Date: Thu, 14 Nov 2019 14:16:01 +0100 (CET) From: MuDPhuD Subject: Jack and Mark Disclaimer: The author does not condone any of the acts in this tale. This story was not written to advocate sexual activity with minors. Frank H. Netter extensively mapped the human anatomy through cadavers but he was not a necrophiliac. Support free speech and stop censorship or die in a fascist world. This is FICTION for ADULTS only. Do NOT read this if you are under 18, if you are not an adult according to the laws of your country, OR if you are easily offended. This story contains sexually explicit material suitable for adults. Please DONATE to Nifty. This site has been around for so long and helped so many of us express and share our fantasies. My one request, from you, dear reader, is if this story makes you cum, donate $1. If you're coming back to re-read this story, donate $2. ------------------------------------------------------------ Jack and Mark The pitch lights went out, leaving Jack standing alone in the dusk by the goal line in the deserted arena. He looked toward his team's changing room. The lights were slowly being turned off, much to his chagrin. Mark was almost done with his assistant coach duties. In his impatience, Jack lingered in the cool, breezy late September night, reliving again his clutch, game winning try. The preteen suddenly turned and sprinted, his tight grass-stained rugby uniform and blond hair a blur in the growing darkness. Jack felt great! It wasn't everyday his rugby club won against their biggest rival, Fernhill. His shoulders and bum still tingled from the innumerable slaps his teammates gifted when they all raced out onto the pitch for the victory dog pile. What a feeling, but what made Jack happy was seeing Mark's ear-to-ear grin and when the man picked him up onto his broad shoulders. Jack wished Mark coached the team instead of just assisting and taking none of the credit. Mark knew more about rugby that anybody. Plus the fact he played for the Scottish National team before his ACL injury. However, Mr. MacDougall was the manager. Despite knowing next-to-nothing when it came to the sport, his wealth purchased his position. Thus, it came down to Mark to run and manage the team to their victories. Jack despised the MacDougall clan, especially his son, Rory. Rory was tall, with flaming auburn hair, and the team's best hooker, but Jack thought he was a pretentious, entitled know-it-all who whined too much and acted stuck up because his family built half of Glasgow. Jack would never say that out loud again, though. If he did, Mark would chew him out, or worse, withhold his affections. Teamwork, Mark insisted, was far more important than his own preferences. The team needed Rory's skills and speed, and Jack could damn well keep his mouth shut and his thoughts to himself. "Let me take care of Rory's whining," Mark sighed into his ear after a particularly hard practice. "You just work on being the best scrum-half. I'd better not hear a single criticism about him, even if he provokes you. Understand?" Jack simply nodded. Hurt and confused as to why Mark always defended the arrogant player. Perhaps he also was intimate with the redhead, but the boy kept those thoughts at bay almost constantly. As far as Jack was concerned, Mark's word was gospel. Mark could tell him to jump off the cliffs and Jack would do it, no questions asked. Jack couldn't adequately articulate why this was, but he knew it right. The way he felt about Mark was different from the way he had felt about anyone else. No one -- not his mother, none of her boyfriends, none of his teachers -- affected him as much or as powerfully as Mark. For Jack, Mark was the most important person in the world. Mark was the reason Jack started playing rugby. Mark paid for his registration, got him on the same team he was helping manage, and then bought him everything he could need. Mark came to his home before every practice to pick him up for practices and games. It was Mark who helped him with his maths and science homework, Mark who made sure he had nutritious meals that weren't microwave dinners, and it was Mark who praised his accomplishments. While Mark was very encouraging, it was his praises that Jack sought above all else. Jack would do anything for Mark, and he knew that the man felt the same way about him. Stepping into the now empty and dark changing room, Jack reached out to fumble for the bench furthest from the door. That was his and Mark's secret spot. Then, methodically removing his grass-stained shirt, mud-caked cleats, he placed them in the only unlocked locker. Once these were safely out of the way, he unbuttoned his form fitting shorts and peeled them down to his ankles, leaving his jock in place. The warm, humid air caressed his bare thighs. Jack sat on the end of the bench, the grain of its wooden surface pressing on his naked bum. After playing with the hardness that tented up the pouch of his jock. Then sensuously he slid his left hand over the smooth side of his butt cheek, stroking