The Chosen Jock

Pulse exploded with sound and color as Coach Franco guided me inside, his grip sure, his intent clear. Every head turned. The lights caught each line of my body—tight tank, sheer pants, red jock beneath. My heartbeat matched the bass; my body felt alive. That night, I wasn’t just watched—I was claimed, the athlete on display.

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Copyright by Marathon Brad, 2025, permission given to Gay Demon to reprint this story. It may not be copied to another website without prior approval from the author.

Disclaimer:  This document contains some adult fictional material.  If it is illegal where you live to view adult material, please leave the site now. If you find adult material offensive, you should also leave now. If you have not left, then it is assumed you are either not illegal and/or not offended. I am happy you stayed.

May you continue to enjoy my latest story, The Chosen Jock: Office Boy


After we arrived at his back-alley garage, Coach Franco offered to carry most of my luggage bags into the house. It was late afternoon, around five o’clock, and he mentioned that for our first evening together he wanted to take me to a restaurant on Broad Street before heading to dance at a club on Walnut.

We were both a little sweaty from packing things on that warm spring day. Coach told me to shower first, so I slowly pulled off my tank top and running shorts before stepping toward the large tile shower. My fully exposed playful walk must have tempted him, because a few minutes later he surprised me by joining me inside.

Seeing Coach Franco’s strong, muscular body again made me smile. I welcomed Franco into the space and gave him a large hug to show my appreciation for his help today. Feeling his warm, hairy chest press against mine sent a rush through me, and I could feel myself harden instantly between us.

“Brad, I have enjoyed these last few weeks with you. I have wanted to explore your body since the time you began to wrestle on my college team,” whispered Coach.

Our first embrace and kiss lasted a long time as the warm water flowed over us. Coach lifted my arms above my head, fully exposing my underarms. I told myself I would not be the one to break the hold. I wanted to tease his tongue with mine while he kept me stretched like that. Our kisses felt soft and playful—like bubble gum. I was completely drawn to Coach Franco and wanted our last days together to move slowly. It was a bittersweet feeling.

When Coach turned off the shower, he lifted my dripping body with ease, carrying me like a prince before setting me gently on his extra-large king-size bed. My wet skin pressed against the bright white quilt, the soft fabric molding to my athletic frame. Coach’s deep brown eyes met mine with a bright smile, and for a moment, I felt like I was living inside a fairy tale.

As he lay down beside me, every small movement caused the quilt to ripple beneath us. If anyone had been watching, they would have seen the beginning of a tender, romantic scene. The quiet moments stretched into the stillness of early evening, the world fading away until it was just the two of us. I was mesmerized by how each touch from Franco blended strength and care. His hands moved slowly along my abs, tracing every muscle with intent and admiration.

 Coach broke the silence, “Do you know how much I admire you, Brad? Not just for your talented skills, but for the heart you put into everything you do.” His words were full with sincerity, and I felt his chest tighten with emotion.

“Coming from you, that means everything,” I replied. I looked up into Franco’s brown eyes as I lightly pushed him to lay flat on his back. Without thinking, I let my hand drift to Coach’s jaw, feeling the scruff of his unshaved face. “You have made me to be the best version of myself, Coach. Not just on the mat, but in life.”

Our foreheads then met, our breaths mingling in the space between us. Slowly our bodies moved in sync, the years of training together making every movement fluid, instinctive. Franco’s powerful arms wrapped me, encouraging my head to rest on his upper chest. There was no space between us, only the press of athletic muscle against athletic muscle, my youthful strength meeting a mature man's strength.

“This,” Franco whispered, “feels like something I have waited for since you arrived on campus.”

I turned up to coach’s face; my eyes filled with warmth and gratitude. “And it is only the beginning of our weekend,” he added.

My hand remained lightly laying on his warm muscular chest. “Coach,” I said softly, “I want to pleasure your body right now.”

He did not say anything at first, but the way his eyes locked on mine told me everything I needed to know. His hand brushed through my damp hair, and I felt my heart race.

I moved my head down Franco’s bare chest and abs—my breath hot against his skin—gradually taking my Coach’s hard stiff cock into my warm mouth. The taste of him was still fresh from the shower. His low moan of approval sent a shiver through me, spurring me to continue to go slow, savoring the taste of his desire. I sought to please him—no, I needed to please him—to show him that I was capable of more than he ever expected from his All-American stud wrestler.

