Date: Thu, 12 Aug 2021 15:36:08 +0000
From: Ben Coolen <bencoolen@protonmail.com>
Subject: Swallowing My Pride, Chapter 2

Swallowing My Pride

By Ben Coolen

bencoolen@pm.me

Readers, please keep in mind that this story is 101% fictional. In real
life no man is better than the other, and nobody is entitled to treat other
people cruelly.

This story contains sexual acts (domination, submission, humiliation, oral
sex, masturbation) between young males. If you don't like it, or it is
illegal in your country, state or community, please stop reading it
immediately.

Please keep in mind that Nifty needs our donations to keep this great free
service running.

I have written several other stories. You can find them here:

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#bencoolen

Thanks to Naughty Bard for proofreading the text.

----------

I had dropped out from the race, and the moderator invited me to the podium
and handed me the microphone. It was time for my concession speech.

I looked at the audience in the fully packed auditorium. The front row was
filled with supporters of us three candidates.

I looked at mine: a bunch of nerds, wimps and losers who had counted on me
to defend their rights. I turned my gaze to the feminists: Jenna in her
round, thick-rimmed glasses and her supporters, proud young women ready to
stand up to claim what rightfully belonged to them. They were looking at me
with trust and respect.

I looked at Josh's gang: cocky, narrow-minded, homophobic dicks and a
hang-around team of adoring girls. Sitting in the middle of his henchmen
was Josh himself, hands clasped behind his head, dressed in an expensive
white hoodie and 400-bucks white-and-red Air Jordan's. He looked me in the
eye with a knowing smirk. Brett was sitting next to him, chewing gum, his
jeans-clad legs stretched out.

I looked at my supporters in the front row:

"Dear fellow students. I want to thank all of you who voted for me..." I
started.

I had made up my mind in the morning. I wouldn't let Josh use my lust to
submit to his dirty plot. I knew my reputation and pride were at stake. I
would be crazy to wash them down the drain. Fuck Josh!

"We all kinda knew this would be the outcome of the first ballot, didn't
we? And I' m sure we all knew which one of the two remaining candidates
would get my support, and now I can confirm with pride..."

--------

Chapter 2

I saw Brett moving in his seat. He spread his long legs and hooked his
thumbs inside the waistband of his tight jeans, stretching them down so
that I saw his underwear -- he was wearing blue AE trunks, similar to what
I had sniffed and jerked off to the previous night - and above the
waistband the trail of dark hair on his lower belly. Then he moved his
fingers down and brushed the bulging tube under the denim. The one I had
touched with my fingers. He saw me looking, smiled and gave me a little
nod.

I remembered how magnificent the outline of Brett's sex-organ looked inside
his tight underwear, the dizzying feeling of pressing my lips on it, the
way his crotch smelled. And I remembered Josh whispering into my ear before
he left me on that old locker room floor.

"Think carefully, Billy. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance."

Brett scratched his abdomen and I saw his fingers disappear into his jeans,
and I felt sweat moisten my forehead.

Some pointed coughs from the moderator woke me up from my trance.

I took a deep breath and cleared my throat before continuing. My voice
trembled as a said:

"I can confirm with pride that after a thorough deliberation I have decided
to endorse Josh Everton in the final round of ballots. I encourage all
those who voted for me to check Josh's name in the ballot. Thank you."

My words were drowned by the shouts and screams of Jenna's supporters and
my own and the roaring howls and whistles of Josh's posse.

To make things worse, Josh got up, leaped onto the stage and grabbed me in
a bear-hug. He grabbed my wrist and lifted our arms up together. I tried to
pull my arm down, but Josh kept it in his iron grip. He leaned closer to
yell into my ear over the general commotion:

"Well done, faggot!"

To make things worse, a group of his supporters leaped onto the stage too
and surrounded us, and I felt someone take hold of my free arm and lift it
up.

The jocks howled, girls screamed (some of them from delight, others from
disappointment) and I saw many students laughing and pointing at me with
their fingers.

"Proud of yourself now, Billy?" Someone shouted.

"Get him a t-shirt," Josh yelled to his supporters, and one of them sprang
up to get one. I felt someone pull my hoodie off, and to my horror, I felt
my PRIDE t-shirt being practically ripped off.

I was really conscious of my body, and standing on the stage shirtless in
front of the whole school was a nightmare-come-true. I hated the way my
body looked, a prominent pot belly in a skinny frame. I had tried working
out and eating healthy, but nothing had helped. No muscles appeared on my
skinny frame, and my belly still looked as unattractive as always. I had
been picked on by other boys since I entered junior high, and I always
tried to hide my frame under loose t-shirts and hoodies. And now I was
standing on the stage with my naked torso for everyone to see.

"Billy sure loves his beer," Augie, the school clown, shouted and everybody
but me found his pun extremely funny.

