Date: Wed, 29 May 2002 00:54:44 +0000
From: Bill Drake <billdrake@hotmail.com>
Subject: Team Reward, pt. 8

Team Reward, pt. 8 (m/t, anal, oral, HS)
Bill Drake
(billdrake@hotmail.com)

Warning: the following stories contain graphic descriptions of sexual
material.  If you are underage or do not wish to read such materials, read
no further.  The fiction depicts unsafe sex practices.  It's fantasy. In
real life, wear a rubber.

Comments to billdrake@hotmail.com. Thanks to all the guys out there who
have written - I love to hear when my stories are doing their job. I've
been getting too many emails to always respond personally, so I've taken
the lead of other writers and have set up a Yahoo Group as a place to
collect my stories and as a way to notify interested readers when a new
story is coming out.

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/drakestories/

For more of my stories, go to the files section of the group or see the
Authors section of the Nifty Archive. Meanwhile, stroke away...

**********

Team Reward
pt. 8


Hank Johnson watched the scrimmage practice intently. Actually, his
attention was focused on one player: Randy Fulsom, the studly
linebacker. Lately, Hank couldn't get enough of the tough-as-bricks
ballplayer. Ever since their encounter in the men's room at Jackson County
High, the two hunky teens had gotten it on ever chance they could. Randy
turned on Hank so much - big and strapping, that unbeatable combination of
muscle and natural padding required by his position. It inspired him to
begin working out harder at the local gym, keeping his already toned and
muscular body in perfect shape.

The linebacker, meanwhile, seemed to get off on that oversized salami that
swung between Hank's legs. He would plop back on his bed, place his large
apelike hands on his chest and beg Hank to lie on top of him and slide that
monster between his massive man tits. Each time Hank spunked all over
Randy's neck and face, the burly jock would grunt and start spraying his
fuck buddy's back with searing hot linebacker cum.


Even in uniform and pads, Fulsom was giving Hank an undeniable hardon as he
watched the team go through a rigorous practice. He loved the way the
senior's muscular ass jiggled as he jogged back from the huddle. He loved
watching the powerful mass butt up against his teammates.

"Which one are you fucking?"

The question snapped him out his reverie. Beside him was sitting Pete
Burns.  Like Hank, Pete was one of the school's "jocks" who nonetheless
didn't play any sport. The two just had the good looks, built teen bodies,
and assured, confident attitudes.

"What?" Hank asked, taken back by Pete's frankness and worried that Pete
knew about him and Randy.  "How? I mean, what...?"

"Fuck, Hank, you can't hide that big sausage of your when it gets hard."

Hank looked down at the right leg of his jeans, which bulged obscenely with
the long tubesteak trapped inside.

"Don't worry, man," Pete said. "Your secret's safe with me. Besides, there
are some hot guys out there. I'm fucking one of them myself."

"Really?" Hank looked at Pete incredulously, then turned his gaze to survey
the hunky players on the field. "Who?"

"Coach Williams."

"No fucking way!" Hank said.

"Sure as shit, buddy!" Pete grinned. "Nice, tight fuck, too." He licked his
lips as he stared out at the field, watching the coach and reminiscing
about the most recent time rimming out Williams' ass. He turned back to the
other teen hunk.  "So, Hank,...which one are you fucking?"

"Fulsom," Hank said in a mixture of pride and nervousness.

"No shit? Randy Fulsom? I didn't know you were into the big boys, Hank."

"Yeah, I guess I am. Can't get enough of him."

"Hell, buddy, with a dick as big as yours I bet ole Randy's can't help
giving up his big linebacker ass for you."

"Actually, he won't let me fuck him. Says my dick is too big."

"Aw, fuck, Hank, he's just saying that. May even think he believes it. But
that bruiser wants you to bend him over and take his tight ass. Believe
me."

"Yah?"

