Date: Sun, 5 Nov 2017 15:36:31 -0600 From: Scott Coffin Subject: A Coach's Tale part 5 From: scoffinator69 Disclaimer: This story is complete and utter fantasy, and should in no way be believed to say anything definitive about the characters involved, their sexual orientation, or their personal desires. It is 100% about the author thinking that this scenario would be fucking HOT. You should also realize by now that in a fantasy world, everyone is always safe from disease and disfigurement. We do not live in a fantasy world, so do with that knowledge what you will. If you are underage according to your jurisdictions applicable laws (18 or 21 in most cases), please do not read or disseminate this story in anyway. This story is copyrighted by the author as of 11-05-2017 Constructive input and/or encouragement is welcome at scoffin.2814@gmail.com. Flames will be ignored. I do hope you enjoy this story. Please consider donating to Nifty Archive. The archivist does awesome work here, and doesn't get any support except for our gratitude. Help keep this amazing site open for all of us! (There will be three chapters for this particular team story. Special thanks to Ryan S for the nudge toward the Eagles.) A Coach's Tale 5: Where Eagles Soar (chapter 1) Prologue This corner of the Eagles weight room was kept extra warm by design. Not as a punishment, per se, but rather an incentive, a nudge. Tight Ends Coach Justin Peelle was generally grateful to his boss, Doug Pederson, for making it so, especially on a day like today. A day when he had three of his stud position players in here for extra training. Right now, he was driving Zach Ertz, Brent Celek and Trey Burton toward the end of this supplementary work out, and on toward the far more enjoyable, and no less rewarding, rutting that the four men would soon find themselves entangled in. Peelle was already throwing wood at the mere thought of it, and was pretty sure his players were too. Three prime specimens of jock meat, wearing nothing but Pro Combats, jocks and training shoes. Three young, testosterone pumping men glistening with sweat. Three driven studs all trying to outdo each other, pushing themselves harder and harder to gain that extra edge even though they knew how evenly matched they were. How could they not be at least half chubbed by now. Part 1 Brent Celek was on his last rep on the bench press, and while not struggling exactly, he was decidedly distracted looking up at Trey Burton's spotting stance. While he tried to focus on his team mate's encouragement, looking up toward the younger man's face brought the primary distraction into the foreground in a way that was as intoxicating as it was off-putting. Celek was sure that Burton was doing it on purpose, but the older man, flat on his back, couldn't help but look at the heavy, full package the 26 year old showed off just inches above his nose. Trying to get himself back in the zone, he pulled his eyes away, only to refocus them on a sight at least as distracting. Twelve or so feet away, Zach Ertz was working on his last rep of squats, his movements being supported by their positions coach. Both men dropped impossibly low, and then rose back up, player straining under the weights, coach giving encouragement of his own. Celek watched the still pro player quality body of his thirty eight year old coach as it mirrored that of his team mate in tantalizing closeness. Celek often wondered about Ertz; no matter the younger TE's protestations of being strictly top, the senior player thought that someone, somewhere must have taken that muscle ass for a ride. Still, Celek wasn't too bothered by Ertz's alpha stance. In fact, given his own thirst for jock cock pounding his jock ass, the 32 year old was grateful for one less competing hole (and one more breeding tool). Three things happened at once to draw Brent Celek back to the moment. A drop of sweat falling from above onto his throat. A hand coming into view in the corner of his eye. His team mate's growling voice hitting his ear drum. "Come on, old man...Three more, then we can move to the cool down, and you can sniff on 'em all you want." Celek should have been pissed at the 'old man'. Shit! He was only 6 years older than the cocky-ass kid who said it. Instead, he smiled through the strain of getting it down to 2 more. "And you can suck my hairy asshole, kid!" Trey Burton laughed, even as he blatantly adjusted his swelling package. "Gladly, stud." Celek felt Burton's hands covering his own as he racked the weights, and both men looked at each other with lusty grins. Seeing his buddy lean in closer, Celek raised his torso up, preparing to meet the younger man in a kiss. "How fast you think Peelle drops us if he actually gets a shot at Zachy Boy's