Date: Fri, 17 Feb 2023 14:32:24 +0000 From: Dod Kelevra Subject: Football Boys and Chosen Family chapter 2 Disclaimer: The following is a story of a homosexual nature and is sexually suggestive, if not explicit. Please do not read if you are a minor or if it is illegal where you live to do so. Use protection and get vaccinated. Remember to think smart to play smart. Help the Nifty Archive continue to provide a home for erotic fiction. Consider donating by going to http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html. Thank you. Football Boys and Chosen Family Chapter 2: Settling in This was it--the last box. I had spent the previous two days unpacking one or two boxes. When they were empty, I would put the box in the living room and break them down at the end of the day. Unpacking was surprisingly emotional, especially when I encountered pictures; of middle school friends, holidays, or family I couldn't contact right now; all of them triggered a strange spot in my gut. It was also amazing just how much trash was in these boxes: homework assignments that were partially done, schedules and notes to myself, plus notebooks of partial journals. The urge to bury myself in those journals was high, but I somehow managed to keep myself moving enough to get all the boxes unpacked and sorted in the furniture Blake and Maria had bought me. I was breaking down the last of the boxes I had tossed into the living room when Blake excitedly came into the house. "Damn sport! Those the last ones?" He asked "Yup. As of today, I am fully unpacked." "Good job! Bring it in!" While pulling me into a hug, he told me, "I'm so proud of you, sport." I melted into him. I was still a little anxious about being touched, but hearing him say he was proud of me made those feelings disappear. "So what's got you in such a good mood," I asked him as we separated. "Got a call today! You are officially on the football team." "Wait, what! Does he know what I'm going to be playing?' I asked, excited to be trying something new "You are definitely on the offensive; dunno if he wants you as a receiver or runner yet. I think that's going to be a next-week thing. But they want you on the team sport! That's got to feel good." I had to admit it did feel good. It also made me feel nervous. Was I only getting on the team because Coach B worked me through my first blowjob? Or was that just a bonus of being on the team? Each answer led to dangerous spots in my mind. "So since Maria is going to be having her girl's night tonight, I thought we could swing by and get the stuff coach says yer gonna need. I have a feeling you didn't get jockstraps and cups with her the other day." "We did not," I said with a laugh. "Coach Estes has a store he likes and recommends that his guys go to get fitted for cups and jocks. They have every kind and apparently ensure they fit right for each player's body. Was thinking we could go after I have a quick shower and change." "I'm down for that! Lemme finish breaking these boxes down, and I'll clean up too." "I'll try and leave you some hot water then, sport!" He started stripping off his clothes as he walked down the hall. He wasn't shy about showing off his body as he became more naked. Without Maria here to police him, Blake was basically a nudist. He didn't close the door behind him, and I got a perfect shot of his ass as he pulled off his underwear. I started to feel my boner rise as I was creeping again, seeing an adult ass. I hid my crotch behind a box until I heard the shower start. Come on, Justin, don't perv on the guy rescuing you from hell. Getting into some dirty trouble with Coach B was one thing, one incredibly hot thing. It just is not the same as Blake. You can't be doing this. He started to whistle in the shower, warning that he would start singing badly in a minute. I collapsed my last box, took them out to the big recycling can in the side yard, and took a chance to breathe and lower my anxiety about perving over my foster dad. When I walked back into the house, Blake was standing in the living room with a towel over his head, drying off his hair. His muscled naked body was in full view. I gulped as hard as possible, feeling blood moving into my cock. When he saw me, he just smiled at my condition. "You ok, Justin?" "Yeah," I said, clearly distracted. "Well, go take yer shower; you smell like a pig." I sniffed my armpits, and while the scent was intense, it wasn't altogether bad. I could see Blake's dick flexing a bit when I did that. That made me wonder if Coach B had told him about our little encounter at the park. If he did and was standing in front of me naked, then Coach B was right. He wouldn't care. If he didn't, and Blake was still standing like this in front of me, I could see why Coach B said it wouldn't be an issue. A wave of confidence hit me as I began to strip off my clothes at the threshold of the living room. Blake's eyes locked onto my waistband as my shorts slowly came down my thighs. When they got low enough, there was an audible smack from my erect teen meat getting freed and smacking my stomach. His