Date: Wed, 17 May 2017 01:42:22 +0000 (UTC) From: Hot for Dads Subject: Sporting Woody, Part 2 (gay/incest) This is adult FICTION. It is not intended to encourage or condone any similar activities in the real world. It is merely ENTERTAINMENT, for which Nifty could use your donations! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html. Don't read this story if you're not old enough for this stuff, if m/m stories offend you, or if "family fun" isn't your kind of fantasy. On the other hand, if that's what you're looking for, then unzip and get busy! SPORTING WOODY PART 2 My parents wanted to get divorced. Fine. But why did they have to screw up my life as well as their own. Just when I'd found someone to teach me all about man sex, my feuding parents forced me to move. If I'd stuck around, I'm sure I could have worked out the problems related to that particular man, Mr. Booker, also being my best friend Barry's dad. As it was, Mr. Booker and I had only gotten as far as swapping blowjobs and cum before I found myself exiled to my own dad's hometown in the Midwest. Of course, I was glad to see my grandparents, who were somewhere in their late 50s and had agreed to put us up while Dad looked for a job and found us our own place to live. But that didn't wipe away the anger over not being able to finish high school with all my old friends and play basketball with my old teammates. My grandparents did their best to make me welcome, but I chose to spend the first Saturday morning just brooding alone in my temporary bedroom. Nothing they could say or do was able to wipe out the frustration of being cut off from man sex almost before it had started. But it had started! I could still remember what it felt like to suck on Mr. Brook's engorged cock. I could still remember what his hot cum tasted like as it filled my mouth and slid smoothly down my throat. Lying there on my bed, I closed my eyes and reveled in those memories of my one man-on-man experience. I pulled my T-shirt up with one hand to expose my flat, muscular belly, and then I slid my other hand into my jeans to fondle my semihard and growing cock. I pinched a nipple, and my mouth dropped open in a silent moan. I licked my lips and imagined a hard, warm cock sliding between them. Feeding me. Filling me. My cock got harder and harder and longer and longer. The increasing tightness of my jeans became unbearable. I reluctantly yanked my hand away from my cock and quickly fumbled with the snap and zipper to open my jeans. With that mission eventually accomplished, I shoved my jeans and underwear down on my hips to expose my fully hardened cock to the fresh, cool air. I flexed my muscles and grinned as my big cock bounced up and down, slapping against my belly and leaving traces of clear precum with every slap. Without thinking, I reached down and ran my thumb through the evidence and quickly brought it to my mouth. I closed my eyes as I sucked that sweet liquid from my thumb and gently gripped my cock with the other hand. Knock, knock, knock. My eyes flew open and looked at the bedroom door. Panic mounted as the doorknob began to turn. I didn't have a second to think. Pure instinct kicked in as I yanked my T-shirt down and I flipped over onto my stomach to hide my hardon. "Yeah," I called out, grabbing a book from the nightstand and trying to look like nothing had been going on. Grandpa opened the door and stuck his head into the room. "Lunch is ready." "Okay, I'll be down in a bit," I replied a little breathlessly, looking over my shoulder. Grandpa probably thought it was odd that I didn't get up to greet him, but that definitely wasn't an option. I could still feel my cock throbbing between my belly and the sheets. It wanted my attention. It wanted to be taken care of immediately. "I just need to finish reading this page," I said, holding up the book to buy time. "You know," Grandpa said, coming into the room and sitting down on the edge of the bed, "hiding away up here on your own isn't going to change things." As he looked into my eyes, he placed a reassuring hand on me. A shiver went through my body, and my cock started pulsing. In that instant, I realized that I hadn't pulled up my jeans as I'd flipped over and about half of my butt cheeks were exposed to the air. Whether by accident or intention, Grandpa had managed to place his reassuring hand so that the thumb was resting on the bottom of my T-shirt, his palm was resting on the exposed small of my back, and the tip of his pinkie was resting in the top of my buttcrack! "I... I know," I managed to reply without moaning. There was a long pause, and then Grandpa said, "Life's