Date: Sat, 24 Jul 2004 21:58:03 EDT
From: Calcubx2@aol.com
Subject: Jockstraps and Fur Part 3

	It wasn't difficult to find guys to play around with and I spent a
lot of time at the gym. But I became more discerning in my jock
collection. In my senior year I developed a fascination, a passion, for
more mature, furry men. I still enjoyed guys my age but big, burly hairy
guys set my blood boiling.

	I had worked on the school paper for two years, writing
interviews. It broke the monotony of studying and I got to meet quite a few
interesting people. In my last year at school there was a new wrestling
coach that was guiding the team toward state finals -- which was a big deal
for our school. The editor convinced me I had to do the interview with the
guy, not that I knew much about wrestling but I did have a way of getting
information out of people. I called him and set up an appointment to meet
at a local hang-out across from campus.

	I was early for our meeting, partially because I was hungry and I
realized I had no idea what he looked like. There was no one over 25 when I
got there so I was safe. I was immersed in reading my notes when a voice
boomed at me.

	"Jack Dawton, nice to meet you." He held out his hand.

	I stood up gaped, automatically returning his handshake. He stood
around 5'9", beefy as I expected but well proportioned. He wore a loose
tank top and gym shorts. I couldn't help but stare at the hair tufting from
his chest, forearms, arms, leg's - he was covered in dark curly fur. I
quickly sat down to hide the growing bulge in my pants. He ordered himself
a beer and we started the interview.

	He was very easy to talk to, comfortable to be around and gave me
plenty of stories that would sound good in the paper, human interest. I
hesitated when he asked about my interest in wrestling. I admitted that I'd
shied away because of my build, standing just shy of 6'; I wasn't what you
would call 'bulky.'

	"Bullshit," he said "it's not mass, it's strength. Bulk helps but
isn't essential. Want to give it a try?"

	Throughout the interview, I'd been thinking about fooling around
with this guy, in ways he doubtless would not appreciate. Since that kept
my cock alive and bouncing I knew it wasn't a good idea to go with him.

       "C'mon, I don't live too far, I'll give you some lessons." He stood
up and threw some cash on the table.

	I followed him to the car and got in. He continued talking while I
hastily tried to make notes. My mind raced as I tried to figure out how I
could get out of this or how bad he was going to pummel me when he found
out I had a bone-on for him. After a short ride we were at his place. He
led me downstairs where he'd converted a large storage room into a mini-gym
complete with open showers. Mat covered the floor. He started to strip.

	'Uh, Jack, I don't have any gym shorts with me. Um^Å" No way was I
going to strip down to my jock in front of this guy.

	"What's the problem?" He asked. He stood five feet away from me,
bare-chested with his shorts dangling around his ankles wearing a jock, a
well-worn jock-strap. He stepped out the shorts. "I don't have any either!"
The meaty lump between his legs jumped. He walked toward me and unbuttoned
my shirt and began on my jeans.

	"So that's the problem." He sounded irked when my pants dropped. At
least by then I didn't have an erection. "I've been wrestling for more than
20 years and you don't think I've seen a stiff dick before? Shit, it
happens all the time. But man, you might want to wash that jock, it's a
little ripe."

	"Yours isn't much better." I replied, finally relaxing.

	He spent the next ½ hour or showing me some moves, me trying to pin
him (no chance) and him getting rougher and more aggressive. I was on my
stomach when he pinned me, both of us hot and sweating; he kneaded his
crotch into the small of my back which made me hump the mat. I pushed with
everything I had and threw him off. Seconds later I was flat on my back. He
had me down, legs holding my arms to the ground. He grabbed my legs and
curled them around his neck.

	"Damn, I need to piss." He let go of my legs but kept me
pinned. "Don't think I can with a hard-on. What do you think I should do,
John?"