My hands took a moment to encourage Coach to relax as I spread his body out on the bed. I made sure his legs made a nice open "V" shape that led up to his mid-section. I took his one arm farthest from my body and placed it behind his head, exposing his hairy arm pit. I wanted Franco to be as opened as possible as I pleasured him with my wet mouth.

“That’s it,” Coach whispered, his voice continued to remain low. “Just like that, Brad.”

Hearing him say my name with so much need, only made me want him more. I moved my mouth over his thick erect cock, my hands steadied myself on his hips as I worked to give him everything he deserved.

His fingers continued to tangle in my hair, guiding me gently, and I could feel the tension building in his body. “You have sucked so many cocks in the past few weeks that you are becoming so good at this,” he said, his voice still barely above a whisper.

I looked up at him as I went even deeper, my lips meeting the base of his shaft. His head softly fell back against the pillow, another deep moan escaped his throat, and I knew I had him right where he needed to be.

Coach’s grip on my hair tightened just slightly as his beathing grew heavier. I could feel his thighs tensing under my hands, his body showing signs of how close he was. The weight of his cock in my mouth, the way he moaned my name, and the heat radiating off his body made me want him even more.

“Brad,” his voice thick and unsteady, “I am close…so close.”

I made sure to lightly run a hand over his hairy chest, teasing his nipple. I wanted to use every ability to bring many joys and pleasures to his entire body.

My lips did not stop either. If anything, I worked harder, my tongue swirling around his cock's head and tip as I moved faster, determine to give his senses exactly what he needed. His hips began to rock against me, his control slipping as his body took over.

And then, with a deep quiet moan, he released his sweet tasty load into my mouth. His cum was hot and thick, filling my mouth as I swallowed every drop. I did not let up until I was sure he had given me everything. As his body relaxed beneath me, I pulled back, wiping my lips as I looked up at him.

Coach’s chest rose and fell with deep breaths, his face flushed. For a moment, neither of us said anything, but the look in his eyes told me he was pleased with his wrestling boy—and satisfied.

“You are incredible,” he finally said, his voice soft but full of emotion. His hand slid gently down my cheek as my face moved up his body again, his touch warm and tender. “I always knew you had a lot of fight in you, but this…” He smirked, shaking his head. “This is something else.”

I smiled back, feeling proud and a little bashful under his gaze. “I just wanted to make you happy Coach,” I said honestly.

“You did,” he said, sitting up and leaning down to kiss my forehead. “But the night is still very young and not over yet.”

I raised an eyebrow, curious. “What do you mean?”

He grinned, his handsome features lighting up. “We are getting you dressed for a night of dinner at a beautiful restaurant and dancing at a club,” Coach said. “Brad, Let’s have some fun.”

The idea of dancing with Coach, being out in public with him, made me excited. “Are you serious?”

“Of course,” he said, standing and grabbing a pair of black dress pants for himself. “You have earned it. And besides, he added with a playful smirk, “I want to show off my star wrestler.”

I could not help but laugh, already imagining the two of us on the dance floor. “All right, Coach,” I said, getting up. “Let’s go.”

Coach stood by his dresser, sifting through a neatly folded stack of new clothes with a look of deliberate focus, I sat on the edge of the bed, still catching my breath, watching his toned, olive-skinned hairy body move with ease. Finally, he turned toward me, holding up a snug black tank top.

“This,” he said with a grin, handing me the top. “You are going to look irresistible in this, Brad. It will show off those broad shoulders.

I swallowed hard as it hit me—Coach Franco had actually bought clothes for me. Along with the tight shirt, he handed over a brand-new red jock and a pair of pants that still had the tags on. A sly smile spread across his face as he held up the snug white pants. At first, they looked simple enough, but when he stepped closer, I saw how sheer the fabric was, leaving little to the imagination. The mix of the bold jock and the nearly transparent pants made it clear this outfit was meant to draw attention—and turn heads.

“Here,” he said, handing them to me. “Put these on. The pants will hug your legs perfectly, and the jock…well, let’s just say it will give everyone a good reason to stare.” His smirk deepened as his eyes traveled over me, as if he could already picture how I would look.  “You have nothing to hide, Brad. Trust me, you will look incredible.”

