Date: Tue, 12 Feb 2019 03:42:00 +0000 (UTC) From: Aaron Deepneau Subject: Little White Pills, Chapter 25 Looks like I've still got a few ideas rattling around for the LWP universe; enjoy the latest installment. Everything here is a work of fiction as usual. And be sure to spread a little kindness to Nifty too: you can donate to them at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Chapter 25: "Play Ball!" Jeremy carefully hung up the phone in his office, checked to see his door was closed, and drew in his breath. "FUUUCK!! Fuckity fuckity fuck--shit!!" He really hoped his frustration hadn't come through on the call: Linda was a really sweet lady, and she had enough going on right now with poor Ron. The last thing she needed was her husband's assistant coach unleashing on her while she was in the hospital, wondering if her husband was going to recover from his stroke at all--never mind enough to get back to working full time. And Jeremy really like the old guy. Hell, he'd been about the only one willing to take a chance on Jeremy after his fuckup in Arizona. God knew Denise hadn't been--but his probably soon-to-be-ex wife was way, way down on his list of things to worry about today. Especially after the bad news from poor Linda. It's not that he didn't know how to run a baseball team--his previous team's winning record hadn't been just because of the performance-enhancing drugs--it was just that he didn't know how to run _this one. Obviously he knew the roster, and he and Ron had been talking things over for a couple of months, since he'd gotten the job, but he hadn't really gotten to know the guys much before midwinter break came up. He'd at least talked to Ron a little about the situation with Tyler and his knee, and probably Eric would be a decent starting catcher, but then "The Twins'" parents had called him this morning within a few minutes of each other, to let him know that his star pitcher and his star shortstop had managed to smash each other in the head during a pickup basketball game--a goddamn pickup game!--and not only were they were concussed, but Andy had banged up his elbow good and they were checking to see if it was broken, while freakin' Ollie had twisted his ankle. They were both going to be off the roster for at least three weeks, and Andy maybe longer. Andy and Ollie...Jeremy had to shake his head. For two guys who weren't even actually related, their ability to screw up in unison was unbelievable. Of course, when they got on the field their ability to read each others' moves was a beautiful sight to behold, at least if they were on your team. But now they were out for a big chunk of the season, not even able to train until the doc cleared them. Which meant he was going to lose them (especially Andy and his golden arm) for more games than he'd like to think about. And with a tough set of games early in the schedule, Jeremy wasn't sure how much slack his Athletic Director was going to cut him before she overruled Ron and kicked his ass to the curb. Ron hadn't said anything, but Jeremy got the idea that hiring him had taken a bit of politicking. He pressed his head into his hands...shit, what was he gonna do? Maybe if he and Ron could've talked it over more they'd figure out how to fill in their holes, but he kept coming up blank. This just wasn't a big enough college to have a solid bench he could pull from. He had to get these guys back on the field--he had to! As the room darkened into early evening he made his decision. He hated it, and it might not even work, but he'd be more careful this time, much more careful. He pulled up Carlos's number on his phone. At the time he'd almost deleted it, but now it might just be what saved his job. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ty closed the door. "We got a problem boss," he said grimly. TJ looked up from his desk. Normally he enjoyed checking out his sorta-boyfriend's bod, especially since door closing often led to a hot quickie, but the tall black man had his Chief of Security face on, and that was not a good sign. "What?" "Caught one of the techs boosting some of our experimental stuff from the lab." "Which stuff?" TJ asked warily. Usually Ty didn't hassle him about this sort of thing, which meant he was going to have to put on his Senior Director hat. Crap. "The T supplement for those phase 3 trials? The 'deodorant' stuff?" "Uh huh?..." Ty waited for the other shoe to drop. He knew all about it of course: this was their shot at a decent revenue stream finally from all their work (not that the CUY thing didn't come with a lot of money too, but dealing with government spooks was turning out to be more of a hassle than he'd realized when he'd sold Ollo on the project). So a legit commercial product was a godsend, especially since the bean counters had started taking a long hard look at R&D spend lately. And this thing looked good too: testosterone and some growth hormones, plus an SN4965 derivative that boosted sex drive but didn't seem to make guys instantly crave dick. Well, at least the rats hadn't. But the lab results had looked good, and James swore they could patent the shit out of it. Viagra was a two-billion-dollar-a-year business and then some; if they could capture even a fraction of it selling to older guys who wanted their sex drive and younger bodies back they'd be rolling in it, everyone who'd worked on the project. TJ could ride this all the way to the top if he could pull it off. If Ty wasn't about to tell him it was going to run off the rails. "My guy caught him with a couple of the sticks in his pocket; he'd swapped them out for some Right Guard he'd put in the dispensers instead." TJ felt his stomach drop. "How many others had he swapped out?" "He had two today...but we checked the rest of the samples and four more were Right Guards." "How long ago?" "Don't know, but he didn't have them on him or in his locker. We're sending a couple guys to his apartment now, and we've got him downstairs, but so far he's not talking." "Damnit Ty!" TJ sucked in his breath; screaming wasn't going to help right now. But...fuck!! "How did this happen? We have cameras in all those labs, the storerooms--what the hell were your guys doing?!" "We're just looking at the tapes now, but he was the tech moving the stuff from the cages to the lab; it looks like he swapped them while he was pushing the cart." Ty had started to sweat: he knew his job was on the line as much as TJ's. Moreso if the man behind the desk decided he was more boss than boyfriend. "Shit." TJ looked out the window, thinking. "Shit." He drummed his fingers for a minute. "Bring him up here. _Discreetly." "Sure thing." Ty nodded and disappeared. TJ thought furiously. James could probably replace the missing batch in a week or so, and the FDA wouldn't squawk over a minor slip like that; this first run was just a three-day trial anyway. But the whole point of Phase 3 trials was to check for dosage and side effects. During the SN4965 trial they'd been able to (barely) explain away the "side effects" of their little white pills; he doubted they'd get lucky twice. Especially now that the effects were in the paperwork. Deep in the paperwork, but still...if anyone in town showed up with similar effects there'd be a lot of awkward questions. And not just official ones: the Project CUY folks would start sniffing around too, and then he'd go from two promising projects to zero. Shit. Okay, one thing at a time. Right on cue there was a knock, and Ty appeared with one of his bruisers who knew how to loom menacingly. Standing in front was a short wiry Hispanic guy; his name tag read Dante, and his face was flushed. He knew he was busted. Ty closed the door behind them and Dante swallowed nervously. TJ eyed him for a good minute, not saying a word. The guy snapped. "Look, uh, TJ, there's been a mistake or something--I don't know what these guys told you, but--" "Shut up." TJ stood up and walked around the desk. He wasn't Ty's size, let alone the bruiser's, but he was bigger than this guy. Big enough to make the tech look up slightly when TJ got in hisw space. "Don't waste your time bullshitting me. You stole from us, from a very important project that might whave made you very rich if you hadn't fucked things up. So now we're gonna do one of two things. You will go with these two gentlemen, and you will answer every question they give you, leaving nothing out, and you will stay on the premises until they verify everything you say. If you are helpful enough we will quietly let you go--no