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The Transfer Jock (32) -- By Jack Richards

"The fact that I’m going to punish Jeff doesn’t mean you aren’t welcome here."


“We might as well finish this train, Jeff,” I said after Dewey pulled his spent cock out of my butt, “before I punish the fuck out of you…” Jeff had brought Dewey home with him, against my strict instructions, and they had walked in on Mitchell hammering my ass. Jeff had quickly called “dibs” on sloppy seconds, but contrived to have Dewey, whom I didn’t yet know was present, stand•in for him.


“Min•train,” Jeff interrupted, correcting me, “this is just a warm•up, practice, for what I promised you, Coach.” Dewey’s eyes got as big as saucers with the news that there was something bigger in the offing than three high school jocks tag•teaming their coach.
“Dewey, the fact that I’m going to punish Jeff,” I continued, ignoring for the moment what Jeff had just said, “doesn’t mean you aren’t welcome here. You are, and I’m glad you’re here.” And despite my mid•fuck surprise to find out that the jock boning the fuck out of me after Mitchell had finished wasn’t Jeff but Dewey, I was glad Dewey was there - glad in the way that a thick rock•hard 18•year•old cock balls•deep in my ass always makes me feel. “Mitchell, would you please make sure Dewey feels at home until I’m free in a few minutes?”
I had stood up straight to make my little speech, taking a moment to stretch my back before I bent over again. Dewey’s eyes were focused like a laser beam on my cock, which was full and fat but not hard, not after having been bent over 15 minutes or so (five, tops, by Dewey and ten or twelve, at least, by Mitchell) with all the blood rushing to my head. I supposed Dewey was seeing a coach or teacher’s penis for the first time, so I flopped my dick around a couple of times. I decided he was just in shock. Whatever Jeff had told him, he couldn’t have expected to walk in the the front door of my house and shove his cock straight up his coach’s ass. Even for my house, that had been a little light on the fore•play.
I knew that Dewey hadn’t come to my house to fuck me as a secret stand•in for Jeff, nor likely to fuck me at all. Probably he had been lured there by promises of whatever of Mitchell he could get, and for whatever more of Jeff he could get, and if any of it had to do with me at all, he’d probably assumed he’d be the one bending over, not me. And, to be sure, Dewey would be bending over for me if he hung around long enough or came back again. We were looking one another in the eye until right before I bent down again to receive my third large student•athlete•cock in little over twice as many minutes. I checked my math…that was right…six or seven minutes earlier I’d still had Mitchell on top of me…
Jeff entered me and I could tell the difference instantly between him and Dewey, though not size•wise. More than the lack of latex or the welcome addition of his big balls slapping against my ass - even before those balls started slapping - Jeff’s thick dick imparted, radiated, a different kind of warmth than Dewey’s or Mitchell’s, something like electricity, or pure emotion, or maybe even love. “I fucked up,” he said softly, as he fucked me ‘softly’ but with passion.
“Do you know what you did wrong?” I asked. “What one thing?”
“I do, Coach,” he said, as his rock•hard 18•year•old cock slid easily in and out, in and out, repeatedly finding my sweet spot. “I’m sorry for that.”
“Let’s talk about it later,” I said as Jeff’s glowing warmth filled me all the way up in a way that even Mitchell’s (estimated) ten inches could not. It’s tough to stay mad at a gorgeously masculine kid packing 8.25 rock•hard disproportionately•thick inches, with a seemingly inexhaustible supply of semen, especially one who thinks he’s in love with you but is smart or clever enough to understand that his love (if that’s what it is) is no prohibition against him fucking other hot jocks in your presence.
While the only other stud I’ve watched fuck Jeff (so far) is Mitchell, I think Jeff knows on some level that part of his allure to me is me watching him with another jock…and it’s a fact that I wanted to watch him and Dewey fuck, and another fact that I was probably more interested in watching Jeff fuck Landen than I was in fucking Landen myself. I could fake my anger at Jeff for the just•concluded Dewey episode later, but at that moment we very much still had an audience. I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed watching hot guys fucking.
