A gay story: Varsity Players Varsity Players
Two football jocks experiment with each other
This is an entirely fictional story. It is set at the University of Pittsburgh, but it could be anywhere. Some of the other places are made-up. All characters engaged in sexual activity are over 18. © 2023, All rights reserved. Brunosden
The annual football end-of-season party had just broken up. And the two youngest members of the team–Billy Templeton and Tad Stevenson–knew it was their job to handle the cleanup. The event had been held in the jock dorm basement commons room which had a large flat screen where the Saturday evening game had been played. About two dozen team-mates and their dates had been enjoying the “beer and wings” bash–an annual event, this year held on the night of the semi-final match in their division–which would determine one of the two teams going to the final tourney. Although most were too young to drink legally, officials looked the other way at the annual event–in fact at most campus parties–provided campus police were vigilant and “collected keys” to avoid driving issues.
Pitt was not in the finals this year, but the party was scheduled nevertheless. The tradition: if Pitt is in the finals, the bash is a victory bash, held one week after the finals; if not, it was held on the “Semi-Saturday,” when the semi-final game was telecast. The party had been raucous–the players shouting out encouragement, advice, and disdain over various plays that had been called, succeeded or flubbed. The room was a mess. Plastic drink cups, napkins, plates and various plastic utensils were piled everywhere. Few had bothered to use the large plastic receptacles that had been placed around the room. And the furniture had all been moved for maximum viewing, and of course maximum privacy–as the players made out with their dates during time outs and half time. There were no windows and the only light came from the ceiling fluorescents which had been off during the match. After the game, most guys took their dates upstairs or home–and the room was flooded with blinding light to permit a thorough cleanup–a condition exacted by the University–regular cleaning staff were not required to deal with parties.
Knowing they were going to be bartenders, waiters and clean-up crew for the event meant that neither had invited a date. Billy and Tad labored for over an hour, collecting trash, throwing a few items of “intimate apparel” in the lost and found, and even swabbing the floor to mop up the spilled bear and wing sauce. The place was looking pretty good. The wide screen had been rented for the event and would be theirs until Monday when the agency came to pick it up. So when they finished, they grabbed a couple of those ubiquitous red plastic cups and parked themselves in front of the screen to begin their own party.
Tad was an up and coming quarterback, second string varsity–in his sophomore year. He and Billy (a fullback) were the only sophs on the varsity team, and would doubtless be starters next year. Billy already had had a year as the leading ground gainer on the team. So they had also become room-mates at the Shenley dorm, reserved for elite athletes. Their presence in the backfield almost always confused defense–they were a double threat, pass or run, either was possible; both were credible. All they needed was an end who could catch and a coach that could fake-out the defense with unusual play calls.
Tad was about 6-3, slim, lightly muscled and long-legged, with crew-cut dirty blonde hair, dark blue eyes and a square jaw. And he had the typical runner’s high small butt. Tad was cut and about 7 1/2 inches–but the neo-natal surgeon had been kind and left him a thick corona scar–like a starched Elizabethan collar around the neck of a dark Beefeater’s head. It gave his cock a regal air.
Billy was really very different–5-11, 235, wide and muscled, with an ass built by thousands of squats, thick thighs and a barrel chest with slab pecs and solid nipples. He had curly black hair, dark brown eyes, and a nearly hairless mocha complexion–suggesting mixed ancestry, perhaps Native American or Latino. His cock was dark, really dark, uncut, thick and about the same length as Tad’s, but thicker. The gentle curve, when it was erect, gave it a natural beauty–and incidentally, some very nice utility inside a pussy.
He was the youngest son of a large family with three boys and three girls. His father was a rough, long-haul driver, based in California. He lived for football. Billy was his “trophy.” Billy was obviously on a football scholarship–he had been All-State before “going East.”
Tad was “almost local”–from Central Pennsylvania where his parents were both high school teachers. He was an exceptional student, an American Civ major, and his grades reflected it, while Billy was struggling to stay eligible to play, taking mostly business courses aimed at athletes. So Tad did a lot of tutoring–and his tutoring had earned him a natural alpha position in their relationship–although Billy was clearly bigger and much stronger. And Billy didn’t seem to mind the help–or the attention. He was a big step above dumb jock, a good-natured, smiling, friendly bro–until you handed him pigskin on the field. Then he was an enraged bull.
