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The Transfer Jock (46) -- By Jack Richards

"Max is about to nail me to the wall."



Mitchell unlocked the field house, and he and the two transfer•jocks stripped naked as soon as they were inside, their sweat•drenched shorts, shirts, jockstraps, cleats and running shoes left in a jumbled pile by the door, each of them reveling in the beauty of the other two. “Showers, comma, ass•fucking,” Jeff insisted and grabbed Finn’s fat, gorgeous and still•growing beer•can•cock, pulling him along through the locker•room to the showers. Finn in turn grabbed Mitchell’s giant ginger boner and pulled him after him.


The locker•room was dark but the light in the shower•room was on, and provided more than enough light by which to make their way. The fact that the shower room was lit up wasn’t unusual; one of the rooms in the complex was usually left illuminated. What was unusual, they discovered as they drew nearer, was the sound of running water and, as they got closer still, the unmistakable, though muffled, sounds of fucking, almost certainly of two guys fucking.

The three well•hung jocks, each already in some state of arousal, stood quietly in the doorway to the shower•room watching the sizzling hot scene in front of them. One of the guys was lying on his back on the floor under the falling water, legs slightly crouched, his feet toward them, the second guy, his back to them, energetically riding his partner’s thick cock, cowboy•style, riding high up the shaft and thrusting his ass down hard, all the way down to his partner’s big bouncing ball•sack, with remarkable rapidity and dexterity, the guy on top (the bottom) was leaning forward, his hands planted on the floor somewhere out of the voyeurs’ line of sight, and he was repeatedly pumping his very fine (if lean) ass down onto an impressive cock, a cock which two of the three watchers eventually (but not immediately) recognized.

“Hey…those are Coach’s balls…” Jeff said in a barely audible whisper. “But who’s that hot fucker on top of him?” Mitchell whispered just as quietly. “I dunno, but I sure hope Coach brings him home to us,” Jeff replied. “Should we go?” Finn whispered. “Unh unh,” Mitchell replied, “Coach won’t mind…besides this is almost over.” By that point the fucking had become even more frenzied, the bottom•on•top slamming down harder and faster and Coach thrusting up powerfully to meet his down•stroke. “Is…is that the kid you said was straight?” Finn asked. “His hair looks kinda…” “Could be…maybe…” Jeff and Mitchell answered together, both wondering, if that were the case, how they could have possibly had such a massive intel failure…and what the fuck was Coach doing fucking a known 16•year•old???

There was a loud roar from the top•on•bottom, followed by Coach’s voice shouting as he blew (or began to blow) his cork, “Oh fuck yes! Fuck yes!”

The guy on top of Coach continued pounding his ass down onto Coach’s cock throughout Coach’s orgasm, “Fuck me, MAX! Fuck me!’ until Coach lay spent on the floor. Max’s ass swallowed Coach’s cock one last time, and Max finally, thankfully (to Jeff and Mitchell) stopped, then leaned forward and joined his mouth to Coach’s. “Yeah, that’s Max, alright,” Jeff whispered helpfully. “He sure does look straight,” Finn replied - and, oops, they all laughed out loud.

“Who’s there?” Coach asked from underneath the back•up QB. He didn’t yell or sound startled or angry, just a calm voice asking a reasonable question. “Uh, sorry, Coach,” Jeff replied, “it’s just us, it’s safe.” Coach whispered something in Max’s ear, and Max shook his head, then started to push himself up off of Coach’s unsheathed cock. (As Jeff learned later that night, Coach, ever the gentleman, had been offering to dismiss the three upperclassmen so as to preserve the sophomore’s (already blown) anonymity).

“OK guys,” Coach said, “hang on, we’re getting up…and then Max is going to nail me to the wall. Max offered Coach a hand and pulled him cleanly to his feet, then turned around to face the voyeur•jocks for the first time. Their arousal complete, all three were rock•hard, and two of them (alas, not Mitchell) were leaking pre•cum. Max had almost every inch of the cock Jeff and Finn (but not of Mitchell, of course) had, thick and uncut, and he was just as hard as the three of them. Jeff was seeing Max as if for the first time, though of course he wasn’t. He was just seeing him nude for the first time. Maybe it was his grown•up, boned•up dick that made Max suddenly look so rugged and mature…not to mention fuckable. And that scruff on his face…when had he grown that?? Whatever it was, Jeff was seeing Max not as some “cute” kid but as a peer…and more than that…as definite boyfriend•material.

