Inflamed by my report that I'd seen uber jock and presumed straight Dewey ogling Jeff's junk in the locker room on several occasions, my star tight end demanded my ass and 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.
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I didn't keep a stopwatch on Jeff, but I'd be surprised if he lasted five minutes, which was cool - I understood that fuck was solely, or mostly, about Jeff getting his rocks off, kind of like an emergency fuck necessitated by Jeff's unexpected realization that Dewey's exotic milk chocolate cock might actually be available to him, a cock that for whatever reason he'd never considered to have been within his reach.
Still, there's nothing quite like an 18-year-old rock hard jock cock on the single-minded mission to nut, rocking his 34-year-old coach's ass at full speed. His big dick was traveling up and down my rectum with all the authority I'd ever fantasized about, and then some, lighting up the pleasure receptors in my smooth muscle lining with every thrust and retreat, his balls slapping furiously against my ass and my head board banging against the wall. I was just a (poor) stand in for Dewey during this bonus fuck, and I knew that if Jeff were ever fortunate enough to fuck the real Dewey, that kid was going to get the ass fucking of his young life.
I thought Dewey probably was within Jeff's reach, but it's easy to read too much into what appears to be a 'cock starved look.' And even if the expression on Dewey's face (multiple times) when his eyes seemed to have been locked onto Jeff's meaty dick really had been a 'cock starved look,' that sure as fuck didn't mean Jeff could walk up to Dewey out of the clear blue the next morning and successfully hit on him. And even if cock starved Dewey did bite, that didn't mean the two of them would be fucking on my living room floor within the next fifteen minutes (or ever)...or that Dewey would somehow think that turning such a fortuitous fuck session with Jeff into a three way involving his football coach would be a swell idea.
I felt a change in Jeff's pounding rhythm that made me think he might be nearing the end of my 'bonus fuck.' "Hey Jeff, would you mind coming in my mouth?" I asked. I love oral and I'd had precious little of that thus far with Jeff since his cock had mostly been doing what it was doing at that moment. I wanted his young, strong cock in my mouth, and I wanted to taste his cum. I had also had the sense that his two previous powerful orgasms had produced a prodigious amount of semen, but there wasn't really any way to gauge how much cum he'd deposited eight inches up my ass, and I was simply curious about the size of his load.
"Mind?" Jeff asked, laughing, and barely slowing while he answered me. "Fuck yeah I'd love to blow in your mouth, Coach...I'm close...I'll slap your ass just before I pull out...then you roll over damn fast...I'll climb on your chest..." I counted eight or nine deep, rapid fire strokes after Jeff stopped talking before, he slapped my ass and quickly pulled his thick plunger out of my ass, making a loud popping sound.
I rolled onto my back and Jeff was almost instantly clambering onto my chest and shoving his super engorged cock, which he was gripping tightly around its thick base, into my waiting mouth. He managed about half a stroke before he shuddered convulsively and I felt and tasted the hot jets of his cum flooding my mouth and throat, me swallowing as much of his salty, almost smoky, slightly sweet semen as fast as I could, but not keeping up with his continuing eruption, the excess spilling down my chin.
All I can say with certainty about the size of Jeff's third load is that I'd never had an orgasm like that one, nor had I ever swallowed close to that much cum before. So, yeah, that was one prodigious load. God only knows how much ejaculate Jeff had ejaculated the first time he'd cum that night, with me riding his cock hard on the locker room bench. I kept sucking Jeff's dick until it began to soften and he pulled it out of my mouth, and then rolled over onto his back, once again drenched in his exquisite jock sweat. He knew by then that I'd want my face buried in one of his sweaty armpits, and so raised the arm nearest me as an accommodation.
After I'd inhaled and tasted my fill of Jeff's wet, musky armpit, I settled back into his arms with my head resting on his heaving chest. "Hey stud, tell me how you and Mitchell hooked up," I whispered, feeling the blood flow to my cock in anticipation of hearing about how Jeff's balls had come to slap against Mitchell's skinny ass...and wondering to what extent his ginger scruff could be seen creeping out from between his milky white ass cheeks.
"One of my greatest finds," Jeff replied with a chuckle. "Keep in mind I just parachuted in here a few weeks ago, a guy with a definite taste for other guys, and I didn't know anyone except Landen...but I didn't even know he was queer...he was just a friendly face. Mission One was to discreetly scope out all of the potential merchandise, Mission Two would be to find out which cocks of the ones I was interested in sucking were actually suckable by another dude. So, I'd pretty much checked out every guy's junk and other particulars in the locker room or showers during my first week. I'm sure I missed a few, may still be missing some..."
"I bet I haven't seen more than half, no, 60% or so, of the guys' dicks..." I interjected.
"No shit, Coach," Jeff said, laughing, "'Cause you've spent about 99% of your shopping time zeroed in on one particular penis. Thankfully, I might add. Anyway, you're bound to have overlooked some real gems, probably straight, but still gems. But don't worry, Coach, between the two of us, we've identified most of the good looking queers or likely queers...you, me, Landen, Dewey, Sam, Mitchell, possibly Alex...statistically, there shouldn't be many, or any, more homos on the team, maybe a couple more dudes who'll never show their hands..."
"Sam's a homo?" I asked, adopting Jeff's lingo. I'd thought of Sam, a big, strapping, hearty O-lineman whose cock was somehow always covered or obscured when I'd made my rounds, when I'd first tried to guess who besides Landen Jeff had been fucking in the locker room, but I'd never mentioned Sam's name to Jeff.
"Affirmative," Jeff laughed. "Sam's the dude who inadvertently pointed me toward Mitchell for further investigation."
"Before you tell me how that happened," I said, "do you know if Sam has a cock? I've never been able to get a look at it, and not for lack of trying."
"He does," Jeff assured me, laughing. "Anyway, the way those two dudes, Sam and Mitchell, always looked at each other when Mitchell was, is, passing out towels to wet, naked jocks...Mitchell only ever had eyes for Sam, and Sam only ever looked at Mitchell like he wished he was naked, so it was pretty clear to me that, No. 1, they were more or less a couple, and, No. 2, Mitchell had something in his pants that Sam really liked..."