Tad had planned carefully for tonight. He had been looking forward to this evening for some time. Tonight he was going to take Billy to a new place from which Tad hoped there would be no return. He had been attracted to Billy for almost two years, but Billy at first seemed not to notice. They had met on the JV practice field more than a year ago and had been roommates since the beginning of this year. They enjoyed a casual nudity in the room, frequent bro hugs and ass taps,and occasionally showered and jerked together.
Then a few months ago, Tad returned from a date, quite high and very horned–she hadn’t been “into him” (which meant of course, that he hadn’t gotten into her). Billy was already in the room and sleeping. Tad stripped and fell into bed, pretending not to realize it was Billy’s bed. Billy was out and slid over to make room. If he had, Tad would have feigned deeper drunkenness and retreated. But that didn’t happen. Billy just flipped on his side and moved over. Soon Tad had wrapped himself around Billy’s warm naked body and pulled him tightly into his own, positioning his rock hard dick between Billy’s thighs. He shot into his fist a few seconds later and transferred his cum to his boxers.
The next morning, when the guys awakened, Tad was spooning Billy, and Billy’s wood was hard in Tad’s tight fist while Tad’s rigid cock was sliding along Billy’s moist cleft. Billy, in his morning, semi-consciousness didn’t protest. The rest followed naturally. They moved automatically until both guys relieved the other, and then they both went to shower and dress. Not a word had been spoken.
Over the next few weeks, there were many occasions when they stroked each other to orgasm, always as a result of something Tad initiated and always without a word. They were unspoken and unspeaking stroke buddies, and Billy was falling into the pattern. He waited patiently for Tad to start something; then he participated vigorously–and silently. Tad was enjoying the situation, but it worried him some that Billy, although generally a willing follower into sex, never used words to acknowledge it. Perhaps that was the way Billy was dealing with the situation–he couldn’t be gay or bi if he didn’t say he was. Meanwhile, he was soaking up Tad’s attention.
Tad hooked up his laptop (into which he had loaded a number of MMF porn features), turned it on, stripped off his jeans, and plopped onto the sofa. Billy grabbed his cup and sat down beside him. Within minutes both of the guys were rock hard. Billy expected Tad to reach over and grab his shaft, but he was surprised. Instead, Tad reached around and pulled Billy back-down into his lap. Eyes remained glued to the screen where one hunk was screwing a bimbo while another big guy with a porn-sized dick was mounting the hunk. One of Tad’s hands was snaking its way slowly, but steadily, under Billy’s sweats’ waistband while the other was pinching his nipples and cupping his hardened pecs. Billy was commando! So Tad continued, stroking, caressing the balls, reaching under to tease the taint. Billy was moaning in contentment and aching for more. So Tad reached farther and using Billy’s precum moistened his index finger and rimmed. Billy shivered, but bucked up and spread his legs far apart, inviting more. Tad inserted a finger; then two; then three, slowly opening him up, beginning to finger-fuck his buddy. Billy was breathing hard, darkening and his hardened nipples were pushing through his tee. He was definitely enjoying the seduction.
Tad assumed he had Billy pretty much where he wanted him. Billy was panting with desire and pushing up into Tad’s stimulating fingers. So he withdrew his hand, pulled off Billy’s tee, then his own, and pushed Billy’s sweats to the floor. Billy was naked and aroused and ready for anything Tad wanted.
So Tad took a chance. He pulled Billy back into his lap, this time chest to chest, thighs straddling Tad’s legs, with Billy’s ass parked nicely on Tad’s erection. Tad sucked on his neck, then his ear lobes and finally kissed his lips. Another first. Billy knew what to do. Hell, he was famous for his Frenching. His lips opened and tongues dueled. His arms went up and around Tad to insure the lip-lock would persist. Tad could feel Billy’s ass muscles gripping and releasing his pole. Consciously or not, Billy was giving a very good imitation of a lap dance.
Tad reached around and grasped the muscled orbs of Billy’s ass. He stroked, massaged and plunged fingers into the cleft, finding and entering the hole. Billy was alive with sex. His cock was drooling pre-cum as he sought friction on Tad’s abs. The hood had drawn back and exposed a glistening dark red glans and a wide deep slit. Tad pushed up from the cushion and slipped out of his jock. Now it was bare skin on bare skin–and Tad’s cock was slithering through Billy’s channel.