severance pay--and you will vanish from this town." Dante started to protest, but TJ talked over him. "OR. We will call the cops right now and have them toss you in the slammer without bail while they sort things out." The tech looked relieved--he knew they'd have trouble proving much beyond petty theft. Interesting that he thought the alternative was worse. "But before you do we will dose you up with one of our special products. The one that makes guys wanna get fucked anyway they can. We will pump you full of it, and leave you in jail with the drunks, the meth heads, and the fag-hating bikers. You will spend your time there begging them to fuck you with a broom handle. You'll leave with more STDs than we have names for, and you won't care because you'll still be hungry for cock. You'll spend the rest of your miserable life face down, ass up under a bridge as the guest of honor at a nonstop hobo gang bang." TJ leaned in all the way and flashed his best shark smile. "So what'll it be?" The tech quailed. He clearly had no idea TJ was bluffing: fast-acting or slow, none of James's little molecules had much effect on libido beyond a few hours. Which is why the whole aphrodisiac angle had gotten shut down after all. But this guy didn't know that: he'd seen how crazy some of the guys had gotten during the trial and assumed that was the way they stayed. Good, TJ thought. When you assume your ass belongs to me. "Okay, umm, I'll, uh--the first one," Dante said. "Good man, I knew you'd make the right choice." TJ gave that smile again. "Ty, make sure you get what we need. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." He shot the tall black man a meaningful look and Ty nodded back. The sex drugs were pretty much one-shot uses, but Liquid Bible had no such limits. The security pair left with their thief, and TJ went back to his desk. His full day had just gotten a lot busier. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Tyler bolted across the quad as fast as he could, until one of his crutches slipped on a patch of ice and he nearly landed on his ass. That would be perfect: it'd be freakin' hilarious if he ended up busting something else just as that gel or whatever Coach had gotten him seemed like it was starting to help his knee. It'd been a week or so, and already he could tell it was feeling better. He stopped for a minute and forced himself to calm down. After a couple of deep breaths he looked around. Okay, fine...almost no one around, and no one paying attention to him. And the little crowd spilling out of the student union wasn't looking at him or heading his way. So, cool. He was cool. He hadn't even intended to go to the Gay-Straight Alliance meeting anyway. He'd seen the posters up--"Join the GSA This Tuesday!"--but it was just going to be a bunch of effeminate theater guys and some token student body rep probably. And he wasn't _gay gay, not like those guys: he had a girlfriend (from high school--he and Katie were three years together next week!) who was hot and was great in bed! Even if it was too long a drive for them to get together much, still, they were smashing. A lot. And maybe sometimes he did think about guys a little, but just when he was super horny and jerking off. He definitely wasn't hooking up with anyone, or even trying to. So he hadn't even been thinking about going to the GSA thing, but when he'd walked by he'd seen a group of guys heading in that were definitely NOT arts nerds: they'd obviously been jocks. And one of them (the short one) had worn a sweat shirt with "BAMF" on it in big-ass rainbow letters, so...he was gay? Tyler had trailed after them, drawn by curiosity, and after going back and forth for a few minutes he'd slipped in the back of the room as people were introducing themselves. No one had noticed him come in, which was fine. Not that he couldn't be the S in GSA, but why get people asking questions? The short jock had been the third to stand up; he'd given a little wave as he did. "Hi, I'm Joey, and I'm--" "A Bad-Ass Motherfucker!" the bald black guy next to him had boomed. "Shut up Dmitri." Joey had shot him a good-humored look that said he was used to giving and taking a lot of shit from this guy. "I wore your damn sweat shirt, didn't I?" "And you look _faabulous baby," Dmitri had shot back, then doubled over as the gorgeous black woman next to him had planted her elbow in his gut. She and Joey had shared an eye roll. "Aaanyway...I'm on the wrestling team, and I'm gay. He" Joey had pointed to his wheezing friend, "didn't make the cut. Just plain straight." Tyler had been floored as the meeting went on. This was so not what he'd expected. This guy Joey was...he was really good looking. And a jock! And he had a boyfriend, and he and another guy were on the team and they were gay, and half the team had shown up and they were all buddies. This was just so.... He didn't know what--normal, maybe? After all the intros (no one seemed to have noticed him in the back) there had been a bunch of chatter about upcoming events, but Tyler had been too busy processing everything to pay much attention. It was one thing to see "Will and Grace" reruns, but seeing these guys holding hands and hanging out with their buddies was totally different. He'd felt the adrenaline rushing through him, making his hands sweaty on the crutches. "Hi, I'm Anne." His thoughts had been interrupted by a tall girl with short dirty blond hair in green flannel, cargo pants, and combat boots. "I'm a lesbian," she'd stage whispered, and stuck out her hand. "Uh..." How the hell had she snuck up on him like that? Tyler had taken her hand automatically, but it was time to go before he got sucked into this. "Sorry, I think I ended up in the wrong meeting by mistake. Sorry, gotta run." He'd fumbled to slip his gloves back on while hopping back out the door. "Sure, no problem. But you're welcome to hang out if you want. Everyone's welcome, even straight folks," she'd joked. "Thanks, uh, maybe next time. Gotta hit the books!" Tyler had flashed a smile and bolted. Okay, he thought, that wasn't so bad. No one he knew had seen him, and that Anne chick didn't know his name. So no big deal. But as he hobbled across the quad to the library (he really did have work to do), he kept seeing Joey kissing his equally hot--well, good-looking--boyfriend. Not to mention the other guy on the team--Darrin?--and his also very built boyfriend. Tyler had jerked off to MMF pornos a few times, just for something different, but these guys were...shit, he was horny as hell. He decided to hit the library bathroom on the way to the stacks. He wasn't going to get any studying done until he rubbed one out, that was for sure. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Andy and Ollie staggered back to their room, and tore into the subs they'd picked up at Louie's Hot Truck on the way back to the dorm; they were both ravenous. The TKE party had been a total bust: both of them had been inches from closing the deal when the chicks they were with suddenly backed off. "Not even a handy," Ollie had grumbled, dark eyebrows lowered in a grimace. "At least you got felt up. One minute she had her tongue down my throat, and the next she's all like 'Waaah, I'm not feeling it. My friends are waiting. Waaah.' Shiiiit." The rangy blond grumbled and bit into his meatball sub, and his face lit up as he devoured it. "Mmmmph! 