That first week together was magic. We spent a great day together hanging my art around the room. We did the paintings first, then interspersed some of my best sketches and pastels around them. After the first hour or so, looking at each other's naked bodies reaching and stretching, turning and bending, hammering and wiping off sweat, as well as the beautiful muscled torsos we were hanging, we erupted into about an hour of glorious sex: we eagerly 69'd, hands firmly clasped on each other's hard asses, feverishly poking around in holes, until we just had to fuck; then after each taking the other, we lay in bed, totally high, surrounded by my work, our room a gallery of stylized male eroticism, and soon, of course-talking frankly about my drawings, saying what was hot in this one or that one, Jack waxing eloquent like he was suddenly some connoisseur of dicks-we stroked each other into hardness again.
"God," said Jack, licking my cream off his fingers after I tensed and shot, "I love what I'm into now, holding your hard body, your hard dick, seeing you shoot." As he polished off the last bit, he said, "Do you think there's a lot of protein in cum? Cause I really feel, the way I seem to be bulking a bit more, like I'm getting extra protein in my diet."
On Monday I called the number the guy on the beach gave me, the one who expressed interest in my art. It turned out to be the name of a downtown gallery I'd heard of, Devin Brand Gallery. I assume the guy on the beach that day was Mr. Brand himself. His receptionist said he'd be out of town a couple weeks, he was in Venice for the Biennale. I left my name, and told her what my call was in reference to. Then she really shocked me by adding, "Oh yes, the young artist Mr. Brand met that day by the river. He told me I might expect a call from you. He's very keen to see your work. I'll tell him you called, and I'm sure he'll call as soon as he gets back." Whoa, not only Mr. Devin Brand Gallery, but he's keen on my work. I was stoked. It gave me new enthusiasm to try to do a couple more paintings before he returned. I knew I wanted to do a big one of Jack, but wasn't sure what else.
And of course, we worked out. Jack got me going on a stepped-up exercise regimen immediately. I could see why this guy was so built now, he was a fitness guru. He spent the first few days in the gym showing me all sorts of new exercises, plus showing me how to superset exercises, how to vary weights on each repetition for maximum pump, and how to combine different exercises in combinations that would maximize efficiency. I was sore as hell after the first couple days, but Jack would rub me down in the sauna afterwards, so I don't think I was quite as sore as I could have been. He gave me diet tips constantly, too. And started me running, which I'd done very sporadically before then. By the end of the first week, I was doing two-a-days in the gym, just like Jack (my morning routine was in the students' gym; my afternoon session I'd do with Jack in the athletic complex's gym), and several miles a couple times a week. Jack brought his workout down to my level for the first week or so-he had been at the stage where each day he would just work one muscle group, fine-tuning that brilliantly chiseled physique, but with me, it had to be a whole upper-body set one day and lower-body the next, so I could get a good muscle base going ("Don't worry," he said, when I told him how guilty I was that he was dumbing down his pro routine, "it never hurts to shock my muscles with something they don't expect."). He simply increased weights. Soon, though, I was able to work up to his regimen of isolated muscles. My previous plateau was busted, and I started seeing results after about 8 days.
Working out with Jack was incredible. First, there was seeing that awesome body get pumped even bigger as he lifted. I sported wood at every workout. But then there was Jack being so hands-on as he showed me proper lifting procedure. He'd nuzzle up close, make sure his jock-encased dick was right in the crack of my ass, pressing that solid chest up against me, and hold my arms lightly as I learned the right form. He'd feel the muscle as it contracted, to make sure I got the right pump, and he'd whisper, "God, I'm so fucking hot for you. You are so fucking beautiful. Let's jack each other off in the sauna, no matter what!" He made washing my back and ass seem like just a normal thing buddies did. I'm sure some of the other football players thought it was weird at first, but damned if I didn't start seeing a couple more guys each day say, "Hey, get my back willya?" to a bud on the team.
