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It's a great and warm invitation

I love seeing pov vids of the top walking into the roon from down the hall or outside, opening thw door and finding the bottom ass up. Any good places to find that kind of content? It's so hot but hard to come by

Sounds good. HMU with what days/times work for you.

I sucked a guy off from church multiple times and he has split my asshole in two many times. Knowing him, he has probably told a few others at church. He likes to brag and I like his cock in both holes. 🤪 He has definitely made me squeal like a pig a few times and he will again.

Kirk and TPUSA was an organization based on conservative values as a response to the liberal culture on college campuses. He actually invited dialogue between people, generally in the form of debate. In any of the hundreds of video clips that are posted, he may have been vigorous in his debate performance, but I never saw him as being hateful, racist, or rude to people in those interactions. But he would argue the logical points behind some of the more outlandish positions. He was a very effective communicator and solid debater. I agree that without the toxic system that is out there now, there might not be the cult of personality around Kirk. Did he deserve to be killed for his views? No one deserves to be killed for civil discourse. Being more right-wing, I have seen some pretty wacky people on the opposing team. I enjoy hearing other points of view, because by challenging my own views it validates those views or disproves them based on logical arguments.

Thank you. I am thinking back what he said about flip fucking with a guy in a single session. He is absolutely right that is really rare especially the energy we both had of him fucking me and me fucking him basically immediately after. I can probably count one hand how much that's happened in the past 2-3 months. But yeah he was extremely hot and I hope to see him again.

Gotcha. It was kind of confusing, but I'll own that as I've been a bit loopy with some low blood pressure and balance issues lately. Whoops! Thanks for explaining! 😀

Interesting points. I can understand some of them from your perspective, but in saying that, I'll respectfully disagree on many. I think you'd expect that. You're cherry picking. ATF, FBI, other federal law enforcement has been deployed to Washington. The National Guard cannot do law enforcement, but they can be a sort of neighborhood watch and advise the other patrolling agencies. The immediate impact on crime has been a reduction, which is what DC residents have stated they liked. I don't disagree with you on this point, but...wouldn't the individual states do better with deciding how to administer that money since they can direct that funding at a local level? I'm more a believer that there can be some type of minimal Federal standard and then leave it to the individual states to apply additional standards as needed, or change the formulas on a state level to apply the newly received funding that has been decentralized to address their own deficiencies - special education, disabilities, behavioral challenges, using it as a lever to fund underfunded programs in inner cities. I'm not a big believer that we need layers and layers of bureaucrats in DC that are far removed from communities to do that. The current funding equations don't always make sense. You live in affluent area, the schools are generally better funded (not always). Urban area? They suck. Money in the hands of the states can directly address based on voters. Keep in mind that tax equations don't always result in better outcomes. We'll agree to disagree there. Just as we likely disagree on MAGA, or Jimmy Kimmel, the double-standard applied on censorship when it applies to Republicans (Dems seem to think that's fine, see the stories on Google today, the admissions by Zuckerberg on Facebook, the list goes on) versus Democrats (see the outrage applied to Jimmy Kimmel versus Rosanne Barr, both suspended by the same network). Sorry mate. Palin was...how shall we say this...not terribly bright. Just like Harris who isn't a god communicator unless she memorized her lines, just as she did making the book tour rounds the last couple days (MSNBC, GMA, The View). I'll assume you watched Maddow last night? I'm not disputing that Trump tends to ramble on about similar points, but after he's made a statement there's not much confusion about it, right, wrong, or indifferent. Again, we'll politely agree to disagree. Re: Racism. So how do we explain the rise of anti-Semitism? I see a definite rise in that, but it's perfectly fine to be pro-Palestinian, which is absurd if you're part of the LGB community...unless you like being thrown off roofs. I've watched Harris. I do watch a variety of news sources, not simply sitting in front of Fox or Newsmax, but I often can't say that for my friends on the left where sources like The NY Times have repeatedly tossed fact checking aside and bury their corrections the next day on page 26. We've lost a lot when the fairness doctrine was repealed. It'd be a real refreshing change to see the media forced to eschew opinion-based programming and focus on reporting "news". Like CNN used to do. As for deportations, I'll agree that the net has been very wide and not always 100% precise, but let's talk about the activism of judges who are more intent to legislate from the bench as seen through the lens of people like "Maryland Man". As a liberal, let me ask this: Is this the hill that progressives are intent to die on? Do liberals really want to keep criminals in this country when they've entered illegally and committed crimes here? And is the best answer to provide that we need to go back to the Democrats of 1861 who demanded to keep slavery ("Who'll pick our cotton?") to justify illegal immigrants to stay in our country despite their illegal entry ("Who'll pick our vegetables?")