
"Hey, if you don't want it, okay; we both loose," he said with a shrug.
"I do," I blurted in a way that turned his head. The moment was at hand. I would find out if he was setting me up or really wanted to get something going between us.
He nodded. "You do? Really?"
"Fuck, rooming with you is like being in a dream and a nightmare at the same time," I said. "Shit, man, I jacked off the other night just watching you sleep. But you're damned intimidating. I think you know that, and I think you enjoy it. You don't know how scared I was when I found out we were rooming together. The biggest homophobe in the nation, and I get him for a room mate."
"I'm supposed to be working on that, too," he said.
"So what's your plan, to go back and tell the front office that you actually roomed with a fag, you even had sex with him, so you're cured of your homophobia?"
"You know something? I'm not going back to the majors. They know it and I know it. We all know I'm just biding my time till my contract runs out. Maybe I'll get lucky and get traded but I doubt it. I'm damaged goods. Maybe I'll play in the Canadian leagues or go to Japan."
"I feel bad about that," I told him.
He gave me a knowing smile. "You really jacked off watching me sleep?"
"You don't have to do that. If you're interested....I'm willing," he said. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs. "But if you're not, tell me so I don't waste my time taking these off."
"You won't be wasting your time," I assured him.
He pulled the shorts off his hips and stopped. "Do you want to take them off?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said, my eyes glued to his briefs. The bulge of his manhood bounced as he walked over and stood in front of me, his feet planted wide and his hands on his hips; a typical studly stance for John.
I hooked my fingers in the waistband and pulled his shorts the rest of the way down. Down, down, down, practically to his knees before the end of his cock was freed. It swung up and hit me in the chin.
"Hello, there," John said with a chuckle.
I pushed his shorts down and he stepped out of them and there I was face to face with possibly the biggest cock in captivity. It hung out about nine inches now, still rubbery, not hard, but thick as hell, and pulsating bigger with each heartbeat.
"Geezuss, how big does it get?"
"Maybe it's better if you don't know," he said. "Okay, twelve inches, a little over."
"Dam!" I swore.
"Yeah, it can get pretty uncomfortable, trying to stuff everything inside that damned cup," he said.
His cock got bigger. And bigger. I thought it had reached the twelve-inch mark but it kept growing, straighter and longer and thicker and my eyes were popping. What the fuck was I going to do with it! I watched it throb to its full size and hardness till it stuck out and upward in a little curve, quivering when it throbbed, bowing its head slightly, then thrusting up again. He was oozing cock-honey out the slit.
"My Godd!" I gasped as his cock expanded one more time. "My Godddd! Goddam, I never seen a cock this big," I said.
He chuckled softly and twisted his hips, making his cock sway back and forth in my face.
I knew I had to get to it, and I wanted to, but now I was so afraid I wouldn't be able to do him justice and satisfy him. John Brocker demanded satisfaction and I was eager to give it to him. I was good in that I loved cock, but I hadn't been at it long enough to consider myself an expert, and this cock needed an expert. I leaned in with my hands clasped on my own thighs and lapped the ball juice as it boiled out of the wide slit.
"Shit, you like that stuff?" he asked.
I answered by lapping up more of his precome. I relished the taste of him. I wrapped one hand around his cock as far as it would go and pulled on it while I cupped and squeezed his balls with my other hand.
"Goddam, I can't even get my hand around it," I said.
"You might have to use both hands," he said.
"These feel like two softballs," I said, tugging on his ball sack.
"Yeah, they're nice and full for you," John said.
I added my other hand around his cock and there was still more cock sticking out of my fists than I could possibly get in my mouth. I opened my mouth and stretched my jaws, not at all sure if the huge cock would fit in my mouth. I wet my lips and took a deep breath then put my mouth around the head of his cock.
"Awww, Sweet Geezussss!" he gasped, tossing his head back as he thrust his hips forward.
From his reaction before I even did anything, maybe I would be able to satisfy him after all. I would soon discover that John was easy to satisfy, partly because he'd never had anybody really suck his cock but mostly because he was so highly-sexed and insatiable-horny.
"Shit, I can't do this justice," I said.
"It ain't looking for justice, just pleasure," he said, thrusting his cock at my face.
"I'll try," I said. I opened my mouth and he shoved his cock in. I had to really force it to get down on the shaft far enough to even touch my lips to my hands. He fucked my hands and my mouth and I wondered how he ever found a woman who could handle him. Fuck, no wonder Angela was walking funny when she came out of our room. Most of what I did to make him feel good was with my tongue. I lashed it around the head and swirled it back and forth along the tender spot on the underside of the head. It made his cock twitch and him groan. The bluish veins bulged with his life's blood and I could feel the thick seminal vein sliding across my tongue, about an inch wide. It must deliver one hell of a load, I thought. I was in a state of absolute ecstasy with my mouth and both hands filled with his incredible cock. I had to tell myself, "I'm sucking John Brocker's cock!....the John Brocker who hates gays has got his cock in my mouth!" The way he was built I wouldn't have cared who he was but being John Brocker only added to the excitement.
He pulled his cock free and smacked it against my face like a club. I shut my eyes with my mouth slack and happily took the beating. He shoved it back in my mouth, lodging it hard against the back of my throat. I held my ground at first but I was afraid he might force it into my throat and I pulled back.
"I can't take it all the way," I told him.
"I know. You don't have to."
"I told you, I can't do it justice."
"Oh, you're doing it justice, buddy. Goddam, you've got a wicked tongue. Feels like soft, wet sandpaper."
"Listen, just so the question doesn't come up at the crucial moment, you can shoot in my mouth if you want to," I told him.
"No shit! That'd be great!" he exclaimed. "But it's not going to be any time soon. I want this to last all night. I gotta warn you though, there's an awful lot of it," he said.
"The more the better," I said.
"Okay, but you don't know what you're asking for," he said with a soft chuckle.
I began to think he really was going to last all night. I sucked him till my jaws were getting sore and I was afraid of lock-jaw. He pulled his cock out again and held it up against his belly.
"How about giving your jaws a rest and suck my balls. I want to see what that feels like."
I tilted my head and took his left nut in my mouth and washed it with my tongue.
"Awwwhhhhhhhh, fuck, that feels great!" he gasped, his voice trembling.
It tasted good, too, and felt great in my mouth. I went to the other one. They were too big to get them both in my mouth at the same time as I liked to do. I was heady from the manly smell of him. I crooked my head and nuzzled my face back between his legs and lapped my tongue way back under his balls where his cock came out of his body. I hoped to plant the seed but I would wait to see if the seed took on life. I wasn't sure he was ready or could handle me tonguing his ass. I was afraid he might freak out over that. Despite what we were doing, I couldn't get it out of my mind that he was still a homophobe and I didn't know if that leopard could change its spots. But for the moment, I put everything I had into showing him what my kind had to offer.
He was like a smorgasbord; his huge cock that continually oozed precome, his heavy-laden balls, and hard, sexy muscle for as far as I could reach. I wrapped my arms around his right thigh and thrilled to the feel of the hard muscles flexing against my chest. I ran my hands over his washboard middle and reached blindly for his pecs. I was surprised when he started to brush my hands away from his chest till my fingers touched his tits. He hesitated then moved his hands away to let me squeeze his huge pecs and his turgid nipples. He let out a little gasp and moan when I squeezed his tits between my fingers. Then he placed his big hands over mine and followed, or guided my hands as I explored his muscular body. Yeah, he liked being worshipped.
As much as I loved sucking his magnificent cock I was anxious for him to finish. The guy was like an animal, and I was getting tired, believe it or not, and my throat was pretty sore from the incessant pounding. And on top of that, I was anxious to experience his climax; to taste his come, and see how much "an awful lot of it" would be. I knew I was in for a treat. A stud like him could do nothing less than deliver a stupendous load. It took both hands and my mouth to accommodate his mammoth size but I formed a pussy for him with both fists and my mouth with a lashing tongue at the end. It finally brought him around.
