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The Transfer Jock (55) -- By Jack Richards


"'Grr', technically, isn't a word!"



“This is going to sound goofy, I know,” Jeff said to Max, “because I really just met you again for the first time, like a few hours ago, so I don’t want you to say a fucking word in response…You promise? But I may have, I think I did…I kind of fell in love with you…I haven’t been trying you out for anything, Max…except for maybe the rest of my life. Don’t say a fucking word, not now, you promised.”
That was when Max’s persistent erection became too insistent for either of them to ignore, or, more specifically, during the desperate, passionate kiss with which Max had responded to Jeff, since he had promised not to say a word. “Grrr,” Max growled as he entered Jeff emphatically, and that was OK, because ‘Grrr’ technically isn’t a word.


“You said ‘seven•jocks•on•Coach train’ earlier,” Max said to Jeff as they limped back to the house to check on the status of Finn’s anal virginity, following the completion of their third set of flip•flops (including that first prematurely busted set), “so the seven are, obviously, you, Mitchell, Dewey, Finn, Alex…and?”
“And Landen,” Jeff replied. “We originally planned for six jocks. When Coach and I talked first thing tonight, it was so I could make sure him nailing Finn was nailed down, and to tell him that I was sorry if I was about to step on his toes for snatching you right out from under his nose, which I was about to do, but that you and I had gotten zapped by a thunderbolt that was going to require some serious fucking exploration. And Coach was cool with that, mostly because he feels guilty as shit about all of this…but the way he sees it, he crossed a serious, self•imposed red•line with you since you’re still 16, after he’d already skipped right across his previous no•17•year•olds red•line, which I basically forced him to do by baiting his trap with Mitchell, who nobody, not even a Catholic priest, could turn down.”
Max laughed. “I’m loving the image of Mitchell as an altar boy.”
“Anyway,” Jeff continued, “I asked Coach if I could pencil you in for Sunday night, subject to your approval, and he was all for crossing his no•16•year•olds red•line one more time, figuring that if he was getting fucked in the ass by six student•athletes in a line, which will be six separate felonies, what the fuck difference does one more make…so that’s where seven came from.”
“Yeah, I don’t mind Coach drawing a red•line at 16•year•olds,” Max said, because everybody has to have standards, you know? Like if he made an exception for me again, which I had to convince him to do the first time, then what happens when some exceptional 15•year•old comes along? And then a 14•year•old? And, I’ll tell you, Jeff, I really don’t know that I want to do that Sunday thing anyway.”
“An avid fucker like you pass up a fucking gang•bang?” Jeff asked, not believing his ears. “I must not have been clear enough…Coach wants to cross his line with you Sunday night, if you want to come. And I damn sure want you there.” They decided they’d better get in the hot tub to finish their conversation since they plainly couldn’t do that before they got to the back door.
“No, that’s not it,” Max said. “I’d fuck Coach again in a minute, you know, one last time. My problem is Landen, not that he’s a bad guy…and ‘problem’ is even too strong a word…but I don’t really want to be around him…not in that kind of setting.” ‘Nor alone in the shower with him, either,’ but Max didn’t say that.
“What happened with Landen?” Jeff bristled, instantly ready to go fight Landen for whatever horrible thing he’d done to Max. “I’ll fight him.”
“Nothing happened, Jeff, so just chill, OK?”
“Last I heard you were fucking Landen,” Jeff countered, “and now you won’t even go to a gang•bang if he’s gonna be there? Something fucking happened.”
“I’m not fucking Landen. I have fucked Landen…a few times,” Max replied. “But…you know, you’re fucking Landen, too. Not too, because I quit fuck—”
“I’m not fucking Landen,” Jeff interrupted. “I mean, I have fucked Landen before, but not since…well, this afternoon. That was different, though. I had to.”
“Well, maybe being with Landen the other times was different for you than it was for me,” Max said, “but for me it got to be no fun, pretty quickly…like he wouldn’t even think about fucking me, too, which you know I like…then he just unilaterally cut out the usual oral foreplay before I’d fuck him, which I’d enjoyed more than fucking him—’
“Right? I have to admit I really like sucking Landen’s cock,” Jeff interjected. “Like his dick is nice and fat, but just the right size for sucking, not like Mitchell’s, which is an amazing cock, but sucking that dick can dislocate your fucking jaw.”
“So blowing Landen was off the table, for reasons he never explained,” Max continued, “but he’d jack off while I was packing his fudge…basically, it got to where when we hooked•up, he’d drop his pants and I’d nail him while he masturbated, ten minute deal, tops. I’d just as soon jack off watching porn. I mean, fucking Landen just got to be another chore, so I told him last weekend I didn’t want any more chores. He didn’t take it very well.”
“What pisses me off about Landen, besides whatever that slap•dick did to you, which we’re about to get back to,” Jeff said, “is that you and I were both tapping him at about the same time, and he’d apparently tell you I was fucking him, but he never told me he was getting tapped by you. Like he was keeping you secret from me, and all week, or since yesterday, he’s been wearing out my phone to hook him up with Coach. Now what did that fucker do to you?”