? There is a way to get migrant workers. It's through a specific visa for the purpose. And they should be paid something more than slave wages. The 1861 ethic needs to change, or Americans need to take on that work. We need to not pay Americans for sitting around without some obligations (or illegal aliens, for that matter). First, don't know why it was attributing me versus @hntnhole. But I disagree that he was capable of governing. Several sources from people who worked in the West Wing cited Biden to be out of it. Or taking a nap. On the debate prep, he was clearly tired and in cognitive decline, so several times he was reported to go off and take a nap. You're setting a very low standard on what Biden was doing. Hell, he fell UP stairs and by the time he'd gotten to the debate, it was clear to anyone with a functioning brain cell that he was unable to even act as President. We still don't know who was actually running the autopen. And I'm assuming that you watched either MSNBC or CNN commentary on the UN speech, which I found self-serving. As to the points that he made on the state of the UN, I'm afraid I need to agree that the entire UN is feckless. Which is also a term I apply to congress and the senate. I feel sorry for people who feel somehow tied to the party, only because you think that they're going to respect you, your vote, or what the public wants. Let's be honest. They don't care and haven't for decades, and they're simply changing their positions because...well, it's Trump. Not surprisingly, the same positions they took just a few years ago or even as recently as the Biden administration are the ones they're trying to rewrite now. The problem is the Internet: It's forever. Seriously, let's look at Jasmine Crockett. She's not from the 'hood and was educated at some of the most expensive schools in the US and lived in a very privileged area in suburban St. Louis, not the 30th Texas district in south Dallas. I pity that you didn't get an option to choose. That choice was preordained for you like that would be absolutely fine to people and you shouldn't care who it is. Humphrey wasn't on the ticket in '68 before he was put onto it. And as for money, they had $1.4 billion of it, so where was that spent? Celebrity appearances!? How much was Beyonce paid to shill for an appearance for Harris? Oprah? It doesn't seem to me that it made any difference in the outcomes, did it? Ok, I grant that you were enthusiastic about Harris, but after the debate, you have to admit the bar was lowered quite far. But we can't change the past, and hopefully for your party, you can come to terms with why you lost before '28. Instead, it seems like they haven't quite reconciled the reasons for losing, or where that 80% of the voting public that sits in the middle of those fringes that vote in primaries. For their sake, please don't double-down on open borders, free housing/healthcare/SNAP/Cell phones for illegal immigrants, trans-rights, men in women's locker rooms, and trans women/biological men competing in women's sports. That didn't help with middle America. "We're not Trump" won't work next time. Glad we can banter productively on here.

Coach Sanders 2 I must’ve blacked out because when I came to, Coach wasn’t in the room. I was wrecked. And goddamn, I felt it. Should’ve panicked. Should’ve curled up and lost it. But I didn’t. I smiled. Remembered I came to him. My hand slid down to my hole. Butt plug was still in me. Fuck, it felt good to be plugged up. Meant Coach’s load was still in me. Suddenly, I heard him at the door. “You’re back. How you feeling?” he smiled, giving me the once over. He stepped in, leaned against the frame. Eyes stayed on me. Could tell he liked what he saw. I just lay there. Played with my hole. Waited for whatever came next. He stood there, looked at me like that. So I said it. Straight out told him. Wanted to be poz. Wanted him to know I still meant it. Made sure he knew it wasn’t just the Tina talking. Yeah, I’d figured it out. He’d booty bumped me. And I liked how it made me feel. But told him I felt like crap. Coach didn’t say a word at first. Just stood there, listening. “Comes with the territory,” he said, handing me a glass of OJ, and sat down. “First time can knock you sideways.” He played with my hole while I drank. Then pulled out the plug. I moaned. Felt empty. I stretched out, opened up for him. He saw it. Grinned. “Hungry hole on