I was relieved when someone handed me a JOSH4PREZ t-shirt, but the slim-fit
shirt was too snug, and the audience roared in laughter as I tried to
squeeze myself into it. I had to give up and ask for a larger size.

"Go get him an XL," Josh announced into the microphone, and the audience
exulted.

One of the jocks squeezed the embarrassing spare tire around my waist.

"Better make it an XXL Josh," he quipped and everybody laughed.

I tried to smile too, but seeing the whole school, save the sour feminists,
laughing at me wasn't funny at all. I looked at Mr. Owens, the only adult
present, hoping he would interfere, but the young assistant coach was
laughing too; he said something to the boy sitting next to him, and then
they looked at me and laughed some more.

"Come on here, Billy, let's not keep the audience waiting," Josh said, and
I was pushed back to the podium. I had to stand next to his athletic frame
on the stage, shirtless, as he started to speak to the 200 or so students.

"Everybody's dying to hear why you decided to endorse yours truly,
Billy. Now let's hear it!" He said, handed me the microphone and pushed me
into the front of the stage.

"Come on Billy, show us some gay pride!" Augie quipped before I managed to
say anything.

"Well, guys... ehh. Well, yeah, in this post-pandemic world we need strong
and experienced leaders to guide us... through... umm through these
difficult times. And... and--- you know, as the captain of our Wildcats
Josh has shown us what a true leader he is. And, well... Josh is now
offering that leadership for, like... for the benefit of all students in
our school. I... I strongly believe this is an offer we just can't turn
down." I stuttered with a shaky voice and gave the mic back to Josh.

"Now, y'all who voted for Billy," he started, throwing his arm around my
shoulder, "I hear you. Nerds, wimps, gays, guys like our Billy. I know you
feel weak in a school dominated by us powerful jocks. I know you have
suffered from being picked on by some of us. But that will come to an end
when I'm elected president of the student council."

He raised my arm and squeezed my almost non-existent bicep.

"Even Billy will become strong!"

That raised snickers among the crowd.

"Yeah, sure!"

"You're laughing now, but I promise this: even guys like Billy will have
power and dignity in this school. No more nasty words, no more shoving
against the lockers, no more giving way to us jocks while you're lining up
in the cafeteria. No more making fun of you in the locker room or stealing
your girlfriends. Not on my watch! Losers, vote for me, and become
winners!"

When he finished, I was finally handed a new t-shirt, and I put it on. To
my relief it was large enough, but it was also so long that it hung almost
down to my knees.

"Nice skirt, Evans," someone shouted, and everybody laughed at me again.

The vice principal stormed in, alarmed by the commotion, and told everybody
to get out.

Josh's speech drew enthused cheers from the jocks and their female admirers
of course, icy stares from the feminists and confused looks from the
wimps. Josh would need to do much better in the coming campaign days to win
the election.

-------

Have you heard of the `Stockholm Syndrome'? This shit happened in
Stockholm, which is a city somewhere in Europe, if I remember right.

A bunch of bank robbers were holding some people hostages in the bank they
tried to rob. The hostages gradually grew fond of their captors, probably
because they were the only people they could talk to.

Well, that's what happened to me after I endorsed Josh.

Most of the wimps in our school loathed me after I let them down, many of
them wouldn't even say `hi' to me in the hallways. For the general student
population I had become sort of a freak, someone who was a legal target for
snide remarks and jokes.

That left me only the jocks. They kinda took me under their wings as an
improbable ally, even a mascot, if you will. They wanted to fist bump or
high-five me in the hallways, and they even invited me to sit with them in
the cafeteria. I felt strangely privileged to sit with them at their long
table in the middle of the hall that no outsider ever dared to sit at.

Well, every now and then some of the best treats on my plate, like the
patty of my burger or my chocolate pudding, mysteriously disappeared when I
looked the other way, but I started to enjoy my role in their posse. I
began to enjoy listening to their constant mutual jabbing and their filthy
jokes -- heck, I even managed to make a joke or two myself! And I gotta
admit that making the jocks laugh at my puns really made me feel as one of
them.

I became a member of Josh's eight-man campaign team, and they were amazed
by my general knowledge and fresh ideas. The jocks lived in a world of
their own, and they had no clue about the lives and thinking of other
teens.

Josh had borrowed a large trailer from one of his dad's businesses and
parked it outside the school compound. The trailer acted as his campaign
headquarters.

At the first meeting of our team I presented my campaign plan on the large
screen in the lounge area. The space was comfortable with a couch and a
couple of armchairs but slightly cramped for the seven of us present at the
start of the meeting. There were no vacant seats left for latecomers.

My advertising plan stunned Josh's campaign team. We needed a good general
slogan to cover the entire student population and to build Josh's profile
as a candidate, I told my audience. But most of all we would have to
specify the key voter profiles that were going to decide the outcome of the
election.

