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I woke up the next morning to the wonderful feeling of Mr. Williams kissing my cheek.
“Hey stud.” He whispered into my ear.
I turned to look up at him and smiled. “Hey yourself. That’s a nice way to wake up.”
I yawned as I looked around the hotel room. Coach Jackson’s mighty frame was leaning half-way off the tiny twin bed with Brad nuzzled up next to him. I don’t know how the two of them fit but they had made it work.
Brad opened his eyes as Mr. Williams and I cooed in each other’s ear, lovingly. He turned is head to Coach Jackson, still snoozing.
“Hey.” He swatted him on the shoulder. “Wake up, you big oaf.”
Coach Jackson was jerked awake and he stared around the room. He looked down at Brad and rolled his eyes. “That’s a shitty way to wake up.”
“Yeah, well consider it payback for trying to sleep with your big ass taking up the whole bed.” Brad replied, nudging him on the side playfully.
“Oh fuck off, Williams, save your attitude until after I’ve had my fucking cup of coffee.” Coach Jackson spat, wiping the sleep out of his eyes.
Mr. Williams couldn’t help but laugh. “The guy hasn’t been awake for 30 seconds and already two f-bombs.”
“Sorry Mike.” Coach Jackson grunted. “This asshole kid of yours brings it out of me.” He pushed against Brad, irritated. “Would you move the fuck out of my way? I’m hanging off the edge here.”
“It’s a twin bed, Coach. You move.” Brad replied, pushing him back.
I watched the two of them push each other around as they bickered but I wasn’t buying it. Not after that moment I had witnessed last night. The soft ‘I love you’ into each other’s ear as Brad slowly eased his way in and out of him when they thought Mr. Williams and I were fast asleep. After the amount of sex they’d had over the day yesterday that wasn’t about just blowing a load to them. That was making love. They could fight the whole entire way back to Sacramento, hell knowing them they probably would, but that wouldn’t change the amount of love and tenderness I had seem them display last night. I think this trip had really opened their eyes. Brad and I would be moving away. I think the two of them were really starting to understand the impact of that. Just how much they were going to miss each other.
Their swatting at each other as they wrestled for territory got a little rougher and Brad realized he had bitten off a little more than he could chew when Coach Jackson easily overpowered him.
“Alright alright, truce, Coach.” He laughed.
“Mmmhmm.” Coach Jackson smirked at him. “It’s about time you realized when it’s anything physical, I win, kid.”
“Yeah yeah.” Brad rolled his eyes.
“I gotta take a piss.” Coach Jackson grunted, throwing the sheet off of his mountainous frame. The second he started to hoist himself off of the bed, he winced.
Mr. Williams and I jumped up, alarmed.
“What is it, Dan?”
“Jesus Christ!” Coach Jackson cursed, steadying himself. “I’m so fucking sore. . .”
“Where, Coach?” Brad asked, concerned.
“I got my cunt stuffed with an 11 incher and then came back here and got double fucked all night long, where the fuck do you think, Williams?” He spat back.
Mr. Williams tried to suppress a laugh next to me and I squeezed his arm to stop him.
Brad opened up his arms, guiltily. “Aw, come back to bed, Coach. Let me make it feel better.”
“You stay the fuck away from me, you understand me, kid?” Coach Jackson told him, pointing his finger at him. “You did this to me and I know you’re gonna want more because you’re Brad fucking Williams and apparently need to get laid around the fucking clock.” He slowly made his way to the bathroom. “Christ. . .”
“Are you going to be okay, Coach?” I asked him as he got to the door.
“You’re just as guilty as Williams is, Africa, so you stay the fuck away from me. Christ, and I took Mike last night too, didn’t I? Fuck, I feel like I’m gonna have to fight you people of with a fucking stick just to make sure I don’t get mounted again before I leave this hotel room.”
“Come on, Coach, on a scale from one to ten how serious are you being right now?” Brad asked, not sure if he was joking.
He turned back to him. “I mean it, Williams.” Coach Jackson replied, seriously. “You’re cut off until further notice. Find some other poor sucker that will put out for you.”
Brad got out of bed and went over to him, hugging him. “But what if I don’t want any other poor sucker to put out for me. What if I want you to put out for me.” He batted his eyes. “You know how much you turn me on.”