a bitch, ain't it." "Uh huh," I grunted, looking down at my book. "Well, at least your grandma and I get to see you more now," he replied, gently starting to rub the small of my back in small circles. I caught my breath as his pinkie kept passing over my crack. "That's something, unless you keep hiding away up here." "Yeah," I managed to grunt. I tried to collect my thoughts and ignore the feeling of Grandpa's hand rubbing the top of my ass, because that's the only way I could picture it. I was sure he thought he was rubbing my lower back, but in my mind's eye, the same spot was the top of my ass. "Just not feeling very social yet," I added as flat as possible. "Well, you still have to eat lunch, and your grandma wants to make sure you're eating right." His hand finally came to rest with his pinkie even farther south than it had started. It wasn't just resting on top of my skin near the very tip of my crack; there was definitely buttcheek on either side of it, and the other fingers were resting on one of those buttcheeks while only his thumb remained in the small of my back. I could hardly breathe. "Okay," I finally replied, but the second syllable soared to a high pitch when Grandpa signaled the end of the conversation by raising the wandering hand and giving me a sharp slap on my exposed buttcheeks. "Now, pull up your jeans and let's get a move on. No baggy jeans in this house, young man," he added with a laugh. I couldn't reply. My eyes nearly bulged out of my head as that slap sent an irreversible shockwave through my body and my cock started throbbing frantically. All of my thoughts were suddenly focused on my butt and how much I'd wanted Mr. Booker to fuck me. My brain was filled with images of what that would have been like. My heart was racing wildly. "Woody? Are you okay?" I looked up and discovered that Grandpa was now standing by the door with a grin on his face. "Yeah, Gramps," I managed to reply, but the moment I said his name, images of my grandpa suddenly replaced the images of Mr. Booker. Grandpa resting his weight on my back as he gently rocked his cock in and out of my ass. I barely stifled a moan as those completely unexpected images caused my body to stiffen and my cock to start emptying my balls into the sheets. "You sure you're okay, Woody?" It was several moments before I could relax enough to respond. "Yeah, I'm fine," I finally said, trying to mask the tension. "Well, okay. Wash up and come eat," he replied. I looked over my shoulder as the door clicked shut. Did that last comment mean Gramps somehow knew I'd just shot a load with him in the room and my head filled with images of him fucking me? "That's sick," I said to myself, but my cock had a mind of its own and throbbed again at the memory of Gramps slapping my butt. My cock throbbed and more cum oozed into the sheets. I suddenly realized without a doubt that I had to have it. Quickly, I forced myself up so I was sitting on my haunches. I reached down and scooped up the cum that was clinging to my belly and devoured it like it was all I was going to get for lunch. Every gulp of my tart, salty seed only made me want more. When I finished gathering up all I could from my belly and cock, I swiftly grabbed the sheets and began to suck the cum out of them. When I couldn't get any more seed, I just fell back down on the bed with my face on the wet sheets. There was no more cum to swallow, but the scent was intoxicating. I could feel my cock stiffening again as I inhaled. As much as I wanted to spend the day just jacking off and eating my own cum, I knew I had to get up before Gramps came back to see why I wasn't coming down to lunch. On the horny side, I was turned on by the pervy idea of my grandpa walking in on me as I stroked my big cock in plain sight. On the sane side, I didn't want to freak out Gramps. The sane side finally won. I got out of bed, washed up in the adjoining bathroom, got dressed, and headed down to lunch. ***** "It's good to see a boy with a healthy appetite," Grandma observed as I wolfed down the lunch she had prepared. Part of my head-down feeding frenzy was related to the fact that I couldn't look Grandpa in the eye. "Did Dad say when he'd be back?" I finally asked between bites. "No, just that he had a few places to see," Grandpa replied between bites of his own lunch, "and some old friends to catch up with." "I still don't see why you can't just live here with us," Grandma said. "There's plenty of room." "Growing boys need their privacy. Don't they, Woody," Grandpa observed. I jerked my head up and stared at him, but he just gave me a grin and a wink. I froze. Actually, I