the light brown birthmark. He hated that blemish, but Mark would always kiss it and tell the boy how much he loves it. With his right hand, he felt the diamond stud Mark bought him for his 13th birthday. Mark would be coming as soon as he finished locking up, and this was how Mark liked to find him: stretched out on the bench, almost naked, in the dark anticipating his arrival. Being alone together like this was why both coach and player volunteered to stay late, clean up, and close the field after games. While Jack waited to hear Mark's approaching footsteps, Jack brought one hand down and pushed it beneath his tented jock. Stripping himself and thinking about Mark had made him so rigid he could hear his heartbeats, feel each throb of his erect penis when he touched himself. Stroking the hard shaft, brushing his fingertips on the newly sprouted downy wisps of hair, he wished for the umpteenth time that he were bigger. Rory had a beautiful uncut cock framed nicely with red pubic hair and more than once thought about licking the covered tip. When he told Mark how he wished for a larger cock, Mark cradled his face with his strong hands and told him he was big enough for his age. Jack couldn't help but grow jealous and imagined how many other boy penises his man admired. In the silent darkness, interrupted by the occasional drip of leaky shower-heads and the distant hum of cars passing the school. Then came the faint sound of the coach's office door closing. Mark would check and lock the doors now, and then he would come. Jack gave himself a few more quick jerks, arching his back and hips, before drawing his hands out from under the jock's elastic waistband. His new jock was another thing Mark had purchased for him. Initially, Jack loved playing commando under his rugby uniform, enjoying the way his tight shorts would accentuate his preteen bulge and his high tight bubble butt. Is it any surprise that when he was pilled on in the scrum that an odd boner would pop up and several boys would stare? One or two even managed to squeeze it before the pile dissipated. When Mark saw how he was being teased, Mark prudently purchased him the jock and showed the boy how to wear it so that his boners wouldn't be so prominent and still feel somewhat bare under the shorts. Eagerly listening for Mark's footsteps, Jack slid a soft palm over his lean chest and stomach, arching to squeeze his butt and make his stiff penis strain against the constricting jock. At night, when he heard his mother's boyfriends pound his mother against the thin walls, he would lay naked in bed, prepubescent cock hard and curving slightly to the left while his hands wandered over the silky smoothness of his body. He loved stroking himself, finding new erogenous zones, but it was infinitely better when Mark did it. A soft nose came form the outside. His heartbeats, almost tachycardic, in eager anticipation, Jack stretched out again and struggled to relax and be patient. Putting both hands behind his head and half-smiling at the approaching shadow. A shadowy form encompassed the locker room entrance, then Mark stepped inside, kneeling beside him, and Jack's boner ached with hardness as he caught the man's familiar scent. He stretched back, arching his body, impatient for the man's touch. Mark's hand sent tingles racing through him. Mark's calloused palm felt so different from his own! Jack loved the feel of it, and he gave a tiny, and involuntary moan of pleasure as the rough hand stroked down his side and then caressed his lean stomach with slow, circling movements. Trying to hold as still as he could, Jack could not avoid jerking suddenly when Mark's fingertips slid onto his chest, lightly brushing across his pale pink nipples. Part of him wanted to grab Mark's hand and guide it to where his rigid boner was straining against his jock; but he knew it was even better to wait and let Mark keep stroking him, building tension in his body. The man's palm brushed his nipples again and then glided slowly down to the hollow of his waist. Jack caught his breath at the throb that surged deep within him. It felt so good when Mark did that! He always wanted it to go on and on - and tonight it seemed even better because of his game-winning score, and knowing how proud Mark was of him! More than anything, Jack wanted Mark to be proud of him; he was ready to do anything for it. As Mark's hand stroked back and forth on the side of his butt, Jack squeezed, barely holding back the tension mounting within him. Slowly, with a gentle caress, the man's palm slid onto Jack's thigh and the boy spread his knees, eager for the touch of the calloused hand along the inside of his smooth legs. When it came, and the edge of Mark's palm pushed up into his crotch, Jack stretched back, arching even more and squirming with pleasure as the tips of Mark's fingers stroked along his groin creases. A moment later the fingers were rubbing the outline of his rigid boner in the pouch of his jock and Jack felt aching pressure at the base of his shaft. Straining