I hesitated for a second, holding the clothes in my hands, feeling the soft, stretchy fabric between my fingers. “You really want me to wear this?” I asked, half-shocked, half-intrigued.

“Absolutely,” Coach said with a grin. “You are a star, Brad. “Let’s make sure the men we see tonight will remember you.”

The beat of the music hit me the second we walked into the packed Pulse Night Club after our excellent dinner on Broad Street. Just as I felt eyes on me at the restaurant, I could feel men drawn to us as we stepped inside the club. Coach Franco had his hand on my back, steady and firm, like he was making it clear to everyone in the club that I was with him. Pulse was alive with energy, filled with handsome men dressed in sharp suits and crisp shirts.

I was nervous as hell. The clothing that Franco chose for me clung to my body. I was not sure I could pull this off, but the way Franco kept looking at me, with that proud smile of his, made me feel like I could. The tank top showed off my chest and the transparent light weight white pants highlighted my athletic bubble butt with every step I took. Add to the outfit the red jock, I felt like I had the word provocative written all over me.

“You see the way they are staring at you?” Franco leaned in close, his voice low but loud enough to cut through the music. “They may have never seen anyone like you before.”

I could not help but grin, even as my cheeks blushed a little. “They are staring at you, Coach, too,” I said, half-joking. “You are the one who looks like he belongs here.”

Franco laughed, “Tonight is not about me. It is all about showing you off. You have worked so hard, Brad, and it shows. You deserve to be seen a few more times before you leave Philadelphia.”

I was delighted to be with my handsome Coach, a man almost twice my age, as he led me out to the dance floor. The lights flashed all around us, bouncing off the walls and the crowd. Franco turned to me, his hands on my hips, and started moving to the beat. “Just follow me,” he said, his tone calm and steady, like he knew what he was doing.

Under the blinding lights, Franco wasted no time pulling me into the rhythm of the music. His hands guided my hips, his touch firm yet teasing, making sure everyone noticed. The heat from the crowd and the intensity of our movements left me glistening with sweat. My tank soon became drenched, clinging even tighter before Franco seductively slowly lifting it off entirely, baring my toned chest and abs, leaving me standing only in my soaked pants.

Franco pulled a small brown bottle from his pocket and brought it to my nose. He whispered to me, “Baby, inhale from this bottle as long as you can.” I followed his directions, still being naïve about what the smelling of the liquid from the bottle was actually doing to me.

I inhaled for what seemed to be about ten seconds before Franco put the bottle under my other nostril. Again, I inhaled for another ten seconds. I began to get a bit light headed, but felt so good and safe in my Coach’s arms. I was all his tonight. His Chosen Jock that he wanted to put on display for the men at the club.

Men around the dance floor began to circle, their tailored outfits contrasting sharply with my bold, revealing look that Coach had me wear. The eyes lingered, their interest unmistakable, as Franco kept me moving, showing me off like a prized possession. I moved to the music, my body finding a rhythm I did not even know I had as I just let it all go.

“You are amazing,” Franco said, his voice low but clear. His eyes locked on mine, and in that moment, I forgot about everyone else in the room. “I am so proud of you, Brad. Remember, you are everything I could ever had ask for in a college wrestler.”

I did not know what to say. My throat tightened, and a warm rush spread through my chest. My whole body tingled, a little light-headed from the small brown bottle I had just inhaled. All I could do was smile at him—because really, how do you keep responding to someone who will not stop saying such kind things to me?

We danced for what felt like forever, sweat making my skin shine under the pulsing lights. I could feel the eyes of other men on us, but for the first time, it did not make me self-conscious. It made me proud—like I belonged right there, moving with Franco, completely in the moment.

As we continued to move, I felt Franco begin to lower the back side of my pants to expose my muscular ass. I was lost in the lust of my Coach, willing to allow him to show me off. Franco’s fingers crept in between my glutes, sliding down until I eventually felt a finger enter my hole.

We stayed wrapped in each other, passionately kissing with the kind of intensity that drew every eye in the room. The dance floor slowly cleared until it felt like the lights and the music existed just for us, the center of attention. The DJ kept the rhythm steady, feeding the moment as we moved together beneath the spotlight.