'S so freakin' good!" "Mmhmm!" Ollie agreed enthusiastically through a mouthful of Italian cold cuts. He swallowed and licked his fingers clean. "Holy crap I was hungry!" He reached over to Andy's desk and tugged at a drawer. "Dude, I'm still starving. Lemme have one of your Clif bars." His lanky teammate grimaced but moved one hairy calf out of the way. "How many of those you gonna eat Ollie? You've gone through--" he looked down as his best friend fished one out of the drawer "--holy crap, that's almost the last one! You owe me a new box." Ollie nodded as he tore open the wrapper and bit off a chunk. "Sorry Andy, but man I'm just so hungry all the time. " He swallowed and took another bite. "Anyway, you've been chowing down too." He gestured with his remaining chunk of Clif bar. "Yeah..." Andy's lean face looked thoughtful for a moment, and then he reached in and fished out the last bar for himself. "You think it's the...you know?" Ollie's Italian features squinched up in thought as he chewed on the last of his bar. "I guess maybe." He swallowed and licked his fingers clean. "Coach said there were some hormones in there right? Like steroids, didn't he say? We're sure getting better a lot quicker than they thought, right?" He grinned, showing even white teeth. "Just a coupla growing boys." "Mmhmmph." Andy nodded agreement while he wolfed down his bar, blue eyes widening as a thought occurred; he swallowed. "Hey, don't steroids make your dick shrink up?" He looked down at the crotch of his sweat pants. "Shit." Ollie laughed easily--Andy had always been the worrier of the two, ever since they'd met in third grade and Ollie had saved him from a bee. "Not me man. My salume is doing just fine." He groped his crotch and leered, making Andy laugh. Ollie wasn't Italian--his parents were--but he'd made it a point to learn the name of every Italian meat that might possibly refer to his dick. He cocked one black eyebrow. "Your Vienna sausage giving you some trouble?" "Nah man, no. No way. I mean actually," he leaned forward and lowered his voice, even though there was no one in their dorm room to hear them, "I've been going into overdrive lately, if you know what I mean." Ollie knew: he and Andy had been swapping porn almost since they'd hit puberty, and they didn't have any secrets from each other. And this was their second year rooming together; they knew when the other was taking a little "alone time," with or without a guest. "Yeah? You too? Like," Ollie leaned in, "how much?" Andy leaned back and shrugged. "Every day, maybe twice. Three times Monday." He blushed, but only a little; it wasn't the first time they'd talked about this sort of thing. Ollie leaned back and laughed. "Holy shit Andy, that's a lot of Jergens. You're gonna go blind, you keep that up." "I know, right? How about you, Italian stallion?" He gestured at the laundry basket. "Lotta socks in there." "Yeah," Ollie scratched his chin, "I guess I have been on kind of a tear. A coupla times a day for sure, more the last few days." He grinned. "Four yesterday." "Holy shit--four? No wonder our room smells like jizz. What are you, like a jerkoff ninja or something? I'm in here almost all the time." "Yeah, but you sleep like a rock. And, you know, the shower, and the bathrooms." "Shit! You rubbed one out during practice yesterday didn't you? When you said you had to take a shit real bad!" Ollie blushed, but grinned. "Yep." He fished a couple of Molsons out of their dorm fridge and handed his buddy one. "A fuckin' ninja, that's me." He stared fascinated as Andy grabbed his: he'd never really noticed how big and strong the pitcher's hands were. Really masculine. Andy interrupted his thoughts. "Well you'd better be. The guys catch you spankin' it during practice, you'll never live it down." "Yeah I know, but..." Ollie looked sideways and gave a half-guilty shrug, "you know. Sometimes you just gotta let off a little steam. And lately it's like--I dunno, like all of a sudden it's like _right _fuckin' _now! You know?" Andy grinned and shook his head in agreement. "Yeah, I hear you. And at these random times too, like sitting in the dugout--" "I know, right? Nothing sexier than a ball field." He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, no kidding. Or a couple of days ago, when we crammed into coach's office for that team meeting?" "Holy shit, yeah, me too! I was jammed in standing right behind Tyler, and I was like `thank God I'm wearing a cup to keep the sausage contained.'" Andy waved his hands animatedly. "No shit. In. A. Propriate." He looked down at his crotch and jabbed his finger at it. "Knock it off, dick." "Yeah, seriously." Ollie nodded with enthusiasm and relief at someone to talk to. "It's like mine is on a hair trigger these days." "Yeah, that's it, exactly. Like, I'm getting morning wood like nobody's business--" "Me too!! I was seriously ready to rub one out right then and there this morning until you went and woke up on me!" "I thought you were asleep!" Andy looked surprised. "No way, I was faking it. I thought you'd never head to the showers." The lean blond laughed. "I got tired of waiting for you to get your ass up so I could get some alone time, so I finally went down the hall to clog the drains." He started laughing again at the thought of the stupid dance they'd been doing, and Ollie joined in. That just made him laugh harder, and for no good reason the two of them were suddenly howling. Finally they wound down. Ollie wiped the tears from his cheeks and caught his breath. "Oh my God. I don't know why that was so funny. We are so fuckin' wasted!" Andy let out another half laugh. "It's just so stupid. I mean, come on. We both do it, we both know we do it, but it's like some spy movie." Ollie chuckled. "Goldwanker." "Yeah. So..." Ollie cocked a brow. "So?... We just...let it all hang out?" "Well no, not that. I mean, I see your dick enough in the locker room and around here, I don't need to see it in action." Andy licked his lips briefly. "But you know, maybe we should just say something instead of sneaking around." Ollie nodded. "Yeah, that'd be a lot easier. Maybe cover for each other?..." Andy cocked a grin. "You planning on spankin' it during rehab tomorrow?" Ollie snorted. "No. I mean, I'm not planning on it. But, you know, you never know." "Okay, cool. I'll scratch your balls, you scratch mine, right?" Ollie laughed and gave his friend a high five, then finished his beer. "Thanks bro. All right, I'm wrecked. Time to crash." Andy nodded muzzily and tossed his own back. "I hear ya." The two guys stripped to their boxers and turned out the lights, both of them snoring within minutes. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jeremy sighed and rocked his hips as his eyes darted in REM sleep. "Mmmhhmmm....nh...kthat, ynn..." he mumbled, "...ass...." His 7 ½'" cock was fully erect in his boxer briefs, and a wet spot had appeared at the tip of the clearly outlined cut head. "Uh huh....oooohh," he whined, "...fckn ti...." His left hand grabbed his hard on, and he moaned as he squeezed it. "Aaaahhh...." He started rocking his hips, and a minute later warm semen flooded his crotch, soaking his underwear and dark pubes, and leaving a slick coating on his palm. "...hot," he sighed, then rolled onto his side and settled into a deeper sleep. The next morning he woke up bright and early, feeling great. His back was feeling better too from when he'd pulled it bad the other week, enough that the discovery of cold jizz all over his groin and smeared on his sheets didn't even bother him. Huh, he thought. This was the third night this week he'd had a wet dream; that hadn't happened since he was a teenager, and never that much. Especially once he'd learned to take care of himself. But he'd rubbed one out just yesterday afternoon, and the morning before that in the shower. Damn, he was turning into one horny dude--not bad for a guy who was about to hit 30. He tried to remember what had gotten him off, but all he could come up with was a vague memory of fucking someone, and...a bench? The...dugout? And...someone had been there. Tyler maybe?...nah, couldn't be. Well it was weird, but whatever. He was just happy to be able to sit up without his lower back spasming, and the numbness along his right leg seemed to be better too. Maybe that stuff he'd gotten from Carlos really was working--good thing there'd been an extra stick in the package he'd gotten. He'd have to ask the guys--quietly--how they were doing. If they were recovering as fast in less than two weeks as he was, he might just have his star performers back in action in time to save the season. Whistling a bit he got up--carefully, his back was still only 80%--and headed to the shower. He could clean his sheets after he finished working up a plan for Monday's training session. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Tyler was awkwardly getting out of his gym shorts, trying to slide them and his sweaty underwear over his leg brace, when Coach strolled by. Not having a leg brace to deal with the rest of the team was on their way out, and they were the only two in that corner of the locker room. Cursing the tight briefs, he sat down bare-ass naked on the bench and started to work them down his leg. "Looked like your rehab exercises were doin' pretty good today Ty. Your knee seems like it's on the mend, huh?" "Yeah." Tyler's boyish face screwed up in concentration as he tried to figure out how he'd gotten so tangled up around the knee joint. "Crap." He swiped his wavy brown hair out of his eyes in frustration. Jeremy watched him for a minute. "Need a hand there?" Tyler threw up his hands. "Shit, sure. Might as well. I knew I shoulda worn regular boxers!" Jeremy's green eyes crinkled. "You hadn't figured that out by now?" "Yeah, but they were my only clean ones left. They went on okay, but going down..." He threw up his hands again. "Lemme try." Jeremy knelt between Tyler's outstretched legs, tugging the fabric this way and that. "Shit, Ty, you got 'em wrapped up in that joint good." He twisted around, hissing in frustration as he tried to figure it out. The sudden puff of warm air on his thigh hit Tyler like an electric shock. He was suddenly aware that he had a very fit guy between his legs, kneeling in front of his crotch, and close enough for Tyler to smell his warm masculine scent. Shampoo and a little sweat, and something else. His heart gave a thump as he felt the blood rush to his face at the same time more of it headed lower down. "Uhh..." he said weakly, and then Coach got his damn shorts off. Thank God. Thank God, Jeremy thought. What had gotten into him? He'd just wanted to help the poor guy out, really, but for some reason he planted himself down on the floor like he was gonna.... And at first he was just working on the gym shorts, but he quickly realized Tyler's trimmed dark brown bush was practically in his face, perfect framed between those well-muscled thighs. He had a couple of nice hangers under there roo, tucked in behind a cut dick that looked like it had some nice heft to it. And...it looked like it was a little thicker than it needed to be too. Jeremy sucked in his breath at the thought of Tyler boning up--that would be awkward as hell--and caught a whiff of his fresh jock scent, like his own but different. And good, it really smelled good. Jeremy caught himself leaning in a bit to catch more of it, and then suddenly realized what he was doing. Shit. He leaned back and gave a frantic last tug, and the shorts came down. Thank God. "Great!" Tyler said, a bit frantically. "Great!" He grabbed his towel and covered his crotch, then struggled to arrange it before he stood up. Oh shit oh shit oh shit, he thought, I am gonna bone up in front of Coach Jeremy! Just the thought helped him rein it in a bit. He looked like an idiot trying to stand on one leg while he wrapped the towel around his waist, and then get his crutches, but he didn't care. At least his dick wasn't trying to tent up anymore. And Coach had backed off while he fucked around with the towel, not leaning in close like... "Okay, all set! Gonna hit the shower! Sure am glad they have that handicapped stall here--way better than the dorm! Bye!" Jesus Christ, what was wrong with him?! He forced himself to shut up and hobbled off on his crutches, face flaming. At least Coach didn't follow him back to the showers. "Okay, take it easy Tyler. See ya!" Jesus Christ, what was wrong with him?! Jeremy thought. He'd never even thought about hitting on a student before, and now here he was, practically shoving his face in Tyler's crotch. And the catcher must've noticed something too, the way he jumped up to get away. Thank God he'd bolted for the showers: Jeremy couldn't've stayed kneeling much longer without it looking weird, but he doubted he could've hidden his hard on if he'd stood up right then. Cripes, he could've pounded nails right then, never mind ass--pussy, that is. Shaking his head, he turned around and headed home. If any of the remaining guys noticed he was a little rushed on the way out they didn't say anything. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . It was three days before Tyler could bring himself to shower in the locker room again. He was nervous as hell he'd have another encounter with Coach again, but this time without keeping his dick under control. It was bad enough he'd actually had a dream about it one night, with the Twins and some of the other guys watching as he tried to cover up his hard-on. As much as he squirmed, every time he turned away he ended up facing another one--somehow the team was dozens of guys now--and they were all staring and laughing. And then Coach was suddenly sucking his dick somehow, and some of the guys were pointing at him and shouting, but it felt soooo damn good he couldn't stop even while the guys closed in and someone grabbed his ass.... He woke up with a jerk just as he came in his boxers; without even thinking he grabbed his shaft through the fabric and finished himself off. The orgasm was intense, and he whimpered as he gave his balls a good squeeze to milk 'em dry. The dream was still strong in his mind, and it took him a few seconds to orient himself before he realized it was morning and he was alone in his dorm room instead of the locker room. He breathed a sigh of relief. Brian was a cool guy, not at all uptight like Tyler had thought a Mormon would be, but shooting a load in front of him was absolutely a violation of the roommate code. And Katie was coming up this weekend for their three-year anniversary; he was definitely going to need the room, and that meant not pissing his roommate off. He grimaced as he struggled to get the boxers over his leg brace, then wiped himself off. God what a pain in the ass that thing was! His mood soured further as he imagined the struggle dealing with it in the dorm shower yet again. And then he had a brainstorm: he rooted around in his drawer until he found a clean jock. The straps were a cinch to work over the brace--waaay easier. And shit, he'd just dropped a load; his dick would behave for at least another couple of days. Well, maybe less: he'd been a lot hornier lately, once a day for the last week or so, and more than that yesterday. But still, he had PT in a few hours and then he'd be right at the athletic center; he could shower in the handicapped stall right there. He tossed another jock in his backpack for after his workout. Done and done. Feeling better he tucked his cummy underwear down in the bottom of his laundry pile where it wouldn't be obvious. Brian wouldn't notice--and even if he did, Tyler was pretty sure the blond jock had been beating it on a regular basis himself. Tyler quickly suppressed a vision of his roomie's muscular body squirming as he stroked his dick. He had a business class to get to, and he was going to be late. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . "Hey Tyler, how's it going?" Tyler jumped at the sound of Coach's voice, knocking over one of his crutches. "Oh! Hey Coach. Shit, you startled me." Tyler had been so focused on stowing his clothes in the locker while he stripped down for the shower, he hadn't even heard the older guy come in. "How you doin'?" "Good, good." Coach's wavy light brown hair was a little mussed, like he'd just combed it out with his fingers, and it hung down a little over his green eyes in a way that made him look almost young enough to be on the team. He flashed a white smile, and Tyler was suddenly aware that he was standing there in nothing but a jock strap. Tyler had just taken his glasses off, so he couldn't be 100% sure, but it seemed like those eyes flashed to it for just a second. "You good? How's the knee?" His gaze flicked down again so briefly Tyler might've imagined it. Was his jock nasty or something? "Uh, good, real good." Tyler used the exercise of picking up his crutch to sneak a peak at himself, and he was...oh. The jock wasn't real big, and even though he'd manscaped some to prep for the weekend, there was a tuft of pubes peeking out. Well, Coach had seen them all naked in the locker room plenty of times already, so no big deal. But his face still colored. "The, uh, PT guy says I'm making really good progress. Thinks I can ditch the crutches maybe next week. Said I'm really coming along fast." Never seen anyone do so well, is what he'd actually said, but close enough. "That's awesome man, great! I know you'll still miss the early part of the season, but we'd love to have you back." Coach's face lit up so much Tyler couldn't help feeling happy for the guy. "I mean Eric's doing great, but I hate to see any of my guys missing out." Suddenly he leaned in a bit and lowered his voice. "You still, uh, using the stuff I gave you?" So that's what this was about.... "Yep, sure am. Every day," he nodded. Twice sometimes actually: that was a bit more than Coach had said, but it wasn't any different than popping a couple extra ibuprofen when his knees were sore. And it sure seemed to be working. "Outstanding!" Coach leaned back a bit, then put a warm hand on Tyler's shoulder and smiled broadly. "That's great, really great. Keep doing what they tell you and we'll have you back in time for that Idaho double-header." "No doubt!" That'd seemed impossible a couple of weeks ago, but after today's checkup, well, who knew? Tyler couldn't resist his own grin of anticipation as he shared a look with his coach. Damn, those were some really green eyes... There was a weird little pause, hardly anything really, and then Coach took his hand off Tyler's shoulder and backed up. "Welp, I'll let you hit the shower." He gestured down at Tyler's groin. "I see you picked something a little easier to get out of." "Yeah, I can solo these off a lot better," Tyler said, and turned around to do just that. He'd gotten a lot better with the brace, and it was no problem to bend over one-legged and pick the used jock up off the floor and toss it in his locker. He wrapped a towel around his waist. "Okay, off to clean up before class. See ya, Coach!" He turned to give a half-wave as he hobbled off to the showers. God, if he could at least ditch the crutches he could probably shower back in the dorm. He'd still have to wear the damn brace so he didn't re-injure the knee, but at least he could maneuver well enough he wouldn't need the hand rails. Or at least, he was willing to chance it. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ...And no more slipping on icy patches, he thought as he gimped home. The new dorms were nicer, but it was a longer, colder trip than he'd realized when he'd picked the room, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he entered the warm room. No one was in the common area their three bedrooms shared, and Brian wasn't in their room either; it looked like everyone was at dinner or studying for midterms. He sighed: he had his own coming up, and as soon as he dropped off his gym bag he was going to have to do some studying of his own, especially for that Intro to Real Estate Law class he'd signed up for. At least the library was close and had a coffee shop nearby, he thought as he unpacked his sweaty gym gear and tossed it in the direction of his laundry basket. The smell of fresh sweat brought back memories of the locker room, and he felt a stirring in his pants. He knew he should be saving up for Katie's visit in two days, but damn--there was no way he could hold out that long. Hell, he was up to two-a-days now, sometimes three--he'd been on a real streak lately. Especially if he'd been working out in the gym or visiting with the guys. He felt like a creepster sneaking a peak at some of them, but lately he couldn't help himself. Tall Kelly, with that lean build and beard, with a bit of chest hair, or the Twins...either one of them. Ollie was shorter, about the same as Tyler's 5' 10", with that olive skin and a little bit of chest hair, while blond Andy had the classic lanky pitcher's build with blond fur on his legs and forearms. They were totally different looking, but there was something about both of them...he rubbed his cock absently, picturing them as they walked around in towels. Or Coach Jeremy...shit...Taylor had only ever seen him fully clothed, but he was a total daddy. And he had a good bod under there too, the catcher could tell. Tylor had kind of noticed when the new coach had shown up--he was a sucker for green eyes (like Katie's)--but it'd been harder and harder to stop ogling the guy lately. Like today, he thought as he finished emptying his gear out: he was lucky he hadn't chubbed up in front of the guy (he'd had to take a cold shower though). But Coach had been close enough for Tylor to catch a whiff of that masculine scent he had, clean and strong and mixed with the warm wool of his sweater. He gave himself a good squeeze, grunting as he flexed his hardon against the grip. He'd been standing there in that skimpy jock like an ass, but now the thought of it made him horny, not embarrassed. Speaking of which...where was it? He looked down in his laundry pile, but it obviously wasn't there. And it wasn't in his pack. So what?...he'd taken it off, desperate to get away from Coach before that tingle he'd been feeling turned into a stiffy...he'd hucked it into his locker...grabbed his towel...and he knew he'd emptied his locker out...had someone taken it? But why?... "Oh shiiiit..." he breathed. It couldn't be...but he was rock-hard just thinking about it. Those looks...he hadn't been imagining it. He popped the buttons on his jeans, remembering how Coach Jeremy had been kneeling right in his crotch helping him change the other day, but as he wrapped his hand around his shaft his imagination took over, and it was his coach's warm mouth around his dick instead of his own hand. "Ahuuhh...." He started stroking, too horny to waste time looking for lotion. Plus, he had plenty of precum to slick himself up. "Suck me coach...suck me," he whispered. God, he was already so close! What he wouldn't give right now for the real thing, the feel of a warm tongue swirling over his cock head, or those strong hands pressing his thighs apart so the buff 29 year old could suck on his balls, or even.... "Yes, oh God yes!" he gasped as his left hand slid along his spine and into the crack of his ass, down through the wiry brown hairs until his middle finger pressed against his hole. He loosened his grip on his penis to keep from coming too soon, as his imagination spun an image of him up against the locker, ass pushed out like now, but it wasn't Coach's finger teasing his ass.... "Fuck me Coach," he groaned, and slid in as deep as he could manage. He'd only tried this a couple of times before, but it hadn't been as hot as this. "Deeper," he whined as he worked his finger in. As he wiggled it he felt jolts of pleasure coming from his ring as it stretched, and then he hit an angle that was even better, and "fuck me!" was all he had time to gasp before he was blowing his load, shaking and gasping as jet after jet of watery cum shot out. He could feel his legs trembling, but he couldn't stop working his ass and cock together to keep the orgasm going. His eyes fluttered. "Yeaaaaahhnnggod!" Jizz was dripping down his cock now, making it slick and even more sensitive; he could feel his hole twitch as he bucked into his hand. If only it were the real thing, he thought. On some level that'd always been on his mind, but now that he had a shot at a real dick..."Fuck," he whispered shakily. He gave his head one final squeeze, and shuddered as the last fat drops of semen leaked onto the floor. He watched them drop, still dazed from his orgasm, until suddenly he came to his senses and realized his roommate (his very hot roommate, a part of him whispered) could be back any minute. Tyler hastily wiped himself off on his dirty gym clothes, then tossed them under a sweatshirt in the laundry basket. There. He swept the room one last time to check for any incriminating globs; satisfied, he grabbed his laptop and headed off to the library. He really did have to study, and now that he'd rubbed one out he felt back to normal, like a fever had broken. Good thing too: he had a girlfriend to entertain this weekend, and the last thing he needed was a distraction. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . "So is Tyler gay?" "What?" It was just the two of them in the common room, but Brian had been watching the car chase going on in "xXx" and hadn't really heard Cade's question. "I mean, not that it's a big deal or anything," his lanky suite mate continued, "but sometimes I just get that vibe, you know? I figure you room with him, so...." The stocky blond cocked an eyebrow at the dark-haired CS major. Cade was basically a good guy, but he didn't always have the best social skills. Or maybe Brian was just being kind of a hick again: not that he was in the big city here at all, but he hadn't realized how sheltered his small-town Utah upbringing was until he'd been surrounded by a bunch of non-LDS folks. Not that there wasn't some drinking, drugs, and sex in high school, but there sure was a lot more of it here, and definitely a lot more talking about it. When the elders had said his stay here would count as his mission time he thought it was a joke, and it kind of was, but at the same time college here was definitely a bit of a foreign country. He'd gotten pretty well adjusted in the last year and half, but then he'd get a comment out of the blue like this and get caught flat-footed. "You know I'm gonna be sleeping on this couch all weekend, right?" Katie wasn't in town too often, and Tyler had said that he didn't need to sleep in the common room, but Brian just felt weird sacking out right next to another couple. Especially