to pull his knees apart, Jack made another tiny yelp as Mark kept stroking him. It felt so good -- so good when Mark did it -- better than with anyone else. When the man pushed at the jock's elastic waist, Jack sucked in his stomach, inviting a further sliding down beneath, eager for what he knew was coming. The first touch of Mark's fingers on the slick, stretched skin of his rigid penis sent thrills shooting through the boy's groin, making him catch his breath. He twisted, squeezing his butt as Mark rubbed him, and then lifted his hips so the man could finish stripping him by pushing the jock off over his thighs and knees until it was down around his ankles with his shorts. Naked except for knee socks, Jack stretched again, squeezing and arching his body to make his stiff penis, now freed of constriction, jut up straight from his groin and wave at Mark. His shaft hardened even more at the feathery touch of open air. Then Mark's fingers were rubbing, bringing more aching pressure mounting within him, and Jack squirmed wanting more and more. It felt so good... so good... He tensed, holding himself on the edge as a throb made his hips jerk. At the sudden movement, Mark stopped rubbing and slid his hand onto Jack's side, stroking down to the boy's hip. Jack squeezed his butt tight, containing himself until the sense of urgency in his groin eased. Then Mark pulled him up to a sitting position. They didn't talk. They never did when they were doing it; each of them knew from experience what the other wanted. Jack rubbed himself with his fist while he waited for Mark to slide his shorts and boxers down; then he leaned forward. The blunt head of the man's erection brushed his lips and Jack licked it, opening his mouth to let it slide in. With Mark's hands on his shoulders, Jack relaxed his throat in the way he had learned to do, so he could take nearly the full length of the man's shaft. He breathed in Mark's scent, filling his nose with it, the same way Mark's thick hardness was filling his mouth. Jack loved the smell of washed denim, leather, aftershave and sweat that was Mark's essence. Just a whiff of it, standing close to Mark at rugby practice, was enough to make him hard. In the van, leaning against Mark, with the man's arm hugging him, Jack always closed his eyes, feeling safe with the fragrance permeating him. Now he breathed it in, filling himself with it, while he held Mark's blunt tip in the back of his throat and then with a shudder of ecstasy, he let the hard shaft slide back and forth in his mouth, tonguing it and licking the shaft. The grip Mark had on his shoulders tightened and Jack took hold of the man's hips, steadying himself and rubbing with his palms on Mark's trimmed butt. Doing Mark was so good. All the men Jack had done in the shopping centre had been pudgy and fat, with tangled bushes of smelly hair all around their dicks. Mark's body was lean and hard, with soft hairs which he manscaped regularly. Jack loved touching his man. He let the thick tip of Mark's shaft go all the way down his throat, taking the full length so he could press his face against the man's groin, inhaling the scent, while he slid a hand over the hard muscular ridges in Mark's belly. Even when Jack had been learning to do Brodie, the boy who had taught him, it had never been this nice. When Jack had been eleven, Brodie had shown him how to get money at the shopping mall, first coaching him in the art of sucking and then demonstrating how to pick up tricks. Jack could still remember his first scary time, crouched on a toilet seat in a stall, waiting for a strange man to unzip in front of him. "There's two kinds," Brodie had warned him. "Most are okay, but some are mean. Stay in the shopping centre. Dinnae let anybody take you outside, like to a car. Get the money up front, and never get fucked in the arse." It had been months before Jack found out that Brodie was keeping half his trick money, and after that they weren't friends anymore. Brodie must have forgotten his own warnings, because Jack saw him later riding in cars with different men. Then Brodie had disappeared, and Jack had heard at school that he was in jail for selling coke. In the year that followed Jack worked alone, learning to vary his routine, going to different sites like the parking lot by the `greasy spoon' cafe favoured by lorry drivers and park toilets, always observing the cautions Brodie had taught him. When he had first met Mark at the Arcade, he had looked at Mark's lean, fit build and been sure he was an undercover cop. But Mark had been nicer than anyone Jack had ever met, and it hadn't been long before they were sipping Cokes together in the food court, talking about rugby. Jack had related how he had to on the social work team doing work in the big council housing schemes, and when Mark suggested they drive to a nearby park for a game of catch, Jack had followed him out of the mall and climbed into Mark's van without a second thought. "Every kid needs somebody," Mark had said once and Jack had hugged