Crew Team Discipline 3: Tyler's Blue Balls

NOTICE: All the Standard warnings about being of age, being aware of your community standards apply to the following story! Please read no further if you are underage 18/21--or live in a conservative area--or are offended by explicit sexual stories. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to anyone is strictly coincidental. Any reprints with attribution to author.

Synopsis: The coxswain of a college crew team takes on the responsibility of keeping jocks on campus in line.

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One of the things I like most about being the coxsman on the crew team is being responsible for my guys. They fuck up, the team fucks up. And ya gotta face it, guys who average 6'3" tall and weigh 205 lbs, are not your basic rocket scientists. Most of them are good natured oafs who like pussy because it makes their dicks feel good, and row because someone told them to do it. They are hunky and horny, and that's how I like 'em. No matter how they act, or how straight they are, any port in a storm works for their constant boners.

But once in a while, one of these guys can't get his dork unplugged. That is, they are so horny that they fuck anything that walks and lose their focus. That's usually when the coach gives me the high sign, and I've got to take action on behalf of the team. No man and no dick is more important than our team. We have to stroke together (and I mean the fucking boat), pull together, sweat and strain together, and pop (now this is the one you were thinking about earlier and is my take on team chemistry) together, in order to be a successful boat. Whenever one of the team gets lost in the pursuit of ways to shoot scum, I step in and restore order.

Tyler Martin is a fun guy. I love redheads, and this guy was one of my favorite reds. He had deep auburn hair, and that complexion that tans so nice on his arms and legs, and the greenest eyes you've ever seen. Under his arms, around his pale white cock, and deep in the grove of his pale white ass was a shock of dark red hair. It sprouted on his long, thick toes, and on his long, thick fingers. And those freckles, those sexy freckles. Seemed to me he always smelled of Irish Spring soap and Old Spice deodorant. I knew one thing, he always smelled good. The few times we had fucked around, and I had sniffed his spunky balls, the big duck eggs which hung low and lopsided, reeked of starch and ball sweat in healthy, clean way. This kid was a sperm factory, and I wanted to be the guy to manage production.

Coach told me that Tyler had been seen hanging around the adult book store in town, and he was worried that either the kid might get into something unsafe, or might get busted by the cops. I figured that I'd just follow him around a while, and see what the big goof was up to. What I learned made my prick drip. Tyler was a machine, he had to shoot scum, and he found places where guys would take up the slack that the girls he dated could not absorb. He didn't care where he dropped a load, just so that hard iron, and those big balls could get drained on a regular basis.

The first time I tracked him was on a Friday night. He had showered in the house, and since we did not have a party goin' or any socials that night, he headed into town on his own at about nine o'clock. I followed him in my car, and parked a block away from him after he reached the bookstore downtown. He parked in the back, and ducked into the door so no one would see him. But I followed, and kept a respectable distance so he wouldn't catch on. It wasn't easy, I'll tell you. A guy like Tyler gets attention when he goes into an adult book store, and I wasn't doin' too bad myself. I had to chase a couple of guys outta my face, just so I could keep an eye on old Tyler. He just ignored the attention, got some tokens, and headed for the booths in the back.

He finally picked himself a stall near one end of an isle, but with booths on either side. I moved into one next to him just as he closed his door. I popped a couple of quarters into the machine, and looked at the wall. The light from the film illuminated the thin partition, and right smack dab in the middle of the wall was a hole with about a six inch diameter. This was glory hole city, and my man Tyler was getting ready to get his pipe drained. I leaned down, and put my head to the side so he couldn't see me, but I could glance in and see him in living color. It took a few moments to get in place, and another to get him in my sights, but when I did I wasn't disappointed.

Jeez what a fucking sight. The big red head had his chinos down around his suede low-tops. His baggy plaid green boxers contrasted to his red hair and tanned skin. The bulging muscles on his thighs were covered in dense, thick, curly red hair all the way up to the edge of the briefs. The hair on his chest fanned out to the two pecs, and trailed down to obscure his navel and hint at the forest below the waistband of his Jockeys. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing the chest, but both nipples were hidden by the unbuttoned flaps, spread just wide enough to look fucking sexy. Old Tyler was rubbing the already bulging mound of his boxers, causing the pale white fuck stick within to appear for a tantilizing moment, then disappear as the loose material moved with his hand. The other hand was gently tugging on one of his hidden tits. A dark wet stain had already begun to darken the material where his prick tip was drooling, and each time he tugged on his cock through the cotton, his thighs involuntarily spread slightly, and he closed his eyes and hissed quietly from the tug on his nip.