dick got thicker as he watched me. When I was standing naked in front of him, he took his towel and put it on my hard cock, it staying suspended like it was on a towel rack. "Take that back to the bathroom for me, would ya," he said with a shit-eating grin. I just shook my head and laughed. As I walked by him, he smacked my ass. This feeling of camaraderie was something I had only felt at the group home while showering. "And get a move on; I wanna enjoy our guys' night as much as we can while getting you ready for next week." He said, following me down the hall. I entered the hall bathroom as he walked into his and Maria's bedroom. I hung his towel up and pulled my towel off the rack. While I waited for the hot water to make it to my shower head, I took in this change. The new energy from Blake was something else. Was it him trying to welcome me into the brotherhood of jocks, or did he want something more? When the shower started to steam, I stepped inside. The warm water worked to loosen my tension, lessen my lingering doubts, and remove the soreness from sitting in odd positions unpacking. While it's possible Blake and Maria could have had me naturally, their relationship timeframe didn't work for it. It was bizarre being their "trial run" of having kids. But it was infinitely better than the group home or living with my dad. As I soaped up my body, my mind drifted back to Blake and Coach B. My soapy fist found my rapidly growing bone and began to stroke, thinking of Blake saying "atta boy" while I ate his pits. A knock at the door broke me from my horny reverie. Fuck... busted. "Hey, sport, don't take too long; they close a little earlier than I expected, so it might be a little tight," Blake said, poking his head into the bathroom. "That can wait," he finished with a wink after making eye contact with my soapy hard cock. I quickly rinsed off the soap and embarrassment and started to dry off. When I got to my room, I realized I had no idea what I was in for. Maria did a great job outfitting me, but I needed to figure out when to wear what. This confusion mixed with some of my newfound confidence. "Hey Blake," I yelled, standing naked in my room. "What's up, sport?" He asked, walking into my room in running shorts that went halfway down his thighs and left little of his backside to the imagination. "You just answered my question," I told him, grabbing a similar pair and sliding them on, attempting to hide my boner, still begging for attention. "That gonna fit in those?" Blake asked while pulling on a tight-fitting shirt. "It'll go down in the truck," I answered hopefully. "Wear a looser shirt in case it doesn't; you can tuck it up in the waistband," he told me with a wink and a tone of knowing what it's like to have an unruly boner. We threw our running shoes on and jumped into the truck, my boner finding its way out of one of my left leg hole. Once we had backed out of the garage and were on our way, Blake put his hand on my knee just like he had on our way back from school registration. The difference now was that his arm was painfully close to touching my boner. I could swear I felt his hair brush along my head, but I could have imagined it or wished for it. I used every bit of my willpower to control my breathing and will my boner into softness. It started to work until we hit a pothole, and Blake's arm firmly made contact with my cock. Instead of pulling away, Blake maintained contact at my knee and dick. He began to absentmindedly rub up my leg, heading towards my cock, his arm firmly rubbing my painfully hard hog, his arm hair tickling the head. It was weird, though; the horny anticipation of it all was utterly canceling out any of my anxiety from being touched. "Hey, Blake," I said, using the last of my courage. "Yeah, sport?" "You aren't helping it go down," I told him. "Shit, sorry sport." He responded, pulling his hand and arm away. A string of clear liquid connected my meat and his arm hair for a few seconds before it snapped. "Damn, kiddo, you painted the hair with a ton of pre." "Pre?" "The clear stuff that's coming out of your dick. What's got you so turned on?" "I guess I'm just excited." I lied. I wasn't going to tell Blake that seeing him naked had me all bricked up. Not that he didn't already know, but I didn't want to tell my foster dad he was hot and turned me on. "Well, hopefully it won't be an issue for these guys," Blake said before licking the pre off his arm. Fucking hell. That made my meat pour out more as we pulled up to the store. It was one of the original buildings on the old main street before the big box stores pulled most of the shopping out near the highway. "Tuck it up in your waistband and think of baseball or something," he told me with a reassuring grin, "what I'm gonna have to do." He made a show of his fat dad cock in a similar predicament to mine, his meat snaking out of his shorts with his right leg. Fuck. I could feel more precum hit my hairless leg before I moved. We both maneuvered our hard cocks into our waistbands; Blake's tight-fitting shirt left almost nothing