“You know maybe cutting you off for a couple of days would do you some good, Williams.” Coach Jackson smirked. “Teach you some fucking respect and make you realize how good you have it.”
“I guess I’ll just give Greg Foster a call when I get home then.” Brad shrugged, nonchalantly. “That guy usually picks up on the first ring. He’d be more than happy to take my load if needed.”
Coach Jackson immediately straightened up, looking a little peeved. “But- but that’s my load.”
“I gotta say, Coach, you’re giving me mixed signals here.” Brad chided him, loving this. He turned to us, adding, “I love how jealous he gets for my cock.”
“I’m not fucking jealous, Williams, I just want you to put your load in me, not Greg Foster.” Coach Jackson muttered, crossing his arms.
“God you’re stubborn.” Brad laughed, leaning in to kiss him. “Relax, Coach. The second you’re back in business, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” He reached down and ran his hand over the man’s hole, causing him to wince. “But in the mean time, I’m going to have to use whatever options I have available.” He stepped past him and opened the door to the bathroom. “You can piss after me.” He shut the door in his face.
Coach Jackson clenched his fists, breathing in and out, listening as Brad’s healthy stream sounded from the toilet. “Christ, if my cunt wasn’t so fucking sore I’d be putting out for that kid so hard right now. . . Cocky little fucker. . . gets me every goddamn time.”
Mr. Williams laughed, looking down at me. “Were you able to follow any of that?”
“With those two? Never.” I laughed.
We heard the toilet flush and Brad emerged, drying his hands after a quick rinse.
“Hey.” He leaned in to kiss Coach Jackson gently. “I’m sorry you’re sore, Coach. God, you were hot this weekend. I’ve never been more proud to call you my boyfriend. I love it when you slut out like that.”
“Fuck, I love how much I turn you on, Williams.” Coach Jackson replied, pulling at his lip.
“What do you say I stay at your place tonight and take care of you? You know, do all the heavy lifting and let you relax.”
“Well it’s the least you can do.” Coach Jackson replied, crossing his arms.
“Great.” Brad grinned, kissing him one last time. “I’m looking forward to it. I like taking care of my guy.”
“Wait a minute son, I believe it’s a school night?” Mr. Williams interjected.
“I’m already in college, Dad.” Brad shrugged. “And hey, Coach has made it pretty clear he’s not putting out tonight. I’ll be in bed by 10.”
Mr. Williams looked over at Coach Jackson. “Dan? Do you promise to keep things PG tonight? No funny business?”
Coach Jackson shifted a little. “Well now that you’re telling me we can’t fuck it just really makes me want him to fuck me. . .”
“Dan?” Mr. Williams responded sternly.
“Alright fine.” He sighed. “Trust me, Mike. You didn’t even see what went down in that office yesterday. . . I don’t think I’ll ever be the same down there again.” He turned to Brad. “I hope you know I’m putting you to work tonight, kid. Got some chores for you to do around the house and I figure you owe me after everything I did for you this weekend.”
“Totally worth it, Coach.” Brad patted him on the back. “And besides. . . I like spending time with you. And I like that you need me to take care of you. I want to. You deserve to be treated like a king.”
“Fuck. . .” Coach Jackson muttered. “If I could just get you to say that over and over again I wouldn’t even need to jack off.”
Brad gave him a hard spank. “Who are you kidding, Coach? With the amount of time you spend with your legs in the air you don’t need to jack off as is.”
The next few weeks seemed to fly by as the end of our senior year approached.
I was laying in bed while Mr. Williams brushed his teeth, waiting for him to join me. I heard him finish rinsing his mouth and he emerged from the bathroom, nothing but a tight pair of boxer briefs covering him up. He’d been hitting the gym with Coach Jackson lately and if he had had a great body before, now he looked like a movie star. The guy was starting to get actual abs. In his 40’s. And he’s a computer nerd! God, I love him.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He laughed as he got into bed.
“You’re just so good-looking Mr. Williams. . .” I said under my breath, leaning in to kiss him and run my hands over his chest.
I could almost feel his cheeks blushing against mine as I made out with him. Mike Williams was a modest man. He didn’t really know how to handle being complimented like this. It’s part of what made me love him so much.
“I mean it.” I said, rolling on top of him and leaning down to kiss him. “Thirty years from now I still won’t be able to get over how attracted I am to you.”