Mitchell apparently decided that the best way to make sure Dewey felt at home was, first, to stand slack•jawed next to an equally slack•jawed Dewey watching the third guy in line fuck me pretty much perfectly, with me howling in delight with every thrust and, second, as Dewey’s brain gradually registered that certain student•athletes fucking their coach in a group setting was the new normal - ‘nothing to see here, folks, move along’ - to let Dewey suck his huge ginger cock, though not with any real effect since Mitchell couldn’t have nutted any more than six minutes before Dewey had. Still, sucking that big, fat, soft dick of his masturbatory fantasies appeared to have a pacifying effect on the cornerback.
They looked good together, Dewey and Mitchell, Dewey’s creamy milk•chocolate skin against Mitchell’s milky•white skin, highlighted by the shock of bright red•orange hair on his head, paler but still orange spilling from his armpits, a faint ginger trail leading down his taut, well•defined abs to the shock of red•orange pubic hair matching that on his head. And those fat young but fully grown cocks, Dewey’s still slick with cum…until Mitchell pulled his fat, soft, saliva•covered dick out of Dewey’s mouth and knelt down to swallow Dewey’s fat milk•chocolate cum•slickened cock. I wondered where Dewey’s used cum•filled condom was since no one had left the room to flush it. I scanned the room for the rubber as Jeff’s tempo changed yet again…in sight but out of reach on a magazine on a table at the end of the couch. “Mitchell…I want the cum…from Dewey’s rubber…in my mouth…please…”
Mitchell brought me Dewey’s rubber, held it up in front of my face, untied the knotted end, and asked, “You want it all?” because there was a shit•load of cum in that rubber, half•full maybe. I nodded yes, and Mitchell tilted its contents into my mouth as Jeff approached the end (though I didn’t know that yet, and wouldn’t for a couple more seconds) of an exquisite ass•fucking, when a perfunctory one would’ve served…me….I understood why a perfunctory ass•fucking didn’t serve Jeff’s purposes just then.
Jeff finished well, no surprise there, with his big hard cock swelling inside me just before orgasm, tipping me off, him yelling as he blasted off (and seemed to continue blasting off) before his hard sweaty body collapsed against mine, him still trying to work his ejaculating and post•ejaculatory boner deeper and deeper. Once he was finally, completely through, he didn’t linger long, and as soon as he’d pulled out, I turned and grabbed his still•hard penis in my hand, quite a handful, and tugged him to follow me around the couch.
“I’m taking a shower,” I announced, and God knows I needed one, “and I’m going to have to punish Jeff, I’m afraid. We’ll be back directly. Mitchell, you might show Dewey the pool or hot tub in the meantime…or do whatever…” I yanked Jeff by his cock into my bedroom and closed the door loudly behind us…and then fell upon him exactly as you might expect an older, not exactly deprived, but…somewhat uneasy, lover, perhaps a little unsure of his present status, might fall upon the younger…hungrily, starved, as if the younger had not just perfectly fucked the older, had not fucked him at all in weeks…
“Are you going to punish me now, Coach?” Jeff asked hopefully as he followed me into the shower and began to soap my back.
“Nope,” I said, “but, Goddammit, Jeff, if you invite or bring someone else over here for sex without clearing it with me first, whatever we’re doing here is over…and it’ll break my heart, but you’ll be taking your toothbrush and going home.”
“Understood,” Jeff said quietly as he wrapped his strong arms around me and nuzzled my neck and ears.
“And that’s not the worst thing you did,” I said, “you understand that, right?” I’d certainly never told Jeff what I believed to be the most fundamental rule of sexual relations between two (or more) people, because who ever needs to say something so universally understood? I could feel his large semi pressing against my crack and, God help me, I wanted him, and wondered if he could fuck me again so soon after he’d had such a powerful orgasm…


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 Richard Wallace