ass?" "Jealous, Trey? It might open things up in more and better ways if Ertz gave it up to him! Of course, it would also mean less coach cock for us." Burton's smile widened, and his lips parted in that way that always sent an extra charge to Celek's groin, no matter how charged up he already was. As the younger man's tongue poked out to lick his lower lip, Celek found himself vibrating with anticipation, and let his own lips part for his team mate's kiss. Even as his eyes fluttered closed in yearning, the older man knew he had been faked out. The first touch of the younger man's tongue on the side of his neck brought shivers. And the long slow swipe of that tongue brought goosebumps. "Love the way you sweat, stud." whispered Burton. His team mate could only sigh as their lips finally met, and there tongues began wrestling together. Zach Ertz could see his fellow tight ends in the mirror, and he could feel the presence of his stud position coach behind him. The man's rough hands coming into play to correct his form, to steady his rise as needed. And the voice, low and self assured in his ear. "There you go, stud. One more now." said Peelle as the two lowered their bodies back down into the last squat. "Hold it. That's it." Ertz's entire body was straining at the position. The feel of his coach's breath on the back of his neck and the sight of his team mates swapping spit in the mirror did nothing to help. Feeling Peelle's hands now sliding from his sides, down to his pumped up and burning glutes gave the stud TE the go ahead, the voice growling in his ear as he began his last rise brought him the rest of the way to full hardness. "Look at those two. Can't leave them alone for 2 minutes and they're playing tonsil hockey." Both men chuckled as Ertz racked the weights and, feeling the fleeting pressure of his coach pressing against him fully, stepped out from under them. The tight end only hoped that his coach hadn't registered the hesitation. The hesitation that the 26 year old jock was now busy tamping back down. The lips pressing strongly onto the nape of his neck not helping. "Gonna let me rim you today, Zach? Please?" "When have I ever passed up your tongue up my hole, coach?" Justin Peelle chuckled as he kissed his way down his players spine. When he was nearly to his knees, he brought his fingertips to the waistband of the stud tight end's pro combats, running along the very edge of them for a couple of inches before he began to pull them down, tasting his players sweat as he ran his tongue to the small of the big man's back. As he lowered the shorts further, exposing the waistband of Zach's damp white jock strap, nipping at it with his teeth, he caught a few of the downy hairs dusting this decadent piece of flesh. Zach Ertz leaned slightly forward toward the squat rack, spreading his powerful legs, and wincing slightly at the sting of hair tangled in teeth. The slide of his coach's long, powerful tongue gliding lower along the crack of his muscle ass, eyes locked on his team mates in the mirror. His rabid moan at feeling his coach's tongue make contact with his ass lips brought the attention of his fellow tight ends, and a chuckling whoosh of air direct from Peelle's lungs and into his jock hole. The 6'5" stud gripped the bar tighter, spread his legs wider, and pushed his muscle ass back onto the probing, teasing tongue. The first darting push of the muscle seeking entry brought a first, tentative dilation to his sphincter that seemed to reverberate in and upward right to his gut. The wet, pointed tip flickering over thousands of nerve endings as it speared it's way inside him. Trey Burton pulled himself away from his fuck buddy's lips and rose. Then, stepping back, he lifted the weights off the bench press and set them on the floor in front of him. Leaning back into the kiss, he allowed his hands to slide down Celek's muscled torso toward the waistband of the older man's shorts. His thumbs trailed along the waistband, fingers of his left hand curling around the hefty bulge pressing out against the fabric of the compression gear. Breaking the kiss once again, he moved his tongue and lips down his buddies body, trailing along Celek's jawline, before moving to taste of the sweat pooled in the hollow at the base of the throat. Nipping kisses along the ridge of pectoral muscle on his way to the eraser like hardness of nipple. Burton felt Celek's hands sliding upward along his legs to clutch onto his glutes. The gripping fingers digging into pumped up jock muscle even as he took the man's hard nipple between his lips, and then ran his teeth along the nub, bringing his partner to the edge of tremulous madness. Sliding his thumbs now under the waistband of his fuck buddy's shorts his tongue continued it's journey