Being so close to the football team like this was an experience. First there were the locker rooms. When the team wasn't either dressing or undressing by their lockers, they were almost always nude: walking to and from the showers or sauna or scales, drying or combing hair by the mirrors, standing around talking, or just engaged in aggressive, semi-lewd horseplay (like towel-snapping, I couldn't believe they still did that, but dang was it cool to see some huge beefy linebacker with a red welt on his meaty ass, chasing another guy down the hall for revenge). It was like you were a sissy or something if you covered yourself with a towel or even wore a jock. Any guests the players bought who didn't know the unwritten rule were soon met with "Hey, not enough down there to show off, huh?" or "Oooh, gotta hide the hard-on from staring too much, don't ya?" It just took one taunting to overcome any modesty. Then there was just being among all those beefy specimens lifting, feeling each other up, studying themselves in the weight room mirrors. Not to mention the heady feeling of being naked among so many built dudes in the shower.
There was one player on the team I was especially interested in-not just cause he was hot as hell, but because I was aching to draw this guy. In fact, I wanted him to be the second new painting I would have ready to show Devin Brand when he got back from Venice. He was young-looking, but I'd always had trouble guessing black men's ages. I guessed he was freshman or sophomore, but Jack later told me he was the senior running back, a star of the team. He set a conference record last year for both yardage and touchdowns. Damn that dude was gorgeous. I had to consciously remind myself to look away from him. His name was Jamal Evans. The best way to describe him was to imagine you were doing a fantasy cartoon-movie, and you had a race of rock warriors. Imagine you had to draw these exaggerated highly-muscled stone gladiators-Jamal would be one. He had a kind of dark cocoa skin, with just a hint of cinnamon; it was smooth, rich, and luscious. I realized from seeing him in the locker room and showers that he must have shaved his body, cause there was not a trace of hair on him, even under his arms, except for the close-cropped, perfectly-groomed hair on his head, and a small rectangular strip above his dick. Though he was a bit shorter than Jack, his massive frame was much bigger, but, amazingly, just as ripped. He looked like Jack only enlarged. If Jack was carved from marble, this guy was hewn from granite. But he was surprisingly lithe and fluid, just radiating an almost feminine grace and ease. I'd watch him move around the weight room and locker room like a big jungle cat. I wouldn't have been surprised if you told me his other extra-curricular activity was dance. And his dick, shit, I had never seen one like it before: it wasn't exactly long-it looked to be about maybe 7 inches soft-it was the thickness. And not thick all over: he was uncut, with a small rounded head, but then his dick flared wide, the whole thing perched high on a huge set of balls bigger than my fist. All I could think about his cock was that it looked like a luscious, sexy sweet potato. I studied it every chance I got, wanting to draw it, suck it, hold it, stroke it, feel it get hard, feel that wild thickness firmly rooted up my ass. His locker was across the aisle from the one Jack & I shared, and I loved to watch him put on a jock. He always wore one of those thin-banded runners' jocks, so you saw this chocolate granite god, with just this sexy little strap curving down around the top of his dick, jutting down way low, with no hair, just cut muscle showing, then hugging around that small waist and squat, hard, bubble butt, showcasing his thick, beefy thighs, with the thin white mesh barely holding back that bulging beauty, its dark outline easily traced with my eyes. The more I watched him, the more I knew I had to paint him.
His face, too, was gorgeous. He had that kind of aquiline, feminine beauty a lot of young black men have. His nose, widely-flared at the base, was otherwise slender and gently curved, and his lips were incredible-so full and dusky, the edges of each curved sensually back; I stared at them for long stretches, imagining them caressing my dick as it moved in and out, in and out, or passing over my chest, stopping to engulf a nipple. Jamal's eyes were clear, alert, and knowing. His head, too, seemed carved from the same mass of stone his body was, only polished smooth: he had very pronounced ridges down each side of his forehead and back along each side of his head, just off the top. I imagined tracing those ridges back and forth with my tongue or rubbing my dick across them. The hair on his head was kept very close, just a notch above shaved. The little that grew was immaculately razored all over; he obviously got into grooming, as he was one of the few team members who shaved and trimmed their pubic hairs. I was sure his ass crack was smooth and thought all the time about burying my tongue between those massive stone globes. His body was so damn smooth everywhere, which just set off so well that hefty sweet potato and huge dark ball sac. I had to figure out a way to get this guy to pose for me.
