"Was the other guy you nailed in the locker room one of the assistant coaches?" I asked guardedly. I'd fire the son of a bitch as soon as I found out which one of those slap dicks had been fucking stupid enough to take it up the ass from a student athlete.
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"Jesus Christ, Coach," Jeff replied, seemingly without irony, "that'd be SO fucking wrong on a whole lot of levels. No, definitely NOT an assistant coach...he's another student."
I was stumped. "I give up," I said at last
"Mitchell," Jeff said smugly. Mitchell the fucking team manager?? That skinny red headed kid with the creamy white skin who handed out the towels to all my naked, dripping wet jocks? Mitchell was a helluva likable guy, earnest, hardworking, funny... True, I'd never seen him naked, but I found it hard to believe that skinny little kid had the biggest dick in the locker room...
"Mitchell the fucking manager?" I asked in disbelief.
"Huge fucking dick," Jeff confirmed. "Don't know if he's your type or not, but I really like him. Unlike Landen, I also don't really know if he's into you, but since you're hot as fuck and all, why wouldn't he be? I should say this, too...he was really way more interested in fucking me, at least at first, than in bending over for me...and I kinda promised him he'd get his turn on me if he'd just bend the fuck over first...so I kinda owe Mitchell..."
"How old is Mitchell?" I asked tentatively, imagining the skinny ginger's enormous boner swelling and rising from a nest of bright, coppery, red orange pubic hair, matching the shade of unruly hair framing his youthful face. Mitchell didn't look to be a day older than 15.
"Huge fucking dick, Coach," Jeff answered. "Besides didn't you just say you didn't give a fuck how old Dewey is? What kind of double standard is that, Coach? You'll fuck a 17-year-old black kid, but not a 17-year-old lily white ginger kid with a huge fucking dick?"
"Fuck no," I replied a little testily, but relieved to hear that Mitchell was 17. "I'm not going to fuck any 17-year-olds, but if I were going to fuck one 17-year-old, I'm sure I'd be fine with fucking two 17-year-olds."
"Well, if 17-year-olds are seriously off the table, we're back to banging just Landen again, and possibly Alex," Jeff said pseudo wearily. "Dewey's creamy milk chocolate skin, his fat, uncut cock...he seems so fucking exotic to me...and Mitchell...now that I know how fucking good a big hard cock up the ass feels, I really can't see me welching on my deal to bend over for the biggest swinging dick in the locker room..."
Listening to Jeff go on about Mitchell and Dewey, I envisioned myself in a three way with them, Mitchell sticking it to me with his surprisingly large boner while I wore out Dewey's sweet chocolate ass. Or, given Dewey's sheer athleticism, maybe he ought to be pounding the fuck out of me while I deep throated Mitchell's huge cock...
"Are you going to tell me how it went down between you and Mitchell?" I asked hopefully. It was clear to me that, for hygienic reasons, it would be prudent for me to immediately institute a policy requiring the team manager to shower after each practice. Obviously, since the manger's duties included handing out and collecting towels, he couldn't very well shower with the team (and I saw no need to embarrass all my jocks by having a skinny, horse hung manager show them up in the showers).
Regrettably, Mitchell would have to shower after the team left...and because of school rules prohibiting unsupervised students, I'd have to stay late to ensure his safety and lock up afterwards. I couldn't help but wonder how much meat that skinny little 17-year-old was really packing. Well, I'd see for myself the next day as soon I as implemented my new hygiene policy. Simply looking, no touching.
"Sure," Jeff replied, "right after I fuck you again...which I'm gonna do as soon as you order me to in your mean coach's voice." I reached down and grabbed his cock, which I'd been neglecting in the midst of his many revelations and all his (hot) scheming, and, not surprisingly, found him hard as ever. I eased off Jeff's chest, rolled over and pushed myself onto my hands and knees.
"Fuck me, bitch," I snapped playfully at Jeff. Remembering our real game, I added, "I fucking love you, stud. I'm all yours." He was entering me again within seconds, delaying only to squirt some lube onto his rigid dick and smear it around its head.
"I fucking love you, too, Coach," Jeff said as he pushed his cock balls deep into me, "and the next time I fuck you, I'm going to fuck you like you need to be fucked...this time I'm going to fuck you like you're Dewey...and it's not gonna take very long...consider this just kind of a bonus fuck..."
"Bonus fuck me, then, bitch," I snapped, "fast and hard."
That's how I found out how urgently Jeff wanted to fuck exotic, athletic Dewey once I'd tipped him off about Dewey's possible interest in his fat cock. It's not as if Jeff had a cock so abnormally large that it would cause other guys to stop in their tracks and gawk in wonder. Sure, it was big, but Dewey had a pretty big dick, too, only marginally shorter and not quite as fat...but who knew whether Dewey with a hard on might not actually be bigger? Who knew? Maybe Jeff would find that out after morning practice.
Not that I'm a size queen or anything, but when you're busy burning down your coaching career and reputation principally for the fleeting pleasure of getting fucked in the ass by one (or more) rock hard 18-year-old (more...or less) cock(s), you'll find that you want to get fucked with authority, too. You'll want it to count as much as I did. You'll find your own Jeff, your Dewey, your Landen, too, maybe even your tantalizing Mitchell or Alex.
What set Jeff apart in addition to his A+ perfect locker room cock was how well that cock hung together with all his other well-proportioned features, that plus Jeff was into ME. And since Jeff wasn't available for Jeff to fuck, it seemed that at least among those of his teammates he hadn't already fucked - which was all of them except Landen - Dewey was the one who most fired his imagination (and libido).
Which is to say that my star tight end fucked the living shit out of me for the third time, not at all unlike the way he'd fucked me the second time, only harder and not for nearly as long. There were no pauses to delay orgasm, and the only variation in tempo was: harder, faster, deeper.