panicked. Again, I wondered if he knew that I'd shot my cum while he was still in my bedroom. Or worse, did he somehow know that I'd eaten every drop of that cum after he left? I was suddenly embarrassed by what he might know or think. I looked down at my plate, pushed around a few small leftovers, and mumbled, "I guess." "What are you going to do this afternoon?" Grandma asked. "I don't know," I mumbled, still not daring to look at Grandpa again. "There's a park just a few blocks from here with an outdoor basketball court," Grandpa volunteered. "Might run into some of your future teammates there." My worries vanished and I looked eagerly at Grandpa. "Where is it?" I asked with real interest. Grandpa clarified the directions for getting to the park, and lunch didn't last much longer after that. I offered to help clean up, but Grandma said she wouldn't have it. I ran upstairs, changed into a pair of baggy shorts (going commando for just shooting a few baskets), pulled on my old practice jersey, grabbed my basketball, and headed off to the park. ***** I was surprised to discover that the park was so deserted on a Saturday afternoon, but it was really hot, so I figured everyone else must have preferred to stay in their air-conditioned homes. It was fine with me; I wasn't really in the mood to start meeting the local yokels. After doing a few dexterity drills with the ball, I shot some baskets and then decided to do some full-court layups. It didn't take long for the sweat to start flowing. When the salt started to sting my eyes, I paused at mid-court to catch my breath and lifted my jersey to wipe the sweat off of my face. I let my jersey drop and tossed up a mid-court shot just for fun. I laughed when it dropped right through the hoop. Looked like it was going to be a good day. Applause drew my attention to the corner of the court and to a man who looked to be about Dad's age. "Nice shot." "Thanks," I said with embarrassment. It really had been a lucky shot. "Think you can do it again?" The way the stranger said that really annoyed me, so I just replied, "Every time." "Show me what you've got, then," the stranger said, stepping over to pick up the ball and pass it back to me. I caught the ball and quickly tossed off another half-court shot. My mouth nearly dropped open when the ball went right through the hoop like the previous one had. Fortunately, though, I kept my composure and adopted an "I knew I could do it" stance. "Not bad," the stranger said as he gathered up the ball and we walked toward each other. "Talent," I said, maintaining the cocky attitude but adding a grin. "How about proving it with a game of Horse?" "Uh, sure," I said, not really wanting to humiliate an old guy trying to relive his high school glory days. "You first," he replied, returning the ball to me with a casual bounce pass. I started with an easy shot, and the stranger matched it. Harder shot, and the stranger matched it. Complex shot, and the stranger matched it. I was beginning to think the game was going to go on forever without either of us getting a letter. And then it happened... I made a double-pump reverse layup that I thought would be a sure winner, but again the stranger matched it. Suddenly, he was the one with the cocky grin, and I was the one feeling the heat. He retrieved the ball, walked up to me, and rolled it into my hands. "When are you going to start the hard shots?" he asked. I began trying to think of something difficult to challenge him, but as he walked past me, he casually reached out and slapped me on the ass. It took my breath away along with every ounce of concentration I had. Instead of worrying about my shots, I began worrying about the tingling sensation that wouldn't leave my groin and that was ready to spring my commando cock to full hardness whenever I gave in and allowed it. After that, I couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. It only took five shots for me to get the full H-O-R-S-E. "Damn, what happened to your game so fast?" the stranger taunted me. "Heat, I guess," I replied, leaning over to catch my breath and to hide the semi-hardon that was fighting to grow. Fortunately, my baggy shorts helped to hide the problem a little, but I was definitely cussing at myself for not throwing on a jockstrap that would have helped control my cock. "It's just as hot for me," the stranger laughed as he passed the ball to me, stripped off his T-shirt, and began to wipe the sweat off his body with it. The quick pass forced me to stand up straight, but when I did catch the ball, I quickly lowered it in front of my crotch to block the stranger's view. His sweaty, muscular, hairy