But after that first week, classes started, and so did evening practice for Jack. So now for Jack it was weights (with the team trainer) at 6, run til 10, then classes, then some free time for him (time when I was in class), weights again for both of us at 3:30 til 5:30, then practice for Jack from 7 to sometimes 11. We barely had time for sex, it seemed. We slept entwined every night, but some nights Jack would come home so exhausted from practice that he just dropped into bed. He tried to make up for it by lovingly sucking my morning wood off around 5, thinking of the cum as an appetizer for his protein shake. Sometimes, he'd be refreshed enough that he could get up at about 4:30, his lust not to shy to wake me, and we'd fuck before he left. He loved going off to practice with his nuts drained. "I bet I'm the only teammate gettin' it on a regular basis," he crowed, "and I bet NO ONE else comes to morning weights havin' just got laid!" Jack started renting a few gay porn films every week. We'd watch them and get off, of course, but then Jack would watch them again, studying them carefully. It always made me laugh, it was like he was watching game film, to study good moves, sneaky offenses, find out which plays would never work. "I gotta get these moves down, make up for time wasted!" he maintained. Sure enough, soon all the raw clumsiness was gone from his love-making. The intensity, the enthusiasm, the raw passion were still there, more so, maybe: now that he could control it so well, it's like his desire became fused with his powerfully trained athleticism. It made our sex even better. He sucked cock like he'd been doing it his whole life. And he mastered new positions for fucking: one of us holding the other up or lying side-by-side. One time he brought home a cockring from the sex shop he rented movies at; he'd seen it in a film and was fascinated by it. Sure enough, the first time we fucked with it was incredible. Jack was bigger, harder, and longer than ever it seemed. He especially liked fucking where I lie on my back and he lowered his ass onto me; that way, could set the pace on top, squeezing and wriggling as he pulled his hips up and down. I loved it cause Jack got so into it: that hyper-trained body had no problem gyrating as long as I could stay hard. All that ass-rubbing on my cock, I knew it was those years of pent-up frustrations and fantasies, they had created an itch Jack loved to keep scratching.
One DVD, called 'Hot Frat Nites,' had a couple 3-ways and an orgy scene, all with really cute young muscle studs. Jack replayed each scene a couple times, staring and stroking his cock rhythmically as he watched, the way my studio prof rubbed his jaw, musing, while considering some student's work. Finally, he turned to me.
"Hey, Tom, what do you think of that?"
"That? Are you kidding? It's hot as fuck. Look at my dick, dude." It was jetting straight up as I pumped it.
"Yeah, me too. Damn, Tom, do you think we should try that?"
"You mean you and mean and another guy or guys? Damn, Jack, sounds hot as hell. We're in college for fuck's sake. That's the kind of crazy shit we're supposed to be doing now. I mean, holy fuck, I can think of a few guys on the team I would most definitely like to join us one night, starting with Jamal. Why, you got anybody in mind?"
Then he turned: "Tom, you know what I feel for you, right? Call it love or passion or commitment or relationship or whatever. But I also feel I just gotta make up for lost time. My body is definitely at a peak. And I fucking love male sex, man. Love sucking a cock, love getting sucked, love pumping that nice tight ass of yours and love having that sweet hard cock of yours in me. Fuck, I just like looking at your dick. But what about other dicks, you know? I think I'd love to be naked, fooling around, with a couple other hardbodies. I mean, I guess I'm saying I can separate what I feel for you from a healthy young male oversexed sex drive, you know? Stuff like throwing a hot fuck with another guy or 2 would be just like a sort of intense athletic game or something, kind of like a wild body work-out. And like, this too: I know I'm away at class and practice and all a lot, and, well, I know we both seem to need to get off several times a day, so like don't feel bad if you get horny and see some cute guy and want to get it on when I'm not around. Just don't fall for anyone else, you shit!"