"Oh, Fuck,....you're getting me close," he gasped, putting his hand on top of my head.
I didn't let up. I sucked him till his legs were shaking and his hips were lurching out of control. I braced myself for the unknown.
"Ohhh...Ohhh, fuck...here it comes!"
He barely got the words out of his mouth when he let loose with a gusher. I thought I actually heard the stuff gushing up through his cock, swelling the big seminal vein along the bottom of the shaft. The stuff surged over my lower lip and blasted against the back of my throat like hot honey. I was startled by the power of it. It felt like he jolted my head back. He shot out another thick rope of come and a third and my mouth was full. There wasn't much room for much more than his cock anyway. He kept shooting and I finally had to swallow but my mouth just kept filling up. My Godd, he was going to drown me with semen! I was amazed at the power and amount of come he was shooting, but I was more amazed that he didn't stop. I wondered how much more he could have left, and all the while he kept spurting hot come in my mouth. Finally, the power subsided and the stuff boiled out of his cock over my tongue. I swallowed still another mouthful and his cock began to calm down. It didn't go soft but it lost some of its quivering steel-hardness. His legs were still shaking so bad he had to get his weight off of them. He pulled his cock out of my mouth and stumbled backwards to sit on the edge of his bed.
"Dam, when you say there's a lot of it.....," I gasped.
"Holy Shit! I never shot off like that before!" he gasped with surprise. "It felt like you were gonna suck my nuts right up through my cock."
"I thought you were going to drown me," I said.
He laughed and plopped back across the bed, his chest still heaving. Come was still boiling out of his cock but I didn't make any move to get it. I wasn't that sure of him yet. I didn't know what his attitude would be now that he was satisfied.
"Was that really your first blow job?" I asked.
"Yeah, you're the lucky first," he said cockily. "Oh, there have been plenty of women try to go down on me, but they can't handle it for shit. This was definitely better than anything I ever had. Better than I ever imagined. Wow! You are awesome.""
"You've really imagined what it would be like, having a guy go down on you?" I asked, curiously surprised that such a thought would even enter his head.
"Hell, yes. Everybody's curious about shit," he said.
I sat there eyeing his cock. I'd never seen anything so big and beautiful. I stretched clear across his hip and the head hung over his side. I wondered if I could manage to get it all the way down my throat. Certainly not when he was hard, but......
"Next time, I'm going to take it all the way down my throat," I said before I realized it was coming out of my mouth. It was also a way of testing him to see if he might let it happen again.
He just smiled. I wanted him to say something, but he closed his eyes with a dreamy look on his face, and within minutes he was asleep. I must have really taken it out of him, and I was proud of that. I took the cover off of my bed and covered him up. I wanted to crawl in beside him but I didn't want to risk it. There was no telling what his demeanor would be like when he woke up. I figured a homophobe was a homophobe was a homophobe, and one blowjob wasn't going to change that. I was awake for most of the rest of the night, reliving what had happened, letting it soak in, and savoring the taste of his manhood.
Morning brought the return of my concerns. How would he act, now, after he'd had time to sleep on it? I stayed hunkered down in my bed long after I was awake, watching and waiting for him to wake up, almost afraid to face him. Now matter what pleasure I'd given him, I could almost picture him waking up, realizing what we had done and tearing into me. I glanced at my watch, thankful that it was so late; there wasn't much time before we would have to be on the bus. When I saw him waking up, I pretended to be asleep. When he finally got up to shower, I scrambled into my clothes. I wasn't forgetting for one minute that John Brocker was a homophobe, and if he was going to come out of the bathroom like a mad bull I wanted to have my clothes on, ready to run.
"Aren't you going to shower?" he asked me when he came out and found me already dressed.
"Not enough time," I said.
"There's plenty of time," he said.
"We had another time change," I reminded him.
"Oh shit!" he swore and scrambled for his clothes.
I wondered why he was saying there was plenty of time. Maybe he meant there wasn't enough time to beat the shit out of me. But he wasn't acting any different. When we boarded the bus to go get something to eat, John sat by me again. That surprised the hell out of me. His leg fell loosely against mine when he sat down and he didn't jerk it away this time. We drove to a restaurant where he sat across from me in a booth and a couple of times our knees touched. He took his seat beside me again when we got on the road after breakfast and I thought he purposely let his leg touch mine. I was getting more and more hopeful, but still with caution. He went to sleep and his leg jostled against mine the whole way. If anyone had walked by they might have thought we were playing kneesies. I had great hopes for that night.
We landed in Podunk, Someplace and played a decent game against I couldn't remember who, but we lost. We got an ass-chewing from the coach; he told us we all played like a bunch of teen-age pony-leaguers and said he wouldn't tolerate that kind of performance again. Maybe it was the weather; it was hot and muggy. He was right, we did play like shit. All except Brocker. Coach clapped him on the shoulder and told him good game. I didn't think Brocker could help but play a good game. He didn't have it in him to slack off.
We put a couple hundred miles on the bus before we stopped at a restaurant for supper. The driver let us out and drove the bus across the street and parked in a motel parking lot.
"That's home for the night," Coach told us, pointing to the seedy looking motel.
Jason Wright and Kevin Larson sat in a booth with John and me. John sat across from me and his knee touched mine when the other two sat down but he quickly drew it back and I wondered if he was suddenly reverting back. We ate and talked and had a good time even though we'd lost an easy game. I thought, we're acting like a bunch of fuck-ups who don't care.
"You ready to head over?" John asked me after a while.
I was startled that he asked; like we were `together' or something. Kevin and Jason had to get out of the booth to let us out and I thought I saw a funny look on Kevin's face. John and I walked across the street to the motel, leaving everyone else back at the restaurant. I wondered if anyone might be suspicious, but no....couldn't be....nobody knew I was gay and nobody would believe John Brocker was messing around with another guy. He was quiet as he took off his uniform.
"You want the shower first?" he asked me, sounding extraordinarily polite.
"Naw, go ahead."
"How come you always let me have the shower first? You don't have to do that."
I shrugged. "I don't know.....polite thing to do, I guess."
"You don't have to be afraid of me," he said, leveling his gaze at me after he'd taken off his jersey.
I didn't know I'd acted afraid but I didn't care that he thought I was.
"Look over there," I said, pointing to the big mirror over the dresser.
He looked at his reflection in the mirror, a confused scowl on his face.
"Wouldn't you be intimidated by that?" I said. "Especially when it's got John Brocker's name on it?"
He laughed and his stomach muscles danced and rippled.
"Can't we just forget my name's John Brocker," he said.
"No," I said.
He tossed his jersey aside, reached for the remote and flopped back on the bed. "You take the shower first," he said. "And that's the way it'll be....you take it first one time, then I take it first next time."
I finished stripping off my uniform, down to my shorts, and headed for the shower.
"I don't want you to be intimidated by me," John said as I was at the bathroom door.
"Easy for you to say," I said with a soft chuckle.
When I came back out of the bathroom, John was stretched out, naked now, stroking his huge cock, watching an X-rated video.
"They've got porn here," he said.
I gaped at him; his huge cock almost bursting out of his fist, the veins surging with blood, the pool of ball-juice in the wide piss-slit glistening in the soft light. I swallowed hard, loud enough for him to glance at me.
"Shower's all yours," I said.
"Are you going out with the guys?" he asked.
"No. I didn't see much of anyplace to go when we were driving into town," I said. "Why, do you want me to see if I can find you a woman?"
"Do I need a woman?" he asked with a sly grin.