downward, kissing at the navel, and running along the pronounced vee of muscle heralding his team mate's pelvis. Working his hands under the fabric and pulling it away from the heaving sweaty body of his fellow tight end, Burton began the mad scramble to finish stripping the man beneath him. Celek, however, interrupted this action to begin frantically pulling off Burton's shorts and jock. The younger man stood briefly to assist in his own disrobing, catching sight of Peelle and Ertz not even 15 feet away. Eyes locking with Ertz's, Burton felt momentarily jealous at the knowledge that their position coach had his tongue buried deep in the jock ass of his team mate. Celek's grip on his ass, and the yanking downward of his body were quickly followed by Burton's second favorite feeling in the world. Brent Celek's full lips and muscular tongue enveloping and washing over his balls. Letting out with a full throated roar, Burton set back to stripping Celek of his shorts, and digging his hand under the older man's jock strap to clutch the massive cock. Ertz felt the lips and tongue working his ass shift and move, followed by the turning of his coach's broad shoulders as Brent Peelle shifted under and around him, scooting up between the tight end's legs, and snaking his tongue along the gaps between the flesh and the sweaty mesh of the football players jock. Heaving in great lungfuls of musky humid air, and running his hands over the muscular cheeks of the 26 year old's jock ass. Ertz brought one hand to the back of his coach's head, grinding his dank crotch into the older man's face. He watched, rapt, as Burton finally freed Celek's cock and balls from the side of his jock pouch, and pushed it to standing. Ertz was once again taken aback by the sight. "That is one huge fuckin cock that slut bottom has." he thought as he watched Burton begin to lave his tongue over and around and under the loose foreskin. Ertz's mouth gaped at the lusty sight of Burton slipping his lips over the crown, and then letting his face slide down the proud column of the thick 9.5 inch shaft, burying his nose in Celek's moist pubes and holding steady before finally drawing back up toward the head, sucking in breath as he did. Ertz could also just make out the movements of Burton's hips, clearly thrusting his own solid 7.5 inches into Celek's furnace hot throat. Having often felt both men's talented mouths working his jock shaft, Ertz knew what each man was feeling, and while that knowledge was good, it was nothing compared to the feeling of his coaches talented tongue digging under the pouch of his own jock, and working like crazy to extricate the tight end's shaft out the side of it. Justin Peelle was in jock funk heaven tasting and smelling the musty crotch of his stud player. Running his tongue between the moist fabric and the pre-cum damp flesh, hands digging into the massive glutes of the 6'5" jock stud, loving the digging pressure of his players fingertips pressing into his skull in an effort to force greater union between coach mouth and jock cock. Finally, Peelle managed to free Ertz's shaft from the side of the jock, letting the thick 8.5 inches slap against his cheek on the recoil, before catching the tip of the crown between his lips. Working his tongue like a whip along the player's piss slit, the coach mined for more and more pre-cum, letting it drool out over his tongue before finally inhaling as much of the sweaty shaft as he could, and burying his face in the big man's crotch. Letting his tight end's low hanging balls slam against his chin as he began vacuuming swallows as if he wanted nothing more than to suck Ertz's cock completely off. Ertz's could feel his knees buckling at his coach's suction. The big tight end hunched down over his coach, driving the last of the eight and a half thick inches into the seated man's throat, his clutching hand on his cock sucker's shoulder threatening to topple them both to the ground. The tight end just managed to re-grip the squat rack and pull him self slightly back upright. He began a steady fuck of his position coach's face as he watched his team mates sinking deeper into their rabid 69. Peelle's tongue was running a mile a minute across the fiery skin of his cock, tracing along the veins snaking the surface of his beer can thick shaft. His hands leaving angry red prints on the muscular ass in his grip, even as Ertz's fingers dug into the coach's shaved skull. The tight end made one strong thrust backward, breaking the coach's grip, and freeing himself from the furnace of the man's mouth. Lunging down, he claimed his coach's mouth with his own, dragging the man farther up between his legs, gripping Peelle's jock encased cock with his strong right hand, he pulled the man even farther