if they were doing it. He had a feeling his being there might not stop his roommate from fooling around, and that was just way too weird to think about. He flushed at the thought of Tyler's smooth ass bouncing up and down as he lay on top of Katie; it seemed familiar, like a fragment of a dream he couldn't really remember. Weird.... "Yeah, I know. I mean, it's not like his girlfriend isn't real or anything. It's just sometimes I kinda get this vibe like he's checking us out a little or something. And he's kinda got that 'gay face,' y'know?" Brian shrugged; he didn't know. "If you say so." "Well, whatever. No biggie." Cade stood up. "Mind if I grab one of your sodas before I head out?" The guys had teased him at first about not drinking or even having caffeine, but it was all in good fun and Brian appreciated the fact that they didn't act strange around him just because he was Mormon. He definitely got some weird questions from random people, mostly about whether he did the underwear thing (just boxer briefs, thanks), but his suite mates were cool. "Sure, go for it." "Thanks man." Cade grabbed a LaCroix from the minifridge and took off, leaving Brian to watch the last 20 minutes of the movie and ponder the thought that his roommate might be checking him out. He was still thinking about it when he walked back into the dim dorm room after the movie ended. He'd had plenty of girls flirt with him, and he'd been seriously tempted a few times to forget about saving himself for marriage, but he'd never had a guy come on to him. Not that Tyler had. But what if he did? Brian thought as he turned on his desk light. He'd say no, obviously--but nicely. Tyler was a good-looking guy: he worked out a lot, even with his leg brace holding him back, he had a good boyish face but with a little patch of brown chest hair and a bit of a treasure trail that said he was grown up. It'd be a compliment really: no thank you, but thanks for thinking of me. Obviously Tyler wasn't...but he sure had been thinking of *someone a couple of days ago. Brian had woken up before his alarm had gone off--like the rest of his family he was an early bird--to the sound of rhythmic rustling coming from the bunk below him. It hadn't taken long to figure out what Tyler was up to, and Brian hadn't dared move while his roomie was jerking off: there was no way he wanted to embarrass them both. So he'd laid there hearing the rustling sheets, the faint squishing noises of lotion-coated skin sliding against skin, and Tyler's deep breathing. Brian had felt his own unit stiffening in sympathy--he might be a virgin, but there was a limit to how far he was going to take his vow of abstinence, and it definitely did *not include masturbating. Which he'd been doing a lot of lately. But he'd always been pretty quick about it: five minutes, ten tops and he was wiping himself off. Tyler, on the other hand.... Brian had listened in growing frustration as his roommate kept wanking away in the dim pre-dawn light. Occasionally his breath would catch, or he'd even make the faintest noise deep in his throat, and Brian would be sure that was it. But then he'd hear the blankets moving again, just slower, and he'd realized the catcher was working to make it last. Which had really started to get to him, because he couldn't go back to sleep with that going on a few feet below him, and all those noises had made him really want to do the same thing. His dick had gotten fully hard pretty quickly, and it had only taken a couple of minutes before the temptation to slide his hands under his waistband had been too much to resist. He'd slid his fingers and then the palm of his hand slowly over his circumcised head, briefly surprised at how wet it had become, then shivered as the friction around the helmet ridge sent those familiar sensations through him. He hadn't dared wrap his hand around the shaft: once he did he knew he'd be too horny to stop, and Tyler would hear him for sure. So he'd settled for running his palm slowly over the head, slicker and slicker with each passing minute, letting his fingers press into his cropped bush at the base of his shaft or playing with his smooth balls as they slowly pulled up. It felt too good not to press his hips against his hand, but he'd done it slowly enough the bed didn't creak, and anyway he doubted Tyler was paying much attention to anything else at that point. At long last Tyler reached the point of no return, a few quick rustling sounds and a strangled whimper letting Brian know he'd finally gotten off. The stocky blond had breathed a prayer of relief when he heard the distinctive noise of Kleenex being pulled from the box. Only a couple of minutes later the alarm had gone off, at which point both of them made noises as though they were just getting up. Brian had faked being half-awake and just mumbled an indistinct "g'morning" to Tyler while he waited for his roommate to throw on his sweats and head to the bathroom, but he'd stayed hard and toyed with himself the whole time. For once he was thrilled to have the top bunk, where his under-the-sheets movements were practically invisible, as long as he was careful. Brian had waited for a twenty count after Tyler had left, to make sure he wasn't going to suddenly come back, then had leapt down to grab the still-open bottle of lotion the catcher had left on the night stand. He'd been trembling as he'd squirted a glob into his right palm, and his shaft was flushed a deeper pink than it'd ever been. How had Tyler managed to last so long? he'd thought. The moment his grip closed on the hot flesh he'd groaned uncontrollably, and his legs had gone weak. "Oh Jesus," he panted weakly, and collapsed to sit on the edge of Tyler's bunk. The faint smell of lotion and cum had hit him and he'd started stroking frantically, too eager to get off to let thoughts of Tyler's activities bother him. In fact, he'd been unable to get the memory out of his head, and so instead of his usual fantasies a half-remembered, half-imagined picture of the catcher's muscular body bucking under the blankets was what'd run through his brain as he'd come. And come hard, too: if he hadn't thought to block his piss hole with his left hand he would've left juice all over the place. As it was his load had quickly overflowed his fingers, dripping onto his thigh and trickling down his balls before he'd regained enough self-control to grab some more of those Kleenex. As he'd cleaned up he'd thought that might've been the biggest load he'd ever dropped, by far. Maybe Tyler had been onto something with those long drawn-out sessions of his. It'd definitely taught him some amazing self-control: he'd been a lot quieter than Brian ever was. It'd occurred to him then that Tyler had probably done this a lot more than once, and Brian had probably just slept through it. The thought had made him feel weird, somehow. He had that same weird feeling deep in his belly now. At first he couldn't understand why: after he'd gotten off like that the other day his head had cleared, and he'd cleaned himself up like usual without a second thought. He'd beaten off a couple of times since then, sure, but he hadn't caught Tyler at it again, even though he'd waken up before the alarm the last three mornings running. So why was he feeling flushed? He took a deep breath to clear his head, and that's when he noticed the unmistakable scent of jizz. And not his: he'd rubbed one out in the shower that morning. Tyler must've tossed some of those tissues under his bed or something instead of getting rid of them. That picture of Tyler jerking off under the covers flashed through his mind again, and Brian could feel himself getting hard. There was no way he could study in here with the catcher's scent distracting him like this, he thought, and so he got down on his knees to look for the damn tissues and get rid of them. If Tyler said something, he'd just tell him to clean up after himself next time. There were no tissues visible when he got down on his knees and looked, but the scent was stronger down near the foot of the bed. He breathed in deeply, trying to locate it, and felt a wave of arousal wash over him. It wasn't just the scent of semen, there was something more, something that made him imagine Tyler naked and hard, and made his own cock inflate in turn. He unbuckled his jeans so he could slide a hand down his pants as he walked on his knees towards the source. His pants slid down over his ass, but he didn't care just then: that smell was making him hard as a rock, and