The Saturday regional wrestling meet was in Springfield, a four-hour drive, so as usual the Coach drove the team down in a mini-bus after school Friday so they could stay in the dorms across the street from the Field House. By the time they all had a quick pizza they didn’t get to their assigned dorm rooms until 9pm.

Ford was unsurprised to find that he had been assigned Nick as a roommate. Nick, of course, insisted on having the top bunk, and the boys unpacked their overnight bags.

Ford’s eyes widened as he saw that Nick had brought the black leather bondage underwear with the built-in inflatable butt plug, hand cuffs, and other assorted goodies.

“Why on earth did you bring that stuff? We aren’t going to have time for fooling around. This meet is important.”

Nick smirked.

“We’ll see!”

The two were just changing for bed when they heard a rap on the door and the Coach let himself in. He pulled a six-pack of lite beer out of the bag he carried. Ford had on a loose tee and sleeping shorts, Nick was still in just his white briefs, shirtless.

“Okay, guys, this is important, I don’t want you screwing around all night. We’re going to kick back, have a beer, a quick fuck, and then it’s bed-time. You know what a big deal this is, especially for you, Ford. You’re the star of the team.”

Ford blushed and gave Nick a superior look.

“If you don’t whip Adams tomorrow we can probably kiss our chance at State good-bye. Besides which, if we lose to The Prep, that bastard David Buchanan will never let me live it down. They’ve never beaten us yet.”

David Buchanan was the coach at St. Peter and Paul ad Vincula, a private Catholic two-year college preparatory school known in Chained Rock simply as The Prep. He was fifteen years younger than the Coach, with fiery red hair and an awesome body befitting his spectacular gymnast career in college. Nobody could figure out why he had washed up in such a backwater town like Chained Rock.

The Coach handed each boy a beer, then slid his hand up Ford’s tee shirt. The jock did not resist as the man put one rough hand down the back of his loose shorts and wriggled it in under his rump. The Coach pressed one blunt fingertip against the boy’s anus and started to massage it gently.

He leaned back with a sigh and took a deep pull on his beer, keeping his hand in Ford’s ass.

The Coach nodded at his crotch.

“I think my tool could use a little massage, Ford.”

Ford fumbled with one hand at the Coach’s fly and extracted his big dick, stroking it nice and slow. The Coach sighed and continued to work his finger on Ford’s pucker.

“Looks like Ford could use a little hand-work too, Nick. Why don’t you help him out?”

“What about me?”

“Ford’s the star tomorrow, Nick, come on, be a guy.”

With a look of ill grace Nick moved his chair next to Ford’s, then reached over to pull off the jock’s shorts. Ford lifted his ass a little to help and the Coach’s took advantage of this to let his finger slide deep inside the jock’s ass when he sat down.

Nick pulled off Ford’s tee shirt for good measure, then reached over with his right hand to fondle Ford’s hard dick. After a few minutes he reluctantly put his left hand down his own briefs and began to pleasure himself.

“Tickle my piss slit with your fingernail, Ford... yeah... oh, yeah, fuck, that’s great, I love that... You guys ever kiss?”

“No,” said Nick. “Yes,” said Ford, simultaneously. Nick glared at him.

“Show me.”

“Aw, c’mon Coach, I don’t want to—”

“Cut the whining, Nick. It won’t kill ya.”

“It’s okay, Nick, maybe I should just tell Coach about it instead... you know... ALL the details?”

Ford gave a tiny smile as Nick’s furious glare gave way to a defeated pout.

“Oh, all right.”

Nick got up out of his chair and leaned down to put his face against Ford’s. Ford opened his mouth and let his tongue dance along Nick’s closed lips. Nick felt the Coach push on his head and he opened his mouth, letting Ford’s tongue enter him. It tasted surprisingly sweet, like milk.

“That’s it, guys, that’s it,” he murmured. “Keep it up.”