chest was too much for me. No matter how desperately I willed it not to, my cock grew rock hard in a heartbeat. Tossing his shirt to the side of the court, the stranger walked up to me, grabbed the ball, and walked past me to the top of the key. "How about a little one-on-one?" he suggested, turning to face me and the basket. "If you think you can handle it," I said, quickly hunching over into defensive position. I just hoped the position and my loose practice jersey would hide the big tent in my shorts. Either the stranger didn't notice, or he didn't care. "First to twenty," he said and then dribbled right at me. I backed off, and he pulled up for a jumpshot that went right in for the first two points of the game. I responded in kind and we traded a few baskets as my cock began to relax and shrink. Then, it happened again... The game suddenly became much more physical. The stranger's hands were all over me on defense. He kept pressing his groin against my hips to block my drives and slid across my ass when I tried to change directions. The moment I felt a change in the size of what he was carrying in his shorts, I lost all concentration again. After that, all I could do was feel his hardened cock pressing against my hips and ass, his sweaty chest gliding across my arm. Turnover after turnover. Missed shot after missed shot. I loosened up my defense, in case the stranger felt my own cock, which was starting to grow again. Unfortunately, that made it easy for him to blow around me for a final layup. "Twenty!" the stranger yelled triumphantly. I bent over again to catch my breath as he retrieved the ball and stood grinning at me. I looked up to see that his hairy chest was heaving from the exertion and glistening with sweat. He held the basketball on one hip and rested his free hand on the other. In my bent-over position, I couldn't miss seeing the tent in his own shorts, which was at my eye level. However, he was obviously wearing a jockstrap that made his tent a little more decent than mine. "I haven't seen you around here before," the stranger finally said as his breathing leveled out. "Just moved here," I panted as I waited for my cock to calm down. "How old are you?" he asked. There was a strange tone in his voice that made me look up. From his expression, it seemed to be more than a casual question. "Just turned eighteen," I said, straightening up to show him my semi-hardon as if that proved how old I was. "Not that anyone bothered to notice during the move." "Well, I'm noticing," the stranger replied, and I swear I could see his cock throbbing even though it was constricted by his shorts and jockstrap. As if to confirm the reaction, he reached down and adjusted his cock. I don't know where it came from, but I just blurted out, "Game of ten freethrows; loser has to suck the winner's dick." I froze. How could I say something like that to a complete stranger? He was big enough to kick my ass if I had misread the signals, and considering that I'd only had one man-on-man encounter in my entire life, it was more than likely that I had jumped to the wrong conclusion. Time seemed to stretch into eternity as the stranger just stood there looking sternly at me. Finally, he broke the silence and asked, "Has to or gets to?" His stern expression didn't change, and what little remained of my bravado melted quickly away. My change of attitude must have shown on my face, because the stranger suddenly let a huge smile spread across his own face as he tossed me the ball with a one-handed pass. "I'll let you go first." Relief swept through my body and my heart, which I swear had stopped, started beating again. As I dribbled to the freethrow line, a little bit of the cockiness began to return. "You'll be sorry," I said. "Freethrows are my specialty." "We'll see," he replied mysteriously as he walked over to the basket to retrieve my shots. I stepped up to the freethrow line and easily sank the first shot. And the next. And the next. "That's nine," I finally bragged as the latest shot hit the mark. The stranger grabbed the ball as it dropped through the net, but instead of passing it back to me as he had been doing, he walked it up to me and let it roll from his hands into mine. "One more to go," he said. Instead of walking back toward the basket, the stranger stepped around behind me. He was so close I could feel the heat from his body. I could feel his breath on my neck. Suddenly, he gave me a sharp slap on the ass and hissed in my ear, "Don't miss." I waited for the stranger to head back toward the basket, but he didn't move. I continued to feel the heat from his body on my back