Varsity Players

Varsity Players

Two football jocks experiment with each other

This is an entirely fictional story. It is set at the University of Pittsburgh, but it could be anywhere. Some of the other places are made-up. All characters engaged in sexual activity are over 18. © 2023, All rights reserved. Brunosden

The annual football end-of-season party had just broken up. And the two youngest members of the team--Billy Templeton and Tad Stevenson--knew it was their job to handle the cleanup. The event had been held in the jock dorm basement commons room which had a large flat screen where the Saturday evening game had been played. About two dozen team-mates and their dates had been enjoying the "beer and wings" bash--an annual event, this year held on the night of the semi-final match in their division--which would determine one of the two teams going to the final tourney. Although most were too young to drink legally, officials looked the other way at the annual event--in fact at most campus parties--provided campus police were vigilant and "collected keys" to avoid driving issues.

Pitt was not in the finals this year, but the party was scheduled nevertheless. The tradition: if Pitt is in the finals, the bash is a victory bash, held one week after the finals; if not, it was held on the "Semi-Saturday," when the semi-final game was telecast. The party had been raucous--the players shouting out encouragement, advice, and disdain over various plays that had been called, succeeded or flubbed. The room was a mess. Plastic drink cups, napkins, plates and various plastic utensils were piled everywhere. Few had bothered to use the large plastic receptacles that had been placed around the room. And the furniture had all been moved for maximum viewing, and of course maximum privacy--as the players made out with their dates during time outs and half time. There were no windows and the only light came from the ceiling fluorescents which had been off during the match. After the game, most guys took their dates upstairs or home--and the room was flooded with blinding light to permit a thorough cleanup--a condition exacted by the University--regular cleaning staff were not required to deal with parties.

Knowing they were going to be bartenders, waiters and clean-up crew for the event meant that neither had invited a date. Billy and Tad labored for over an hour, collecting trash, throwing a few items of "intimate apparel" in the lost and found, and even swabbing the floor to mop up the spilled bear and wing sauce. The place was looking pretty good. The wide screen had been rented for the event and would be theirs until Monday when the agency came to pick it up. So when they finished, they grabbed a couple of those ubiquitous red plastic cups and parked themselves in front of the screen to begin their own party.

Tad was an up and coming quarterback, second string varsity--in his sophomore year. He and Billy (a fullback) were the only sophs on the varsity team, and would doubtless be starters next year. Billy already had had a year as the leading ground gainer on the team. So they had also become room-mates at the Shenley dorm, reserved for elite athletes. Their presence in the backfield almost always confused defense--they were a double threat, pass or run, either was possible; both were credible. All they needed was an end who could catch and a coach that could fake-out the defense with unusual play calls.

Tad was about 6-3, slim, lightly muscled and long-legged, with crew-cut dirty blonde hair, dark blue eyes and a square jaw. And he had the typical runner's high small butt. Tad was cut and about 7 1/2 inches--but the neo-natal surgeon had been kind and left him a thick corona scar--like a starched Elizabethan collar around the neck of a dark Beefeater's head. It gave his cock a regal air.

Billy was really very different--5-11, 235, wide and muscled, with an ass built by thousands of squats, thick thighs and a barrel chest with slab pecs and solid nipples. He had curly black hair, dark brown eyes, and a nearly hairless mocha complexion--suggesting mixed ancestry, perhaps Native American or Latino. His cock was dark, really dark, uncut, thick and about the same length as Tad's, but thicker. The gentle curve, when it was erect, gave it a natural beauty--and incidentally, some very nice utility inside a pussy.

He was the youngest son of a large family with three boys and three girls. His father was a rough, long-haul driver, based in California. He lived for football. Billy was his "trophy." Billy was obviously on a football scholarship--he had been All-State before "going East."

Tad was "almost local"--from Central Pennsylvania where his parents were both high school teachers. He was an exceptional student, an American Civ major, and his grades reflected it, while Billy was struggling to stay eligible to play, taking mostly business courses aimed at athletes. So Tad did a lot of tutoring--and his tutoring had earned him a natural alpha position in their relationship--although Billy was clearly bigger and much stronger. And Billy didn't seem to mind the help--or the attention. He was a big step above dumb jock, a good-natured, smiling, friendly bro--until you handed him pigskin on the field. Then he was an enraged bull.

