All Male Fiction: Stiff Jock

By: Unknown Author

It was an unusually hot October day. The dorm was not air-conditioned, so I had the window open. I had been jogging earlier, and I was still shirtless in a pair of running shorts, studying on my bed. The door opened, and my roommate, also in gym clothes, staggered into the room.

Tim and I had been roommates for about six weeks, and friends for the better part of a year. We had hit it off in English class last spring. Since neither of us was thrilled with the roommates assigned to us as freshmen, we decided to room together sophomore year. Tim was a smart jock, and I was an athletically active "brain". Both our families were dirt poor. He was getting a free ride for his abilities in gymnastics and track, and I for my grades and SAT scores.

Fortunately, Tim's extraordinary athletic talents didn't extend to either basketball or racquetball, so we had sports in which we were fairly evenly matched. That matchup extended beyond athletics. I respected his opinion, so I had someone to bounce ideas off of when writing a paper.

We had double-dated for a while. Neither one of us had any trouble getting women interested in us - just the opposite. Unfortunately, I wasn't very good at the sex part. Hell, I was plain awful! I had only managed to cum inside a woman twice in my entire life. Of course, I already knew why, but I wasn't about to tell Tim, even though I got the vibe that maybe we shared that in common.

After closing the door, Tim pulled off his top and his shorts and fell face down on the bed.

"You're late today," I commented. "Rough practice? You look like shit." That was a lie. Tim never looked like shit, and certainly not face down on the bed wearing only his jock.

"Coach said we were loafing," he replied. "He really loaded it on. I've never ached so much in my life. Even my ass hurts."

"Oh yeah?" I offered. "Just what goes on in gymnastics practice?"

"Fuck you. The muscles hurt. You can laugh if you want, but I feel like I've just fallen down a staircase."

"If you're that sore, why didn't you go to the trainer? Isn't he supposed to be really good?"

"Mike is very good, but he's traveling with the football team. So is the assistant trainer. Those of us in minor sports are pretty low on the totem pole during football season."

I stared at the long body sprawled face down across the room from me. He couldn't see me, so I indulged myself. Usually, I had to be satisfied with surreptitious glances whenever he was changing or showering. From those glances, I knew that his body was virtually hairless, apart from his head, crotch, and armpits, and there was virtually no fat on his six-two frame whatsoever. His arms and back were well-muscled. From his broad shoulders to his 31" waist, his torso was a dramatic trapezoid, and his hips flared only a little and blended into long, exquisitely muscled legs.

Currently, I find my foreshortened view quite breathtaking. What stood out most, however, was his spectacular ass. People talk a lot about bubble butts. Those gorgeous rounded firm orbs that result from good genes and a lot of gym work. I love them too. But this ass was more like twin mountains. Their peaks rode high, slightly nearer the small of the back than the legs. The outer flanks were concave. Two broad ridges rode down to meet the thighs. I knew that the vaguely triangular impression was reinforced from other angles as well. Framed today by the elastic of the jock, his ass looked particularly spectacular. You don't see an ass like that very often. I did though - every day, if only for a few seconds. I practically lived for those moments.

I inhaled deeply and said, "I don't know if I can do anything to help, but do you want me to give it a shot?" Where the hell did that come from?

"I guess you can try," he said hesitantly. "I'm really starting to cramp up now." He turned his head toward me as he spoke, but I couldn't really read his expression. I put my book down and walked awkwardly over to his bed. I was pretty hard by now, but his head was turned away again and he didn't notice.

"Scoot over," I ordered. "I'm going to have to sit down. This bed is too low for me to do any good standing up." He wriggled aside to make room. "Should I start at your shoulders?" I asked.

"Sore as I am, it's as good a place as any," he answered. "You should use some Ben Gay. There's a bottle on my dresser."

I got the ointment and slathered it on the palms of my hands. The sharp smell filled the room. I dug my fingers rhythmically into his shoulders. "Tell me what I'm supposed to be doing. I need to know what works."

"That's good, but dig harder," he instructed. "You're supposed to be able to find the tight, knotted spots and work them out."

I moved my hands around and dug deeper. He was tight here, and here, and over there. I worked the spots hard with my fingers.

"That's it, dude!" Tim announced. "You've got it! If you don't get into med school, Doug, you've got another career to fall back on."

I beamed like a kindergartener getting a gold star. I continued working on his arms and back until I reached the top of his jockstrap. I moved down to his calves and worked my way back up. I spent a lot of time on the back of his thighs. When I reached the bottom of the jock's elastic bands, I stopped.

"We'd better pull that off, or you'll wind up with Ben Gay all over it. You don't really want to put on a jock covered with Ben Gay tomorrow." He didn't say anything so I started tugging the waistband down over his ass. The front however snagged.

"Hang on man," he said. "There's something in the way." Tim reached in front of himself and in a complicated move pulled the jock down past his groin.

"You didn't pull a boner on me did you, buddy?" I chuckled and wriggled the jock down to his ankles and unhooked the elastic. I hoped he wouldn't turn around and see the woody I was sprouting.