The feminists could be ruled out entirely, as Josh would get no votes from
them, period.

In my analysis I had defined three key target groups. A free T-shirt would
be made and offered to members of each target group.

I pressed the button and presented the first slide to the team.

TARGET GROUPS

GROUP 1

Wannabe jocks:

Guys who admire the jocks and secretly dream about becoming one of them.

GROUP 2

Bitches:

Girls who want to have a jock boyfriend and / or to be fucked by jocks.

GROUP 3

Losers:

Nerds, wimps, gays and other losers who want protection.

[]

We had only eight school days and one weekend left to win enough votes from
these groups. How would that be possible?

Josh thought he had a bright idea.

"We could buy airtime from the local cable station. We could call it Meet
the Jocks Show. I'd be the host and invite wimps and fags to chat with me,"
he suggested.

The rest of us thought his idea was a non-starter, and the jocks let him
have it.

"Get outta here Josh, that's a fucking stupid idea."

"Did you forget to bring your brain today, man?"

But Josh just chuckled. He was used to the banter and let the guys talk
their talk.

"Fuck your shitty ideas just like I fucked your little sister last night,"
someone yelled.

It felt suitable for me to offer my own comment.

"Yeah, that's right, fuck off Josh!" I laughed.

The trailer fell suddenly silent, and everybody looked at me in
astonishment. I looked at Josh and he looked back at me with a stern face.

"What did you say?"

"I... I don't know... I'm sorry Josh, I didn't mean that, man, I really
didn't," I stuttered.

He just looked back at me for a long time.

"Never mind Billy," he finally said with a wave of his hand, and I felt
relieved.

I started to explain my idea of a great weekend party for the target groups
when the door opened and Brett stomped in. His face wash flushed and
sweaty.

"Whooa! Fuck, I've been working my ass off for you today, bro. I put up 35
posters on all incoming roads to the school. My feet are fucking killing
me," he said and looked around for a seat in the crowded room.

Josh smiled.

"I appreciate what you're doing man, I really do."

Then he looked at me.

"Billy," he said with a little upward nod.

I got the message and got slowly up and offered my seat to Brett.

Brett suppressed a smile and slumped down in the seat I vacated for him and
stretched out his legs.

I moved back and leaned on the wall, trying to look like I felt completely
okay about being bossed around like this.

But Josh wasn't done with me yet.

"Billy, make yourself useful and take Brett's shoes off," he said
nonchalantly.

The jocks smirked as I walked slowly over, kneeled on the floor and untied
Brett's hi-top Nikes.

Brett looked at the guy sitting next to him with a smug
`what-the-fuck-is-this' look on his face. The guy briefed him with a
whisper in his ear and Brett's eyes widened when he heard how I had
disrespected the boss himself.

"He said that?" He asked incredulously and smirked at me.

I pulled the heavy shoes off and lined them neatly next to his feet.

I was about to get up when Brett said:

"Why don't you rub my feet for me a while, Billy, I really need that."

I let my knees meet the floor again as I took his left foot between my
hands and started to rub the ball of his foot with my fingers, switching to
the other foot from time to time. The jocks around me snickered and threw
snide remarks.

"Billy's a fucking ace with slogans. Is he any good with foot rubs?"
Someone behind me wanted to know.

Brett chuckled.

"Oh yeah, he's good, but this ain't the first time I've had him rub my
feet, right Billy? Remembereighth grade, in the locker room?"

I didn't reply, just kept rubbing his socked feet. But I remembered, for
sure.

"Your feet probably stink like a fucking dead rat, bro," Josh announced.

Brett chuckled. It was his turn in the limelight.

"Well, I forgot to put clean socks on this morning, I bet they
stink. Whaddya say, Billy, you think my socks stink?"

"I dunno Brett..." I tried to avoid the question.

"You don't know? Lemme help you," Brett snickered and pressed the sole of
his left foot on my face.

"How about now, Billy?"

My instant reaction was to pull back from the smudged sole of his sock, but
someone put his foot on my back and pushed me back.

"Come on, smell'em," Brett ordered, and I did.

The smell was strong, and I know I should say repulsive. But to my shame I
realized the sweet odor of Brett's socked foot on my face was a turn-on for
me.

"Poor Billy," someone said with pretentious pity.

"Naah, Billy likes it when I tease him a little," Brett snickered and
rubbed his foot against my nose and mouth.

"Well, what do you say, Billy? Do my socks stink or not?" He finally asked
and allowed me to breath freely again.

"I guess they stink, Brett."

"Well, take'm off then."

I rolled the moist, tattered socks off Brett's feet while the boys
entertained themselves by commenting on my performance.

"Attaboy."

"Yeah, that's right. Love to watch a bro being served."

"Remember to fold them real nicely, Billy. Brett hates wrinkles in his
socks."

