Jock Auction (5 page)

“Don’t worry, Kyle”—he laughed—”the puny fag ain’t gonna try to fuck you.”

I probably blushed; his comment was so close to Jeff’s dumb warning after the

auction. I already knew enough to know that Craig taking my ass without my complete agreement had the same sort of chance as a snowball in hell. Even so, just having my butt up on display was a weird sensation. I could feel air on my hole, which was

exposed as my muscled cheeks spread with my legs. Nobody ever looked at me there.

But Craig was, one hand steadying my erection upright and occasionally swiping

his thumb across the precum-slicked tip while the fingers of the other swept lightly around my flanks and up. I felt his breath on me now, cool and leaving my hole

twitching despite my attempts to stay still.

He looked up, and those intense eyes caught mine. “Relax, okay? I promise—

promise—you’ll like it.”

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I didn’t say anything, and that was presumably as good as agreement, as the next

thing I knew he’d dipped his head and, as I craned mine up to try to see what was

happening, I felt the hot wetness of his tongue dredging along the crack of my ass.

If I’d frozen at its first touch, I almost jolted out of my skin and physically off the bed when Craig’s tongue lapped against my hole, the burst of sensation like a

firecracker, or a bolt of lightning between my cheeks. He tilted his chin up so that his tongue stopped where it just nuzzled the underside of my balls, and then he repeated the whole process, starting teasingly at my tailbone and then sweeping hungrily up, pausing to circle around my ass and send uncontrollable tremors up my spine, before ending at my nuts.

He stopped—the fucker, he stopped, and I wanted to grab his head with both

hands and plant his mouth directly on my hole and never, ever let him move again. He looked up, past where my dick was trying to drown his hand with a steady, sticky flow of clear juice, and straight at me. And he winked. A sly, cocky wink as if to say
There. I
told you so.

And I would’ve called him all manner of names if I wasn’t so busy writhing

because of his tongue being back against my ass and apparently doing its level best to get inside me. I reached down to grab my cock, but he knocked my hand away and—

muffled by my cheeks—told me “that’s mine” in a tone that obviously meant he’d

accept no argument. So I lay back, braced my arms above my head, and concentrated on feeling the most incredible, sexually-intense sensation my body had ever experienced.

I didn’t even flinch—well, not for any reason other than pleasure anyway—when

he used his fingers to pull at me, letting him dig his tongue farther in. His other hand was keeping up a languid rhythm on my shaft, and my balls were buzzing with frantic eagerness; my pubes were matted and tangled with sweat and the sticky evidence of

my excitement. Craig changed hands at least once, and I knew it was those same juices that were easing the entry of his finger into me, twisting a digit into the hot, twitching confines of my ass.

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I admit it, part of my brain was wondering what it might be like to get fucked,

whether another guy’s dick would feel the same as that finger did and the tongue just before it. But I still wasn’t ready for that and for the inevitable questions it would spark in me. I couldn’t ask myself why, as someone who knew he was straight, I might also enjoy getting nailed in the ass.

A finger in there, though, or maybe two, corkscrewing around and making my

pleasure centers light up in ways I’d never felt before? Oh sure, that I could handle!

He had two in me now, and his tongue was bathing my nuts and getting the light

fuzz of hair across them fully slicked down. I’d always been pretty regular on

trimming—a habit I’d picked up and stuck with from my swim-team days—and the

feel of Craig lapping at the near-naked skin was incredible.

He didn’t stop there, though, and soon his tongue was making its way up the side

of my cock, until he had the wet head lodged back between his lips. I didn’t know who he’d been practicing on, but he gave an awesome blowjob. My hips weren’t sure

whether to hump up, drive more dick into his mouth to see if I could test his gag reflex, or to buck down and hopefully push his probing fingers in farther.

I settled on a mix of the two, alternately fucking his face and twisting my ass on his hand. I could hear a wet slapping too. “Dude, are you jerking off?” Craig looked up at me, the knob of my cock bulging obscenely from his cheek, and made a sort of “mm-hmm” mumble through glistening lips. I laughed. “Get the fuck up here, idiot. I want to watch.”