you, huh?” I didn’t need to answer. He knew. His hand moved down, spread my hole. Checked to see if I was leaking. He chuckled, flexed his fingers. Told me I’d taken it all in. Then he opened the drawer. Pulled out a glass pipe, held it up between us. “This’ll help,” he growled. “I’ve got more loads. You’ll take’em all.” “Fuck yeah, Coach,” I moaned, watching the pipe catch the light. “Please.” “You ever smoked one of these?” he asked, brushing the bowl with his thumb. I shook my head. He smiled. “Watch close.” Then he lit it, drew in. Held it. Let the white smoke drift out. He passed it to me, the stem still warm from it. From the smoke. From his lips. I took it, fingers brushed his. Coach leaned in. Told me to take a hit. Hold it. Let it sit. I did. He gave the nod. I let it go. Cloud spread between us. He gave another nod. Kind that said I wasn’t done yet. “You want more, boy,” Coach said, telling me my truth. “Don’t pretend you don’t. Deeper this time.” Said he wanted me to feel it. I lifted the pipe again. He lit it. I breathed in the way he’d shown me. It burned sharper now but didn’t hold back. Wanted to show him I could take it. Wanted to feel it settle the way he said it would. He put his hand on my shoulder. Squeeze told me I was doing it right. He watched me hold the cloud. Testing how far I’d go. My lungs were full, pecs tight. He liked that. The look said it all. I was getting the feel for the pipe. Tina was kicking in. All I could think of was getting another load. I blew out. He leaned in, slow. Rubbed the warm bowl on my bulge. “You’re learning fast,” he said, watching me get hard. “Gotta another load ready for you, boy.” His mouth brushed mine. Soft at first, then deeper. Our tongues met, rough and hungry. But his took control. Slipped past my lips. Taste of the cloud still on his tongue, sharp and thick. His hard cock rubbed my abs. I looked down. Saw it pulsing. Tattoo was right there. Clear as day. “Goddamn,” he grunted. “You got me so hard. No hiding it now.” “Naw,” I groaned. “Don’t need to. Ever. Fucking breed me.” “Sit on it,” he barked, holding up a bottle of poppers. “Ride it.” I grabbed it. Took a couple of hits. Spread my cheeks and went down. Felt him splitting me open. Shit, it felt like home. Where I belonged. Tina was making my hole twitch, wanted cock. It was all the way in. The look on his face told me it felt good wrapped around his cock. I leaned in. Kissed him. Felt his cock grow even more. I broke the kiss. Started fucking myself. Pushed Up. Down. Did squats. Coach grabbed my pecs. Fingers twisted, pulled at my nips. I moaned. Felt the pain connected with my hole. He saw my reaction, smiled. I whimpered. Kept up the fucking. Tightened my hole, slid on his shaft. He was getting close. I could see it. Could feel it. He grabbed the sheet with his fists. “Feel that?” he growled. “You’re not leaving ‘til you’re pozzed. Ya hear me, boy?” “Shit yeah!” I moaned. “Don’t wanna, Coach.” “Fucking beautiful musclejock. Show me. Lats wide, pecs steady,” he growled. “Show me everything” I flared my lats, wide and clean. He lifted his hands, grabbed my pecs. Pulled on my nips. I groaned. Held the pose. Breath tight. Muscles stretched. His palms skimmed down my ribs. Fingers traced the flare, slow and firm. Mapped every inch. He looked at me, started fucking. My hole was on fire from the clouds. From his fuck. From my nips. I grabbed them. Pinched them with my fingernails. Fuck! “Fucking gotta work on those,” he grunted, pushing me on my back. “Your pecs’ll pop even harder with a big set of nips. “Work’em!” I moaned, tightening my grip on them. Fucking surge went through me. Down to my hole. “Fuck, I’m close,” he panted, sweat dripping, soaking the sheet. “You gonna be ready for Coach’s cock, boy? Anytime I want it?” “Fuck, Coach,” I told him, “Anytime.” Coach roared, shooting deep inside me. I couldn’t take it anymore. Hole tightened on his shaft. My cock exploded. Soaked my crusted pouch with another load. He was on top of me, panting. Pulled out. My hole dripped. Gaped. He grabbed a bigger plug. I nodded. Had to make sure it took he said. It stretched me out even more. Locked in the load. He sat back, smiled. “Clean,” he ordered, waving his cock at me. “You do it after every load. Got that?” I crawled to him. “Yeah, Coach,” I answered, seeing my juices dripping off it. Went down on him. Lips, tongue around his cock. Deep and messy. I grunted. Tasted it. “Goddamn jockpig,” he smiled. “Fucking taste your hole.” We kept going. Didn’t leave his place. Coach kept me high. Kept me full of loads. At some point it happened. Don’t remember when. Don’t even know how many days I’d been there. Coach said he was taking me to the gym. Not the one he gave me the membership for, but another. Already arranged it. I couldn’t say no, not that I would’ve. He handed me a pair of old sneakers. Told me I didn’t need anything else. The smell hit hard. I sniffed it, deep. Sweat, musk, something else hit me. I checked the size. Size 11. Same as mine. Figured it belonged to one of his other boys. Yeah, by then knew I wasn’t the only one. Not that it would’ve mattered. "Come on, boy," Coach said, grinning, looking me over. I