to the imagination. We stepped out of the truck into the warm evening. The cicadas were starting to sing in the distance as we walked into the store via the backdoor. The bell rang as we closed the door, and we walked into what felt like a wide hallway with a glass jeweler's case running almost the entire length. At the far end, near the front door, a computer desk and office chair finished the line that the glass case made. A well-built man that looked to be in his late 50s stood up at the sound of the bell and took a point near the register. Behind him were photos of many teams, thank you plaques, and signed jerseys from the town's history. "Good evening, gentlemen; what can I do ya for," the man said as we rounded the corner. "Hey there, I'm Blake, and this is my son Justin. We just got the news he's going to be starting football training next week, and his coach recommended this shop to get his cleats, cup, jock, and stuff." I jumped a bit at the casualness of him introducing me as his son. Not foster son, not step, not adoptive. Just son. An odd mix of emotions started to bubble up inside me. "Who's his coach," the man asked. "Estes," Blake answered with a bit of a grin. "Ahhh, he's gonna be one of them new Varks? Excellent." "Vark?" I asked, confused. "You will be playing for Estes at that new high school over on the east side of town, right? Their mascot is the aardvark, so yer gonna be a Vark. Just got their letter order, so I can start making the letters and patches to have enough for you when you get to varsity," the man said with pride. "Then yeah, I'm gonna be one of them new Varks, I guess," I said, looking into the case at all the letters and patches. "A pig... I can see it," Blake said, lifting his arm and showing a bit of his stiff cock shaft as his shirt rode up. "One to talk," I shot back at him, raising my arms to raise my shirt and show off the top of my cock. The shopkeeper looked excited to see us both showing off. "Hey Scotty, come up here. Gonna need your help. We are close enough to closing time, I think," he said, walking to and locking the front door out to the street. "Ok, Justin, Scott here is gonna get you set up with your starting gear for football. Estes wants the boys with the full setup. Blake, anything I can help ya with?" "I wouldn't mind getting a new jock for the gym myself if ya have them. Compression shorts are nice, but..." "They are missing something," the shopkeeper interrupted. "Yeah," Blake finished with a grin. "Y'all feel free to strip down and try stuff. I'll be up here when you are ready." He said, picking up a book and heading back to his chair in the corner. "Scott will sort you out." I hadn't noticed the younger man standing behind us until he spoke, "So I heard a football starter kit for the freshman?" "I gu.... Yeah," I said, slowly finding my confidence after being startled. "Ok kid, follow me. I'll get him sized, then help you size right for your jock, Sir," Scott told both of us. I followed Scott through a maze of clothing racks. The store had the distinct dankness you only get from wood paneling installed in an era when you could smoke indoors. When mixed with the sweat of generations of excited jocks getting their gear, it made for a heady aroma that wasn't helping my cock go down. The yellowed diffusers and deep blue institutional carpet made the store feel darker than it should with the number of lights, making everything feel more hidden. When we got to the back corner, he opened a small cabinet filled with a ton of small boxes and said, "Ok kid, strip down, and let's see what we are protecting." I pulled my shorts down a bit before taking my shirt off. My heavy bone dropped free of my shirt but stayed tall jutting perpendicular to my body as I kicked off my shoes and shorts. It was amazing; in the last three days, this was the fourth guy to see my 13-year-old boner at full mast. I stood in front of this stranger with my boner bobbing in the air with my heart rate as Blake stripped off his clothes. Scott finally turned his attention away from the cabinet to see us both in just our socks, boners at the ready. "Ok kid, what's your waist size," Scott said, never breaking eye contact with my teenage bone. "My pants are a 30," I replied while making my dick bounce. I could hear Blake say, "fuck," under his breath. This. This is why Coach B was so insistent that I was in the right place and that my fears were unfounded. Blake wasn't going to beat me for getting a boner or having sexual thoughts, especially with other dudes. He was going to approve and watch. The realization hit me like a freight train while I stood in only my socks in the dingy store. I stood with newfound confidence but also realized this was uncharted territory. My heart raced, and part of my brain told me to run away. The fight in my head had gotten my dick a bit softer when Scott handed me a white piece of cloth with an elastic strap. "You need help putting that on, sport?" Blake asked me. "Yeah," I answered honestly as my cock continued its retreat. Blake got on his knees in front of me, his