and his breath on my neck. I took a deep breath and bent over to dribble the ball a couple times to relax, but the stranger moved closer and pressed his crotch against my ass. His firm dick pressed my shorts into my crack. I stood up and took my shot. "Airball," the stranger hissed in my ear. It was true. He'd distracted me so much that the ball didn't go anywhere near the hoop. "My turn." I retrieved the ball and tried the same distraction. I handed the stranger the ball and then stepped behind him. "Don't miss," I whispered in his ear. He sank the shot. I went to retrieve the ball, but before I picked it up, I stripped off my jersey and threw it on top of his T-shirt at the side of the court. I grabbed the ball, handed it to him, and resumed my place behind him. This time, I pressed my sweaty, smooth, muscled, young chest against his back as I whispered in his ear, "Don't miss." Another shot dead on. I retrieved the ball, but this time, I just passed it back to him. He wasn't easily distracted, so it wasn't worth the effort. Shot, shot, shot. "Nine," he finally said. "Better get that jaw loosened up," he laughed. I was about to pass the ball back to him, but I paused. Instead, I held the basketball on one hip and openly started stroking my cock through the front of my shorts. The stranger looked around a little nervously at this change of events, but he also seemed very impressed with the results. When I paused, there was no hiding how big or hard my cock was. With a grin, I walked up to the stranger, rolled the ball into his hands, stepped behind him, and pressed my rigid cock against his ass. "I don't know about my mouth, but my cock is sure ready," I whispered. "Don't miss." "I won't," the stranger laughed as he shot the ball. "Ten." He turned toward me and laughed at the disappointed looking on my face. "Is that look because you lost a basketball challenge or because you have to suck an old man's cock?" he laughed. "You're not that old," I said without thinking. He laughed harder and said, "I'm glad to hear it." "About the same age as my dad," I added, hoping that it would take away a little of his cockiness. "Sounds good to me," he replied seriously. There was a tense pause before he continued, "The deal was that the loser, you, had to suck the cock of the winner, me." "Damn, guy, I was kidding," I laughed, trying to blow off the whole situation. "You shouldn't let your mouth make a bet it doesn't plan to deliver," he growled. "I..." "You see that restroom over there?" the stranger asked as he pointed to a cinderblock construction. I obviously did, so he continued. "I'm going over there and wait for my prize." He walked toward the restroom. As he passed the basketball lying at the edge of the court, he paused. He bent down, picked it up, and walked back over to me. "Or would you rather play double-or-nothing for a chance to fuck that tight ass of yours?" Whether out of shock or anticipation or whatever, I remained silent. I couldn't get my mouth to work, but my cock didn't have any problem being able to flex in my shorts at the thought of this sweaty, well-built stranger being the first man to fuck me. My fucking mouth let me down again, and I missed the chance. The stranger rolled the basketball into my hands, but I was too stunned to hold onto it. The ball fell to the ground and bounced away. The stranger just laughed and said, "Okay, I'll be waiting." With that he turned and walked over to his T-shirt, grabbed it off the ground, and headed toward the restroom. I remained frozen in place until he disappeared inside the cinderblock building. As soon as the guy was out of sight, my flight mechanism kicked in. Every muscle in my body was saying to run for my life. After only a moment's hesitation, I started to do just that. I ran over to my jersey, grabbed it, and headed out of the park. Before going too far, though, I stopped. "Why the fuck not?" I said to myself. Okay, he was a stranger, but he was hot, and he was good at basketball. In fact, it was more than likely that I would run into him at the court again. What would I say then? Besides, wasn't I worrying just that morning about not having a chance to suck cock in this town? Here was one waiting for me, and I was running away. "Fuck that," I said, absently stroking my cock as I looked back over at the restroom. "You lose, you pay," I said, as if that was good enough justification for what I was about to do. I licked my lips and started walking slowly toward the restroom as I pulled on my jersey. When I got inside the restroom, I found the stranger leaning back against the sink with his arms crossed over that hairy