“Thirty years?” He laughed. “Didn’t know you had a thing for that kind of stuff.”
I stopped my assault of his lips and looked at him, taking every handsome feature in that he had to offer. “I bet you in thirty years I’ll be just as much in love with you as I am now, Mr. Williams.”
At that moment I felt something throb against my rear. I realized I was sitting right over his crotch.
He reached around my neck and pulled me to him, kissing me on the lips. I groaned into him as I instinctively rocked my body up and down on his lap.
His hands wandered down my back until they reached my ass and he grabbed it, hungrily.
We continued to make out with one another as we enjoyed the touch of each other’s bodies. He broke away for a moment looking into my eyes. “I want to fuck you tonight, Ollie.” He ran his hand between my legs, massaging me and making me feel at ease.
As a response I leaned in and kissed him, slipping down my underwear and reaching down to feel his big erection pressed up against me. I had enjoyed bottoming for my man on Valentine’s Day and the thought of letting him fuck me again was suddenly extremely appealing to me. Not only would I do anything for this man, but the way Mr. Williams made love was so incredibly sexy and pleasurable. . . it was a mystery why I hadn’t been on bottom again since then.
I reached into the bedside table next to our bed and handed him the lube. It was almost ceremonial. For so long I had been the one who got him ready for me. It was my cock that needed to be slicked for entry. But not this time. He gave me a smoldering look as he lubed himself up before passing it to me, placing it in my hand and kissing me gently. Yeah. I definitely liked this side of him that was coming out. A lot.
Once I was ready for him he leaned up and pressed his lips against mine and gently lay me down so my head was resting on top of the pillow. Looking up at his handsome face above me, it just clicked in my head why he liked this so much. The love I felt for him as he pressed his cock against my hole, wanting to use my body to make him feel good and knowing he would use his body to make mine feel good in return.
He slowly entered me, leaning down to kiss me as he pressed forward. He was paying close attention to my every move, stopping when I breathed in heavily or winced. I knew that he would never hurt me, and that feeling allowed me to give myself to him fully.
When he was finally all the way inside of me I was in heaven. The pain had long subsided and had instead been replaced with an intensely pleasurable feeling.
My own rock-hard cock throbbed against my abs but I made no move to touch it. I wanted this to last. Instead, I brought my hands up this face and stroked his cheek lovingly, kissing him.
Yeah. . . I liked this side of him. I liked it a lot. I had never enjoyed bottoming before I met Mike Williams. But he was different. Not that I’m surprised. Mike Williams just had a way about him that makes anything feel right.
After the final practice before the last game of his high school career Brad Williams walked through the glass doors of the Foster Electronics corporate offices and rode the elevator up, hands in his pockets. The elevator stopped on various floors, with top executives in fancy suits stepping off and on as they went about their work day, nodding to him in a masculine manner as he casually waited for his stop. He seemed to stick out among them, being 18 for one, and being dressed in his sweaty clothes after a particularly grueling football practice. Not that he cared.
He got off on his floor and stepped up to the reception desk.
“I’m here to see Greg Foster, please.” He announced politely.
The receptionist looked him over and found him vaguely familiar. She pressed a button on her phone console. “Mr. Foster, there’s someone here to see you, sir.” She noted his attire and smiled. “From the school football team.”
There was a slight pause and then Greg Foster’s voice rang out from the machine. “Jason’s here? What a surprise! Send him in, Sheryl.”
The receptionist gestured to the door and Brad walked through, turning into the executive’s office.
Greg Foster was sitting at his desk, looking over portfolios in great detail. “Hey Jace, glad you came by, I was thinking-“ He stopped as he looked up. “Brad Williams. . .” He said under his breath, his face flushing. “I- I didn’t know you were coming here.”
Brad sat down in one of the fancy couches and grinned. “I just got out of practice and I’m in the mood for CEO pussy.” He grabbed one of the decorative glass orbs off of the man’s desk and tossed it in his hand. “You wouldn’t happen to know of any hot-shot executives slutty enough to put out for a horny high school jock at a moment’s notice, would you Mr. F?”
“I- uhhh. . .” Mr. Foster stammered, tensing up.
“Aww, don’t be shy.” Brad laughed, standing up and making his way over to him. “It’s not like this is the first time you’ve given it up in this office.” He reached down to cop a feel of the man’s trousers, running his hand across the taint waiting inside.
