Ryan had agreed to film his first scene for Vanders after the pool photoshoot. He initially agreed to let Vanders handcuff him to a chair while Austin and Dustin took turns sucking his cock. Ryan figured that being handcuffed would make things feel less awkward and he’d feel less self-conscious if he’d only have to play a passive role. But the twins decided it’d be funner and sexier to surprise the handsome DILF and handcuff him while he was still in the pool.
Austin did just that, retrieving a pair of rubber handcuffs he’d set at the bottom of the pool and expertly using them to restrain Ryan’s wrists. Ryan tried to pull away, but Dustin aggressively made out with him, holding his head still, while Austin started rubbing his 7” cock against Ryan’s granite ass.
Ryan was undeniably turned on by this and the sexy dad began giving in and kissing Dustin back. Austin wrapped his hand around Ryan’s 8 inch cock and began stroking as he licked around Ryan’s stubble and earlobes. Unbeknownst to Ryan, several cameras were already set up in the pool area and filming every second of this.
The whiskey had set in and Ryan was now pretty drunk. The twins continued groping their hands over the handcuffed stud as they led him up the pool’s beach-style entry. Ryan started feeling incredibly turned on by the situation and he willingly let them guide him out of the pool. Ryan had to admit—it was hot as fuck to let two sexy twins manhandle him.
They threw Ryan down on a giant beanbag chair surrounded by camera. The sexy dad landed on his back with a thump, wondering what the boys were gonna do to him. Austin and Dustin smiled mischievously, their perfect white teeth glistening in the pool area lighting. Dustin ran a hand through Ryan’s messy, damp hair and said, “So, stud, ready to become a porn star?”
Ryan was so horny by now. He just slowly nodded, unable to resist the two young studs about to have their way with him while his hands were cuffed behind his back. Austin and Dustin looked at each other and high fived. Ryan closed his eyes as Dustin aggressively kissed him.
Ryan felt a warm tongue lap at his taint. Fuckkkk. Austin was giving Ryan an incredible rim job with his twin brother made out with the sexy DILF. Ryan moaned in a deep, masculine voice.
Dustin began lubing up Ryan’s cock and giving him a handjob. Shit. That felt so good to be rimmed and jacked off at the same time. Ryan’s entire body felt warm as he writhed in lust while getting pleasured by twin studs. He felt so blissful laying handcuffed on the large beanbag.
As Ryan’s cock was fully lubed up and throbbing, the twins switched positions. Dustin sat on Ryans face and ordered, “Rim, me, Daddy.” The handsome 37-year-old obliged, letting Dustin smoosh his muscular ass globes against the stubble on his angular face. Meanwhile, Austin sat on Ryan’s dick and guided it up his own ass. Dustin and Austin began making out while one twin rode Ryan’s cock and the other rode Ryan’s face.
“You like that, Daddy? You like pleasure both our asses at the same time? Yeah…fucking use that tongue. Lick my jock ass.”
Ryan moaned enthusiastically, feeling incredibly aroused that he was pleasuring two twins at once. After a short while, the twins switched positions, with Austin now sitting on Ryan’s face while Dustin rode his cock.
Austin taunted mischiviously, “Get your tongue in their real deep now. I want you to fucking taste your own precum from my asshole.”
That dirty talk pushed Ryan over the edge. He began trembling uncontrollably while he shot his load up Dustin’s ass. He stopped licking Austin’s crack while he orgasmed, and exclaimed. “Sh—shittt. Oh shit, I’m cumming. Fuck, I’m breeding your hole, dude.”
Both twins laughed, but found it extremely hot to know they made one of the sexiest DILFS in Texas jizz. While Ryan was still handcuffed, Dustin squatted over his head and let Ryan’s own cum drip down over his face. “Open your mouth, Daddy, this’ll be hot,” Austin said. In a post-orgasmic haze, Ryan complied. Most of the cum dripped onto his forehead, but some of it landed on his lips and he tasted his own jizz.
“Shit. Dude you look so fucking hot with cum on your face. Just stay there for a sec while we get off okay?” The twins began to jack off over Ryan’s face. “Bro, let’s see who can cum faster this time,” Dustin quipped. Austin won, shooting five hot loads all over Ryan’s face. Dustin followed about two minutes later. By the time he finished, Ryan’s face was completely glazed. He couldn’t believe how dirty and depraved this whole situation was and as ready to have the boys undo his handcuffs.
Before he had a chance to speak, he heard Vander’s voice from behind. “Great job lads. Now let’s add just one more load to the mix before the night’s over.” Ryan heard a belt unbuckle and soon Vander’s hard cock came to view. Ryan was turned on all over again. He knew he wanted it. The masculine 37-year-old stud opened his mouth like an obedient slut.
