Simeon Blue

Simeon? Simeon Blue? Man, I swore you fucking knew!

Smarter than a whip, thicker than a tree branch, he was built to be the strong jawline bully that terrorized his fellow classmates and blessed with the radiating charisma to lull the strictest authority around his black upper-crust neighborhood. Descendants of third-generation Jamaican immigrants, he shied away from his family’s Caribbean traditions to frame his kinked hair into a towering funnel atop his large, boxed head during his primary years.

He was never a looker. Slightly attractive, but never once mistaken for handsome. Simeon was a young man cursed with a middle-aged face sure to meet its prime by then. Just the same, older girls recognized potential talent and perched the ledge waiting for puberty to begin to run its course. Simeon was tall and built for his age, and the looming losers of failed manhood were sure to groom him to play football and pump his already inflated ego for the big leagues.

As the coaches licked their chops at his shaping, cheeky bottom and purposely laced their words with double entendres, it was his mom’s longtime boyfriend Big Ben who nabbed his cherry with his pretty curve at the tail end of 8th grade. Months later, Big Ben brought his homeboy with the heavy thumper over to the house for his sweet treat followed by other select members of their crew throughout the following weeks. By then, Simeon pinned his own legs back to let these virile hoodlums chuck their sturdy firewood into his piping hot stove.

Simeon accepted his humiliation. He was big for his age, but not quite big enough to do anything serious about it. To break free of their rough grips or to stop from being drenched in their sweat and must and other manly discharges. And he couldn’t tell without being ruined even more, especially by his faggot-hating father, who was sure to scold Poor Simeon for being a fucking punk if he failed to fight back just once. Simeon kept mum about the events, eventually braiding his hair and submitting to the rounding of robust hips in his sweltering teenage bedroom until they circled around looking to seed his hungering hole once more.

The developed, paper brown-colored boy was two years into high school when his football coaches corralled. Like they do every year, the year before, they tested the waters and sensed the weakness of all the players. Most, like all teenagers, were just trying to figure it all out. Some were on the spectrum from just horny to slightly curious to not-quite-openly gay, while others had a weird fascination, a kink, sometimes to men in charge and sometimes taking a shine to polished dress shoes or a shiny belt buckle.

From unwritten experience, the coaches skip a year, as high school freshmen can go either way: To snitch or not to snitch on the manliest of men getting fresh with them to the right listening ear. Often choosing the latter, with the occasional hiccup of the former that quickly gets swept under the rug. A good season gets the accuser exposed and labeled a liar while a slump can fetch a transfer for the coach and a payout split between the two for any inconveniences.

Boys higher up, upperclassmen, big enough to start throwing weight and stroking dick, tend to take ownership of their actions, even if they had no say so at all as to what happens. “The bigger the better” appears to be the trusted adage, creating the easiest of pickings among this group. A loser is a loser, one that will whine and drone on forever about being a loser, before becoming a professional loser and a complete loser cumdump. A winner parlays any newfound skill as future bargaining chips, and Dear Simeon rode on the fence.

Lesser coaches teased their bulges in his face whenever he needed to tie up his cleats, timing how long he kept his eyes from zeroing in on the prize. Simeon was an easy mark. Because of Big Ben, Simeon stayed on high alert. A runny stiffy behind a pair of slacks meant another raid on his bumhole very soon. Some of the coaches innocently gifted Simeon a knowing, prurient glance while others boldly struck fear in his soul with their brutal honesty, sharing intimate details of how they were going to someday have him like a bitch in heat on their way to trashing their ball juices up through his guts. But it was the seasoned Assistant Head Coach Friedman that gingerly circled his desk commando-style and meticulously splayed his package in front of the young man. Toying with the young player, warming him up with his words of praise and firm-handed guidance culminating in pooled saliva in the rascal’s lower mouth over the prominent tip and the endless possibilities that come with it. 

Within a week, Simeon was blindly staring at the covered crotch presented. His mouth watering, lapping his creases in anticipating, only to be broken out of his hypnotic state by a calm, nonchalant baritonal word of the mature, strapping, mustached, golden-brown stud. A week thereafter, Coach Friedman finally undid his zipper, and a girthy, veiny uncut shaft sprang forth. Simeon was no stranger to having a dick shoved down his throat. Usually, it was to cut off his windpipe from his annoying snivels as another burrowed into his bowels versus helping a man arrive at a happy ending. This was a first, however. The goal was clear: fellate. Simeon wanted it; therefore, Simeon got it, understanding that his mouth wasn’t meant just for utility, but to serve and gift a man like Coach unbridle bliss. Mesmerized by coach’s salty-sweat zest, the teenager sealed his mouth on it and gulped every dollop of warm syrup it had to offer. And much like Big Ben, after Coach Friedman had him trained properly, other coaches and top players were brought into the fold.