Tad had planned carefully for tonight. He had been looking forward to this evening for some time. Tonight he was going to take Billy to a new place from which Tad hoped there would be no return. He had been attracted to Billy for almost two years, but Billy at first seemed not to notice. They had met on the JV practice field more than a year ago and had been roommates since the beginning of this year. They enjoyed a casual nudity in the room, frequent bro hugs and ass taps,and occasionally showered and jerked together.

Then a few months ago, Tad returned from a date, quite high and very horned--she hadn't been "into him" (which meant of course, that he hadn't gotten into her). Billy was already in the room and sleeping. Tad stripped and fell into bed, pretending not to realize it was Billy's bed. Billy was out and slid over to make room. If he had, Tad would have feigned deeper drunkenness and retreated. But that didn't happen. Billy just flipped on his side and moved over. Soon Tad had wrapped himself around Billy's warm naked body and pulled him tightly into his own, positioning his rock hard dick between Billy's thighs. He shot into his fist a few seconds later and transferred his cum to his boxers.

The next morning, when the guys awakened, Tad was spooning Billy, and Billy's wood was hard in Tad's tight fist while Tad's rigid cock was sliding along Billy's moist cleft. Billy, in his morning, semi-consciousness didn't protest. The rest followed naturally. They moved automatically until both guys relieved the other, and then they both went to shower and dress. Not a word had been spoken.

Over the next few weeks, there were many occasions when they stroked each other to orgasm, always as a result of something Tad initiated and always without a word. They were unspoken and unspeaking stroke buddies, and Billy was falling into the pattern. He waited patiently for Tad to start something; then he participated vigorously--and silently. Tad was enjoying the situation, but it worried him some that Billy, although generally a willing follower into sex, never used words to acknowledge it. Perhaps that was the way Billy was dealing with the situation--he couldn't be gay or bi if he didn't say he was. Meanwhile, he was soaking up Tad's attention.

Tad hooked up his laptop (into which he had loaded a number of MMF porn features), turned it on, stripped off his jeans, and plopped onto the sofa. Billy grabbed his cup and sat down beside him. Within minutes both of the guys were rock hard. Billy expected Tad to reach over and grab his shaft, but he was surprised. Instead, Tad reached around and pulled Billy back-down into his lap. Eyes remained glued to the screen where one hunk was screwing a bimbo while another big guy with a porn-sized dick was mounting the hunk. One of Tad's hands was snaking its way slowly, but steadily, under Billy's sweats' waistband while the other was pinching his nipples and cupping his hardened pecs. Billy was commando! So Tad continued, stroking, caressing the balls, reaching under to tease the taint. Billy was moaning in contentment and aching for more. So Tad reached farther and using Billy's precum moistened his index finger and rimmed. Billy shivered, but bucked up and spread his legs far apart, inviting more. Tad inserted a finger; then two; then three, slowly opening him up, beginning to finger-fuck his buddy. Billy was breathing hard, darkening and his hardened nipples were pushing through his tee. He was definitely enjoying the seduction.

Tad assumed he had Billy pretty much where he wanted him. Billy was panting with desire and pushing up into Tad's stimulating fingers. So he withdrew his hand, pulled off Billy's tee, then his own, and pushed Billy's sweats to the floor. Billy was naked and aroused and ready for anything Tad wanted.

So Tad took a chance. He pulled Billy back into his lap, this time chest to chest, thighs straddling Tad's legs, with Billy's ass parked nicely on Tad's erection. Tad sucked on his neck, then his ear lobes and finally kissed his lips. Another first. Billy knew what to do. Hell, he was famous for his Frenching. His lips opened and tongues dueled. His arms went up and around Tad to insure the lip-lock would persist. Tad could feel Billy's ass muscles gripping and releasing his pole. Consciously or not, Billy was giving a very good imitation of a lap dance.

Tad reached around and grasped the muscled orbs of Billy's ass. He stroked, massaged and plunged fingers into the cleft, finding and entering the hole. Billy was alive with sex. His cock was drooling pre-cum as he sought friction on Tad's abs. The hood had drawn back and exposed a glistening dark red glans and a wide deep slit. Tad pushed up from the cushion and slipped out of his jock. Now it was bare skin on bare skin--and Tad's cock was slithering through Billy's channel.