him then, because he knew exactly how that was. On the night Brodie had ignored his own warnings and gone with a man out of the mall, had he been looking for somebody, too? Maybe - but Brodie hadn't been lucky. Jack bobbed his head, letting Mark's shaft slide in his mouth, licking it with his tongue. When he felt the man quiver, he locked his face to Mark's groin, opening his mouth to let the blunt head go all the way down while he held his breath, hugging Mark's hips. There was a quick throb in the mouth-filling hardness and then Mark was stroking his hair as Jack eased his grip. If they had been in the van, Jack would have kept going until Mark got off into his mouth, but in the dugout they followed a different routine. He drew his head back, releasing pent-up breath; then, after giving Mark's rod a final lick, he stretched back out on the bench, arms flung over his head. In the darkness he felt his hard penis straining up, straight and rigid out of his groin. Mark's shadow loomed over him; then the man's tongue slid up his shaft and it was Jack's turn to feel himself enveloped in moist warmth. He gave a soft little groan of pleasure, squeezing his butt to make his boner as hard as he could. This felt so right! In the shopping malls, strangers had sucked him dozens of times, but it had never been as good as when Mark did it. Those men had just done it for themselves, but Jack knew Mark was doing it for him, and the knowledge made him feel like the most special kid in the world. Growing tension radiated through his groin as his achingly hard boner slid in Mark's warm mouth and he parted his knees, squeezing to hold himself back. So good, he thought. Too good... Way too good... Mark's lips pulled away. Jack felt a tap and, shuddering with anticipation, he lifted his legs, pulling his knees to his chest. The bunched up shorts around his ankles tickled his nut sac as he rolled back slightly to spread his butt. There was a sudden smell of massage oil, then a greasy touch in his butt crack and a finger pushed into his rectum. Jack caught his breath, hugging his knees as the finger slid in, sensation radiating through groin and belly. He loved this more than anything, even though the first time he had been crying because he was so scared. Brodie had told him over and over that kids who took it up the arse got their butts ripped and never stopped shitting their pants. Jack had fought off any of the men who tried. But Mark had said it wasn't like that at all, and Mark had been so different. More than anything, Jack had wanted to trust him, so even though he had been frightened he had let Mark do it -- and Mark had been so gentle. Brodie had been wrong. Jack strained to bear down, opening himself the way Mark had taught him, and a second finger pushed into his opening. The fullness in his rectum sent a pleasurable aching deep into his belly. Then Mark pressed on the special place at the root of his straining boner and ecstasy shot through Jack's body. He pulled his head back, moaning softly. When Mark's fingers slid out, Jack straightened his legs and then let the man help him to his feet. Strong arms came around him and Jack hugged in return, pressing against Mark's warm hard body, pushing beneath the man's shirt to stroke the muscular back. He loved touching Mark. Out in the open they had to be careful, but when they were alone, especially in the van, Jack liked to cuddle close, rubbing a hand on Mark's firm warmth. Thrills shuddered within Jack as he was held tight and a rough caressing palm slid down onto his butt. Nothing in his whole life had made Jack feel as good as he did with Mark. Lifting his head, he offered his mouth, opening it when they kissed so Mark's tongue could slide in. When he had gone in search of men before, Jack had never let anyone kiss him - not even for extra money. But with Mark it was all different. He opened his mouth wider, wanting to feel Mark deep inside him, and the urgency building in his groin made him squirm his hips, rubbing his stiff boner on Mark's thigh. They writhed against each other, each breathing the other's breath. Then Jack could wait no longer. He tugged at Mark, signalling for the man to withdraw his tongue, and they changed positions, careful not to trip on the clothing around their ankles. Mark took the spot by the end of the bench while Jack waited with his back to him, heart pounding as he rubbed himself with his fist in the dark. The smell of massage oil was there again and Jack's lips parted in excitement because he knew Mark was coating his rod with it. The locker room was the only place they used the massage oil. It was a special thing, just like they saved the coconut lotion for times when they did it at Ayr beach. Mark had different stuff for all their different places, and Jack knew that it was to make it nice for him that Mark did that. He wished Mark didn't have to live with roommates and had his own apartment, but until Mark got a good job and could live on his own they had to use other places. Once, when Jack's