"Everything OK in there, Mitchell?" I asked my team manager as I walked by the showers, ready for that kid to split me wide open with his giant ginger cock. If I got arrested for my overnight felonies as I left the locker room, I could still say that fucking Jeff the night before had been fucking worth it...but I prayed I wouldn't get pinched until after Mitchell had finished punishing me with his amazing Cock of Ages.
"Perfect, Coach," he replied. Then that brazen little fucker with the giant pecker winked at me. I wondered why Jeff had chosen Mitchell for our first three way after having seemingly decided on a 'practice session' with Landen, and over having to actually ask Dewey how he felt about fucking both him and their coach. Landen, the lead pipe cinch, would be delicious whenever we got to him, I knew, and I was happy as fuck Jeff had settled on Mitchell instead. That kid had brass balls...and a crack to die for.
As I walked outside where I could breathe again, relieved not to find myself surrounded by blue lit police cruisers and wailing sirens, I made a mental note not to overlook the JV squad, most of whom had probably reached puberty, as a source of unexpected talent.
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I paced around my house nervously waiting for Jeff and Mitchell to show up after practice. I wasn't concerned about fucking or getting fucked by Mitchell, the thought of either of which made my dick throb. Instead, my anxiety was more related to stage direction or choreography, the same type of thing I'd fretted over in advance of just about every pre planned three way in which I'd ever been involved - worrying about how to get the ball rolling once guests arrived who knew they were there for the express purpose of fucking the other guests. I know my anxiety must sound trivial, but it was no less real. I'm a football coach, and five minutes before kickoff, I still didn't have a game plan.
I suppose I could have just asked my guests what they wanted to do, of course, but they were fucking teenagers, which meant they'd just say, 'I don't know,' 'I don't care,' or 'whatever.' Or I could suggest that we cool off in the pool first, which would give me the opportunity to strip Mitchell's clothes off him and suck his cock before anything else happened...but I was torn...part of me really just wanted to watch those two hot young studs rutting, more specifically, to watch Jeff (repeatedly) take Mitchell's huge cock up his ass. For sure I'd have plenty to contribute myself, but my participation didn't have to be immediate.
Jeff knocked on my front door as he was letting himself in, calling "Coach?" He was beaming when he came in - but he came in alone - and he wrapped me in his arms, planting a deep, tongue probing kiss on my mouth. "Where's Mitchell?" I asked when Jeff came up for air. "Don't you just love that kid?" he asked. "I don't mean love like you love me, just like what a fun stud to hang with, right?" "I really do like him," I agreed, "so where the fuck is, he? You guys were supposed to ride together...and I want him now."
"Aw, that's cute," Jeff said, laughing, squeezing my bulge hard. "He'll be here soon, but he had an errand to run first...and, don't worry, he'll park in the next block." He kissed me again, no less exuberantly. "You're in a helluva good mood," I observed.
"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked. "You blew me and then pissed all over me, making this a killer day before it had barely gotten started, and then you fucked me, a monster fuck on my internal Richter scale, I might add, probably because you'd just hosed me down. Then I had a beast of a practice...you saw that incredible touchdown, right?" "Of course," I lied, "amazing." I hadn't seen a fucking thing that had happened between me holding Mitchell's huge cock in my hand before practice and entering the locker room afterwards to see my favorite fat dick flirting with Dewey's fat dick.