up, only breaking the kiss when the coach was on his knees. Part 2 "I think it's about time we join your boys coach, don't you?" Turning his head to the right, and taking in the horny sight before them, Peelle could only nod. "Mind if I feast on Celek's slut hole, coach? You can take Burton's. Alright?" Peelle nodded again as he rose and began to close the last few feet of the gap, Ertz smiled as he followed their coach. Trey Burton's eyes shot open at the feel of the tongue ramming it's way into his already winking jock ass. His eyes focusing quickly on Ertz's cocky grin inches in front of him brought forth his own smirk, lips stretching around Celek's massive cock still deep in his throat. "Gonna help me get at this ass, Trey?" Ertz whispered, "Gonna spread your boys cheeks for him so I can dig on in there?" By way of reply, Burton shifted and raised up slightly, the motion brought his hole in even closer contact to his coach's face, as he peeled apart the muscular cheeks of his fuck buddy's ass, exposing the sweaty crack to Ertz's appreciative gaze. The groan from Burton, as Peelle's tongue dug even deeper inside him, reverberated along Celek's already painfully hard cock shaft, sending him into spasms. Spasms that went straight to his sphincter, causing dilations which Ertz wasted no time in pouncing on. Justin Peelle swore he could feel Celek's moan on his tongue. As Ertz's talented tongue slid into his team mate's ass, and began fucking the jock channel, the 32 year old tight end on the bottom of this particular pile let out a gasping moan, which moved like lightning along the shaft of Burton's cock buried in his mouth, and then to Peelle's tongue buried in Burton's jock cunt. The added dilation allowed the coach to bury another half inch of mouth muscle into his player. All four men were moving as one well oiled machine now. Two strong tongues digging into the sweaty asses of two jock bottoms, while those two bottoms inhaled each others cocks. The gasping moans of four men echoed around the room, sweaty, muscular frame sliding along sweaty, muscular frame as they devoured each other fore and aft. Peelle pulled back from Burton's winking jock hole, and rose slightly. "Time we kick this up a notch, I think." He stated, catching Ertz's gaze. Smiling broadly, the 6'5" tight end rose too, cupping his palm under his rock hard shaft, he let his spit fall to his cock, and spread it over the head. He moved into position at the same time as his coach, watching the older man bring his leaking cock head right to the target that was Burton's always eager hole. Moving himself onto the end of the bench, he smirked at Burton's assistance as Celek's powerful thighs were pulled back higher, and spread out wider. He watched Burton's eyes roll in their sockets, even as the cock sucking bottom's mouth sank further down the shaft already splitting his lips wide, and Ertz slid inward on the sweat slicked surface of the bench, flaring crown making contact, then splitting, then sinking balls deep through Brent Celek's slut ass. The guttural moans of both bottoms vibrated along the leaking cocks in their mouths, and the driving cocks in their asses. Justin Peelle was balls deep in Burton's clenching ass, seven and a half inches of thick coach cock digging into prime tight end booty. Peelle watched Ertz drive into Celek from the other end, the idea of the stud's fat cock splitting his team mate's ass almost as intoxicating to him as the actual feel of Burton's jock cunt clutching at his shaft as he moved inside the 26 year old stud's body. Each drive of Peelle's body, shafting his bottom deep and full, brought sprays of sweat flinging off his chest only to rain down on the tight end's own, already sweaty back. Streaming rivulets of pure jock musk running down along the bottom's spine, jolting into another stream each time the stud coach slammed into Burton's bruised ass with bone crunching force. Without conscious effort, Peelle and Ertz found a rhythm in their fuck strokes. Ertz driving inward, deep shafting Celek as Peelle withdrew from Burton against the greedy bottom's friction. Each bruising thrust, bringing with it a further impalement on the cock in each bottom's mouth. Each withdrawal bringing great gaspings of air by the dizzy, fuck drunk cocksuckers. The quivering tightness, the clutching heat of Celek's miraculous talented ass was pulling Zach Ertz higher and higher toward the peak, he knew from experience that Burton was having the same effect on Peelle, but he also knew that his coach had amazing staying power, and was not going to be cumming anything like as soon as he would. The 26 year old tight end had fucked his 32 year old team mate enough to know that if his load was shot anywhere other than inside the