mother had been gone with a new boyfriend, they had done it at the apartment and for days after Jack had lain awake in his bed at night, smelling the scent they had used and aching to feel Mark inside him again. An oily hand touched his shoulder and he bent over, reaching back with both hands to spread his cheeks. He felt the brush of Mark's fingers searching for his hole, then the pressure of a blunt tip. Jack bore down, pulling his head back as the stretching of his ring sent pleasure and pain radiating into his loins. With the bump that was like a popping sensation, Mark came into him and Jack felt the penetrating hardness he had learned to crave ever since Mark had first fucked him. He anticipation was so yearned for that his knees almost buckled, but Mark steadied him with an arm around his waist. Jack moaned in pleasure, struggling to push back so he could be filled completely. Urine dribbled from his boner as he strained down. Then Mark pulled him back onto the bench and Jack let the rigid hardness slide deep into his body, impaling himself on its full length in one fluid motion. Lying on top of Mark, with the man's arm around him and the warmth of Mark's body against his back, Jack felt the thrusting pressure in his butt that made his own boner stick up, rigid and straight. He stretched, extending his arms back over his head, squirming in ecstasy. Before Mark had done him, he had never thought anything could feel so good, and now it was like he wanted Mark in him all the time. There'd be moments when he'd be listening to this Maths teacher drone on, when he wouldn't imagine Mark escorting him to the cafeteria and taking him in front of the whole school. He arched his body, pulling his head back and parting his thighs as far as he could, wishing he could kick off the shorts around his ankles. In the changing room, they never took their clothes off all the way because the echoes of their fucking always masked any incoming footsteps, so the shorts had to stay. By twisting his hips on the jutting thickness filling him, Jack sent an ache of pleasure into the pit of his belly, and he caught his breath, moaning at how good it felt. At first when they had done it, Jack had been afraid to make noise. He had even been nervous about moving, but Mark had told him that moving around and making noise was okay, so now he did it all the time because he liked it so much. He writhed, moaning again, while Mark's hands slid down his chest and belly all the way to his groin where they rubbed on his jutting boner. Jack stretched back, letting the moving fingers and penetrating fullness in his rectum make his rigid penis strain upward. Shuddering thrills raced through him, then a throbbing deep in his loins made him jerk and Mark wrapped an arm around his waist to hold him tight. Jack had known about rubbing himself since he had been small. Now, sometimes, he could make himself come a little, but that was nothing like what he felt when Mark did it. With a soft cry Jack gave himself up to the waves of sensation breaking over him, closing his eyes as more throbs pulsed in his groin. Beneath him, he felt Mark's hips lifting, and each thrust was an ache of pleasure deep in Jack's gut. His mouth opened and he gave a little groan as pulsing contractions jerked his own hips making his lower legs kick. Urgent pressure was building inside him, but with his opening stretched by Mark's rod Jack had no way of squeezing to hold back, even if he had wanted to. He twisted on the impaling thrusts, writhing and arching, while dribbles of wetness rolled off his tip onto Mark's stroking fingers. Pressure mounted in a surge of ecstasy and he pulled his head back, body rigid with tension. In pulse after pulse waves of release crashed over him and suddenly he was jerking, legs kicking, spurt after spurt shooting from his straining boner all over his chest and belly in a slick warmth that Jack loved, bringing a spasm of even harder contractions into his shaft. Mark prolonged him by pushing a finger in his belly button, and Jack's young body jerked until he thought he might die of pleasure. It went on and on, and then Mark was heaving too, coming inside him, and Jack wanted him to keep going always and forever and never, never stop. It did finally stop. It always did, no matter how hard he tried. Jack lay sprawled on top of Mark, head lolling, while the man's hands caressing him all over. Jack drifted. The fullness was still up in him and Mark's palm rubbed back and forth on his chest, smearing the streaks of glistening come into his skin. He felt so good now, the way he always did afterwards with Mark's arms around him, and he wished the feeling would never change. But the hardness inside was softening, just as his own had. Gradually the fullness lessened, then slid out, leaving Jack empty and already wanting the next time, so he could be filled once more. The smell of massage oil was in his nose again. Mark was rubbing it into his belly button and hip; giving him loving caresses that tickled just enough so