face at the height of my dick. I held onto his shoulders as I lifted each foot and slid between the tiny straps. My cock was almost soft when he grabbed it to put it in the pouch. "How's that feel sport?" Blake asked while he moved my waistband around. "Fine, I guess; I don't really know what good or bad feels like in something like this." "So this is a small Duke. Good to about a 32-inch waist, but the pouch seems tight. Let's try a medium and see if that fits you well. Gonna have a bit more room for your junk and room for your waist to grow," Scott said, handing Blake another jockstrap. It took all of my willpower to stay soft as Blake pulled off the strap I was wearing. His face was close enough that I could feel his breath as we got it out from my feet and got the other one started. He slid it up my legs and looked pridefully at me with his blue eyes. "I think this one fits better in the pouch," Blake told Scott as he rubbed my now growing cock in the thin mesh of the jockstrap. I held onto his shoulders as I got hard again, stretching the pouch's material to the max as it fought to keep my bone firmly against my body. Blake had this proud look on his face as he slowly stroked his bone. If you had told me before we moved out here that I would be standing in a sports supply store while Blake slowly jerked off while rubbing my crotch in a jockstrap, I would have told you that you were crazy (after asking what a jockstrap was). But this felt so natural. Just a father figure proud of his son figure. My foster dad just taking care of his foster son. Doing the things my actual dad would beat me for. I started to cry a bit as my confidence collapsed under the weight of my memories. I looked down with teary eyes at Blake, and he stood up to hug me; his naked body embracing my mostly naked body for the first time. "You ok with all this sport? You say the word if you aren't," he told me quietly. "It's a lot... A good a lot... But still, a lot to take in," I told him softly, confidence in my voice gone. "Well, when yer ready, I'll tell Scott we can try a cup, then we can get you sorted for cleats. Don't forget you are driving this Sport. Any time you need to pump the brakes, let me know," he told me while holding me in his muscled arms. I felt safe. I felt protected. I felt like the luckiest guy in the world. Blake pulled back a bit, resting his forearms on my shoulders and staring directly at my face. "Feeling better?" He asked me gently. "Yeah, thank you, Blake. For all of it," I said as he wiped a tear away from my face. "Don't gotta thank me, sport; it's what we signed up for." He told me with a smile. Scott looked confused but was content to give us our space. As Blake pulled away, he asked Scott what size he should try of a jock to match mine. Scott got a big smile, handed him another medium, and winked at me while Blake put on the undersized strap. "Need a hand with that, Blake?" I asked him, my confidence returning. "Don't you start," he said with a laugh. "What? I just wanna help you out just like you did for me," I said, getting on my knees in front of him. This was pushing it, both for myself and for him. He held his breath as I reached out to adjust his junk in the pouch. When my fingers touched his cock through the material for the first time, you could almost hear the blood in his body start to move. His hog started to grow and stretch the undersized pouch until it was straining to hold him in. I continued to rub his nuts while he adjusted the position of his cock. "Got one a little bigger?" he asked, showing off his hardon hanging out of the side of the thin mesh. "Yeah, but I wanted to see you like that," Scott told him with an evil grin. "It's pretty nice up close," I said, looking up at Blake with admiration. Fuck. The first time I told him, I thought he was hot. FUCK FUCK FUCK. It was playful, but now he knows I have the hots for him. No reaction from him other than tussling my hair as Scott handed him another strap. I started to stand up when Blake handed the strap to me and said, "oh no, you're helping me JUST like I helped you." I got back on my knees and pulled off that jock. When his cock came free, it almost hit me in the face. It was so close I could feel its heat. Its smell. Holy shit, my old man had a nice cock. Wait, did I call him "old man" in my head? I used to call my dad "old man" before, well, everything. My mind raced at the implications as I slid the other jock up his furry legs, taking special care to run as much of my palms up and down them as possible. When I got his cock underneath the waistband, I was flustered for a moment. I looked up at Blake and grabbed his cock full-fisted to put it down into the pouch gently. "That looks like it's holding you in better," Scott said while I finished straightening the waistband. "Yeah, it does. Lemme get two of these for me; I think Justin here still needs a cup and some cleats." Blake said, staring at me on my knees in front of him. I could see a wet spot forming where the head of his cock was. "And a practice jersey, practice pants, and you know I