He was the star basketball player in a sports-crazed small town and was like a god to the townsfolk. The girls and women swooned over him and the guys idolized him. He was good looking, too, and knew it. He had exotic, almost Latino features. Dark, almost black, hair, and brown smoldering eyes that seemed to beckon women to him.
Jeff Stearn was obsessed with Troy Aikman. He had long lusted after the 6'4, blond haired, blue eyed, built like a brickhouse Adonis of a quarterback of the Dallas Cowboys.
I'd often fantasize about my teammates, wondering what it would be like to suck their dicks or get fucked by them. Frequently I'd find that by fantasizing while I was on the field, I'd get just the extra boost of adrenaline I needed to complete the course in record time.
I couldn't help myself while Manuel spotted me on the bench press. I kept staring up his shorts, hoping to catch a glimpse of the ample bulge that was packed in there. Unfortunately, Manuel's snowy white jockey shorts covered his basket completely.
Tim dropped his own towel and began to stroke his cock, working it up into a full-blown boner. Fuck! These two guys had two of the biggest rods I'd blown in the two months I'd been on campus.
He stroked the gasping guy's giant rod, swirling his dark hand up and down the huge, pink hard-on, while he sucked and bit and tongue-slapped the clean-cut hood.
His body was immaculate; huge bulging arms, ripped chest, broad shoulders, the works. He had a sexy face too, partially hidden by long wet locks of hair that hung down over his eyes.
He just had a skimpy towel wrapped round his waist and it was made to look smaller by his massive, muscular body. He looked like he could have been a professional bodybuilder. His torso was a perfect mass of muscles and his legs were like two tree trunks.
He was about 6'3", very solid and well built, with an intelligent face, piercing blue eyes and a captivating smile. A T-shirt that said "Frank -Staff" had been asked to encase the incredible chest. It was doing its best.
The whole room was a mass of naked and semi-naked bodies now - all of them writhing and gyrating in a frenzy of sexual frustration and seemingly totally forgetful of the fact that just a few minutes before they were vying for a ball on a soccer pitch.
Pedro crouched a little, holding onto the railing for balance and peering through the ironwork. The nerd had removed his hand and Pedro could see a lump in the track suit. The nerd clicked onto a new page, the picture on the screen went white.
It was Denny who made the first move, and after pulling his friend to his feet by his dick, he kissed him softly on the mouth and whispered, Let's rub our heads together until we shoot, how does that sound!?
Delta five weren't in the best of moods after losing their football match to Sigma three as they walked back to the campus changing room amongst howls of anguish from their fans mixed in with cheers of joy from sigma 3's supporters.
The changing room is always hot and humid. Steam billows from the shower, guys drip pool water and condensation rises from their bodies. No sooner have I dried part of my body than I am sweating, drying myself again. It gives me a good excuse to sit on the low wooden bench and watch him.