My stomach did some flip-flops and my heart fluttered.
"I don't know, you tell me," I said. Then I added quickly, "Are you telling me you don't?"
He let go of his cock. "I'll grab a quick shower," he said as he rose up.
"You don't....have to....if you're not going out," I stammered.
He paused, half sitting up, and looked around at me. In that moment, when our eyes met, we understood each other.
"Man, I'm all sweaty. I smell like a horse," he said.
"Well....you're hung like one," I said. "I don't mind your being sweaty."
"Hey....okay....if you don't mind," he said and laid back down and spread his legs out. He took hold of his cock again and jacked it a couple of times then held it straight up. It was an invitation. My invitation. I tossed the towel aside and crawled on the bed between his legs. I drank the musky aroma of him as I buried my face in his crotch, in under his balls, to lap my tongue in the apex of his thighs. I managed to make contact with the crack of his ass but went no further. A sample would be enough for now; enough to make him wonder.
John could stay passive for just so long, lying on his back with me over him. I think being so totally worshipped was new to him; he liked to be in charge. He turned onto his side so my head was lying on his thigh and locked my head between his legs to pump his cock in and out of my mouth. I didn't mind being subdued. Later he moved over me with his powerful thighs against my ribcage and fucked my face. I loved the total helpless feeling of being used by the big stud as his sex slave. He didn't try to force his cock down my throat, but he was forceful in his thrusts. Still, I kept my hands placed on his hipbones to prevent him from impaling me on his huge cock. At the end he was up on his haunches, leaning back against the headboard, his knees splayed out with me stretched out in front of him, paying proper homage to his cock.
"I'm getting close," he warned as he pushed my head away.
I tried to capture his cock again with my mouth but he kept his hand on my forehead to prevent me from getting to it.
"Open your mouth," he said as he jacked his cock.
I obeyed and opened my mouth as wide as I could and braced myself. He took a few minutes to finish himself off. There was something sexy about watching his big hand wrapped around his cock to bring himself off. He groaned softly and I almost trembled with excitement as I anticipated his climax. Then suddenly, he was coming. The stuff shot out the end of his cock in a thick rope of semen that sailed right into my mouth and hit the back of my throat with a soft splat.
"Stick your tongue out," he said, and he aimed for my tongue.
I got the full, wonderful taste of him as he coated my tongue with his semen with one hard blast. Then another, and another, and another as the stuff cascaded down over my tongue and my mouth filled up. By the time he was finished, his come was trickling out the corners of my mouth and down my chin.
"Fuck, this is hot, watching your mouth fill up with my come and run down your chin," he said. He thrust forward a little and held the head of his cock over my mouth to milk and squeeze out the last of his load onto my tongue.
I could feel the sweat on my forehead from my excitement as I lay there looking up at him with a worshipful look, breathing hard for air.
"Are you gonna swallow it?" he asked.
I nodded and began swallowing. He watched, with a goofy smile and a mesmerized look on his face. He milked his cock one more time and another glob of come fell onto my tongue, then he scooped up the come off my chin and put his fingers in my mouth to lick it off.
"I don't know how you stand the stuff, but I'm glad you like it," he said.
"Whether I like it or not, it's the only way to finish you off," I said.
I was as much at ease with John after that second time as with any roommate I'd ever had, gay or straight. He was like a different man, even with the other guys. It was as if I'd softened him around the edges. Being alone with him in our room was the most special time of any day. I never lingered over supper and I didn't go out to the bars or nightclubs unless John indicated that he wanted me to find him a woman. If he did, I would go find him one and bring her back to the room and join the others at the bar for the length of time he said he needed alone with her. He didn't always ask for a woman, though, and those nights we both stayed in and I knew he wanted me to suck his cock. Either way, me or a woman, he had to have sex every day, and he had to have it for a long time. So I was his outlet when he didn't want a woman. I was especially happy for those many times that he actually chose me over a woman. I was in my own little heaven when I was stretched out between John's muscular thighs, lapping on his balls and sucking his incredible cock. I languished in the aftermath of his climax when he would explode a huge load of hot come in my mouth and watch with glee as I gulped it down. He loved to see me swallow his load. He liked to shoot on my face, too, then scoop it up with his fingers and feed it to me. It excited him that I liked his come. It excited me that he was becoming so at-ease with our newfound relationship.
Every time I sucked his cock I naturally worked down to his balls, which he loved, and down there I was only inches from the forbidden portal of his very being. I wanted so bad to show him how wonderful I could make him feel with my tongue but I couldn't work up the nerve. I was afraid he would think it was perverted and recoil away from me. I didn't want to spoil what I had going.
Till one night when he was stretched out on his stomach, waiting for me to shower, I was compelled to make my pitch. His gorgeous butt sticking up so nice and round and hard made my mouth water. I had to have him.
"Want me to start from the back tonight?" I asked smartly.
He looked over his shoulder at me. "Forget it. If there's an ass in this entire world that ain't ever gonna get fucked, you're looking at it."
"You think I'm that stupid? I wasn't talking about fucking it. I was talking about eating it."
He looked at me, stupefied. "Eating?....my ass?....fuck, are you crazy?.... are you serious?"
"Yeah. Just let me show you how good it can feel," I said.
"Fuck, yeah. Go ahead, chow down," he said, spreading his legs out wide and jutting his butt up and clinching the powerful muscles.
I was breathless as I lay between his legs and began kissing his butt. He sort of trembled.
"I've told a lot of people to kiss my ass, but this is the first time anybody ever did it," he said.
I dragged my tongue along the crevice and he relaxed the muscles. I pulled them apart and buried my face between them.
"Awwwhhhhhhh," he moaned softly as I lashed at his asshole with my tongue.
"Ohh, fuck, that feels good!"
I pulled his butt wider apart, digging my fingers between his buns to stretch his hole open. I could see the velvety-soft inner lining palpitating anxiously. I flicked the hole and he reared up sort of on his knees and I drove my tongue inside him.
"AAAAaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Ohhh...OHh, Goddd ...holy shit, man, what're you fuckin' doing! Ohh, Geezusss....."
I gave him a run for his money, non-stop, till he was a blithering idiot then I stopped abruptly.
"Turn over on your back and pull your legs up against your chest," I told him.
He quickly obliged, like he was my slave. I lay gazing at his clenching hole, wet with my spit. I flicked at it and he trembled. I licked it and he groaned. I tongued him and he nearly screamed. He actually had to bite down on the heel of his hand to stifle his outcries. I wanted to use my fingers and get in contact with his prostate but I thought it too risky. To John Brocker, a finger up his ass would be too much like getting fucked. I had it in my mind to make him come with my tongue and I wanted to make him shoot all over himself; that would give him an idea just how good it could be.
He was thrashing his butt around, moaning and choking and squealing with pleasure and I was delighting in watching his muscles bulge and ripple. He begged me to get my tongue in deeper, and maybe I could've used a finger or two at that point but I didn't take the chance. I was driving him crazy with just my tongue, making it so good that maybe he would welcome my finger next time. I knew that all I had to do was get my finger on his prostate and I would have him. But for now...
"Awwhhh, you gotta stop!" he gasped. "Ohh, fuck, you gotta stop before I come. Mannn...ohhhh, shit...ohhhhh, stop! Stop...it's too good!"
"No," I said. "I'm gonna drive you over the top."
Surprisingly, he didn't stop me so I fluttered my tongue around inside his soft ass to bring him over the top. He was so close, it wouldn't take much. Suddenly, his asshole spasmed around my tongue and I knew he was coming. He choked on his cries, unable to beg me to stop. I tilted his hips higher, bending him in half. He was in a frenzy. He was incoherent. He was coming! The muscles that propelled his load out of his body were powerful, like the rest of him, and he shot off so hard that it nearly jolted the bed.
