"Aw, guys, don't look so forlorn," Finn had said, draping an arm around Jeff and Mitchell's shoulders as they walked slowly up the hill, "we're all friends here. Tell you what, you tell me honestly what the unexpected pleasure of Mitchell's call was really all about, and I'll share some honest, juicy shit about myself. I've got a little problem, one I can solve, but I have a feeling you, homos could come up with a better, less painful, solution. Say, you guys really are into group shit, right? Because I was thinking that might be a fuck load of fun tonight."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"So, some honesty now, about Coach, I think?" Finn asked. The two transfer jocks and the team manager were sitting on a bench outside the darkened field house as dusk was falling. They were the last ones on the school grounds.
"Jeff and I are fucking Coach," Mitchell said, getting straight to the point, "and he's had a couple of encounters with other guys in the group you met, with a couple more, uh, auditions scheduled for tomorrow. Two guys, that straight kid Max and the big guy Sam, aren't involved at all, though Sam is queer. We're trying to arrange a train of six jocks to gang bang Coach on Sunday night, and Coach is fully on board. Sam's out, Max doesn't count because he's straight and too young—'
"Wait just a fucking minute," Jeff interrupted, suddenly remembering an important subject he'd meant to broach with his new best friend. "Max is 16. Aren't you and him the same age? Dewey told me you're just 16, and I've been meaning to tell you, for God's sake, not to tell Coach and to get a fake I.D., like yesterday."
"Fuck no, I'm 17," Mitchell said defiantly. "I turned 17 on Wednesday, before Coach ever touched me."
"Well, happy fucking birthday," Jeff said, laughing.
"It was...I celebrated it on Thursday, with you and Coach. Best birthday I've ever had. Now, as I was saying, we only have five probable tops - Jeff, me, Dewey, Alex and Landen. Landen can top, barely. Understand, though, none of those guys know exactly what we're up to, but they've expressed - or demonstrated - enough interest that we're confident they'll all play. So, I suggested you, Finn, as the possible sixth. Coach knew who you were from watching a few of your games in the spring, and, well, to put it mildly, Coach now has a major hard on for you—"
"I'd call it more like a raging boner," Jeff interrupted, "and it's not because baseball's his favorite sport, because it's not."
"Anyway," Mitchell continued, I asked you to come over so we could see if you'd be interested, and so Jeff could, um, check you out."
"He means sample the merchandise," Jeff chimed in, "so to answer your earlier question, yeah, we are into group shit. I had been thinking earlier about us having an introductory three way - one that featured your cock up my ass - while Mitchell and I kind of felt you out about Coach...but since we don't have to sell you on fucking 'the old guy,' I could see going straight to a four way..."
"This really isn't a trick question, is it?" Finn asked after thinking it over a minute. "It just seems like one, I think...and, regardless, thanks for thinking of me."
"Dude, if you mean, 'Is this shit too good to be true?'" Jeff said, "then, yeah, it probably sounds like that, but it's not, since it is true, see?"
"Finn, we were going to tell you every bit of this," Mitchell weighed in, "only in stages...mostly because, despite the fact that Jeff and me are spending a long weekend+ at Coach's house, and we both fucking worship him, Coach has this crazy idea that guys our age don't want to fuck guys his age, so he wanted us to be extra careful in sounding you out on the age question."