Ford seemed to be enjoying it, and, truth to tell, it wasn’t as bad as Nick expected, either. At least, not at first... but then the memories of that horrible night tied up in Steve’s room came oozing back, try as he might to repress them... the awful humiliation of it, forced to degrade himself over and over as Steve wrung massive cums from his aching dick...

The Coach slid Nick’s shorts down and off, and began to masturbate the blond jock, still keeping his other hand busy in Ford’s ass, loosening it up. Nick was still stroking Ford’s dick, lost in a welter of self-disgust, reliving the scene with Steve, oblivious to his present surroundings...

Slowly, the Coach tugged Nick forward by the dick and lifted Ford up to a standing position, until the two boys were pressed together. He guided them onto the lower bunk and pressed them down with Ford on top.

“That’s it, guys, keep it up, plenty of tongue.”

The Coach stepped quickly out of his pants, shirt, and jock strap, grabbed a bottle of baby oil and then lay down on Ford’s back. Squirting the sweaty crack full of lube, he worked his big dick slab into Ford’s relaxed ass hole. He felt the muscular jock quiver as his cock lodged against the boy’s horny prostate.

The Coach eased into a nice, rolling fuck. He put his left hand under Nick’s neck to keep the boys’ faces pressed together, and slid the right hand in between their bodies, squirted the trapped cocks with lube, and began to stroke them both in one meaty paw.

Ford grabbed Nick’s buttocks in both hands and ground against him, loving the feel of their two oily cocks slipping against each other in the Coach’s rough hand. Nick kissed back helplessly, completely zoned out as the two men fucked on top of him.

Ford’s hands kneaded and worked his buns driving deeper into the crack each time...

Nick’s eyes widened as he felt one of Ford’s fingers begin to worm its way toward his sensitive hole. He began to thrash, trying to get his hands on Ford’s wrists to pull him away.

The Coach frowned at him over Ford’s shoulder, unaware of the secret finger-fuck he was receiving. With his left hand, he caught both Nick’s flailing wrists in an iron grip and forced his arms down to the mattress above his head.

“Now, Nick, I told you to play nice, tonight. Just simmer down.”

Nick could only whimper into Ford’s mouth as he felt the other jock’s strong, nimble finger secretly go to work on his shaved ass hole. Ford’s eyes glinted with satisfaction as he thrust his tongue deep into Nick’s mouth, and wiggled his finger up his fundament.

The Coach let out a low rumble as he began to fuck harder. Nick felt himself getting ready to cum. Then the Coach let one finger slip over the knob of his dick, tickling the tip, and Nick let loose, quivering and jerking as the Coach milked his cock and Ford frigged his butt hole.

Ford felt Nick’s hot cum spurt up against his belly and he humped against him, working his cock in the Coach’s hand while grinding his ass up for deeper fucking. Within a minute he came as well, tongue dancing in Nick’s mouth as he loaded the blond jock’s abdomen with semen.

The wrestling star’s tight quim pulsated on the Coach’s impaling member as he came, driving the man over the edge and losing a gush of cream inside his bowels.

Finally, the Coach withdrew from the tight jock ass and rolled off him to sit on the edge of the bed and catch his breath. The two boys were no longer kissing, but panting in the after-cum.

Ford started to get up, revealing the huge sticky mess on Nick’s belly. The Coach pushed his head back down against the blond boy.

“Eat up, Ford. All that extra protein will do you good tomorrow.”

Ford groaned and Nick gave an impish grin as the stud began to slurp up their combined orgasms, digging a big wad of splooge out of Nick’s deep navel. Afterwards Ford stood up. The Coach put one hand on his shoulder to keep him still and used the other to gather the cum from Ford’s torso and feed it to him.

Nick waited for his moment. While the other two were thus preoccupied, Nick rolled to the edge of the bed and reached down into his bag, then quick as a cat poured a small amount of white powder into the remains of Ford’s beer.

“All right, Ford, all that jizz should give you an extra edge tomorrow. Now remember what I said. Finish your beers, turn out the lights, and no monkey business. Plenty of time for that after the meet is over.”

“Aye-aye, Cap’n.”

“Sure thing.”

