I had always hoped I would be able to go to the Superbowl one day. Not that I particularly liked football, but even I can appreciate the excitement and amazing atmosphere of the most watched event of the year. Of course, I had never thought that my first Superbowl would be like this...

A couple days ago I was hitting the gaybars seeing if I could get a quickie with some stranger here in Arlington, Texas. I found myself in one of the higher-class uppity joints where those rich closeted queers go to get off. I was hanging around in the bathroom eyeing the nice-looking rich guys coming in and out. The door flung open and in came a clearly drunk middle-aged man. He was slightly taller than my 5'8 height and he had quite the hairy body, most unlike myself. I try to avoid the phrase twink, but let's face it, there's really no other term for someone with my ridiculously young looking body. I'd decided to pass on this guy, but then he staggered forth and gripped my arm rather tightly considering his drunken state. He was slurring badly, but I managed to extract that he wanted me to blow him off. I was about to throw him off of me and storm out, but then I saw the nice wad of cash that was being held tightly in his other fist. I've never done anything for money before, but the rent was coming up soon, and I figured I could use a nice supplement. It wouldn't take long, and I'd get some nice cash out of it. No harm no foul, right? So I followed him into the booth and I got to work. I'll skip the grimy details, and I assure you it wasn't much interesting anyways. It was over in a few minutes, I was thoroughly disgusted with myself, and I was about to walk away. But by then the shock of the blow-job must have sobered up the man a little bit and he grabbed my arm once again. I turned to look at him and he was smiling lopsidedly. Then he offered me a job.

He was an assistant coach for a football team, and he explained to me that during the games, his players sometimes desperately needed to get off. Having a raging erection while trying to win a football game wasn't exactly ideal, so he had been charged with finding a way to solve the situation. Now, sneaking young attractive girls into the locker rooms wouldn't have been easy, and would have drawn a lot of questions. But his team employed tons of young-ish towel boys for the locker rooms and adding in a few extras wouldn't draw any outstanding attention. all I needed to do was show up in uniform to the games every weekend and when the players needed it, they could signal to me and I would go 'help them out' in a private room. He said the pay would be good, and they'd fly me out with the team wherever they had an away game. I wasn't the biggest fan of muscular guys, but the football players were generally fairly attractive, and the pay really was good. So I accepted.

I worked the first few games without a problem, usually there were one or two players needing 'assistance' every game. They called me over, led me to the private room, pulled down their pants, and I got to work. It was quick, shameless, and easy. They really didn't want anything to do with me, just my mouth. They might be getting sucked off by a gay boy, but that didn't mean they were any less straight. Not once did anything odd or unexpected occur. It was really just easy money.

As it turned out the team I had been hired by was in the top of the league and that first season they had done exceedingly well. The closer they got to the end of the season, and the more victories they got, the more the players needed me to service them. It must've been all the excitement of the games getting them all hot and bothered. Some of them, as they got used to me, started getting a little rough, but it was mostly innocent. Just the adrenaline causing them to grip my hair tightly and maybe ram their hips in a little harder. Nothing I couldn't handle. The last game of the season, in the semifinals, one player, a receiver, got particular excited after a touchdown and he was thrusting rather hard. He pulled out of my mouth a little before his climax and he must've forgotten the fact that I was a boy and went to stick his tool into me. When he realized what he was doing he stood there dumbfounded a little bit and told me to finish up. I did, and he left without a word, his roughness gone. The team went on to win the game and they were going to the Superbowl. Even I was excited with the chance to go to the Superbowl with a team so close to victory.

They flew us out there and I hung out in the locker room waiting for my skill set to be needed. A few of the players asked for some good luck hand jobs, and I gladly fulfilled their demands. It wasn't until the half-time show, though, that someone really needed me. It was the same guy from the last game. His name was Tommy, and he was pretty impressive looking. He was easily a half foot taller than me and his lightly tanned skin shone with sweat. His leg muscles were enormous and bulged everytime I saw them. From those times I knew he was pretty well equipped too. His nine and a half inches always made me tremble when it came towards me. Though it didn't show on his bare arms, he was all hairy, which was sort of a turn off, but who was I to tell him what to do. He expected servitude, and that's what I gave him.

