Had I made a conscious decision not to use a condom before I'd plunged bareback into Mitchell's tight pink hole? Or had I intended to use one, but recklessly plowed ahead without thinking? Did I even have permission to bareback this near virgin kid who'd never been fucked in the ass bare before? Let alone permission to blast the very first load of semen into his rectum?
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Mitchell obviously didn't share my belated (post coital) concern - which had been primarily one of manners and courtesy, not safety, since I test religiously - because as soon as I'd withdrawn, he turned around and swallowed my cum dripping cock, sucking me clean. He certainly didn't seem surprised by the fact that he didn't need to remove my used rubber first. So maybe he'd green lighted me after all?
"Hey Coach," he said as he licked his lips, "I've been thinking you ought to order me to shower with the team after practices."
"You fucking stud," Jeff said, laughing, looking at us upside down from his position on the floor. "Everybody in that locker room is going to feel so inadequate when you drop your shorts...and I'm gonna be thinking, 'Just fucking wait until he shoves that monster thing up your ass...'"
"You want to get off, bro?" Mitchell asked hopefully, eyeing Jeff's resurgent wood. "I probably should've reached around but I got distracted by Coach nearly converting me into a full-time bottom. Fuck, I've never been fucked like that by a grown up."
"Unh unh, but thanks for asking," Jeff replied, "I'm going to put this on ice and then put it to good use in Dewey's man hole right after practice."
"Does Dewey know that yet?" Mitchell asked, laughing, obviously still skeptical that Dewey was a homo.
"Fuck yeah he does," Jeff said proudly. "I sent him a text while you were taking a dump, smart guy. I said 'Let's fuck after practice,' and he replied with a thumb's up. Nothing ambiguous about that hot fucking homo."
"Nooo," I commented, winking at Mitchell, "nothing ambiguous at all."
NOTICE
EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY, ALL STUDENTS ATTACHED TO THE TEAM IN ANY CAPACITY MUST SHOWER AFTER ANY PRACTICE DURING WHICH SUCH STUDENTS ARE ON THE PRACTICE FIELD, per HEALTH DEPT. REGULATIONS. NO EXCEPTIONS.
Before Thursday's second practice the sign was posted on the field house door, on the team bulletin board and my office door, outside the showers, in the restroom and elsewhere throughout the locker room. It was impossible for any player (or other students 'attached to the team in any capacity') to miss the notice, though probably all of them except Jeff, with the possible further exceptions of Landen and Dewey (the latter of which had recently expressed some curiosity about the manager's equipment), missed the import of the new rule, which could only apply to precisely one student), if they thought about it at all.
Just in case anyone had missed the notice, though, I commented on the new rule, in the offhand, no big deal manner such a silly bureaucratic foray into the manly world of football deserved, at the end of afternoon announcements just before the team hit the practice field. Mitchell duly registered his objection to such 'a dumb rule,' an opinion seconded by the new tight end. "Fresh Meat!" an unidentified player shouted, followed by laughter all around. The quipster's voice sounded a lot like Landen's to me.
After an especially hot (and not in a good way) practice that afternoon, during which the manager was running all over the field ensuring that the players were all sufficiently hydrated, such that he was almost as sweat drenched as the players, I couldn't resist making a brief visit to the locker room to unobtrusively catch the 'forced' public unveiling of the manager's impressive equipment.
Unfortunately, Mitchell's locker was at the far end of the locker room from the showers, requiring him to walk the length of the testosterone charged room naked with what I had concluded, while he and I had been pissing on his new best friend, was a thick eight+ inch flaccid cock swinging between his legs, below a shock of red orange pubic hair and a surprisingly chiseled physique that somehow made him look less 'skinny' than he did when he was wearing his ubiquitous sweatshirt.
As for Mitchell's soft cock not getting 'much' bigger when aroused, just getting 'a lot harder and sticking out,' as Jeff had opined before he'd been impaled by Mitchell's harder, pointier version, that was correct ONLY if he'd meant proportionally, in the sense that ten (at least) hard inches aren't all that much bigger than eight soft inches, whereas six or seven hard inches are a helluva lot bigger than two or three soft inches. Of course, most of the guys who stole a look at that fat piece of fresh meat over the next few days would never see it 'a lot harder and sticking out,' but a few lucky ones would, and most of those guys would come to understand what Jeff had been thinking (without knowing he'd been thinking), 'Just fucking wait until he shoves that monster thing up your ass.'
Jeff squeezed by me on his way to the shower, managing to lightly brush his own fat fleshy cock against my ass. "Damn, Coach, if I were queer I'd fuck that Mitchell guy," he whispered. I watched Jeff's gorgeous ass, sweaty black hair creeping out from his crack, recede from me as he followed Mitchell into the showers. From somewhere behind me I heard someone, not Landen (who was no doubt already excessively lathering his junk right next to Mitchell), say, "Fuck, did you see THAT? That kid's got a dick on him."
Apart from that single stray comment (and Jeff's), there was no other evidence that anyone on the team had even noticed that the skinny, red headed manager was showering with the team, but I had little doubt that by the time he'd showered, walked (slowly) back to his locker and finished toweling off (also a slow process), at least a quarter of the team would have checked him out and were thus aware that that 'little kid' had the biggest dick in the locker room...and that most of the others would have fully apprised themselves of the full extent of Mitchell's 'fresh meat' by the end of Friday's two practices (and showers).
'Good for Mitchell,' I thought. On my way out of the locker room I stopped to check on a certain interior lineman's damaged shoulder pads. Just as I was turning to ask Sam a question about the pads, one of his teammates snatched his towel away and I got my first look at his elusive cock, automatically registering 'juicy, plump, uncut, fatter than expected, downy blond pubes, very suckable but can live without, not worth complicating anything with Mitchell...'
