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Chapter 42

Brad stared down at the scene before him, his jaw dropped. John Carpenter, the guy he’d been competing with ever since he started on the team, was lying on his back, legs in the air as their coach’s massive cock was sliding in and out of him. He simply could not believe it.

            Carpenter’s face was white. He certainly was not expecting Brad’s audience. “Coach, what the hell is going on? Why did you tell him to be here?”

            Brad Williams’s mouth started to water as he gazed down at his teammate in all of his glory. The guy was so good-looking, and so muscular in all the right places. He was masculine in every sense of the word. Big, firm pectoral muscles that were smooth until a trail of hair led down his naval. He was wearing a white jockstrap that stretched around his massive, meaty ass.

            But what he noticed first was what was inside of the jockstrap. He now understood why Carpenter always kept his back turned to the team whenever they washed up after practice. Through the confines of the cloth, Brad could make out what appeared to be a rock-hard, fully engorged cock that couldn’t have been more than four and a half inches. On anyone else it may have looked okay, but on the giant, burly quarterback who stood almost six and a half feet tall, it almost looked comical. There was a steady trail of sap that led from the tip of his cockhead through the material and running along his abs. It certainly seemed like he was definitely enjoying having Coach Driver’s monster inside of him.

           

At that moment Coach Driver held the guy’s legs still as he slowly pulled out of him, his monster cock exiting and slapping against his abs proudly.

            “You want a piece?”

            Carpenter immediately sat up, scrambling. “No fucking way, Coach. There’s no fucking way he’s fucking me!”

            “Shut the hell up, John.” Driver commanded him. “Now listen to me. What you did yesterday was wrong. I could kick you off the team for picking a fight with someone. And then he’d probably get promoted to quarterback. Is that what you want?”

            “No, but-“ John interjected, pleading.

            “And more importantly, if you don’t put out for this guy, you’ll never have my cock inside of you again.” He reached down and made his immense shaft bounce for effect.

            “Coach. . .” Carpenter begged, at a loss for words.

            “What’s it going to be, John?”

            This time Brad jumped in. “I don’t want to fuck him, Coach.” Brad lied, crossing his arms.

            “Oh bullshit.” Driver scoffed, laughing. “I’ve been fucking this guy for 3 years now, and he’s up there with the best ass I’ve ever had. Tell me fucking the guy who’s responsible for that big bruise on your face wouldn’t make it all better.”

            Brad clenched his fists in anger.

            “Coach, don’t make me do this. . . “ John begged, conflicted.

            “We’ve got a lot to talk about, but the only way to make this right is to do it the real way, boys.”

            Both of them said nothing. John slowly got back down on his back and spread his legs apart, staring up at the ceiling.

            “Well that’s as good an invitation as any, I’d say.” Driver chuckled, patting Brad on the back. “Go on and get him. Enjoy the hell out of that ass. Use it.”

            Brad stepped up to his teammate and couldn’t even look him in the eye. He was so turned on right now. From just how hot this guy was, but also getting even with him in the most primal way he knew how.

            “I made sure not to stretch him out too much for you.” Driver laughed.

            “Lube?” Brad asked, breaking his silence for the first time.

            “Do you think he deserves it?”

            The bruise on his forehead throbbed as he looked down at his rival. “Fuck no.”

            “Then what the hell are you waiting for?”

            A slight grin spread over Brad Williams’s face as he slowly unzipped his pants. Every single second seemed to wear on his teammate and he wanted to make this last.

            He tapped his already rock-hard cock against John’s opening, which was red from the pounding he’d gotten from Driver earlier.

            He ran a finger over the puffy entrance, causing his teammate to wince at the uninvited notion.

            “Man, Driver’s been giving it to you good for a while now, hasn’t he John?”

            John didn’t reply, hating this.

            “I wonder what the rest of the guys would think if they found out the guy they all worship was putting out for their coach every day after practice.”

            Carpenter’s face turned red, getting increasingly angrier.

            “Looks like he’s not so-“

            “Would you just fucking do it already?” John fired back, for the first time looking him directly in the eye.

            With that, Brad sank his prick in the entire way.