had the look now. Strapped up, hole ready for more. “Next phase starts now.” He didn’t wait. Grabbed the keys. Headed for the garage. I followed. Jockstrap clung to me, sweat cooling, muscles tight. He opened the car door, waited. I climbed in. Skin bare to the seat. The leather stuck to me. Warm. Slick. Coach got in without a word. Just started the car. We didn’t talk on the drive. His hand played with my plug. Windows were tinted. No one could see. But felt exposed anyway like he wanted me that way. We pulled up to a brick building with no sign out front. No windows. Just a steel door and a keypad. Coach punched in the code. Didn’t look at me. Just said, “My DNA is taking over. You know that, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Just walked in, expected me to follow. I did. Inside, it was dark. Not pitch black but dim. The air was thick, warm. Smelled like iron. Sweat. The floor was concrete. Scuffed and stained. Walls bare except for hooks and straps. Just racks, bars, chains, and a couple beat up benches. Everything stripped down to basics. He told me to hit a set. Get pumped. I was already shredded. Dehydrated. Been with him long enough it showed. Skin tight over muscle, everything cut and sharp. I knew what the pump would do. Fill me out. Make every line pop. Every vein rise. I’d look unreal. I stepped up, grabbed the bar. Felt the cold steel press into my palms. My body was ready, still wired. I gave him everything. Didn’t hold back. Every rep I gave clean, every breath sharp. Muscles flared, veins high, like my skin couldn’t hold it all. Wanted him to see it. How far I’d go for him. No hesitation. No limit. If he asked for more, I’d give it. If he pushed, I’d take every bit. I wanted him to know I was his. Suddenly, the door opened on the other side of the room. Coach was beside me by the time it swung wide. I turned. Saw the smile on his face. Big. Proud. He stepped forward, raised his voice. “Guys, gather round,” he called out. They came in quick. Young jocks first, bodies pumped. All strapped. Some my age, some pushing 30. Then others came in. Not like the young ones. These had muscle settled in. Mid-thirties, forties maybe. Then came the older ones. Thick pecs, heavy arms, backs wide. Built like Coach. These guys looked me over without saying much, didn’t need to prove anything. Already had. These two wore gym clothes or just a jockstrap. A few were naked, stood easy. Coach squeezed my shoulder. “This is Ben. My new boy. Been loading him up since Friday.” A couple nodded. One of the older guys let out a low whistle. I stood there. Pecs out. Body pumped. Jock full. Heat in the room was thicker now. Eyes were on me. Could feel it. Coach stood next to me. In control. I stayed there. Didn’t hide anything. Didn’t want to. I’d done enough of that. One of the younger ones came up. He had size. Shoulders thick, arms pumped, pecs solid. Trained hard, no doubt. Skin smooth, hairless, like he’d shaved that morning. He clocked me fast. Eyes narrowed. Saw the difference. Saw I was bigger, fuller, sharper. But didn’t blink. Held onto his one edge. I still had hair. Was natural. He circled slow. Eyes dragging across my pecs. My arms, my legs, my ass. His jaw tightened. Not angry. Just trying to hide the envy. Saw it anyway. “So, you’re the new one,” he said, voice tense. “Coach said he was playing the long game. Waiting for the one.” I didn’t answer. Just held his stare. Let him take it in. My body spoke for itself. He reached out, fingers brushed my bicep. Not rough, not soft, just enough to feel the size. “Damn,” he muttered, admitting it. “He really built you right.” Coach watched from the side. Arms crossed. Said nothing. Let it play out. I saw the shift in the boy’s eyes now. Less challenge, more want. Wasn’t just sizing me up anymore. I held his stare, steady and open. Body still warm from the set. Skin flushed. Pecs rising slow. He was close now. Hands on my shoulders. I didn’t pull away. Leaned in just enough to let him know I felt it too. My hands moved to his waist. Pressed my fingers into the cut lines of his hips. “Not bad yourself,” I offered up, letting my touch say more. “Poz, yeah?” He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at me. Eyes steady. Lips parted. He moved closer. Nodded. “Why else would I be here,” he smirked. Coach stepped forward, eyes on both of us. Didn’t speak right away. Just looked. Took in the shift between us. His hand cupped my ass. “Greg’s one of mine. My last one. Graduated just before your freshman year. Gonna breed you. Pass the torch. Pass on my DNA.” You could see it in his face. Coach was proud of this one. Didn’t need to say it. The way he watched us said enough. Watched us feel each other like we couldn’t help it. We were both his work. We stood there together. Built right. Built to be seen. Built to be wanted. And we knew it. Guys were watching. Didn’t care they were. We kept touching. Let our hands explore. We were showing off. You could feel the tension rising. Guys were getting worked up. Waited to see what we’d do. “Good,” Coach said, stepping back. “Get to it, boys.” Greg leaned in. His mouth brushed mine. I kissed him back. Let it