"Awwwhhhhh," he moaned. "Awww, fuck, man...coming all over myself," he whined.
I tilted him higher and his cries were suddenly muffled and I knew he was shooting all over his face, and he probably got some in his mouth. I hoped so. I held him bent in half till he was finished. When he had the strength he tightened his abs to propel himself up straight. He instinctively sucked in air and suddenly jumped up and rushed to the bathroom. I saw his come streaming down his face and neck and his chest. It was a beautiful sight.
The water turned on and I heard him gagging and spitting. Yeah, sure as hell, he'd gotten come in his mouth. I sat on my own bed with my back against the headboard. I didn't know what the next few minutes would bring. Possibly his wrath for what I had done to him, but I wasn't all that scared this time. Much to my surprise he came out of the bathroom laughing.
"Fuckin' shot in my mouth," he said. "Geezuss, that stuff tastes like shit. How do you take it?"
"It's a matter of taste," I said.
"You can have it," he said. "Shit, I can't believe you made me come without even touching my cock."
"That usually gets them every time," I said.
"I didn't even know guys had feelings in their ass."
"More than you know," I said. I only hoped I would have the chance to show him.
We arrived in the next town just in time to play the game. After the game we had supper in a small cafe, straight off the field, then boarded the bus to go to our motel. Coach got our room assignments while everyone was unloading and getting their bags from the luggage compartment. He handed out the keys with our room assignments and guys began spreading out to go to their rooms. Brocker unlocked our door but stopped short just inside the room. He whirled around and came back outside, dropping his bag beside the door.
"Hey, Coach!" he called out. "Somebody screwed up. There's only one bed in this room!"
Guys stopped and looked and started laughing and whooping catcalls.
"I'll take care of it," Coach said, as he headed for the office.
Brocker remained standing outside the room, his hands on his hips, looking unhappy enough that the brouhaha died down. A few minutes later, the coach came back, shaking his head.
"Sorry guys, this is all they've got. You'll have to double up or one of you sleep on the floor," he said.
"Well, motherfuck!" Brocker swore.
Hearing it, the guys came out of the their rooms, whistling and laughing and cat calling again. Brocker still didn't go in the room. I waited. I didn't want to go in first, for fear it would look like I was anxious to share a bed with Brocker. Finally, he picked up his bag and flipped everybody off and went inside. I went in and closed and bolted the door and leaned up against it. He still looked mad.
"I can sleep on the floor," I offered.
"Yeah, but who the hell's gonna know that?" he scoffed. "You heard those assholes. Nothing's ever going to convince them we didn't sleep in the same bed."
I had to laugh, which I don't think he appreciated. "With your reputation, do you really believe anybody's going to think for a minute that anything happened?"
"Maybe you're right, but it don't look good."
I laughed again.
"What the fuck are you laughing about? What's so damned funny?"
"Brocker, I think you work at being a homophobe. I don't think you hate gays nearly as much as you like to let on. You admitted you don't hate me."
"It just don't look good," he growled.
"Yeah, but it feels good, don't it," I said jokingly.
That made him laugh.
"You want the shower?" I asked.
"Yeah, I guess it's my turn first," he said.
I leaned back against the headboard of the bed to watch him undress.
"What're you looking at?" he asked when he saw me watching him so openly
"Hey, get over it. I've had your cock in my mouth, it sure as hell shouldn't bother you if I look at it."
He didn't say anything. He grabbed up a pair of clean shorts and headed to the bathroom. He took his time and I was wondering what the night might hold in store. I was surprised when he came out of the bathroom naked. He tossed his shorts on the bed.
"Do you want it in your mouth some more?" he asked.
"I'll take it anywhere you want to put it," I said smartly.
He was lying on the bed, still naked, when I came out of the shower, drying off. I walked over to the window to look out, with my back to him.
"Whew!" he whistled softly.
I glanced over my shoulder.
"I've noticed guys' butts before...you know...bodybuilder butts...but never like I'm noticing yours right now," he said, boldly looking at my naked body. He'd never looked at me like that before, so bold.
"Giving you any ideas?" I asked cockily.
"Should it?" he asked. "When you said you would take it anywhere I wanted to put it, did that mean something?"
"I don't know, John, you can't even handle sharing the same bed, could your ego handle fucking a fag?" I said jokingly.
"Okay, I deserved that," he said. "Seriously, do you fuck?"
"Can you take this?" he said, pulling his cock.
"I'll sure as hell try," I said.
"Fuck, man, let's do it," he said excitedly.
I went into the bathroom and got myself ready, including plenty of Anal Ease and lube, and added the final touch by spraying some good-smelling body splash all over my body.
"Fuck, you smell good," he said when I came out of the bathroom.
I handed him the lube and he stood off the bed and squeezed some on his cock. I took his place on the bed on my back, my legs spread in welcome. I figured John would want me on my back, like he would fuck a woman. He reached down and crooked his arms under my knees and pulled me to the edge of the bed and laid my legs on his shoulders. He set his knees in the mattress and aimed his cock at my ass. I felt it spread my butt apart, burrowing between my buns till it was pressing against my hole.
"Take it easy going in till I get used to it," I told him.
"Sure. Is this the biggest cock you ever had?"
"Yes. It's the biggest fuckin' cock I ever saw."
"Are you sure you can take it?"
"Yes, if it kills me," I said.
He was good about working me up to it. He worked his cock back and forth against my asshole, stretching the network of muscles around it, pushing my asshole inward without bursting through it. He had me feeling good but I wished he would use his fingers first to get me warmed up and stretched. He had huge fingers, like small cocks; that in itself would be like getting fucked. It hit me hard when the head of his cock popped through my hole. The head was the size of a baseball.
"UUuuunnhhhhnnnnnnnn!" I groaned, pressing my head back in the pillow with a grimace of pain.
"That's gotta be hell, but you wanted it," he said and he didn't stop. He went right on and buried about half of his cock in my guts before he began encountering obstacles. He probed and poked and I winced with even more pain.
"I guess that's as far as we go," he said.
"No," I gasped. "G-give me a minute then you can go all the way," I said.
"It ain't gonna go all the way. I hit something."
"Work around it," I said, twisting my butt around to assist him.
"Are you sure I can go deeper?" he asked, but didn't wait for me to confirm it. He probed at different angles and a smile came across his face as his cock moved past the obstacles and went deeper. The girth of his cock was the hardest to take. He stretched me so that I had to hope my asshole would close back up. By the time he got done, it would be loose and stretched enough to drive a Mack truck up inside me. Half way in, without reaching bottom, he started fucking me. I appreciated that he was afraid to give me all twelve inches but I wanted it. It felt good and I appreciated his concern, but I wanted it all. Even I didn't know how I was going to handle it, where it was all going to fit, but I was determined to have his balls smacking against my butt when he fucked me.
"You've got a tight ass," he said. "And hot."
"It gets hotter the deeper you go," I said.
"You really want all twelve inches?" he asked.
He began fucking me, going a little deeper with each stroke, till he hit a barrier deep inside me. It felt strangely good, even through the pain and I could tell it wasn't some obstacle he could work around. It was a place nobody had ever touched before. Maybe it was the bottom of my ass, I didn't know, but I wanted to find out. He slid his cock back out of me then back in till he hit the barrier again.
"I think we've hit bottom," he said, and finding his depth, he started a rhythm. There was no particular technique or finesse with John. For him it was a matter of pumping his massive cock in and out of my stretched hole, more for his own pleasure then for mine. Pretty soon he was picking up the pace.
"Slow down," I said. "You gotta take it easy."
"Sorry, I only know one way to fuck; hard and fast."
