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The Transfer Jock (43) -- By Jack Richard

"That coach is queer for me."

“So what do you think?” Mitchell asked Finn, after his preview of all the known homos on the football team. Coach and the team, excluding Jeff and the team’s manager, had hit the locker•room after Friday’s late practice.


“What do I think? That Coach is queer for me,” Finn replied, laughing, “and that he knows I want him as much as he wants me. I mean, did you guys really miss all that?” “I’d say you’ve got great fucking instincts, Finn,” Jeff admitted, “but before we break that shit down, did you also happen to notice how queer I am for you?”
“I did, Jeff,” Finn said, laughing and clapping his hand on Jeff’s shoulder, giving it a good squeeze, “and I’d show you how queer I am for you…except I’ve really got a thing for Mitchell, too, and I’ve already made a promise to him about tonight.”
“Mitchell and I are sharing a surprisingly large amount of shit lately, bro, including hot guys,” Jeff suggested.
“Oh, I’m going to hold you to your promise,” Mitchell said helpfully, “but you can show Jeff how queer you are for him. I don’t mind, so long as you show me how queer you are for me next.”
“OK…” Finn said, looking around, and then clamped his hand firmly on Jeff’s junk as he brush•kissed his ear, whispering loudly so Mitchell could hear, too, “From one transfer jock to another, I want you, you fucking stud.” He squeezed Jeff’s big bulge hard before letting go.
“That’s pretty fucking queer, dude,” Jeff said, laughing. “Queer me like that anytime. Now queer Mitchell.” Finn checked around again to make sure the coast was still clear, then planted a wet, open•mouthed kiss on Mitchell’s lips, forcing his tongue past them, while slipping his hand inside Mitchell’s gym•shorts, inside his bulging jockstrap, grabbing and then massaging his familiar huge cock.
“Ahem,” Jeff cleared his throat loudly, “buzzards!” Finn broke clear quickly, looking around and seeing that players were already starting to trickle out of the field house toward the parking lot. “Thanks, man,” Finn said, “I’m so queer for Mitchell I’d have gotten us busted.”
“I saw that,” Jeff noted drily, “but at least you want me, too, don’t forget that.” “I do and I won’t,” Finn confirmed. “Now can we unpack the shit about your queer coach and how I can get into the sack with him after the three of us go find some vile and unspeakable things to do?”
Jeff and Mitchell exchanged looks. “I think we’re going to have to use a new strategy, bro,” Mitchell said to Jeff. “Yeah we are,” Jeff agreed, “honesty. Always a good fallback in a pinch. But first, what’d you think about all those other homos.”
“Sure,” Finn replied. “First, I’m with the two hottest guys in the group right now, with the possible exception of Coach, which we’re going to talk honestly about in a minute. Second, while I’d love to see all of the rest of them naked, I’d fuck every one of them, including that straight kid. In fact, if he weren’t straight and off•limits due to age, I’d rank him right below you guys. Third, I’m almost positive three other Eagle Scouts and I fucked that tall blond QB all night long one night last summer…he wasn’t as big then, and he had a buzz cut, but I’m almost certain it’s the same dude. I bet he took a dozen loads, and a few other ghost•fucks, and he was down for more but he’d burned all four of us to the ground.”
Jeff whistled loudly. “Jesus Christ. But, yeah, I was an Eagle Scout, too, and I’ve heard stuff like that about Landen. C’mon, we’ll spill our guts so we can get on with that vile and unspeakable shit you mentioned before you got to Landen.”
“Aw, guys, don’t look so forlorn,” Finn said, draping an arm around both of their shoulders as they walked slowly up the hill, “we’re all friends here. Tell you what, you tell me honestly what’s on your minds, and I’ll share some honest shit about myself. I’ve got a little problem, one I can solve, but I have a feeling you homos could come up with a better, less painful, solution. Say, you guys do really do group shit, right? Because I was thinking that might be a lot of fun tonight.”


