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I’d noticed Randy’s showoff tendencies.  Tight muscle shirts, swingin’ his dick around the locker room like he was god’s gift. He knew what he had and was just waiting for someone to take him up on the invitation.  And that was going to be me.  He was a touchy one though.  Always making jokes about gay this, faggot that.  Had to approach him carefully.  

That retreat weekend was perfect.  He was flattered when I asked him to room with me — the RA and assistant basketball coach.  After a pickup game of hoops we went back to the room.  Rustic cabin with thin-mattressed beds.  Big mirror on one wall though.  To my surprise he shucked his shorts and flopped down on the bed.  He was wearing a flimsy pair of white briefs underneath, which were pretty much soaked through with sweat.  This was going to be easier than I thought. “Told you we’d fuck your asses,” he bragged about their win.  

"Yeah?" I said.  Had to keep my cool.  "You’re right, our asses are well-fucked.  I can tell you do that often."  

"Fuck you," he said, and shot me a look.  His hand moved down to the thick bulge in his briefs and squeezed.  "You know you want this but are just afraid to ask."  

"Fuck you," I shot back.  If he only knew how right he was.  He didn’t move his hand, but just let it rest on his thinly-covered meat.  I decided to up the ante.  "I think it’s you who wants this."  I lifted the front of my tank and showed him my hairy abs, and at the same time hooked the front of my shorts down with my thumb to show him the bulge in my jock.  I could still just be kidding around.  

The look on his face got strangely intense.  This was a challenge.  He was going to prove who wanted who and he didn’t give a fuck.  “So you are a faggot,” he said disdainfully.  He moved his hand off his crotch and pulled the front of his sweaty muscle shirt up a little.  His cock had grown noticeably in his briefs, a thick slab of meat extending up toward his right hip under the thin sweat-soaked cloth.  He let his fingers trail around his ridged abs and into his navel.  “You fuckin’ love this shit.”  He raised his left arm and flexed his bicep into a tight ball.  “Can’t get enough.  I’ve seen you watch me in the locker room.” 

Time to set the hook.  “The way you swing that fucker around, can’t avoid it,” I said.  I acted uninterested, like I was about to get in the shower.  I stripped off my t-shirt and shorts leaving only the jock.  The thickening bulge gave me away but at this point it didn’t matter.  I made like I was getting some clean clothes out of my duffel, not looking at him.

But he was not going to be ignored.  “Look at this, faggot,” he said.  He thought he was the one in charge — it was almost cute.  He got up in front of the mirror, hiked his tight shirt up above his nipples, and flexed both arms.  His dick was really tenting out his briefs now.  “Fuckin’ perfect.”  He relaxed and let his hands travel down over his tight pecs and abs.  “You can’t ignore it.”  

I came up behind him and reached around him.  I was four inches taller and 25 pounds heavier.  He didn’t stop me as my fingertips caught each of his nipples in a gentle pinch.  The bulge in my jock pressed up against his sweaty crack through his briefs, my hairy pecs meeting his shoulder blades.  “You can’t ignore this,” I said, twisting his tits gently.  

His hand went down to his crotch again and he grabbed his stiffening shaft through the cloth.  “You’re so fuckin’ gay, dude,” he said, looking my reflection in the eye.  He was trying to keep up the front but his eyes gave him away.  There was a surrender there.  A plea.  His cock was fully hard now with the fat head poking out the side of the pouch.  In one swift motion I spun him around, dropped into a squat, and caught his cockhead in my mouth.

"Ahhhhh —" he sucked in air almost as if he was in pain.  His knees went a little weak and he slumped backwards with his shoulders against the mirror.  "Fuckin… faggot."   I pulled the pouch of his briefs to the side and his hefty balls dropped down into my palm.  Slowly I slid his thick meat deeper into my throat.  "Jeeee— sus,"  he breathed, his head dropping back.  "What the fuck are you…"  I sucked all the way down on his meat, massaging his knob with my throat muscles.  "Ohhh sweet fuckin Mary mother of God…"

I worked him for a minute as he let all of his inhibitions go, helplessly.  With each whispered curse he came closer to realizing who he really was.  When I worked first one finger and then two into his sweat-slick pussy, tapping gently on his swollen prostate, it seemed so natural that he didn’t even notice.

When I felt that extra tension that meant he was close to blowing, I slid my mouth off his cock and looked up at him past the wide, glistening shaft.  I forced my invading digits in deeper and said, “Now who wants who, boy?  Tell me.”


If you’re hard in your jock right now, you can thank musclpkg for that. Good job MP.  

Team, if you’ve got that deep down need to release, head over to MP’s blog and finish yourself off.

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CIGARMAN36 aka Australian Tom Miller


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Vintage voy.

We need more like this!!

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