I rubbed his body all over and nudged my dick up in his ass crack. "Not a chance of that, stud. And same with you man, if you ever get the opportunity to get it on with some young stud in the showers after practice or whatever you hot jock boys do, go for it. Just be sure to tell me every sick fucking detail! And if you find yourself with Jamal, you better get me on my cellie immediately!" "Shit, dawg, you got it bad for Jam, don't you? But dude, no way he's gay. Ain't you seen that hot young blond who wears almost nothing who meets him every day after weights? That boy's a pussy-hound, not a cock-hound." "I don't know, but my gaydar is usually pretty reliable. I think that thick dark rod of his has seen its share of asses." All this talk about sex got us steamy, and so I started loosening his pucker as he cooed gratefully. I lubed up my shaft which seemed harder than usual. It was like I was even hotter for Jack, knowing he would now be playing the field a little. I wanted to mark my turf, assert my ultimate right to this muscle-stud's ass. Jack whimpered in ecstasy as I plowed him. He came without either of us stroking his dick, but I kept pounding away for a few more minutes; his healthy jock dick got almost instantly harder, and then as I could feel myself cumming, I jerked hard short thrusts into him, which rattled him over the edge into another orgasm. Afterwards, as we lay stroking each other, we decided to see tomorrow afternoon in the gym who we might come up with in the way of a possible player for Jack's new game.
And to my utter delight, my gaydar proved right. The next afternoon was the day Jack got me on his weight program of isolating and exhausting various muscles every day, and we spent over 3 hours in the gym. By the time we were finished in the weight room, everyone else was gone, probably long gone. We hit the sauna with me feeling pain in muscles I didn't even know I had. As we opened the door, who was slouching against the wall on one of the benches? Had he been waiting, I wondered later.
"Hey, Jam, 'sup?" Jack greeted my fantasy-stud. God, to see his chocolate rock-hardness gleam with sweat. I could just feel the blood flood my cock.
"Hey, Jackie." Then he noticed me, "And hey, Blondie. You guys here late, too?"
"Yeah, showing some new moves to my buddy here, who overdid it a bit."
Jack and I took the bench right across from Jamal, and Jack proceeded to rub me down. I lie on my stomach, he straddled me, and then went to work. Jack's mind was in the same groove as mine, I guess, with both of us thinking, 'Our first 3-way!' cause Jack got lewd almost instantly. He made a show out of fitting his flint-hard cock right in my ass-crack. "How's that feel, dude?" he asked. "Mmmmm, incredible," I moaned. Then he rubbed my shoulders, but really he sort of dry-fucked my ass.
"Dang, what the fuck?" Jam was into it instantly. I watched that thick dick get hard, the pink top not quite poking out from the sheath of chocolate skin. One hand was immediately on his shaft, and one went for that huge set of balls. Jack responded by having me turn over, and he straddled me again, and this time, with cocks pressed together, he lusciously massaged my pecs down to my hip-bones; every once in a while he would swoop down and our tongues would dance together.
"Whooo-eeeeh, fuck that shit is hot. Jack, I ain't know you were on the down-low."
"Oh fuck, Tom, you feel so good!" Jack was caught up in lust now, shit was going to happen. "'Down-low,' Jam, what'd you say?" And now Jack was on my dick, lapping and sucking and gobbling. I had my head in his hands, my hips wriggling around.
"Oh fuck, I gots to get me some of this." Jamal wriggled up next to me so that his rock-hard sweet potato was pressed right up against the side of my face. Then he started kissing and licking along with Jack, reaching in to grab Jack's dick in his huge hand.
