Date: Thu, 8 Apr 2021 16:25:10 +0000 (UTC)
From: Terry Green <terrygreen822@aol.com>
Subject: Fun in the Sack with Trevor Lawrence

Please support nifty in any way you can, and let's generate awareness
for LGBT literature. This story is a work of fiction. This never
happened, it's just pure fantasy as Clemson QB Trevor Lawrence is sexy.
Thank you to nifty, fellow contributors, and also readers. You've helped
with your feedback and I value you very much. Terry


Watching Tom Brady win another Super Bowl didn't seem real. While jaded
as a professional sportswriter, it took a leap of faith, to imagine a 43
year old guy winning his seventh ring. I remembered the boyish Brady
bringing a Patriots Championship, not long after the disturbing events of
9/11. That kick sealed the deal, but it was this young 199th pick, who
made that team complete. He reminded me of a more disciplined Brett
Favre, or of his own childhood hero, which was Joe Montana when he played
for San Francisco. Montana still always made me laugh. I had interviewed
him several times, and he had confirmed the "is that John Candy" story,
that happened in the 49ers Super Bowl with the Cincinnati Bengals.

Wait a minute, the Cincinnati Bengals? Ouch. Talk about the minor leagues
of professional teams. It went without saying, but even with Joe Burrow
and new developments, they were the punching bag to every sports joke.
The past few weeks had been exhausting working for my publication. While
television and internet coverage was more sexy, there's still a large
number of Americans who enjoy reading about their teams and sports icons.
Technology was taking over, but so as to extend my craft, my company and
I worked voraciously to line up interviews with the hottest players.
Later this evening I'd meet Clemson Quarterback Trevor Lawrence, who was
the consensus #1 pick coming up for the NFL draft. It was a nice surprise
to secure this interview, as the 6'6 phenom was being compared to Canton
enshrined players. Clemson University always had a following, but he made
the powerhouse of the south, get an explanation point on the end of the
team name.

Reviewing footage in my hotel room, I admired his ability for quick reads
on coverage, or his arm strength to snap out fifty yard blasts to a
barely open receiver. I tried to find pertinent information about his
life, girlfriend, and other noteworthy events, but there wasn't much
material to work with. He didn't have an off campus record or rumors of
bad behavior. This was always where I got the best data for interview
preparation, and I wasn't afraid to ask any questions. Sure I'd get a
lot of "no comments," yet body language taught me when I was on to
something. This led to intense interviews, and some articles published,
that would garner attention and also make my editor squirm. She couldn't
quash most of my work. Sarah was the consulate professional, and knew
what we were up against. Although younger than me, she was intense,
cerebral, and focused on achievement. Due to this we got along great, and
she was one of only a handful of colleagues, who knew I was gay. She last
week, made sure to take me out to lunch, as it was the anniversary of
losing my sister to cancer. A painful day that always left me in tears,
as Terri was beloved by all that knew her. I knew once home, I'd check
on her husband and almost grown up kids.

Traveling caused time distortion. What airline was I on? What's the
destination? Am I at the correct airport? Did the car rental voucher show
up, and what hotel would I attempt to sleep in. Years ago there was a
rumor that New York governor Mario Cuomo, went home nightly to his own
bed, so that he could get a proper rest. Smiling at this memory, perhaps
he was correct to do this. Yet I also wondered, as my mind often
wandered, what would he think of his sons allegations of sexual
harassment be? I had met the elder Cuomo several times, and lost track
how I wanted him to be president. Approaching my mid 40's, I was also
having to take Benadryl more often to sleep. Sure some of this was
traveling, but it seemed as if my best nights of z's were never going to
happen again. Now it was aspirin and antacids. Still I was thankful to
have my 6'3 frame and good health, as I looked younger than my age with
a nice figure and thick brown hair.

Knoxville heat was in effect. Just like my last visit to Tennessee in
April. While Trevor Lawrence didn't go to Petyton Manning's alma mater,
which had streets named after him, I was to visit him at his house on the
outskirts of town. The rental Chevrolet Malibu kicked on, and I cranked
the AC to full, before my short sleeve dress shirt became soaked. How did
confederate or Union soldiers invading the south, wear wool and travel 30
miles a day? Here I was in a relatively modern car, with a 5G phone, and
GPS guidance getting me to my destination. It was a coup to score a
interview with Trevor, as countless others in media, would sell a kidney
for the opportunity. In this fiercely competitive business, they might go
higher than that. As usual I had my beat up Samsonite briefcase, tape
recorder, and notepad with questions already filled in.

