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I whip Jack's shirt over his head, and he loosens the drawstring on my track pants. Grabbing his hips, I grind my erection into his and Jack moans. Pulling him against me, I turn us around and walk him to my desk, pushing his shorts and boxer briefs down as we go. He steps out of his shoes and clothes before I push him to sit on the edge of the desk, my eyes raking over his form. After two months of nonstop training and mostly eating only foods I've approved, his body is chiseled like a marble sculpture. From his shoulders down to his calves, every muscle ripples with the force of his heavy breaths. His cock, an alluring angry shade of purple and weeping with his need, juts out of his lap. I quickly move some of my things to the side so he can lean back, and then I direct his feet to the edge of the desk. He's splayed out before me like an offering.
I remove the rest of my clothes and stand between his spread legs, examining the prize before me. His cock is throbbing, and it feels as though my own heartbeat skips to match its rhythm. Like I did before, I press our cocks together and wrap my hand around them, stroking them. Jack's head falls back, and he moans. I know he won't last long, but I plan to wring more than one orgasm out of him.
"Come for me, Jack," I tell him, and it's like he was waiting for my permission. His hips buck into mine and he cries out as his cock jerks and spurts.
Hot, sticky fluid splashes against both of our stomachs and coats my hand. I spread it over my erection and use it to stroke myself, rubbing the dripping end of my cock against his asshole. Jack tenses at first, but then relaxes and keeps his legs wide, accepting me.
"I'm not going to fuck you, Jack. But I am going to make you cum again before you clean me up." He almost whimpers, and I push his chest to direct him to lie back on the desk. Grabbing his legs just behind his knees, I push them up on his chest and instruct him to hold his legs. His cheeks spread wider with the position. Standing between his legs, I give my cock a few more strokes before I shoot ropes of cum all over his ass.
Trailing my fingers through the mess that is dripping over his ass, I rub it around the tight ring of muscle before pushing my fingers inside. I start with two, and he hisses out a breath. The pants of pain quickly become moans as he begins to stretch, his body accommodating to the girth of my fingers. I add another, and Jack gasps. His cock is hard and ready again.
Wrapping my fist around his stiff length, I stroke him while pumping my fingers into his ass. Every time the pads of my fingers hit the soft, spongy spot inside him, he lets out a groan. When I can feel him getting close again, I push my fingers inside and massage his prostate while I continue to stroke his cock in my tight fist.
"Fuuuuucccckkkk," Jack moans, his body tensing and shaking. The tight ring of his ass begins to pulse and his cock jerks wildly as he ejaculates.
Thank God there's no one in the building this late at night, because Jack shouts loudly with the force of his orgasm, nearly lurching off the desk.
"Fuck," Jack repeats, laying boneless across the desk, trying to catch his breath.
He looks so fucking good splayed out and covered in cum, both mine and his, that I nearly reconsider fucking him. I want so badly to sink my cock into his ass and feel him squeeze around me the way he did my fingers, to see my cum dripping from his gaping hole when I'm through ruining him.
Instead, I grab a towel from the shelf where I keep my extra gym clothes, and wipe the cum from his body, and notice some has dripped onto the dark green carpet. I wipe at the mess, but it leaves a small white stain behind.
I start to clean myself up, but Jack sits up and grabs the towel from me. He wipes the cum from my chest and stomach, bending forward to take my lips in a light and experimental kiss.
I blink rapidly, not sure what to think. It was different when the kiss was passionate and carnal, but this tenderness is not something I'm expecting or even looking for.
He pulls back with an expression that looks just as confused as I feel, before shuffling off the desk and dropping to his knees to clean me up, just like I told him to.
CHAPTER 15
JACK
I open my small closet and look over my new wardrobe. Coach didn't just buy me a new suit. There are two full suits, a vest, two pairs of slacks, five button-down shirts, six ties, and several collared shirts that are meant to be "casual."
First of all, none of this is me. Second of all, I'm starting to feel like some kind of secret whore. I'm okay with him telling me what to eat and how to workout, but controlling what I'm wearing off the field? I’m certain this must be a test. I just haven't decided how I'm going to take on the challenge.
For today, though, at the fancy donor brunch, I'll wear the light grey suit, white shirt, and dark green tie that he has instructed me to wear. I also, with his permission, went into town and got a haircut yesterday. Normally I just buzz my head myself, but this time I did something a little different, and it’s more stylish than I'm used to. The sides are cut short and faded, but I had them keep the top long so Coach can have something to grip onto.
I don’t know who I am anymore.
It's been a little strange between us the past week. After the hot make-out session in his office that led to me lying spread eagle on his desk and almost begging for a dick in my ass, he seems to be pulling away from me. He's still rewarding me, feeding me his cock on an almost daily basis, and when I'm really good, he does that thing with his fingers that blows my fucking mind.
But he hasn't tried to kiss me again, and I haven't tried either. I'm a little intimidated by the fact that I want him to kiss me. Hell, I might even want his mouth on my lips more than I want it on my dick. Well, almost.
The walk to the sports complex is hot, and I'm glad it's going to be an indoor event. I feel like I'm about to sweat through this suit and look like a slob, despite all of my efforts to look presentable.
We're supposed to meet in the locker room and walk into the cafeteria together, which has been decorated to look like a fancy restaurant. There was a whole interior design team here all day yesterday, and we couldn't use the field because they redid all the lines so it would look shiny and new. Luckily for us, that meant a half day of practice and our first chance for some time off since July 4th.
Unfortunately for me, it meant an afternoon of assessments with my new tutor. She's nice enough and is apparently a teaching assistant for someone in the English department. I'm strangely not distracted by her tits, but I wondered fleetingly if Coach knew who he was setting me up with for tutoring. Not that every girl wants to jump my dick, but I do have a tendency to weasel my way into a lot of girl's panties.
Or at least I did. Fuck, it's been a month and a half since I fucked around with those girls at the party. I'm not sure I've gone this long without a piece of ass since I hit puberty and started playing football.
I suppose I am still getting some action, just a different kind.
My eyes follow a few of the cheerleaders and dates that came here with the other players. I definitely still appreciate a tight ass and a pair of tits. I've never looked at a dude and thought, damn, I want a piece of that. That is, until that day I walked in on Coach working out. Although, I suppose I refused to acknowledge any sort of real sexual attraction before the day he came on my face and left me on the floor of that supply closet.
Since then, he's all I think about. I eat, breathe, and dream Bryant Nicks on an almost obsessive level.