chest of his. The T-shirt was just slung over his shoulder. "I was beginning to think you really were going to welch on our bet." "I'm here, aren't I?" I said defensively, looking around at the two urinals and two cubicles. "Well, get in there," he said, nodding toward the cubicles. I silently went to the far cubicle and entered it. I turned around expecting the stranger to follow me, but all I saw was the door swinging closed behind me. "Aren't you...?" "Over here," the stranger said. I turned toward the wall shared with the other cubicle, which is where the stranger seemed to be. "What are you...?" "Get busy, boy," the stranger growled. A movement attracted my attention, and I looked down to discover a hard cock snaking its way through a hole in the divider. Below that, I could see the toes of the guy's sneakers appearing as he moved closer. "Now!" he ordered. I snapped out of it and sat on the toilet so my mouth was level with the hole and the cock in it. I slowly reached out a hand to wrap around it. "I..." "Feels good, son," the stranger said as I started stroking him slowly. "But you know that wasn't the bet." I saw a glistening drop of precum ooze out of his dick, and that was all it took. I leaned in without any further hesitation and swiped my tongue over the head of the guy's cock. My tongue immediately tasted how sweet that fluid was, and I wanted more. I began stroking the cock more firmly, trying to force out more precum. I eagerly devoured every drop I could get. "Relax and enjoy it," the stranger said. "I'm not going anywhere." I did as he instructed. I relaxed my grip and settled into a smooth, loose stroking motion. I sucked gently on his cock as I slowly took more and more of it into my mouth. "Oh yeah, that's it," the stranger moaned. "Suck me, boy." I could taste the salty sweat mixed with the taste of man flesh, and the musky smell of our workout filled my nostrils. I glanced up to see the guy's fingers curled over the top of the divider, gripping it as he began to thrust his cock back and forth through the hole instead of letting me do all the work. He grunted every time he drove that hard cock into my mouth, and I moaned with pleasure. If anyone else entered the restroom, there would be no doubt about what we were doing, but I didn't care. "Damn, you've got talent," the stranger grunted, "and not just on the court." I mumbled my appreciation around his cock and continued sucking him into me. Devouring him. Savoring him. Wanting him. "If you don't want to eat my cum, you better stop sucking and start jacking," he grunted urgently. I just tightened my grip on his cock and redoubled my sucking efforts. "Shit yeah," he moaned as he began slamming his hips hard against the divider and driving his throbbing dick into my throat. "I knew you were a cocksucking cum-eater from how rattled you got on the court," the stranger laughed and grunted as he continued his assault. I frantically undid my shorts with my free hand and pulled out my own dick. I began stroking it frantically as the guy kept feeding me his dick. I new it wasn't going to last much longer and that it was going to be a race to the finish. The heel of my fist began slapping my thigh every time I pumped my cock. "Yeah, beat that meat, boy!" the stranger yelled. "MMMMPH, MMMMPH, MMMMPH," I grunted as I lost all control of my sucking and stroking. I was a wild man possessed. I wanted desperately to have my mouth filled with cum and I needed just as bad to shoot my own load. "I'm about there, boy," the guy grunted. "Just a little... OH FUCK. GET READY. OH YEAH! I'M CUMMING!" The first shot of the stranger's cum hit the back of my mouth before he finished that sentence. And my own cock began firing off before the guy's second shot joined the first. I gulped quickly to swallow the flood of cum that was filling my mouth, and I continued to pound my cock as it shot cum all over. "UNGH, UNGH, UNGH," the guy grunted as he continued slamming his hips against the divider and shooting more and more cum into my eager mouth. "Oh, shit," he finally sighed when he stopped thrusting so hard and gently slid his deflating cock in and out of the hole and my mouth. I sighed my own satisfaction as I continued stroking my cock slowly. Cum continued to ooze out and cover my fist. "Damn, boy, when you pay off a bet, you pay off a bet," the stranger laughed when he finally came to rest with his cock still in my mouth. After a few seconds, I let go of his cock and it slipped out of my mouth with a final slurp. "Thanks, it was my pleasure," I laughed. "Mine too," the guy laughed, releasing his grip on the divider and pulling his