It was now or never. Tad pushed Billy up from his lap and Billy did the rest using his beefy thighs to raise himself. Tad positioned his cock at Billy’s entrance and quickly lubed his shaft and the entrance. Billy was quivering in invitation. He was ready to be fucked. And Tad was ready to do the deed. Tad released his grip and Billy began to descend–pausing for a second or two here and there, his eyes rolling up into the sockets. Tad felt the tightness of the first ring, actually heard the pop, and reveled in the slide. Then his wide corona scraped Billy’s love nerve bundle. Billy’s eyes shot open. Billy’s sensuous, sleepy face was showing shock–or was that pleasure? Tad at first thought he had pushed too hard, too fast. But no, Billy was reacting to the surprise and the incredible wonder of the pleasure of the prostate. He whispered in Tad’s ear (the first words he had ever spoken during their many sexual times together), “Fuck, that’s good. Where has he been all my life?”
Tad knew he had him. The next few minutes were a blur of pleasure: stroke, scrape, suck, caress, push in hard, squeeze. Billy was a natural power bottom. He was all motion: using muscles to milk, lips to suck, arms to insure a tight embrace. And Tad was exactly where he wanted to be: deep inside his friend, throbbing in anticipation, getting ready to fill him with hot, fertile spunk. Tad was cocked and loaded; his gut contracted to a hardened six-pac. One last thrust. One last groan of pleasure from Billy. Billy exploded into their near touching chests, And Tad stiffened his stretched-out legs and began to pump and fill his partner. Then there was peace and silence as the guys held tightly to each other. The cum began to drip out of Billy–and Billy’s cum began to congeal on their rippled abs. Billy squeezed. He wanted Tad to stay inside. He loved the feeling of fullness. Billy pushed into Tad. He wanted his spunk to glue them together.
A few minutes later, with the musky aroma of spunk filling the air and as Billy’s chest began to relax into Tad’s, Billy looked into Tad’s eyes. Here it comes, Tad thought. “Do it again stud.”
Tad pushed Billy from his lap and stood. This was far better than he could have expected. Billy was taking this very well. Tad motioned Billy to the back cushion of the sofa and pushed him down into it. Billy’s ass, his magnificent muscled ass, was presented with a perfect arch in his lower back. Tad moved behind him, as hard and as long as he had ever been. No lube was required. His spunk was still dripping down inside Billy’s thigh. He had already dropped an enormous load.
Tad positioned, grabbed the deep dimples in Billy’s hips and pushed. Billy was a natural. He opened and pushed back. Tad was in and bottomed with one long stroke. Billy hissed as Tad’s cock scraped the love nut yet again. Tad stroked long and hard. And Billy was murmuring, “Fuck yes. Fuck yes. Fuck yes.” with each stroke. Wordless sex was gone. Tad had the key to Billy’s sex voice box–it was his prostate. The stroking continued as the room filled with the reflected flickering images of the screen fucking and the groans of the porn actors. Tad had cum only minutes before. But finally, he felt the sap rising from his boiling hot balls. The second orgasm is always better than the quick first. He stretched his chest over Billy’s back and pushed hard. With one hand, he grabbed Billy’s cock and began to stroke, using the hood to increase the pleasure. With the other, he held Billy’s shoulder so that he could push ever deeper. And then they began the relentless spasming of release, collapsing over the sofa back, still linked by Tad’s long dick.
Later they rose, completed the party cleanup in the nude and moved upstairs. There was no question: From that night, Tad was in Billy’s bed and Billy was the “little” spoon. Tad had his fuck partner whenever he wanted him–and Billy was ready whenever. The only surprise: Billy never seemed to want to fuck Tad; he was a willing receiver.
And also from that night, their relationship changed. Billy became fiercely protective of Tad–but paradoxically, also fiercely dependent on Tad. The tutoring continued, and both guys finished the year–Tad making the Dean’s list; Billy with grades sufficient to maintain football eligibility. Both continued to date, Billy probably a bit more, although neither felt the pressure to date every available night. Of course, the sex continued–and Billy was never silent again. He was learning to encourage Tad to deeper and rougher treatment. But their relationship remained a secret–at least they were pretty sure it was. Tad, however, wasn’t entirely sure what Billy thought was going on. They never talked about it.
Being apart for the summer was a non-starter. Billy lived in Bakersfield, far away–and the summer would be a short one because of summer football practice. So they took a small apartment on Mt. Washington across the river and commuted together to construction sites where they were day labor–until football summer practice would begin in mid-August. They loved the strenuous, muscle-demanding hot days, the joint showers in the privacy of an apartment (often after an end-of-work-day bout of dirty sex), the even hotter nights, and weekends at Tad’s folks’ lake cabin, a few hours outside the city. Billy always bottomed–and typically stretched out on his belly. Tad always fucked. Billy always sucked. Tad fell easily into a dominant, top, authoritarian figure. A Daddy? They also fell into a domestic routine. Tad cooked. Billy did laundry and kept the place reasonably clean. By the end of the summer, it was clear to Tad at least that they were a couple. He still wasn’t sure how Billy was dealing with them. Where did he think this was going? It only remained to deal with the upcoming football season and the rest of the team. They were obviously still in the closet.