            “GAAH!” John yelled out, not ready for its entry unlubed.

            “There we go. . .” Driver nodded, as he looked on, his own cock throbbing in approval.

            “Shhhh. . . quiet, girl.” Brad said, bringing a finger to the handsome quarterback’s lips. “A good cockslut keeps her mouth shut while she’s giving it up for her man.”

            John looked up at him, angrily. He hated how Brad was getting off on this. From the rough strokes he was giving him, it was clear he wanted this to hurt.

            Brad noticed a change coming over his teammate. John was willing himself not to give in and beg for him to go easy on him. He was manning up.

            He tried picking up the pace to get him to cry uncle, but Carpenter wasn’t letting up. He just looked him right in the eye and took it like a man.

            “Man, go easy on the guy, Brad!” Driver called out as the sounds of hips slamming into hips filled the office.

            “He can take it, Coach.” Brad muttered as he kept eye contact with his rival teammate. “Can’t you, John?”

            “Yeah, I can take it. Are you surprised?” John replied, cocky.

            Brad wasn’t sure how to answer. As his response, he just kept going.

            “Why don’t you two make out a little?” Driver suggested, starting to play with himself as he enjoyed the show.

            Brad stopped his assault for a moment, not prepared. He watched a brief look of hesitation form on John’s face, but it vanished quickly.

            It was like the most fucked up game of chicken ever. Neither guy was willing to cave first. It was yet another opportunity to prove themselves and show the other guy up.

            As Brad considered making the first move, John reached is hand behind Brad’s head and brought it down to his lips, thrusting his tongue into his teammate’s mouth and made out with him.

            “Now that’s what I like to see!” Driver clapped enthusiastically.

            The two rivals continued to make out with each other as Brad slammed into him with deep strokes. John took it all and begged for more.

            “See, why were the two of you having this pissing contest when you could have been doing this instead?”

            Hearing that, Brad broke away from him for a second and looked down at the handsome quarterback. He hated it, but with every thrust he made inside of him, his anger was slowly fading. He wanted to stay mad at this guy, but he just couldn’t. From the look John was giving back to him, he was sure he was experiencing similar sentiments.

            Without even being instructed, Brad lowered himself down again and brought their lips together, this time more soft and sweet.

            He took the time to explore the quarterback’s body with his hands, running along the concrete abs below him. John groaned in response as he wrapped his arms around Brad’s back and pulled him in closer.

            He could feel the precum forming all around the soaked jockstrap below his abs. John seemed to produce a lot of it. He tensed up suddenly when Brad made a move to slip his hand inside.

            “He doesn’t like it when you play with his dick.” Driver said from the couch.

            “Why?” Brad asked, not understanding why John felt this way.

            John looked away and stared at the floor. “Just don’t worry about it.”

            Brad felt immensely sorry for the burly quarterback. He just couldn’t imagine letting something so insignificant as his cock size get in the way of so much pleasure.

            Again, he moved to slip his hand under the fabric and give John the relief he knew he desperately needed. John caught him, and brought his hand below his ass to grab onto his meaty cheek. If John was this insecure, Brad wasn’t going to be able to cure him overnight, it seemed.

            John groaned audibly as Brad made sure to hit all the right spots. Brad’s breathing got heavier and heavier as he went for his climax.

            Coach Driver couldn’t help himself any longer and got up, moving toward the pair of him. His massive cock waved menacingly with each step he made. He stopped next to them, his cock jutting out over John’s face. Without even instructing him further, John knew what to do.

            “That’s it. . .” Driver praised as his quarterback accepted his cock into his mouth. “You know just how I like it.

            “I’m getting close, man.” Brad said, looking down at his teammate as he thrust into him.

            “Do it.” John nodded, mouth full of cock, holding eye contact as he said it.

            John wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in tight as Brad went over the edge, sinking into him all the way as he unloaded.

            “Oh fuuuck!” Brad winced as shot after shot came out of his cock. An instant rush went to his head at the prospect of seeding new territory. No matter how infatuated he was with inseminating Coach Jackson time after time, there would always be that part of him that was a hunter. And John Carpenter was his latest prey.