got a whole list. Most of it is already pulled. I'm guessing a small-size t-shirt right?" I continued to stare up at Blake, taking in the sight of his hard cock and body from below. "Justin, you ok, sport?" He asked me "Yeah," I answered, breaking out of my reverie. "Man asked you a question," he said, tussling my hair. "Sorry, man, what did you need?" "Shirt size," Scott said, laughing. "Small" "Get him a medium; three meals a day is adding muscle to him quick," Blake said, staring down at me on my knees in front of him. "What's his shoe size?" "8," I answered, still on my knees, feeling like I was in the right place. I stayed on my knees for another minute until Scott returned shirtless with a big black duffle bag on his shoulder. His other shoulder had two olive green jerseys draped over it. I got up and looked into the duffle bag filled with pants, pads, cleats, and various other things. "I'm sure your dad can show you what most of this is, but coach says he wants y'all to bring everything on Monday, so it's all in your bag. I grabbed a small and a medium jersey so we can see which fits you better with your pads on," Scott said, now just standing in thin gym shorts. "Wait, we are putting him in pads now?" Blake asked. "And a helmet," Scott finished. I looked back, and Blakes's eyes started to glaze, and his pouch seemed even tighter than when I was on my knees in front of him. "Ok, kid grab those pads and put em on," Scott said. "I got you, sport," Blake said, stepping up to help me get them on correctly. "Ok, let's definitely give him the medium," Scott said, seeing my shoulders in the pads. Blake helped slide the shirt on me as Scott went to grab a helmet. He returned with two grey helmets with white face mask grids. He handed the larger one to me. "Ok, let's see how that fits on you." I pulled the helmet on, and Blake helped me lock the chinstrap. Suddenly Scott grabbed the helmet and tried to slide it around my head. "Fits right; what do you think dad, happy with your son in gear like this" Scott asked Blake. "More than you know." Scott wrote some stuff down on a piece of paper and threw a few boxes into the bag while Blake looked hungrily at me in my football gear, both our cocks flexing and pumping pre into our jocks. It was crazy the way my thoughts were racing; him in just a jock was so goddamn hot, and him hard for me was even hotter. Every time I saw the wet spot get bigger, some part of my brain wanted me to taste it. That got me harder and my wet spot grow, which got him harder and his wet spot grow. This fucked up feedback loop was going to short out my brain. "Ok kid, let's get you sized for a cup and get you outta here so we can clean up. Dad, you go ahead and strip off too, so I can get those loaners back," Scott said, breaking the loop. Loaners. Wait, the jocks Blake and I were currently using as pre towels were loaners. The shock was evident on our faces. "Oh don't worry, you are hardly the first father and son team to soak these getting off on each other," Scott said casually. Holy shit, maybe I wasn't a freak for getting off on Blake. Maybe this was more normal than my dad's shitty fundamentalist ideas led me to believe. Blake undid my chin strap, and I tossed my helmet into the bag. "This a loaner too?" I asked Scott as I took off my Jersey, paying attention to the growing tent in his shorts as mine deflated. "No, that's yours," he said, helping me when I got trapped due to not having the range of motion with the pads on. When I finally got all my gear in the bag and stripped off my jock, Scott already had a different strap for me to put on. This one had a weird extra flap of material and some snaps at the top. "Slide this one on, and then we will put this in," he said, grabbing the plastic protector. I adjusted everything to fit snugly, and Scott stepped up to me. This is my favorite part," he told me as he slid the protector into the strap. His fingers played across my balls and pubes as he adjusted the protector in the strap. When he was happy, he knocked on it like a door. "How's that feel?" he asked me. "Don't feel much of it," I answered. His tent grew, and he hit the cup harder "how bout that?" "Still ok," I said, expecting to feel more than I did. "Good, good," he said before hitting my cup even harder. I definitely felt that, but not in my junk, just around it. "Yeah, that hurt a bit." "Ok, and how does your junk feel?" he asked me "Fine, it hurt around it." "Good, I'll toss one of those in for you. That should be it," Scott said while getting on his knees in front of me. He pulled the plastic protector out and stripped off my cup before moving my balls around. "What are you looking for?" I asked him while my dick rose again to full hardness. "Seeing if you pinched and just didn't feel it, but it looks good," he said, his bloated older teen meat sliding out of the leg of his shorts. Fuck. Watching Scott's drip pre made me want to taste it too. What the fuck. My head started to spin. What was going on with me? I just got sucked by a guy; I'm not gay. Blake saw the change in me. "Why don't