*********
Soon the summer was over, at least for the various squads of Panthers, but obviously the hot, humid weather persisted well beyond the August 20 “first day of practice.” Practices were typically held early and late and with only minimal clothes–shorts, jocks, tees, shoulder pads, cleats. It was a real display of sweaty, hard, tanned muscle.
Tad and Billy had decided to go off campus for their junior year and had found an apartment–a former housekeeper’s quarters over a three-car garage on Morewood, a short walk from campus. The main house was huge, dark stone, Victorian and forbidding, but the apartment had been refreshed and had a small kitchen and one bedroom–although the guys assumed they would be taking most meals at the “training table” made available to elite athletes at a school which was always a contender in the ACC. The homeowner was a surgeon, an avid Pitt fan and had rented the place to them for a song–and an occasional appearance at “Sunday Supper,” typically after an afternoon of TV football. Tad guessed he might be gay, but didn’t discuss it with Billy. If the landlord began to demand more than cash rent, they would deal with it then.
This was expected to be a great year for Pitt. There had been two “building years” and several of the coaches had been hired the previous season. Fans expected a championship team. And Tad and Billy were expected to be an important part of that success.
By the time classes started, it was obvious to the team and the coaches that Tad and Billy were probably more than just friends. They arrived and left together; they lived together; Tad was Billy’s tutor; their lockers were adjacent. But more than any of that was the incredibly fierce protectiveness that Billy exhibited toward Tad. Anyone who touched Tad–during a game or in practice–soon had Billy to contend with. Some assumed they were just really close bros; but others assumed more was going on. But, it was none of their business. And the “friendship” had created a backfield duo that stunned most of their competitors–they seemed to sense who had the best play opportunity–before anyone else realized. The Panthers won the first six games that season–including most of the toughest teams in their division. Tad had league-leading pass completions and Billy was near the top for running yardage. No one was going to risk questions that might ruin a winning combination.
*******
It was a Sunday afternoon–Pitt had crushed Wake Forest the previous day to maintain an unbeaten season. Tad and Billy were seated in Woody’s (for Woodrow F. Peabody, the surgeon and their landlord) man-cave. Apparently the entire house was a man-cave. There was no evidence of any female influence in the place–although the sparsely furnished rooms were clean. The “manager” of the house was a young blonde Swedish guy (small, short, about 25 and very gregarious) with a degree in culinary arts and restaurant management. Woody apparently had money. And just as apparently, Tad concluded Woody was gay. So it seemed was “Britt.” His duties in the “manor” probably included more than supervising the once a week cleaning crew and cooking dinners.
The Sunday game turned out to be a blow-out. So conversation was wider than normal. And by the fourth quarter, all four guys had had quite a few. Woody and Britt seemed to be really enjoying having two young good looking jocks in their midst. And they weren’t bashful about stroking and hugging each other. Britt particularly had Billy’s crotch in his direct line of sight, hoping perhaps that his ample bulge would edge out of the sweat shorts he wore, obviously without a jock. Maybe they were expecting more. Britt finally broke the ice. “You guys are gay, aren’t you? My gaydar is hardly ever wrong. And you guys are pinging loudly.”
Tad was stunned and silent. He had never discussed his sexual status with anyone–let alone a near stranger. Billy’s eyes widened and darted to Tad. Britt had used the forbidden word. “I am not gay. I go with girls. All the time. I like girls. I’m a damn good fullback. I’m a Panther for Chrissakes. And, I’m not gay.” He stood, stiffened his abs, and puffed out his chest. “Do I look like a gay to you? Do I? A guy is not gay just because he’s hung.” With the latter words, he grabbed his dick and wagged it threateningly at Britt.
“Sorry. Honest mistake. You and Tad live together–and you act like a married couple. I just assumed. At any rate, your secret is good with me.”
“Well, there is no secret. I am not gay.”
“That’s not what I meant–I meant that you’re hung.”
Billy blushed deeply. Rarely had he threatened with his size–or his dick. And certainly not their landlord’s boyfriend.