“Fuck, sophomore dude,” Jeff said, stretching out his arms, “come to Papa.” Max looked at Coach, presumably for permission, Coach nodded and Max walked across the shower•room floor to Jeff, who took a step or two to meet him. The sophomore, not the senior, took the initiative, taking their massive erect cocks into his two•handed grasp, stroking them slowly together. “Aw, man, why didn’t you tell me you’re a fucking homo?” Jeff asked, thinking of the three+ ‘wasted’ weeks of the intimate companionship the two of them could’ve been enjoying.

Jeff was also calculating, conducting a rapid•fire mental inventory: Had he treated the sophomore like shit during camp like most of the upperclassmen routinely treated the newbies? No, he had not. As a different kind of newbie himself, the transfer•jock had been empathetic, even friendly, to this kid, and complimentary of the tight spirals he’d thrown to him on the few occasions the first and second/third teams had taken snaps together. Jeff was satisfied that he hadn’t been a complete asshole to Max, but was nevertheless disconsolate that he’d failed miserably in identifying the available talent in the locker•room. Coach, though, that fucking goat, had sniffed out this exceptional talent himself…he obviously didn’t need Jeff or Mitchell to bring home their kills to him.

Max laughed, shaking his head. He was as tall as Jeff, with more facial hair and body hair, and almost as much penis, which was way more than enough. “Because you’re a senior and I’m a sophomore,” he replied, “because I didn’t really believe you were a fucking homo, too, even though every time I backed•up the QB, if you know what I mean, he’d tell me about you having just fucked him again…but, I don’t know why, I didn’t really believe him, because you could have anybody you wanted, I guess, and until I saw you and Dewey kissing in the parking lot last night and then…you know…I wasn’t sure—”

“So you just went after the fucking Coach?” Jeff asked, laughing. “Ballsy, dude.”

“Not until he gave me the same kind of attention I’d seen him giving you, Dewey and Landen this week,” Max said. “And you’ll understand, I think, that me going after Coach, who happens to be hot•as•fuck, was a helluva lot safer play for me, for a lot of reasons, than going after an upperclassman stud like you or Mitchell or Dewey, and having gotten shot down, either for having been wrong, or having been right but still rejected.”

“Yeah I do,” Jeff said. Teenagers were relentless in their scorn and meanness, while Coach, or probably most adults, would’ve gently deflected a misguided or unwanted pass from a kid, and then pretended like it had never happened. “So here’s my deal, and everyone in this room might deny the part I’m about to say about them, but Coach and I are in love, sort of, you know, at least for the next couple of days; Mitchell and I are best•friends•with•benefits; Finn, this fucking hunk, I just met when you met him, so I don’t think Finn’s going to deny that. But I’m promoting Mitchell, and I hope vice•versa, to boyfriend, and Finn’s going to be my new best•friend•with•benefits. So I’d like for you to be my protege, if you’re interested. I think I need a protege like you.”

“What does that entail?” Max asked warily, but very much interested in the offer. “Nothing, whatever you want to make of it,” Jeff replied, laughing. “You can keep doing whoever you’ve been doing, or do these guys or whoever else you find. But the benefits are substantial: No. 1, you’ve got a claim on my cock or asshole anytime I’m not engaged with anyone else in this room; and No. 2, I’ll have your back and be your wing•man for the rest of my life, or at least until I graduate, whether you’re taking advantage of No. 1 or not. Oh, there is one requirement…you’re going to have to fuck me, once at least, at a time of your choosing, the same way you just fucked Coach.”

“I accept,” Max said, and kissed Jeff like you’d expect a new protege would kiss his new ‘mentor,’ all tongue. When they’d finally managed to break apart from each other, which had been difficult, Jeff had dropped quickly to one knee and filled his mouth with (some of) Max’s hard beer•can•cock. Just as quickly he was back on his feet, whispering in Max’s ear, “I’m going to need to finish that blowjob as soon as possible, too.”

“Bravo,” Coach said, “now as I was saying, Max is about to nail me to the wall, and then he’ll be free to assume his extensive new protege duties.” Coach was already bracing against the wall and opening his stance, past ready to have Max’s rock•hard 16•year•old beer•can•cock all the way up his ass. “What a coincidence,” Jeff said, “Finn was just about to nail me to the wall, too. You guys don’t mind if we fuck right next to you, do you?”

“Of course not,” Coach said. “You know I like to watch almost as much as you do.” “What’s Mitchell going to do while the rest of us fuck?” Max asked, concerned that the horse•dicked manager was getting left out.

“I’m going to sit against the wall,” Mitchell replied, “and suck Jeff’s watermelon🍉dick while Finn hammers it into my mouth, happily masturbating the whole time.”