slut bottom's ass he would be angry, hell, as much of his jock splooge as he had dumped deep inside both Celek and Burton, he was half surprised he hadn't knocked both of them up! Peelle recognized what was happening, the driving inevitability of it, even before Ertz had fully realized it. "Gettin' close, Zachy? Gonna grease the skids for me and Trey?" Ertz couldn't even respond, but then again he didn't need too. All three of the other men had seen Zach's approach enough to know it was coming from a couple dozen or so strokes before it hit. Trey Burton lifted off Brent Celek's cock, giving Zach all the room he needed for the seizure of his orgasm when it came. Justin Peelle slowed the speed, but not the intensity, of his thrusts into Burton's ass, an ass that was clutching and milking with even more desire than it had been just ten seconds before. If he had been less sure of himself, the coach might have been jealous at the fact that his bottom's ass was dreaming of Ertz's cock getting ready to flood it. A quick, sharp smack or five of the sweaty cheeks he was slamming into though, brought Burton's thoughts back to his coach's relentless cock, where they belonged. Celek's clutching, fist like milking of Ertz's monster was wholly appropriate, and was driving the top crazy with every flicker of ass muscle along his cock shaft, skin pulled so tight with the impending orgasm that it was surely splitting even as Ertz continued fucking his way in and out of the experienced jock cunt. The other men knew, from their own rides on Ertz's jock cock, that the man was currently fighting against the impossible swell of his organ, the almost painful tightening in his balls. But only Celek was lucky enough to feel it happening inside him. Only Celek was lucky enough to be fighting his own fight against the top stud's resistance. Only Celek was lucky enough to be clamping down tight along the monster inside him, choking it out internally, milking his top, desperate to be bred. To be lubed. And Ertz was fighting it, wanting to keep fucking this ass as long as he possibly could. Willing all of his focus to holding back the flood, Zach transformed into something almost like a rag doll, his powerful, broad shoulders drooping forward, his back relaxed letting his chest fall forward even as his head, no bearing the appearance of being in a deep trance, lolled back, exposing his throat. His jaw slack as every fiber of his being fought to hold the swelling of his cock, the now pulsing churn in his balls from taking over his body. That fight was half the pleasure. The denial of gratification increased it, Stoked it like a bonfire. The roar, when it hit, brought the other three men to their own even higher pleasure as they watched the muscle quaking force of Zach Ertz's orgasm. Five massive blasts of jock stud cum flooding into jock stud ass. The thrusts that fired those blasts, rocking Zach's body like shaking dice. The guttural call of dominance, of breeding, echoed around the room, nearly driving Pelle and Burton over the edge in it's wake. Part 3 Celek's muscle cunt was still milking, even as Ertz's cock lost some of it's hardness, and the stud tight end began to extract himself from his team mate. Peelle and Burton allowed themselves another moment of union before they pulled apart, Celek loathe to let the second cock be extracted from his body so soon after the first. Zach rose slowly, taking care to make sure that his legs were steady under him before he rose from the bench, and steeling himself further as he took Celek's wrist in his grip, and pulled the other man up toward him. Turning his team mate's body as he kissed him, Zach Ertz nuzzled himself against Brent Celek's strong, sweaty back, nestling his still half hard cock into the crack of his fellow tight end's ass. Both men moved lazily to the side as they watched the third tight end, Trey Burton lay himself out on the bench. Ertz pulled himself away from the warmth of Celek's body, and reached out to raise Burton's hard seven and a half inch cock perpendicular to his body. Taking hold of his team mate's right hand as their position coach gripped the man's left, Ertz and Peelle helped move Celek into position over Burton's jock frame. Celek's eyes never broke their connection with Burton's as he lowered himself onto his fuck buddy's hard shaft, impaling himself on the familiar and oh-so-welcome cock. Ertz held Celek in position, fully impaled on Burton's cock, kissing the 32 year old stud's shoulder and neck, while steadying him for their coach. Justin Peelle moved around behind his conjoined players, letting his rough, sweaty palms and his aching, drooling cock trace along the muscular back of the rider as he slipped into position. Zach watched Brent, studying the