Greg Foster groaned audibly.
“It certainly sounds like you’d be interested in helping me out.” Brad grinned, leaning down to kiss the man’s neck.
“Aw fuck. . .” Mr. Foster huffed, throwing his head back and letting the horny quarterback feel him up.
“That’s a good cockslut.” Brad muttered into his ear as he started unbuttoning the man’s shirt.
“I- I uhhh. . .” Mr. Foster stammered, tensing up. He was clearly nervous about something.
“What’s wrong, Mr. F?” Brad asked, teasing him as he reached the bottom button and started on his slacks. “I’m not going to find some other dude’s load in there already, am I? Because you know that’ll just make me want it even more.”
“No, it’s not that. . . It- It’s just-“
Brad unzipped the man’s slacks and was dumbfounded for what awaited him. Instead of the usual 100$ designer briefs he was expecting to find, he was faced with something even more familiar. Brad Williams’s old, used jockstrap was stretched around the CEO executive’s ass.
“Oh this is too good. . .” Brad said, loving this. He hooked his hand inside and snapped it against the man’s skin, making him wince.
“I- I didn’t mean to wear it like this. . . “ He stammered. “I would never pretend-“
“You don’t have to apologize for a thing, Mr. F.” Brad replied, grinning. “So fucking hot. . . Hot shot CEO. . . Could afford the absolute best and instead he’s wearing my old jockstrap. . .”
Greg Foster gulped, nervously.
“Man, I bet you didn’t even wash it, did you?”
“Never.” The businessman almost gasped, as if the idea was a mortal sin.
“How many important meetings did you have today?” Brad asked him, gesturing for him to spread his legs so he could run his hand along the man’s opening.
“Four. Five. At least.” He replied, spreading his legs for him instinctually.
“And these were multi-million dollar accounts, I’m guessing?” Brad asked, continuing to grope him.
“Of course.” Greg Foster nodded. “I signed a $250 million account this afternoon.”
“And the whole time, you were sitting there with my jockstrap on, getting my scent all over you? No one had a clue?”
The handsome executive nodded, staring at the floor.
“Man, that’s so hot.” Brad muttered, shaking his head. “You must have been really hoping for a while now I’d be coming by wanting some more of this CEO pussy, huh Mr. F?”
“God yeah.” Greg Foster nodded, almost with a whimper. “Giving it up for you is just about all I can think about these days.”
“Aw, we can’t have that now, can we? You’ve got a company to run here.” His hand retreated from the man’s opening and he stood up again. “I think I should leave you to it so you can get back to work.”
“NO!” Mr. Foster yelled to stop him, standing up. “Please. . .”
“Please what, Mr. F?” Brad replied, turning back.
“You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”
“Please use me to get off, Brad Williams.” Greg Foster begged, his shirt hanging open and his pants around his ankles. There was already a spot forming where the tip of his cock pressed against the jockstrap. “Please. . .”
Brad stood there and pondered for a moment, loving this.
“Please. . .” The man whimpered, looking up at him.
“Man, you must really love this jock dick, don’t you, Mr. F?”
“I- I. . .” He started, unable to find the words to describe his addiction to serving Brad Williams’s cock. He came to the conclusion that nothing would suffice.
“Do you jack off thinking about my cock?” Brad asked him, reaching down and grabbing the mound forming in his pants for effect.
“Oh god yes.” Mr. Foster replied, practically licking his lips.
“Did you jack off thinking about my cock last night?”
“Yes.” Mr. Foster admitted.
“Have you jacked off thinking about my cock in this office?”
“Yes. . .” Mr. Foster said quietly, looking down at the floor.
“Have you jacked off thinking about my cock in this office. . . today?”
The man’s face turned red.
“After my second meeting.” Greg Foster replied. “10:15 this morning.”
“Fuck, that’s so hot.” Brad shook his head, amazed.
“And- and then again during my lunch break.”
“Unbelievable. . . Tell me what we were doing.”
Greg Foster looked away from him, as if he was pouring out his deepest, darkest fantasies. “Well- well first you had me suck you off.”
“Right here?” Brad asked, pointing to the couch he had been sitting on.
The man shook his head. His eyes darted toward his own chair in front of his desk.