            “You ready for it, John?” Coach Driver warned him as he felt his orgasm ramping up.

            “Mmmhmm!” John nodded enthusiastically as he worked his coach’s fat cock head over with his throat.

            “I don’t want you to spill one drop! UUUGHHH!!” Driver yelled as he started shooting. He gripped his star quarterback’s meaty pec as he unloaded, with John expertly working over his knob to coax as much fresh cum out of it as he could.

            “God damn that’s good. . .” Driver praised as John accepted his load. “Keep it in there. Take it all.”

            Brad watched as John’s efforts on their coach’s immense cock slowed as he worked more carefully, doing his best to keep the entire load from spilling out.

            “That’s it. . .” Driver cooed, patting him on the cheek as he slowly withdrew his cock. A trail of cum dripped out of his cock and he swirled it around the handsome quarterback’s face. “I want you to keep it for a while. You worked hard for that load and I want you to savor it.” He reached out and traced his thumb over John’s concrete-hard cock concealed in his jockstrap, leaking profusely. “I know you’re probably itching to get rid of this thing. You can shower off in my office and get off, but you’re not to swallow until I tell you.” 

            John nodded as Driver gave him a good, satisfied spank, and headed off to shower off.

            Driver looked at Brad and grinned. “Don’t worry, he likes to get told what to do. I wouldn’t boss him around like that if he didn’t.”

           

                                                                        -

            “Are you sure about this, Dan?” Mike Williams asked apprehensively as the two of them sat out on the patio, the afternoon sun making its way over them.

            “Honestly Mike, I couldn’t tell you who’s getting the better deal out of this, him or us. Trust me. Just enjoy yourself.”

            They heard the doorbell ring and Coach Jackson got up to answer it, returning with Greg Foster in tow.

            “Afternoon, Mike.” The wealthy executive nodded, nervously.

            “Good to see you, Greg.” Mike replied, shaking his hand.

            “Alright, enough with this formality bullshit.” Dan interjected. “Foster, go over to the fridge behind the bar and get Mike and me a couple of beers. There’s nothing like a nice cold one in your hand while you’re getting your cock sucked.”

            Greg Foster nodded enthusiastically as he did what he was told, going over to the refrigerator and taking out a couple of beers.

            Coach Jackson leaned in to Mike. “Just go with it. I promise the guy gets off on being used.”

            The two waited as the handsome businessman returned with their beers.

            The man immediately got down on his knees before him.

            “How the fuck am I supposed to drink my beer while you’re sucking my cock if I can’t open my beer, Foster?” Coach Jackson growled.

            “Of course-“ Mr. Foster replied, anxiously as he got up to retrieve a bottle opener.

            Coach Jackson looked over at Mike with a smirk, mouthing, “Look how hard the fucker is.”

            Sure enough, there was a raging hard-on in the man’s pants as he returned with the bottle opener.  He extended it to Dan, but Dan only held out his bottle to him, waiting. Understanding, the wealthy executive took it from him and worked the device over the cap, breaking it open and doing the same for Mike’s. Dan took a big swig, and gave a deep, satisfied sigh.

            Again, Greg Foster got down onto his knees before them. Dan just looked at him expectantly, his legs spread to show off the big meat already tenting in his shorts.

            Greg slowly reached out to their groins, to get a proper feel at what he’d be putting his efforts into for the next half hour.

Coach Jackson swatted his hand away. “Don’t you have something to say to us, Foster?”

            “D-did you need anything else?” He asked, quietly.

            “Why don’t you start with thanking Mike and me for giving you the opportunity to suck us off.”

            “T-thank you for giving me the opportunity to suck you off.” He replied, weakly.

            “Pffft.” Coach Jackson scoffed. “I didn’t buy that for one second. What do you think, Mike?”

            Mr. Williams, feeling more and more confident with this wealthy executive businessman literally kneeling before him, decided to go for it. “Not for one second, Dan. Maybe he hasn’t earned our loads down his throat.”

            “No!” Greg yelled, for the first time raising his voice. “Please! Please let me suck you off.”