At that point Josh called the meeting to an order.

"Okay Billy, walk us through the party idea. What's the point?"

I got up with some difficulty and leaned on the wall. Brett's sock fluff
and other dirt from between his toes had stuck into my fingers and I tried
to brush it off before answering.

"The party will be our main campaign effort. Jenna will never be able to
match it. A huge party with no adults and few rules. The purpose is to make
our key voters feel like they belong to a winning group. The wannabe jocks
will love feeling like one of you guys, and some of them will get laid
too. The bitches have never seen such a line-up of hot guys. And the losers
will get a glimpse of real human life: beer, food, music, sex. And girls
and jocks actually talking to them and nobody is gonna give them a hard
time."

My idea was unanimously approved and I got a lot of praise for it.

Josh leaned over to tousle my hair.

"You've been doing an awesome job, Billy. I'm proud to have you in my
team," he said, looking sincere.

"I've always known Billy is a great guy!" Brett declared, patting my back.

All the guys howled and whistled their agreement to the compliments.

"Thanks guys, I really appreciate being here. I'm happy to do whatever I
can for the team," I said, genuinely moved, and dried my eyes with the same
hand that had been rubbing Brett's feet a little while earlier.

"Now, we've got a shitload of work to do, guys. Let's get to the details,"
Josh said, and we sure did.

------

[Party time! We had only a few days to build up a great party from scratch,
and we did it! Josh had used his contacts to acquire a more than sufficient
supply of food, beer, wine and liquor. He never revealed exactly how he had
done it, but I got the impression that some catering business that was
owing money to some other business had agreed to reduce their debt capital
by leaving the backdoor of their warehouse unlocked at a certain time of
the night. Whatever the truth was, mentioning his dad in connection with
this illegal underage orgy was strictly verboten.]

The venue, a lakeside recreation facility owned by some business contact of
someone who knew another someone, was awesome. It had a stage with great
sound and light systems, outdoor and indoor tables and twelve bungalows
that could be used for... well, you know what.

We had to promote the party at school with great secrecy, but the word got
quickly around that everybody who considered voting for Josh was
invited. Food and booze would be free for anyone who showed up wearing our
campaign shirt with the slogans I had come up with. The shirts had been
handed out for free, of course.

Our main slogan was:

JOCK'N ROLL HIGH SCHOOL Josh Everton, President

To our delight these shirts had become a more and more common sight in the
hallways the closer we got to the big weekend.

For naughty girls we had a special edition of the shirt with another
slogan:

WE MAKE JOCKS HARD AGAIN Josh Is Hard Already

printed on the boobs area, of course. That was one of my inventions, too.

The dirtier version couldn't be worn publicly at school, of course, but
posing or dancing in that shirt became a popular meme on social media. Some
of the girls even wore it under a shirt at school and flashed it when the
teachers weren't looking. The jocks, particularly Josh himself, got to see
a lot of those flashes, and they praised me effusively for that.

"Thanks to Billy, we're gonna have all the pussy we can handle next
summer," Jace, a notorious poon hound declared to his friends while I
blushed and tried to look modest.

I came to the party wearing the regular shirt, but the jocks insisted I
changed it to the naughty edition. Everybody thought seeing me with a
promise to make jocks hard was hilarious.

Things were going well, and I had nothing particular to do, so I sat down
on the porch and watched the party getting wilder and wilder.

The bowl filled with free condoms close to the dance floor was one of my
ideas too, and I saw many boys and girls stop by to pick up a wrapper or
two.I had seen some of the girls already being led towards the bungalows by
lucky guys, and many other horny couples were making out on the dance
floor. Music, booze, hormones, exploring hands, erections, heat, bedrooms,
condoms; the ingredients of a great teen party - we had it all! Even some
of the nerds were dancing with living girls, and I could see the experience
was mind-blowing for them.

Brett was slouched in a lounger on the lawn not far from me, wearing a
colorful muscle shirt and cut-offs, and I admired his tanned shoulders and
legs and his tight torso that was visible through the generously open sides
of his shirt. He was sipping a beer and scanning his surroundings through
his Ray-Bans.

After a while Sally White, a pretty sophomore who was rated by the jocks as
a good fuck, sauntered by and smiled at Brett. A conversation ensued, and
Brett invited Sally to sit in his lap. When she did, Brett immediately
placed his hand high on her bare thigh.

I watched as Brett worked his prey, and soon they kissed, and Brett fondled
her breasts through the campaign shirt she was wearing, his eager hands
moving from MAKE to JOCKS down to HARD and AGAIN, and it was obvious that
my slogan was accurate. Her hand slipped inside his open shirt, fondling
his back, and I knew they would soon leave to find a more private spot for
getting into business.

Brett offered her his beer and she took a gulp, but then she started to
cough and suddenly she sprang up, took a few unsteady steps towards the
bushes and threw up her dinner and all the booze she had consumed.