Franco guided me with a teasing confidence, adjusting my clothes as though he wanted the crowd to see me exactly as he did. Each touch made me feel both exposed and cherished, the air thick with heat and attention.

With one of Coach’s fingers in my hole, the other hand helped to slowly slide my pants over my ass completely, forcing me to become almost fully exposed as my pants eventually was pushed all the way down. Franco was now down by my shoes; he lifted each of my feet to have me step out of the pants. I was now only wearing my red jock and shoes. When he finally stepped back, the look in his eyes told me everything—he was proud to have me there beside him, completely his.

“Brad, relax and just show it all off to the crowd,” said Coach Franco. His hands roamed all over my muscles. I was then given a chance to huff more from the little brown bottle in Coach’s hands. Glasses were being raised toward us in every direction we looked around the club.

After a while, Franco guided me to the bar, where a group of his well-dressed friends waited. They were strong, sharp-featured men with broad shoulders and confident smiles—wrestling referees Coach had known for years. I felt their eyes on me as they stepped closer, their presence forming a loose circle around where I stood.

Franco kept a firm, possessive hand on my shoulder as he presented me to the group. The air between the men and me felt charged, and the admiration in the handsome men’s expressions was impossible to miss. Their attention both flattered and overwhelmed me, and I could feel the heat rising in my chest.

“Brad,” Coach said with pride in his voice, “let me introduce you to some of the sharpest eyes in the sport of wrestling. These guys don’t just call matches—they live and breathe it.” A few of the men exchanged knowing grins, their compliments coming quick and easy—half in jest, half in awe—as if they were finally sizing up a wrestler they had only heard stories about until now.

“Franco was not exaggerating,” one of them said, giving me an approving glance. “Kid is built like he was carved for the mat.”

Another laughed softly, nudging Coach. “You always did have an eye for talent, Franco.”

Their teasing remarks made me blush, though I could not help smiling. Coach’s hand stayed firm on my shoulder, grounding me, his quiet pride shining through every introduction.

Each man was fit and strong in his own eloquent way: Jaxon, a blond with sharp blue eyes and a swimmer’s lean, defined frame; Diego, dark-haired, his touch as firm as his piercing stare; Trey, a quick-footed, light-skinned black man whose abs appeared to be sculpted by precision underneath his tight-fitting shirt; and Milo, compact but powerful, with piercing green eyes. The four men’s hands began to trace my exposed skin like they knew every muscle by heart. Together, they were a collection of masculine energy, their hands enjoying my nearly naked body with no hesitation.

A quiet moan slipped from my lips before I could stop it, my body giving in to the sensation. The dim lighting near the bar blurred everything together, and with the men standing so close, I could not tell which touch belonged to whom—only that their hands were on me, warm and deliberate.

Their laughter mixed with the beat of the music, low and teasing. I caught glances from one man to another—quick smiles, raised brows, a few playful remarks I could not quite make out over the sound. Every look seemed to dare me to blush a little more, to see how easily they could make me squirm under their attention.

“Look at him,” Coach Franco said, his voice thick with pride as he stood back, arms at his side. “I told you he is the real deal. Strong, sharp, and built like a college wrestling champion. Just imagine him on a mat, huh? Or better yet, right here.” His eyes lingered on me and the satisfied smirk on his face made it clear he was thrilled to put me on display for his friends to admire.

Before I could even process it, the referee who was named Jaxon, placed his hands at the lower half of my back, above the edge of my jock strap. As his fingers lingered to my ass hole, the touch so light, it sent shivers up my spine. The intensity of it all made my breath hitch as his fingers played with my opening. Jaxon was definitely showing an interest in my backside.

The other referees’ hands continued to explore, sliding over my chest, tracing the ridges of my abs, and teasing the curve of my thighs. Every inch of my skin seemed to tingle under their touch, and I could not help but feel my body react. The front pouch of my jock grew damp as my arousal leaked freely, the attention overwhelming me in the best way. I was feeling completely enveloped by the circle of these strong, confident men that surrounded me.

Let’s get him up there,” Jaxon said, nodding toward the bar.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Diego and Milo gripped my thighs, lifting me easily and sitting me on the cool, polished bar's wood. The room seemed to hum with approval as the men closed in again, their hands gliding up my calves, over my thighs and across my torso.