            “Convince us, Foster.” Coach Jackson muttered, taking another sip from his beer.

            “God, I need it. . .” Greg sighed. “I need it. Please. I’ll give you anything you want. Just please let me suck your cock.”

            “What, you think you can buy us with your money?” Mr. Williams retorted, giving Dan a grin.

           

“Yeah, you think all it takes is money to get us to let you suck us off, Foster? You think just because you’re this hot-shot CEO that you can just suck any cock you want?” 

            “No, I- I didn’t mean-“

            “Well then fucking say what you mean, Foster. Tell us why you deserve the right to suck us off.”

            “This. . .” Greg sighed, running his hand over the giant mound in Coach Jackson’s shorts. “This huge, amazing, powerful cock. It’s a man’s cock. And it deserves to be worshiped like a man’s cock should.” He traced the outline of the big, meaty head of Coach Jackson’s signature beer-can thick cock. “I mean it’s just awe inspiring. It commands respect. And I know how to respect it.” He then brought his other hand to the mound forming in Mike Williams’s pants. “And this. . .” He said, tracing along the outline. “This is the cock that made Brad Williams. The seed in these balls is premium quality Williams DNA. If I was lucky enough to get your load, I would be a better man for it. I could have all the money in the world and I still wouldn’t be in the same league with you two. I’m surrounded by greatness here. I am unworthy of being in the presence of two such equipped, masculine men, but if the two of you would find it in you to give a man like me the opportunity to show you how grateful I am for the chance to pleasure you, I would be eternally grateful.”

            Coach Jackson let his words mull around in his mind for a moment. “Not bad, Foster. Not bad at all. What do you think, Mike? Should we give the poor guy a shot?”

            “I think I believed him, Dan.” Mike replied.

            Coach Jackson brought his beer up to his lips. “Well let’s see you put your money where your mouth is, hot-shot CEO.”

                                                                        -

           

“So how long has this thing between you two been going on, Driver?” Brad Williams asked as they listened to the water cascade off the walls of the shower while John washed off.

            “Shit, I guess we’re going on almost three years now. He played hard to get for the first few months but I saw something in him and knew he had this side in him he was afraid to let out. I knew I’d wear him down and get him to give it up. Admittedly, it’s not the same thing I see in you, unfortunately.”

            “So are you two, like, a couple, or something?”

            “No no, it’s nothing like that.” Driver replied. “We get each other off. That’s it. It’s not like you and Dan.”

            “So you guys fuck pretty regular?”

            “It depends. I mean, we have to be pretty careful. We don’t want any of the guys on the team knowing what’s going on. But I’d say I usually get some ass off of him a couple times a week.”

            They listened as the water from Coach Driver’s shower rained down against the tile wall next to his office.

            “After that fight yesterday and I finally realized what this whole rivalry thing was really about between you two, I decided you should know.”

            “So what was it really about? He thought you were going to want to start fucking me instead?” Brad asked.

            “I think that’s something you should ask him.” Driver replied as they heard the water turn off.

            John appeared, drying himself with a towel, the mound in his jockstrap having gone down due to the satisfied look on his face.

            “You know all those loads you blow down that drain after I fuck you are going to ruin the plumbing, John.” Driver laughed, inspecting him.

            John looked at him expectantly.

            “Show me.” Driver commanded him, crossing his arms.

            John composed himself, stood up straight, and opened his mouth wide, sticking his tongue out, where Driver’s pearly white load was still pooling over his tongue.

            “Good boy. You may swallow.”

            John complied, with a refreshed look on his face.

            “Alright, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, John, is there something you’d like to say to Brad?”

            The two former rivals looked one another over, sizing the other up. After a while, John sighed. “Look man, I’m really sorry.”

            “It’s fine, John.” Brad shrugged.

            “No really. I was a total dick to you and I had really shitty reasons for it.”

            “Well thanks.” Brad replied, warming a little to him.

            “Ever since he met you over the summer, Coach Driver just kept talking you up and how great you were. I thought he was going to replace me with you. Like he’s got a new piece of ass all to himself.”

            “Hah!” Brad laughed.