“It’s really nothing,” Max said, “and I handled it. I just don’t want to hang around naked with him while guys are fucking Coach and whoever else. But he blew up my phone all week, too, trying to get me back on board Team Landen. I was polite, but said no every time. I finally had to block his number, though, when he wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone. Then I made a stupid fucking mistake after practice today. He and I were in the last group of guys in the shower. I knew Coach was on towel duty, so for once I waited to get my towel until after I showered so Coach could see all of my cock he wanted to. Well, I was thinking about the play I was gonna make for Coach while I was showering, and not paying attention to what was going on around me. Which was that everyone else, except Landen, had left the showers. That fucker came up to me and grabbed my cock, hard, and told me that if didn’t fuck him in his car in the parking lot just as fucking fast as I could get down there he was going to tell Coach that I was molesting the JV kids and get me kicked off the team.”
“Well, I happen to know that you were fucking Coach and not Landen right after practice,” Jeff said, “so what did you say to Landen to make him go away?”
“I grabbed him by his fucking throat and slammed him against the wall,” Max replied, “which surprised the fuck out of him. Then I told him that I didn’t give a shit about any true thing he said about me to anybody, but that if he told so much as a half•lie to the school nurse, I was going to break his throwing arm in four places.”
“I’d say you handled it, alright, but I’m still going to fight him,” Jeff said, laughing, proud of Max’s ferocity. “And there’s still the question of revenge.” “I’m not following you,” Max replied.
“Simple, to the point, and not even noticeably directed at Landen, except Landen will fucking know,” Jeff said, warming to the idea he’d just had. “First of all, that slap•dick will be shocked just to see you included. Then, what would fuck with Landen more than for him to have to watch you take your turn with Coach? Except…for not only seeing that but also having to watch you fuck ME? So I’m thinking we draw numbers to determine the order of Coach•fucking. I rig that so I’m No. 5, you’re 6 and he’s 7. While I’m taking my turn, you sandwich me, right in front of ol’ Landen. Now there is a rule that everybody’s first load has to be deposited in Coach’s ass, so don’t get carried away with me. When I nut, you move up in line, you do what you’re really there to do, which is to hammer the fuck out of Coach, while Landen watches you do Coach instead of him. And then after Landen’s turn, go fuck somebody else in front of him.”
“I’ll think about it,” Max said, smiling. “I kinda like the idea…but not fucking somebody else, fucking you again where Landen’ll be sure to see.”
“Jesus Fucking Christ,” Jeff said as he and Max re•entered Coach’s living room (holding hands), about an hour•and•a•half after they’d left it, to find Coach rimming Finn in the middle of the floor, “Have you STILL not fucked this poor transfer•jock yet? All he wants is the big D, Coach, and here you are continuing to tease him.”
“I’m about to,” Coach replied, laughing. “We got sidetracked by a short nap, followed by a second masterful ass•fucking administered by this stud baseball player to yours truly.” Coach was kneeling on the floor with the big first baseman’s legs draped over his shoulders, Finn’s hairy blond butt•cheeks were cupped in his hands, both thumbs in his crack, spreading his cheeks apart.
“Hey, buddy,” Jeff said to Finn, “I’m really sorry I left you all alone with this fucking mad•man, but I did warn you that there was nothing that this dirty old man would like more than for you to bone the fuck out of him all night long. I have to admit, though, that even I thought he could be trusted not to demand payment before he’d earned it.”
Finn laughed. “He’s been doing all kinds of vile and unspeakable shit to me,” he said, “so it’s all good.”
Coach came up for air to say, “All part of my brand new cherry•removal program. Nothing relaxes the sphincter of a hot•as•fuck virginal homo like two robust orgasms.”
“So that’s what you’re calling lechery now?” Jeff replied, laughing. He ducked around behind Coach for a different perspective on his work, tugging Max along with him. Jeff noted with interest the riot of curly cotton•blond hair filling Finn’s crack as well as his puckered pink asshole, opening slightly as Coach’s curled tongue drilled back into him. Finn looked just about ready to fuck, and good enough to eat.
“Hey, what color is my asshole?” Jeff suddenly asked Max. “Huh?” Max reasonably replied. “What color is my asshole?” Jeff repeated. “See how pink Finn’s is? Mitchell’s is just like that. Your delicious hole is nut•brown, Dewey’s is dark, almost black, pink on the inside, of course. Coach’s is more like tan. I’m just curious, I’ve never looked at my own asshole.”
“Never?” Max asked, arching an eyebrow. “Hey, what kind of pervert do you think I am?” Jeff responded, laughing.
“Well, it was too dark at the cabana,” Max said, “and I don’t remember seeing your asshole when Finn and I swapped in the shower…I think I entered you by feel then. Hold on…” Max knelt behind Jeff, spread his cheeks and inspected his bulls•eye. Then he stood up and double•checked Jeff’s chest to confirm his initial impression. “Your asshole is the exact same color as your nipples,” Max reported.
“Thanks for checking on that for me. What do I taste like?” Jeff asked mischievously.
Max dropped to a knee and spread his cheeks again, wider this time, licking and sucking his nipple•colored anus, then burrowing his tongue in deeper as he’d seen Coach doing.
“Oh fuck me,” Jeff groaned. Max gave Jeff just a little more personal attention before standing up to complete his report. “Your asshole tastes just like my cum,” he said. All four of them laughed.
“Ooops,” Jeff said mock•sheepishly. “I’d fuck him now, Coach,” he added as Finn began to moan. “Can we watch?”🏈

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 Phillip Swarbrick


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