"Eat shit," he burst out. "If you were more of a jock, you'd know it happens to everybody on the trainer's table from time to time."

"Well, I'm flattered anyway," I joked, finally getting the fabric completely off. I brought it to my nose, as I had often done with his underwear. The smell was a rich brew of excrescences. It was great. "How long since you washed this thing?"

"Three weeks, a month? I don't know. It stays in my locker unless I come back without showering." I shoved it into his face. "All right, get it away! You made your point. I'll wash it tonight."

"Don't do me any favors," I said, tossing the garment casually back toward my side of the room. After we were done, I would make sure it became "lost".

I was now faced with my fantasy coming alive. I put my hands on his left cheek and a shudder ran straight through me. I grabbed and kneaded the muscles as Tim let out a long noisy breath. He was right. Rock hard as that butt was, I could still feel a ton of knots deep in the ass muscles. I dug in and worked them out one at a time. Tim squirmed as I pushed and pulled. We stopped the banter. This had become awfully intimate, and neither of us was willing to acknowledge what was going on. I worked carefully and methodically, going back and forth between the two cheeks. My fingers dove into the cleft of the ass to get a good purchase. As I worked my way toward his thighs they occasionally brushed his hole, causing him to emit little gasps.

Finally, Tim said, "I think we're done there. Thanks, buddy."

"All right," I replied. "Turn over."

"That's ok," he said, "you've done more than your duty here. I'm good now."

"Bullshit!" I said. "I know your front is as knotted as your back. You're just afraid to roll over because you sprung a woody," I teased. "Look, if this really happens on the trainer's table, you've done it before. Remember, I'm a doctor - to be, anyway. When someone pops a boner getting shaved for hernia surgery, they just nick him with the razor. Poof… it's gone. What trick does that trainer have?"

"You don't want to know," he replied.

"Probably jerks you all off," I countered with a laugh. Tim was pointedly silent.

With a little coaxing, I got him to roll over. I had seen it before of course. Sometimes even half-hard, like when he got out of the shower after jerking off. But this was the first time I had ever seen it in full bloom. It was thick, between 7 and 7 ½ inches long, with a great, well-formed head poking far past the sheath that encircled the top part of the shaft.

"I thought it would be longer," I deadpanned.

Tim hit me with a pillow. Then he noticed the major tent in my own shorts. He smiled and said nothing. I started with his thighs, easing my way upward. With his tool in my face, it was getting harder and harder to focus on working out the knots. As I got near the groin, the outer part of my fingers rubbed against his ball sack. Both his sack and his cock twitched as I worked. I moved to his chest, working it hard. I was as rough with his nipples as I could get away with.

"Stop it, Doug," he pleaded, "or we're going to have a serious accident here."

Boldly, I took his raging tool in my left hand and his sack in my right. "No accident Tim, on purpose, definitely on purpose." He gasped but didn't try to stop me.

Since he seemed compliant, holding his shaft near the base, I bent down and took his cock into my mouth. I think he would have cum right then, but I had his shaft tight in my hand, with the thumb squeezing down hard on the vein. With my other hand, I squeezed his balls. I hoped I was doing it right. I had certainly spent enough time watching gay porn.

Tim arched his back and moaned loudly. "Jeez, Doug, I can't believe you're sucking my dick, or that I'm letting another dude do it!"

In response, rather than speaking, I pulled my own shorts down and began stroking my own hard-on as I worked his cock with my tongue. I released his nuts and let my fingers wander down to his asshole. He flinched as I forced my middle finger into his hole. The only lube was the Ben Gay left on my hands. He stuffed the corner of his other pillow into his mouth, but he never tried to stop me. I worked more and more of his cock into my mouth, sliding my encircling hand further down the shaft until only my forefinger and thumb held back Tim's load.

The big head pushed against the back of my throat. I straightened out my gullet like I had read on the Internet and pushed forward. The back of my throat opened and the head pushed through. I gagged and immediately panicked and pulled off, choking violently.

"You okay, Doug?" Tim asked. "Maybe we should stop this."

"Let me try again," I gasped. This time I knew what to expect and managed it much better, going up and down the shaft like I had done this a hundred times before.

Tim had not showered since his practice ended and his crotch smelled rich and musky. I continued to work his prostate with my finger. He writhed in response. When I felt he could hold it back no longer, I let the pressure of my thumb slacken slightly.

Propping himself on one elbow, Tim grabbed my hair and pulled my head back and forth on his cock, thrusting his hips at the same time. "Suck it, yeah, suck me dry!" he was nearly shouting. Then the cum burst out like a torrent, in wave after wave, and the jism leaked liberally from the corners of my mouth. It tasted different from mine. Not better, but sharper, and was very thick.

When he was done, Tim sighed and plopped back on the bed. He looked at me struggling with my mouthful of cum and said, "Swallow it, Doug. Swallow my spunk."

For me, that was the hottest thing yet. He had just cum and had lost that edge of horniness that could be used as an excuse for letting me suck him off, yet he still wanted me to swallow his load. There could be no "that got out of hand/we were just way too horny" shit now. I had long wanted him and suspected he had the same desires, and now we had both confirmed it.