---
Chase stirred awake to the gentle sensation of soft lips pressing against his neck. For a moment, he melted into the warmth, his body responding instinctively to the tender kisses trailing along his skin. Mason's familiar scent—a mix of soap and that distinctive youthful musk—filled his senses as his friend's mouth found the sensitive spot just below his ear. Mason hungrily kissed his friend’s neck and then let his hands roam up Chase’s muscular torsoe until his fingers reached the erect nipples and caressed them.
"Mmm, Mason," Chase murmured, his voice thick with sleep and arousal. But as consciousness fully returned, reality crashed over him like cold water. He gently but firmly placed his hands on Mason's shoulders, creating space between them. "Hey, wait. We need to talk."
Mason pulled back, his blue eyes clouded with confusion and hurt. "What's wrong? I thought... after last night...I mean, last night was pretty awesome, bro."
Chase sat up, running a hand through his tousled brown hair. The morning light streaming through the window highlighted the conflict written across his handsome features. "Last night was incredible, Mason. Really. But we need to think about this."
"Think about what?" Mason's voice carried a defensive edge that made Chase's chest tighten.
"We're about to be teammates, man. If we both make varsity—which we probably will—things are gonna get complicated. Team dynamics, locker room situations, all that stuff." Chase reached out and squeezed Mason's arm reassuringly. "I care about you too much to let this mess up our friendship or make things weird on the team."
Mason's face fell, and for a moment he looked younger than his eighteen years. "So that's it? One night and we're done?"
"I'm not saying we can't explore this eventually," Chase said carefully. "But maybe right now isn't the best time. And honestly? I think you should experiment with other guys too. Figure out what you really want without the pressure of it being me, you know?"
The hurt in Mason's eyes was almost too much to bear, but Chase pressed on. "You're incredible, Mason. Any guy would be lucky to be with you. But you deserve to explore who you are without complications."
Mason was quiet for a long moment, staring down at his hands. When he finally looked up, there was a mix of sadness and understanding in his expression. "Yeah... yeah, maybe you're right. It's just... this is all new for me."
"I know, buddy. And that's exactly why you should take your time with it." Chase's phone buzzed on the nightstand, providing a welcome distraction from the heavy moment. He glanced at the screen and felt his pulse quicken.
Jamie: Hey stud, can't stop thinking about you since yesterday. Want to grab coffee before tryouts? I'd love to get to know you better :)
Chase smiled slightly. Jamie's bold flirtatiousness always caught him off guard, but there was something undeniably appealing about the cheerleader's confident, playful energy.
"Who's that?" Mason asked, noticing Chase's reaction.
"Jamie," Chase said, pocketing the phone. "He wants to hang out this morning."
Mason nodded, forcing a smile. "See? Universe is already giving you options. Maybe this is a sign."
They got dressed in comfortable silence, the easy intimacy of the previous night replaced by a slightly awkward tension. As they headed downstairs for breakfast, Chase couldn't shake the feeling that things between him and Mason would never be quite the same. He slightly regretted messing around last night, hot as it was at the time.
After a quick breakfast with Mason's family, Chase headed into town. The morning air was crisp, carrying the promise of another hot Texas day. He found Jamie already waiting outside the coffee shop on Main Street, looking effortlessly stylish in fitted jeans and a crop top that showed off his toned midsection.
"There's my handsome football star," Jamie called out, his bleached blonde hair catching the sunlight as he practically bounced over to Chase.
"Hey, Jamie." Chase couldn't help but smile at the other boy's enthusiasm. "What's this coffee thing about?"
Jamie's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Well, first, I'm buying you coffee. Then we're going for a walk in Riverside Park. And then..." he stepped closer, lowering his voice to a theatrical whisper, "I'm going to properly ask you on a date."
"Jamie..." Chase started, but the cheerleader held up a finger.
"Nope, no protests. I've been thinking about our encounter in the shower, and I want more. Not just the physical stuff—though that was incredible—but actual time together. Getting to know each other." Jamie's usual sass was tempered by genuine sincerity. "So today is officially our first date, whether you realized it or not."
Chase found himself charmed despite his reservations. There was something refreshing about Jamie's directness, his refusal to play games or pretend to be anything other than exactly who he was.
They spent the next two hours walking through the park, talking about everything from their favorite movies to their college plans. Jamie was funnier than Chase had expected, with a sharp wit that went beyond his flirtatious persona. When Jamie stopped suddenly and pulled Chase behind a large oak tree, pressing their lips together in a soft, lingering kiss, Chase didn't resist.
"You taste like cinnamon," Jamie murmured against his lips.