Brad walked up to it and sat down, throwing his feet on the executive’s desk, brushing away loose papers and portfolios. “And did I make you swallow my load or did I shoot it inside your cunt, Mr. F?”
“Both. . .” The handsome executive replied, his cock jumping in the warn jockstrap.
“I must have really put your lips to work, huh? Mouth and pussy.” Brad smirked, gesturing the man over.
He reached out and traced is hand over his old jockstrap currently stretched around the distinguished executive. “This isn’t the first time you’ve warn one of my jocks and jacked off in this office thinking about putting out for me, is it Mr. F?”
The man looked down at the floor again, shaking his head.
“How many loads do you think you’ve blown in this office thinking about me? 5? 10?”
“Hundreds. . .” The executive replied quietly.
“Holy shit.” Brad said, stepping back for a second. His eyes drifted to the drawers along the desk and before the man could stop him, he pulled them open.
“Too easy. . .” Brad grinned, reaching inside the bottom one and holding a whopping 10-inch dildo in his hands.
The wealthy executive couldn’t even respond.
“So tell me, Mr. F.” Brad said, holding the massive toy in one hand and reaching down to pull his own hard cock out through his pants and looking the dildo over. “Do you want to spend the next half hour whoring yourself out to this or the real thing?”
The CEO’s mouth was on his cock before he even finished his sentence.
When Brad got home he found Coach Jackson, Mr. Williams and I out on the patio laughing with each other while Mr. Williams was marinating steaks for dinner in a couple hours.
“Hey son.” Mr. Williams smiled at him as Brad sat down in between Coach Jackson and me. “We were wondering where you’d been.”
“I bet I can guess. . .” Coach Jackson muttered under his breath, looking a little peeved.
“Aw, don’t be jealous, Coach.” Brad laughed, kissing him. “You know there’s enough of Brad Williams to keep everyone happy.”
“Was it Jason?” I asked him, knowing Brad thought our teammate was even sexier than usual when he was all hot and sweaty from practice.
“Nah, not this time.” Brad shook his head. “I wanted someone who would really worship my cock so I swung by his dad’s office and dumped a couple of loads in him after practice. The dude’s so grateful for my cock, he would have gotten on his knees and swallowed a third load if I had let him.”
I noticed Coach Jackson crossing his arms, this conversation clearly having some sort of effect on him.
“You okay, Coach?” I asked him.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He grunted. “I let Williams do what he wants. To tell you the truth part of me gets turned when he makes another poor sucker put out for him. Still wish it was me who got those loads, though.”
Brad lifted his arm and rubbed it on Coach Jackson’s shoulder. “Can you smell him on me, Coach?”
Coach Jackson inhaled deeply, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Shit, I really can.”
“He was so grateful to get his pussy used I managed to get two loads out of him before I gave him my first nut.”
“Lucky fucker. . .” Coach Jackson mumbled. I wasn’t sure if he was talking about Brad or Mr. Foster. I’m guessing Coach Jackson didn’t know either.
Brad moved his mouth over to Coach Jackson’s lips and started kissing him, softly at first and then more roughly.
I looked over at Mr. Williams and he just laughed to himself at their constant displays of affection.
Brad pulled away from him for a second. “I’m sure I could get it up again if you were wanting some too, Coach.”
Coach Jackson thought about it for a moment. “You know what, kid? There’s something I need to do first.”
Brad said nothing as Coach Jackson stood up. The man reached out and grabbed his athlete’s cock through his pants. “This is mine when I get back, you understand me?”
“You got it, Coach.” Brad replied, intrigued by what Coach Jackson was up to but not willing to ask.
Dan Jackson walked through the glass doors of the Foster Electronics corporate offices breathing in and out. He’d been wanting to do this for a while now, and smelling the scent of another man on his athlete was the last straw.
He stepped off the elevator and walked up to the reception desk, clearing his throat. “Dan Jackson.” He grunted. “I need to speak with Greg Foster.”
The receptionist looked at him apprehensively. “Will Mr. Foster know what this is regarding?”
“Yeah. . .” Coach Jackson replied with a smirk. “He’ll know exactly what this is about.
The receptionist reached for her console. “Mr. Foster, there’s a Dan Jackson here to see you, sir.”
There was a pause as she waited for a response.
A really long pause.
She pressed the button again. “Mr. Foster, sir?”