            “Look Brad. . .” John said, staring down at the floor. “I- I’m sure I don’t have to explain to you why I’m a little self-conscious when it comes to fucking.”

            “Dude, you have nothing to-“ Brad started.

            “Just let me finish.” John insisted, wanting to get this out. “Everybody sees this big, tough quarterback on the field. And I don’t exactly measure up to their expectations, alright? And it’s even worse because I like having sex. A lot.”

            “Who doesn’t?” Brad laughed.

            “Exactly. So this thing I have going on with Coach Driver is pretty much the best thing I’ve ever had going for me. I didn’t have to be ashamed of my size around him because he wasn’t after my dick, he was after my ass.”

            “And boy am I. . .” Driver teased him with a grin. “You’ve got me hooked, John.”

            “I guess I just saw you as a threat to this thing I’ve got going on with Coach Driver and I lashed out at you. I’m really sorry for that, man.”

            “I get it, John.” Brad smiled. “I really do.”

            “Aww, look at my boys getting along.” Driver grinned, reaching out patting the two of them on the back. “Now this is what I like to see.”

            John looked back at him and laughed. “You know, that was a real dick move ambushing us like that. You could have really screwed things up.”

            “Ah, I knew what I was doing. I could either tell him what was going on or show him. I figured showing him was way more fun.”

            An alarm on John’s phone beeped through his discarded pants on the office floor.

            “That’s my study group. I gotta go.” John said, reaching down and picking up his clothes. “So are we cool now?”

            “Dude, we’re more than cool.” Brad grinned, reaching out to cop a feel of his former rival’s meaty ass. “I think I’m going to enjoy fucking you a lot more than fighting you from now on.”

            “I think I am too.” John laughed.

            “As long as I still get first dibs!” Driver cracked.

            “There’s plenty of me to go around.” John replied, pulling his shirt on.

            “Yeah. . .” Driver muttered. “Guess we’ll see about that.

                                                                        -

            “Open up that throat and show that cock some respect, Foster.” Coach Jackson commanded the wealthy businessman as Mike Williams leaned back and enjoyed the sensations the tongue and throat around his cock were giving him. “Yeah, you like sucking off the cock that made Brad Williams?”

            “Mmhmm. . .” Greg Foster nodded as he sank his throat all the way down on it.

            “Yeah, you want that Williams DNA alright. Shit, you’d let Mike put another kid in you if he could, wouldn’t you Foster?” Coach Jackson muttered as he jacked himself off, watching the show.

            “Mmmhmm. . .” The man nodded again, more urgently this time, as he continued his servicing of Mike Williams’s cock.

            “Yeah, you’d like that.” Coach Jackson taunted him. “You’d let him put a kid in you and you’d carry it to term for him, wouldn’t you? Each time you put out for Brad Williams there’s a part of you hoping this time it’ll take, isn’t there?”

            “MMMMMM!!” The executive groaned uncontrollably as he involuntarily started cumming through his trousers. A big wet spot was rapidly forming at the front. He whimpered around the cock fucking his throat as he creamed the inside of his designer slacks, helpless to stop it.

            “Jesus Christ, Foster.” Coach Jackson marveled as he and Mike exchanged looks. “You’re one kinky son of a bitch, you know that? You about ready to add Mike’s load to the one I dropped down your throat a few minutes ago?”

            “Mmhmm . . .” The man groaned, exhausted.

            “Because I’m itching for another shot at that ass. You want another load from me?”

            “Mmhmm.”

            “Go on, Mike. Give the poor man what he needs.”

            Mike grabbed the back of the executive’s head and pushed him all the way down on his cock, fully impaling him, and started to unload in him, his cock twitching against the back of the man’s esophagus.

            “Yeah, there we go.” Coach Jackson praised as he watched the pair of them. He reached out and stuck his hand in the cleft of the businessman’s ass under his slacks. “You’re gonna be pulling double duty this afternoon.”

                                                                        -

            I waited anxiously for Brad to get back from his meeting with Coach Driver, hoping everything went okay and that he was able to smooth things over with John. Brad’s usually a happy guy, and seeing him down in the dumps lately just wasn’t him.