"From the coffee," Chase replied, but he was smiling.
"I like it." Jamie's hands rested on Chase's chest, and Chase could feel the warmth of his palms through his shirt. "I like you, Chase Huxley. Your kindness, your strength, the way you don't try to be someone you're not. And yes, I like how incredibly hot you are, but that's just a bonus."
Chase felt something flutter in his chest—something different from the comfortable familiarity he had with Mason. Jamie had a way of making everything feel like an adventure, like the world was full of possibilities.
"You're pretty amazing yourself," Chase admitted. "I like how... free you are. How you're not afraid to go after what you want."
"Good," Jamie grinned, "because what I want is another date. And another after that. I'm going to charm the pants off you, Chase Huxley."
"I think you've already started," Chase laughed. “…literally.”
Jamie took Chase back to his car and drove a couple minutes to a secluded parking lot. The two 18-year-old seniors got into the backseat. Jamie pulled Chase's underwear and pants down and began sucking voraciously on the already-hard cock. Within a few minutes, Chase began moaning uncontrollably as he jizzed into the blonde twink's expert mouth. Jamie swallowed every drop. As he did so, he kept eye contact with Chase, making sure the jock stud knew how much he enjoyed pleasuring his 6-inch cock.
Jamie wasn't expecting it, but Chase returned the favor, sucking and jacking Jamie off until they both came. Jamie asked to cum on Chase's chest. "Fuck yeah, dude. Shoot your load all over my chest. You like my pecs?" Jamie nodded enthusiastically, and then quickly ejactulated over Chase's muscular body. Feeling dirty, he rubbed his cum onto Chase's torso like it was body lotion. Chase liked how dirty Jamie was and let the naughty twink rub it in. It kinda turned him on to get covered in another man's cum like that.
-----
Later that afternoon, Chase and Mason arrived at the football field for the final day of tryouts. The atmosphere was electric with nervous energy as the remaining hopefuls prepared for what would determine their fate for the upcoming season.
In the locker room, Chase spotted the familiar faces of those who'd made it this far. Jake was there, his tall frame and serious expression unchanged from the previous days. But Chase's attention was drawn to a new face—Marcus Kim, a strikingly handsome senior he'd heard about but never really talked to. Marcus was half-Korean, half-Caucasian, with perfectly styled black hair and features that could have belonged on a magazine cover. His athletic build was evident even beneath his workout clothes, and Chase found himself stealing glances as they changed.
"Nervous?" Mason asked quietly, sitting beside Chase on the bench.
"A little," Chase admitted. "You?"
"Terrified," Mason grinned. "But the good kind of terrified."
Their conversation was interrupted by Bull's booming voice echoing through the locker room. "Alright, listen up, new meat!"
Bull strode in with Diego close behind, both seniors carrying large gym bags with knowing smirks on their faces. The returning varsity players began filtering in, forming a semicircle around the four hopefuls.
"Congratulations on making it to the final day," Bull announced, his chest puffed out with authority. "But before you can earn your spot on this team, you need to prove you're committed. That you're willing to do whatever it takes."
Diego stepped forward, dumping the contents of one of the bags onto the floor. A pile of worn, obviously used jockstraps tumbled out, and the smell hit them immediately—a pungent mixture of sweat, musk, and days' worth of accumulated funk.
"Each of these has been worn by a varsity player for the past three days," Diego explained with a wicked grin. "No washing, no cleaning. Pure, concentrated team spirit."
Chase felt his stomach clench, though whether from disgust or unexpected arousal, he couldn't be sure. The scent was overwhelming—masculine and primal in a way that made his head spin.
"You've got to be kidding," Jake muttered, his face pale.
"Dead serious," Bull replied. "Each of you picks one and wears it for the entire practice. Consider it your first lesson in team unity."
Marcus stepped forward first, his expression stoic as he selected a particularly worn-looking strap. "Whatever it takes," he said simply, his voice carrying a slight accent that Chase found intriguing.
Mason looked green around the gills but followed suit, grabbing one quickly as if speed would somehow make it less awful. Jake hesitated longer but eventually chose one with obvious reluctance.
That left Chase with the final jockstrap—one that looked like it had seen particularly heavy use. As he picked it up, the scent hit him full force, and he had to suppress a involuntary shiver. The smell was intoxicating in its intensity, purely masculine and somehow comforting in its rawness. He felt his face burn with embarrassment at his body's reaction, hoping nobody noticed the way his breathing had changed.
"Atta boy, Chase," Bull said with approval. "I can see you're really embracing the team spirit."