A voice sounded from the machine with an audible sigh. “Send him in, Sheryl.”
Dan Jackson pushed through the double doors to find Greg Foster sitting at his desk, looking nervous.
“Dan, I-“ The man began, anxiously.
“I’ll be doing the talking here, Foster.” Coach Jackson projected, looking the handsome executive over.
Greg Foster gulped.
“I’m not here to rough you up. I’m here to let you know your place.” He sat down at the edge of the man’s desk and picked up the same decorative orb his athlete had played with only an hour before, tossing it up and down in his hand. “Williams is free to fuck whoever he wants.”
The executive seemed to let out his breath slowly, relaxing.
“Hell, if had heard he had come by this office wanting your cunt and you’d told him no I’d be here a lot fucking angrier than I am now. If Brad Williams wants CEO pussy you’ll let him have it, you understand me? If I hear you ever tell him no you’ll have me to answer to. As far as you’re concerned, he wants it, he gets it. He says the word you spread your legs and let him have whatever the fuck he wants as many times as he wants it. With Brad Williams you don’t know the word ‘no’. And you say ‘thank you’ after he’s done with you, you understand me? This kid has his pick of the world and if he chooses you you’re one lucky son of a bitch. I want you to tell me that if he comes into this office looking to get laid you’ll put out for him. Any time he wants it.”
Mr. Foster looked at him, confused, not knowing how to respond.
“Answer me, Foster.” Coach Jackson grunted.
“Y-yes.” Mr. Foster stammered. “Of course.”
“You’ll put out for him? Any time he wants it he gets it?”
“Of course. Any time he wants it.” He said, nervously.
“Good.” Coach Jackson smirked. “Glad we’re clear on that.” He crossed his arms and looked the handsome CEO over. “Let me see it.”
“Your snatch, Foster. I want to see how good he knocked you up.”
Mr. Foster gulped again.
“What the fuck aren’t you understanding here?” Coach Jackson barked, causing the man to jump in his seat.
The businessman immediately stood up, reaching down to undo his luxury trousers.
Coach Jackson watched him, his arms crossed. “Put on a show for me.”
“Go on. You know what to do. Pretend like I’m Brad Williams and you’re one of a hundred cockwhores trying to get him to choose you to put his cock into tonight. He could have anyone he wants but you want it to be your pussy he’s knocking up.”
A wave of confidence suddenly seemed to wash over the handsome businessman. Now this, he could do. He looked his son’s football coach directly in the eye as he arched his back and slowly slid his designer slacks down, revealing his sexy, toned ass, taking his time.
“Good boy.” Coach Jackson muttered, watching the hot-shot CEO putting on a show for him. “I can see why Williams has taken a liking to you. He’s got good taste. I like that. I like that Williams knows he deserves the best and that he can have the best. Turn around.”
Mr. Foster slowly turned his body so that his back was facing the giant man.
He sighed, following orders and placing his hands on his desk as he complied.
“Shit, I can already see it spilling out of you.” Coach Jackson muttered, reaching out and grabbing the man’s ass as he watched his lover’s seed smeared around his hole.
“He must have loaded you up good.”
“Oh God yes.” Mr. Foster sighed. “I was about to smear some of it on my cock and jack off with it before I went home.”
“Can’t say I blame you.” Coach Jackson admitted. “You’re lucky Williams doesn’t have a problem with you pleasuring yourself once he’s done with you. Can’t say I would have extended you that same courtesy but he probably gets off knowing you’re still thinking about you giving it up for him after he’s put you away.”
Coach Jackson grabbed a meaty ass cheek and squeezed it in his hand. “You’re probably wondering what the hell I’m doing here, aren’t you, Foster?”
The man nodded, apprehensively.
“There’s a hierarchy.” He said, spreading the man’s cheeks apart and rubbing the man’s opening firmly, playing with the cum smeared around it. “Naturally, Williams is at the fucking top. But you know that.” He teased the tip of his finger inside, coaxing out more sperm, playing with it. “And who do you think comes next?”
Greg Foster gulped. “You.”
“That’s right.” Coach Jackson smirked. “It goes Williams, then me, and then way, way, way down at the very bottom is you. What Williams and I have is a partnership. I’m not someone he can just use to get off and then be done with. That’s you. He works for my pussy. He earns my pussy. I’m the one he goes to sleep next to at night and the one he wakes up next to in the morning. You’re the booty call. You’re the easy lay. I’m the one he makes love to. I’m the one he craves. I’m the one he respects. Have I made myself clear?”