Brett got up too and cursed. A big hardon was stretching his shorts, and
the jocks and girls around him found that hilarious. Brett didn't mind
that, just grabbed a new beer from the cooler and walked over to Josh who
was observing his herd from the porch.

I saw Brett curse his bad luck to Josh, who laughed and patted him in the
back. Brett fetched another beer and walked away, kicking some empty cans
in frustration. Then he turned his red ball cap backwards, took a sip of
his beer and turned to look at me. He walked around a little more, kicked
some more empty cans, took another sip and looked at me again, this time
longer.

Finally he finished his beer, threw the empty can on the lawn and walked
towards me. He grabbed my arm and pulled me up from my chair.

"Lessgo," he announced and started to drag me towards the nearby woods.

"Where are you taking me, Brett?" I demanded.

"You'll see," he snarled and burped.

He led me into a secluded clearing. Suddenly he stopped.

"Gotta take a leak," he said and turned us both towards a thick bush.

He unzipped his pants, fished his dick out and relieved himself with a
strong stream of piss that seemed to last forever, never letting go of my
arm.

He shook his dick, sprinkling some of his pee on me. He turned me around
and walked us to a fallen tree trunk. We sat down and Brett searched his
pockets until he found a folio wrap. He unwrapped the folio and took out a
blunt.

He lit the blunt, took a deep whiff and kept it in for a long time before
exhaling the smoke slowly through his mouth. He kept his eyes closed and
enjoyed the developing high. He offered the joint to me, but I shook my
head no.

"You know what, dude?" He suddenly asked.

"What, Brett?"

"Being a jock... it's all about power for me."

"Oh, okay."

He repeated the ritual with his joint. Then he spoke again.

"It's about knowing you are stronger that most guys. Knowing you got the
swag and the muscle to back it. I know I'm a cocky sonovabitch and I'm
fucking proud of it."

He took a deep whiff again.

"When we jocks walk into the fucking cafeteria everybody looks at us. Nerds
and wimps step aside for us and give us their place in line. Fuck, I love
that, we don't even need to say anything."

Then he looked me in the eye with his slightly reddish eyes.

"The way you look at me. I've been thinking about that lately."

"Oh?"

He spat on the ground.

"I don't mind fags drooling over me anymore. It's kinda flattering."

Then he nailed his eyes into mine again.

"What part of me do you like best? Besides my dick of course."

I thought that for a few seconds. I liked to watch his bubble butt, but I
was afraid that saying it aloud would freak him out.

"Well, all of you really. You're hot as fuck. But your abs are fabulous,
man."

He smiled.

"That's what I thought."

He lifted his shirt to show me his washboard eight-pack. This time I didn't
need to pretend, I drank in every detail with my eyes.

"Fifty sit-ups every day before breakfast. No matter if I'm sick or
hungover or whatever. Fifty-fucking-sit-ups, Billy."

"Wow!"

He leaned back.

"You can touch it. Go ahead."

I extended my open palm and pressed it on his stomach.

"It's like a brick wall," I said truthfully, resisting a strong urge to
keep feeling his belly.

"Yeah. Crazy, ain't it."

He hooked his arms and flexed his biceps.

"Feel these guns, man."

I squeezed his right bicep. It felt like a warm rock. Then he turned his
left side towards me and offered me his left arm. The move made him sway
slightly towards me, and my thumb slid into his hot armpit. I could feel
the silky hair, and his sweat moistened my thumb.

"That's some power, man," I complimented.

"Fuck yeah," he said and lit the tailed-off joint again.

"I love these motherfuckers. You can kiss them too if you want."

That was a surprise. The situation was getting weird, but I saw no reason
to be shy, so I leaned closer, Brett flexed his bicep and I kissed the hard
muscle.

"I'm real proud of my guns, you know," he said and turned around to offer
me his left bicep.

"You got every right to be," I complimented him before kissing his other
gun.

He took a big whiff of his spiff and let it linger in his lungs for a long
time before exhaling slowly.

"That's what being a jock is all about for me. Making other guys bow to
me. And getting pussy, of course."

"I see."

He smiled to himself.

"You know, messing with you in the trailer the other day was lit as fuck."

"I'm glad you liked it," I said rather sourly.

My sarcasm was lost on him.

"You were on your fucking knees at my feet. And then I told you to rub my
sweaty feet and take my fucking socks off, remember?"

"Haven't forgotten that one yet, Brett."

"It was humiliating as fuck for you."

I sighed.

"It sure was."

He turned to look at me with a knowing smirk.

"And you loved it."

That startled me.

"What?"

"You heard me. Remember the locker room in junior high? When you spilled my
juice?"

"You spilled it yourself, Brett. And that's something I'll remember for the
rest of my fucking life. Why did you do that to me?"

