Date: Wed, 4 May 2016 23:09:23 +0000 (UTC)
From: a4f101@yahoo.com
Subject: Our Commitment

Here's a story taken from my Tumblr, at a4f101.tumblr.com/storytime. You
can find this one, and the pic that inspired it, here:
http://a4f101.tumblr.com/post/116201650407/

This story is purely a work of adult erotic fantasy, copyright me 2016. I
own it and all legal rights to it. If you're under the age of majority in
your jursdiction, please come back when you're of legal age.

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*****

Coach was more than happy to have me come visit practice. I'd just wrapped
up my first season with the Steelers, and he felt like I'd be a real good
example to his team, my old team. God knows, they could use the uplift,
still rebuilding after all that scandal a few years back. I was there for
them, I was there for Coach, but most of all, I was there for Dylan.

Dylan had his pick of offers coming out of high school, but he'd committed
to Penn, wanted to follow in my footsteps. Now he was in his sophomore
year, still big and thick, but harder than he'd been back in high
school. He was playing at tight end now, not the linebacker he used to be,
and as far as I could see, he was killing it. Definitely killing it in the
weight room, a good bit of his bulk converted to muscle mass, big and
mobile, and yeah, sexy as fuck too. He'd really grown into himself, his
looks, and I knew he'd have the girls swarming around him even more than he
used to. Just like I did. And just like me, well, that wasn't a priority
for him.

The kid had always kind of idolized me, his big, High School
Heisman-winning brother, and once he'd hit his teens and really started to
get serious about playing, once he could see a future for himself in the
pros, once he started to get the kind of focus, dedication and commitment
it would take, he got on board, and really started to look to me for
guidance. Guidance I was only too happy to give. We worked out together,
ran drills, studied playbooks, cheered each other on, built each other
up. Lifted each other up. And when he was around 16, when I noticed that he
wasn't dating, I took him aside for a quiet talk. Coaxed it out of him. His
fears that who he really was, what he really felt about his teammates, his
Coach, my friends, would kill his career before it even started. I knew
what he meant. I'd been there myself. I knew what he needed, deep inside,
how it burned and scratched and pulled at him, a big, healthy young man
reaching his sexual prime. I was still contending with all that myself as
my college playing career got rolling. The look of recognition, of sheer
relief when I told him just how well I understood pulled at my heart. And
then he confessed, all red-faced and shy, that sometimes I was one of those
guys he had those feelings about, and I couldn't help myself. I pulled the
big, scared, handsome young linebacker into my college-boy arms, my little
brother, and I kissed him.

That was the start of it, where our commitment to each other really kicked
in. We continued keeping each other on track, keeping each other motivated
and pumped up, even though I was up in University Park. And whenever I
could find the time, I got in my Jeep and drove the three hours home, and
pulled my little brother into my arms and made love to him. Burned off some
of the furious desire that had built up inside us both. We were each
other's outlet, and it worked for us. Brought us even closer, removed a big
distraction and kept our eyes on the prize.

Here was the proof, 210 pounds of big, sweaty teenager, wearing one of my
old practice shirts, soaked through with his sweat. The sight of that, of
him, of his thick, hard muscles brought a thrill to me, and I had to watch
myself, or I'd be showing hard in a big way. He finished his sprint, big
arms up behind his head as he breathed hard, and then he looked over,
happened to see me there, and broke out in a huge grin. He kept his focus
through the rest of the workout, but I'd see him sneaking glances at me. I
just grinned, shook my head, pointed at the field, and he got the
message. Mock-saluted and got back to work.

"Dude, you didn't tell me you were coming!" he grinned, running up to me
after practice with his bag slung over his shoulder, my old shirt and his
shorts molded to his big, muscular body still with his sweat. We slammed
into a deep, back-slapping hug, the tang of his fresh sweat enveloping us,
and I let him feel the gentle throb in my shorts. He grunted quietly, and I
felt his big cock twitch against me too.