            When he got back to our dorm I immediately knew the old Brad was back. As he was filling me in on everything that happened, I just knew he had to tell Coach Jackson, knowing the big guy would love hearing every second of it. After Brad and I grabbed dinner together off campus I went off to hang out with Drew and Brad decided to hang back and talk to Coach Jackson.

“And so pretty much, everything’s cool between us now.” Brad Williams shrugged as he stared into the webcam of his laptop while the burly Coach Jackson looked at him from across the screen.

            “Typical Brad Williams. . .” Coach Jackson muttered. “Picks a fight with someone and still manages to get laid.”

            “Yeah, well enough about me. Have you been putting out for anyone, Coach?”

            “Yeah, I finally gave it up for this guy at the gym who’s been hounding me for it for months now. He’s been wanting in my ass for a while now and he finally managed to get me last weekend.”

            “How was it, Coach?”

            “Fucking terrible.” Coach Jackson laughed, sighing. “He was real grateful for it, but it just wasn’t the same, Williams. God, I miss your jock cock.”

            “Then come get it, Coach.” Brad smiled, reaching down to grip his dick through his boxers. “You know where you can find me.”

            “Fuck, you know I would, kid. Just can’t get away for a full weekend any time soon. God, you know I’d be putting out for you nonstop if I could, right?”

            “Yeah, I know. I just miss you, Coach.”

            “You miss the pussy or you miss me, Williams?” Coach Jackson laughed.

            “Can’t I miss both?’

            “Yeah, I know what you mean.” Coach Jackson replied. He heard the doorbell ring. “Hey, that’s Mike here to pick me up on the way to the gym. Talk to you later?”

            Brad sighed as he took the time to look over every visible inch of Coach Jackson’s body. “Yeah. Talk to you later.” He watched as the burly man stood up and stretched. “Hey, real quick Coach?”

            “What is it, Williams?”

            “Take off your shirt real quick. I want to see what I’m missing.”

            Coach Jackson gave him a smirk and slowly lifted his shirt up, revealing his meticulously cut, toned abs. But all too soon he pulled it back down again.

            “What, that’s all I get?” Brad laughed.

            “That’s all you get.”

            “God, you turn me on, Coach.”

            “Yeah, kid? Still look good enough to fuck?” Coach Jackson grinned.

            “I’m not even going to answer that.” Brad shook his head, laughing.

            “You know I do this all for you, Williams. I like looking good for you.” The doorbell rang again, this time more harshly. “Jesus Mike, calm the fuck down. . .” Coach Jackson muttered under his breath. “Gotta go, Williams. Don’t do anything stupid.”

            “What exactly do you think I would do, Coach?”

            “I’m just saying in general. Don’t do anything stupid. Because why. . .?”

            “Because you’ll come up here and kick my ass if I do.” Brad mouthed back, rhetorically.

            “Good boy.” He made a move to turn off the webcam, the doorbell now going off like crazy. “I’M COMING ALREADY MIKE, SO SHUT THE FUCK-“

            The screen went black and Brad couldn’t help but laugh. Coach Jackson was becoming unhinged alright. And Brad knew first-hand how bitchy the mountainous man could be when he hadn’t gotten royally fucked in a while. He just wished there was something he could do to help the poor guy out.

            And then he realized he could.

                                                                        -

           

            “Williams, what the fuck are you calling me at this time of night for?” Coach Jackson’s low voice sounded from the phone. “It’s 3:30 in the fucking morning.”

            “Sorry Coach, but I figured it was time to let you in on this.” Brad replied, typing something on the computer.

            “Let me in on what?”

            “I sent you something.”

            Coach Jackson sighed as he got up to go to his computer. “This better be good, Williams.” Brad waited as Coach Jackson typed. “What the fuck is this?”

            “Open it up and read it.” Brad egged him on.

            Dan Jackson’s eyes widened as he read the message. It was an ad. “Oh you gotta be out of your fucking mind, Williams. . .”

            “Would you just shut up and read it?” Brad pressed.