He smiled.

"Because I could. And because I knew you were a homo."

"Oh? How could you know that?"

"My older brother Case, he's a real homophobe. He told me to always watch
out for faggots. They're everywhere, just waiting for a chance to stuff
their dicks into your ass. That's what he said, and I believed him. I
didn't want anybody to fuck my ass, for chrissake."

He spat on the ground again and continued.

"I saw how you looked at me when we changed for PE class. I told Case about
it and he said you're a faggot for sure. He told me I had to teach you a
lesson, so you'd keep your hands off me. Don't beat him up, that's just
gonna get you suspended, but make him suffer. That's what he said."

"You had the whole thing planned then?"

"Nope. You just happened to walk in, and I knew that was my chance. I
improvised the rest with the OJ and shit."

"That was fucking cruel, man. How could you do that to me?"

Brett gave me an angry look. He saw I hoped he would apologize, and he
didn't like the idea.

"You're a faggot, dude. Live with it," he snarled.

Ouch! That hurt.

"I almost cried there," I mumbled.

"Yeah, I saw that, and that was my goal too, to make you cry in front of
the guys. I saw you were almost there, and I knew if I played just a couple
more tricks on you you'd be crying your fucking eyes off. But then I saw
something else."

"What?"

He turned to look at me with a big smile.

"You were making love to my sweaty foot, dude. You didn't let go of it, I
had to yank it away. And I saw you had a fucking boner in your pants."

I swallowed.

"But you didn't... say anything to your buddies... why?"

He chuckled and shook his head.

"It was so fucking weird. Never imagined a dude worshiping another guy's
foot."

"And outing you would've been a shitty thing to do," he added after a
pause.

I thought that for a while.

"I guess I have to thank you for that. Ratting me out would've made my high
school life fucking hell."

"You're welcome. But you know what?"

"What?"

"That was a fucking power trip to me, dude. The locker room shit, I mean."

Suddenly I wanted to hear more. My dick was pulsing in my pants.

"So, you liked it?" I asked.

"Liked it? Fuck yeah I liked it. All the guys watched as I fucked you
over. Everybody saw what a fucking alpha I am. And you know what?"

"What, Brett?"

"Humiliating you in front of them made my dick hard."

He licked his lips and asked:

"Tell me, what was it like? When I treated you like shit?"

"I've never ever been humiliated like that," I said truthfully.

He smiled and bit his lower lip.

"Yeah. Go on."

"You know, being on my knees at your feet, wiping your foot with my own
towel, while you and your buddies laughed at me. Nobody should be put
through something like that."

Brett's fingers had wandered down on the bulge in his shorts.

He looked at me with a goofy smile.

"And I did it again in the trailer last week."

"You sure did. Pressed your foot on my face and told me to smell it."

He spat on the ground and said:

"You know what, Billy."

"What?"

"I didn't see you flinch when I made you sniff my sock. That's kinda
weird."

"Oh, well... I... I mean..."

"You don't mind some jock stink, do you haha?"

"I guess not," I tried to be nonchalant.

"You get off on it, don't you?" He teased me with a nudge on my shoulder.

"I dunno..." I winced, hoping he would drop the embarrassing subject.

Instead, he laughed.

"Hahaha, don't be shy dude, I know you love that kinda shit. I'm so fucking
hot you wanna sniff me, I'm fucking flattered, hehehehe!"

Then he leaned closer and tapped his neck with his finger.

"Waddya say about my new fragrance? My mom bought it, it's fucking
Versace."

He pronounced the brand like `weer-sage'.

"You think chicks will fall for it?"

I leaned in. I was careful not to touch his neck with my nose, but the
locks of his hair tickled my face pleasantly. I took a whiff: a slight
overdose of expensive cologne, mixed with Brett's natural body odor.

"It's really nice, man. I bet chicks get wild when they smell it."

He gave me a satisfied grin.

"Fuck yeah, that's what I thought. How about my deodorant, then? Got some
new Axe, haven't tried it before."

He turned his side towards me and bent his arm behind the thick locks down
his neck, showing his bushy armpit.

I leaned closer again and brought my nose dangerously close to the black
bush and took a whiff. The sweet odor of cheap deodorant was in stark
contrast with the sophisticated scent of the cologne. He smelled... like a
jock.

"Well, I don't think you should use Axe with the fine cologne anymore,
man. It smells kinda cheap," I said.

He looked at me with a frown. I could see he didn't like my judgement.

"What the fuck dude, you're sayin' I smell cheap? You're insulting me. Try
again."

I leaned over again, and this time so close that his armpit hair was
tickling the tip of my nose.

"Sniffff!"

I was used to the thick jock smells filling up the cramped locker room
after PE class, but this was something else. I could feel the heat of his
body and I was almost touching it, and his body odor was strong.