"Yeah, stud. Those jocks are all the same. Coach was giving me the same
shit.  How he couldn't handle a big boy like me. So we had a wrestling
match to see who would be bottom boy, and of course the fucker lets me
win. They're all the same, those meatheads. You just gotta take charge,
Hank."

"Shit, Pete, I hope you're right. I'm already boned up thinking about
Randy's butch ass riding my pole."

Just then, during a time out, Randy trotted over to the chain fence and
motioned Hank to come down.  Hank jogged down the bleachers to where the
hunky ballplayer was waiting.

"Hey stud," Hank said.

"Shit, Hank, that dick of death is reaching halfway down your leg!" Randy
breathed. "Can't believe you walk around like that."

"Can't help it Randy, I get too hot watching you play."

Randy lifted up his football jersey to wipe the sweat off his brow.  He had
on only his pads underneath, so Hank was greeted with the sight of Fulsom's
massive chest, clammy with sweat and flush with exertion. His eyes followed
down the trail of dark hair leading over the heaving belly and down beneath
the waist band of the sweatshorts that clung to Randy's waist.

"Aw, man, don't tease me like that," Hank sighed. "I gotta feel that hot
bod of your soon. Or my dick's gonna explode."

"Hold it, stud. After practice, we'll go back to my place and have some
fun, OK?"

"Can't wait."

**********

It had been a cold Wednesday afternoon practice, but Greg Jefferson had
worked up a sweat anyway. As the he entered the lockerroom, cleats clacking
against the hard cement floor, Greg pulled off his practice jersey and
pads, revealing a sweaty chest, the flesh reddened with heat and the
muscles taut with exertion.  The beads trickled down the valley between his
full pecs, down the ripples of his washboard abs, through the forest of his
torso's fine hair, and down into the seam of his football pants. His crotch
was soaked through with the wetness of a hard workout, and truth be told,
from the leaking of his overexcited balls, which had been pumping out dick
lube a lot lately. Hell, he'd started bringing an extra clean jock to
school to change into, as his was always soaked through by the end of
fourth period, when he'd get a boner the whole class staring at his history
teacher Mr. Johnson's fine, firm ass.

Now Greg sat down on the bench to remove his cleats and his socks. He was
excited, as today the steam room was supposed to be up and running. He and
the other guys on the team were eager to try it out and today would be a
perfect day to relax after a tough practice.

As he stood back up he felt a warm, strong hand smack lightly on the
clammy-cool skin of his broad delts. "What's up, Jefferson?" a booming
voice asked.

It was Eric LaGrange, a junior who played halfback. He was trimmer than a
lot of the guys in his position but still packed on a good bulk. His
powerful black muscles bulged against the tightness of his white towel.

"Today's practice was some workout, huh?" Eric asked.

"Tell me about it, man. I'm fucking sore all over."

"Yeah, Coach sure is busting our balls for the game Friday. That fucker
really wants this state championship."

"Me too," Greg added.

"Yeah, bud, so do I. Only..." the halfback paused.

"Only what, bud?"

Eric looked to both sides of him to see who was around, then dropped his
voice.  "Only the fucker turns me on when he acts like that. Every time
Jackson barks an order at us, I get a fucking hardon that won't go down."

"No shit?! Really?" Greg could feel his dick start to stir in his tight
football pants as he slowly unlaced them. He had to admit the coach really
turned him on as well, every time he'd swagger into the locker room for a
pep talk or to chew out the guys for poor performance.

"Fuck, yeah. See..." LaGrange pulled off his towel. Extending downward,
trapped between his rigid thighs, was a pulsing fuck hardon. The length of
the shaft approached ten inches and large, opalescent drops of dick goo
leaked down the smooth black surface of Eric's built quads.