As I was watching, a face appeared in the wall across from me. Another six inch diameter hole was cut into the opposite partition, and a face about thirty years old was looking first my way, then towards Tyler's hunky, big boy body. Suddenly a hand appeared next to the face, and a long, strong looking index finger came to the hole, then protruded into Tyler's stall. Tyler was watching some mindless fuck flick where the girl was sucking a cock on one end, while a long, thin cock with a fat head was reaming out her pussy and scrubbing her clit on the other end. Tyler acted as if he did not see the finger curling from the hole, but without looking and without acknowledging the face peering towards him and finger beckoning him, he stood up.

He didn't move toward the partition, or the whole. He just stood up, and leaned back against the back wall of his booth. His chinos were piled around his low-tops, and he slowly rubbed his big paw back and forth against the bulging, askew boxers. The long, curbed prick under his briefs, began to force itself toward the hole, and without warning, the fat fuck stick poked through, revealing a pale long helmet on the curved stalk, with a wide set of piss lips and a pebbled flange. Tyler just squeezed his balls through the boxers, and let his rigid prick curve up and out, drooling one long string of slimy boy sap. The wet piss lips, the long string of goo, and rolling hips each time he plucked his tit, made Tyler look as tasty as it made him look nasty. This boy was going to get his boner worked tonight.

The face across the booth from me, showed only at the lips, a dark 5 o'clock shadow framing his mouth. The long bony finger beckoned, and the mouth hissed, calling Tyler to move his randy prick toward the hole and relief. Tyler ignored the call, but without looking to toward the hole, he slowly shifted his weight from leaning back against the wall, and leaned over against the side of the partition, inches away from the hole and the grasping fingers. When he did so, his long seven inch scimitar, with its big fat succulent knob, moved within finger grasping range. The long fingers protruded in through the hole, and in one swift, calculated move, the rough palm encircled just the end of Tyler rogue dick and smoothed the dripping pre-scum into the circumcision scar, and thumbing the sensitive dick head. Tyler hunched, and gave a sexy, horny groan: ooooohhhh shit, yyyyeeeeeaaaaah, fuck yyyyyeeaaaaaah, aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh...." His eyes closed, and his wobbled a bit as he allowed the rough fist to grind his beautiful boy peter and milk out more sap.

The guy across the way was in heaven. He had that gorgeous cock in his hand, and he sensed he could do what he wanted with it. As he gently slid his fist back and forth around the dick head, he whispered hoarsely through the hole: "yeah college boy, you need this don't ya buddy....your big nuts are full of cum, and I wanna help you get off...get that stuff out and give your big fat dick some relief...yeah, guy....come on, lemme help, lemma help ya...yeah, that's it, come on over here....." Of course, Tyler had that in mind the whole time, but without acknowledging the meaty fist that was stroking his pork, or the fuck talk about his wang and nads, he let the gripping hand guide him toward the hole. As he did, he let his shirt slide open wide, and his rosy pink nipples, shart and pointed, jutted off his sloping pecs. He rubbed a hand absently over first one, then the other, letting his own rough palm graze the rubbery nubbins and cause a little gasp to escape his lips.