From the club speakers, Pitbull’s “Fireball” blasted throughout, the upbeat rhythm matching the heat of the moment. As the beat dropped, the song “Hotel Room Service” followed, its sultry energy making me feel like the center of the universe.

Coach Franco leaned against the bar, his grin widening. “You are handling this like a champ, Brad. I told you these guys would love you.” He turned to the group. “Isn’t he something? Strong as hell, disciplined, and the kind of young guy who thrives under pressure. You see why I could not keep this one to myself?”

Another older handsome man joined us from across the bar, his presence commanding but warm. His black hair shined under the club lights, and his hazel eyes locked onto me with intent. His tailored black shirt snugly fit against his muscular chest, emphasizing a confident, almost magnetic aura.

“Gentlemen,” the man said smoothly, his voice deep but inviting, “So this is Brad. Franco’s been singing your praises nonstop, and now I see why.” He extended his open palm up to me, gripping my arm firmly but warmly. “Welcome, Brad. You are exactly the kind of young energy we need around here this evening. I am the club's owner, Grayson Knight.”

Knight’s exclusive male gay dance club, Pulse, was on Walnut Street in Center City. At 48, I learned that he was already one of Philadelphia’s most talked-about figures in the nightlight scene. His club was not just another place to dance—it was an electrifying escape where every beat of the music seemed to pulse through your veins. From the sleek, modern interior to the hypnotic lights that flashed in sync with the rhythm, Pulse was everything men sought in a night out and more. The energy of the crowd mirrored Grayson’s own confident, magnetic presence. Tall, dark, and handsome, he had crafted this world with precision—his club, his rules.

Grayson stepped back as he watched the hands of the referees continue their teasing exploration. Fingers danced over my nipples and thumbs brushed the sensitive skin of my hips. Milo leaned in close, his lips grazing the shell of my ear as he whispered that I looked very hot sitting on the bar.

Franco’s pride only deepened as he watched the scene unfold. “This is just the beginning,” he said with a wink.

The music thumped louder, that steady beat that seemed to throb through my entire body. My senses were heightened—every touch, every glance, every sound sharper than ever.

Franco waved the bartender over to meet me. With tousled dark hair, smoldering green eyes, and a body lean, yet strong, I learned that his name was Theo Ryder. Appearing to be about 35ish, the charming bartender gave me a nod to my body’s little attire. His flirtation was subtle. Franco

had told me earlier that Theo was the heartbeat of Pulse’s bar and that he knew how to keep the crowd entertained.

Being ordered by Franco’s friends, Theo began to pass me shot after shot of tequila as hands lingered on my thighs, my abs, my shoulders. The tequila burned as it slid down my throat, the warmth spreading through me like liquid fire. My inhibitions melted away as Knight whispered in my ear, his hand sliding up my back.

“Show us what you have, Brad,” he said, his voice low and dripping with encouragement for me to stand on the bar top.

The spotlight clicked on, shining me in a pool of white-hot light. I was the center of attention now, the eyes of the room glued to me. The music shifted to something sensual and bass heavy, a track perfect for me to try and grind my hips. I started to timidly and instinctively move; my body being guided by the rhythm.

As I swayed my hips, I was being told to roam my hands over my chest and abs, teasing the crowd of men. Dollar bills started to rain down around me as men cheered and shoved tips into my jockstrap. My cock began to harden, the tight fabric struggling to contain me. Each movement made the outline of my erection more noticeable, the head of my cock starting to peek over the waistband.

Coach’s friends shouted their approval as Franco smirked, holding up his small brown bottle. I was asked to come over to Coach as one of the referees placed the bottle under my nose again. The rush hit me instantly, my head swimming with a dizzying euphoria as my hips ground harder to the beat.

My erection was impossible to ignore, the slickness of precum glistening at the head. The jockstrap strained to hold me, the head fully exposed now and drawing whistles and gasps from the crowd. Grayson kneeled on top of a high bar stool and waved me down to his head. He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear.

“That’s it, Brad. Let them see everything,” he purred, his hand resting on my thigh, dangerously close to my bulge.

The music shifted again, this time to a driving, seductive beat—something like “I Feel Love” by Donna Summer, remixed with heavy synths and a deep bassline. It was perfect for the moment, and the crowd was eating it up.