"Jesus, LaGrange," Greg exclaimed. "You better be careful with that weapon.
Looks like it's ready to go off any moment." With his large hands, Greg
fumbled with the strings of the white pants, unlacing them to expose more
of his downy brown hair and the top of his white jock, now all wet with
jocksweat.  As he removed the uniform pants, revealing the corded muscle of
his quads, calves and hamstrings, Eric dropped his towel on the bench right
on top of Greg's jersey.  His cock hardened even more as he studied the
offensive lineman's muscular form.  Eric always thought Greg looked like a
younger version of Coach Jackson, same height, same build, maybe that's why
the man always got his oversized cock hard. He'd always been afraid to make
a move on the big bruiser, though.

Until now. The globes of ripe football-stud ass were too much for the
halfback to resist.  He watched as Greg pulled down his football pants and
soiled, wet jock then admired the sinewy calf and hamstring muscles as the
jock stood up right.  Wasting no time, Eric stepped right behind Greg and
wrapped his beefy black biceps around the thick, powerful torso, pulling
and holding him tight against LaGrange's smooth, powerful, naked chest.

The ten-inch black scepter fit snugly in the crevice of Greg's ass. Eric
groaned as he ground his pelvis, pushing his hard dripping meat into the
heat and wetness of the other athlete's crack. "Nice fucking ass,
Jefferson."

"Man, Eric, what the fuck...?"

"Sorry, buddy, I couldn't resist. Gotta sperm that moist crack of yours,
guy."  His large arms held onto the athlete's torso even tighter as he
thrusted and ground his crotch into the recesses of that jock ass. He
looked down at the magnificent sight of Greg's firm mounds clutching his
slick black pole as it slid back and forth.

"Goddamn, LaGrange, you are a horny motherfucker." Greg hummed as he leaned
back into the powerful pectorals of his crackfucker. "Your dick is already
juicin' up my asscrack."

"Yeah, buddy? You feel my cockjuice soaking your crack? Feel my big balls
rubbing against your horny hole? Getting ready to hose you bud."

The lineman reached back and alternated parting the muscular hemispheres of
his bubblebutt and pressing them together to trap the long black snake
fucking between them. "Yeah, spunk me, guy."

"Ah shit, here it comes buddy. I'm too wound up to stop now. All over your
fucking back, and soaking your white-boy crack."

Dick snot shot everywhere, the pearly white seed splattering all along
Greg's spine, coating his lats and lower back, slipping down to wet the
soft hairs lining the athlete's buttcrack.  As Eric pulled away, Greg
clenched his cheeks, feeling the wetness penetrate deeper and lower,
wetting up his tight pucker.

He turned around and looked at the monster cock that had just hosed him.
Smiling, he reached out and grabbed the sensitive shaft, massaging it and
feeling the cum, sweaty slickness of it.

"Fuck, LaGrange, you gotta let me have a go at this cuntsplitter, for
real."

Eric stared into the hunky jock's deep brown eyes and smiled back. "Nothing
I'd like better Jefferson, but later, man, later."

**********

Already as Frank Myers walked toward the fogged glass doors of the steam
room, he could feel his teen jockmeat plumped and lengthen and he knew his
balls were churning in anticipation of popping a nut.

The studbuilt senior opened the doors and was immediately enveloped by
steam. It felt wonderful. A little bit of light flowed from behind him and
there were a couple of pale blue lights, but otherwise it was dark, and
with the thick fog, he couldn't see beyond a foot in front of him. From the
noises of footsteps, he knew a couple of his teammates were already in
there, but he didn't know how many.

He sat on the warm wooden bench. All around him steam flowed. Relaxed and
horny at the same time, he could feel his cock throb and stand out from his
taut abs, an erect tower of hard, athlete flesh whose smoothness contrasted
to the forest of dark brown pubic hairs that spread upward from his crotch
and fanned out over that perfect muscular stomach. Greg took in a deep
breath and shut his eyes.  Around him he could hear the otherwise silent
athletes walking on the wet tile floor, he could almost hear their
breathing the room was so still.