"Oh yeah, Jam, suck me, man, and give Tom yours!" I couldn't believe it. Jack was now directing his own 3-way! I eagerly lapped up the dark cocoa fuckstick that had tantalized me for so long. There was a wash of precum on the head that I neatly scooped off with my tongue and savored-mmmm, like slightly salty honey. Then I got to work, giving Jam, hopefully, the best head he'd ever had. I played around with the head and foreskin for a while, while his high-pitched screams, muffled slightly by my lover's cock in his mouth, filled the sauna. Then I started deep-throating him and really sucking hard. Hands were everywhere as we hungrily devoured the prime stud meat in each of our mouths. Jam shot first, then me, and then Jack went, after face-fucking Jam hard and rapid. We all lay back, grinning in ecstatic delight, cum smeared all over our faces. I turned to Jam and started licking his face, especially those lips. He opened his mouth to receive my tongue and slipped his wildly into mine. After a few moments he pulled back and looked at us both.
"So you guys both on the down-low, too? Sheee-yit."
"What the fuck's this 'down-low'?" Jack panted.
I could answer that: "It's when otherwise hetero-stud-looking black guys turn out to have a secret thing for guys. Haven't you ever heard the R. Kelly song?"
"Fuck, dawg," Jam said, "I been on the down-low since midway through high school. I like gettin' laid, but damn I like dick. And fuck, you guys, this was some hot dick."
In the showers, we washed each other. I worshipped Jam's massiveness with my soapy hands. He returned the favor, making sure to spend a lot of time on my hole, as Jack stroked us both, making loving murmurs. Soon Jamal's dick was a hard twitchy piece of stone in my hands.
"Blondie, you know what I want?"
"Same as me, man. Go for it. I been feenin' fer that big-ass dick'a yours since the first time I saw it."
As Jam worked his way into me, Jack started working Jam's hole. "And you know what I want, dude, right?"
"Aw yeah, Jackie, I love gettin' plugged while I'm dickin' some young guy's ass. Do it, stud, fuck me."
So there we were, under two rushing jets of water, liquid sexily streaming off our cut physiques, our moans echoing off the tiled walls, mixing with the sultry steam. Jam was incredibly strong; he was pumping me with the same force he'd use to run down the field for a score.
"Oh shit," I cried, "God that thick dick is incredible. Oh Jam, keep pounding man, fuck you feel good."
"Aw fuck, Blondie, I'm so hard and thick cause your boyfriend has my ass so filled. That long hard shaft has got my own dick harder than ever. How's y'own sweet cock doin'?" And he reached that big strong hand around and, with a tenderness that belied his bruising size, lovingly played with the head of my dick, fingering my slick piss-hole with a big finger. He scooped off what he found there and licked his chops. "Oh hurry and shoot, fucker," he cried. "I need another loada that tasty cream you got."
Then he reached under to milk my balls. A few seconds of that and he felt them tighten and knew his load was coming. "Oh yeah, got me some'a dat blonde spunk!" I unloaded into his palm as he kept up his thrusts. Then I heard Jam yell, "Oh fuck, Jackie, you way to much for me!" Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the muscles in Jam's neck tense and then felt him pump into my guts. Almost immediately it gushed out my hole and leaked down my thighs.
"You two punks can't last as long as this stud! I could fuck that sweet brown ass of yours all night, Jam." And Jack kept thrusting over and over into Jam's hot ass; I could feel each thrust as the massive running back knocked into me. I could also feel his dick hardening up in me. "Aw fuck, Blondie! You feel dat? Jackie's done pounded me hard again!"
"Great, dude, give it to me, man! I'm all wet and wide open from your last pounding. Aw, Jack, you gotta feel Jamal's thick sweet potato in your ass some day. You won't believe how good it feels."
"Good as mine, you little slut?" Jack laughed, as he kept up a barrage on Jamal's backside.
"Aw fuck, here I go again. Damn, you twice as hard as me, Jack!" And Jam emptied just slightly less juice into my boy-pussy. I was spent. I slipped off him, and draped myself over his lusty frame, rubbing my face across the top of his head, tonguing him along those ridges I had thought so much about, one hand stroking his huge chest, tweaking his nips, the other reaching down to tickle my lover's balls.