So far the game had been going badly and Tommy had missed quite a few passes. He was furious and he'd snuck off during the half-time show for some relief. He approached me quickly and grabbed me by the shoulder, forcing me into the private room. Without hesitations he forced me to my knees and pulled down his pants.


That was all he said and I feared to do anything else. I started to lick the head of his raging hard tool, just little flecks of my raspy tongue against the slit of the head, teasing him into further excitement. He seemed to enjoy the slow pace I was taking, and he didn't even push his head against my lips that hard. I started to lick up and down his tool, hitting my nose against his dark wiry pubes before coming back up and slowly going over the head. After a minute of this slow and sensual attack I took the whole head into my mouth and started to run my tongue all over it. He groaned as I worked on the head and began to thrust a little, putting an unexpected two inches into my mouth. I chocked a little, but I regained my composure and started to go up and down on his tool, taking an extra inch further every few trips. I was holding steady at five of his total nine and a half inches, and I wasn't sure how much more I could take. His stamina was amazing, and he wasn't anywhere near to climaxing yet. I kept working his head and the top of his tool with my tongue, but he seemed to be growing impatient with me. After a few more moments he started rocking his hips faster than I was moving my head and he put his hand on the back of my head, gripping their hair tightly. He'd pushed me to seven inches and he was ramming into the back of my throat, almost as if he wanted to stick his tool all the way down my throat. I'd never deep-throated him or anyone else before, but he seemed determined. He kept pushing and pushing, thrusting forward as he violently pushed my head towards him. His pubes started to tickle my nose again. He was getting more and more excited, moaning and groaning constantly as I tried to catch my breath. Suddenly he thrust even harder than before and I could feel his head move past the back of my mouth into my throat. It hurt, but he was enjoying himself too much to notice. I tried to pull all the way back, but he kept me firmly in place, rocking back and forth entering and re-entering the back of my throat. I normally got hard during these sucking sessions, and I could feel myself blowing already from the sheer force of the situation. With one final thrust, forcing his tool all the way in with my nose jammed deep into his pubes, he started to climax. Thick ropes of come went flying down my throat, and I did my best to keep it all in. It kept coming and coming, and he showed no sign of relenting as he kept his tool stuck firmly to the back of my throat. Eventually the streams stopped coming and he pulled back slowly, letting me clean off the bits of come that I had missed before he pulled out of my mouth with a pop. By that time the half-time was nearly over and he pulled up his pants and went out to meet his teammates, leaving me on my knees with come dripping from the side of my mouth, dazed. After a few minutes I collected myself and cleaned myself up. No matter how good the pay and how nice the bonuses were, nothing was worth this. I would stick it out for the rest of the game and tell that rotten old queer that I was quitting. As it was I went back into the locker room, and waited for the clock to tick down.


It had been over for a half hour, and my team had lost. Badly. The atmosphere was terrible and Tommy was the most furious of all. I would have left quickly, but I got drafted into helping clean up the room before I could protest. The players started to file out, but Tommy stayed behind, taking extra long to get his stuff together, really just sitting there with a towel wrapped around his waist. He'd taken a shower while I was cleaning and came back after the others had left me to finish up. He was hard again, and he made no move to hide it. In fact, I could see his tool sticking out from the towel every now and then. He just sat on the bench watching me work with his eyes still bloodshot and furious, and I didn't dare say a word about it.

I had finished cleaning up and I was locking some cabinet, with my back turned to him. Suddenly, a shadow fell over me and two heavy hands came crashing down on my shoulders. I tried to shout, but no words could come out. The hands forced me on my knees again, and turned me around to face my attacker. It was Tommy, with his hard tool poking a large tent in the towel. He didn't take it off, though. Instead he commanded me.

'Take it off. Boy.'

I refused. He tightened his grip on my shoulders. The pain was stinging, and he repeated himself.

'Take. It. Off... Boy.'

This time, I didn't refuse. My fingers were trembling, and I fumbled with the knot in the towel. By this time my face was right above the long hard tool under the towel. Eventually I got it loose and the towel fell to the floor, dragging his tool down before it sprung free from the grasp of the towel and came back up to smack my chin. The precome was oozing from the tip of his tool and he didn't hesitate to stick it right up to my lips, putting pressure on them, trying to penetrate into the soft warm confines of my mouth.