squeezing himself made the scent even more appealing. God, what was it?! Tyler's laundry basket--yeah, there! He grabbed a handful of clothes off the top and pushed them into his face, barely pausing to think what would happen if someone came in. He didn't care though: the smell of fresh jock sweat was driving him nuts. With each breath he could imagine exploring the catcher's body underneath him: burying his nose in his armpits, tonguing them...Brian grunted with need as he slid his briefs down so he could stroke himself, not even caring that he didn't have any lube. He kept his strokes light, grazing the drippy head and shaft as he imagined the taste of his roommate's skin. When he mashed the cloth into his nostrils the scent of cum intensified; he instinctively took a deep breath. He let go of his dick briefly, and with shaking hands explored the clothing until he found his prize: a tee shirt with a tell-tale streak on it, and a sock that was liberally coated with Tyler's juice. Pressing the latter into his face, he groaned as he smeared the cold goo over his chin and lips. He tightened his grip and began stroking in earnest now that he'd found his prize; he was leaking enough now to provide his own lube. In his imagination he'd buried his face in Tyler's crotch fur, imagining the scent in the sock was coming from his roomie's leaking dick. From there it was a short step to imagine he was suckling it from the source, and he moaned again as he used two fingers to shove the stickiest bits of fabric between his lips. His cock head swelled as the taste hit him, and he whimpered as he stroked his 6" furiously. It didn't matter that this sample was cold, or that the fabric felt nothing like flesh against his tongue: in his mind he was swallowing Tyler as far as he could, burying his nose in his crotch as the catcher pumped his shaft into Brian's hungry mouth. "Mmm! Mmmmm!!" he couldn't stop the hungry noises he was making, or the pumping of his hips, any more than he could've stopped stroking himself. All he could do was go with it, eyes squeezed shut as he masturbated, faster and faster, until finally he let loose. He felt the bolt rising up from his balls, and with a strangled yell he mashed the jock's clothes even tighter against his face, and came. And came. And came. His whole body was shaking with pleasure as he let loose, and even with his eyes squeezed shut he could tell he was dropping a huge load. He didn't care where he was shooting; it just felt so hot to stroke his dick while his lungs filled with Tyler's scent. Eventually he finished of course, and as the pleasure wore off he came to his senses. He suddenly realized he was kneeling over his roommate's laundry basket, wet dick in hand, with a cum-soaked tee shirt jammed in his mouth. "Oh man," he mumbled, and pulled it out. What the heck had he been thinking? He knew he'd gotten off good, but the memory of how hot it had been seemed more like a dream now. He dropped the soggy cloth: even though the taste still lingered on his tongue it no longer fascinated him like it had a minute ago. And now he realized he needed to clean up fast before anyone came by; without thinking he wiped his fingers and dick off on the tee. Well, at least Tyler probably wouldn't notice some extra there. And it looked like the rest of his load had landed on the laundry too. Brian quickly pulled everything together with the cummy items buried, and tried to put the clothes back on top the way he'd seen them. Then he yanked up his pants and stood there for a minute, still trying to process what'd just gotten into him. Shaking his head he decided to head over to the student union and see if his friends were there: he needed some other people around to clear his mind. "What was I thinking?" he muttered as he headed out the door. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . What was he thinking? Jeremy thought as he lay in bed. Seriously, this was ridiculous. He'd had a good weekend, and had just finished up by watching the Sunday night football game over at Tony's house. There'd been a bunch of people there, including a cute gal from the Financial Aid office that Tony had said he should meet. Between the move, the upcoming divorce, and all the job stress he hadn't even had a coffee date in months, let alone gotten laid. And Heather seemed fun and into him: they'd hung out into the kitchen for a while, and he was getting good signals. But then gradually something changed, and he could tell he was being shunted into the friend zone. It wasn't obvious, and he couldn't think of anything he'd said, but she'd gone from moving in closer and touching his arm to backing away. She'd still laughed at his jokes, but it'd stopped being a flirty laugh. He was baffled: he'd dated enough to know when he was probably going to close the deal, but when he tried a last "we should get lunch" all he got was a "Yeah, great, I'll check my calendar!" Which meant "no thanks." To be honest, he maybe hadn't been trying his hardest. The last week or so he kept finding himself thinking about some of the guys on the team, Andy or Ollie, or Kevin maybe. But especially Tyler. And then Thursday he'd pulled that stupid, stupid stunt with Tyler's jock--if the kid said anything to anyone Jeremy was going to be so royally fucked. He could probably lie enough to avoid disciplinary action, but given his recent history (and it was just a Google away for anyone who didn't already know about Arizona) the cloud of suspicion would be enough to tank his career. But he hadn't been able to stop himself: seeing Tyler standing there in that jock had sent a bolt to his dick, and when he'd put his hand on the catcher's shoulder he'd barely stopped himself from doing--well, something. He'd gotten this weird vibe that Tyler might've been into it too, but that was crazy: the guy had a girlfriend, and he seemed pretty into her. So when Jeremy had gotten home he'd just tossed the jock onto his clothes pile, with a plan to launder it and then return it with the story that he'd just found it there and didn't know who it belonged to. Or something like that. But it wouldn't leave his mind, and when he took care of his morning wood both Friday and Saturday his fantasies kept getting interrupted by images of the catcher in that jock. And then this morning he'd woken up from a very wet dream in which Tyler hadn't been in the jock at all, and the load in Jeremy's pajama pants had been in Tyler's ass. He should've been more freaked out, he'd thought as he'd showered and shaved: by the time he was putting the special "deodorant" on he was already chubbing up a little, never mind he'd just dropped a load. He'd vaguely wondered if they were related, but there was no way a basic testosterone/steroid/mild HGH mix would do that--hell, he hadn't even gotten any bacne from this stuff. The guys in Arizona had juiced a lot more than the little topical gel he was using without any serious side effects (he did know what he was doing after all). And anyway, whatever horniness he'd been feeling was more than made up for by the extra energy boost he got: it wasn't just that his back had gotten better in record time, but he had more stamina to get through the day. He could manage his dick, but without some chemical help he'd never been able to do Ron's job plus his own. At least the poor guy was starting to recover: Linda had said his rehab was coming along well, and he might even be back to coaching a little in another month or so. Jeremy had prayed that was the case. But for now, he was just keeping his head above water, and if he didn't want to drop from exhaustion and stress he was going to keep using this stuff until Ron got back. Even if the side effects were a little uncomfortable, he thought as he shifted in bed. If only Heather hadn't suddenly cooled off on him, he could've gotten his rocks off like he needed; that would've settled him down. But instead he was alone in bed, looking at another long day tomorrow, at the start of another long week, and all he had was his right hand. He gave himself an experimental tug through his boxers, just to assess the situation, and...yep, he was ready to go. Well, not quite yet, but he knew from the way his junk had tingled at that quick squeeze that he'd harden up in a hurry if he kept at it. And why not? he thought as he adjusted his grip. God knew he needed the stress relief. He slid his left hand up under his tee shirt, rubbing the fur over his abs before sliding across his pecs. He'd never really noticed his chest