I pulled back.

"Well, looks like I was wrong, it's... not that bad," I lied.

But Brett wasn't satisfied.

He grabbed the back of my head with his free hand and pulled my face into
his armpit.

"Not that bad? Try again!" He ordered.

I took a breath through my nose, and the draft sucked some of his hairs
into my nostrils. The smell was overpowering; fresh and dried sweat mixed
with mint-scented deodorant. Despite my awkward situation his raw odor was
a huge turn-on for me, and I felt my cock swell rapidly.

Brett growled into my ear.

"Most guys would punch you in the face for trying to sniff their pits, but
I'm letting you do it, so knock yourself out!"

He swayed a little and I almost lost my balance, my hand rubbed against the
front of his shorts, meeting something sturdy and hard. Brett's power trip
had made him hard again.

"Stick your tongue out," Brett said. His voice had turned raspy.

I obeyed and tasted the hot, moist skin and silky hairs of his armpit.

He used his hand to rub my face back and forth in his pit.

"That's right, faggot. Taste me, you might get some male hormones for
yourself too."

He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back to look at me in the eyes. He
had the same vicious, gleeful sneer on his face I had seen in the trailer.

"I wanna see you do it!" He snapped and let go of my hair.

I stuck my tongue out as far as I could and gave his armpit a long, slow
lick, starting where the pit met his ribcage, then through the bushy and
humid valley all the way to the underside of his bicep and then back again.

"Again!"

I bathed the entire length of his armpit with my tongue three more times
before he told me to stop. He spoke directly into my ear.

"I know what you came to look for here, fucking homo."

Actually you dragged me here, I thought, but didn't say anything.

"You wanna suck my dick, don't you?"

I saw no reason to deny the fact.

"Yeah. I do."

He looked at me intensely, licking his lips a little. But then he spread
his arms in a gesture meant to be sincere.

"Look man, I'm not gonna force you to do it, okay?"

I was surprised of his sudden concern.

"Thanks for that. But I wanna do it, I really do." I said sincerely.

"Yeah?I'll let you do it then. But it's gotta be on my terms, understood?"

"Yeah."

My compliance made him smile a little, but in his eyes I saw nothing but
lust.

He stood up and looked down at me.

"Don't forget this, Billy: I fuck women. I'm a man, not a fag like you."

"Gotcha, man," I said with more than a hint of irony.

I saw his eyes narrowing, but the way he suddenly slapped me upside the
head took me by surprise; yet another swing of jock mood.

"Don't try to get smart with me, faggot," he snarled.

"Sorry Brett," I said, rubbing my temple.

He stepped closer and pushed his pelvis right in front of my face.

"Take it out, bitch."

Just like I had opened Brett's jeans in the old bathroom, I unfastened his
swaggy Playboy belt buckle, unbuttoned the three buttons of his
factory-fucked-up cut-offs and pulled the flaps aside. He had chosen to
wear a pair of cool, leopard-patterned AE boxer trunks, expecting to make
an impression on a girl or two. Well, the sexy underwear and the sturdy rod
inside them sure made an impression on me. His fuck-stick was stretching
the front of the boxers, so that the angry leopard seemed to be leaping at
me.

"Billy," his raspy voice called above me, and I looked at him.

"I need this really bad now. Make me feel good, show me what you can
do. Can you do that for me, Billy?" That sounded almost like pleading.

Despite his constantly changing moods I came to think about something that
had been cooking deep inside my thoughts: Brett wasn't all bad after
all. He had a vulnerable side in him, and he was showing it to me of all
people. Maybe I could even become his... friend? No, that was
impossible. But maybe a sympathetic soul among the crowd of jocks I had
drifted to become a part of?

"Yes Brett," I said and gave the sturdy nose of the leopard a long lick.

"Yeahhh," I heard him moan.

There was no slit in his underwear, so I pulled the trunks down halfway his
thighs to give myself full operational freedom. His cock stood in half mast
in the middle of black pubes that continued on the inside of his upper
thighs and as a narrow ridge up to his navel. I could smell the sweat and
precum of his genitals, and his cock swelled in front of my eyes from
anticipation and raw lust.

I didn't have much experience in sex or foreplay, but somehow I knew what
to do. Brett was probably expecting me to start to suck his dick, but I
decided to tease him first. I placed my hands on his hips, kissed his innie
and stuck my tongue inside it.

He let out a moan, and I could feel his hardening cock press against my
chin, so I worked with his navel for a while before licking my way down the
black hairs, into the thick bush of his pubes and all the way to the root
of his cock.

"You like this?" I mumbled into his hairy sack.

"Yeahhh. Suck it, slut!"

But I decided to ignore his instructions. I pushed his already fully hard
cock aside, lifted his plump ball sack with my fingers and started to lick
it methodically, lapping away all the sweat and frustration from that hot
and hairy cover of his sperm factory.