“You are a natural,” Coach screamed up to me, his eyes locked on me. “Keep going, boy. Show them why your new employer, The Milk Me Company, has hired you to be their Office Boy.”

Encouraged by the cheers, I humbly dropped to a crouch, grinding my hips before popping back up with a spin, my moves becoming bolder and more provocative. Tips kept coming, stuffed into my straps and waistband.

The heat of the spotlight, the pounding music, and the intoxicating mix of poppers and alcohol made me feel unstoppable. My cock throbbed, the pre-cum now heavily dripping freely down my shaft, leaving wet trails as I swayed and ground my hips. The pulsing of the music, crowd’s attention, the men’s hands on me—it all made my head spin, but I was not allowed to stop.

Franco and his four friends appeared to enjoy my energy, watching me from the side of the bar and motioning for me to move.

“Brad, come on over,” Coach Franco mouthed to me.

Franco had been watching me closely, holding his satisfied smirk on his face as he enjoyed his star wrestler’s show. However, he then did something unexpected. He reached into his pants pocket, pulling out my tiny white worn G-string. The material shimmered under the spotlight, totally translucent, a stark contrast to the roughness of the jockstrap I was wearing. He held it in front of me, his voice carrying over the music. “Time to change, Brad,” he said, his tone low and commanding. “Out of that jockstrap, and into something that will really show off your body.”

I hesitated for a moment as the anticipation of what he was about to have me do sent a thrill down my spine. The crowd was waiting, the energy intense, but Franco was in charge. His confidence made me submit without question.

“Come on,” he urged, his eyes glinted with mischief. “You are a star tonight. Show them more.”

With a nod, Coach helped me off the bar and covered me as I began to peel off the jockstrap, the fabric sticking slightly to my skin. For Franco and his wish, I did not hesitate to switched into my cum stained G-string, feeling the soft sensual material against my skin again. As I slid it on, the small piece of white fabric hugged my hips, the thin string barely covering anything, leaving little to the imagination.

Franco gave my G-string and me a look of approval. “That is better,” he said, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Now, let’s make sure that everyone gets a real good look at your body”

The spotlight seemed even brighter on me, the music even louder, and the heat of the moment—combined with the outfit change—made everything feel more special. Several men that I had never met, lifted me back onto the bar and told me that was where I needed to be.

“Move, Brad,” Coach urged again as I shifted to a new spot on the bar. The crowd responded with louder cheers. As the tips continuing to pour in, I learned to move more seductively, causing the transparent G-string pouch to be stretched to the max by my large erect cock.

The referees—Jaxon, Diego, Trey and Milo—were practically salivating at the sight, their eyes following my every move. They were all built like they could still hit the mats with the best of them. Milo, was the first to re-approach me, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

“Move around, boy,” Milo said, his voice low. “The more you give them, the more they will continue to love it.”

I half smiled, my head continuing to swim with the powerful mix of alcohol, poppers, and the heat of the moment. When I went back to the other side of the bar top, I noticed Theo’s eyes were fixed on me as he poured drinks for the patrons. The irresistible bartender moved around his bar, effortlessly serving drinks while exchanging smiles with me. Theo had a way of making everything feel just a little more intense, a little more alive

“Let them see you work it, Brad,” Theo called out, sliding another shot of whiskey toward me. “Move. Show them what you have as a wrestler.”

I crouched down to the bar and drunk the shot without hesitation, the liquor mixing with the poppers still lingering in my system, making me dizzy with pleasure. The lights above me dimmed for a moment, and I could hear the DJ adjusting the track—playing something deep and rhythmic that seemed to send vibrations straight to my core.

While I had my body squatted on the bar to drink one of the last shots, I felt Theo’s finger from behind flirt with my ass hole. The pleasure was felt instantly. With my mouth hanging open, I looked ahead to handsome, well-dressed men that I didn’t even know at the bar side. I felt for a moment I was being held down low by Theo’s other hand that was rubbing my back. This little force allowed Theo to repeatedly enter and fuck me with his finger into my hole. I imagined looking like a very horny boy letting out soft moans for men to hear.