"You smell fucking good, stud," I murmured in his ear, and he grunted
again. "Come on... I've got a sweet room at the Hilton."

His hand found mine over the console of the BMW as we drove, and we talked
idly about this and that, but really, no words were needed. We were
together again, and everything else could melt away. Melt away like our
clothes, as we embraced in the little entryway to my room, our lips finding
each other, already panting with desire. He moaned hungrily when he
stripped my T-shirt off, leaning in to lick and chew on my big pro muscles,
fumbling with the fly of my shorts, pulling my underwear-clad ass tightly
into him as we kissed again, deep and wet and sloppy. Hungry. He'd been
like this for me ever since I'd taken his cherry that night back when he
was 16. I felt just as deep for him, as I slid my old, sweaty shirt off his
big torso, peeled his sweat-soaked practice shorts off, and marveled at the
sight of him, his bigness, his power, his athleticism as he stood proudly
in his sweaty jock for his big brother to admire him.

And admire him I did. I looked, touched, stroked, tasted him, making him
moan and throb even harder against me. I pushed him back on the bed, his
arms up behind his head, and slowly, lovingly lapped the sweat from his
deep pits, before kissing him, feeding him his own taste as he growled
hungrily, hunching his hard bulge up against mine. Then I rolled him over
and started in on that side, lapping and stroking my way up his lusciously
muscled college jock body, all big and powerful now, working from ankle to
neck, then leaning in to kiss his jock-framed cheeks as he writhed against
the bedspread. Big, creamy, powerful tight globes, a true tight end indeed,
salty with sweat and jock teen musk in the deep, fur-lined cleft. He tasted
amazing, had me leaking in my shorts, and when he flexed that blue-ribbon
ass as I parted his cheeks even more to lap my way up and down my trench, I
wanted to fuck him right there and then.

But no. Like I'd taught him, it's all about priorities, about doing the job
right from the get-go, and I focused my attention and my tongue on that
tight, humid pucker, ringed with sweat-damp fur, and filled my mouth with
his sharp, secret taste. Moaned and flowed spit inside of him, lost myself
in his warm depths for a good ten, fifteen minutes. Then I came up for air,
my face wet with spit and sweat, and lick-kissed my way up his spine, over
the delta of muscle flaring out from his waist.

"You taste even better than I remember, baby brother," I murmured against
his ear, and was surprised to hear a deep, loud snore in reply. I stared at
the back of his head for a minute, surprised, then started to
laugh. Practice really had taken it out of him, and I guess a long, slow,
deep tongue bath from his big bro was maybe a little too relaxing. I kissed
his cheek softly, rubbed his back, and let the big young jock get the rest
his body needed.

Three hours later, I was kicked back in the armchair, reading a book, when
I heard him yawn. I smiled up at him as he stood, stretched, muscles
flexing beautifully all over him, his jock pouch still crammed full of big,
half-hard teenage cock. He smiled sheepishly at me as he padded over to my
chair, and I grunted at the weight of him as he straddled my lap, leaned in
and kissed me. Softly at first, then slowly deeper, more intimate.

"Sorry, bro," he murmured against my lips. "Guess I was more beat than I
thought. Hate that I missed all that time with you, stud."

I grinned, ruffled his short hair, kissed him back, my hands rubbing up and
down the thick, hard muscles of his spread thighs. Felt his cock growing
back to full hardness, just like mine was.

"We got plenty of time, big guy," I said between slow, building
kisses. "You know I'm here for you as long as you need me to be, baby
brother."

He grinned, thrust his big, overstuffed pouch against mine slowly,
rhythmically.

"You always were, and I fuckin' love you for it, man," he smiled. "I love
you. And now I'm all rested up, let's not waste any more time, yeah?"

"I love you too, brother, always," I said, sliding my hands up over the
straps of his jock to cup his big, muscular cheeks, feeling him flex them
in my paws as I stroked, squeezed, then spread them. The ass of a future
champion, destined to be admired by thousands, clad in tight NFL pants. And
admired most of all by me. "Now, where were we?"