The determined hand of drew the wide knob to the hole, and with a salacious slurp, the wet mouth engulfed the stiff dick tip, and then slid down the clean smelling pubes. I could see Tyler's taut pale butt cheeks flex as the siphoning mouth sucked the rogue prick deep into the mouth and toward the throat, suckling the aching knob and the tongue sliding over and around the drooling glans. The hole must have been somewhat larger than my own, because the fingers which were rolling the heavy, scented nuts, slipped a finger between Tyler's legs. He obediently spread his thighs as wide as his binding pants would allow, and the long thick fuck finger slid up the rear crack, scratching and probing until it found the sweet little anal knot, then with insistent strokes, tickled and rubbed the little opening, haloed by the dark, curling auburn hair. Tyler gasped again when the finger found his hidden entry, and he stood up on his toes, his tits grinding against the dirty, rough partition. He urged the lewd mouth to make him shoot: "Aaaaaaahhhhhh fuck it...suuuuuck my dick.....aaaaaawwwwww yeaaaaahhhhh...lick my meat.... ooooohhhhhhh, shit, yeah!, right there dude, right there......ooooooooohhhhhhhh fuck yeah, eat meeeeeeeeee!" The slurping mouth did not disappoint. It seemed to gain strength from Tyler's nasty whispers, and the way the kid ground his hips against the hole in the wall as if he could shove them through the small hole in the wall to get deeper into the relentless mouth.

Suddenly, Tyler stretched his arms up and out, his body plastered against the partition with a thud, and he stood high on his toes. I could see his butt cheeks flex once, then twice, then several times rapidly, and the worming finger threatened to breach the clenched portal. Tyler was unloading volley after volley of boy jizz...shooting tasty wads of starchy cum deep into the throat of the gulping man on the other side.

Tyler was through, but his sucker was not. Like a leech, the mouth sucked and suckled, draining the fat nuts, and torturing the sensitive glans until Tyler was forced to use his hands to pop the semi-hard dick from the clinging lips. He crashed back to the seat, his disheveled hair wet with sweat, as was his torso. The pointy tits were still sticking out, and a long strand of cum and spit dripped from the spongy head of the tingling dick. Tyler closed his eyes, and sighed, his horniness temporary abated. Then without looking at the face that still savored the sweet stud it had just worked over, and without even glancing in my direction, Tyler pulled up his pants, tucked in his shirt and buttoned up, quickly ran his comb through his hair, then left.

I followed him back to his car, and then back to the house. Later than night, I snuck into his room from the fire escape, and hid in the closet. Like the dick brain he was, the randy kid jerked his meat one more time before he went to sleep. Lying on his back, his butt bouncing on the bed, his knees spread and feet planted, and that big fist sliding up and down the every hard cock flesh. After ten minutes of mauling, and with a finger from his other hand tickling the hairy assport of his rectum without invading it, Tyler shot another four ropes of gism onto his chest. He took a rag from under his bed, wiped his chest, and then rolled over. In fifteen minutes, when he was almost snoring, I slipped back out, working a plan in my head.

What Tyler had not noticed while he was being blown was that I had a small video wand in my hand. I had taped the whole fucking scene, and especially when he was finished, his wet drippy boner flopping out of the gripping mouth, and his body lolling on the bench after he'd shot his wad. It took about a week, but I left a copy for old Tyler in a sealed envelope and told him to watch it by himself. That night, he knocked on my door, looking scared and sheepish.

He was dressed in baggy shorts, boat shoes with no socks, and an oversized t-shirt. His short red hair and the strawberry fur that covered his arms and legs, looking so tasty standing before me. I spoke with solemn authority: "T, you've been fucking around, getting your dick sucked by glory hole faggots, and generally putting the team behind your hard prick. Coach called me, and I followed you last Friday night, and now you know that I know. If I send this to the Coach, he'll send it off to your parents, and you'll be fucked big time. It's VMI or the Citadel for you for sure once they see that pink schlong of yours getting slurped by that fruit at the book store, and you lookin' all sap happy with your dick drippin' and your tits hard. Things are gonna change, startin' now and I think you know what I mean. It's time for me to take charge of your rampant dick."

"Jeez Mack, you know I'm hornier than sin, and I can't fuckin' wait for a week to blow a wad of scum. I need my pork tended on a reg'lar basis...shit, why is Coach so fuckin' old fashioned? Hell, I'm not doing anything that half the team hasn't wanted to do...fucking son of a bitch!"

"Yeah, T, but the rest of the guys keep it in house, and make sure that the team is what's paramount, not any snot-nosed goof's wiener. Com'on over bud, your restriction starts today, or Coach get's the film. The choice is yours?

Pissed but defeated, Tyler walked over to me. I shut the door, and locked it, then pulled a bag from inside my closet. "T, we start with inspection. Shuck the blue tennies, and pull the t-shirt off. We'll start there. Stand on the chair."