build. His hand gripped my pecs. Mine stayed on his waist. Both breathing harder now. Bodies close. Cocks getting harder. He tasted like sweat, salt. Mixed with clouds. His bulge pressed into mine. I pulled him tighter. Felt the way he fit against me. His hand moved to my hole. Felt the plug. Greg broke the kiss. Lips parted. Eyes dark, dilated. “How many you take?” he asked, pulling at it. “Got a 4-day load waiting for you.” I didn’t answer. Was a blur. I’d lost count. Just kissed him again. Slower this time. His hand gripped the plug. Pulled it out. I moaned. Kissed him deeper. “Fucker,” he growled, finger sliding in my hole. Not fast. Not soft. “Your hole was made for it.” He didn’t rush. Just let me feel him. I groaned. Begged him to breed me. He stepped back, nodding. Stood there. Showed me what he had to offer. Thighs solid, hips locked, cock stretched the pouch. “I was Coach’s last. Means I’m the one who breeds you next,” he grunted, dropping his jockstrap. “That’s how it works.” He grabbed me. Led me to one of the benches. Set me where he wanted me. On my back. On the edge. Legs spread. Hole ready. He stepped up. Cock hard, leaking toxic precum. There it was. Biohazard tattoo on top of the shaft. Didn’t have to hide it. No need. Was what he was bred for. That’s when Coach stepped in. Grabbed my wrist. Tied it to the stand. I didn’t know what was happening. Didn’t really care. Was gonna get Greg’s load. Coach did the other. Straps were snug, not tight. Just enough to hold me there. Greg stayed close, watched. Breathing slow. His hand slid up my thighs. Fingers circled the edge of my hole. Coach didn’t speak. Just wrapped a strap around my bicep. “Best part comes next,” Greg told me, almost growling. “Coach told me he’d do it tonight.” I figured it would happen at some point. Wasn’t stupid. Been high for days now. Just nodded, “Fucking do it. I want it.” I felt the prick. Held my breath. Saw the barrel fill up with blood. “Here it goes,” Coach grunted, pushing in the slam. It hit me, fast. Chest locked up. Heart kicked up fast, pounded in my chest. Throat went raw, scratchy. Everything got hazy. Thoughts scattered. But it felt good. Way too good. Was fully in it, no second thoughts. It had me. “Oh fuck,” I kept saying. Couldn’t stop myself. Just kept coming out. I tugged at the straps, not trying to get loose. Just needing something to hold onto. Greg rammed into me. Making sure to go deep. “You’re gone,” he laughed, holding his leaking cock. “Completely gone.” “Yeah, fucking give it to me. More,” I begged, not thinking about anything else but the load in his balls. He stepped up. The Tina had me open. Felt his cock at my hole. He grabbed at my pouch. Shoved it in. I lost it. Knew Coach wanted this. Planned it. Greg’s hands moved up my abs. Grabbed my nips. Tugged and pinched. My moans grew louder. He was completely in. Felt his cock press on my prostate. My cock jumped. “Aw fuck!” I whimpered. Then the breeding started. His cock pulled out. Deep growl came out of him. He punched back in. Hard. Fucked me like an animal. Made sure his cock landed solid. Like he wanted me to feel it for days. To never forget it. I bucked forward, breath caught. Cock hit me every time. Made me leak. Soaked my pouch. Coach scooped it up. Put his slimed finger to my lips. “Let him take you there,” Coach grunted, feeding it to me. My eyes rolled back. Tongue out. Accepted where I was going. I’d just be a hole now. Hole for any poz cock Coach chose. I gripped the cock. Greg’s thrusts slowed. Stretched out. “Fucking tight, bro,” he moaned. He kept it up. Pounded me. He was getting close. Started growling. Told him to give it to me. Felt him stiffen and pulse. Shake. “Goddamn fuck. Can’t hold back,” he grunted, spewing his poz load in me. I wrapped my legs around him. Held him tight. Wanted every drop. His was the only the second cock to do it. Knew it wouldn’t be the last tonight. Coach stood there, watched. Cock at attention. The guys went crazy. Greg pulled out. Went to Coach, dropped. Took the scorpion in his mouth. “So I know those of you who don’t have my DNA want to experience my new musclejock. But tonight, this hole’s only for those who have it. No one else until it’s done,” Coach announced, stroking Greg’s face. There, Coach made it public. I was his. Muscle built for his DNA. To take it. Incubate it. And after what just happened, I knew I’d pass it on. Just like Greg. Just like some of the others lining up. There had to be. Again, not stupid. A round of groans and cheers filled the room. Then Coach grabbed Greg. Shoved him down. Started ramming his cock down Greg’s hole. Greg just stayed there. Didn’t have a problem taking it. Been taking it for years. I got jealous. Wanted the load. Begged Coach for it. He just kept it up. Gripped Greg harder. Fucking slowed but grew more intense. I knew what was coming. A poz load. For him. Not me. I begged harder. “Don’t worry, boy,” Coach grunted. “I’ll be fucking that hole of yours. This here’s a reward for this one. He’s been waiting a long time.” Greg just looked at me. Cock greased from my fuck. Eyes steady the whole time. Showed me he still mattered to Coach. Then Coach pulled out. Scorpion