The music dropped to a sultry baseline, and the spotlight snapped back on me. The DJ, now fully into the action, mixed in a remix of “Let’s Groove Tonight”, laying it with a deep bass-heavy drop that made the entire bar throb with the beat. The man controlling the lights joined in, manipulating the spotlights to show me in this slutty position as the crowd could easily figure out what Theo was doing with my pussy. However, as fast as Theo’s play began, he ended it by releasing his hold on my back and pushing me back up to dance some more. I could hear the DJ’s voice over the speakers, “Let’s hear it for Brad, everyone! He is killing it!”

The referees stood at the far edges of the bar whistling, practically hypnotized by my provocative movements. They leaned in closer, each one whispering something different to me, urging me to give more. The pre-cum continued to leak down my leg, as my G-string was completely stretch and soaked. The spotlight continued to be on me, the heat of the crowd and the lights making everything feel heightened. It felt like I could do anything, be anything.

As I approach the side of the bar where the referees were standing, Jaxon was the first to grab me, helping me off the bar and pressing my back against his chest. His hands were moving quickly around my entire exposed body, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered, "You were made for this, weren't you?" I did not need to answer—I already knew the answer.

With Jaxon continuing to stand behind me, I shuddered with the feel of him touching me. The other referees also flanked me, as well, as if marking me right there in front of everyone. I could feel all eyes on me, hungry, wanting. The crowd may have been around us, but all I cared about was Coach Franco’s and his beautiful referee friends—their strength, their control.

Franco stood back, arms continuing to be crossed, nodding as he watched. There was no question in his mind—he knew I would do exactly what they wanted. I appeared to be their wrestling stud, and they were about to make sure everyone knew it.

"Good boy," Franco murmured, and hearing that from him made me want to give them everything.

Jaxon tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. His smirk was dark, dangerous. "Think you can handle all of us?" His voice was low and teasing, and all I could do was nod. I was confused. With the poppers inhaled, shots drunk, I did not think about backing out on this experience. I wanted them, all of them, to have me.

Then, Trey's lips were on my ear, his voice a rough whisper, "Let's give this club something to talk about."

And just like that, I was theirs. There was no hesitation, no second thoughts—only desire. The crowd would get to watch as they took me, one by one, claiming me, using my body for their pleasure. I did not care who was watching. It did not matter. All that mattered was them—their strength, their control, the way these handsome athletic men made me feel.

With every touch, every move, I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be. I was their Good Boy, their stud for the evening at the bar, and I was not going to hold anything back.

Franco continued to just watch, his approval written all over his face. He was not surprised. He knew what I was capable of, what pleasure my body would enjoy. Coach appeared to not have a problem letting his friends enjoy me in front of everyone.

Theo smirked as he wiped down the counter, knowing this was a night no one would forget as he read the room. And neither would I.

As the intensity of the moment built with each passing second, the room faded as Coach Franco slid his little brown bottle under my nose one last time. I did what I was told to do. Inhaled for a long time in the right nostril and then the left. These last three hours at the club had been a blur.

I was totally lost in lust and wanted to please men. Still standing behind me, Jaxon told me to remove my G-string as he played with my nipples. I started to bend over to complete his request, but Milo saw how unsteady I was and knelt down to the floor and did the procedure for me. The spot light brightly shined on me and my now completely naked athletic body.

Trey and Diego stood on each side of me, taking my arm closest to them and draping it over their necks. The front of my exposed body—erect hard cock—was facing the crowd as the two men had me spread out my legs, beginning to run their free hands over me. Diego took the initiative to place his fingers inside of my mouth to collect some saliva. He then trailed them down to my cock, using my spit and precum to begin to milk me. The pleasure was surreal for me as I moaned.

Trey, on the other hand, played with my nipples and my abs, roaming his hand up and down my upper body. I saw him take some of my precum from my cock's head and use it as lube on my nipples. The slippery fluid caused my body to beg for more desire.

Just then I felt Jaxon’s wet kisses begin at the back of my neck, working their way down to my glutes. I could hear him saying, "I am going to lick out your beautiful ass hole, Wrestler Boy. Make sure to let my tongue in."

Jaxon did not waste any time getting down to my hole opening. The referee massaged my butt muscles as he used his thumbs to press on my hole. The pleasure felt so good as I moaned uncontrollably.