you get dressed while we settle up," Blake told me as he pulled his shorts back up. "Yeah, ok," I said, grabbing my shorts to pull back on. "You ok, kid?" Scott asked, handing the paper to Blake. "Yeah, just confused." "Don't worry about it, bud; it happens to freshies. This especially happens to first-time sports freshies. Yer dad will help you through it," Scott said while hanging our soaked jockstraps up to dry. "Well, thanks, man," I said, heading to the front of the store. Blake sent me to the truck with the big black duffle bag with all the equipment while he settled up with the older man. It was weird; I saw Blake in a totally different light. I knew he was a traditionally attractive guy, but why was I attracted to him? Why was I suddenly so entranced? By my foster dad, of all people! For fucks sake, I liked girls... right? Did I actually like girls? I mean, in theory, I liked girls. But I had my dick sucked by a guy, buried my face in one of my coach's armpits, and got off watching my foster dad hard. "How this place stays in business is a mystery to me. We would have paid easily five times that getting your gear in a big box," Blake said while climbing into the truck and starting it up. "I'm proud of you, you know," he said, letting the truck idle and the AC kick in. "For what?" I asked him. "Coming out of your armor a bit. You know, being on the team wasn't all I talked to Coach B about?" I could feel myself shrinking, trying to hide in the passenger seat leather. "I'm so proud of you for letting go of some of the fear from your old dad and embracing your freedom to express yourself. I'm proud of you for letting go end embracing joy. I'm proud you trusted a friend of mine to guide you through it. I'm proud of you for expressing your fears about it. That said, I was a bit hurt to hear that you thought we would kick you out for being sexually active or sexually expressive. I know it's a trauma response, but I still want you to know that it would take a long runway of warnings before we get rid of you." My chest was going to cave in. Blake reached over, grabbed my hand, and stared into my teary eyes. "What do you say you and I watch some dumb movies and eat pizza rolls? You and I need to have some bro time. Plus, we can break in our new jocks hanging out." "Yeah... sounds good," I croaked out as he put the truck in gear to head home. By the time we pulled into the garage, I had mostly gotten my crying under control. Blake held my hand the entire time, always squeezing back when I needed that extra bit of support. "Why don't you leave most of that out here and just bring in the straps?" He said as we pulled into the garage. "Tomorrow, you can organize it all. I'll make sure it's on the chore list, so Maria doesn't overload you." I forced a smile and dropped the big black duffle bag off by the door into the house. I opened it up, pulled out the shock doctor and duke boxes, and followed Blake into the house. When I got to the kitchen, Blake was already standing in just his jockstrap, bent over, looking into the freezer. "So you still in for jockstrap bro time, junk food, and bad movies?" He asked me, standing up with the bag of pizza rolls in his hand. "Fuck yes," I answered before my shame could get in the way. "Well, strip down and strap up, sport! Go find something on tv while I put these in the air fryer." I shucked off my shorts and shirt and tore into one of the boxes. I pulled on my duke strap as I made my way to the living room. I scrolled through the various streaming services absentmindedly, finally settling on a weird marvel movie. I looked back into the kitchen to see Blake just staring at me. "What" "When I first met you at the group home two months ago, I had hoped but still never thought I would see you excited to play football, much less standing in just a jock wanting to do jock bro hangout time." I smiled "you know, when I met you at the group home, I didn't think I would be standing in a living room in a jockstrap either. I don't think I knew what a jockstrap was until I met you." "Well, you got a movie set up, sport?" "Yeah, all setup." "Rolls have another couple minutes; why don't you grab some towels and put em on the couch? The last thing we need is Maria yelling at us for making her couch smell like our balls." "Cool, I'll add more towels to my laundry tomorrow," I joked as I walked to the linen closet to grab towels. "Hey now, I wasn't gonna put that on your chore list," he yelled back from the kitchen. I just laughed. This was so easy. I wasn't looking over my shoulder or flinching that a joke would be taken wrong. I could joke without fear that Blake would pull his belt out and... I laid the towels on the couch as Blake came out with a plate of pizza rolls with a cup of something next to them. "What is that" "Ranch!" He answered excitedly while I stared at him, confused, "listen, you can take the boy out of the midwest, but some things are sacred. Ranch and pizza is one of them." "Whatever you say, pops," I said, sitting next to him on the couch as he lay out on the chaise section. I