He commanded me once more, and this time I didn't hesitate for a moment. The task was daunting, but I found myself still oddly excited, despite the forceful nature of it all. He was in control, and I loved it. I opened up my lips and his tool thrust forward, nearly hitting the back of my throat right off the bat. There would be no more foreplay tonight. He thrust and I let him grab my hair again and force me onto his tool, ramming into the back of my throat. I could have done it myself, but for some reason his forcing it made me hotter and harder. He penetrated the back of my throat, but after a few thrusts he started to say something. I was too distracted to hear it, but I managed a strangled sound to indicate my questioning.

'I'm going to fuck you, boy.'

He snarled, pulling me off his tool by my hair. I went immediately to take off my pants and get on my back, but he didn't let go of my hair and he yanked hard.

'On your knees, boy.'

I nearly came right then and there. He pushed me down onto my knees and I stuck my round butt into the air, ready for his entry, though my clothes were still on. He grabbed the waistline of my sweats and pulled them down in one fell swoop. then he grabbed my tight briefs with his hands and teeth and ripped them off, leaving some of his saliva drooling off my bare bottom. His hands grasped each of my cheeks and forced them apart, massaging the meat of them with his thumbs. He spit on my very lightly haired crack and used a finger to massage the saliva into the crack, lubricating it. As it happened I was a virgin to penetration, and I knew it was going to hurt. But in that moment, I didn't care.

He spit again and this time his finger thrust into my crack, feeling around as it explored the unfamiliar territory. He began to thrust his finger in and o0ut roughly, not letting me adjust. In a few moments he added a second finger, hooking into my crack before pulling out. The second led to a third, but thankfully he stopped there, jabbing his fingers into my crack as I moaned in pain and ecstasy. I was harder than I had ever been before but he gave no mind to me, nor could he even see it underneath his goal. Though the fingering and the pain it caused me helped, it would not satisfy his fury, and there was only one way he could really expend it upon me. He withdrew his fingers and brought them around to my mouth, jamming them in.


I sucked greedily at them, knowing any refusal would be bad for me. Meanwhile he massaged his tool with his free hand, keeping it hard and pulsating. When he was satisfied with my cleaning of his fingers, he pulled them out and once again grasped each cheek, spreading them as far apart as possible. He didn't even bother with a condom, and I didn't dare raise my voice and tell him to put one on. His head touched my crack and he stayed there for a moment, just running his slit up and down my crack. Then he jammed in and his inches penetrated me like nothing I could have ever imagined. He was taken with it, and started to rock back and forth without pause. I screamed and he didn't even notice. The moment his pubes hit my bare bottom I started to come, and once again he didn't care. His focus was solely and entirely on the penetration he was inflicting upon me. Time seemed to stand forever and every jab was just as painful and amazing as the previous one. I thought he would never stop, even as his hands gripped the skin on my back with terrible force. He thrust forward as hard as he could and stayed there, forcing me into a fetal position with his hands as he hit me with his come. It seemed even more than last time as string after string went into me. Eventually it slowed just like last time and he pulled out with a pop. I was fully intent on staying in my fetal position and he mercifully allowed me to do so. But he wasn't done with me. Even as the come leaked from my crack, he came around to my front and stuck his tool right into my face. Amazingly, it was still semi-hard.

'Clean it off.'

He didn't even wait for a response, he just shoved his tool into my mouth and with the little energy I had left I started to suck and lick up the cum that was still on his tool. He didn't thrust, just left his tool there waiting for me to finish. When he was content, he pulled out and left the head less than an inch from my newly closed lips.

'Now kiss it.'

I was confused and didn't immediately oblige.

'Kiss. It. Boy.'

He snarled, and the point got through my foggy mind. I weakly moved the little distance and gave the head of his tool a light kiss, finishing the ordeal. He got up and went over to his locker, dressing himself. I lay there, wondering about whether or not that had just happened. When he was fully dressed he came back to me and left a small white card near my face. One it was an address and a name. Tommy.

'I'll see you tomorrow morning.'

When I got myself together, I pocketed the card, and I searched out the man I had sucked off oh so long ago. I did end up quitting my job with the team, after a quick blow job to avoid the contractual difficulties. I was working for a private individual now.



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