"Oh you fucking shit, no fair!" Jack laughed hysterically. "Oh shit, here I go!"
After we recovered, we each showered and then dried off. Jack and I were all over Jam, kissing him and hugging him. I told him how much he'd always turned me on, how anxious I had been to see what that dick felt like.
"So maybe we do dis again, you two, aiiiigght?"
"Fo' fuckin' sho'!" Jack cried.
Weekend nights there was no practice, and we both liked to hit the bars. The singles bars on campus were all meat racks, but Jack dug going in there and making out with me. A lot of the guys on the team either knew or suspected I was Jack's boyfriend, so if any of them were around, they wouldn't be shocked to see Jack rubbing up next to me at the bar, or running his tongue inside my ear. He'd lead me to a table by holding his hand on my ass, middle finger deeply grooving my crack. We'd show up in wife beaters and I'd wear cargo shorts, and Jack his baggy gym shorts. I got him to give up underwear and go longer between shaves. I wanted to be able to reach down whenever we were out like this and get a comforting handful, and I loved not only the much more rugged look of his face with three day's growth of his thin, sexy beard, but there was that heavenly scratchy feel when his lean jaw would rub against my face or chest or inner thigh. He said he liked making no secret of our passion for each other in straight scenes like this cause when he thought he was straight, he used to get so aroused when he saw a particularly hot gay couple get intimate.
"God, I'd just fantasize I was doin' that to the guy, or he was doin' it to me. Bein' on a date somewhere, and seeing two guys kissing or rubbing each other got me hotter and harder than the chick I was with. I bet something like this will turn on over half the dudes in here," he said, and the arm he had around me reached over to play with my nipple, his other hand stroking my thigh. After a few beers and this kind of making-out in public, we'd head back to our dorm, thrown on some of Jack's porn, and really get hot.
One early morning, about 3 hours before my classes, there was a knock on our door. I had been sitting by the window, naked as usual, working on a composite drawing of Jack from some of my sketches. I was wearing Jack's cockring, loving the blood-engorged fullness in my dick, using it to help set the erotic tone of the drawing, trying to draw my juices into the work. I just kept working and called "Come on in!" As the door pushed open, I saw Jamal, gloriously nude and looking a little sheepish.
"Hey, Jam, 'sup?" I asked, giving him a long stare. Fuck, that dude was fine. His was my second-favorite cock, next to Jack's. Not only uncut, but that wild sweet potato thickness. I wanted to play with it and suck it immediately. "Hey, why aren't you running?" I added, knowing where Jack was.
"Pulled a hammie, so coach says star running back gets to rest up. Listen, man, is Jack's playbook around?"
"I don't know, man, let's look." I jumped out of bed, happy to be able to parade around my own nakedness, hoping Jamal might be interested in a little one-on-one repeat of that sauna-and-shower scene. I took my time looking around the floor, desk drawers, dressers, and book shelves. I was pleased I could feel myself harden, happy that my cock and balls, encased by that snug silver ring at the base, would be bouncing wantonly as I moved about the room. I decided to check Jack's closet, even though I knew he'd never keep his playbook in there, just so my dick could brush by Jamal's huge thighs. I bent all over the place looking in the closet, so my ass was pretty much shown off. When I turned back, I saw Jamal's own cock had become fully hardened; that dusky pink bullet tip was extended out beyond the foreskin, and the sweet potato was about two-thirds again longer and jutting straight away from his solid, beefy abs.
I noticed Jamal look away from me to notice the art in the rooms. He was visibly impressed, and said, "Fuck, Blondie, you do these drawings?"
"Yeah, You like 'em."
"Fuck yeah. You really know how to make a guy look hot."
"You fin' dat book?"
"No man, I guess he has it in his locker. Sorry."