started the movie, and he put his arm around me. About 10 minutes later, we polished off the pizza rolls and sat cuddling. That's when I caught it, the same intoxicating thing as with Coach B. Blake had washed all his deodorant off in the shower and didn't put any on to get gear. His musk was intoxicating as I moved my body to lean lower, trying to bury my face in there without burying my face in there. Blake saw through it reasonably quickly. "You know Brian told me you got off in his pit. You want some of yer old man's?" He asked, flipping the name I started calling him today. I just looked up at him, my brain suddenly unable to string words together. "Yeah, you do sport; go on get in there," he said, putting his hand behind his head. On the one hand, all I wanted to do was bury my face in his pit. On the other, this was fucking Blake! This was the closest thing I had to a positive father figure in my life. Was I seriously going to cross this line with him? He could almost see the gears turning in my head. "You ok, sport?" He asked, putting his arm back down. "Yeah, I just don't know..." Before I even could finish the sentence, he had me in a hug. "Justin, sport, you don't have to do anything," he said into my ear while hugging me, "I'm so sorry if I pressed you further than you wanted, sport." "It's not that" I started to cry, saying, "I want to do it more than anything right now. I just can't help being so scared." I thought of my friend Phillip in the 3rd grade showing each other our dicks, "Im scared of you reacting to what I want." I remembered my dad's belt hitting my back, "I'm scared of how I will react. I'm scared of who I am," I said as my words gave way to sobs. "Sport, it's ok; I'm here. I'm here, kiddo; I got you." Blake said as my feelings and fears consumed me into body-wracking sobs. I must have fallen asleep in his arms because I woke up near the end fight of the movie with my head on Blake's stomach. His arm was on my shoulder, and his other hand was on my head. His rhythmic breathing told me he was asleep. I lay feeling safer than I had in a long time. This time not just safe from outside threats but from my own head. I told Blake I was afraid of who I was. Who was this person I was scared of? I thought back to every time I looked at a guy and got turned on; why was I so scared of that? Was it society, was it my dad, was it his fundamentalism? If it was the society where we were, we aren't there now. We moved far away from that city. Scott even said some dads and sons get hard looking at each other in the sports store! My dad and his fundamentalism couldn't hurt me here. So what was I actually afraid of? "How ya feeling sport?" Blake asked, slowly waking back up. "Better. I'm sorry for ruining your jock hangout." "You didn't ruin a damn thing. I got to be your pillow for you to come to after a breakdown. I've always wanted to be used as a pillow by my kid, make `em feel safe. So thank you for letting me do that for you," Blake told me, finally explaining how excited he is to be a dad, even if it's just for me. "But I'm not your kid; this is all temporary," I said, too scared to look at his reaction. "Well, you are my kid until your mom figures out what she's doing." He said after a long pause. I just cuddled into him. This fucking guy. Maria was the luckiest damn lady. I was the luckiest kid at the damn group home for getting assigned this couple as a long-term foster. "Do you like being my kid, even if it's temporary?" Blake asked me. "Yes. I wished I had a dad like you my whole life. Now that I do, I'm the luckiest guy in the world." That's what I was afraid of. That this would end when my mom figured out what she was doing to get away from my dad; that feeling at the back of my head that I couldn't shake was that all this growth would be lost. The fear that I might not even get to do the new things I'm doing now. That I might have to move back to the city, where my mom could find work. "I don't want to lose you, Blake," I finally said, tears returning to my eyes. "I'm here as long as you need sport." He told me, rubbing my back. I closed my eyes and started rubbing his leg in response while I rode this wave of emotion. After a few minutes, my eyes were dry again, but I kept rubbing his leg, working closer and closer to where I was. I heard Blake groan and shift. When I opened my eyes, it was right there, his hard cock stuck in his jockstrap. My mouth started to water. Fuck, could I really do this? The gears in my head started to spin as I worked my hand up to his hip. I hesitated to go further. "Sport, you are driving; go as far as you like," he told me. I went for broke and rubbed the outside of his jockstrap, dipping my finger in the wet patch at the tip. Every time my fingers ran up his shaft, the wet spot grew. God yes. This is what I wanted. That part of my brain that wanted to taste it only got more assertive, and my mouth started to water at the thought of tasting his pre. "You sure I can go as far as I like?" I asked him, almost shaking. "Sport, I'm along for the ride. Just stop if I tell