	I looked up at the spread ass cheeks inches from my face. I could
count every curling hair running the length of his crack, the full balls
stretched his jock pouch. His sweaty scent made my cock throb. The puckered
rose-bud winked as he pulled out his meat and stroked it, thumped it
against my lower chest. My tongue flicked, a feather touch across the tight
ring. His body shuddered. I licked again, tasted his fiery musk. He
released my arms; I held him by the broad hips and pulled and planted my
face in his ass. Before long it was drenched with spit as my tongue danced
and played along the furry crack.

	He nuzzled my jock-covered crotch, gnawed lightly on my balls while
I worked on his hole until I was squirming and the head of my rod crank
pushed through the wide-waistband. I felt his heated breath on my bared
skin and one of my balls was sucked into the tight warmth of his mouth. I
burrowed further, reached around to feel the heft of his iron-hard rod. I
fondled the length of the shaft, thick and throbbing in my fingers. I
massaged the distended mushroom and was rewarded with a surge of seeping
froth. At that point I felt his tongue pierce my hole like a blunt, heated
spike. I growled as it invaded me again and again.

	I went wild. I shoved his ass away and scrambled to get his dick in
my mouth. I gulped down half his eight inches before I gagged, breathed and
swallowed another two inches and fondled his hairy eggs in my
fingers. Then, with no warning, I was thrown on my back. His cock slid down
my throat easily, lip covered teeth chewed the base of the enormous
shaft. He continued his assault on my loosened sphincter.

	"Bed." Was all he said bolting up the stairs.

	I followed him up to his room where he collapsed on the bed. I
stared down at him, the whorling hair pattern; starting at his shoulders,
thickened around his beefy pecs, a broad line down his barrel chest
spreading out with his navel the center of a wide diamond of black fur
sweeping to the lush forest of his crotch. The thick fleshy log heaved
above his belly dripping a small pool of syrupy pre-cum. I grasped his
calves, felt the power of his muscles as I massaged them. He brought a foot
up, my raging pole trapped while he tickled me with his toes. I closed my
eyes as I enjoyed the sensation.

	I was yanked down on top of him, my mouth found his. His heat, the
searing sweat that poured from him burned my skin. We tumbled, kissed, felt
each other until I was on my back with his mouth fastened on a tit, chewing
roughly. I held his head, begged for more and ran my hand up his flank. An
arm raised, I savored the briny taste of his pit through the tufted fur. He
eased me onto my back.

	He speared my rose-bud once more with his tongue. My legs were
spread, lifted onto his shoulder. I grimaced at the searing plunge of his
insertion, his over-sized member stretched with agonizing pain. Lips gently
nuzzled my throat, the side of my face. He began a gradual withdrawal,
stabbed back into me until I felt his balls slap my ass, again and again,
short savage thrusts. I groaned in pain until suddenly it receded, I
reveled in the spreading warmth.

	He held himself up with his arms stiff, hands on either side of my
head, breathed in, exhaled in a long sigh while my ass-muscles flexed and
loosened. There was a slight gasp, my only warning. He rammed his cock into
me and began to rigorously pound my hole. I burrowed into the bed sheets,
arms behind my head as he fucked hard and brutally. His steaming sweat
rained onto me. I lifted myself up, grasped a rosy nipple between my teeth
and bit. He fucked harder as I chewed the stiff peak.

	I rocked against him, my solid erection pounding against his belly;
the thick matt of hair tickled the sensitive head. The oozing cream mixed
with his perspiration. He collapsed on top of me with his mouth one mine
when he slowed to a steady pace. I don't know how long we went on. The
sweet, sensual melding of our bodies; the even pace as he fucked. It seemed
all too soon that I felt his engorged flesh poke my prostate and my orgasm
was close. I willed myself back but knew there was no way to stop. I
gripped his shoulders, kneaded them with urgency. The momentum grew, his
thrusts no faster; but deeper and more satisfying.

	His lips trailed along my face, his tongue swirled wetly in my
ear. "Cum," he said.

	It was a question and statement all at once. I held him; trembled
and thrust my hardness into his belly and started to cream. Aching balls
exploded, emptying their heavy load. My ass muscles contracted repeatedly,
strangling his enraged cock until he came. Three, four, five short jabs and
his cock-rocket shot their cum-salvos, overfilling me with his spunk. His
mouth found mine as we clung together until we were finally spent.