The Coach took Nick’s still-hard cock and gave it a squeeze, ogling his nude body.

“It’s too damn bad you won’t take it up the ass, boy.”

The two boys exchanged a quick glance.

“That’s right. Too bad.”



“Morning, sleepy head.”

Ford woke with a start. He felt like he had overslept.

“What time is it?”

Nick held up the old-fashioned alarm clock.

“It’s only 7. Not to worry, we don’t have to report for another hour and a half.”

Ford’s cock was hard and he started to reach down to give it a squeeze. Then he realized he couldn’t.

Both his hands were tethered to the head posts. He could reach his chest, but no lower.

“Hey! Come on, Nick, it’s not funny, we have to get ready!”

“Plenty of time. Besides, I thought I’d help you get dressed.”

Nick was holding the butt-plug bondage briefs in one hand, and the pump-tube in the other.

Ford kicked and struggled to no avail as Nick slipped the black leather briefs over his feet, then tied each ankle up to the top bunk. Ford hissed and swore, but there was nothing he could do about it as Nick patiently worked the deflated plug into his ass, worked the skin-tight leather up to his hips, and fastened his semi-stiff cock and balls into the genital straps.

As Nick tightened the straps and settled the rings into place, Ford’s cock went fully hard, jutting out of the hole in the briefs.

“Nick, you have to stop this. I’ll call for help, I swear to god.”

“Sure, Ford. Go ahead. You know what, I think I’ll go down the hall and take my shower now. And I might just leave the door open. What will the other guys say when they walk past and see you like this?” He gave Ford’s cock a squeeze.

Ford went pale. “You wouldn’t dare. You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.” Nick’s eyes flashed. Ford gulped. “Now, Ford, I tell you what. Play it my way for the next half hour and I’ll untie you. That will still give you plenty of time to get ready. Or else... you get to show off for everybody.”

Ford sighed, and then nodded.

The dark-haired jock lay submissively as Nick untied him, then slid the tight wrestling singlet on over the bondage underwear. It fit Ford’s well-built body like a second skin. His cock and tethered balls were clearly visible through the stretchy fabric.

Nick then strapped on Ford’s padded leather helmet with its ear protectors, then finally tied on the jock’s wrestling slippers.

Complete kit.

Nick stripped out of his boxers and tee shirt. Ford was struck again by how beautiful Nick’s body was, how he lusted for it.

Nick knew it and enjoyed posing as Ford ogled his muscles, slowly crawling on to the bunk with Ford.

He slowly rubbed his nude body against Ford’s semi-clothed one, pressing their two cocks together, separated only by the thin singlet. Ford squirmed and moaned, skin prickling with sexual heat. Nick reached around and slid the pump-tube in the singlet’s leg opening and stuck the hose on to the butt plug nozzle.

Lying still, Ford let Nick nuzzle and lick his neck while grinding against him, his breathing quickening as he felt the other boy’s tongue lick up his neck to the chin...

Suddenly, Nick planted his mouth against Ford’s and thrust his tongue inside. Ford’s eyes widened, and then got even wider as Nick started to squeeze the pump bulb, inflating the plug inside his ass. Ford returned the kiss helplessly as the toy grew bigger and bigger, pushing on his horny love nut.

Nick’s crystal blue eyes bored into his, as if the blond stud could see into Ford’s mind, see the orgasm building in his overactive hypothalamus.

Ford squirmed and ground his butt into the bed, wanting to cum, but afraid to soil his wrestling kit.

Nick pulled back from the kiss and ground his hips lewdly against Ford’s captive groin. The dark-haired jock convulsed, only barely managing to fend off an orgasm. Nick grinned.

“I thought you would like that!”

The door crashed open.

“Goddam fucking idiots! What the flaming hell are you doing?”

Ford stared at the open door.

“C - coach?”

“Ford you fuckhead! Your first match starts in five minutes!”

Ford looked at the clock, puzzled. There was more than an hour left.

Nick pursed his lips in a fake pout.

“Aww... did some bad person set the clocks wrong? Oops!”