cock back through the hole. "There's nothing like an afternoon gloryhole blowjob." I was still trying to recover my composure when I heard the other cubicle door open. I didn't want the stranger to get away, so I quickly shoved my cock back in my shorts and hurried out of the cubicle as I tried to fasten them up. I stopped short when I saw the stranger washing his hands at the sink. "Afraid I'd gone without saying goodbye?" he asked with a laugh. "I guess." "Well, some guys prefer the gloryhole sucker not seeing them, but I like seeing whose belly is full of my cum." "Right here," I laughed, lifting my jersey and patting my stomach. "How long you been sucking cock?" he asked casually. I hesitated and then figured that honest was the best policy. "Yours was only the second." "Then you must be a natural, because that felt damn good." "Thanks," I replied with a sheepish grin. "So, you said you just moved here," he said as he began to dry his hands. "Yeah," I confirmed, stepping up to the sink and washing my own hands. "You going to the college?" "Uhhh, high school. Senior year." "Even better," he laughed mysteriously. "You gonna play ball." "I hope so. I started varsity last year back home." "You certainly look like you have skills," the stranger said as he leaned against the wall by the door and I dried my hands. "On the court, too," he added with a laugh. "Fuck off," I replied jokingly as if we'd known each other forever. "Maybe next time you'll be the one getting fucked, if you can't do a better job of controlling your horny side on the court." "It's never been a problem before," I laughed. "What? Getting fucked or controlling your horny side." I looked at him for a second before admitting, "I've never been fucked." "You wanna be?" "I think so." "Even if it's an old guy like me?" he asked with a grin. "Definitely," I blurted without thinking. "Better and better," he laughed. "Speaking of better, you might want to rinse out that jersey." I looked down and realized for the first time how much cum I had shot all over myself. Most of it had soaked into the jersey, but it still left streaks that sure didn't look like sweat. "Thanks," I replied, slipping off my jersey and shoving it under the running water. The stranger stepped up behind me and reached around me as I washed my jersey. "Mmmm," he sighed as one hand gently rubbed my belly and the other casually traced along my cock, which started to grow at his touch. "It's good to have new talent in town, especially when he's hung like a horse." "Mmmm," I echoed him, leaning my head back on his shoulder. I dropped my jersey under the water and spun around to wrap my arms around the stranger's neck and pull him into a kiss. He pulled me close and returned my passion. "Mmmm," the stranger sighed when he finally broke the kiss. "I love tasting my own cum in another guy's saliva, especially when the guy is as hot as you." "You're hot too," I said, lowering my gaze to his chest and running my fingers through the hair. "Damn, kid, you really don't get the point of anonymous man sex," he laughed, gripping my hands. "I'm sorry," I said, completely embarrassed. I yanked my hands away from him, grabbed my soaking jersey out of the sink, and ran. I wasn't far from the restroom when I finally remembered the basketball, which I'd left back on the court. I changed directions and ran to get it. The initial detour cost me time, and the stranger got back to the court just as I did. We struggled over the ball, but he ended up with it. "Looks like we have another skill that needs a little work." "I'm sorry. Just give me my ball and let me go." "All in good time. Look, boy... Hey, what's you're name? I'm getting tired of calling you boy and kid and whatever else comes to mind." "I thought you were the one who wanted it to be anonymous." "Well, if you're planning on playing ball, that will be a little difficult." "What do you mean?" "I'm Coach Dieter," he said, rhyming the name with Peter. "I'm the head boy's basketball coach, with an emphasis on head for the right player," he finished with a wink. "Really?" I asked. It was too strange and bizarre to believe. "Really," he confirmed. "And from what I've seen on the court and in that restroom, you definitely have a spot on the team." "Thank you!" I said, jumping into his arms. "Seriously, though," he said, holding me at arm's length, "you have some impressive basketball skills as long as you don't break your concentration." "Thanks, but I've never had an opponent humping me on defense before, or rubbing his cock up my ass during my freethrows." "There's a first time for everything," Coach Dieter laughed. "I