After a minute he smacked my head again.

"I said, suck my dick, homo!"

I obeyed and opened my mouth to let him push his dick inside.

This was the second time I had sucked off a guy. But this was nothing like
the first time. I sucked Benny Atkinson behind the tool shed of the local
park one dark evening. He wanted to use a condom, and I sucked his little
rubber-covered weenie while he caressed my hair and cheeks and babbled with
his high-pitched voice, `Oh baby, this feels so good' and shit like that
less than two minutes before he filled the tip of the condom with his cum
and pulled back. Then he kissed me on the cheek and we parted our ways, him
satisfied and myself ashamed and confused.

This was something else. I was pleasing another boy again, but this time a
strong and determined young man who knew exactly what he wanted and made me
work hard to achieve it. He had total control over me, and I did my best to
make him feel good, and sunken as he was in his selfish passion he didn't
seem to notice my hands wandering all over his muscled back, strong legs
and rock-hard abdomen. I squeezed his well-trained buttocks; they felt
wonderfully smooth except for the coarse hair growing near his crack. My
fingers even lost their way and visited briefly the opening to the
forbidden canyon between his buttocks, and my fingertips were moistened by
the hot sweat pouring from inside.

I was bathing in his power and serving his lust, and I was his to use.

"You can... do... better..." he suddenly panted, like he had been reading
my thoughts.

Better? I was already giving him everything I got, and I thought I would
soon faint if he didn't come soon. What more could I do, I thought in
panic.

He answered my question by ramming his cock all the way down my throat,
drowning my nose in the thick growth of pubic hair. But then I realized
that my upper lip wasn't touching his underbelly. Half an inch more to
take!

Next time he thrusted, though, I was ready. With a strong grip on his
buttocks I pulled him in with all my strength, and he assisted me by
standing on his tiptoes and leaning in. All our joint efforts, his lust and
my servility, made us reach the goal: his cock sunk into my mouth all the
way, and my upper lip pressed onto his pubes while the lower lip was nested
between the root of his cock and his ball sack.

"Suck it... Billy," he grunted, and I used the abating energy left in my
jaw muscles to wrap his rod into the warm and wet enfold of my mouth while
my puffy lips made love to his slime-oozing cock. I let him use my mouth
like a pussy while he thanked me by calling me every degrading name he
could come up with, and the countless hours spent among other jocks had
taught him a lot.

"Suck
it... faggot... fucking... little... perv... suck...my... stinking... jock... cock... ..fucking... pansy... slut... suck
it... you...... stupid... fucking... miserable... lowlife... loser... queer... bitch... suck... it... fucking... homo... cocksucker..."

And then he released all the frustration of the deceiving girl, the
indulgence of humiliating me and the pleasure I was giving him. He unloaded
it all.

"Ungghhhh..."

He shot three spurts of warm jock cum into my mouth. Then he used his cock
to spread some of it on my face.

"Don't swallow yet..." he panted.

When he was done, he recovered from the orgasm for a minute while I waited
with my mouth full of his sex slime.

"Show me."

I opened my mouth and showed him his seed. He looked down at me and smiled.

Then he fished his phone out of his pocked and pointed the lens on my
face. I tried to protest, but that was impossible without choking in cum.

"Open wide."

I obeyed, and some of his cum dribbled down my chin.

We kept eye contact as he collected spit into his mouth and let it drain
down into my open cavity.

"Swish it. I want you to get a really good taste of me."

I closed my mouth and used my tongue to mix the slimy liquid.

"Lemme see."

I did and he laughed. He looked really cute with that contended smile on
his handsome face.

"Dude, that looks fucking disgusting," he snickered.

I just had to wait while he filmed my face from all angles. Then he said:

"Swallow."

I gulped the mixture down with some difficulty while he kept filming.

Then he squeezed a drop of cum off his already limp cock and wiped it on my
shirt.

"Who's your daddy, Billy?"

"You are."

"That's right. Good girl."

The he stuffed his phone into his pocket.

"See you later," he said and turned to leave.

But then he stopped, turned slowly around and pointed his finger at me.

"Dude."

He paused before saying:

"That shit I did to you in junior high."

He hesitated before continuing, and I really, really hoped he would say he
was sorry, because that would've been a huge relief for me. I had tried
hard to hate Brett since that day, but I had such a serious crush on him
that it drowned all my efforts of loathing him.

But then he simply said:

"You totally had it coming."

My heart sank. The only thing I was able to say without choking was a meek:

"Why?"

It took him a few seconds to come up with an answer.

"You were trespassing in my locker room. Haven't heard you apologize for
that."

I couldn't stop myself, I wanted so much to leave behind that painful
memory.

"I'm sorry, Brett," I said.

That brough a little smirk on his face.

"Apology accepted," he said and walked away.

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