Ford slammed his hands against Nick’s naked chest.

“You - you—”

Ford couldn’t manage to think of something bad enough to say.

The Coach ripped him out from under Nick and yanked him to his feet, then dragged him through the door.

“Coach! Please! I can’t, I can’t go like this, you don’t understand, it was Nick’s fault, I have to change, please!”

“There’s no time, Ford. You know how important this match is! Without you, there’s no way the team will place for the finals!”

The Coach ignored his attempts to explain, and dragged him outside into the cold wind, then across the street to the old field house.

Coach pushed him stumbling through the crowds of other wrestlers in singlets, their parents, other students and referees, until they reached his assigned mat. The ref looked pissed. It was one minute to match time. His opponent, Adams, was already on the mat. Ford could see the rival coach, David Buchanan, behind him.

“9:00 am match between Chained Rock High and St. Peter & Paul Prep, Spencer vs. Adams. Are we ready, gentlemen?”

Ford hissed a frantic whisper at the Coach holding him.

“Coach! I can’t, you have to listen to me...”

“Coach MacAnally, is your player ready or not?”

The Coach shoved him out on to the mat. Ford sighed, then raised his head and got ready to square off, waiting for the signal. Then he was suddenly aware that all of the people surrounding his mat were looking down - at his groin.

Ford snuck a peek at himself and it was worse than he thought. Not only was his erection obscenely noticeable, but there was a dark stain spreading from the tip...

He looked up, and found he was staring into the cold grey eyes of Ryan, the tall, uptight basketball player, leader of the Youth League at his father’s church, who always looked like he had a stick jammed up his butt. And who always seemed to have it in for him...

The whistle blew, and he and Adams started to circle each other.

His opponent was sturdily built, with the look of a Boston Irish dockworker. Adams was the top wrestler at St. Peter and Paul ad Vincula, otherwise known as The Prep, and one of the few wrestlers statewide with the potential to take him.

Adams glanced at Ford’s waist and gave a grimace of disgust.

Ford felt his face grow hotter. Then suddenly a wave of anger toward Nick washed over him. Damn it! Nick knew how important this match was, and he had intentionally fucked with Ford beforehand, trying to throw him off center.

The anger felt good, washing away the embarrassment. So fucking what if his dick was hanging out. Adams would just have to get over it.

He waited, poised and ready. Adams lost patience and lunged first, and Ford side-stepped and flipped him easily.

On their knees, grappling, Ford realized that his condition was affecting Adams’ play more than his own. The chestnut-haired wrestler was constantly trying to keep his body from touching Ford’s crotch, limiting his options.

Ford took advantage of his opponent’s distraction, pressing his advantage, crushing his hard cock against the other boy’s body, feeling him shudder. He felt good. In control.

He rolled onto his butt and pulled Adams into his lap, hooking the guy’s legs with his own while slipping his hands under Adams’ armpits and forcing his arms up and back, holding him in place. Ford felt good. Real good.

He felt his cock lurch against Adam’s butt crack.

The guy made a choking sound of disgust and struggled.

Ford’s eyes widened as he realized abruptly that he was feeling TOO good.

WAY too good...


His breath caught in his throat as he imagined cumming helplessly in front of all these people. The fat plug squirmed in his ass, and Ford realized with icy terror just how close he was to losing it.

He had to finish the match. Fast.

Ford was getting clumsy in his panic, but his homophobic partner was getting even clumsier. They flipped apart and Ford scrambled to get a good hold.

Images of himself cumming on the mat in utter shame kept playing in his mind. Perversely, they were making him even hotter, pushing him closer to the edge.

Finally, he managed to find a good grip and tossed Adams on his back, falling on top of him, hips pressed together. He scrambled with his legs to keep the other boy from rolling out from under, caught both wrists and pushed them down, raising his shoulders high, putting his weight on his dick, forcing it hard against Adams’ groin...

And forcing the plug to jam hard against his own prostate.

His dick slipped against Adams’ cock, and he saw the other dude’s eyes widen in terror as realized that his own cock was hardening in response.