As much as I wanted this, I was still a little worried about him tearing my ass apart; worried about him busting through something so deep inside me.
"Just let me get a little more used to it," I said.
He was banging the head of his cock against the drumhead till it was feeling less and less uncomfortable, on the way to feeling good. I just knew there was something on the other side of that barrier that would feel incredibly good and I wanted to know what was back there. I held him tight to my body and when he probed deep and ground the head of his cock against the barrier I gasped with excitement.
"I'm hitting something in there. Is that what's hurting?"
"It's a strange sort of hurt," I said.
"I've got something that'll help." He reached over and got a bottle of poppers that I didn't know was there. "You ever tried this?" he said, uncapping the bottle.
"Yeah, but it makes me lose my hardon," I said.
"We don't have to worry about your hardon," he said, holding the bottle to my nose.
I didn't argue with him. John Brocker wasn't a man you argued with, especially when he was looming over you with all those muscles bearing down on you and his massive cock buried in your ass. Impaled on something the size of his cock, you succumbed and pretty much did what he said. I wasn't a big fan of the stuff but I sucked in the poppers till my head started to spin.
"Okay, give me some more," I said, as the stuff began to take over my body.
John held the bottle out to me again.
"No, give me more of your cock," I said.
He complied happily, pushing another inch or so in me, stretching the drumhead barrier. It didn't hurt all that bad and I ground my butt down on it and all of a sudden his cock broke through. I winced but it didn't hurt, and suddenly I was seeing stars and my toes curled. The sensation was incredible. I'd never felt so damned wonderfully full in my life. It was almost overwhelming. I wanted all of him now. I wanted him to fill me with his huge cock till I felt it throbbing in my throat. He picked up on it and slid the rest of his meat deep inside me. When I felt his balls against my ass I shuddered and whimpered, knowing I had all twelve inches inside me.
Not that there was any doubt. His cock slid back and forth through the second sphincter a couple of times and it was almost more than I could take. He sensed that, too, and started to pull back.
"Leave it in," I begged.
"No problem," he said, pounding his cock deeper. I held him tight while he wrenched his cock around in my butt, stretching the new sphincter-barrier that he'd opened up. The fullness of his cock made me really want to get fucked.
"Fuck me," I told him.
"Gladly." He complied again. Taking longer and longer strokes, he dragged my guts out with his up stroke and rearranged them again with his down stroke. He opened the second sphincter wide, exposing a pleasure I'd never known before. The sensation of him tearing through me was like an itch that was scratched every time the bulbous head tore back and forth through the innermost deepest hole. Within a few minutes, I was his, totally and completely. He was plunging the entire twelve-inch length of his cock in and out of my ass and I was his moaning, whimpering whore. Added to that, my prostate was being worked over with each thrust, forcing cock honey out of my cock in a steady boiling stream. I knew I wasn't going to be able to out-last him. He was just too fuckin' good. I let nature take its course.
I surrendered completely to the big stud who had taken control of me, my body and my very being. When he picked up the pace to a balls-to-the-wall fuck I hoped he might be working it up and I knew I was going to spew. A couple minutes later my body shuddered with the onset of a massive orgasm.
"Getting close?" he asked.
"I can't stop it." I moaned. "Godd, it's just too fuckin good! I'm gonna come!!"
"Goddam, you are so tight and hot. I'm gonna loose it too," he gasped.
"Fuck me, awwww, fuck me, you big, magnificent stud!" I screamed as my orgasm hit and I snapped. Volley after volley of hot come shot out of my quivering cock. It was so hot it almost burned, and so thick it felt like it was having trouble being ejected from my painfully stiff cock. My entire asshole undulated around the rutting rod that filled me so completely.
"Oh godd, I'm fuckin' coming in your ass!"
"Give it to me Brocker!" I yelled.
I felt six or eight strong spurts of come flood my entrails before he stopped coming. When it was over he seemed in a trance. Every few seconds, his hips would jam his cock as deep as it could go, like spasms. Finally when he was cooled off enough to regain his senses he slowly pulled his mammoth meat out of me.
"Slow," I whimpered.
It was a long withdrawal and I hated the emptiness in the wake of it.
"Are you okay?" he asked as his cock popped free.
"Are you?" I asked.
"Yeah, I think so. Tell you in a minute."
"I don't know what the fuck happened to me," I said.
"You mean way up inside of you?"
"I felt it too. It was like I was fucking two assholes," he said.
"I didn't even know I had a second one, but then nobody's ever gone that deep before to discover my second asshole," I said.
"Glad I could oblige," he said. "I liked that dick dance you did for me."
"Yeah, when I was popping in and out of that second hole you turned into a little nymphomaniac, groaning and grunting and dancing around on my cock. It was like fucking a ring of fire."
"It was like getting fucked by a Clydesdale stallion," I said.
"I don't believe I'm saying this...me, John Brocker...but that was the best fuck I've ever hard, bar none. And all the rest were women."
"See what you've missed out on by hating fags?" I chided him.
"Hey, I haven't changed my position about fags, just about you," he said.
"Well, that's a start. One fag at a time," I said. He was still on his hands and knees, hovered over me and the way he was looking at me, I had the wildest sensation that he might lean down and kiss me. But of course, that was an impossible dream.
The next morning we got a lot of ribbing from the other guys about sleeping together and how did things go and who slept on top. Surprisingly, John took it all in stride.
To say I was in love with John Brocker would have been a misstatement, if not a grave mistake. I was growing awfully fond of him, but he was so macho-straight, I wouldn't permit myself to even think about any stronger emotions. Suffice to say, I was the happiest, most contented and satisfied man on the planet. Him and I became more than team mates. We became closer than friends. After a while the other guys noticed it, too, how we always sat together, and always headed to our room together, usually before anyone else. It was like we had known each other all our lives. Certainly, he felt safe and comfortable being himself around me, and I around him. More than once, we fell asleep in the same bed, even when we had two beds in the room, and he didn't get all freaked out if he woke up and found me with my leg or arm thrown across him. It was hard to imagine; only weeks earlier, he would have killed me if I even looked at him cross-eyed, let alone touched him.
We woke up one morning in some motel...I didn't even remember the name of the town...and I was snuggled against him and he had his arm under my head for a pillow. My face was practically in his armpit. His chest was still encrusted with dried come. I slipped out of bed to go take a piss. We needed ice, too, so I slipped on my jeans and got the ice bucket. I was down at the ice machine at the end of the hall, when Kevin Larson came out of his room from way down at the other end of the motel. He was dressed in cut-offs and a T-shirt and sneakers. He had a sly, almost mischievous grin on his face
"What're you doing up and dressed so early," I asked.
That little smile remained on his face. "What the hell are you smiling about so fuckin' early?" I growled.
He shrugged but didn't say. We exchanged small talk.
"Hey, you seem to be getting along real well with Brocker," he remarked.
"He's not such a bad guy when you get to know him," I said.
"I guess you've gotten to know him pretty well, huh?"
"Well, you can't room with a guy and not get to know him," I said.
"Does he still hate fags?" Kevin asked.
"We don't discuss politics," I replied smartly.
"Well, listen...when he goes back to the majors, I would like to room with you," he said.
I was a bit taken aback but I nodded and said, "He doesn't think he's going back, but if he does, I got no problem with us rooming together."
"I'll bet you don't. I'll bet you're gonna hate to see him go back, too." His smile broadened and the corner of his lip sort of curled up.
"What're you getting at?" I asked with a scowl.
"Oh, nothing. I went out to the van to get something and passed by your window. Your curtains are cracked. I saw you all snuggled up with the big stud fag-hater, in the same bed. I guess you guys got used to sleeping in the same back in Podunk."
