Article 5948 of alt.sex.motss:
Path: usenet.ins.cwru.edu!gatech!emory!ogicse!reed!spdcc!joe
From: joe@spdcc.com (Joseph Francis)
>Newsgroups: alt.sex.motss,soc.motss
Subject: Re: High School Athletes (lusher)
Message-ID: <1993Jan18.185628.27609@spdcc.com>
Date: 18 Jan 93 18:56:28 GMT
Article-I.D.: spdcc.1993Jan18.185628.27609
Organization: S.P. Dyer Computer Consulting, Cambridge MA
Lines: 123
Xref: usenet.ins.cwru.edu alt.sex.motss:2986 soc.motss:118838

The boys were all jacking off different ways - one gripping his cock
very hard and jerking very fast, another very lightly, most of the
boys were uncut, a few just had the faintest wisp of pubic hair. My
friend moved to walk away, but the couch held his shoulder against the
wall with his left hand, and told him he was "gonna get it." The boy
jacking off the slowest, with a big torpedo-like cock whose foreskin
never really pulled all the way back, started moving jerkily, and
thick gobs of spitlike cum shot out against my friends leg. He was
about to die of embarrasment. This shot was like a signal to the others,
but suddenly they all heard a voice - "What the Hell is going on here".

Coach Crumley. 6'5", deep brown-red hair, busy sideburms, thick hair
on his arms, wearing a thermal underwear shirt under a cutoff football
jersy, and sweatpants. "You guys should just leave these damn band
pussies alone. What you doin', jerkin' off on him? Sheeeit." The coach
walked on into the shower room, staying well away from the spigots on
the wall, "been look at them boys haven't you." Almost everyone had
stopped jacking off, but their pricks were still standing up stiffly.
Crumley said "Now I want yew bahways to let this heer band fag jack
off with the big fellers. C'mon now, don't be shah." He folded his big
arms across his chest. "Go on, git them wet clothes awf." My friend
was nervous, but coach hicks took his hand off his shoulders, and he
reluctantly pulled his shirt off. He was nervous about taking down his
pants, but they all yelled at him to "come awn", so he dropped them.

They were all quiet for a moment. My friend's cock isn't that thick,
but it is very long - the band used to tease him, and his nickname was
footlong. It caused problems in the summer, when he wore shorts, so he
got to wearing two jockstraps to keep everthing pulled in. And his
balls - they were like big gooseggs, which didn't help matters none.
The others stood silently looking at his big ole snake - it had poked
down out of the side of his wet white jockey shorts, and lay against
his leg, straining up with a big red shiny head at the tip. Coach
Crumley said "wheeeeew eeee. Loookee at that peter. Got him one huh?
No band pussies got a tallywhacker lak thaht".  He pulled down his
underwear, letting his cock snap up against his soft belly, he felt
soggy next to these athletes who were lookin on him with new respect.
Even Hicks grunted "lets get awh with it."

The boys each started jacking off, but more nervous that Crumley was
there. He walked out, and they all started jacking off, and my friend
put both hands around his cock, and jerked furiously. In a moment, he
heard another noise, and Crumley had walked back in - he had just
walked out to take off his clothes. He was more massive than he could
have imagined - the thick reddish hair that matted his arms completely
covered his square chest, except for the dark brown, almost black
nipples. His belly was trim, but thick, and covered with more fur, as
were his legs, and big meaty ass. His cock was an angry red color, and
stupendously veined, and started thickening quickly as he pulled back
the foreskin. The flaps of skin around it, laying like the folds of an
accordion, started filling up, and soon it had curved up a bit to the
left, and looked like it would hurt someone - it had to be at least
10-1/2 inches, maybe 11, who knows, more. His thick reddish bush
started low below his belly, and covered maybe a few inches of the
base of his cock too. He was just a huge hairy monster standing there
in front of them. The other boys looked at Hicks, who was standing,
glaring at Crumleys cock, and the short stubby fingers he couldn't
even wrap around it, and they all started wanking off again. The coach
and my friend stood opposite each other, and four guys on either side
of them made a circle, and the coach laughed after a bit and said
"Elma ain't gonna believe one bit uh theeus."

The two boy's immediately on my friend's sides had their eyes glued on
his cock, and he couldn't decide which to stare at of theirs. The one
on the left, a big, rough-boned senior, the one who had already come
but was hard again was a real sight. He had big legs, covered with
hair, but a strangely hairless torso. His pale pinkish skin was
stretched tight across his taut heaving belly, his biceps flexing as
he jerked his cock in a nervous rhythm, his small hard nipples like
buttons on his boy/man chest, not quite filled out but powerful
nonetheless; a hint of scent from his armpits told the story as he got
more excited and sweat covered from the exertion. He gritted his
teeth, patterns of flexion under the peachfuzz-covered skin of his jaw
dancing.  His own cock was the torpedo, one that couldn't be skinned
back. The base was very, very thick, and like a highway road cone, it
tapered to a point. Ivory white skin covered it, with delicate pink
and blue traceries of bloodvessels. It was clearly the biggest of all
the boy's cocks, in mass at least, and with his big-boned muscular
hands around it, very succulent looking. He leaned over, embarrased,
"Ah didn't meayun to be suh, y'now, suh meayun tuh y'all; Ah jess
wants tuh know, kin I touch it?" With his free right hand, he reached
over and stroked the top part of my friends cock, the part not even
his two little hands could cover.  "Sheeeeit, That's a long 'un",
Coach Crumley said, watching the scene in front of him. The boy my
friend's left also reached over and wrapped his hand around the shaft,
then pulled quickly away.

That one was one of the linebackers. He was tremendously big, not so
tall but wide - the kids called him "The Can". He had shaggy blond
hair down to his shoulders in an ugly shag cut (called "Fag Shag Fag
Shag" in the showers, 'till he put a few lights out), huge smooth
arms, huge chest, pug nose, and a cock so fat he couldn't get his hand
around it.  Not so long, but with a head the size of a tennis ball,
and a long long overhang. His cock was another reason he was called
"The Can". He had a real long overhang, and he kept it pulled back as
best he could, but the skin was very loose, and strangely brown in
comparison with the rest of his body, which was freckled from summer
sun. He jerked off with a funny sort of circular motion, big muscular
legs set wide apart, leaning back slightly with his hips thrust
forward. He didn't look at the others much, just sort of stared up
straight at the ceiling, with his eyes closed in rapt concentration.

"Whose a-gonna shewt the furthest?" Crumley said. He was staring at
Hicks now, who was staring back. Hicks beautiful cattle-prod was
standing straight up and out, and he stopped jerking to sway his hips
back and forth, letting the cock slap against him, and he grinned and
said "Ah think Ah needs me someone tuh get it good'n'wet. Do
big-dicked band pussies still like to kiss a guy's peter?"  My
friend's cock grew even harder with excitement. He found himself
mesmerized by Hick's cock, and without thinking, he knelt down until
he was right in front of it. The circle pulled in tighter, and he
felt suddenly like he was in a forest of cocks. 

He reached up.

[There. Lusher, fuller detail, and with a promise of even more
frenzied debauchery]