older man's face and torso, still intrigued after all this time, at the changes the bottom stud's body would soon be going through. Impressed (and maybe a little jealous) of the laser like connection between his team mates as their gaze remained locked together. The first shifts were subtle, but no less telling as Zach knew exactly what was happening at Brent's jock hole. The man's eyelids began a fluttering movement, telling Ertz that Peelle's thick cock had made first contact with Celek's already stretched out hole, and Burton's pulsing cock shaft. The droop of the 6'4" stud tight end's shoulders, and the relaxation of his neck, allowing his head to roll forward and hang limply, let Ertz know that Peelle was now forcing his own, thicker 7.5 incher in alongside Burton's. A quick glance down to Burton's face, eyes rolled back, tongue playing over full lips, and Ertz knew the pressure was feeling as good to him as it was to Celek. Brent sagging farther forward still, and Burton relaxing against the sweat slick padding of the bench meant that double penetration was nearly complete, the simultaneous moans of his team mates, and Celek's gasping statement let Ertz know that this union was complete, and that t he rocking motions would soon start. "Fuuuuuuuuuuck, coach.....Trey, baby.........Daaaaaaaaaamn, fuck me!" The need, the primal ache, evident in Celek's gasping words. The two men inside him began their symbiotic movements, feeding off each others energy in the fusion reactor that was Brent Celek's fiery jock cunt. The two tops watched as Zach Ertz lean in to kiss their bottom as the stud tight end raised himself up, and swung his leg over the bench. Holding the deep, oxygen depriving claim on his team mate's lips until he seated himself on Burton's puffy lips and pointing tongue, pulling away from his other team mate's mouth, as he lowered Celek further with a strong, insistent hand on the back of the stud slut's neck. Zach Ertz felt Trey Burton's eager probing tongue driving deep into his winking jock ass at the same moment he felt Celek's full lips wrap around his fuck slimed, still cum covered cock. The double fucked bottom inhaled his hard again 8.5 incher, as Burton drove what felt like close to 5 inches of tongue deep into his bowels. Zach Ertz watched in a daze as Peelle's big hands gripped tighter around and into Celek's muscular ass and thighs. Through drooping lids, the tight end witnessed his coach take control, and begin to drive the fuck of the man now whimpering around Zach's hard jock stalk. The 38 year old coach began a steady, driving fuck stroke inside Celek's tightly stretched ass, glorying in the feel of the clutching jock channel as much as the feel of the pulsing cock he was sliding along in the shared power bottom cunt. Brent Celek ground himself back, and twisted his hips as much as he was able, desperate to please the two men now deep and hard in his aching hole. The ease with which these three men used him for their selfish pleasures drove the massively hung power bottom jock to higher and higher levels of desire. The two throbbing seven and a half inch stud cocks tearing through his hole, pummeling his prostate into submission, driving copious streams of pre to ooze from his slit. The taste of Zach's cum on his tongue, mingled with the taste of his deepest, most depraved self, led him sprinting down the path of punch drunk lust as he allowed every inch of his body to be used by these fucking jock studs. Even as he drove himself harder, let himself sink deeper into the need, that would allow him to ratchet the lustful, rutting desire of these three men up, higher and higher. A lesser man would have become more selfish the nearer to orgasm he got. A lesser man, but definitely NOT Brent Celek. The 32 year old, 6'4" jock slut ratcheted his desire to please up higher and higher the closer he came to blasting out his load. And while it may have looked to a first time observer that the power bottom was on automatic pilot, nothing could be further from the truth. To the three men now pummeling his jock body from the inside, the telling nature of Celek's most depraved self, brought them into sharper focus. If you have a pig slut like Brent Celek giving himself completely over to your darkest, most animal lusts, you better fucking well treat the bitch right. And they did! Trey Burton felt it coming on more in the rivulets of his buddies pre-cum sliding along the pronounced ridges of his abdominals than in the increased strangling pressure gripping along his rock hard cock. Justin Peelle felt it as much in the power of the power bottoms backward, hip twisting grinds as he drove forward into the choking heat of sweaty jock cunt. Zach Ertz felt it in the sucking, vacuuming pressure of the