These stories are about men having sex with other men. If you're not into that, then too bad for you. Because these stories are fake, no one in them has to worry about safety. And stopping the action to describe Tom Brady tearing open a condom packet, pinching the reservoir to avoid bubbles, etc., really fucks with the narrative flow. If you do this stuff in real life ALWAYS wear a condom and be safe.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Broncos Wideouts

Wednesday meant film review, walkthrough, practice, and training.  Wes Welker didn't mind game week Wednesdays.  They flew by.  But damn.  After barely escaping the Chargers last week and with the Chiefs on tap this week, Denver's wideouts had an extra film session with their position coach.  That meant the group missed the regular training schedule, so they had to fit it in during the day.  Never a morning person, Wes planned to hang out after the end of the day to work out. 
With the sun long set after his last film meeting -- how was it already mid November? and why does it get dark so early? -- he headed toward the weight room to get in his workout. 
"Burning the midnight oil, eh?" asked a deep voice behind him.  Wes turned around to see Eric Decker walking down the hall toward him.  The big 6'3" stud was in jeans and a hoodie, looking like he was his way out the door. 

Red Eye -- Chapter 2

Mark managed to get to his gate just as they were about to close the door to the jetway.  Hugely relieved and out of breath, he tried to collect himself, put his hood back up, and walk like a normal person down the jetway to his plane.  But he was totally screwed up.  He was sweating.  He was buzzed.  His legs were shaky like they always were after getting fucked.  He was out of breath from running.  But he got his breath under control, situated his hoodie, and tried to be calm and collected as he boarded the plane.


Thursday, September 1, 2011

Broncos QB Depth Chart

"Thanks.  You have a blessed day."

Tim Tebow disconnected the call.  He tossed his phone across the bed.  He cradled his head in his hands and rubbed his face in exhaustion.

The call with WFAN was his fourth radio interview in the past two hours.  And the most aggressive.  The New York media is known for being brutal, but Tim was in town to promote kick off of the new NFL season.  Not to be harangued about the proper throwing motion by some radio douche who probably did not even know the right way to put on a jock.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Red Eye

Mark Sanchez looked at his watch.  10:00.  "Fuck," he thought.  The red eye for NY didn't leave for another hour.  The waiter in the Star Alliance lounge came by, and Mark ordered another g&t.  He'd had two already.  But he was facing five and a half hours on a plane.  He could sleep it off.  Besides, he only gets back to LA a couple of times a year.  The party doesn't have to end quite yet.  The waiter delivered his drink, and he took a sip.

Sunday, May 1, 2011

QB Sack -- chapter 2

The alarm started buzzing at 6:00.  Every time it started to scream, a hand reached out
from under the white sheets and slapped the snooze button.  When it started buzzing for the
fifth time, a sleepy-eyed Jared Allen finally emerged from under a pillow, realized it was
already after 7:00, and muttered "fuck." The Vikings star rolled his big frame onto his
back, rubbed his eyes with both hands and let out a deep yawn.  As he stretched out his
arms and legs and tried to rejoin the land of the living, Allen reached down to scratch his
heavy nuts.  On his way down, his hand brushed his big morning wood---eight and a half
inches of thick cut cock standing tall and proud.

QB Sack -- chapter 1

Jared Allen stood in his bathroom in just a towel, looking at his body.  He had spent the day at practice with the Vikings, and came home exhausted.  The big redneck had always been active, and loved horse roping and steer wrestling.  It always kept the 6'6" stud in great shape, but the past few years of NFL training had put him into the best shape of his 28 years.  He flexed his arms, flexed his pecs, and tightened his abs, posing for himself. His slightly hairy chest was massive and hard as a rock.


Saying Good-bye to Brady Quinn

Brady Quinn's arm collapsed under him with the force of the fucking he was getting.  His face mashed into the pillow on his king size bed, and his head started rhythmically bumping against the headboard.  He tried to ignore his discomfort, focusing instead on the fact that he had no idea when he'd again get a chance to feel this good, to get fucked this deeply and thoroughly.  One hand was between his legs, stroking his fat six inch cock; he had fallen onto the other.  He was propped up on that elbow, his hand straining to graze one of his nipples.  He was sweating, having been fucked already for ten minutes. He knew from experience he was probably going to get another half hour or so.  A jolt of pleasure coursed through him as he was smacked, hard on his smooth right ass cheek.