Knoxville was very much a college town, and maps along with directions
could be confusing. Then again so could the locals accents. On my last
trip I asked a Knoxville police officer for directions, and couldn't
understand a damn thing he said. To be polite, I simply nodded my head
and thanked him for his help. I laughed driving to this memory, when out
of nowhere, a black SUV almost careened into my lane. Honking my horn,
sweat formed on my arms, as we didn't have the dreaded impact. Life on
the road sounds glamorous, but this and acidic tasting coffee, was the
reality of the situation. Add that to the time distortion, and I often
mused that I should have picked a safer profession. Yet that was all in
my head, as my heart lived to meet athletes, learn sports and about the
people who made it happen. What surprised me with these athletes, was not
the news stories about violence and drugs, but rather the charitable work
these folks did for no attention or recognition. So many considered this
"quiet faith," so I did respect their wishes in articles, unless they
offered it up voluntarily. Not many did, and I admired these wealthy
folks, for their random acts of kindness.

Trevor Lawrence opened the door, and introduced me to his parents. His
mom and dad were very kind, and I was thankful for their hospitality.
Here I was a media nuisance, being treated with such warmth and
congenital behavior. Inside my thoughts, were "that'll change in a
year, and damn Trevors taller than I thought." Heck he might be 6'7 and
230! He had the longest arms I had ever seen, and pictures didn't do him
justice. I had seen him before on the news or in games, but he was so
sexy with his long light brown hair. He had Teutonic Roman like features,
and a sly smile that made me feel, twitchy to put it kindly. Even his
voice was sexy, with a southern drawl, but not Knoxville brough that I
couldn't comprehend. A nice young man, probably excited to be drafted #1
by the now Urban Myer led Jacksonville Jaguars.

He didn't act 22, instead it was like being in the room with a well
established, mature 35 year old. I had to laugh as he asked me, "is that
briefcase from Jurassic Park?" He didn't mean it maliciously, and had
to smile, as the mileage was showing on it. His parents had left us in
the living room with crackers, cheese, fruits, and even chopped bell
peppers. What a nice spread and a comfortable house. Upper middle class
but more pretentious, I had done my homework, and knew Trevors mom was a
principal and his dad owned a construction company. Their cars were in
the garage, but I did get to meet Rusty, their friendly Brittany dog that
apparently was used to hunt ruffled grouse. Some bird I had never heard
of, although I was familiar with pheasants and quail. Those were both
attractive and delicious birds, that rivaled the best chicken or turkey
money could buy.

Trevor and I sat on the same couch, with the big screen television off.
He was easy to talk to, and we went over everything from his childhood to
his future aspirations in the NFL. His body language suggested to me
he'd be fine with any team, but I was able to coax out his
administration for Urban Myer. I asked him about his agent David Spanos
and what kind of contract he would entertain. "Whatever the team thinks
I'm worth." While I knew his agent was the ball buster, I found
Lawrence to be laid back and very intuitive at the same time. He gave me
good information about his Pee Wee Football team, and how he wanted to be
a safety or cornerback originally. Yet a astute coach saw him tossing a
football one day, and the cliche "history was born," seemed
appropriate. Our interview was about thirty minutes. Actually it was an
hour, as the phone in the house rang off the hook. Trevor apologized for
this. It wasn't his fault. I thanked him, and his parents along with
Rusty, and gave him my business card.

Stopping in a Krystal burger, I knew I had a good article to write.
Unlike some college students, he made completing this assignment a cinch.
Also he didn't feel the need to dress up either, as he wore blue jeans
and a Clemson t shirt. He was different. A bit unorthodox, and without
the ego I had falsely thought would be an issue. What a nice guy. I could
see he was very genuine, and got back to the Doubletree. A cup of coffee,
I started typing away on my laptop. This was done so often, that I
didn't need to look at the keys, to associate certain noises with a
keystroke. The old HP laptop was for sentimental reasons. I knocked out
the template, and emailed it to Sarah for approval or rejection. No doubt
this would be approved, and another solid interview with this much frenzy
around a player, could get me TV time or the book deal I dreamed of,

Sitting in my blue boxers, I took a beer out of the mini fridge. The
Stella Artois tasted refreshing. It's cool temperature was the opposite
of what was outside, when my cell phone beeped. I put on my reading
glasses for the little LG screen and it said "this is Trevor, and
you're hot." I laughed. Sarah was playing a joke on me. Another beep,
"Terry can I visit you at the Doubletree?". No way. A third beep "I'm
in the closet but I want you daddy." I called the number attached, about
to go off on the joker, when I heard the distinctive familiar voice. It
was him. Yes the #1 college football player found me sexy, and as we
talked I felt warm. My penis got really hard, as blood flow seemed
limited to there, and my head spun as Trevor invited himself over. "Room
239," was all I could blabber out. Half my age, built like Adonis, I
couldn't begin to imagine this was real. Was I asleep and having a
dream? That went away as there was a knock, and sure enough the big guy
with long hair walked in the room.