When his throat skills were exceptional, Simeon got more time on the field, in front of the chanting crowd and scouts to be remembered. When he was just winging it, often tired from overuse of his instruments, he was forced on the sidelines with his helmet waiting for another Friday night to roll around to shine.

Simeon tried to strike balance in the offseason. He tried to make other boys his bitch like he was made to be for the men that lingered around the stadium. But the pull he had throughout prior grades failed to keep him in those ranks. Many of his old victims were now worthy adversaries, cornering him in the locker room bathroom to attack the famed throat popular friends let them know about while his former henchmen spent in his hole like many other guys before them.

During the summer leading into junior year, Simeon signed up for football camp. There, mornings were filled with field practices followed by weight room in the afternoon. The latter was where the boys got riled up and escaped to the dorms to see which boys was going to catch the most loads from trainers and fellow players alike that day. Simeon got to use his dick more than he was used to here, seeing there were a bevy of pretty boys with perfect bodies everybody was itching for a shot at, and Dear Simeon didn’t enter the ranks among the Adonises.

Simeon was balls deep in some sextuplet-fucked ass, spending his load, when another play who just couldn’t wait for him to climb off, snatched a helping of Simeon’s butthole with no protest.

Simeon’s ball sack was dripping with six successional loads when he felt the weight of a linebacker enter him as two more loads sprayed each of Simeon’s cheeky butt cheeks respectively as his top finished him off with a whisked creampie.

Simeon wasn’t without dick during the remainder of his time at football camp. It was however the only time he was fucked in random succession by seven men like that. A feeling he couldn’t let go of, regardless of his many efforts to recreate such a magnificently hot scene among his peers.

***

On hands and knees, Simeon crawled over to Lil Benny centered on the couch with his baggy jeans skirted around his latest pair of designer sneakers. Like they do just about every afternoon around this time, before anyone else came back in, the two snuck down to the decked-out basement under the guise of playing video games, when it was clear only one of them were interested in manhandling the joystick.

Eight months Simeon junior, and three grades behind due to his long stretches in juvie, Lil Benny, a slim, dark-skinned dread head street goon, was one of the many offspring of Big Ben that rotated periodically in staying with Simeon and his mom. The old man himself put Simeon down a couple of years back, after Simeon came home from football camp. Big Ben claimed his woman’s boy had been so thoroughly fucked within that short window he could look through the young player’s butthole and see the light of day out on the other end of his mouth.

“These young bucks have no respect these days.” Big Ben snarled nearly losing his Folex in the abyss, remembering fondly when this huge gape was ultra-tight and unspoiled, barely able to take a pinky tip just three short years prior.

It was one thing when Big Ben and his bruisers were leading the charge along with the coaches at that school, mindful enough to leave some for anyone else sure to come along behind them. It was another when the third army of zero-fuck fuckboys stormed through and sought to destroy such a promising hole for the ages.

Junior and the rest of the cats around the way could care less. Snug was overrated, and a cumdump of a jock variety still served its purpose. Lil Benny had developed a soft spot for throwaways from personal experience. During one of his earlier stints in juvie, he caught a case of Stockholm’s Syndrome for one of the older boys that turned him out. The dude claimed Lil Benny as personal property and treated him with great care after that. A month and a half down the line, Lil Benny was left out in the cold after his suitor went on to rally a harem without him.

Simeon dotted his full lips against the undershaft of the long black snake belonging to Lil Benny before retracing his trail with a long succulent lick. Simeon repeated the act several times over waiting for the weighted wads of spit to rain down on his hard jawed face. After this, Lil Benny always slapped his fat dick across the flat of his cocksucker’s tongue, giving Simeon the go ahead to choke on his big black bar.

“Damn, yo, you’re such a fuck-nasty bitch, aren’t ya?” Lil Benny complimented the deep throat master. Simeon instinctively pulled off Lil Benny so he could drench his face with some more saliva.

Heavy footsteps came barreling down the stairwell soon after. Although Big Ben didn’t frequently play with the slutty jock anymore, he wasn’t above strolling down Memory Lane, if he got off work early. Instead, it was the big, penny-colored man named Stooge, Lil Benny’s play cousin. 

“I see you got our boy easy greasy.” Stooge circled around to Simeon, looking at the transparent slob covering his mug, looking like a strong jawed glazed donut.

Where Simeon was big and lean, Stooge was big and beefy, heavy chested with a slight gut, rivaling construction workers twice his twenty-two years. Stooge didn’t have the biggest pork sausage link in town, but by the way he used it—better than most men that did—nobody could tell him any differently, as the husky brute dropped his shorts and his drawers for the eighteen-year-old high school graduate to partake.

Our boy went to town going back and forth, salivating and coating both sets of meat and potatoes thoroughly before the crook of his neck met the seat of the couch with each young man riding his throat and forced Simeon to thank them for the courtesy by polishing them off with an unselfish teabag session.

Lil Benny and Stooge was teeming with creamy salty precum after so many plunges down Simeon’s gullet. If Simeon was alone with either one of them, he could freely finish them off with his throat without protest. As with most randy young men, in the name of competitiveness, that wasn’t going to be enough.

