I had seen Jeff and Dewey walking toward the field house together, apart from the others, after practice, engaged in an animated conversation. I assumed that Jeff had been explaining to Dewey that he (Jeff) was going to fuck him (Dewey) in the locker room as soon as everyone else had cleared out. It wasn't at all difficult to imagine Dewey responding, 'The fuck you are, homey. You said "Let's fuck," and we're gonna, but you're the one about to get fucked,' or words to that effect.
Whatever the other logistics involved, I'd given Jeff a key so that they could re-enter the locker room after it had been emptied and locked up if they weren't able to simply hang back and 'accidentally' get locked in. It occurred to me that I had no idea how Jeff had finagled fucking Landen and Mitchell in the locker room after hours without my help. Mitchell had a key, I remembered, but that didn't explain Landen. That was information I'd need to get out of my tight end after he and Dewey had worked out who exactly was going to be fucking whom. For some reason it was easier for me to envision the big dicked black player hammering the big dicked white player's ass to the wall than vice versa, but both images made my cock stir more than a little.
While I was picking up steaks and potatoes at my neighborhood market, one of those seemingly always horny jocks was, thrusting his thick rock hard 18-year-old cock into the other's not so tight rectum, one of them spread eagled against the shower wall just off the locker room. As I found out later, Mitchell had been the one to lock up, so Dewey and Jeff hadn't even had to hide out to get locked in, which seemed a little sketchy to Dewey at first, but Jeff had assured him that Mitchell was cool, without telling him, not yet anyway, 'Yeah, I'm fucking that dude, and he's got basket for days...in fact, he boned the fuck out of me just before practice with the biggest fucking cock I've ever seen...and I'm going to return the favor later tonight...' But Jeff hadn't dropped that little nugget of solid gold info until they had flipped and the jock who had first hammered the other one against wall was getting hammered himself with the other's thick rock hard 18-year-old cock.
After Mitchell had locked them in, they had still had the question of who was going to fuck whom to resolve, and Jeff had finally suggested they just flip a fucking coin. "Tails," Dewey had called, as Jeff had known he would, while Jeff's two headed quarter was still spinning in the air. "What else would a guy flipping for butt fucking rights call but tails?" Jeff had later asked by way of explanation. Mitchell had not been amused at all to learn about Jeff's two headed quarter. If Dewey had been an anomaly and surprised Jeff by calling heads, well, Jeff would've been just fine with that outcome, too. But since Dewey made the expected call, the first jock on jock fucking had been white on black, before there had been any inkling, let alone assurance, that black on white against the wall would follow immediately.
The deal hadn't been that they'd flip, with the coin toss winner going first. The deal had simply been that the winner got to bone the loser then and there in the locker room, with the understanding that the winner would graciously bend over for the loser at some later unspecified time and place, but when Jeff had reached around to give Dewey a hand job as he'd repeatedly driven his cock as hard and fast and far up Dewey's ass as he could, and as Dewey had begun to respond to Jeff's hand in a way that let Jeff know that Dewey was getting close to wasting his load in Jeff's hand and all over the tile wall, Jeff had thought better of the situation, letting go of that hard, thick, black cock, and telling Dewey, "Dude, do me, too, and fast, just as soon as I'm done," which was only a minute or so later.
"Hey, bro, did you see the manager's huge fucking dick earlier," Dewey asked, as Jeff continued pummeling his ass, "when he showered with us? I told you that the kid was fucking hung."
"Yes, I did," Jeff replied, punctuating each clause with a deep, hard thrust, "yes you did...and yes he is."
"And that fucker's ripped, too," Dewey added. "I nearly popped a boner when I saw him...umphh...umphh..."
It was while Dewey was doing Jeff, fast and hard, and with absolute authority, that Jeff coughed up 'the real deal' about that chill manager with the giant cock and six pack. Jeff had known the tale of his recent exploits would further inflame Dewey, who was already fucking him like a man on fire, and he had been spot on in his assessment of that situation.
Jeff had told Dewey after morning practice that he was fucking their stud Coach, and when he told him following afternoon practice (while Dewey had been banging him) that not only was he fucking that hot little number Mitchell, but that he, Mitchell and Coach were all fucking each other, 'like all the time,' at Coach's house, where he was headed after they finished up in the locker room, that was exactly too much for Dewey, who had erupted explosively inside him. Jeff had to get him invited to Coach's house before the weekend ended, Dewey was insisting as he was ejaculating into the No. 1 tight end.
"No worries, bro," Jeff assured him, "I've got a plan."
"You ever fuck a brother before?" Dewey asked Jeff as he locked up. "Cuz you sure fuck like a brother."
"Unh Unh," Jeff replied. "How does a brother fuck?"
"Like you, bro, like me," Dewey said, "like a brother, you know, man."
"You ever fuck a white guy before?" Jeff asked him.
"Some, not too many," Dewey replied, "but none of them had a dick like a brother's, not like yours, unh unh."