	I grimaced as he abruptly pulled out and headed for the bathroom. I
felt empty, abandoned. I heard him empty his bladder, loud and long. I lay
back, eyes shut and played with the lips of my stretched hole. I heard him
come back in the room; the unshaved face rubbed between my thighs and
licked the spent cream from my ass. His hot tongue swirled around my nuts,
briefly swallowed my growing erection, scooped up the droplets of my load
as he traveled up my chest until he embraced me in his arms. We held each
other, silently and drifted into a fitful sleep.

	I woke up just as the sun was setting, the dusky light filtered
through the blinds. I was alone. I got up, stumbled around to find my
clothes. They weren't where I remembered leaving them. The only thing I
could find was a jock-strap, his. I put it and went downstairs and found
him in the kitchen, making dinner.

	"Hey sport." He said, wrapping his arms around me, his mouth on
mine. "Dinner's almost ready. There's a cold brew in the fridge if you
want."

	I looked around as he checked on the steaks he was broiling. I
grabbed a beer, took a long drink. "Where are my clothes?" I asked him.

	"Don't know, where did you leave them?" He didn't look at me.

	"Jack, I'm not going to sit down and eat in just a jock." I was
getting annoyed.

	"Fine with me, eat naked." Again he wouldn't look at me. I watched
him as he stood at the sink, the dark triangle of hair leading down to his
crack, the rounded globes of his ass tightly encased in a pair of tight
jockeys. My cock stirred. "Okay, I thought you might bolt after what
happened and I wanted you to stick around. Call it insurance." He laughed.

	I stepped up behind him, my arms circled his waist and I pumped my
lengthened shaft between his cheeks while I nuzzled his neck. "Shouldn't
have worried about that." I whispered in his ear. I snaked a hand under the
waistband. The heavy tube stirred.

	He sighed, rested his head back next to mine. "C'mon Sport, that's
dessert." He didn't move to stop me from fondling his plump ball-bag. But
then added, "And that's not the appetizer, either. Better let go, the
steaks will burn."

	I reluctantly released him, helped set the table while he finished
cooking. The meal was delicious; steaks cooked to perfection, baked
potatoes, salad. We talked as we ate; me about my plans after school, Jack
about his coaching career - the triumphs and failures. After we finished
the dishes he wanted to have a quick soak in his hot tub.

	The water was the perfect temperature, hot and relaxing. I curled
up in his arms. "Did you really think I would have left without saying
anything to you?" I asked him.

	"Wouldn't be the first time, John. I didn't know if you would freak
because of what we did, sometimes younger guys do." His voice was almost
sad.

	He sighed, head back while my hands roamed his body; I massaged the
massive pecs, fingers tweaked the stiffened peaks of his nips, through the
thicket of wiry pubic hair, encircled his cock and balls all the while he
caressed my back, shoulders. I nibbled his neck, then looked him in the
face when I asked, "Can I keep your jock? I started collecting them a few
years ago^Å"

	There was a twinkle in his as he smiled down at me. "On one
condition."

	I caught the meaning. "No." He looked crestfallen at my reply
before I added, "Not tonight, it's still painful to walk."

	"Tomorrow? The day after? The day after that?" He asked hopefully.

	I moved up until I could feel his hard-on nestle between my spread
ass. "Maybe tomorrow." I wriggled my butt. "The day after^Åis a definite."

	It wasn't long before we were back in bed. We made out like
teenagers; hot, fast, desperate. We played, stroked, licked, sucked until
we were exhausted and finally slept.

	I awoke with at dawn my face buried in Jack's barrel chest. He
slept, continued to snore softly when I got up to take a leak. I found a
bottle of mouth wash and gargled quickly. I watched him sleep, arms behind
his back and his legs spread. I couldn't help but think he was living proof
that man descended from primates. He was so hairy, feral. I loved it. He
woke when I got back into bed and nuzzled my neck; the roughness of his
beard scratched my skin. Then he was on his back asleep again, his heavy
breathing slow and rhythmic.