As I walked to the bed and put down the bag, Tyler kicked off the boat shoes and stood up on the wooden desk chair near the bed. He pulled the t-shirt off, and stood in the baggy shorts, hanging low on his hips, and nothing else. I noticed how his sharp tipped nipples jutted so succulently off his sloping pecs. Although a forest of auburn hair framed them, the little raspberries, hard and rubbery, thrust forward like little missiles, ready to be pinched or clipped. I decided on the latter. I absently moved my hands up to his chest, and smoothed my rough palms over the little nubs. T hunched slightly to avoid the sensation, but my heat seeking flesh followed and grazed the tips enough to cause his shorts to begin to punch out, and his eyes to close for a moment. I ordered him to lift his arms, and ran my fingernails through his red forest deep in the pits. The warm boy scent was mitigated by the smell of deodorant. My nails scraped through, and the big junior pulled his arms down trying to stop the tickle while he laughed nervously. I sat on the bed, and lifted first one foot then the other. The damp scent of his foot sweat wafted from the long toes, but his feet smelled clean...not stinky. I held up one, ran my fingers under the soft, warm skin and tickled both the instep and under the toes. He almost lost his balance, but bent over and grasped by shoulders to keep himself steady. After looking at the other foot, I reached up, and unloosened his belt. He looked at me impassively, knowing that I would strip him and that he could say nothing without jeopardizing his rowing career. I unsnapped the shorts, and yanked down the zipper. The fell around his ankles, and I faced his curved love muscle, hard and sticky already from my touching his body.

Tyler blushed, but the cock continued to drool. I ignored his horny wiener, and turned him around. I pushed his back, and made him bend over. The slight damp scent of his sweaty crack met my nostrils, but once again, not stink. If Tyler had shit this morning, he must also have showered because the ass crack and hair were not rancid. Instead, the scent of a clean young man made my dick get crow bar hard, and drip in my boxers. It seemed that the moment my finger pushed through the riot of dark, damp curls to find the hidden portal, a charge of electricity went through both Tyler and I. My dick lurched as I touched the forbidden knot, and his dick throbbed as my insidious finger tickled the nether door to his libido. These straight boys don't want to know about assholes, and they think that a women's long fingernail rooting around up there is part of the deal with getting their dick up some pussy, sort of like the scratches you get on your back. But once you get a finger up those itchy little holes, it's almost like manipulating a puppet with some guys...their dicks can't get soft until you massage it for them from the inside, out.

"OK, T my man. Now its time for you to get ready for the cage. It'll keep ya outta trouble till the next time I help you."

"Whaddya mean, 'cage' Tyler asked puzzled, turning to stand before me with his curved dick almost soaked in clear, sticky pre-sap. I pulled a contraption out of my bag and held it before his incredulous eyes. It was like a jock strap, with a light, chain-mail pouch. At the waistline and attached to the pouch, were a padlock, with a small lock. I explained that once he had this up his hips, he could not slip it off unless I unlocked the padlock. He could piss through the chain-mail, and shit like normal. But he could only get semi-hard, and he could not get his hands on his cock. He looked at me like I was crazy, and began to protest that this was too much weird shit. He was going to go and speak to the coach.... I said fine, and I gave him a copy of the tape. I told him to take it with him, because I was going to give the coach a copy if he didn't. He dropped his head, and took a deep breath. He mumbled something like "fucking shit-motherfucking damn asshole fuck-shit..." then just stood there with this brooding expression and his hands on his hips.

"Lick you fingers and palm Tyler." He looked at me again like I was crazy. "Just do what I'm tellin' ya, and do it quick. I'm runnin' out of patience with this resistance shit." He lifted his hand to his mouth, sucked his fingers, and licked his palm. "Spit on your palm...." He did so. "Now grab that prick and jack-off." I said it so matter-of-factly that he just looked at me like maybe I had made a mistake. "You heard what I said shit-head, grab that pecker, and work just the knob, now!" He lowered his hand to his dick, and standing on that chair naked as a jaybird, he looked so fucking sexy with his cock in his fist. He slowly began to spin the palm and fingers around the turgid stalk and bulging glans. Each time his rough fist grazed the piss lips and circumcision scar, he would bend his knees, and his prick would spit more clear drops to lubricate the rotating hand.