And I did, I really did want to watch. I don’t know why. I guess I just felt

particularly close to him at that moment, and all this wasn’t just about my getting off.

He climbed up onto the bed next to me, letting his fingers slip out of my hole for a moment but keeping the tips circling around the eager entrance. On all fours now, he bent back down and impaled his mouth on me, taking it deep until his face was ground into my pelvis.

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I hissed at the feel of his throat gulping around my hardness, and then again,

louder as he jammed two fingers at once into me. Craig reached under himself and

gripped his dick with a hand dripping with my precum, and I watched as he jerked

himself while servicing me.

He was skinny, sure. I could see the contours of his ribs when he held his breath, and the inward curve of his stomach meant his junk was clearly on view beneath him.

Black hair tumbled down over his eyes as he blew me, but other than that and some

dark hair under his arms and around his crotch he was smooth all over as far as I could see. I reached out, flicked at his nipple, and he recoiled as if stung—though he was careful not to let me slip out of his mouth—so I did it again, enjoying the way the depths of his throat shuddered on my inches.

Craig’s fist got faster, and I knew he was getting close. I watched as he pounded

his dick through his fingers, and then, just as I thought he was about to burst, I put my hand on the back of his neck, holding him down on my cock. He squirmed and

twitched as cum blasted out underneath him and sprayed the bed, his chest, and my

hip. The hot slap of it was enough to drive me over the edge too—that, and the extra-rough dig he gave inside my ass—and I unloaded in his mouth, forcing him to swallow what I gave him.

He kept jerking as he gulped, a long unbroken strand of jizz trailing down from

the tip of his long prick to the sheets. Eventually I lifted the pressure, used the same hand to bunch in the hair at the nape of his neck, and pulled his face up until my tender cock slipped from his lips. Craig had a glazed, dizzy expression, his mouth lolling open and lips cherry red. As I yanked him back, his fingers lost their grip on my ass, and he reached down across me to steady himself.

“Is your throat okay, dude?” I asked him, smirking. He glanced up at me,

frowning.

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“Fuck you, Kyle.” But he was having to force himself not to grin, and I knew—not

least from the wetness sliding down my flank—that he’d loved it. I let his head rest on my abs.

“You’ll need to pay more for that,” I told him, and he pulled a stupid face like he was calculating just how much he could afford. That set us both off laughing, and he only paused to call me a bastard when I wiped my slippery dick in his hair.

“So what are you going to tell your dumb jock friends?” he asked me. I traced a

finger down the sharp curve of his shoulder blade.

“You had a real tough attic that needed cleaning,” I told him. It would be an easy lie, believable and flexible too. “Who knows, maybe it’ll take another weekend of work before it’s done.”

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Chapter Two

In a lot of ways a secret is like an unexpected erection when you’re in class. It’s all you can think about. You’re obsessed with it, and you can’t help but think that surely everybody else can see it too. As I walked into the locker room before practice, what I’d done with Craig on Saturday was the mental equivalent of a triple-strength boner, and I couldn’t stop looking around to see if everyone else had spotted the guilt on my face.

Yes, guilt. I’d gone from Craig’s head resting gently on my stomach to dressed

and frantically starting up the car outside in about three minutes flat, or at least that’s what it felt like. Craig had obviously known that I was freaking out some. After he’d asked me what I planned to tell the guys about my “slave duties,” he’d given me this calculating look, and it suddenly registered just how out of character I’d been behaving.

I mean, seriously, letting some dude suck my cock and finger my ass. And kissing

him—me kissing him, not just accidentally having my lips in the wrong place at the wrong time—well, I was having trouble processing it still. At the time, it had basically blown my tiny mind, and I couldn’t get out of there quickly enough. I had driven home in a daze and fled to my room as soon as I got back, flinging little more than a

breathless “hello” to my parents in the kitchen.