Time seemed to stand still as they stared into each other’s eyes. Ford imagined them having sex, right now, in front of all these people...

There was a ringing in his ears, and he heard the ref blow his whistle. He shuddered, unable to move, ears still ringing, and it was only then that he realized that he was coming.

All he could hear was the buzzing in his head. He watched Adams’ face, the dude was crying out in disgust as Ford humped him helplessly, but Ford could not hear it. Adams writhed in revulsion as he felt the cum seep through Ford’s singlet to soak his own. Ford heard nothing as the orgasm shook his body.

Suddenly he was aware of the sounds of the gym, the other matches going on in the remaining 15 mats.

“Match to Spencer, Chained Rock High!”

“Get OFF me, you perverted FUCK!”

Ford was rolled onto his back as Adams scrambled away from him. The guy looked in horror at his cum-stained uniform and began tearing it off. David Buchanan, the coach at The Prep, only barely managed to restrain the hysterical jock or he would have stripped naked then and there.

The ring of men and students facing the mat were staring at Ford in shock. Ford avoided looking at Ryan.

He lay there, unable to stand yet, chest heaving as he slowly came down from the intense orgasm. A huge, spreading stain centered on his still-erect dick, with obscene curds of white cum oozing through the tight fabric.

Coach David was yelling at the ref, his face nearly as red as his fiery copper hair, and Ford’s Coach was yelling at him, while everyone else was standing open-mouthed in disgust... except for a few who were discretely rearranging themselves in their pants.

David was demanding that the ref disqualify him, but apparently the Rules & Regs didn’t happen to cover what to do if one of the wrestlers came all over his opponent during a match. The Coach yanked Ford to his feet, and they all proceeded forth into the corridor, passing groups of gawking wrestlers.

The ref called a halt to all the yelling, and announced that he was going to take Ford and Coach MacAnally aside privately to discuss what the appropriate response should be. Meanwhile David should get back to his team and the ref would inform him of his decision at the end of the day.

David put his arm around Adams and escorted him to the locker room to get cleaned up, looking mighty pissed.

The ref took them into a locked workout gym in another wing. Ford was told to take a shower in the small changing area while they hashed it out. Ford snuck into a stall and hastily ripped off the soiled singlet, then spent several long minutes figuring out how to get out of the kinky briefs again.

After the shower, Ford came out in a towel. The men had obviously come to an agreement of some kind, but they didn’t say what. There was a whiff of conspiracy in the air.

Ford was ordered to sit on a workout bench. Coach straddled the bench right behind him, and the ref pulled up a folding chair.

The men told him what a serious situation it was. Coach commented that the paper had sent a free-lance sports photographer to the meet. The guy happened to be on their match and got the entire scene on film. Ford was mortified that his degradation might be in the paper.

“Oh no - he couldn’t - I mean - they couldn’t print put something like that! Could they?”

“Oh sure, if they were careful not to be too blatant about it.”

“Well, Tom, as much as I think Ford here should pay for his indiscretion, I don’t think that’s the kind of publicity we want.”

“I agree, Mack. Everyone knows Spencer here is a shoe-in for State. Besides, Sam owes me a favor. He’d probably agree to bury the film... if we offer him something else in return.”

The ref gave the Coach a meaningful look. The Coach smiled back.

“Sure. Why not?”

“Then I’ll call down to the floor and have him sent up here.”

The ref used a cell phone to call down to the meet and told someone to send Sam, the photographer, up.

Ford sat still and tried to look humble. He hoped like hell that the pictures wouldn’t get out... and also that the ref would let his win stand.

The photographer sauntered in, camera bag on his shoulder, notepad in hand.

“What’s up?”

“Sam, you can’t use those photo’s.”

The seedy journalist gave him a calculating look.

“You know I probably can. It’s too good a story to resist.”

“But you won’t. Coach MacAnally is prepared to let you have an - intimate - interview with Spencer here. Special photo shoot. What do you say?”

His eyes narrowed.

“How special?”

