Would-be College Jock Gets Screwed

"Shit, dude, you have GOT to score some pussy pronto."

Matt Genthe was talking to Mike Mulvaney after a sweaty game of

pickup basketball. The two jocks were both undressing in the locker room, and

Mike had just shucked his shorts, revealing what must have seemed a honker

of a cock. As Matt made his ribbing comment, I was already under a shower head, soaping my

thighs and armpits. For the last half hour, under the cover of a "physical" game,

I had been trying to cop a feel of Mike's sleek body. His chest, arms, and legs had

rippled in a variety of dazzling patterns as he hustled, took shots, and passed

the ball -- a 6-foot-4 college god wearing only athletic shorts and trainers was

guaranteed to distract me a bit.

Now, don't get me wrong, I was a top dog in high school. Played midfielder

on the soccer team, built some nice trophy muscles, got blown by the nearest

available boy whenever I needed it. Arriving at State changed everything:

I lived in a dorm full of horny jocks with outsize egos (and, often, dicks) who

made me feel like a worthless runt. After a semester of floundering in this

environment, I started hitting the gym daily and tuning up my body to the level

I needed to hang with these guys successfully. I got some sage advice from

coaches on how to act tough. By April, I was playing rough and tumble with the

lads on a regular basis and keeping on top of my studies at the same time.

So when Matt and Mike padded into the small shower room where I stood,

their well-muscled frames filling up the space in sufficiency, I thought I could act cool

and field any jock talk that was aimed at me.

As the shower water coursed over my head and shoulders, I saw Mike take up

position at the head nearest to mine. His big hands grabbed the dial and jerked on

the cold water above him. Mike started slapping his legs, chest, and arms with sharp

cracks, as if that would cool him off sooner. Then he spoke:

"Fuck, man, I can't get one girl on campus to spread her legs for me."

"What, dude, do they think you smell bad or something?" Matt called out in reply.

"No, they just don't wanna take this cock of mine at full mast. They say it's

too big," Mike explained matter-of-factly.

My composure was rattled now, and I hazarded a quick glance at Mulvaney's

crotch. I saw, God knows, maybe 8 inches of man meat draped over his sack. It was

too good not to stare, and yet I forced myself to turn away after what I hoped was an

undetectable length of time.

A few seconds of silence followed. Then, I heard a short snicker from Matt's side.

My body jerked into extreme tension.

"Colin, dude, what's bothering you?" the magnet of my eyes said.

I hummed and stood still for a second before turning to face Mike. The reply I had

thought of evaporated as I looked at the tall, flaxen-haired stud in his nudity. He had the

most perfect legs I had ever seen, and I remember thinking, only an Olympian decathlete

could expect to attain that kind of beauty. His cock hung loosely, and he wore the faintest

trace of a smile.

"Ju...just muscle cramps, Mike," I stammered.

"Cut the bullshit, Colin. We saw you looking at his dick a minute ago," Matt said.

Mike's face showed a growing satisfaction, and he put his hands to his hips and

told me, "Come over here, Colin, and get on your knees."

I obeyed, reluctantly and ecstatically, sinking to my knees in a few awkward motions.

Mike was pretty close to "full mast" now -- in fact his cock was as hard as a crowbar.

"So, buddy, we know you've been needing some attention from us jocks lately," the tall

god said. "Genthe and I here, we've had some experience with your kind of guy. Haven't we?"

"You bet, my man," Matt chimed in.

"There ain't no way you're gonna tell us how to pleasure you," Mike said, chuckling.

"Now get your ass over to that bench by the locker," he instructed me, pointing out of the

shower room.

I got up, grabbed my towel from its hook and walked to the bench appointed for my

humiliation. After turning off their shower heads, and mine, Mike and Matt sauntered out to

join me. Soon Mike was pushing me into a bent-over position across the bench, while the

dark-haired Matt was standing in front of me with one arm propped against the lockers.

Matt's cock was visibly harder now.

"Allright, buddy, let's get down to business," Mike announced from behind me. "We

know this is probably the first time for you, so we'll take it slow -- and by that I mean the

old college slow." Matt guffawed, and I could feel Mike positioning his pole for entry, setting

off waves of nervous activity in my body.

The jock's meat barreled up my ass in a rough onslaught, popping my cherry. I let off

a quick yelp and gripped the bench harder, letting Mike start to pump and pound in a

smooth rhythm.

"This shit rocks, man. Never thought I'd get to see our so-called jock buddy taking it

in the back door!" Matt hollered.

"Dude, he has made a pussy of himself just for me. You gotta admire that," Mike said,

thrusting in-out all the while.


The next day, my roommate Jeff told me that I wasn't the only one to get broken in by

these two campus kings. Jeff, who runs and throws javelin for the track and field club, was

practicing one afternoon at the oval when a dark-haired young guy started watching him --

doing a few sprints too, but mostly watching -- and when Jeff was ready to hit the showers,

followed him inside.

When Jeff was toweling himself off, a pair of hands suddenly grabbed him from behind

and manhandled him over to the wall. The voice from behind said, "Got him, Matt," whereupon

the dark-haired guy came over in his shorts and sneakers to watch this young prey at the

mercy of his tall, blond captor. In a minute Jeff was being fucked by the stealthy guy's massive

cock and being instructed to suck his buddy's dick.

"Shit," Jeff said, "When I first joined track club, I never thought I'd be servicing two guys in

that locker room, taking 18 inches of dick at both ends. But I guess you get more than what you

bargained for in college. Right, Colin?"