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The Transfer Jock (27) -- by Jack Richards

“All I can say is you must have been using a big fucking dildo, bro.”

🏈🏈🏈.

Mitchell lubed Jeff’s hole and then began working his huge cock into that seemingly small opening. I stood straddling Jeff, facing Mitchell so that I’d have a good view of the grand re•opening and, more practically, so that I could lend a hand by spreading Jeff’s firm ass cheeks as far apart as I could, noting with approval that his curly black crack hair was still wet from the pool. Mitchell, to his credit, repaid the favor of my assist by taking my throbbing cock into his mouth.

🏈🏈🏈.

Once Mitchell was fully engaged (and then some) and was into the familiar advance• retreat•advance•further phase, and more and more of his shaft was disappearing into Jeff’s nether•regions, I took my place kneeling behind Mitchell. Just before I buried my face in his ginger•fringed crack, Mitchell commented to Jeff, “All I can say is you must have been using a big fucking dildo, bro.”
Jeff laughed. “Duh, the last one was your size, you know, just in case…” Whatever else Mitchell might have been doing in the bathroom a few minutes before, he’d definitely taken care of his personal hygiene, leaving me with a sparkling fresh, minty asshole to lap up, almost as if he’d somehow taught his ass to gargle with mouthwash. That kid was full of surprises. I appreciated Mitchell’s thoughtfulness as my tongue pushed into his scrumptious tight pink hole and rotated…and he moaned long and loud.
I didn’t make Jeff wait too long for Mitchell to start rocking his world again, though I knew he’d be content for the time being with all that cock parked, throbbing, at maximum depth. Mostly I just wanted to give Mitchell a sample of something different to look forward to that night, but his ass still got a decent tongue•lashing before I moved on to main act. When I entered him, I was a little surprised that he was still as tight as he was, until I remembered that he had only been fucked twice before, both times by Jeff, and I really had no idea how long before that had happened.
“Let me know if it hurts,” I said softly as I pushed in slowly. “Oh, it hurts, Coach, but in a good way, and less than last time,” he replied, “and I want more…now.” I gave Mitchell more, and as soon he’d adjusted to the next inch+, I pulled back slightly, then pushed in hard a couple more inches. Out•in•out. “Give it all to me, Coach.”
“The first time I was ever in the middle,” I told him as I retreated an inch or so, “with the rectum in front of me clenching my cock, when the guy behind me drove all the way in, I lost it and blew my load… just be prepared…”
“Dude, I had a VERY close fucking call,” Jeff said, “when you drove into me and Coach’s magic rectum was strangling my cock…just sayin.’”
Mitchell grunted loudly when I punched in hard most of the way, regrouped and drove in hard to my limit. After a few seconds, Mitchell was rocking, grinding, on Jeff’s ass and I was following his lead. Mitchell was a man on a mission, quickly building up a head of steam, fucking Jeff hard with what appeared to be the single•minded purpose of nutting as quickly as possible, which proved not to be all that quick.
And Mitchell might well have understood that, having just gotten off 30 or 45 minutes earlier, he was at liberty to fuck his new best friend with abandon and without fear of squirting too quickly. At the time, I just didn’t have enough experience with the ‘skinny’ red•head to have any idea about how long his normal refractory period was, how many orgasms he might be capable of achieving over X number of hours, how incentivized he might be to come multiple times or, for that matter, whether he placed much or any value on prolonging intercourse and how much control he might have over that. Or whether he was just ready for lunch.
Whatever Mitchell was thinking as he boned the fuck out of Jeff (to Jeff’s obvious delight, I should add), I followed Mitchell’s lead and pounded the fuck out of his tight ginger•fringed a•hole (without his objection, if not to his obvious delight) without reservation. While I didn’t have any understanding yet of Mitchell’s physical limitations, I knew my own quite well. At 34, twice Mitchell’s age, I’d had no difficulty achieving a good, stiff boner, but I knew that to achieve a second orgasm within an hour of the first, I was going to have to pound that tight hole long and hard. A third orgasm within the second hour would’ve been a stretch for me, but we didn’t have the time for another round then anyway. So fucking Mitchell with the single•minded purpose of nutting as quickly as possible was just what I needed.
Apart from the superb sensation of repeatedly driving into Mitchell’s tight, well•lubed, near•virgin 17•year•old ass, what struck me most about that rambunctious romp was the excellent view I enjoyed of the two hot, well•muscled studs in front of me energetically slamming into each other over and over again. There was a visceral, primal quality to their fucking, the sheer, sweaty physicality of it, as they cemented their new “friendship.”
I could foresee Jeff and Michell becoming, after I was disgraced and imprisoned or, if I somehow managed to dodge the reckoning the law unambiguously said I deserved, after Jeff tired of me, as I knew he would (and likely sooner rather than later), not just the kind of best friends who loved to fuck each other, but actual lovers, young men in love. That thought made me very happy, though I hadn’t nearly had my fill of Jeff yet, nor of Mitchell either, but there was a difference in how I felt about them. I was stupidly, dangerously, preposterously in love with Jeff. I didn’t confuse my lust and other warm feelings for Mitchell with love, but the desire I felt for him as I gripped his sweaty ass and hammered his tight pink hole was nevertheless intense.
The unmistakable signs that Mitchell was about to nut, and then the fact of his emphatic nutting, and finally the stopping of his forward motion, also made me very happy. After Jeff crawled out from under Mitchell and sprawled gasping on his back, rock•hard again, I could and did set my own tempo, still rapid, but employing longer, deeper thrusts, pulling almost all the way out of Mitchell’s snug fuck•tunnel before and after each thrilling balls•deep plunge.
Whether an illusion or not, I had the sense of having increased the stimulation to my entire penis…and that did the trick for me, as I climaxed powerfully deep inside my second•favorite teenager and favorite 17•year•old. Unsheathed. Had I made a conscious decision not to use a condom? Or had I intended to use one, but recklessly plunged ahead without thinking? Did I even have permission to bareback this near•virgin kid who’d never been fucked in the ass bare before? Let alone permission to blast the very first load of semen into his rectum? 🏈



Jack Richards is the pen name of a southern lawyer and prolific Tumblr author of prose porn.
This piece appeared first on Jack's Tumblr website. More will follow.

Cover art by Tom of Finland


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