The ref —Tom—took off his whistle and handed it to the Coach, who had been holding Ford by the elbows. The man put one hand against his naked chest and gently pushed him back onto the bench, as the Coach pulled his arms around underneath.

“Wh - what are doing? Coach?”

He felt some fussing at his wrists and then realized with a shock that the Coach had tied his hands together using the whistle string!

“The Coach says you’re a good boy. How good are you?”

He felt the ref’s hand slide in under the towel to grasp his cock and gasped.

“No—oh, no, please don’t do this...”

Tom ripped off the towel, grabbed Ford’s ankles and lifted them up, handing them to Ford’s Coach. The young jock’s cock and ass were vulnerably exposed. With his legs in the Coach’s iron grip, and his hands tied beneath the bench, he was completely at their mercy.

“This kind of interview ‘special’ enough for you, Sam?”

The photographer’s eyes lit up, and he popped the lens cap off his camera.

“No—No! You can’t do this please don’t! No! Nooo-mmmMMMFF!”

Tom had shimmied out of his black shorts and peeled off his jock strap... and stuffed it in Ford’s open mouth. The mature ref’s crotch sweat was pungent and acrid.

Suddenly the other man dove down and began to suck his shaved nut sack. The Coach scooted up on the bench, propping Ford’s head on his lap so that he was forced to watch the man work his tongue on his exposed private areas..

Ford squirmed in shame as the photographer began clicking away, but his cock began to lengthen in spite of his best efforts to make it behave.

The man buried his face in Ford’s groin, sucking and slurping at his cock and balls, forcing his tongue into the freshly-showered ass.

“Mmm... sweet jock butt. You taste as good as you look...”

The camera clicked and flashed.

Ford looked at the grinning photographer, begging him with his eyes.

Please, he thought. Please don’t do this...


After a while the Coach stood, holding Ford’s ankles in one strong hand. With the other he slipped off his sweat pants, pulled his cock out of his strap, and began to beat off right over Ford’s face as he watched Tom suck his jock slave’s asshole.

Ford could feel the man’s scratchy beard stubble on his smooth-shaved ass crack. The rough tongue whipped and thrashed in his butt hole, opening his tight ass, getting it ready. It felt fantastic, and even as Ford’ cries of protest were muffled by the gag, he was beginning to whimper with pleasure.

The ref pulled away, breathing hard, face slicked with spit. He tore off his black-and-white striped shirt, spit in his hand, and began lubing up his long, hard, dick.

Ford’s eyes grew huge and he bucked and struggled, yelling into the gag. The Coach glared down at him.

“Now, Ford, this guy is doing us a favor. A big, big, favor. I expect you to be grateful. Now. I’m going to take out your gag and I want you to say, ‘Please fuck my ass’, Mister.”

Ford shook his head. The Coach snarled at him, teeth flashing.

“Say it, you slut!” he hissed.

Ford swallowed, tasting Tom’s ball sweat, and nodded. The Coach pulled out the sodden strap. Looking away, Ford muttered, “P - please. Please... Mister... Please fuck my ass...”

The man’s knob began pressing into him, and Ford squirmed and arched his back, gasping as the long curved tool impaled him. When it was in to the hilt, the man twisted his hips, grinding his fat knob hard against Ford’s prostate. The men snickered as the captive jock’s cock began to burp pre-cum. Ford felt his face burn with shame as he began to work his hips, helping the cock do its work.

The man began a slow fuck, eyes half-closed in pleasure, moaning as Ford’s tight ass caressed his dick. Ford bit his lip, trying to stay quiet, but as the man picked up his pace, Ford was making little helpless whimpers of pleasure.

The man’s brown eyes were now glowing with lust, and he growled.

“Yeah. Yeah, take it, you jock slut. Think you’re all such hotshots, think it’s all about you and your precious championships. Yeah. Well you’re all just fucking ass candy, waiting to get screwed good. Have a man fuck you. Rape those hot little bubble butts you flaunt in the showers. Yeah.”