Woody stood. “Anyone for another round? This game sucks. Let’s plan on an early supper. Britt has apologized. We won’t talk about this again. But, I want you both to know that I don’t stereotype people. Gays don’t have to be effeminate. Football players can be gay. Hell, I’m one of the top surgeons in this town–and I’m gay and proud of it. Everyone knows. If it bothers anyone, tough shit. I don’t care. So it doesn’t matter to me what you both are. I invited you to stay here because I like being around athletes–and you guys sure fit that description. End of story.”
Tad rose from his recliner. He had been quiet through all of this. “Woody, I think we’re going to pass on dinner tonight. Billy and I are pretty tired–we’ve been pushing practices hard this last week–and I’ve certainly had enough to drink. We’re going to head out if you don’t mind. I think maybe we need some time to talk.”
Tad and Billy grabbed the Pitt hoodies they had deposited on the newel post, and, murmuring thanks, left for the garage apartment. Somehow, Tad just knew that he had a situation on his hands. And his mind was rapidly trying to play out some scenarios which would not destroy what he and Billy had together. How could Billy possibly think that their year old relationship was not gay? It was clear that Billy’s denial was sincere, not a deflective comment. Billy wasn’t cleverly diplomatic enough to pull that off.
They were soon in the apartment. There was nothing they needed to do to stall. Neither needed another shower–or another beer–or dinner. They needed to talk, and Billy was notoriously NOT a talker. But, this time, he did start. “Tad, I can’t be gay. My Dad would kill me. He’s so proud that he’s got a big bad fullback for a son. He’s a long distance truck driver. Very macho. Very religious. You should hear him talk with his friends about me. Besides, I do like girls. All shapes and sizes–but mostly cute, small, and big-breasted. I like them soft and warm. I love sucking tits. I love fucking a tight pussy as she screams for more. I love palming a soft ass and pulling her up onto my dick as she tries to wrap her legs around me. I don’t talk gay. I don’t walk gay. I don’t act gay. Look at this body. Does this look like a gay body to you? But, I’ve always been an over-sexed guy. I used to beat off a half dozen times a day when I was in high school. I was hard all the time. And over the last year, I’ve learned that I like it when you stroke me–or fill me up with your tool. I always get off–and usually big-time. I’m just a sexy guy. I really like sex! But, it’s only you Tad. I wouldn’t let another guy touch me.”
Tad realized that Billy had not given such a speech in the two years they had known each other. Billy was definitely trying to understand himself. Somehow he had convinced himself that allowing Tad, his tutor, teammate and closest friend (and maybe authority figure?) to fuck him was not gay. The occasions when he had sucked Tad had all involved alcohol. It was a bro thing. Not a gay thing. But, then he realized that there was a line they had not crossed. Billy loved being fucked, but he had never even suggested that he wanted to fuck Tad–maybe that was the act that defined gayness for Bllly–being a top and fucking a guy. It sounded upside-down to Tad, but who knows how people rationalize their behavior.
Tad knew that he was gay, and he knew that he wanted Billy for a partner. What he did or said next was going to be “make or break”. He just knew it.
“Billy, let me tell you how I feel about all this.”
“Gay is just a label–and most labels applied to human beings, guys, don’t mean much. What someone calls you is irrelevant. It’s only what you think–and feel–that matters.”
“And there is no such thing as a typical gay. Hell, I wouldn’t have guessed Woody was gay until he told us he was–although after meeting Britt, I was beginning to think that he liked having a young boy in his house, maybe his bed. Britt on the other hand seems pretty obvious. But there are effeminate guys who are not gay–and they get hit on all the time.”
“I like you Billy. I like living with you. You’re absolutely my best friend. I feel how protective you are of me. I feel the same way about you. I wouldn’t hurt you or have you hurt for anything. And I like helping you with your academic challenges. I’m in this for the long haul.”
“And I love fucking that ass. I’ve never enjoyed sex more in my life. Taking and giving pleasure–with someone as big and tough and manly as you are really turns me on. Maybe that makes me gay. But, I just don’t think about it. I guess I really don’t care what others might think. It’s more important that we’re together.”
“You can continue to be whatever you want to be, Billy. Just so long as we keep being what we are to each other.”
“And now, I’d like you to try something else.” Tad started to undress. “Strip down boy. I want you to fuck me. It’s about time. I want you to know what it feels like to fuck a man’s ass.”