Jack had to giggle. Sudden happiness flooded through him and he thought of the many games when he had sat on the bench, sniffing the massage oil left on his uniform, picturing what he and Mark would do later -- and then the pride he would see in Mark's eyes when he ran, rugby shorts tight on his butt and a bulge showing in front despite the jock. Every hit he got, every great play he made, brought the magic - the magic of knowing how proud Mark would be -- and tonight, his game winning score had been the very best of all! It was magic all over again as he thought of it and suddenly Jack squirmed, turning over with Mark's help, so he could wrap his arms around the man and hug him so tight he never wanted to let go. "My rugby boy," Mark whispered, stroking him. "My wonderful boy." >From somewhere in the humid darkness out beyond the walls came the faint sound of rap booming on a car stereo. It throbbed for a while, a distant primitive pulse in the night and then faded away. Jack lay pressed against Mark's hard warmth, his lower legs pulled up and the man's arms around him, both content despite the awkward position. Part of the excitement of using the changing room was doing it on the narrow bench and Jack didn't mind any discomfort. He would have been willing to stay much longer but Mark was tickling, which meant he wanted to get up, so Jack straightened his legs and, moving clumsily because of the shorts around his ankles, he let Mark push him to his feet. When they were both standing, they hugged. "We'd better get something for you to eat," Mark whispered. Jack squirmed, rubbing against him, then reached down to tug at the man's penis. "I mean, besides that," the man told him with another kiss. "Where do you want to go?" "Orlando's," Jack told him happily, and they grinned at each other. Orlando's was Jack's most favourite place of all to eat and part of their good luck ritual after every win was for Mark to take him there. They hugged again and then Mark knelt down to kiss the birthmark on Jack's butt cheek, which was another part of their good luck ritual. With Mark's help, Jack got his jock and shorts back up and then retrieved his shirt while Mark dressed. When they were out of the changing room and walking to the truck, Jack looked back over his shoulder at the dark, empty pitch. Winning against Fernhill was the highlight of his 13th year. Tomorrow, he and Mark would go to the beach in celebration, and stay at a hotel where they could do all the things Jack liked. Then, the next day, the whole team would leave in a car caravan for the Scottish final. Most years their district was the strongest, so Jack knew they could win; and he was going to get more big hits to make sure they did, because... Jack took a breath to compose himself. The dream was so close now! A win at the Scottish final would send them all the way to the British Championship, and the game would be broadcast on tv as they strived for the biggest prize of all ---defeating the English on their own soil! Jack wanted it so bad he was ready to do anything -- not just for himself, but for Mark, too. If the team did well enough, Mark would get the good job he wanted as a league coach. Then he could afford his own apartment, and Jack could live with him all the time. There wouldn't have to be anymore junky government apartments, or his mother's doped up boyfriends. Jack touched himself, rubbing his crotch. He was soft now, but he knew it would be hard again later. He wished Mark already had his apartment and they were going back to it. Mark had told him that, soon, as he got older, he was going to start liking girls more, and Jack was sure it was true; not just because Mark had said it, but because he already sort of did. But the girls his age all wanted to go with older kids, and being around girls still kind of scared him. For now, he liked it best being with Mark, where he felt safe. He put his arm around Mark's waist and the man hugged his shoulders in return. Looking up, Jack imagined how it was going to feel, standing on the pitch, wearing his Scottish uniform on tv. They were going to win, he was sure - and Mark was going to be so proud of him. In his mind's eye he saw himself running the ball in, breaking past the Union Jacks and St George's flags, and scoring the game-winning points, which in turn would mark another step towards a proud independent Scotland. It was all going to happen. He just knew it! And when he stood after the goal, with the crowd cheering and his excited teammates swarming around him, he would catch sight of Mark's grin and it would be the most wonderful incredible thing that had ever been in the whole entire world! TBC? ---- Want more stories? For every 10 feedback/comment emails I receive, I'll post a new story or installment. My other stories include: http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/sleep-away-camp http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/travel-baskeball-coach http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/fallback-sitter