mouth wrapped tight along his fat stud cock, a mouth that seemed desperate to suck the beating heart right out of the chest of the 6'5" face fucker. The first movements of the three top men were subtle, but no less assured for it. Trey Burton increased the pressure and depth of his thrusts into Celek, and alongside Peelle. Driving his thickening, close to bursting jock shaft harder and harder through the quivering jock tunnel. Peelle slid a strong hand from the double fucked stud's hip to a grip around the big man's shoulder, pulling him back tighter against the double invasion even as he raised the man slightly off Burton's body. Ertz began to pull back and away slowly, releasing Burton's tongue from his stud hole, and extracting his leaking cock from Celek's swallowing throat. As he moved away, swinging his leg back over the bench to allow his team mate's to lock eyes again, he caught something in the corner of his eye. Focusing now on the man not 10 feet away from the lusty foursome Zach caught the gaze of his daddy stud head coach, Doug Pederson. Blocked as he was by a piece of exercise equipment, the tight end could only see the big man's upper body, could only allow himself to be held by the older man's steady, controlling gaze. As sure as he was that the coach had been there for a while, and was probably stroking his own daddy cock, Ertz knew that the coach's view wasn't blocked in the least, and that the stud had a clear view of his assistant and three tight ends rutting, sweaty orgy. The heart that Zach had felt was being sucked out through his cock just seconds ago was now lodged in his throat as he stood in the appraisingly penetrative gaze of this studly man. This man that Ertz was desperately, childishly eager to please. And that eager desperation terrified the 26 year old jock stud. And the smiling, nodding look that was cast his way told him that terror was registered, and would be assuaged the minute that Zach was willing to let it happen. Zach Ertz watched his coach turn and walk away, just catching sight of the stud walking through a side door and down the passageway, as his attentions were drawn back to the other three men. Justin Peelle was teasing Brent Celek's cock with a practiced, teasing grip. Thumbnail tracing along veins, fingers in a loose stroke along the other side of the massive uncut cock. Celek's torso was hunched in a camel back pose over Trey Burton's heaving chest, lips locked, the two fuck buddies were driving their tongues against each other, even as the younger tight end raised his hips off the bench to drive harder into the choking heat of his man's jock cunt. Ertz watched, wide eyed, as the double stuffed power bottom let loose his seed. Five copious blasts of prime jock slut cum pouring forth onto the muscular chest of one of his fuckers, as the other fucker began trailing his fingers through the viscous deposit. Justin Peelle scooped the bottoms fresh cum with his fingers, bringing them into the midst of the rutting, bruising kiss of the other two men. Feeling his tight ends tongues slurping greedily at the offering before sliding back down for more. The third such gift was met with the impossible pressure of Burton's thickening, thrusting cock along his own. Threatening to choke off the coach's own thickening for a moment, the two men continued thrusting in tandem inside the wheezing, whimpering jock slut trapped, willingly, between their rutting bodies. Trey Burton felt the first pulsing blast of his coach's cum even as he felt his own load rocketing itself along his fuck tube. Coach and player anointed the ruined ass of Brent Celek with 11 combined shot gun blasts of cum, bathing the bruised and burning jock cunt in soothing liquid warmth. It was several minutes of gasping, gulping recuperation before the three fucked out jock studs began to slowly become aware, once again, of their surroundings. Lazing together in the moist warmth of their sweaty rut, soothing each others steamy, sweat slick skin with gentle nipping kisses. Celek, head angled, resting on his buddy's sternum, tongue teasing erect nipple spoke first. "Where'd Zachy go? Stud was right here with us!" "Followed Coach P down to the sauna. Saw the old dog watching us while we fucked." Came Pelle's lazy, drowsy reply. "Oh, fuck man...we gotta go see this!" Burton nearly shouted, as he tried to struggle out from under the joyously crushing weight of his fuck partners. "No way, Trey! Not a chance guys." Commanded their position coach. "Those two get this time for themselves. After all this time, Pederson deserves that much from us, and Zachy needs that much from us." "I need pizza and beer." Celek's lazy statement brought the three men to giggle fits. "And a good old fashioned spit roasting. My place?"