Overhead, Ford could see the Coach pounding his big cock with his meaty hand. The jock shuddered as a drop of bitter-sweet precum splashed into the back of his throat.

The man stared at Ford’s open pink lips as he fucked him.

“Does your jock boy here eat ass, Mack?”

“Yeah. Oh yeah. Good at it.”

The man leered. “I’d love to see him eat ass while I fuck him. Stick his tongue up a man’s ass, lick him out good. Yeah.”

The Coach gave a roaring laugh and handed Ford’s ankles back to Tom. The ref slid his hands inside Ford’s knees and forced his thighs back, pinning them against his chest, raising his trim hips to a better fucking angle.

The Coach flipped his hairy thighs over Ford’s head, facing away from Tom, and began to lower his meaty, shaved ass crack onto Ford’s face.

“No! Please! PLEASE! ...Mmff... GGnk... Bbrpt!!!”

The Coach leaned over, pressing his sweaty, starchy balls against Ford’s eyelids, showing his ass crack so that the ref had an awesome view of Ford’s flickering pink tongue as it dug into the Coach’s musky rectum.

“Oh, fuck...” the photographer muttered. He had been so mesmerized that he hadn’t taken any pictures since the ref slid his cock in the jock’s ass. He made up for it now, camera clicking and whirring as he got shot after shot, with perfect close-ups of the cock violating his spread ass, and shots of his slavering tongue dancing in the Coach’s hole, and the shiny string of sticky boy sap drooling from his untouched cock...

The photographer whimpered and continued to shoot with one hand as he fumbled with his zipper and tried to free his throbbing dick. Stumbling over his falling trousers, he hopped over to his camera bag and took out the small tripod and remote cord.

Fingers trembling with lust, he set the camera up on the next bench and framed the shot so it would show all of Ford’s body, as well as the two men from the chest down. He gave up trying to kick his pants off over his dress shoes and knelt next to Ford, humping his hard-on against the bench leg. Using the remote cord, he clicked shot after shot. Using his free hand, he grasped Ford’s sticky cock and began to stroke it.

Ford shuddered helplessly as he felt Sam start to jerk him off. He whimpered into the Coach’s butt as he squirmed, trying to keep the cum corked up inside his tightening nut sack.

Tom’s cock was long and curved, and his fat wide helmet pummeled Ford’s prostate with each and every thrust. Ford’s head spun with the ripe smell of the Coach’s ass crack, and Sam’s hand jerked him rough, hard, fast, pushing him closer and closer...

Above all, the thing that was making Ford lose it was the constant click of the camera. Each time the shutter snapped, Ford’s skin burned with shame as he imagined how he looked... naked... helpless... fucked... face buried in a man’s ass... grinding his hips... thrusting his dick with forced pleasure...

Ford felt his body tense and arched his chest as the column of red-hot smegma built to the blasting point... holding... holding...


Ford’s squealing cries of pleasure were muffled by the Coach’s deep buttocks. The rough hand milked him hard, sending thick boy cream spewing in a laser beam above his torso to splat directly into the Coach’s ass crack. The hot semen flowed down the gutter of the man’s buttocks, and Ford ate his own load as it dripped across the Coach’s anus.

Tom slammed his hips against Ford’s hard buttocks, stabbing the jock over and over with his sharp man-spear. Chest heaving, eyes gleaming, Tom tilted his head back and let out a roar as his seed blew deep into the boy’s bowels.

“AAAAHHHHH!!! YEAHHHHHH!!! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Take my cock you jock whore! Take it! Take it!!!”

The Coach pulled up and jammed his dick into Ford’s mouth. He plowed it deep into the boy’s throat and grunted as buckets of cream spewed into the jock’s gulping gullet.

Flat on his back, dress pants still tangled around his ankles, Sam slowly raised his head and looked at his ruined shirt. He gave a rueful smile and lay back. Chuckling softly, he milked the last few drops from his spent dick.

What a shoot. Jeez. Sam couldn’t wait to start developing the film. It would be perfect for the February issue of Bound & Slagged Magazine...




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