just want to be clear that the sex is up to you. If you want to play around off the court, I'm up for it. Just don't go falling in love with me. I'm a happily married man who likes to have some man-on-man fun now and then. If you can't handle that, it's fine. You'll still have a spot on the team. We graduated most of our best players last year, so this is a rebuilding year for us. We definitely need a kid like you. And what the fuck is your name?" "Woody," I replied and saw Coach Dieter try to conceal a smirk. "Yeah, I know. It's short for Woodrow, which isn't any better." "No worse than Peter Dieter," he laughed. "That is pretty funny," I agreed. "Well, how about if I just call you Horse?" he asked, getting serious again and reaching out to touch the front of my shorts. "Whatever you say, Coach," I replied, flexing my hips to press my cock against his palm. "Now that's what I like to hear from my players. How about another game of Horse? Winner gets to decide whether he wants to fuck or get fucked." "Are you serious?" I asked with an eager grin but stepping back from the surprise. "Chicken?" Coach Dieter asked with a raised eyebrow. "Not at all," I said, throwing my wet jersey on the ground, grabbing the ball from Coach Dieter, and dribbling onto the court to make my first shot. I retrieved the ball and passed it to Coach, but he missed the shot. "H!" I called as I ran for the ball. "Your ass is mine." "I hope so, Horse," he replied. I stopped to look at him and realized he was definitely willing to let me fuck his ass. Not just willing, wanting. "Damn," I mumbled and missed my shot. "Concentrate, Horse, concentrate," Coach laughed as he picked up the ball. "Horse?" Coach Dieter looked over his shoulder and saw my grandpa walking up to the court. "Mr. Wharton! How're you doing?" "Fine, fine," Grandpa replied. "Just walked over to see my grandson show off his ball skills." "Your grandson?" Coach asked, looking back at me. "You're Clint Wharton's son?" "Yeah," I replied, starting to get really nervous about Coach knowing my family. "Well, well. Small world," he muttered. "I knew there was something familiar about your style...on the court." "He and your dad went to school together," Grandpa clarified. "Oh," I replied lamely. "So, what's this Horse thing all about?" Grandpa persisted. Before Coach could reply, his phone started ringing. He pulled it out of his shorts pocket and answered it. "Hello? Now? Okay, I need to finish-- Okay, okay, I'll be there as soon as I can." Coach turned off his phone and slipped it back into his shorts pocket. "Sorry, guys, gotta go." "Now?" I asked, with a little more disappointment than I should have. "Don't worry, we'll definitely finish this game sooner or later," Coach laughed. "But when the ball and chain says jump, I have to jump. Work on that concentration, Horse," Coach said, giving me a wink and a pat on the ass as he walked by me. "Later, Mr. Wharton." "Bye, Coach," I said, completely disappointed that I had yet again been blocked from another chance at my first butt-fuck. "Well, let's see what you've got, Woody," Grandpa said. "What?" I was still a bit distracted by the bet about getting fucked, so my cock was still at semi-hard status, and I was blocking Grandpa's view of it with the basketball. "Are you gonna shoot? Or did he wear you out?" Whether he knew how innuendo-filled his questions were or not, Grandpa was having an effect on my cock. When he asked about shooting, all I could picture was Coach's cock shooting his cum in my mouth and me shooting my load all over myself. Combined, they definitely wore me out. "Well?" Grandpa persisted. "Oh, sorry, I think I've had about all I can handle for one day," I finally replied, pressing the basketball against my cock to eliminate the tent. "Sorry you walked over for nothing." "Exercise is good for you," Grandpa replied. "Grab your shirt, and let's go." I picked up the wet jersey and pulled it on, completely aware that it had been soaked in my own cum only a short time earlier. The thought quickly stiffened my cock again. I had to press the basketball harder against my cock to hide my boner as Grandpa and I started to walk back home. ------------------- I hope you enjoyed this bit of fun. If you did, feel free to let me know how much: hotfordads@yahoo.com. The more details, the better! And if you have picture proof of your enjoyment that can inspire me to keep writing, that's even better. ;) Remember, always play SAFE in the real world; you never know where that thing has been! For other stories by this author, check out www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#hotfordads.