The Transfer Jock, Part 44

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Max raised his towel over his head and dried his long, dark wavy hair, giving me plenty of time to stare at his huge uncut student athlete beer can cock and take note of his exquisitely bushy armpits, post •coital candy for me. Whatever else this kid was or wasn't, he was extremely comfortable in his own skin. If only I could think of some pretext to get him to bend over and spread his ass cheeks apart for me, but the only excuse for asking him to do that was...

"So, what's up, Coach?" Max asked, smiling coyly as he reached down and stretched his foreskin. 

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I swear Max was looking straight at my crotch when he asked me, 'What's UP, Coach?' as he slowly toweled off his fat balls, underneath his fat dick, lifting up his unobscured cock and making it flop around everywhere. He was oozing the kind of masculine sensuality that usually made my cock stir, and that encounter was no exception. Then with his piercing blue eyes looking directly into mine, Max casually reached down - for the second time - and stretched his foreskin down over the slightly exposed head of his dick and pulling it back off its blunt head. Naturally, that distracted me, causing me to take my eyes off his to follow his hand, thereby establishing to Max without any doubt that his coach, obviously a pervert, was ogling his beautiful, and quite mature, equipment.

I put Max instantly in the Dewey/Jeff size category, though with maybe a centimeter or two less dick, and very close to Jeff in the wantonness category. But this kid was straight, I'd been assured. This kid teasing me with his foreskin was NOT straight. Mitchell had left me alone in the locker room with a ravenous gay wolf...a young ravenous gay wolf in sheep's, er, in NO clothing. I knew then that I should turn and flee from him, locking myself in my office until the danger passed. But I didn't.

"I just...um...uh...wanted to tell you...ah...how impressed...I am with you...um...your..." I stammered, completely discomfited by Max's wanton virility (focusing so intently on not saying 'COCK' that I nearly did) "um, how impressed I was with your...um, CO—, by what you said in our leadership meeting. Also, with your leadership on the field. You have a great work ethic, Max, and you've got a bright future here. You've got the right tool...um, tools, all the right tools...to go all the way...to be very successful." Max made no move to cover himself with his towel or to get dressed. In fact, the only move Max made was to occasionally touch his fat dick or big nut sack, as if I could have forgotten that fat beer can and the low hangers hanging between his legs for one instant.

The locker room was clearing out rapidly, as it always did on a late Friday afternoon. I suddenly felt like I was in danger of getting trapped by a hot as fuck 15-year-old or whatever he was, 16, didn't Mitchell say? Fuck, Max looked every bit of 18, I remembered. I was already imagining his roc-hard 18-year-old jock cock pounding my hole, sliding furiously in and out of my aching rectum, and then burying my face in his sweaty, bushy armpits after he'd pumped a quart of his hot wolf semen into my deep, empty spaces. I might as well have spoken those imaginings aloud, given the dead giveaway of my suddenly extra prominent bulge, all too visible in those fucking stretchy •tight green shorts that Mitchell had made me wear.

"Thanks, Coach," Max replied, looking straight at my boner. "I really appreciate that, and the fact that you came over to my locker to talk to me. I've been watching you for a while...and I think I know what this locker visit means." His voice was soft and almost flat, but sensual, hypnotizing when combined with the tick tock of the constant readjustment of his fat pendulum. "Wh..what do you think this means?" I asked, awaiting my exposure as a child fucker...No, no, he's 18, I reminded myself.

"That there's something about me that you find attractive," Max said confidently, "at least I hope there is. Look, Coach, some conversations are hard to get started...so let me try to start by asking you this: Was every single guy in that leadership meeting today queer? Because both of the guys that I know for a fact, from personal experience, are homos, including myself, were there, plus everyone else in the locker room that I've suspected, in differing degrees, could be or probably are queer. The big blond guy that Mitchell introduced, who, by the way, was hot as fuck, I don't know anything about, but I could make a guess about him, too, based on my pretty solid theory on Mitchell's orientation and role. Anyway, if there are other, um, meetings of that, um 'leadership group,' like the afterhours or off campus kind of meetings, I want to be included, and I've got a fuck load to contribute." Max flopped his even fatter cock a couple of times for emphasis, to ensure that I understood exactly what he had a fuck load of to contribute.

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