I felt my face blanch as the blood drained from my head, making me light headed. I couldn't think. Not a dam thing came to mind to say. Suddenly I turned and rushed back to my room. John was awake. I was so shaken that the ice bucket rattled when I set it down. I was having to suck my breath in.
"What's the hell's wrong?" John asked.
I was barely able to get my words out. "The drapes were cracked; Larson saw us in bed together," I said as I rushed over and closed the small crack in the drapes.
"Where is he?" John asked as he jumped out of bed and grabbed his jeans.
"Down at the ice machine."
John rushed out the door, bare-chested and barefoot. I stood there in stunned silence as the door swung part way closed. I went to the door to listen but didn't show myself.
"Hey, Brocker," Kevin greeted him. He was apparently on his way back from the ice machine, for they were close to the door.
"Listen, limp-dick, if you breathe so much as a hint about what you think you saw....not now, not ever....I'll break you into little pieces and throw you under the bus. Got it?"
"Yeah....yeah, I got it," Kevin said in a weak, wavering voice. "Hey, it's none of my fuckin' business."
"That's right. It's none of your fuckin' business and it's gonna stay none of your fuckin' business. Goddam, Larson, I hope you understand what I'm saying, because you do not want to see me get violent. It's not a pretty sight. And no matter what, I will find you."
"I got it, John," he assured him.
I stepped away from the door seconds before John came back in.
"It's taken care of," he said.
"Yeah, I heard," I said. I was still shaking.
John came over and wrapped his powerful arms around me and hugged me tightly to his massive chest. Godd, he felt good, our bare muscles writhing together.
"Calm down, don't worry about it. He's not going to say anything. We just have to be more careful," he said.
I felt myself relaxing in his embrace. Suddenly he ground his crotch against mine and chuckled softly. "Now, don't I get a reward for coming to your rescue?" he said with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Anything you want," I said. His face was so close, tilted down at just the right angle and I thought for a moment that he might kiss me. I almost kissed him. I was glad I didn't. He stepped back and unbuttoned his jeans, glancing at his watch.
"How about we skip breakfast?" he said.
"I've got all I can eat right here," I said, groping his heavy manhood.
He sat on the bed to pull off his jeans then laid back, his legs spread wide. "Come and chow down," he said.
I dropped to my knees beside the bed and lay between his legs.
"Back the first time you did this, you said next time you were going to take me all the way," he reminded me.
"Just don't get hard too quick, and I'll try," I said. I lifted his rubbery cock off his balls and sucked it into my mouth. I would have to work fast, because he was going to get hard fast. I opened my throat and relaxed as much as I could and forced the head of his cock through the opening.
"Ohhhh," he gasped with surprise. "You're gonna do it!"
Along with the pressure, I swallowed, my throat muscles pulling his cock deeper and deeper in my throat. I was making good progress but his cock was getting bigger and harder by the second and I had about five inches to go. I didn't know where the hell it was all going but I didn't care if it ended up in my lungs. Desperately, I forced my mouth down the shaft as my lips became more and more distended around the widening girth. With a good two inches remaining, I was near panic with the prospect of defeat.
"Fuck, man, don't stop...you're gonna do it," John said hoarsely, and he put his hands around my head and forced me to success. His cock bored up into my throat the final two inches and my face was smashed against his pubes, my chin against his balls and I was literally impaled on the biggest cock I'd ever seen.
"Fuckin' AAAAA. Awwwhhhh, this is a record! This is phenomenal!" he cried softly as he ground his butt muscles in the mattress to move his cock within my throat.
I held him as long as I could but the size of his cock squeezed off all air passages and I couldn't breathe. I rose up off of his cock, slowly, carefully. It was such a tight fit I was afraid he would turn my throat inside out. The head finally popped back through my throat opening and filled my mouth. I rose up, wiping my eyes, swallowing to make sure my throat still worked.
"Goddam!" I swore, eyeing the impossibly huge cock.
"Shit, nobody's ever done that," he said.
"I'm probably the first one to try," I said.
"Oh, fuck! Thanks! Now if you could just learn to take it like that when I'm hard."
"Don't thank me, and don't count on it," I said.
"I just want to remember that couple of minutes when you did," he said. "Godd, I almost freaked out when I looked down and my cock was gone! Hey, I didn't hurt you throat, did I?"
"It might be sore for a while," I said. I went back down on him even though I knew there wasn't time to finish him off. In the end I had to leave him high and dry, and hard. It was fun to see him trying to stuff his cock, along with his balls, inside his jockstrap then get the cup positioned around all that bulk. Even confined like that, the bulk of his manhood forced the cup forward, causing a large protrusion in the front of his uniform pants. But Brocker didn't mind. He wore it proudly.
There wasn't a hint of evidence that Larson said anything to any of the rest of the players. He was a little skittish around Brocker, though, although he tried not to show it. He tried to buddy up to me, for obvious reasons, but I kept my distance, at least as long as Brocker was my roommate.
Another time in another motel in another nameless town, John lay beside me breathing hard after giving me the fuck of my life.
"Fuck, man, the way your ass sucks the come out of my balls it feels like you're gonna pull 'em right up through my cock," he said breathlessly.
"I can only suck out what's in 'em," I said. "And it feels like about a quart."
He was quiet for a moment, then said, "I've got a question; I'm curious about something."
"Well, guys aren't built like women, but when I'm fucking you, you're moaning and whimpering and telling me how good it is, and to fuck you harder. What's in there that makes it feel so good? I mean, I know you don't have a clit or anything."
I smiled, but not too broadly; I didn't want him to think I was making fun of him. "I could show you," I offered.
"I don't think so," he said emphatically.
"I don't mean that way," I said. "You like my tongue in your ass."
"Well, then you know that guys have feelings in their ass."
"Yeah, but your tongue don't hurt. I know my cock tears you apart, but you still take it and after a little bit......."
"It's like losing my virginity every time you fuck me," I put in. "The pain is right at my asshole, and it goes away once you get me stretched to fit, then the nerve endings kick in. And, there's a spot up inside me that drives me nuts when you cock slides back and forth across it. That's what I was talking about showing you; the nerve endings all the way, and the spot in deeper, where I can't reach with my tongue. I know you would never let me fuck you, but I can show you with my finger. It wouldn't hurt, and it wouldn't be like you were getting fucked."
He didn't say anything for a moment. He was thinking about what I said.
"Maybe I'll let you try it next time," he said finally.
Next time came a few hours later, when we both came awake in the early morning hours. Actually, I came awake down between his legs with his warm cock throbbing against my face, and he woke up when I opened my mouth and let it find its way inside. I sucked him languidly, almost sleepily, relishing every stroke and every throb. I sucked his balls, and after our conversation earlier, braved to venture deeper behind them. He allowed me the freedom to lick his ass but seemed to be tense about me getting my tongue inside him. I didn't rush things. I alternated between his ass and his cock and his balls, keeping my mouth and tongue busy, as well as my hands and fingers. In a manner, I was trying to confuse him so he didn't know where I was coming at him next. Very gradually, I used copious spit to lubricate between his butt muscles till I finally touched my fingertip to the pucker of his asshole. He jumped and tightened his butt muscles but quickly relaxed. I gently massaged his hole and he relaxed more. I kept massaging, pushing my fingertip against the spongy muscle and he slowly spread his legs out. All the while, I kept sucking his cock, and his balls when I needed more spit to run down into the crack of his ass.
Finally, I bit the bullet. I pressed my fingertip through the tight pucker. He winced and grabbed my wrist.
"Come on, relax. It's not gonna hurt," I said.
I pushed a little deeper through the hole, barely past the first knuckle. He still held onto my wrist, but not as tight.
"If I can take your cock, you sure as hell can take my finger," I told him.