hair, but now that he thought about it he kind of liked the way it felt under his palm. He rolled his right nipple between his fingers, then gave himself another good squeeze down below. "Yeah, that's it," he muttered. He could feel his dick swelling fast and he encouraged it with a few of the the slow tugs he liked, helped along with little pinches on his nip. He vaguely thought about fantasizing about Heather, or at least some chick, but for the moment he was just getting off on the feel of his body under his hand. He was completely hard now, so he let go of himself to slide his right hand under his waistband, fingers pressing into his pubes before sliding lower to tug on his lightly-furred balls. "Oh yeah..." The whisper was a little louder this time...he could feel how full his nuts were, the thought turning him on more. He could've just jerked it like that, which is what he usually did, but that felt too...confining somehow. He could feel himself getting good and worked up, and he didn't want to rub one out under the sheets like a guilty teenager this time: he was going to enjoy this, damnit. He let go of his dick long enough to slide his tee shirt off, then kicked off his underwear to lie on top of the sheets. The room was a little cool, but it was kind of a turn-on lying there naked, even alone. There was enough outside light for him to see his body pretty clearly, and it didn't look bad, he thought. His belly was still flat, and he'd kept the gym work going: his pecs were good and firm under his hands, and his legs were solid too. Just enough fur to look like a man, but not a wookie. And his cock of course, standing up 7" from its base of dark brown pubes--he'd always been proud of being at least a bit above average. He slid his right palm down his belly and along its length, pushing it down towards his feet, and arched his back as the friction against the ridge sent a little shiver up into his gut. "Oh yeah," he grinned to himself, this was gonna be fun. The feel of a hard, warm shaft under his hand was just so damn good. He could already feel the pre-cum smearing over his skin, and he ran his palm up and down a few times, enjoying the sensation of liquid streaking his hand. He paused to run a fingertip around the piss slit--there was plenty of juice to get the whole head wet, and man did it feel nice to trace around the ridge. More than one woman had enjoyed the feeling of that fat head rubbing them the right way, and he'd taken some pride in learning how to use it. He gripped the base of his shaft in his left hand and studied it a bit more, half-remembering. His cock really did look good, he thought. The fat mushroom was gleaming faintly from the pre-cum he'd smeared over it, and he thought he could even see another bead forming on the tip. Sure enough his fingertip found fresh liquid there, and he shivered again as he explored the shape of his glans with it. He'd never really thought about it before, but it had such a fascinating shape and feel, like nothing else really. Did other guys really notice this sort of thing about their dicks? Did they think about how good a dick felt in your hand when it was hard? Because it was really hot, when you thought about it: the feel of your blood-hot slick shaft under your hands, and how good it felt to slide your palm over the helmet head, with that distinctive ridge.... Out of nowhere the image of Tyler's full jock sprang into his mind, with the outline of its own ridged bulge pressing against the off-white fabric. The fact that he'd been standing on crutches with that stupid boot on did nothing to distract from the way his pouch had bulged out, distorting it enough for the kid's pubes to peek over the top a little. Not enough to be obvious, but...Jeremy had had to force himself not to stare. Did the catcher have no idea how much soft meat he was packing down there? Or--Jeremy's breath hitched as he thought about it--had Tyler really been all that soft? He sucked in his breath as his cock flexed and he instinctively gave it an extra-good squeeze. God, what if his star catcher had been boning up right there in front of him? "Oh shiiit," Jeremy whispered; his hips rocked as he tugged his meat. He'd tried to avoid thinking about it, but now he couldn't stop the pictures in his head. That thick shaft pressing against the rough cotton..."unhhh"...and the the way it lay there when Jeremy had helped Tyler get those gum shorts off...he might still be a student, but he was all man where it counted...."God..." he whispered--his dick felt so good in his hand! And not just that...he could smell it a bit, all the precum leaking from his cock now that he was really getting into it. Tyler's had smelled like that, for the few seconds Jeremy had spent between his knees. "Fuck yeah..." in his mind Tyler's masculine scent merged with the thick shaft in the jock, only now his catcher's meat was barely contained. Jeremy gripped his pec hard, tugging his chest hairs as he ground his hand in to pinch his right nipple. His hard-on was deep pink, but he didn't notice: instead he was imagining Tyler's pouch lifting up as its contents swelled. There'd be a thick patch of furry darkness at the top, where the elastic pulled away from the junior's taught abs...Jeremy groaned. He could imagine it so well. The only way his fantasy would be hotter would be.... He sat up. Hell yeah. That'd been in the back of his mind all along, but now it was obvious. He jumped up, slick hard-on glistening in the faint light coming through the window, and rooted around in the back of his closet. It was right where he'd left it of course. When his hand closed around the rough fabric he grunted in satisfaction, then stood up and shoved the stale jock in his face; he was barely aware of the groan he let out as he swallowed the musk into his lungs. All he knew was that his dick was as hard as it had ever been, and felt better in his hand than it ever had. "Yeaaaahhh...," he sighed and fell back on the bed, breathing deeply. That's what he needed. As he rubbed the jock across his face he realized there were subtle differences. The pouch in front smelled like cock, and balls--but the straps had hints of something else. Down low...that's what Tyler's ass was like. The crack, and the taint, and the sweet center where the straps just grazed the hole. He didn't know how he knew but he could picture it, like a movie. If he took Tyler's shaft, with its wet head, into his mouth, it would taste like some combination of the fabric he was licking and the precum dribbling out of his own shaft. He paused to lick the first two fingers on his right hand...yeah, it'd be like that. And the muskier scents..."aaaahhh..." God he was so, so hard right now. Just the hint of what it would be like to bury his face in that ass...the jock hadn't hidden the fur trail leading from the spine down below...Jeremy could imagine the feel of coarse hairs under his tongue as he dove in, his catcher grunting as he pushed back, one hand guiding Jeremy's head lower as his pucker opened to his coach's warm tongue.... "AHHHFUCK!!" Jeremy gasped, and came. Waves of orgasm rushed over him as he breathed in and indistinct images of Tyler's crotch and ass rocketed through his brain. That hot fucking ass, he thought indistinctly. Although he'd never done anything like it, now he imagined his tongue deep in that musky warmth as Tyler's virgin ring spasmed in orgasm. At the same time he knew--_knew--how the jock's fresh jizz would taste as it spattered over his tongue: salty-sweet, with that same tang his own spunk had when he'd tried a little taste as a teenager. That thick shaft would pulse in his mouth like his own was about to--but not Tyler's cock, and not in a mouth, Jeremy realized. His mental viewpoint shifted, and now he was cumming into that tight jock's hole. It'd be his own cock spurting as Tyler's tight little ass rode it. Fuck yeah, his dick deep in that ass. In his mind's eye the catcher's bubble butt was pushing back into his groin as he pumped his hips; it wasn't his hand stroking him to orgasm, but Tyler's muscular ring milking the cum out of his cock. "Take it...TAKE IT!" he groaned into the jock strap as his orgasm peaked. Christ, this was like nothing else..."fuuck," he whimpered. The waves of pleasure were dying down, but they'd only left him wanting more, and not his own spooge on his belly. Lightheaded from his release, that was the one thing that stayed with him as his orgasm faded: he was hungry for the real thing. And he'd get it, he was sure.