            Coach Jackson’s eyes roamed down the screen as he continued.

[Muscle Stud Looking To Get His Pussy Wrecked

I’m a former football player who works out every single day; no steroids, just hard work and dedication. Looking to get fucked and fucked how I like it. Consider this the chance of a lifetime to get with 100% Grade A muscle stud. I take you out for a beer. I put out.

(There was a picture of him from the neck down that Brad particularly liked that really showed off just how massive all over the giant man was)

Me: Willing cockslut who can take anything you throw at me. Trust me, you can fuck me as hard as you possibly can and I’ll tell you to fuck me even harder. And you better. I take cock like a champ and I can suck dick like you wouldn’t believe. I like it rough and I like it hard.

You: Hung.

If you have any questions, then fuck off. I’ve made myself clear. Any submissions should be sent to my boyfriend at the address listed below. Do not waste my time. Must include first and last name, face picture, body shot, cock size, and proof of a clean STD test. I don’t give this pussy up for rubber. ]

            Brad waited for some kind of response. “Say something, Coach.”

            “Williams, you are out of your fucking mind. . .” Coach Jackson replied, leaning back in his chair.

            “You said you needed to get fucked, Coach.”

            “And you saw that as an opportunity to whore me out on the internet just so I could get some dick?”

            “Well, yeah.” Brad shrugged.

            “Jesus, kid. . .”

            “Come on, Coach.” Brad replied. “Tell me your pussy isn’t getting sensitive just at the thought of giving it up for any of these hung studs.”

            “Shit. . .” Coach Jackson sighed. “I can’t believe this is turning me on.”

            “Admit it, Coach. You want me to post this. You want to give it up for the most hung cock I can find you.”

            “God damnit, Williams. . . I can’t believe I’m letting you talk me into this.”

            “Just say the word, Coach.”

            “Now wait just a minute, kid, can’t I have more of a say in who exactly I’m giving it up for?”

            “Do you trust me, Coach?”

            “Of course I trust you.”

            “Do you trust me that I’m going to find the guy who’s most worthy of getting the chance to fuck my boyfriend?”

            Coach Jackson sighed. “Yeah, I trust you.”

            “Then just say the word, Coach.”

            There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Christ almighty. Do it.”

            “I’m glad you said that.” Brad replied with a grin. “Because it’s been up for a few hours now.”

            “God damn it, Williams, you little-“

            “Coach.”

            “What?”

            “It’s only been up a few hours and I’ve gotten over three hundred responses.”

            “You- you what?”

            “In the few hours it’s been up, three hundred dudes have seen your ad and submitted an application for the chance to fuck you.”

            “Th- three hundred? You shitting me, Williams?”

            “Are you surprised, Coach?” Brad grinned.

            “Of course not.” Coach Jackson replied, cocky. “So have you made your decision yet?”

            “On what?”

            “On who gets my ass!”

            “Oh we’re just getting started here, Coach. The ad doesn’t go down until the end of the week. By the time this is all over every single eligible guy in California is going to be hounding for the chance to get in your pussy. I even got a response from a guy in New York offering to fly himself down for the opportunity to get a piece.”

            “I can’t believe I’m letting some 18 year-old jock whore my ass out online like a fucking escort. . .”

            “Oh come on, Coach, it’s nothing like that.”

            “Yeah? And why not?”

            “Because they’re whoring their ass out for money. You’re going to whore your ass out because you want cock.”

            “Ah fuck, Williams. . .” Coach Jackson groaned, getting extremely turned on.

            “Oh, and Coach?”

            “Yeah, what now, Williams?”

            “You’re not going to jack off. You’re saving it for one of these guys.”

            “But that’s not for another week!”

            “And you’re going to show them some respect by being the biggest cockslut you can be.”

            “Shit Williams. . .”

            “Do we have a deal, Coach?”

            “Fuck. . . Yeah, we have a deal.”

            Brad Williams looked into the upper right hand corner of his screen. He’d gotten 15 new submissions from the time they started their conversation.

            “I’ll be in touch, Coach.” Brad said with a grin. “This is going to be a lot of fun.”

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jhtravus

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