I might have shamed him; he let go of my wrist and spread his legs out wider. From there, it was a go. He didn't try to stop me anymore. I worked my middle finger inside him as far as I could reach and moved it around ever so gently.
"Hhhoooonhhh!" he gasped softly.
"Yeah, feel those nerve endings?" I cooed. "Just wait till I find your love nut."
I didn't rush the search. I knew where it was, but I wanted the anticipation to build up. I kept moving my finger around inside him, moving in and out very little because I didn't want to give the impression that he was being fucked, even with my finger. It was enough for the moment, for soon, John was starting to squirm around on my finger.
Before I went on the search, I gradually worked a second finger inside him. When he winced, I told him even my two fingers weren't a fraction of the size of his cock, and I think that shamed him into letting me continue. I danced my two fingers around inside him like two big worms making love. John was squirming and actually riding down on my fingers, like he was fucking them. Finally, I began the search for his prostate. I moved my fingers carefully and slowly. I barely touched it and he gave a start and a soft gasp.
"That didn't hurt, did it?"
"No it.....what the hell was that you touched just then?"
"Your love nut. Your prostate. It's gonna drive you nuts."
I found it again and rubbed the tips of my fingers all over it.
"Ooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" John moaned softly.
With that surprised moan, I knew I had him. I began massaging his prostate with both fingers, gently, then harder, then not at all. I waited a few seconds then made contact again.
"Awwwhhhhhhh! Ohh, Geezussssss!" he cried out.
Very gradually, I increased the pressure and the intensity, and before long he was bearing down on my fingers and twisting his butt around on my hand. I was all but fucking John Brocker, I just wasn't using my cock. I had the foolish notion that it would a simple matter to replace my fingers with my cock and fuck him for real but I didn't have the courage to back up that notion.
"Oh, Godd! Ohh, fuck! Awwwhhh, shit, man, I can't stand much more!"
"Want me to stop?" I asked as I gently squeezed his love nut with my two fingers.
"No! No, fuck, no, don't stop!" he growled, clawing the sheets. Then suddenly, he exploded. Great ropes of come shot out like somebody had turned on the hose to a semen tank. The stuff sprayed and splattered everywhere. I'd never seen anything like it. I kept it up with my fingers till he was whimpering and groaning incoherently, and groping blindly for my wrist.
"Oh, that's enough! No more!" he cried, grabbing my wrist in his vise-like grip to pull my fingers out of his ass. I snuggled up and buried my face in the apex of his powerful legs and lovingly lapped at his quivering ass. "Dam, dude, you could almost make a guy beg for the real thing, doing that," he said.
I think in that moment he meant it, but beyond that brief moment, there was no way.
The season ended and we were due to head back home. We celebrated the last night in a little town back in Missouri. Coach broke the rules and told John he could come along with the rest of the team. The happening place was a small pub called Jimmy's Place. The patrons welcomed us like heroes even though we had beaten their team. There weren't enough women to go around and most of those were practically climbing all over Brocker. He was once again in his element. I was feeling down because I figured I would be spending our last night on somebody's floor. If John took those women back to our room, he was going to be busy all night. There were a couple of women who made it known that they were interested in me. John saw it and he came down the bar and smacked my butt and leaned over to whisper in my ear.
"You wanta take two or three of these chicks back to our room and trade back and forth?"
I was jolted with excitement from the suggestion but I quickly declined. I wasn't sure I could even perform with a woman in John's presence. He was so damned intimidating and I was afraid I couldn't stand up next to him. I didn't want the humiliation.
"Naw, you can have the room, though," I said, saddened that I had just threw the night away.
I was shocked when John came over to me again and told me he was going back to the room. "How many women are you taking with you?" I asked.
"None. I'm just going back," he said.
I was suddenly uplifted again. Was he going back empty-handed so we could spend the last night together?
"I'll go with you," I said, quickly downing my beer.
We took a cab out to the motel. Inside our room, John went over and made sure the curtains were completely closed. I was encouraged. He rummaged around in his bag and brought out a small box.
"Here, I got you something," he said.
I scowled with surprise. It was an underwear box; one with a very muscular model wearing a jockstrap. I opened the box and took out the jock. I was so touched I started to well up. Then I shook it out and there was his autograph sewn into the pouch.
"A John Brocker original," he said.
"Thanks," I said. "You don't know what this means to me."
"Well, it's something to remember me by," he said. "You've got my name right there around your cock."
"As if I could ever forget you," I said.
"Put it on," he said as he started taking off his clothes.
"Why didn't you take advantage of the opportunity to have an orgy with those women?" I asked as I started stripping.
"I wanted to spend the last night with you," he said. "All those women put together couldn't do for me what you do."
"Careful, you're going to be laying off of women for good," I joked. I pulled the jock on and arranged my manhood inside. His signature spread diagonally across the pouch.
"Looks good," he said as he casually slipped his fingers inside the waistband and gave it a heft upward.
I was stunned that he touched me like that.
"Hey, maybe I could market those," he said. "Do you think there are guys out there who pay, say twenty bucks, to stuff their cocks into a John Brocker jockstrap."
"More than you know," I said.
"Maybe I'll do it. Set up a web-site." He eyed me. "Fuck, you look good in that," he said. "I want to fuck you. I won't be so rough, `cause I wanta fuck you all night long. I want to pop that drum head wide open."
I was ready. I started to take the jockstrap off.
"Leave it on," he said. "It won't be in the way. I wanta fuck a jock."
"You have to save one load for me," I said.
"Save it for what?"
"To take with me," I said. "I wanta suck your cock and when you get close, I want to slip a condom on and let you come in it. I can take a load home with me."
"What the hell are you going to do with a condom full of my come? It's gonna get pretty rank pretty quick."
"I don't know...I just want it. And I can keep the condom."
"Hey, you can have all the condoms you want. I'll use `em on you if you want me to, then you can have `em. Hell, we might fill one completely before the night's over."
"One? We'll need a quart jar if I'm going to save all of it," I said.
There were no pretenses, now, no inhibitions. He said he wanted to fuck me and that's all it was. The only emotions would be what we made each other feel in the process. I knew it wasn't love, it was sex. I lubed up my ass and squeezed some lube on his fingers.
"Front or back?" I asked.
"Any way you want it," he said. "I intend to have you in every position known to man, anyway, then make up some of my own."
"Godd, they're going to have to carry me out of here on a stretcher tomorrow morning," I said.
John fucked my eyeballs out. I forgot how many times. We didn't bother counting except that I made sure he wore a condom two of the times. I took the second one and carefully dumped the come into the first one and tied it off. I washed the empty one out and dried it off.
After breakfast the next morning I walked to the bus under my own power but there was a terrible emptiness inside me; an emptiness that extended beyond my ass. He had filled me with something more than his cock and I was going to miss it terribly. We tossed our bags in the luggage compartment and found our seats. John led the way clear to the back of the bus and took the seat by the window. He patted the seat next to him for me to sit down. It was going to be a long drive. All day and well into the night. We settled in for the trip.
The noise calmed to quiet conversation after about the first twenty miles. Then guys just sat and looked out the window, or dozed off to sleep. John and I talked between ourselves, about his career, how he got there, about his high school career and his many failed love affairs.
"I can't seem to keep a good woman," he said.
"What the hell do you need a woman for when you've got your pick of hundreds?" I asked. "Figure it out, John, no woman is going to want to settle down with you as long as you're playing baseball. Shit, with your reputation, any woman knows she can't compete, and she sure as hell can't trust you."
"Yeah, baseball marriages don't seem to last long," he admitted.