"Ah well," he cocked his butt and pretended to be itching his balls, "I just had some free time, thought I'd memorize some plays." He walked over to me, making sure his straining dick hit my thigh.
"Damn, dude," he felt up my arms and chest, then rubbed up and down my stomach, making sure the edge of his hand hit my dick on every down stroke, "Jack's workout been paying off for you. You musta put on ten pounds of pure, solid muscle since I seen you last. You were lean and hot before, but now you a stud, those muscles o' yours be all full and sexy and shit. You be lookin' jus' like Jack in a couple mo' weeks. Damn, you fine," as he slowly jacked me and looked me in the eyes, licking those beautifully sensual lip, "you lookin' like sumpin' I wanna lick all over now, Blondie."
It's true, I'd gone from firm, smooth, nicely bulging, with a great set of abs, to much bulkier all over, really cut, in some places - the sides of my much bulkier chest, the front of my shoulders, and along the sides of my upper thighs, in those spots I was absolutely ripped. I knew from jacking off in front of the mirror on most late mornings: my skin looked like a fine layer of tan paint sprayed over the muscles. And now my stomach, after all those hours of reverse crunches and bent leg raises on a Roman chair, was an incredibly hot, beautifully bulging eight-pack; it was just a sleek, hard feel all the way down from my chest to my trimmed blonde bush.
"And damn," now his big, hard, warm black fingers were tracing the cockring, "what the fuck is this? Shit, this some kind of sex toy thing? Fuck, tha's hot. Damn, look how it pumps that dick up." I took Jamal's intoxicating cock in my hands boldly, as if it were my own property, and started stroking it slowly.
"Jam, did you come here for Jack's playbook or cause you knew he was gone and thought we might get it on?"
His whole face lit up in a grin, and he licked his lips delightedly; his huge black hands were all over my cock and balls. "Fuck, Blondie, I think about that time in the sauna like 8 times a day. That sweet tanned ass o' yours is sumpin' I'd love to get into again. And now that you Mr. Muscle, fuck if I don' wanna rub that shit all over."
This took a lot of willpower, but I had to do it. I dropped his dick and pulled back.
"Jam, make you a deal. You pose for me a couple times, so I can sketch you, and you can fuck me whenever you want."
"Will you let me have one a the drawin's you do? A real hot one, like these on the wall?"
"Hmmm, if I let you keep a drawing, then you're gonna have to let me fuck you."
"Shit, I was hoping I'd get that dangly piece of tanned white meat up my ass. Deal."
"All right. First posing session right now. We got about two hours til my class starts."
"Aiiiiight, but that's one hour o' art and one o' sex, OK?"
"Deal. Now go back to your room and get one of the thin jocks you wear. That's how I want you."
"Yeah, that sounds kinda sexy. Be right back."
By the time Jam returned, I had my stuff all set up. He was a fucking vision. We tried a couple different poses, and I did a few sketches of each. I also took a couple photos, so I could work on my painting of him when he wasn't around. The pose I liked best was Jam standing with one arm behind his head, looking sideways and down towards the ground, one knee cocked out a bit as he stood, and that glorious chest and massive jock plainly in view. I took a few more pictures of that, then did a very detailed sketch of it. Fortunately, Jam let me have that one. He wanted a particularly hot one of him with both hands behind his head back in ecstasy, torso charcoaled in so that all major chiseled cuts were seen, as well as his huge nipples.
I put my drawing things away and Jamal pulled me towards him. He still had his jockstrap on. We hugged together, kissing in a quickly-building frenzy of lust, dicks grinding away. I realized I still had my cockring on. This would be one fine fuck, I thought. I pushed Jam back on my bed, and went for his jock-clad meat, sucking and licking it, and blowing on it through the mesh. I kept working it over with my lips and tongue and teeth as it got harder and harder. As the precum started oozing, I worked the tip of my tongue feverishly into his mesh-covered piss-slit. All the time Jam was moaning. With my hands, I started kneading his balls through the jock, while running my tongue sloppily over his shaft. I kept one hand fooling with his balls and with the other, I moved a wet finger to his asshole.