	I was too horny to sleep. Slowly, ever so slowly I gave him a
sensual tongue bath. He moaned softly as my tongue circled his tits, kissed
across his belly. His cock and balls throbbed above my eyes as I teased his
inner thighs with my mouth, his legs shaking in excitement. I could smell
impatient droplets of pre-cum oozing down his shaft, dripping thickly on
his belly. I licked at them, ignoring his sex-pole.

	"Suck it baby, suck my cock." He begged, still half asleep.

	I didn't need to be asked twice. I wrapped my arms around his
solid, fleshy buttocks, kneaded them while I nuzzled his scrotum, licked
them, taking each into my mouth, one after the other, and then both
together; my mouth full, overflowing with their bulky masculinity.

	"Stop toying, eat my dick."

	I wrapped a hand around the thick base of his fat joint, squeezed
and started a long, lazy climb as my tongue slithered up his silken
shaft. I curled my tongue around the tender head, bathed in its oily
discharge. He groaned when my lips slid around the bloated knob and dipped
my tongue in his slit.

	"Make be cum, baby, suck that fat hairy cock." I wasn't sure if he
was awake or not.

	I worked my mouth and tongue as fast as I could. I wanted his load
as bad as he wanted to give it to me. He spread his legs and started to
pump it to me as hard and fast as he could.  He held my head, fucking my
face. It wasn't long before I knew he was ready.  Still holding him by the
balls, I wrapped my other hand around his thigh, letting him go for it. I
choked as he plunged into me, his huge, swollen cock-head banging against
the back of my throat. His shaft grew fatter, filled my mouth.

	"Take it, take my fucking load."He growled when his cock spit; hot,
custardy jets of spunk down my waiting throat. I swallowed again and again,
tasting his sweet juice as he drained his balls.

	I was ready to explode. I stood up on the bed, over him and palmed
my throbbing shaft, panting and groaning, my hand a blur. Jack sat up,
fingers curled around my disappearing nut-sac; he twisted, pulled all the
while he chanted, "shoot it, shoot it baby. Cum all over me. Want you hot
cream."

	I couldn't stop the scream when he yanked on my bag. I short
stroked the top of my meat, the reddened cap flared. I saw the first foamy
jet arc high in the air, then my eyes shut. I pumped and pumped, coaxing
the spunk from my balls until I felt Jack's hot mouth on my sensitive knob,
sucking out the last of my load.

	Jack and I became and 'item.' I'd hang around the locker room every
few days, waiting for him to finish so we could go to his house. The team
knew, or didn't, I wasn't sure. They tended to ignore me. Until a few weeks
after we'd met, I was waiting for Jack one night after a match when the
team didn't perform as well as they could have. I heard him yelling before
I got near the locker room. I tentatively opened the door, his booming
voice ranted, belittled them for doing so poorly, that he was ashamed to be
their coach, on and on. The agonized faces were wretched.

	I marched in, went to one of the lockers across the way and sat on
the bench. I untied my shoes, slipped them and my socks off, stood and
stripped off my shirt, put it in the locker. As I unbuttoned my pants I
realized the majority of the guys on the team were watching me instead of
listening to Jack.

	"What the hell are you assholes looking at?" He asked as he
followed their gaze. At that moment I'd dropped my jeans.

	I stood in just a jock, Jack's jockstrap. "What?" I asked them all
innocently. "This is a locker room, can't a guy take a shower?" Luckily
Jack couldn't see a few of the guys try to stifle a laugh.

	As I finished stripping and sauntered to the showers, I could hear
Jack say, in a much quieter voice, "You guys really did do a good job, good
but not great. Now hit the showers."

	They stayed out of my way as I finished washing. It was when I
passed them to grab a towel, one guy that I'd had a psych class with called
to me. "Thanks Johnny, we owe you one."