showing. Its tail ready to strike. “Fucking did good, boy!” Coach yelled, shoving it back in. “Here it is!” The guys went wild. Hollered. Clapped. Some had already started with each other. They were fucking, sucking. Couldn’t help it. Others begged for a chance with me. “I know, I know,” he laughed, eyes scanning the crowd. “But give it time. When it’s official, he’ll be back, begging for any poz cock. Until then, Greg’s here. Use him. Play amongst yourselves.” Then another guy walked up. Older. Shorts and a tight polo. Not as old as Coach. More like 40s. Coach didn’t wait. Pushed Greg to the side. Went to new guy. They kissed, hard. Coach’s hand gripped the back of his neck, held him there. Rough. It was possession. Coach owned him. Made sure I saw it. Greg watched, jaw tight, eyes low. He knew what it meant. Then he got up. Anger in his eyes. Closed the space between us. “Not done with you yet, fucker. Face up,” Greg growled, refusing to be left out. I did what he said. Slimed cock now at my lips. “Take it.” He gobbed a wad on it. I opened up. Took it in. Started cleaning. Tasted my hole like Coach taught me. Coach ignored him. Didn't want to deal with it. Just kept on kissing. Coach finally broke it. Kept his hand on new guy. “Pete,” Coach said. Just said it like he was stating a fact. “My first. He coaches at a top prep school on the East Coast.” Coach looked at me, letting it land. His pride sat heavy. Letting me know I was part of something bigger. Pete moved between my thighs. Looked at me, eyes steady, mouth still wet. Coach’s hand stayed on his neck, fingers curled. Pete shifted, just enough to show he was ready. Waited for the signal. Coach gave it. “Fucking sloppy hole,” Pete growled, fingering it. Wiped up part of the dripping load. Tasted it. “Shit yeah.” He spread me open. Wanted to see how much I could take. Then gave me a wicked smile, “He wanted me here for a reason. You’ll see why.” Pete unzipped his shorts. Didn’t bother to drop them. His cock was fucking huge! Solid, surrounded by pubes. Wide Jacob’s ladder ran down under the shaft. Tatted. Scorpion holding biohazard in its claws on top. He hadn’t been a boy in a long time. Was one of Coach’s studs now. I lifted my hips, Greg still in my mouth. Coach nodded, slow. Like I’d passed another test. I wanted it. Wanted to feel it shred my hole. Pete rammed into me. Didn’t bother to warn me. Pain made me scream. Loud. Coach watched, eyes sharp, jaw set. He was letting it all happen. But it was still his scene. His rules. “Fucking breed me,” I yelled out between the hurt. Then went back to Greg. Sucked him. Tried to take my mind off the pain. But it didn’t last. The slam had completely taken over. Made my hole ache in a good way. Let Pete know it was good. “FUCK!” Pete grunted, jabbing the ladder in. “Fucking better than any of the others.” Greg heard that. Flinched. Then grabbed my head. Shoved in, hard. It was personal now. I felt it. Piss spewed out, filled my mouth. I could taste it. Salty. Sharp. It lit something in me. Hot. Raw. Fuck it tasted good! Should’ve spit it out but didn’t. Swallowed. I was into it. Greg saw. His face shifted. No more anger. Something else. Like respect. He saw it now. Knew I deserved my spot in all this. He bent down, kissed me. We swapped piss. Then he gave me more. Pete watched. Impressed. Rammed my hole, harder. It dripped. Blood-tinged cum ran out on the concrete floor. Sametime, piss out my mouth. I begged for more. To fuck me harder. Give another load. More of Coach’s DNA. More piss. “Gonna fuck the shit out of ya, boy,” Pete growled, sweat pouring off him. The guys were into it. “Fucking musclejock! Take it! I want that hole!” they shouted. Filled the room with it. Pete kept at it. Rammed his cock in me. Was a fucking jackhammer. This was why he was here. Coach didn’t say a word. Just held himself back. Ready to stop it, if it got out of hand. I let Coach know I didn’t want it to stop. I pushed back. Fucked myself on Pete. Guys came closer. Circled us. Some stroked. Then Pete stiffened. “Shit!” he barked. Repeated it until he shot his load in my wrecked hole. Pete looked down at me, surprised how far he’d gone. That I just took it. No problem. He took a deep breath. Pulled out slowly. “Goddamn,” he panted, looking at Coach. “Not gonna lie. This is the one. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him. Get him into the Ivy close by. Have him there on my squad until he’s ready.” Coach only smiled. Pointed to another guy. Told him he was next. After that, I took more. Only thinking about loads. Coach kept me spun. Just enough to keep me going. Not enough to forget what was happening. Said he wanted me to remember it. Every fuck. Every load. At some point, Coach told me I’d had enough. His voice was final. No room to argue. Told him I wanted more. He knew that. That was the point. Coach plugged me. Then reached down, gripped my arm, helped me up. His touch was firm. Steady. I leaned into him, legs still shaky. He didn’t say anything. Just kept walking me to the exit. Like this was part of it. Like I was supposed to be seen. Said we were going home. I needed to rest up. It’d been a long week. Along the