While Mitchell and Jeff were recruiting Finn, I was trying to tamp down my burning desire for the big strapping first baseman by providing some much needed locker•room oversight. Since Mitchell was absent with leave, I stationed myself outside the showers to hand out towels to emerging wet, naked jocks, reaching my position just in time to see Max turn left into the shower•room, giving me an excellent view of his firm ass and hairy crack. I also caught a tantalizing glimpse of the head of his dick and maybe another inch or two flopping out of sight, which told me he had enough dick to flop around when he walked, and I thought what I’d seen had been pretty thick, and possibly uncut.
While I was waiting for Max to come out and give me the full frontal, I saw a couple of other new penises, both on straight kids, both nice but average. I also got another good look at Landen’s fat cock, which I’d had the pleasure of sucking into a boner that afternoon before he’d shoved it tentatively into my ass, face•to•face on my living room floor. He had been nervous, a lot more nervous than he’d been taking it up the ass in my office that morning.
I know having Jeff and Mitchell watching hadn’t helped, so I tried to talk him through it, telling him that the only thing that mattered to me was that he’d been willing to give it a go and to take it slow and easy so I could feel all of his rock•hard cock at full depth, anything else, including any additional in•out•in movement, would be gravy. I’d had an idea that he was concerned about possible premature ejaculation, which was true, he did have that concern, related to me by him after the fact. But Landen had done fine and, while he was something of an early squirter, it wasn’t what I’d call ‘premature.’ He’d earned that orgasm after filling me up completely, and managing some vigorous in•out•in movement. He’d immensely enjoyed the endorphin rush that accompanies a climax following real physical exertion, though not as much as he’d enjoyed getting tag•teamed by two of the three biggest cocks in the locker•room right after he’d finished in me.
I winked at Landen as I handed him his towel, and he had the good manners to throw it over his shoulder rather than cover up his beautiful cock - and to clear off to his locker so as not to block my full frontal of Max, who was not far behind Landen. Jesus Christ, how could I have overlooked Max’s big, thick, floppy penis for over three weeks? It looked like a fucking beer can. And Jeff had obviously overlooked that beauty as well. Maybe because he and I had only (or mostly) had eyes for each other.
Mitchell was probably fully aware of Max’s big, fat cock, but I’d never asked him to point out huge dicks I’d overlooked, just to point out possible homos I’d overlooked. Mitchell obviously thought Max was straight, which he probably was, and too young, which he definitely was. Of course, Mitchell had thought Dewey and Alex were straight, too. And after Alex had been recruited, he told Mitchell that he thought Max might be queer, and that he hoped he was because Max was hung - which I’d just confirmed for myself.
“Hey Max, you’re the last one out, right?” “Yes sir.” “Good…then can we have a quick word while you get dressed?” I asked. I just wanted to see more of his young, straight beer•can•cock. When he said ‘sure, Coach,’ I dropped the pile of folded towels I was holding onto the floor and followed Max’s dripping wet delicious ass (towel over the shoulder, great manners noted) to his locker which, because of his lack of seniority, was in a far corner, deserted, at least at the moment. He turned and flashed a winning smile at me, and I decided on the spot that he wasn’t cute, he was ruggedly gorgeous. And he certainly didn’t look all that young - in addition to his three•day beard, he had some nice if still thin hair beginning to spread across his chest, encircling his hard nipples, and fine soft black down fanning out across his flat belly from the thick well•defined trail leading from his shallow navel straight down to his trimmed (!!!) pubes…and Ground Zero.
Max raised his towel and dried his long, dark wavy hair, giving me plenty of time to stare at his huge uncut student•athlete beer•can•cock and take note of his exceptionally bushy armpits, post•coital candy for me. Whatever else this kid was or wasn’t, he was extremely comfortable in his own skin. If only I could think of some excuse to get him to bend over and spread his ass cheeks apart for me, but the only excuse for asking him to do that was…
“So what’s up, Coach?” he asked, smiling coyly as he reached down and stretched his foreskin.🏈

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 unknown


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