"Precum, bro!" Jeff shouted to his new best friend after the intense double rimming prelude to me fucking Mitchell 'like he needed to be fucked.' "See? Because you didn't beat off today." He wiped a finger through the clear, sticky ooze seeping out of Mitchell's huge boner and transferred it to Mitchell's grinning mouth.
"You're wrong, I did beat off today," Mitchell corrected Jeff, "but only once."
"What the fuck?" Jeff asked, laughing. "When? Why?"
"Watching you fuck Dewey in the locker room," Mitchell replied, also laughing. "That was too fucking hot not to crank one out...but I wish I'd known you were going to flip." I was laughing my ass off with him, and Jeff joined in with us.
"You're a fucking trip, bro," Jeff observed.
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I helped myself to a taste of Mitchell's sweet precum, and then generously lubed his tight pink hole and my ready cock. I already knew how Mitchell was going to react to only two or three inches of stationary coach cock parked in the entrance of his rectum, the only questions I had were how intense that reaction would be and how quickly it would begin. There had been plenty of clues when I'd (briefly) rimmed and then fucked Mitchell during our second three-way session between practices earlier that day that this horse hung kid had 'the soul of a bottom,' as my college friend Jack would've said.
Rimming him just now would've removed any doubt I might've had; except I didn't have any doubt. Mitchell craved a cock filling him up more than he was beginning to suspect (or already knew) himself, maybe even as much as I did. I've never done a scientific study, but I'm amazed by how many of the bigger dicked guys I've fucked turned out to be even happier on the receiving end, which is not at all to suggest they weren't good tops (most were at least decent) or weren't quite happy when they were topping.
I knelt between Mitchell's raised and spread legs, and lowered myself over him, finding his mouth first for a long and passionate kiss before raising up on my knees again to punch my cock through that tight pink hole, with Mitchell straining to spread his cheeks as far apart as he could with his hands. The muscles of his upper arms were flexed, of course, and I paused momentarily to appreciate the smooth, bulging beauty of his biceps...just about perfect for my taste, not overdone on his small frame.
"I love your strong fucking arms," I whispered in his ear as I pushed the flared head my cock hard through his tight opening, then kept pushing, withdrew slightly and pushed in until I was about two inches deep. My dick felt engaged, but just barely, so I retreated an inch and thrust in two more, eliciting a heartfelt "Oh fuck yes" from Mitchell. And then I stopped, my cock throbbing three inches deep and my face hovering just above his, our eyes locked onto one another's.
"C'mon, Co—" When Mitchell started to urge me on, maybe 10 seconds after I put my dick in park, I covered his mouth with mine and stuck my tongue down his throat - which distracted him from the aching lull in fucking I knew he was experiencing for maybe 5 more seconds, after which he was desperately trying to squirm down onto my pulsing cock, every throb picked up in the super sensitive smooth muscle of his rectum and relayed deeper and deeper into his fuck tunnel, beyond the point at which any cock, not even Mitchell's, could've gone, and all of that emptiness demanding to be filled up with dick. He was a strong little fucker and claimed more of my cock with his backward thrusting ass than Jeff had managed.
"Coach?" Jeff whispered urgently. "Give it to him now, Coach, I don't think he can take it anymore..." Not quite a minute had elapsed, and when I shoved in the remaining 4.5 inches (+/-) of my cock, driving all the way to the hilt, both Mitchell and Jeff shouted for joy, I'm not shitting you. After that, I can't really say that I fucked Mitchell 'like he needed to be fucked' or not, but I'm confident I fucked him like he deserved to be fucked, which is to say, long and hard and slow and gentle and sideways and in and out and playfully and whatever it took to prolong that fuck, and as powerfully, knowledgeably (of him), emphatically, tenderly, interestingly, and passionately as I could, like he was fucking and being fucked by someone who loved him utterly, and I would have loved him utterly but for Jeff, a fact Mitchell never begrudged me.
I never told Mitchell this, but that rollicking fuck was as special as any I've ever had, and I doubt I've ever fucked anyone as long and still didn't want it to end, before or since, as that night with Mitchell. A large part of my satisfaction with that night derives from knowing that after that night, at least whenever I was present, Mitchell never (or rarely) fucked anyone, not entirely, the way he had before that night, which had been all power, big cock and driving straight to orgasm.
Jeff slid into Mitchell behind me, as Mitchell had asked, as soon as I had finally let myself finish, collapsing spent, sweaty and starving on top of him after a deep eruption from me, and a lot later than either of them had imagined; I grilled steaks and we ate; Jeff fucked me again; Mitchell fucked me again, differently than he had before; I fucked Jeff decently but could not get off again; the three of us fell asleep, entwined, well after midnight in the certain (or confirmed) knowledge that I'd be fucking Landen in my office early during the coming day's morning practice, with Mitchell directing traffic, Finn was interested and would be attending the latter portion of afternoon practice, Alex was probable for Jeff on Saturday morning, TBA, and Dewey wanted my cell number; sometime after the three of us fell asleep together in my bed, I awakened to the sound and bed rocking of Jeff and Mitchell fucking, who was on top of whom I never knew or cared...
...because it didn't matter and knowing with certainty would have erased half of what I'd imagined about that coupling as I'd lain there throughout the remainder of it, enjoying the fact of it immensely; I woke Mitchell up at dawn with his cock already hard in my mouth, where he blew a load that I swallowed with relish; and somewhere in the midst of all of that, the sequencing of which is lost to me (but well before his wake up blow job), Mitchell, who never ceased to surprise, had masturbated (only once) simply because he wanted to and because he could, and I'm confident he really did jack off and that I didn't just dream it because I can still feel the splashing of his hot cum across my chest and belly, and can still taste the salty sweet tang from raking my finger through his residue and sticking it in my mouth;
...after all of that and after Mitchell had left early for practice, I showered with Jeff, without any further spillage of semen, put on my tight green coaching shorts and went to my office with a hard on to wait for practice to begin so that when Mitchell told me it was time, I could (briefly) suck and (quickly) fuck Landen.