way, the guys stood back smiling. Some nodded. Some watched. Like they’d been through it themselves. Coach drove us home, quiet. One hand on the wheel, other resting on my thigh. He led me in, didn’t say much. The place was warm. He took off my jock. First time since I got there, naked. Nothing on. Totally exposed. He could see what shape I was in. Smiled. Took me to shower. Got in with me. Scrubbed me down, carefully. Dried and wrapped me in a towel, then helped me into bed. No pressure to take another load. Sheets were soft. Room still. He pulled the blanket over me, brushed my hair back. Stayed there a moment. Long enough for me to feel it. Then I slept. Felt like forever. I woke up slow. Sheets warm. Muscles sore in a good way. Coach’d been in the kitchen. Been up for hours. He heard me. Came in. Handed me juice. “You need to head out soon,” he said, checking my hole. “Parents’ll be back tomorrow.” I nodded, rubbed my face, tried to wake up. He tossed the jockstrap on the bed. The one I wore the whole time. “Leave the underwear,” he told me. “From now on, it’s jockstraps. You’re a musclejock now.” I looked at it in my hand. Was wet with a fresh load. Coach stood there, arms crossed. Waiting to see what I’d do. I nodded once, slow. It made sense. No more hiding. Just muscle. Don’t know what came over me next. I sniffed it. Licked it. Chewed it. Wanted to taste Coach. “Fucking jockpig,” he growled, "Can’t get enough loads, can ya.” I just grunted. Got up. Put it on. Coach stood back, satisfied. I’d proved I was his now. And looked the part. I got dressed in my street clothes. Coach walked me to the door. No speech. No long look. Handed me a gym bag full of jockstraps. Turned out later some were used. From the school locker room. He knew me. “You know what’s next,” was all he said, hand on my shoulder. I nodded. Stepped out. Sun was down again. Air felt different. Like I’d left something behind and picked up something better. The next days I stood taller. Pecs out. Shoulders set. I wasn’t trying. Just felt right. People noticed. I was a musclejock now. And it showed. It hit a couple of weeks later. My body heavy. Head fogged. Couldn’t keep food down. Could barely stand. I texted Coach. Said he wanted to see me. He showed up. Didn’t even ask. “Just checking in,” he told mom at the door. Mom smiled, stepped aside. “You were always there for him when he needed you. Good to see you back in his life,” she said. “Ben’s up in his room. Second door on the right.” Coach stepped in, nodded. “He’s one of mine,” he told her. Like that explained everything. Mom just smiled. He walked up the stairs, down the hall. Leaned in the doorway, arms crossed. That half-smile already there. I groaned, sat up slow. Felt like I’d been hit by a truck. He stepped in. Shut the door. Pulled the blanket off, sat on the edge of the bed. “Fucker,” he smiled, seeing me in a jock. I’d done what he told me. He played with my hole. “It took. You’ll bounce back. When you do, I’m taking you to make it official. Things’ve changed. You’ve got purpose. You’ve got me in you.” I let that sit. Nodded, wiped my face. My hole was coming back to life. “Shit yeah. Can’t wait, Coach. Must be it.” We sat there. Talked about what happened. Talked more about the time we spent apart. We settled everything. New start. I got tired, so he left. Told me to let him know when I felt better. Coach picked me up early that morning. Nodded. Pointed to the passenger seat. We didn’t talk much on the way. The clinic was quiet. Clean. He checked me in, sat beside me. They ran the test. Told me results would take a day or two. Coach didn’t seem worried. Said he knew the results. It was obvious. Just wanted to make it official like he told me. He dropped me home after. Told me to rest. Said he’d come back when it was time. I waited a day. Checked my phone. Still nothing. Felt anxious. Couldn’t sit still. Next day Coach texted. Results were in. Be ready in ten. Didn’t even think to ask why he got notified and not me. I sat quiet on the way. Hoping it really took. Not some stupid flu. We walked in. Nurse called my name. Coach stood first. Followed him into the room. Nurse handed over the envelope. Coach took it before I could. Told nurse to leave, he’d handle it. Coach opened it slow, read the results. Handed me the paper. I scanned it fast. Exhaled. Didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath. I laughed. Couldn’t help it. Felt it in my chest, in my gut. I was poz! Coach watched me, nodding slow. “It’s official,” he grinned, hugging me. “You got my DNA, boy!” I nodded back, still laughing. “I’m a fucking poz musclejock, Coach!” He laughed. Grabbed my ass. Slapped it. “Damn right you are. My place.” The drive took forever. Coach tapped the wheel like he couldn’t wait. I just wanted another load. We finally got inside. He watched me strip to my jockstrap. “Nope,” he barked, surprising me. “This one. Always this one here.” He held the jockstrap out. Crusted, stained, stench reeking from it. The one I got pozzed in. The one I wore home when I left here. Bagged it up when I got home. Added a bunch of loads to it. But couldn’t find it later. Couldn’t ask mom. Figured she’d