"Now pinch you tits, first one, then the other." He opened his eyes to hear me, then closed them as his fist continued to grind the rigid prick, and his other hand began to pluck at the rubbery teats. "Yeah, that's it scumbag, play with yourself in front of the me how good you are, and why I should keep you on the first that dick and put on a show for me you dick-slave." His breath began to come in gasps, and his dick began to expand. After all, even if Tyler did not want to pull his pud in front of another guy, getting to fire a load was always at the top of his priorities. Looking at him enjoy the sensations, I figured one or two more quick tugs on his tits, and he be roping cum around the room. "OK, prick, stop, NOW!" He almost refused, rotating his fist even faster as if he could cum and evade my order, but I slapped his hand and his cock knob, and he bent over in pain, his eyes opening with a look of incredulous fear. "When I speak to you, dick-brain, you listen...understand. Otherwise, this session is ended, and you are on the J.V. boat for the rest of the season."

He pulled his sticky, wet palm from the cock and stood there, gasping as his prong throbbed, ready to shoot and dribbling, but not allowed to. "Okay, now on the bed, face down, ass up and legs spread wide with your feet off the end." He followed the instructions, looking at me out of the side of his eyes, making sure I was not going to jump him or something. I stood there, my arms crossed, my face impassive, waiting for him to follow orders, then pushing his legs more widely apart as I wanted them.

The muscular thighs and big knees pushed the bed down, and he put his face on the pillows, facing me to keep watch. He spread his legs towards the sides of the bed with my assistance, his toes just making it off the edge so I could see his pale soles, the high arch, and the tender pink of the long digits. "Okay asswipe...put this on." He looked at me, and the glove I gave to him. On the index finger, there was a leather finger sowed to the glove material, and all around the leather carefully stitched to the material was an eighth inch carpet of stiff horse hair, which prickled any flesh that it touched. Even wet, or lubricated, these bristles stayed firm, projecting out from the finger at 90 degree angle all the way to the palm point where the finger joined the palm. I had dipped the finger in my wicked itching gel, but told Tyler it was just an oily lubricant. Once he had slipped on, then buckled the glove to his wrist, I spoke again. "Now take the other glove and slip in on your other hand. This glove, was a leather batting glove with a strange tube glued firmly to the palm. The fingers of the glove curled around the tube, forcing whomever had it on their hand to grasp the tube and hold it firmly. Inside the tube, made from an old plastic tennis ball can, with both ends cut off, was another carpet of horse hair completely encircling the inner core. I spoke again, after the awkward glove was firmly strapped in place, and the lubricated tube was ready for use. "Now slip your prick inside of the tube, slowly."

As Tyler did as he was told, as much out of banal curiosity as in response to my order, he gasped ..."OH fuck! What the shit...aaaaagggggghhhhhhhhh..." he groaned as the tingling bristles scrubbed his pale, tender dick skin. His jerking earlier had made the skin both tender and sensitive, ready to be rubbed rather than prickled. His first instinct was the withdraw his cock, but I stopped him and made him continue. This sensation was so different from anything his prick had ever felt, it tickled and scratched at the same time, and it made his dick expand and go rigid from its semi-erect state. "Now gently screw your index finger on your other hand in your butt, dickhead." He looked at me with "oh jeez, come the fuck on...what's this shit...I'm not gonna finger fuck myself." I answered his expression out loud..."Oh yes buddy, you're gonna screw the shit out of that asshole. That's what you get for fucking with the team's chemistry and almost getting yourself in trouble. You're gonna fuck yourself silly with that finger, while you move your fist up and down in that tube. And you're not gonna stop until I give you permission. Get it cum breath?" He looked at me for the first time with a sense of awe and fear. He was in deep shit, and his dick was already tingling from a new sensation that he could not quite make out.