Coach Jackson got down on his knees and pressed his tongue up against the man’s opening, causing him to jump.
“This is my load.” Coach Jackson muttered, licking up any trace of sperm he found. “If I tell you to sit still like that, with your ass up like some cockwhore so I can take back what’s rightfully mine, what are you going to do about it?”
Greg Foster was silent.
“That’s right.” Coach Jackson smirked again, this time thrusting his tongue into it to pull out any left-over cum he could reach.
The handsome CEO immediately clenched up, a last ditch effort to protect the load he had rightfully earned and craved so much. He didn’t want it taken from him.
“Give it to me, Foster.” Coach Jackson commanded him. “You have something that belongs to me and I’m taking it back.” He slapped the man’s ass authoritatively.
Mr. Foster hung his head down and knew he had lost. He slowly unclenched his opening and begrudgingly allowed the giant man to begin to clean him out.
Coach Jackson made loud slurping noises as he took the remnants of his athlete’s load into his mouth, making sure the CEO executive heard every movement he made with his tongue. “That’s it.” He said, licking his lips. “Give it up, Foster. I’m doing you a favor. We can’t have you going home to that pretty little trophy wife of yours with another guy’s jizz running down your leg.”
The man stayed like that, humiliated.
“Damn, Williams really knows how to pin a guy down and really load him up, doesn’t he?” Coach Jackson gloated, as he went in for more. “There might even be enough for us to share if I was the type of man who liked sharing.”
Greg Foster groaned audibly as Coach Jackson’s tongue slipped in further.
“Shit, you really are a slut. . .” Coach Jackson muttered. “You probably want me to fuck right now, don’t you?”
The man said nothing.
“Don’t you, Mr. Hot-Shot CEO?” He chided him, spanking him.
“Yes. . .” Mr. Foster said, softly.
“What was that?” Coach Jackson asked, spanking him harder this time. “Didn’t quite catch that.”
“Please fuck me.” The executive moaned.
“Aw, you can do better than that, Foster. Brad Williams doesn’t let just anyone have his cock. Show me how you do it for him.”
“Please. . . Please let me have your cock. . .” The man whimpered, winking his hole instinctively. A bit of cum that Coach Jackson hadn’t been able to reach with his tongue dripped out.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen, Foster.” Coach Jackson said, spitting into his hand and lathering up his thick, beer-can cock. “I’m gonna slide this thick cock into your pussy and it’s gonna pull out every single last bit of jock cum let inside of you. Do you understand me?”
Greg Foster said nothing, conflicted.
“Feel that?” Coach Jackson asked, slapping his big cockhead at the man’s pucker. “Feel how fucking big and thick it is? By the time I’m done with you any trace of jock cum is mine.”
Again, the man said nothing.
“Now beg for it.” Coach Jackson waited. “Beg me to take back what’s mine.”
“T-take it. . .” The executive mumbled.
“Come on, Foster, beg for it.”
Dan Jackson plunged in without mercy, causing the handsome executive to yell out at the intrusion.
“Shut the fuck up, Foster. Man up.”
Coach Jackson thrust in and out of him, pulling all the way out with each stroke, his fat cockhead coated with the remnants of his athlete’s sperm. “That’s right. I may have let Brad Williams turn my hole into a cunt just like yours but I’ve got twenty years experience making guys like you squirm around my cock begging me for more.” He slammed into him with deep, hard strokes causing the man underneath him to groan in pleasure. “Tell me, Foster, do you think I’m a cockslut?”
“N-no. . .” The handsome executive moaned.
“Wrong answer.” Coach Jackson grunted, spanking him hard as he slammed into him. “You wouldn’t fuckin’ believe how turned on I get being a cockslut for that kid. But I’m his cockslut. Not yours.” He grabbed the man’s arm and pulled it behind him to his muscle ass, letting the man feel his opening. “Feel that pussy, Foster?”
Mr. Foster jut groaned in response.
“I asked you a question. Do you feel that pussy?”
“Y-yes. . .”
“This pussy belongs to Brad Williams. He works for it, he gets it. You wouldn’t be able to have this pussy in a million years. And yet here I am,” He grunted, giving the man underneath him deep, unforgivable strokes, “taking yours the first time I ask for it.”