“Very cool,” Max acknowledged, “so it sounds like you’re covered, but if you decide to edge instead of nutting out, feel free, please, to finish in me after I finish in Coach.”

“I think you can count on that, Max,” Mitchell said, “barring any unfortunate miscalculation on my part. Thanks.”


“…umph…Coach…” Jeff said as Finn drove his thick cock through Jeff’s sphincter and into his rectum, “we have…umph…a special favor…to ask of you…for Finn…later tonight…ugh…” Finn and Jeff were a minute or so behind Max and Coach because Jeff had insisted on watching Max penetrate his partner first, Jeff standing right beside Max with his arm around his waist, watching mesmerized as his protege’s sausage disappeared between Coach’s buns. Before Jeff had braced against the wall to receive Finn’s remarkably similar beer•can•cock, he kissed Max again hungrily, then whispered almost•silently into his ear, “I want you…desperately,” leaving the kid grinning from ear•to•ear and, suddenly, wanting the senior tight•end just as desperately, maybe moreso.

“Bring Finn over…after…you kids…are through…playing…here…” Coach grunted between every one of Max’s power•thrusts. His face and Jeff’s were less than a couple of feet away from each other’s, and they were looking into each other’s eyes throughout their double•ass•hammering. “This shit is good,” Jeff said to Coach as Finn hammered away at him, “and you, you sly fucking dog…what a fucking talent scout you turned out to be…”

“Yes it is,” Coach agreed, winking at his transfer tight•end, as Max continued emphatically nailing him to the wall. “Oh, fuck yeah, Finn!” Jeff yelped, “Queer me more…just like that!”

During a much•needed pause to delay orgasm coincidentally shared by the strapping first baseman and the sophomore back•up QB, the two beer•can•cocked tops shared a spirited high•five. They’d both been watching the other top fuck another guy whom they were eager to sample. For that matter, both tops were eager to sample each other as well. As a sweaty, panting Finn observed to a sweaty, panting Max, “This shit IS good…”

“Yes it fucking is,” Max agreed, and then suggested casually, as if he weren’t already beginning to feel that his need for Jeff was akin to his need for oxygen, “Hey, why don’t we swap?” To which Finn had replied, “That’s why they call me the Transfer Jock!” and Jeff and Coach had cried in unison, “Fuck yeah!”

And so Jeff’s beer•can•cocked new best•friend•with•benefits unplugged his thick plug from Jeff and plugged into Coach for the very first (and not the last) time, as Jeff’s new beer•can•cocked protege unplugged his thick plug from Coach and plugged into Jeff with a rapidly•growing desire for the very first (and not nearly for the last) time. To his new ‘boyfriend,’ Jeff advised, “Mitchell, dude, you’re fucking killing it…be ready to swallow…in a minute…or two…OH FUCK ME MAX!” he shouted as his beer•can•cocked protege entered him emphatically with his somewhat thicker beer•can and resumed precisely where Jeff’s beer•can•cocked best•friend had left off, but with a slightly more…nuanced or polished approach than one usually found in a 16•year•old. Which is to say, that fucking sophomore could really fuck…but not for that much longer on that particular occasion…though more than long enough to leave a lasting electric glow in Jeff’s fuck•tunnel…or heart…or somewhere. Nor, as it turned out, could the blond beer•can•cocked top last much longer.

From the sound of Finn’s concluding outburst, Jeff regretted not seeing his new best•friend’s triumphant climax, but his pangs of regret were shortly assuaged by the swelling of his new protege’s already•swollen•enough beer•can•boner, instantly followed by the protege’s own tremendous explosion deep inside him at almost the same time that his swollen member itself exploded, flooding his new boyfriend’s mouth and throat with gobs of his thick, creamy cum. After certain disentanglements, his new boyfriend, a known (and contented) masturbator, budding cock•artist and future power•bottom, managed to hold his edge just long enough to bury all ten+ inches of his giant ginger cock in Max’s velvety sophomoric rectum, the burying of which cock Jeff had watched close•up, with something like angst or envy (though not wishing to deprive Mitchell of his pleasure), and the early (but understandable) discharge of which had left the young but talented protege wanting more upperclassman penis inside him, namely his new mentor’s.

Coach had disappeared right after Finn had unplugged his thick white•blond plug from his doubly•well•fucked ass, but as he’d been leaving, he asked his lover’s ginger boyfriend to lockup when they were done, and to bring Finn and Max with them when he and Jeff came back to his house. Oh, and he was ordering pizza for his very talented ‘team.’🏈

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 Ross Watson


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