	I dressed quickly and went to find how Jack. I wanted to see how
pissed off his was at me. I weaved my way through the halls to his office,
the light was on. I gingerly knocked on the door.

	"Who is it?" He yelled.

	Oh shit, he was pissed. I opened the door a crack, "It's me."

	"Get in here, shut the door." The voice had a hard edge to it.

	"Jack, I didn't mean to do anything. I wanted to take a shower."

	His chair was turned away from me, I couldn't see him. "John," He
commanded, "lock the door and shut up." I did as he asked. "I don't know
what that stunt was all about but you'll pay." I started to get a little
afraid; this was a side of him I didn't know. "Your hot little ass has got
my name written all over it." I gasped as he slowly turned in his chair.

	He was naked, long stroking his very stiff cock. He pumped the
head; it glistened in the light as beads of pearly jizz bubbled along the
reddened slit. He spoke in a measured tone, evenly. "Your mouth, on my
dick, NOW!"

	I knew he wasn't going to last long. I was on my knees in a second
and the distended crown of his shaft pierced my lips. My tongue ran laps
around his moist helmet; I cupped his hairy balls in my hand. Inch by inch
I inhaled his succulent meat. He pulled back for just a second then shoved
back into my willing mouth. I continued to hold his nuts while he face
fucked me, my other hand had slipped into my jock, jerking off my
overheated prick. In just a few minutes, he sped up, the shaft filling my
mouth grew thicker and firmer until with one final lunge, his orgasm
exploded. I choked as the first creamy shots hit the back of my throat,
swallowing again and again, tasting the heavy cum-honey that over-flowed in
my mouth.

	Just as he finished pumping his load down my throat, there was a
knock at the door. He struggled into his clothes while I buttoned my
jeans. He finally yelled at however it was to come in. I unlocked and
opened the door, four guys piled in, stammering and talking at once,
apologizing to Jack about their screw-ups. They all stopped in
mid-sentence. I wasn't sure if it was me, the flush of Jack's face or the
hazy mixed smell of sweat and sperm. That's when I became the team's
unofficial mascot.

	I was at all the wrestling matches. The team knew I shared a room
with Jack, no one questioned why. He never played around with any of the
guys, either, his standards wouldn't allow it. I however, was a fellow
student and not on the team and^Å.

	The first time it happened was on an over-night bus trip. It was
around 1:00 am when everyone was asleep or trying to sleep. I was curled up
across two of the seats in the back, reading with a small light when Tony
Lazare came up and asked if he could talk to me. I moved over so he could
sit down.

	"John, I got this problem. I don't know what to do about it." He
whispered.

	"Tony," I whispered back, "it's the middle of the night, what kind
of problem can't wait until morning?"

	"Well, it's a real hard problem I don't know what to do." He looked
from me to his crotch. His 'hard' problem was throbbing.

	I shook my head. "Tony, there's the john. You go in, drop your
shorts and wank the crank. No problem!"

	"Johnny, I'm not asking for a blow-job." He whimpered. "I'm tired
of dating my own hand." He unzipped, seven inches of uncut Italian sausage
popped out. "It'll help me sleep. Can't you help out a buddy?"

	Against my better judgment, I switched seats so he was next to the
window. I slipped my hand beneath the blanket I'd draped over our laps;
he'd not only pulled his shirt up but also shoved his jeans down to his
knees. His mouth opened in a silent sigh as I raked my hand across his
abdomen, around his groin and up his inner thigh. I tickled his furry
scrotum, heard him faintly beg me to jack him off.

	"Yeah," he sighed under his breath when I grabbed his cock. Two
thick veins throbbed beneath my fingers. The smooth helmet was half covered
in tight skin, dry. "Need lube." His voice muffled.

	I paused for only a second, dove under the covers. I suckled the
bloated tip to help loosen the tight skin. His fingers curled through my
hair while he held my head. I sucked and slobbered until the satiny knob
filled my mouth. I sat back, stroked the moistened shaft up and down. He
didn't take long, his breathes deepened. With a silent shudder, he pumped
my hand and creamed his thick load onto his belly.