My shorts and jock were resting below my ass cheeks, and as I swallowed down his load, Tim crawled to the bottom of the bed and pulled them all the way down and I stepped out of them. He then reached down to the floor and put the jock to his nose.

"And how long since you washed this," he mimicked.

"I put it on fresh this afternoon."

"Figures." He threw it across the room. He cupped my ass in his hands and brought his face to my crotch. "My turn to do you, now," he announced.

My cock was actually a tad longer than his, but not as thick. He took my tool hungrily in his mouth. After a few minutes of tongue massage, he tried to take it down his throat but failed completely.

"Let me have another go," he begged. He failed again.

"It doesn't matter, Tim," I consoled. "I don't want you to do me anyway. I want to do you again.

"I don't know about that," he replied. "I dumped an awfully big load down your throat. I'm kinda drained."

"It doesn't matter," I countered. "Roll over."

As I said, he wasn't stupid. He got it right away. "Hey dude, I've never done that before."

"Well, it's all new to me, too."

"No shit?" He was incredulous. "That was your first blowjob?"

"First time giving one, anyway… was it good?"

"Fuck, yeah, you've got a real talent for it!"

"Thanks, now let's see how good I am at other things. Roll over."

He considered for a few seconds and then said, "Well, I've actually always wanted to try that, and, to be honest, I always kind of wanted you to be my first, so, alright, let's go for it… but go slow. I might bail. You got any lube?"

This was not exactly something I had planned to happen. "No," I said. "What about some liquid soap?"

"Well, it's water-based and slippery like lube, so I guess that would work," Tim agreed.

Luckily, we had a small sink in our room so I didn't have to get dressed, disguise my hard-on, and go to the communal washroom to get some. When I turned around after retrieving the soap bottle, Tim had already rolled over.

"Will that stuff sting?" Tim asked looking over his shoulder.

"Not you. They use soap solutions as enemas all the time."

"Okay, Doctor," Tim laughed.

"I expect it'll sting me pretty badly if it gets into my piss hole, though. I hope you're worth it."

"You decided that," Tim grinned. "This has been your show from the start."

"Like you weren't wiggling your ass at me when you came in. 'Oh, Dougy, my ass is so sore!" I mocked.

He smiled and then looked worriedly at my large, extended rod. "Are you planning to put it all in? It's starting to look pretty big to me."

"I'll be using it all. That is if you let me. You should be thankful I'm not as thick in the shaft as you. Once the head is in, we're golden."

I squirted some soap on my fingers and pushed my finger gently in, working it around. At the same time, I squirted some soap on my cock and used my other hand to slick it up.

Tim hadn't really reacted until I began working a second finger into his hole. Then he clamped down, arched his back, and let out a long, clenching groan.

"Stick it in me now, Doug," he pleaded, "Before I back out."

I put the head against the barrier and pushed firmly. Tim cried out, but the head popped in. I held it and pushed some more in, held it, pushed some more. I had the best of intentions to work slowly in, to get him used to me, but I now had him impaled halfway on my cock, and I wanted my cock in this jock now - all the way. I shoved hard and my hips met his ass with a loud smack.

"Oh fuck!" he cried out. "It hurts, hurts like hell! Stop! Take it out! Take it out!" I was fairly sure he was sobbing but trying not to let on that he was.

"I'm sorry, I just got carried away. I didn't mean to hurt you," I said as I held my cock in him. "But, the hard part's over now," I declared. "Your cherry is fairly and completely busted. Don't worry, it will feel better soon." Now I took short, slow strokes, and after about a minute, he started to moan. "It's okay now?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's so weird, but the pain just went away and now it feels… incredible!"

"I told you."

"But, how did you know. You said you've never done this before."

"I haven't, but I have looked up stuff about it on the Internet, and everything I read said it hurts at first but then it changes to amazing pleasure. So, now that it feels good, just lie back and try to enjoy the rest of the ride," I said and grabbed his hips and raised his ass in the air. I continued with long, slow strokes for a bit, and as I fucked him, Tim grabbed his own cock and began to stroke it.

Soon I upped the pace and, eventually, I was pounding him with all my might. Tim seemed to approve of my increased tempo because he screamed, "Fuck me, man! Fuck me hard! As hard as you can! I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum! I want you to cum, too. Cum, Doug, please, cum now!"

Moments later I heard his groans as he ejaculated, and felt his ass clamp down and then contract around my stiff cock. The amazing feeling of that hit me hard, and I let loose myself in wave after shuddering wave, filling his virgin ass with its very first load of man-juice. After I finished unloading my balls, I pulled out and collapsed on the bed next to him.

"I can't believe I just got fucked up the ass," Tim panted.

"Why, do you regret doing it?"

"No, it was better than anything I'd imagined. I just never expected it to be me. What I mean is, I expected that I'd be the one fucking you, not the other way around."

"The day's young yet," I grinned.

"True," Tim said as he ran his hands lightly over my chest. "But, we've got another problem."

"What's that buddy?"

"My ass still hurts."

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