The warm, bright spot light on my body continued to blind out the room to me. I was on full display and had no control of how my body was being touched, explored, and wanted by Coach Franco's friends. I heard Grayson's voice asking the crowd to leave a space so the entire club could see my complete exposed body. When Diego turned my head toward him for a passionate kiss, I noticed our scene being streamed on the television screen high above the back of the bar and throughout the other screens in the club.

I was not able to be modest about my athletic, muscled body as Coach Franco encouraged his friends to enjoy me. Although I could not see Coach, I could hear him speaking to me. "Brad, just relax and allow your body to enjoy the moment. You are one handsome young man. Let your beautiful hard cock stretch out, leaking your precum out of the tip—enjoy being jacked off," were his words of encouragement.

The DJ continued to be involved, as the seductive song "Earned It" by the Weeknd was being piped out of the dance floor speakers. My moaning had gone from a shy whimper to deep, loud grunts. The club’s erotic sounds all around me were so intense at the moment.

I would never have imagined a scene like this being taken place in a dance club. I was also surprise that neither Grayson or Theo did not try to stop what was going on. In fact, everyone was encouraging the men to continue to milk me and show my body off.

My cock was loving what was happening to me as Trey and Diego continue to caress me. I did not know where Milo was located. I had thought he was the most handsome of the four. Jaxon appeared to enjoy my hole with his rolled tongue as I could not help but moan louder.

When the song “Vogue” by Madonna came on the speaker, Jaxon took that as a clue to begin fucking me. I felt his wet cock replace his tongue at my hole's entrance. He whispered to me from behind that he believed I was wet and loose enough to take his cock. With smiles on their faces, Trey and Diego held and braced me. Jaxon took his time as he slowly entered me. His cock felt so good.

 Out of nowhere, Milo appeared in front of me. Wasting no time, he unzipped his suit pants, pulled out his hard cock and said “Suck it, Wrestling Boy.”  Immediately, I felt Trey and Diego push my torso forward and down, bending me at the waist. I opened my mouth and began to work Milo's beautiful hard cock with the skills I had learned. Although I could not see very much being in the position I was in, I could hear cameras click, photographing the scene.

My body was being used and seen by the club on this evening. These men were making sure that Philadelphia was not going to forget about me. Since my college graduation I have pleasured many men's cocks with my two holes. I must have been doing a great job with my mouth as Milo did not take long to shoot his load down my throat. I heard Franco shout to me to swallow the load. I was pleased to do what Coach was commanding while Milo pulled out and Diego quickly inserted his beautiful cock into my mouth. OMG!

I was constantly being flattered, praised for my muscular body and told I was being a very good boy by the hot men that were all around me. Cameras continued to click and videos were being made of a naked, fully exposed athletic young man on display and used.

As Jaxon continued to fuck me to the rhythm of Madonna, he shot his load into my warm, wet ass hole. After we all heard Jaxon’s loud moaning sounds, Diego did not take long to shoot his tasty load. I tried to keep his studly cock in my mouth as long as I could.

I was happy that Jaxon kept his hard cock in my asshole, as well. I felt the wet cum that had ejaculated out of his cock, ooze down my leg. I had swallowed two loads and had a load inserted into my asshole. I was now begging for Trey’s load and worked his cock by using one hand as I jerked and sucked at the same time. I remained basking in the blinding light. 

Finally, the fourth handsome referee came in my pleading mouth. I heard Trey say that I was a very hot boy to take all of their loads. After Jaxon withdrew his hard cock, Franco pulled me up and gave me a very large hug. I heard the crowd cheer and begin to chant my name. Showing their approval, Grayson ran his fingers through my wet, sweat soaked hair and the handsome bartender, Theo, winked at me. I bashfully smiled at Coach. I was happy to be His Chosen Jock.

It was through an unspoken connection that I learned everything that made the Pulse Night Club feel different than a campus’ college bar. The music, the lights, the people. This place that Franco brought me to this evening was not just a club. It was a place where desires could be felt in the air, where every beat of the music was call to lose control, to embrace the night, and maybe—just maybe—to finally let go of everything that held men back.


Author is Brad

My email is [email protected] — I would love to hear your thoughts.

I enjoy getting men excited—whether it is through my writing, watching me grind out reps in skin-tight gear at the gym, showing off online, or moving my body on a stage.

I will stay hard for you—in every way that matters.


To get in touch with the author, send them an email.


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