Billy looked stunned and froze. This was a new role–following a traumatic afternoon that had drained him mentally. He had never fucked a guy. And Tad was his teacher, his Dad, his idol. Guys like that fucked. They didn’t get fucked. Certainly not by dumb dudes.
Tad, realizing that Billy was stiff, nearly catatonic, wondered whether his theory of how to go forward might be wrong. But, he had committed. He simply couldn’t back off now. He also knew he had to take this by stages with Billy. Billy needed to be told what to do and how to do it–at least for the first time. So, Tad put on his authority voice, “I said, strip down, BOY. Or do I have to do it for you? I want you starkers in one minute.” Billy snapped. He was a star athlete. He did what coach commanded–always. So he quickly stripped. He wasn’t hard, but his huge dark cock hung threateningly in a beautiful arch over his balls. Tad knelt before him and took his soft dark dick in hand. He slipped the hood back and his tongue came out to wash the head. He tongued the slit as he bounced the heavy sacs. That’s all it took. Billy was hard and leaking within a minute. Tad stood, grabbed Billy’s club, and pulled him by it, like a leash, to the bedroom. Billy was almost in a trance.
“You’re pretty big, BOY. I’m going to need some prep. You know where the lube is.” With those words, Tad dropped back into the bed and pulled his legs up exposing his hole to Billy. Tentatively, Billy lubed a finger and inserted. He probed around and added a second. He was darkening–a sure sign that his arousal was building. So Tad moaned in encouragement. “That’s it BOY. I think I’m gonna need three, maybe four. Do you think you know how to find my sweet spot?”
Billy was by then on auto-pilot. He was definitely the sex animal–a big 235 lb bull–give him a command and a dose of pheromone and he’s ready to breed. He reached deep, scraped the prostate and Tad hissed, “Yes, that’s it. Give it some attention, BOY.” Billy smiled and poked it again.
Billy was rock hard and leaking big time. “Time to fuck me, BOY. Now!” Billy lubed his cock, positioned and applied some pressure. Tad pushed into him and Billy’s head was inside. He was huge, stretching and stretching.
And then, surprisingly, Billy spoke his first words, “God you’ve got a tight pussy. I’m gonna have to do you twice. I’m gonna cum after just a few strokes. I promise the second time will be better. I’ll take care of you next time.” Tad’s decision to go missionary was right. Billy was moving into the familiar motions of fucking a girl.
One more thrust and Billy bottomed, his molten balls hitting Tad’s ass. Tad felt the curve scraping his love nut as Billy withdrew and thrust again. Several more quick strokes. “I’m cummin’ Dad. I’m cummin'” And Billy unloaded a series of gushers. Tad felt the heat, the pressure, the incredible volume–and then he too shot onto their chests. Billy fell on top and Tad’s legs moved to capture him inside. Billy had topped a guy for the first time in his life. So with legs and arms, Tad trapped Billy, feeling his hardness inside.
And as Billy had predicted, only a few minutes later, Billy began to stiffen and move again inside Tad’s chute. The first round had awakened Tad’s prostate; the second round was going to torture it with pleasure. That cock had just the right curvature. “Oh, fuck, Billy. You’re big fat dick is filling me up and killing my nut. Give it to me boy. No, you’re the MAN, Billy. You’ve got the ball. Run it for a TD. Fuck me, stud!”
After squirming a bit on top of Tad’s chest, Billy rose onto his haunches and pulled Tad into his lap so Tad was riding. In that position, he thrust over and over, punching the prostate hard with each stroke. Tad threw his head back. “Billy. It’s too much.” And Tad began to squirt between them. And as he did, Billy’s determined expression turned to a deep smile. He knew he was good. He could pleasure a woman. And he could take Tad to heaven–as Tad had done to him so many times. He pulled Tad close and marked his pec with a deep brand. Touchdown! And Billy’s cock exploded with the enthusiasm of a long run to the end zone.
“You are mine….and I am yours. And I don’t care what they call us.”
Tad breathed slowly. The momentary crisis had been averted. But, it was clear that Billy still had a long way to go. Billy’s simple declaration was a start. Tad would get him there, but then there would be team and family. Billy was worth it. And Tad was pretty sure that his ass was going to be pretty sore for the next few weeks. He had awakened the sleeping bull.
Author’s note: This started as a simple stroke piece, but as usual, I need to get into my characters’ heads. I’ll try to determine whether another chapter or two suggests itself. Tad and Billy have a long road to travel, and it’s by no means obvious that they can do so successfully given family and society pressures on star athletes. But they’ve probably got another year to begin to work things out. BD