"Do it, you prick, and do it quick or I'll have to come over and do it for you...!" With that, he gently began to insert the prickling index finger up his fundament...slowly screwing and turning the fingertip until the first horse hairs were wriggling against the inner lips of his pucker. Jeez what a fucking sight, this big butch rower, his long toes curling as he struggled to keep his own ass muscles from gripping and making it harder to work the irritating finger up his anus. But with quiet determination, he made it, and gasped again when the bristles and his fingertip met with his hard little joy button, up his colon. "Aaaaahhhhhh....jeeeeezzzz....what the fuck is that, ....god fucking damnit.......I gotta take this frigging finger outta my's killin' me...come on Mack....this has gone far enough...uuuuuuhhhhhhhhh...that's feels weird....this is fucking weird shit man.....this is enough...come on damnit!"

"Yeah T, it's a 'friggin' finger alright, and that's just what you're gonna do now. Start friggin' and jerking, till I tell you to stop, or I swear, I'll get a couple of the guys over here, and we'll tie you down and do it get that you fuckin' pussy!" But ole' Tyler was too gone with the sensation to respond. He'd already reflexively begun to screw his long, thick finger in and out of his own butt, the gell beginning to cause his ass lining to itch uncontrollably and his finger and the bristles were the only way he could soothe it. Plus, his fuck nut was know drippin' in the melted gel, and the little bumps on the surface begged for the bristles at the same time his rooting finger made him feel like he was stuffed full and rubbing the most uncomfortable place in his body. His toes were tightly curled, and I leaned over to scratch one pale sole, just to see him jump from the added sensation.

His dick was now covered with the little red bumps, especially around his piss lips and the flange of his aching glans. He couldn't stop ramming the curved cock into the cylinder, just to find a way to get the bristles to soothe the maddening itch. Since his cock was curved, and the tube was round, he had to keep moving his fist to try and soothe each irritated spot. Tyler was masturbating himself to a giant ejaculation, and unbeknownst to him, his eyes closed and his lips gasping and moaning, I was video-taping his every lurching move on the bed. I egged him on: "Yeah, T, rub that bad boy dick, beat it to submission, that's what you gotta do dick-brain, work that cock until it stops telling you what to do every day. We're gonna give you these treatments every night for a week, and then you're gonna start going for days without shooting your shit. You're gonna learn self-discipline, and that undisciplined cock is only gonna get fuck duty and cum relief when we give it permission."

"Maybe me and the guys will vote about when you will be allowed take some girl out and screw her silly, and we'll draw straws to see who gets to unlock your cock cage. You'll have to have an asshole inspection, and even between your toes, and inside your navel, to make sure you're keeping clean and stickin' to the regimen. You're gonna be a good boy from now on T, and that drippy boner of yours is gonna be under strict supervision. You'll be beggin' me to work off a load for you by the time we are through."

And you know, Tyler did. Within two months he was willing to suck my toes, lick my hairy asshole, sniff my balls in front of other guys, and milk his boner for an audience at my direction just to get a chance to relieve the spunk stored in his big, hanging nuts. He'd even let me scratch those big fuckers with a tooth brush while he howled, just for the hope of getting the brush on his dick outside of the confines of that infernal cock cage. But tonight, Tyler was in jerk-off heaven, working his index finger up his butt, and his prick up and down and every which way in the masturbating horsehair sleeve, getting ready to wrench a huge load of young male sperm from his overheated balls. "Oooooooooohhhh god......oooooooohhhh shit.....what're doing to me.....Mack......aaaaaahhhhhh....I can't stop.....I gotta itches....aaaaaawwwwwww fuckkkkkkkkk, it itches...piss, fuck shit..aaaggghhh!" I made him keep it up until old Tyler shot nine long, thick wads of starchy goo, and then I made him continue without taking a rest. The itching from the gel had not stopped, and he could not prevent his finger from moving back and forth in his asshole, and his fist from rotating around his bulging, red glans. When he came a half hour later, the second time, he was almost sobbing, pleading with me to help him. After I put down the video, I shot my own load in my pants while yanking his finger outta his butt, and slipping his aching schlong from the sleeve. He collapsed on my bed, passed out, and I got the chance to clean him up with a wash cloth while I checked out every inch of his hunky body with him lying spread and dead to the world. Tyler Martin was about to become a changed man, and that juicy dick was now under my control. I rubbed and plucked his succulent nips while I cleaned him up, and true to their disobedient character, the little rubbery nubs firmed up, longing for the kind of attention this fucking piece of horny boy-animal desperately wanted.

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