We stopped for lunch, stretched our legs and resumed the journey. We started the last leg of the journey after supper, about 8:00, when the sun was going down. John lay back in the seat with his knees against the back of the seat in front of him. He was crowded. I pushed my seat back and closed my eyes. It was enough, because it had to be, to be sitting beside the big stud. After a while he dropped his left leg and his knee fell against mine. I didn't move away and neither did he. A stark difference from when the season began when we sat down in a booth in that restaurant and he jerked his knee away. I was startled to feel a slight pressure against my knee. I gave some pressure back and John cocked his head around and grinned at me. The pressure kept up and he began raising and lowering his foot, rubbing his knee against mine. I boldly put my hand on his thigh. He didn't move or even flinch. He flexed his thigh muscle. I squeezed the muscle and he flexed it again. I drew my hand up his thigh to his crotch. It was full and rubbery hard. Things advanced rather quickly and the next thing I knew,
John was undoing his jeans and pulling his fly open. I shoved my hand down inside his shorts and got a handful of man meat. His cock pulsated in my hand. He was getting a hardon and it wasn't going to be contained in those shorts. My mind raced with some way to go down on him. I could jack him off, but he would spray the fuckin' bus when he shot off. Suddenly, he brought his other leg down and leaned up over the back of the seat.
"Hey, numb-nuts, how about you move up front so I can lay my legs over the back of the seat," he told the guy in front of him.
Without a word, Tony Bright got up and moved several seats forward. There were four empty seats in front of us, and nobody was sitting to the side.
We were essentially alone in the back of the bus. John lay his seat back and cocked his legs up over the back of the seat. He reached over and got my hand and placed it on his cock. I felt around to find that he had shoved his shorts and jeans down to his knees! Everything was hanging bare. I wrapped my hand around his cock. He put his hand over mine and moved it up my arm and shoulder, urging me to move out of my seat. The only place I could go was on my knees on the floor of the bus between John's thighs. There wasn't much room between the seats and my head was back against his jeans that were around his knees. He reached up and shoved them down a little more. I wondered what the hell we would do if anybody came back there. As I squeezed into the small space on my knees, I didn't care. I drank in the aroma of his maleness, mixed with the good-smelling body splash. His cock loomed up over my face. I sucked on his balls. He looked out the window and put his hand over his mouth to quiet his groans. John shoved his cock toward me and I took it in my mouth as far as I could. It throbbed in appreciation and he settled his butt in the seat for the ride. I sucked him, I figured, for fifty or sixty miles; easily more than an hour. Neither of us was in any rush for him to finish. I relished every stroke, every throb of his huge cock. I ran my hands up under his shirt and squeezed his pecs and flicked his nipples. He let out a little gasp. I wished I had shown him how sensitive his nipples were, but for some reason, I never got around to sucking his tits. Suddenly he started squirming his butt around in the seat, then he was thrashing it, and he put his hand on my head to let me know he was coming. I braced myself. I couldn't choke or gag. I had to quietly take his load and swallow every mouthful. If I didn't there would be a mess that we would have to explain. I was up to the challenge. Not that I had any choice. He was humping his butt up out of the seat, fucking my mouth. Suddenly his cock exploded. Literally exploded in my mouth. Three spurts filled my mouth and I gulped it down. He gave me three more. I swirled it around his cock before I swallowed it. I held the last two in my mouth and sucked up the come that was still boiling out of his cock. I savored the last of his load, swirling it around his cock. He let me do that for several miles before his cock finally began to go down. As it lost its hardness, I forced my mouth down the shaft and swallowed his cock all the way to his balls, still holding his come in my mouth. I held him deep in my throat for a mile or two then slowly pulled off of it. It fell heavily over his balls and John let out a soft sigh. I wriggled out of the tight spot and got back in my seat. John pulled his legs off the back of his seat and rose up to pull his jeans and shorts back up.
"Thanks, man," he whispered as he settled back in his seat.
I nodded. I couldn't speak; I still had a mouthful of his come.
"You still holding it?" he whispered.
I nodded again.
I let the warm, thick come trickle down my throat, making it last for a good many miles. I let out a little sigh of satisfaction when it was all gone.
"Fuck, are you just now getting rid of it?" he whispered.
"Hell, you've got a condom full of the stuff," he said.
"That's for later," I said.
"You're fuckin' crazy," he said, laughing.
"But you like it."
"Yeah...yeah, I like it," he said, reaching over to squeeze my leg.
We pulled into town at some terrible hour of the morning. Guys stumbled off the bus, half asleep and stiff from the ride. There was an awkward moment of silence and milling around. The season was over and we would be going our separate ways. There was nobody there to welcome us home; no cheering fans to celebrate our victories. It was okay. I had my own victory.
When it was time to part, John went around shaking everybody's hand and everybody hugged goodbye. He came over to me last and just stood there and looked at me with that little lop-sided grin.
"Fucker...it's been fun," he said.
"It's been more than that," I said.
"Yeah, but not so we can talk about it here," he said quietly. "You've got my address and phone number."
"Yeah. You don't want mine?"
"No. You gotta contact me," he said.
"As if I won't."
"I don't know if you will or not," he said. "I haven't changed my mind about things."
"Yes, you have," I said.
"Okay, maybe, a little."
"A lot," I said. "You don't hate us as much as you did before."
He didn't shake my hand. He pulled me against him in a tight hug, his powerful arms wrapped around my shoulders. He made it a full-body hug, pressing his entire body hard against mine, even pressing his manhood against mine and doing a little twist with his hips. I was shocked.
"Hope this doesn't embarrass you," he whispered.
"Let's go Brocker if you want to catch the van to the bus station," the coach said.
"Hey, where're you going, anyway?" I asked.
"Shit, I don't know. Back to the ball club and see what they wanta do with me. I expect there's going to be a big hassle over my contract."
"Hey, you've always got autographed jockstraps," I said, laughing.
He punched me playfully in the stomach then gave me a little wave and walked toward the van. I stood and watched his tight, round butt churning inside his jeans, and those long, powerfully muscles thighs flexing inside the snug denim. I watched till the van pulled away and it was then that I realized my eyes were misting up.
"Okay, he's gone."
I jerked around to find Kevin Larson standing there. He smiled.
"Hey, are we still on as room mates?" he asked.
"Good. There's stuff I wanta ask you...and tell you....." His voice sort of lingered and faded off.
I didn't ask him what. I was pretty sure what he wanted to ask me and tell me. I was pretty sure that our rooming together wasn't going to be a one-sided thing.
Epilogue: I wrote to John about a week after I got home. It was sort of a nice, general letter, asking about what was happening in his life. I knew a lot of what was going on from reading the sports page but I knew there was always a lot more than they told the press. It was nearly a month before he wrote back. It was more a note than a letter but I was thankful to get it.
Got your letter. It was good to hear from you. You were right, there's a lot more than what's getting in the papers. I'm in the middle of negotiating out of my contract, which shouldn't surprise you. My agent says I'll get enough to retire nicely. Retirement wasn't really what it was all about, though. I liked playing baseball. I don't know if I'll go to another team or not. I've still got autographed jockstraps!
I'm dating a girl who doesn't give a shit that I'm John Brocker, the baseball player. She doesn't even like baseball! I'll let you know if it gets serious. If it gets that serious, I want you at my wedding. I don't know if this is right to say, but even if I get married...well, you know no woman can do what you did for me, so I want to keep in touch, if you do. Have a great life, just don't write me out of it.
Your team mate,
Yeah, I went to his wedding. I was a groomsman, in fact. He put me up in a hotel and I can tell you I didn't spend the night alone. We had his bachelor party and when he took me back to the hotel, he came right on in. I gave him a good send-off to being a married man.
Really The End
(If you liked the story-or if you didn't-I would appreciate hearing from you at [email protected] Especially if you've had anything like this happen to you, or anything close; I would like to hear about it. I get a lot of my inspiration and ideas from readers).