Suddently, each of the four new seniors was ambushed, one teammate each held there arms behind their back, while another took the jockstrap they selected and pressed it against the victim’s nose. Then, the returning varsity members began singing their school anthem. Chase, Mason, Marcus and Jake were each forced to inhale the stink of the dirty jockstraps for the whole minute of the rowdy singing.
After the anthem was over, the victims were released and ordered to put on the jockstraps. The players laughed, and Chase ducked his head, focusing on getting changed as quickly as possible. The feel of the worn fabric against his skin was strange—intimate in a way that made him hyper-aware of every sensation.
As the group began to file out toward the field, Bull ordered Chase to stay behind for a bit to help him with something. As Chase walked over to the corner where Bull was waiting, Bull suddently grabbed Chase's arm, pulling him aside. Before Chase could react, Bull had pushed him up against the lockers, his larger frame pinning Chase in place. The proximity was overwhelming—Bull's muscular chest pressed against him, the quarterback's warm breath on his neck.
"Hey!" Chase protested, but his voice came out weaker than intended. He and Bull were friends, and he was unused to the rough demeanor Bull was treating him with now that the hazing was beginning. Prior to tryouts, they were always equals.
"Listen good, Huxley," Bull's voice was low and husky, his face inches from Chase's. Chase could smell his cologne mixed with the lingering scent of the locker room. "I know I told you about Sara and me, but I thought you should know we're getting pretty serious. Like, really serious."
Bull's hand pressed against the locker beside Chase's head, effectively trapping him. "She can't stop talking about how much better I am than you ever were. In every way." His eyes dropped meaningfully before meeting Chase's gaze again. "She told me you're... let's say, not as generously equipped as I am. Said it's no wonder she was always left wanting."
Chase felt his face burn with humiliation, but to his horror, he could feel blood rushing south. The combination of Bull's dominant presence, the crude intimacy of his words, and the masculine energy radiating from the bigger boy was having an effect he desperately didn't want.
"Bull, what the hell—" Chase started, but his voice cracked slightly.
"She tells me everything, man. About how you were never really into her, how she always felt like she was competing with something else for your attention." Bull's smile turned predatory as his eyes flicked downward. "Guess she was right, wasn't she? Considering your new... interests."
“We were making out last night and she couldn’t get her hands off my fucking bulge. Haha. Fucking slut told me I’m a lot bigger than you. Can’t say I’m surprised.”
Bull's gaze lingered on Chase's crotch, and his grin widened as he noticed the telltale stirring beneath the borrowed jockstrap and grey athletic shorts. "Well, well, well. Look who's getting excited. You like this, don't you, Huxley? You like being pressed up against these lockers by a real man."
Chase's breath caught, his body betraying him completely. The humiliation only seemed to make his arousal worse, and Bull's knowing smirk told him his reaction wasn't going unnoticed.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Chase managed, but the words sounded unconvincing even to his own ears.
Bull leaned in closer, his lips almost touching Chase's ear. "Your body's telling a different story, pretty boy. Maybe Sara was right about more than just your size. Maybe she could sense what you really wanted."
Bull's free hand dropped to rest on Chase's hip, his thumb tracing a small circle that made Chase's knees nearly buckle. "Just remember, Huxley—this is my team, my field, my territory. And maybe... if you're good... I'll show you what a real man feels like." He fondled Chase’s junk, rubbing his big hands over Chase’s 6-inch cock and relatively small balls. Cute.
With that, Bull released him and stepped back, leaving Chase gasping against the lockers. As Bull walked away with a satisfied swagger, Chase stood there, his heart pounding with a mixture of adrenaline, fury, and undeniable arousal.
The casual cruelty of Bull's words, the way he'd used Sara to hurt him, the implicit threats—but underneath it all, the confusing rush of desire that Bull's dominance had awakened. It all crystallized into a burning, complicated determination. Having played sports throughout his entire life, Chase was used to being hazed. He wouldn’t let the intimidation and humiliation tactics interfere with his performance.
Fine. If Bull wanted to play games, Chase would show him exactly what kind of competitor he was dealing with. But as he tried to compose himself before heading to the field, Chase couldn't shake the memory of Bull's hand on his crotch, or the way his body had responded to being pinned against those lockers. He knew a wet spot probably formed in his sweaty jockstrap, from the copious amounts of precum Bull caused him to leak.
When they hit the field, Chase channeled every ounce of his anger, frustration, and confused desire into his performance. He ran routes with precision, caught passes that seemed impossible, and tackled with a ferocity that surprised everyone, including himself. The uncomfortable jockstrap became an afterthought as his focus narrowed to a single point: proving that Billy Bullock had seriously underestimated him.
But even as he dominated on the field, Chase couldn't forget the heat of Bull's body against his, or the way his pulse had raced when the quarterback called him "pretty boy."