It was now or never. Tad pushed Billy up from his lap and Billy did the rest using his beefy thighs to raise himself. Tad positioned his cock at Billy's entrance and quickly lubed his shaft and the entrance. Billy was quivering in invitation. He was ready to be fucked. And Tad was ready to do the deed. Tad released his grip and Billy began to descend--pausing for a second or two here and there, his eyes rolling up into the sockets. Tad felt the tightness of the first ring, actually heard the pop, and reveled in the slide. Then his wide corona scraped Billy's love nerve bundle. Billy's eyes shot open. Billy's sensuous, sleepy face was showing shock--or was that pleasure? Tad at first thought he had pushed too hard, too fast. But no, Billy was reacting to the surprise and the incredible wonder of the pleasure of the prostate. He whispered in Tad's ear (the first words he had ever spoken during their many sexual times together), "Fuck, that's good. Where has he been all my life?"

Tad knew he had him. The next few minutes were a blur of pleasure: stroke, scrape, suck, caress, push in hard, squeeze. Billy was a natural power bottom. He was all motion: using muscles to milk, lips to suck, arms to insure a tight embrace. And Tad was exactly where he wanted to be: deep inside his friend, throbbing in anticipation, getting ready to fill him with hot, fertile spunk. Tad was cocked and loaded; his gut contracted to a hardened six-pac. One last thrust. One last groan of pleasure from Billy. Billy exploded into their near touching chests, And Tad stiffened his stretched-out legs and began to pump and fill his partner. Then there was peace and silence as the guys held tightly to each other. The cum began to drip out of Billy--and Billy's cum began to congeal on their rippled abs. Billy squeezed. He wanted Tad to stay inside. He loved the feeling of fullness. Billy pushed into Tad. He wanted his spunk to glue them together.

A few minutes later, with the musky aroma of spunk filling the air and as Billy's chest began to relax into Tad's, Billy looked into Tad's eyes. Here it comes, Tad thought. "Do it again stud."

Tad pushed Billy from his lap and stood. This was far better than he could have expected. Billy was taking this very well. Tad motioned Billy to the back cushion of the sofa and pushed him down into it. Billy's ass, his magnificent muscled ass, was presented with a perfect arch in his lower back. Tad moved behind him, as hard and as long as he had ever been. No lube was required. His spunk was still dripping down inside Billy's thigh. He had already dropped an enormous load.

Tad positioned, grabbed the deep dimples in Billy's hips and pushed. Billy was a natural. He opened and pushed back. Tad was in and bottomed with one long stroke. Billy hissed as Tad's cock scraped the love nut yet again. Tad stroked long and hard. And Billy was murmuring, "Fuck yes. Fuck yes. Fuck yes." with each stroke. Wordless sex was gone. Tad had the key to Billy's sex voice box--it was his prostate. The stroking continued as the room filled with the reflected flickering images of the screen fucking and the groans of the porn actors. Tad had cum only minutes before. But finally, he felt the sap rising from his boiling hot balls. The second orgasm is always better than the quick first. He stretched his chest over Billy's back and pushed hard. With one hand, he grabbed Billy's cock and began to stroke, using the hood to increase the pleasure. With the other, he held Billy's shoulder so that he could push ever deeper. And then they began the relentless spasming of release, collapsing over the sofa back, still linked by Tad's long dick.

Later they rose, completed the party cleanup in the nude and moved upstairs. There was no question: From that night, Tad was in Billy's bed and Billy was the "little" spoon. Tad had his fuck partner whenever he wanted him--and Billy was ready whenever. The only surprise: Billy never seemed to want to fuck Tad; he was a willing receiver.

And also from that night, their relationship changed. Billy became fiercely protective of Tad--but paradoxically, also fiercely dependent on Tad. The tutoring continued, and both guys finished the year--Tad making the Dean's list; Billy with grades sufficient to maintain football eligibility. Both continued to date, Billy probably a bit more, although neither felt the pressure to date every available night. Of course, the sex continued--and Billy was never silent again. He was learning to encourage Tad to deeper and rougher treatment. But their relationship remained a secret--at least they were pretty sure it was. Tad, however, wasn't entirely sure what Billy thought was going on. They never talked about it.