	"Need something to clean up." He panted.

	I reached for my bag; the first thing I found was my jock strap,
Jack's jock. I silently wiped up Tony's spent spunk. I kicked myself,
thinking I'd just got myself into a heap of shit. I wondered what the guy
was going to tell everyone as I watched him walk away. He was halfway down
the aisle when he turned and came back. "Thank you." He whispered in my
ear, and then kissed me.

	In the ensuring weeks it was obvious Tony hadn't told anyone. Or so
I thought.

	One of my 'unofficial' duties for the team was playing chauffer
when someone needed a ride. I hauled the guys all over whenever he wasn't
available. Which is why I found myself at the Greyhound station early one
Sunday evening waiting for Burke Myers bus to arrive. He appeared
preoccupied when I picked him up and oddly quiet on the drive back.

	"Can we stop for some coffee?" He asked as we neared campus. "I
need to talk."

	I didn't think anything about it so I pulled off the road. We
ordered and I followed him to a table in the back.

	He started, hesitating. "Lazare told me^Å"

	"Oh," I interrupted him. "That's what this is about. Yeah, I jacked
him off. So what's the big deal? Remember Jack? You're coach; you know I
sleep with him. Of course sometimes we don't sleep much. Not when he's
fucking my ass with his big^Åfat^Åhard^Åcock! He's huge, you know." I was
on a rant. "He's got one of the biggest pricks I've ever hard. Do you know
what you're macho coach does before he fucks me? He sticks his tongue up my
butt-hole. Gets it really loose."

	"Shut up." Burke whispered.

	"Sometimes in the morning I wake up to him sucking me off. He likes
that in morning, says he likes to start off his day with some hot cream.

	"Stop it," Burke was pleading.

	"Don't like to hear the truth." I sneered at him.

	"No, that's not it." He looked away, then leaned close. "You're
giving me a hard-on."

	Okay, this was not where I was expecting it to go. Not anywhere
near what I thought. I heard my father's voice in my head, 'Open mouth,
insert foot.' I felt like an asshole. "Burke, I'm sorry."

	He looked me in the eye when he spoke. "I want to have sex with a
man. I want to have sex with you."

	I sat and stared at him. I got up, called Jack and was back at the
table in moments. "C'mon, we're going." I said not bothering to sit
down. He numbly followed.

	We got in the car, Burke stared straight ahead. There was the
slightest flinch when I put my hand on his thigh. I started the car and
began driving. I increased the pressure, urging him silently to move
closer. By the time we pulled into Jack's driveway he was sitting by my
side. Inside the house, I poured him a large vodka tonic. I nursed a beer
while we sat outside.

	"Are you afraid you'll enjoy it?" I asked.

	"No." He hesitated. "I'm afraid I'll get it wrong. That's what
Helen told me I did with her."

	I stood behind him, massaged his shoulders. I stooped, licked his
neck. "You know when you jack off; sometime it feels incredible when you
tickle just under the head of your cock." He sighed. "Or sometimes it
starts to ache between your balls and your asshole, and you just have to
rub it?" My tongue flicked in and out his ear. He purred as I stroked his
chest. "So do I. You don't need to worry about getting it wrong, just
remember what you like."

	I pulled him up, held his hand as I led him up to the bedroom. He
looked around as I stripped of his clothes, then mine.

	"This is Jack's bedroom." He finally said.

	"Yep," I responded pushing him to his knees. "And I'm wearing his
jockstrap."

	His mind stopped working in overdrive when his mouth connected with
my crotch. I ran my fingers through his blond hair as he chewed the pouch,
crunching my nuts. I felt his hands knead the mounds of my ass and burrowed
under the tight jock to free my cock. He devoured me, feasted on my
hardness until I pulled him up and shoved him onto the bed. I bounced on
top of him, face buried in his crotch as he attacked mine.

	I didn't see any reason to tell him Jack was hiding in the closet
watching.