So now I had this feeling that I was giving off some weird, queer vibe, that

everybody I hung out with would take one look at me and realize I’d been getting dirty with another guy. The fact that nobody had treated me any different all day only made me more paranoid. I was half-expecting the rest of the guys on the team to turn on me and call me on it as soon as I walked in the door.

They didn’t, though. Instead, I was stepping into the usual banter: a sweaty room

full of swaggering just-post-adolescent men in various states of undress, smacking each 32
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other with towels, pushing each other around, and generally acting like idiots. I opted out and made a beeline for my locker. Twisted the code and then pulled out my

uniform while making as little eye contact as possible.

“So…did you suck tongues with the faggot?” Jeff’s voice was loud, ringing

through the locker room, though not as loud as the wet, slobbery kissing noises he made just in case I didn’t know what that might sound like. I steeled myself and turned around. “Oh, yeah, sure, Jeff,” I brazened it out. “He’s ninety pounds soaking wet, and he totally had his way with me. I was powerless to resist.”

Jeff scowled at me. I tried to avoid looking down at his chest, shirtless and broad.

Would I have glanced down before Saturday’s madness? Would I have looked without

any semblance of guilt? Had Craig somehow made me look at guys in a different way?

He reached up and scratched absentmindedly just below his nipple. I fought the

urge to stare—to watch to see whether the nub of flesh would stiffen. The scowl was still on his face.

“Yeah, well, I don’t trust that fag. He’s after your dick, dude.”

I made an obvious show of rolling my eyes and grabbed my crotch through my

jeans.

“Hey, everybody’s after my dick. He can just get in line.”

There were a few chuckles at that. What is it about teenage guys that makes

everything about your cock and where you’re putting it? Then again, I’d seemed pretty caught up in that myself at Craig’s house.

“If someone’s looking for a real dick, they know who they should be talking to,”

Jeff scoffed, in the process of dropping his shorts and stepping into a jockstrap. He dug his hand in the pouch and made a great show of adjusting himself. It was true, though, he had a pretty big cock—and very few reservations about swinging it around in the showers, usually while telling anyone who’d listen about his cheerleader girlfriend’s enthusiastic reaction to it.

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I rolled my eyes again and turned to my locker. What I didn’t need was to think

about what Craig had done to me; that would very likely trigger a reaction that would be reasonably tough to explain. I tugged off my T-shirt, trying to consciously slow my breathing while I did it. Jeans came off next, and boxers with them. Standing around naked wasn’t anything new—like I’d said to Craig, it was just what happened in the locker room—but I had to resist the urge to rush to put on my football uniform, which might’ve looked weird to the guys.

So I slowly pulled on a jock, and then pants, and then everything else. I won’t lie, my cock was plumper than it would normally be, but I managed to avoid a full-on

bone.

Say what you like about the rigors of football, but after two hours of hard training, a swollen dick was the last of my concerns. Even Jeff was unusually subdued coming back in; it was as if Coach had decided to work us to the max just to make it clear that even though we’d collectively raised a few thousand for charity, he still expected us to earn our place on the starting lineup for the next game.

It was only when I was in the shower, the hot water hammering into my shoulder

blades, that I thought about that shower with Craig. Once I’d got it into my head, though, I couldn’t stop. I’d pushed him back against the tiles, hard, and we’d humped and ground against each other; then I’d taken him back to his room and basically

fucked his throat. And he’d swallowed my cum. Not to mention hosing me down with

his own.

I could feel my dick rising, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I turned to the wall, glad my usual place near to the corner—away from Jeff, who took huge

pleasure in dumping a half bottle of shampoo over you if you were dumb enough to

stand nearby—meant there would be less chance of being seen. I glanced over to Louis, who was under the shower next to me, trying to spot whether he’d picked up on what was happening.

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You do stupid stuff when you’re self-conscious. I’d meant to just side-eye Louis,

make sure he hadn’t spotted what had basically amounted to a full boner by now. I was resisting the urge to wrap my fingers around it and jerk it off, but I guess I’d been too obsessive in my checking.