ya." I lifted my head and licked the wet spot in his jockstrap. My mind rushed with the sensation and taste as the parts of my brain telling me to stop went silent. "Oh fuck yes, sport." That was all the encouragement I needed; I licked the entire length of his jock pouch until it was soaked with my spit. I felt Blakes's hand reach down to the back of my head as I moved up and down his bloated bulge, sucking all of the pre out of his soaked jock pouch. "You want to try it without the jock?" He asked when there was enough spit in it that you could probably wring it out. My brain was no longer working enough to form words, so I nodded. He pulled off his jock, and I was confronted by Blake's naked cock, hard and dripping. He reached down and tugged his nuts while I watched the drops of pre become a river down his steel rod. I reached out and stroked it several times until the head was soaked with pre before I dove down and sucked his head into my mouth. "God damn, son, that's what I'm talking about!" The heady aroma of his nuts, plus the taste of his pre and cock was making me almost drunk. The encouragement was enough to make me say fuck it and let go of my restraint. There was no more question. I wanted to put as much of Blake's cock into me as possible. I moved up and down, working more and more of his meat into my mouth. "Easy, son, let's make this easier for you. Go ahead and sit on the ground right in the center of the couch," he said, pulling his meat out of my mouth and moving the coffee table. I sat on the floor in front of him as he stood there. His hard cock in my face, rippled body on display, and gentile face looking down with something I hadn't seen before. I felt so small there but so taken care of. "Go for it, son. Make sure to watch the teeth." I shoved as much of that cock back into my mouth as possible, trying not to scrape my teeth along its impressive girth. I moved back to my knees like I was in the store. My jaw was stretched to the limit, but I didn't care. I was a beast, an animal needing one thing: dick. The head of his cock was hitting the back of my throat and making me gag. Then I remembered what one of my friends at the group home said so they didn't cough and gag at the county doctors, squeeze your thumb. I tried it, and after a few attempts, I felt his head enter my throat. "Holy fuck, son, are you..." He trailed off as I did it again, let it in my throat, and pulled out. Holy fuck, that felt amazing; his cock somehow got even more rigid as I did it. This must be what that guy at the park was doing to my meat. I kept working up and down Blake's cock until I decided that I wanted, no needed, to bury my nose at the base. Get the entire thing in there. I was pulling out to breathe less and working my meat in as my eyes became hard to focus. Blake pushed my head off his cock, and I caught my breath, "son, don't choke yourself on it. Just enjoy yourself." "I am," I managed to grunt, my face covered in my spit as my chest heaved. When I felt good enough, I shoved his cock back into my throat without warning, this time finally burying it to the hilt. "Holy fuck, son!" Blake screamed while grabbing both sides of my head, "oh god, son, yes." He worked his cock in and out of my mouth and throat while I worked on breathing. "Oh fuck son, I'm going to cum. Do you want me to pull out" I shook my head no; I needed this. I needed Blake to mark me as his. He kept thrusting until the thrusts became inconsistent, and I took over, moving my head. I could feel his balls tightening and his dick becoming thick and rigid until I tasted something incredible. This sweet, salty insanity came out in massive waves, faster than I could swallow. I had to pull off before I drowned. "Oh god. Fuck son," he said, shooting his last three shots across my face. "Holy fuck. Son. You ok?" I nodded my head. "Stay there. Are you ok with me showing Brian this?" I nodded again as he called Coach B on FaceTime. "What's up, Rivera," "Something awesome; wanna see my son?" "Uhh, sure," Coach B said, confused. Blake flipped the camera around, and I heard, "oh fuck yes." "He swallowed the whole thing. Just thought I would thank you before I go return the favor for him," Blake told Coach B. "Well, thank you. Let me know if you want to share, and he wants to be shared." Coach B said excitedly "Will do, bro. Talk to you later," Blake said, ending the call and tossing it onto the couch. I stayed on my knees in front of him, covered in his cum, while he stared down at me with pride. "Do you think if I swallow enough of it, we can claim you as my actual dad?" I said, brain finally returning to normal. Blake just laughed as his dick flexed at the thought. "Let's get you cleaned up, son," he said, picking up the towel I was lying on when I was on the couch. He helped me up and wiped his rapidly drying cum off my face. "Grab the other towel and follow me, kiddo; Maria won't be home for a few more hours, and I definitely need to teach you some Rivera family traditions," he said, leading me to the bedroom. I was the happiest I think I had ever been.