"Oh yeah, Blondie, dat's so hot!"
I worked my finger up there while I continued to blow his dick through the jock.
"Aw fuck!" he screamed as I hit his hard little button. Soon he was pumping load after load into his jock. I sucked as much as I could through the mesh, then tongued down to that smooth dark ass crack. After a lot of lapping and tonguing, to Jam's loud squeals, I lifted his brawny thighs onto my legs and started to ease my dickhead into his moist, loosened hole. Damn I wanted to fuck this big beautiful stud.
"Oh yeah, dude, tha's what I want. Get that dick all up in me," he lay back and wriggled in anticipation. As I slowly inched my way in, I kept playing with his cock under that cum-and-saliva drenched jock. Finally I got all the way in. I just stopped looking down at my tanned, cut thighs against his bigger, darker ones, and looking at that sweet writhing face and that massive black torso. It was just the pose I wanted. I reached over, still firmly mounted in his ass, grabbed my camera, took a shot, then commenced to fucking. Jam pushed back with a fury that almost knocked me over a few times. God, he had a hungry hole.
"Fuck," he grunted, "that blond cunt I fuck can't be doin this, and damn do I need this. Oh God, Blondie you feel so good, so big, keep fucking me, hard man."
To think I was plowing the ass of one of the best running backs in the country and he was loving it. The thought sent me over the edge.
When I pulled out, Jam wasted no time. He got me on my knees and started lubing up my ass. As he worked, I could feel the wet tip of his cock smearing against the backs of my thighs. He felt rock hard. I reached around and worked some of my cum out of his ass and smeareed it up and down his shaft as he murmured approval. That thing was hot and hard and ready. As soon as he could get 3 of his massive fingers inside, he started dicking me. When he got his rhythm, and I timed my own ass-thrusts, he started kissing my back with those luscious lips.
"Aw fuck, you're a hot boy," he purred. "First day Jack brought you in I had my eye on you. Lean tan blond white boy. Fuck you hot. Watchin Jack wit' his hands all over you. I knew I had to have you."
"Aw damn, Jam. You know how much I was checkin' you out. Man, you're one solid black hunk. Fuck, no one on the team has a better body than you, not even Jack. Oh!" He was shoving it in harder now. We were both rapidly going over the edge. "Oh yeah! Hit me with that big-ass thick dick."
"Shit, this ass is so tight. My girlfriend's pussy is nothin' compared to this hole. Ah damn, I gotta be posin for you every day, Blondie cause I gotta be fuckin you every day." He was licking my back and rubbing his hands all over my sides and chest. Then he reached down to jack my dick for a while. In a second I came, a gut-wrenching climax. Jam was there a second later.
I lay next to him, hands playing over his huge smooth bulk. I started tracing a finger around one of his huge nipples while I stroked his thigh up and down.
"Oh man, you are such a fucking stud, Jamal. God, I love your body." I flipped over so I could tongue that dick that I found so remarkable. He wasted no time in wrapping his lips around mine. We both kind of half-moaned, half-purred as we loved the meat in our mouths. Mmmm, that thick, dark veiny shaft. I hel it as i worked my tongue around under his foreskin, and really worked his pisshole. Then back to deepthroating him. Jamal, meanwhile, had my cock in his big hand, and alternated between kissing and licking it, stroking it, and then engulfing my hole length up and down, in synch to my rhythm. Jam shot, then I went. We kissed, mixing our cream together.
"Aw fuck, Blondie, I've had sex with a lot of guys, but you the hottest, dude. Same time tomorrow?" I kissed him again, grabbed his dick, and told him I'd be ready, He took his drawing and left.
"Hey!" I yelled, but he didn't hear me. I looked down at that wet, cum-stained jock of his I was calling after him not to forget. Oh well, I thought, Jack and I can make good use of this tonight. I rubbed it across my face, exhilirating in its pungency.