He stepped into my personal space, brushed back my hair, and kissed me.
"We have to keep this secret but I've got to have you." My knees
buckled. I was hard. The pheromones and hormones were off the charts as
he gave me passionate French kisses, and grabbed my rear and with his
Vice grip huge hands. His groin area was full, and I couldn't resist
stroking him there. Trevors brown eyes burned with intense zest. He
kissed me more, and I had my head pushed down. Instinctively I unbuckled
and zipped his jeans off, as they hit the floor. His bright orange briefs
were full. I put my hands in the band, and pulled out the biggest penis I
had ever seen. It must be nine inches. Taking his shaft in my mouth, I
watched him grin, and take his t shirt off. Oh my his abs were so
defined. His hairy penis and balls in my mouth were incredible. It was if
two became one, as he literally was oozing precum in my mouth. Every bit
of my taste buds enjoyed his sugary sweet DNA. He moaned more as I licked
his gigantic testicles. Soon he was on the bed instantaneously, and I was
giving him head more passionately than I ever had before. His musky
masculine scent enveloped me, and it made me so hard turning him on.

Soon we were kissing again, and he ripped my trousers off. I was naked.
He massaged my penis and balls too, and those monster sized hands started
to penetrate my tight hole. It was if his fingers hit my g spot like a
door bell, as waves of pulsating pleasure in his long thick fingers had
me in rapture. Never was I so turned on, he was so sexy, exuded
confidence, and the smell of Armani code made me desire him. I didn't
hesitate when he told me to bend over in front of him. Even though the
size of his package scared me, how could I say no to someone I wanted so
much? His hands on my testes from behind was an amazing sensation, and
soon I heard him pull out a bottle of lube. That sound. Oh yes he had the
warning version too, and I could feel his index and ring fingers
penetrating me. Being violated by him was wonderful, and I begged him to
fuck me.

As he slid into my tightness, I gasped in astonishment. Never had I felt
a pulsating cock like his. It was going back and forth, entering my hole
gently, but gradually he was so deep I couldn't have cried for help.
Nothing but heavy breathing and my vocal cords didn't work, as I felt
his athletic hands grabbing my waist with a firm grip. He slapped my ass
cheeks, as he went balls deep inside of me. It was too much as tears went
down my eye sockets, yet I was smiling too, albeit with a bloody tongue
due to biting on it. I had bottomed plenty of times, but to be fucked
like an animal, this was new as Trevor had a sexual motor that just kept
charging away. He was on top of me now, kissing me and dropping the
hammer on what was left of me. I was mush in his hands, moaning as he
stroked my cock, that was feeling the effects of his big one in me.

My feet were on his shoulders. I couldn't take it anymore, as my fingers
grabbed the bedsheets. The warmth, the turn on of my g spot being
pounded, knowing this stud was deflowering me, I submitted to his manly
desires. Eventually the cataclysm built up, as the smell of sweat and sex
meshed together, and I just came everywhere. Sperm flew out and I
screamed in octaves never reached, as the intense zen like high was
amongst the best ever experienced. My penis continued to unload my ball
butter, and Trevor pounded me with determination and purpose. As I rode
him we kissed, and I could see him losing control. His balls started to
tighten up, and he shot his whole load of river capacity into my now
loosened up rear end. He moaned and screamed, and to be held down by his
strength and intensity was surreal.

As his cum rolled out of my insides, he kissed me. We hugged for awhile,
and told me, "I want you to keep this secret." I had no problem with
that, as he told me that once he went pro, he'd "take me out to dinner
and have me for dessert." This made me feel excited, and we kissed for
awhile, before he head out the door. As I slept, I dreamed of kissing
this stud in the prime of his life, and woke up to two smiles. One was
Trevor texting me "thank you and let's again," and on the computer
screen, I saw that Sarah had approved my article for publication. On my
emails, she had sent me a note, "you really got a lot of info on Trevor,
it's almost like you know him.Take three days off for a job well done."
I grabbed a beer, popped a couple aspirins as Trevor had jarred me loose,
and there was some pleasant pain. Turning on the television, the network
was showing his best plays, but I think ours was a lot better.