“Tighten up, bitch!” Stooge commanded after a couple of strokes riding that cheeky-cheek ass.

Stooge instructed him well a couple of years back how to milk dick rather than just be a wide open fuckhole. He also instructed him how to do this while Simeon pleased a dick in his mouth.

“Watch ‘em chompers!” Lil Benny pulled out, slapping his cocksucker across the face before arrowing his wet Big Ben back into Simeon’s greedy maw.

Stooge could fuck Simeon five or fifty minutes and without fail tap into his inner bitch.

“Nut in that shit!” Simeon begged as time melded into one big blob.

“Sounds like I got that stupid pussy fired up!”

“Shit, Daddy! Yes…yes!”

A few power strokes later, Simeon was bred and petering ejaculate out of his back garden. And after Stooge was done, he boomeranged around to Simeon’s mouth to get cleaned up while the seventeen-year-old plugged his dick into the sloppy seconds and bust within a few short minutes thanks to the thick, ball-churned lube of the elder in the room.

Lil Benny was going to be tapped out for a minute, but Stooge was going in for a second helping as Simeon polished Lil Benny off with his mouth.

Lil Benny was riding the couch when Simeon was next to him kneeing it with Stooge fucking his ass doggy-style and occasionally slapping it to get it back in order.

“Daddy please!” Simeon begged; his prostate thoroughly whacked, and his senses driven into mania. “Please, Stooge…Daddy!”

Lil Benny looked over at the clock on the wall and gave his play cousin a smiling nod. It was 4 o’clock, meaning that no one was on their way in anytime soon, and their favorite bitch boy could be as loud as he wanted to down there without raising concerns from his mother.

“You’re getting my spot, Daddy!” Simeon cried with tears of joy streaming down his cheeks whipped in this euphoria with slaps across his rear that briefly brought him back to his awareness. “Fuck! Daddy, you’re getting it! Damn!”

The clapping of skin deafened the room while the tension and passion choked it. All the while Stooge rode that ass even harder, branding his name on that asshole.

“I’m gonna breed ya, slut. Ya gonna be my fuckin’ bitch from now ‘til the end of time. You’ll be riding this dick at your bachelorette party through ‘til you’re old and gray with grandkids. Tell Stooge what baby girl wants, baby!” Stooge chuckled at his willful misgendering.

Simeon was taken to whole new heights; Stooge’s crotch slapped his ass, entangling sweat-drenched ball hairs that sometimes snatched from its delicate roots.

“Fuck, Daddy, fuck! Bust! Drop them babies off!”

Simeon groaned as Stooge increased his pace.

“Oh fuck! Fuck!” Stooge clattered wildly, spraying Simeon’s hole in this fiery explosion of blinding white heat and radiating energy.

Stooge didn’t pull out right away. He was empty, spent, but found the will to give a few more earnest pumps in his cumdump to leave the most insatiable satisfied. When he popped out, he popped out, also pulling out three sets of bitter deposits to run down two sets of powerful thighs.

After 8pm, after dinner, Simeon treated both boys to another round of sloppy toppy down in the basement. Too tired, too drained to shoot again, Lil Benny and Stooge merely got brick hard and their dicks wet before retiring to bed, only to finish the job the next morning they started the night before.

***

Snatching up his pants, Simeon counted thirteen young men lined up to get to the lone bare bottom legging the back of the communal lounge couch on his way out the door for old time’s sake.

When he first arrived at college freshman year, it was the undisclosed duty that new players got senior players off. Coupled that with Simeon pledging his fraternity the following year, he got his mouth filled and his ass pounded nonstop. And though his body count in the house far exceeded his days back at football camp, it was never quite the same hot experience he yearned for.

Sadly, after winter break junior year, it was no longer acceptable for him to bottom for random peers and frat brothers. His ass was exclusively reserved for coaches and alum alike that were often driven by power trips than by randy down low men looking to blow some steam. For his talents, he chose the winner’s circle, choosing to parlay their generous support into one of the greatest bargaining chips of his life!

Without much effort, Simeon got drafted right out of college to be a third-string bench rider on a professional team. This meant he got to play occasionally while collecting a mid-six figure salary that lasted six years before he was ultimately cut. In season and off, he got invited to team sponsored events and private parties hosted by other players and their admirers. Of course, with money and fame, there were always beautiful girls and gorgeous guys for these men to partake in. However, not everyone in attendance were first string, and riled powerful men looking for a spin to spend their load can lead to a lot of wonderful places and marvelous opportunities that can stretch beyond the wildest imagination. And, as he and his fellow tops get older, reminiscing about the good old days, Simeon has come to appreciate the perks in his assistant coaching position at the HBCU nearly fifteen years past his heyday. Sometimes he gets to use his dick on the new talent, and sometimes new talent get to use their dick on their well-seasoned coach!