The defensive lineman was about to drift asleep when he felt something slap
against his face. Then again. The hunky athlete opened his eyes and was
greeted with the sight of a large piece of hard cockmeat. The flesh was
moist from the

steam and beads of moisture dripped from the perfectly round balls that
hung snugly below. The cock pressed insistently into his face, rubbing
gently up and down alongside Frank's nose. Frank instinctively stuck his
tongue out and began running it underneath the base of this perfectly
shaped cock, tonguing the hairy balls and the beginning of the hard shaft.

The piece was starting to get wet from Frank's spit and the moisture of the
steam room. Its owner stepped back and slapped the athlete's face a couple
more times before aiming the distended head toward Frank's mouth and
pushing right in.

Frank felt his mouth cavity fill with the mass of beautiful, thick
dickflesh.  The large shaft pressed its way insistently into the young
man's mouth and throat. Frank was only too happy to open up for it.

The shaft stretched his jaw then, as it pushed further back, spread his
throat wide. The dick kept sinking in until Frank could feel the steam-wet
scrotum push tight against his own moist chin. Then he felt something that
made his cock jerk and spit its gooey prelube out onto the moist tile of
the floor: a firm hand gripped the back of his head, right were his buzz
haircut began to taper into the thick muscular flesh of his neck. The hard,
strong fingers dug tightly into the fine hairs on the nape of his neck,
holding Frank firmly in place, commanding silently him to take cock. The
athlete didn't know who it was, but he felt his power and it turned him on.
His dick throbbed to think that he was deep-throating some stud right there
in the locker-room steam area.

Inward again, the hard cock pushed forward, spearing Frank's wet, eager
gullet.  He'd barely had a second to get used to the fullness of the
invader, when it withdrew and thrust in again. Immobile, the lineman held
his jaw open and relaxed his throat to let this man take his pleasure. In
again. Each time, Frank could swear the cockflesh burrowed deeper, if that
was possible - the man's testicles were already smacking his chin with each
thrust, making a soft squishy smacking sound that reverberated over the
hissing of the steam. In again. Yeah, he knew it; that dick was getting
harder and longer in his mouth. With his breathing Myers alternated a
slight sucking as the prick pushed inward. That hand gripped his neck
tighter. God, it turned him on to be used like this. To be skullfucked
silly by some stud. Maybe this guy had fucked him before, maybe not.  He
was trying to think of guys on the team with dicks this big, this long,
this full. And balls so heavy they seemed to thud against the flesh of his
face. That grip grew even tighter as the man started thrusting in and out
harder, faster, without mercy. Frank's throat just opened up and took the
pummeling like he was born to suck cock.  Maybe he was. He thought of all
the guys on the team he'd blown. All the big jock dicks having their way
with him, letting loose their loads down his hot throat.

Both of Frank's hands were on the man's ass now, holding and kneading the
hard cheeks in his palms. Trying to pull more cock into his mouth, trying
to make the man shove harder. It was a hopeless attempt though - this stud
was in charge.  His powerful ass and strong legs set the pace, a steady
thorough facefuck. That hard grip showing Frank who was in charge.

Just then the fuckpace became erratic, the smooth deep penetration of
Frank's throat alternated with short, hard jabs. The man was draining his
nuts good now.  Rope after rope of salty man spray were shooting into the
senior athlete's mouth, spasming deep into his gullet. Claiming their
conquest.

Frank was being hosed good. Without even touching his dick, it exploded in
a high arc that painted his chest and the legs of his fucker.  With each
volley of jism that jetted into his esophagus, his own cock gave up another
hard shot, his nuts contracted rhythmically, pumping out jolt after jolt of
hot jizz, drowning Frank's hairy chest in his own horny dick slime.

When the stud had sated himself, he pulled free from Frank's mouth and
before Frank could see who it was, stepped back into the steam.  Satisfied
himself, the hunky athlete leaned back against the tile wall, closed his
eyes and took a few minutes of sleep in the steam.

************

(to be cont.)