tossed it, too embarrassed to say anything. Coach told me he saw it in my room when came over. Snuck it out. Told me not to wash it. Ever. Would remind me getting pozzed. I nodded. Dropped the one I had on. Put on the one I would wear here. The smell hit me. Been stewing in the bag. I looked up at Coach. Grinned. “Best fucking smell. Ever.” I moaned, stepping up to him. Now hard. Marking the pouch more. Coach pulled me to him. Slipped a finger in my hole. I was prepped. Did what he told me. Always ready. I stood there, pecs rising, heart thudding, grinning. Told him I missed his cock. Been thinking about it. Been craving it. Not just his load. It fucking me. I tightened up. “Yeah?” Coach growled, “Been awhile, huh?” I nodded. Kissed him. Wanted to show him how grateful I was. For the workouts. For the pozzing. I pulled off his polo. Dropped to my knees, took off his shoes and socks. Unbuckled his belt. Unzipped his pants, pulled them down. He stood there. Naked. Hair everywhere. Pecs, arms, stomach, legs. Black mixed with gray, same as his beard, same as the tight crew cut on his head. His skin was sun-worn, deep tan lines with a few rough patches. And there it was. My first cock. The one that did it. He stepped in closer. Slid his cock across my lips. I took it in. Felt the scorpion sliding over my tongue. Its stinger leaking. Fuck! It tasted even better now. Knew its venom was finally flowing through my veins. Leaking from my cock. Had the proof. “Fuck yeah, boy,” Coach groaned, “Let’s celebrate.” I moaned. Knew exactly what he meant. Coach didn’t look back. Just walked to the bedroom. I followed behind. Saw the pipe on the nightstand, waiting for me. Shit! It’d been a while. “Go on, boy. Your folks know you’ll be here all weekend,” he said, hands sliding over my pecs, flicking my nips. “Said I was gonna get you started on a new program. Ready to compete.” I felt those words land. My voice cracked. “Didn’t think you saw that in me.” He nodded. “Yeah, that was always part of the plan.” Said it like it was obvious. Like I should’ve known. I swallowed hard, pecs tight. Wanted to prove him right. Prove to him I had what it took to compete. His fingers went lower, brushed my abs. Traced down my trail. Then he slipped his hand in my pouch. Held my junk. “Next step. Hair’s gotta go. Gonna get you smooth.” Voice thick now, “Ready to poz.” “Shit, yeah,” I moaned, remembering Greg. Smooth. Slick from sweat. I looked in the mirror. Imagined me shaved. No hair, just clean skin with hard lines. Pecs shaved down, gap cut deep. Glutes, my hole, smooth. Would all hit different. Every flex would show more. Every pump beg for attention. My bush? I trimmed it. Shaved? It’d pop. Guys wouldn’t just stare. Would beg for it! I grabbed the pipe, still buzzed from the news. Coach stood behind me. Cock at my hole. I slid the stem between my lips. Lit the bowl. Drew a cloud, just as his cock went in. “Fuck!” I gasped, letting out the cloud. I pushed back. Wanted him all the way in. We stood there. Cloud wrapped around us. I passed the pipe. He told me to do all I wanted. I smiled. Kept on. Felt it start to work. Coach’s cock throbbed in me. No rush to fuck this time. Didn’t need to. It’d happened. I passed him the pipe. He took a deep hit. Pulled his cock out and pushed back in one time. Then took another hit. Smoked out the bowl. I was ready. He grabbed me. Lifted me. Threw me on the bed. “Fuck. Please.” I begged. “Yeah?” he laughed, cock buried in me. “Still begging for it? Good boy. You’re hooked." He started fucking me. Stretched me open. It’d been a while. He dug in. Hit my spot. On the way in. On the way out. That's when I felt it. My hole throbbed. “DEEPER!” I yelled. Begged. Wanted him to plow into me. “Fuck your poz musclejock!” He kept it up. Felt every inch of his shaft in me. Fucked me harder. Deeper. Sound of our sweaty bodies slapping against each other filled the room. My head fell back, eyes rolled up. Clenched down hard to keep him inside. Coach growled, sped up the fucking. His balls pulled up. He tensed. “FUCKING SHIT!” he yelled, shooting into me. “TAKE IT!” I was too into it to move. Just felt him on top of me. Felt his weight pushing in me. Then he pulled out. I stayed there, breathing heavy, body wired. Still caught in it. Still wanting more. “We’re not done,” he growled, motioning to the bag of Tina. “Got all weekend.” I blinked up at him. Smiling. “And next time you come over,” he said, “I’ve got a surprise for you.” My stomach flipped. Not fear. Not nerves. Just wanting. He didn’t explain. Just packed the pipe.

I assume you clean deep. How long does cleaning your ass take? I’ve seen lots of different answers, but I’m sure I can count on yours.

The first cock I ever sucked, at 15, was my buddy Keith Myers who, also 15, could suck his own cock. The first time he showed me he could get just about the whole shaft in his mouth, and he said to me "you can suck it too with me." So I did. We both sucked his cock until he came. I can still taste it to this day. Then he watched me jerk off. That went on for about a year or so until he fucked me in his backyard, twice in one night. From that point on we went our separate ways.