“Oh fuck. . .”
“Brad Williams deserves better than you. He has better than you. He has me.”
“I’m- I’m going to cum. . .” The executive groaned.
“Oh no you’re not.” Coach Jackson muttered, slapping the man’s hand away from his cock. “I’m not done taking back what’s mine. Fuck, I’m taking it all back, Foster.” Coach Jackson gloated. “Feel how wet my dick is when I pull out of your cunt? That’s the load I’m taking from you.”
He sank his dick all the way in and the man moaned, reaching down to play with himself.
“That’s it, Foster. Play with your cock while you give it up. You just can’t fucking help yourself can you? But don’t even think about blowing your wad until I tell you to.”
“Oh god!” Greg Foster groaned, getting lost in the pleasure he was experiencing from such a thick, fat cock rubbing against his spot.
“15.” Coach Jackson said into his ear, grinding against the poor man’s prostate.
The handsome executive started to panic. What was he counting down to?
“Oh fuck!” Mr. Foster yelled out, jacking himself off faster as Coach Jackson started to fuck him even harder.
“Oh fuck, I’m- I’m cumming!”
“NOT UNTIL I GET TO ONE.” Coach Jackson yelled, pulling his hair and breathing down his neck.
Greg Foster’s whole body flushed as he desperately tried to hold off his impending orgasm, concentrating on absolutely anything other than letting the load at the tip of his cock out.
The time in between numbers was slowing down.
Coach Jackson paused as the man underneath him squirmed around, pitifully.
“PLEASE!” The executive begged, his hand shaking around his cockhead, willing himself not to cum.
“PLEASE! I- I can’t! I can’t hold off!”
Coach Jackson felt the hole currently wrapped around his cock constrict around him as the man groaned, gritting his teeth.
“GAAAHHH!!” Greg Foster bellowed, finally releasing his load all over his desk and the distinguished hard oak floor below them.
Coach Jackson continued to saw in and out of him as he watched the pitiful man drench everything around him in sperm.
Before the handsome executive was done shooting, Coach Jackson shoved his head down forcefully and smeared it all around his cum, making sure his hair and the entire right side of his face was fully coated in his own thick, white load.
“That’s it, Foster. You can have this cum. Williams’s load is mine, but you can have as much of this useless cum as you want.”
Coach Jackson slammed into him in deep, powerful strokes and just when the man underneath him was sure he was about to be flooded by a torrent of cum, he pulled out.
“Wha- what are you doing?” He pled. “Please, put it back in. . . I want you to breed me so badly. . .”
“You don’t get my load.” Coach Jackson grunted, slapping his cock against his abs and pulling his wind-shorts over it. His massive cock stuck out obscenely. “I’m not wasting my load in you. I’m going home to Brad Williams, he’s going to take me upstairs to his room, and he’s going to fuck it out of me. And it’s gonna feel fucking incredible. And then he’s going to cum inside of me while he kisses my lips while he’s fucking me because he treats me like a fucking king and not a whore.”
The powerful executive didn’t know what to say.
“Oh, and one last thing.” Coach Jackson muttered, reaching across the desk and grabbing the discarded jockstrap he recognized from his athlete’s collection. “I’m taking this back, Foster.”
Greg Foster watched as the hulking football coach pulled on his shirt and tucked the jock into his pocket and left without another word, his face and hair sticky with cum.
Dan Jackson walked through the house back out to the patio and stopped in front of his athlete, pulling out the jockstrap from his pocket and throwing it down on the table, like it was the head of his rival commander in times of war.
“What’s this, Coach?” Brad asked, looking it over.
“What the fuck does it look like, Williams?”
He grabbed his athlete’s hand and brought it to his ass, letting him feel him up. “If you think I’m not man enough to defend my territory when someone’s trying to take what’s mine then you can fucking think again.”
Brad looked from his old jockstrap back up to Coach Jackson.
“Listen to me, Williams.” Coach Jackson muttered, as his athlete started to finger his hole through the leg of his shorts. “You’re going to get off this couch, walk me upstairs, and you’re going to fuck me as hard as you think I can possibly handle and then you’re gonna go even harder. Have I made myself clear?”
“Upstairs.” Brad pointed to the house. “Now.”