Being apart for the summer was a non-starter. Billy lived in Bakersfield, far away--and the summer would be a short one because of summer football practice. So they took a small apartment on Mt. Washington across the river and commuted together to construction sites where they were day labor--until football summer practice would begin in mid-August. They loved the strenuous, muscle-demanding hot days, the joint showers in the privacy of an apartment (often after an end-of-work-day bout of dirty sex), the even hotter nights, and weekends at Tad's folks' lake cabin, a few hours outside the city. Billy always bottomed--and typically stretched out on his belly. Tad always fucked. Billy always sucked. Tad fell easily into a dominant, top, authoritarian figure. A Daddy? They also fell into a domestic routine. Tad cooked. Billy did laundry and kept the place reasonably clean. By the end of the summer, it was clear to Tad at least that they were a couple. He still wasn't sure how Billy was dealing with them. Where did he think this was going? It only remained to deal with the upcoming football season and the rest of the team. They were obviously still in the closet.

*********

Soon the summer was over, at least for the various squads of Panthers, but obviously the hot, humid weather persisted well beyond the August 20 "first day of practice." Practices were typically held early and late and with only minimal clothes--shorts, jocks, tees, shoulder pads, cleats. It was a real display of sweaty, hard, tanned muscle.

Tad and Billy had decided to go off campus for their junior year and had found an apartment--a former housekeeper's quarters over a three-car garage on Morewood, a short walk from campus. The main house was huge, dark stone, Victorian and forbidding, but the apartment had been refreshed and had a small kitchen and one bedroom--although the guys assumed they would be taking most meals at the "training table" made available to elite athletes at a school which was always a contender in the ACC. The homeowner was a surgeon, an avid Pitt fan and had rented the place to them for a song--and an occasional appearance at "Sunday Supper," typically after an afternoon of TV football. Tad guessed he might be gay, but didn't discuss it with Billy. If the landlord began to demand more than cash rent, they would deal with it then.

This was expected to be a great year for Pitt. There had been two "building years" and several of the coaches had been hired the previous season. Fans expected a championship team. And Tad and Billy were expected to be an important part of that success.

By the time classes started, it was obvious to the team and the coaches that Tad and Billy were probably more than just friends. They arrived and left together; they lived together; Tad was Billy's tutor; their lockers were adjacent. But more than any of that was the incredibly fierce protectiveness that Billy exhibited toward Tad. Anyone who touched Tad--during a game or in practice--soon had Billy to contend with. Some assumed they were just really close bros; but others assumed more was going on. But, it was none of their business. And the "friendship" had created a backfield duo that stunned most of their competitors--they seemed to sense who had the best play opportunity--before anyone else realized. The Panthers won the first six games that season--including most of the toughest teams in their division. Tad had league-leading pass completions and Billy was near the top for running yardage. No one was going to risk questions that might ruin a winning combination.

*******

It was a Sunday afternoon--Pitt had crushed Wake Forest the previous day to maintain an unbeaten season. Tad and Billy were seated in Woody's (for Woodrow F. Peabody, the surgeon and their landlord) man-cave. Apparently the entire house was a man-cave. There was no evidence of any female influence in the place--although the sparsely furnished rooms were clean. The "manager" of the house was a young blonde Swedish guy (small, short, about 25 and very gregarious) with a degree in culinary arts and restaurant management. Woody apparently had money. And just as apparently, Tad concluded Woody was gay. So it seemed was "Britt." His duties in the "manor" probably included more than supervising the once a week cleaning crew and cooking dinners.

The Sunday game turned out to be a blow-out. So conversation was wider than normal. And by the fourth quarter, all four guys had had quite a few. Woody and Britt seemed to be really enjoying having two young good looking jocks in their midst. And they weren't bashful about stroking and hugging each other. Britt particularly had Billy's crotch in his direct line of sight, hoping perhaps that his ample bulge would edge out of the sweat shorts he wore, obviously without a jock. Maybe they were expecting more. Britt finally broke the ice. "You guys are gay, aren't you? My gaydar is hardly ever wrong. And you guys are pinging loudly."

Tad was stunned and silent. He had never discussed his sexual status with anyone--let alone a near stranger. Billy's eyes widened and darted to Tad. Britt had used the forbidden word. "I am not gay. I go with girls. All the time. I like girls. I'm a damn good fullback. I'm a Panther for Chrissakes. And, I'm not gay." He stood, stiffened his abs, and puffed out his chest. "Do I look like a gay to you? Do I? A guy is not gay just because he's hung." With the latter words, he grabbed his dick and wagged it threateningly at Britt.