Crew Team Discipline 5: Milking Marky
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.
You’ll recall that Riley Kramer, the big bodied junior stroke on the team, was a cum hog, a male hose bag, always in need of a rough fist on his pecker, or a rooting finger up his asshole to make the world a "groovy place dude." Old Riley never seemed to dwell on how easily guys or girls could get his Levis and briefs down, and start working that spunky piece of meat. I myself had almost a weekly schedule with Riley. It could be at his apartment, in the training room after hours, at my frat house, or even in the library john, making him sit on my lap in the disabled stall while I frigged him for good measure. Then the big dummy would just smile nicely, say a shy "aw shucks" thank you, and head back to study…his big nuts satisfied for one more 24 hour period. Sometimes on bus trips I’d masturbate Riley through his sweats without letting him cum for two hours. Just to soak his jock with pre-fuck juice, without him complaining and lettin’ me have my way, was worth it. But Riley as you can imagine is on one extreme. Most guys, especially the ones that think they’re straight, are embarrassed if you get them into a consciously sexual situation. Fuck, I was that way early on in high school, putting my arm over my face when the college intern who worked as our trainer would massage me into a boner, and jack me off to huge spurting teenage boy cums. He fucking knew how to milk me, and I wanted every session we had, but I did not want to admit I liked his rough fist slidin’ up and down my big bone, makin’ me squirm and groan until I shot scum. Then I’d go and shower and act like nothin’ had happened.
Well Markland Thompson was that kind of guy. He was the freshman coxswain, who of course was assigned to me. Fucking beauty; 5’6" tall, lean and firm, big hanging nuts for an eighteen year old kid, and a seven inch prick that curved wickedly to the right with an oversized, fat knob. His auburn hair and green eyes were the boy next door dream. And much to my delight, the little fucker was a hot nuts who couldn’t admit that he wanted sex every five minutes. When he heard that Andy Hollings was fucking his regular every day at last twice in his apartment off campus, and that the little blond nympho he was screwing couldn’t get enough dick rubbing her itchy little clit, he threw a boner that didn’to down the rest of the day. I spied on him later one night through his dorm window, grinding his dick into the sheets on his bed, guiding the knob with his fist so it got ruffed up by the soft sheets. I almost shot myself, watching his hairy butt cleft opening and closing as he ground that teenage prick into submission. But during the day, you couldn’t get the kid to talk about cunt or anything else related to sex. He’d blush and try to change the subject, but I could tell anytime one of the guys had a fuck-tale to tell, his shorts would bulge out with his over-heated rod. Fuck, one day while we were exercising and some of the guys started to horse around, I swore ‘junior’ shot a wad in his shorts while he was wrestling with Riley, his face flushed and his breathing unusually deep…all embarrassed and guilty looking after it was over. I decided around midterms in the Fall that I would see whether I could pry my hand into the kid’s shorts. He was so hard-up that I felt I could show him what he was missing, what the little fuck needed.
Our football team is the absolute shits. But over the past few years, it has become a tradition for the guys in the other sports to get wasted and follow them at away games, a kind of backhanded solidarity. We get drunk cause we know they play like crap, but we support em’ just like any guy would for his team or his buds. A group of us decided to go, and I made sure that babyface was in our car. I had decided that I was going to lick off his freckles by the time the night ended, but I needed to get an early start. We met at the frat house, and started drinking by 4 p.m.. The game was a night affair sixty miles away, but it wouldn’t start till 8 o’clock. We ate dinner early, and four of us piled into Riley’s Jeep. The guys knew the score, and when I shoved Marky into the back seat with me, I knew no one would notice any shit going on in the back as we drove. I had added a little "potion" to Markland’s beer before dinner, and by the time we got rolling, he was goofy, acting like a smart alec punk, rather than Mr. Boy Jock as usual. He was saying how our team would knock the crap outta the other team, and he wished he was playing so he could fuck ‘em up. I grinned and guffawed, telling the other guys that we had a real stud on our team, and wondering if he wouldn’t soon become the team fuck champ, hosing girls right and left with an attitude like that. Junior Jack-off sprung a boner in his jeans right away, and I figured it would not go soft when we changed the subject briefly to listen to Andrew brag about the cunt he was boffing regularly and who sucked dick like a vacuum cleaner.
Shortly, the ride settled down and Riley and Andy were gabbing about the team and the game as we drove. It was already the first week in November, so the skies were dark, and the road to the game was pitch black, especially once we got into the countryside. I had told Riley before we left to keep the heater off, and to tell Marky if he asked that it was broken. So Riles and Andrew were bundled in their parkas and sweats. I threw a blanket over Marky and I, because somehow (smile) he had forgotten his parka. When Riles put on a CD blaring music throughout the cab, it was time to make my move.
My knee had been pressed into Marky’s leg under the old army surplus blanket pressing hard when we were laughing and joking. But now, without warning, my hand clamped down on his thigh when we made a sharp turn at the bend outside of town. We were sixty minutes from the game, and in the darkened cab, Marky was as alone with me in the back seat almost as if we were driving by ourselves. He jumped like I had hit him with an electric prod, and he turned towards me with a shocked expression on his face. Immediately, his strong young hand grasped mine with a disbelieving smirk on his face as if to say "hey cut that shit out," or "what the fuck are you doing?" He vainly tried to rip my hand from his Levis covered thigh. He kept quiet, straining his facial muscles and slowly losing his smile, trying to stop me without the guys discovering what was happening. In turn I gave him a broad smile, a wicked grin, letting him know that I wasn’t scared, nor was I going to stop. He brought his other hand to join the first when my strong grip kept his leg captive. But the moment he did that, I reached over with my other hand and snaked it up under his sweat shirt. I stuck a finger under his t-shirt, right into his hairy navel. He gasped, and crunched over, hoping, I guess, to break my finger. But the moment he did that, I squeezed his thigh with my gripping fingers digging into the muscular leg. That caused him to shoot his leg out in reaction to the tickling grip. Then my finger rooted my deeply into Marky’s "inny", making him buck slightly to avoid the other tickling hand that was possessing him. In a futile gesture, he used his left hand to pull at the wrist of the hand investigating his torso, while his right hand struggled to pull my hand off his thigh…now moving closer to his mounded denim covered crotch. That’s when I leaned over and with my beery breath, whispered into this ear, letting my tongue poke out occasionally as I spoke, making the half drunk kid roll his eyes and shake his head in fear.
"Yeah, you little fuck wad, that’s it baby, fight me a little. You know you need this bad… yeah, you’re a hot little pistol, and I’m gonna fire your gun…make you give it up you little snot, make you shoot that boy sludge…yeah baby, that’s it, squrim…but shhhhhhh…keep it down, you don’t wanna have the guys up front see you getting made in the back seat like a two bit whore, do ya?"
My finger in his navel had become a hand in on his abs, spread out and scratching and tickling the hot flesh. The kid had closed his eyes and breathing hard, still fighting to wrench my hands from their work, but he had slid down against the seat and his legs were spasmodically opening and closing to grip my hand now lodged just beneath his spunk filled balls, barely protected by his jeans and briefs. He had begun to pant, and I was sure that his prick had gone rigid in his shorts and was leaking profusely, staining the white briefs and making his crotch feel damp and uncomfortable. I thrust my tongue into his ear, which he lurched away to avoid the lascivious, spitty contact, and I began speaking low and dirty again.
"Ooooooooooo….yeah, that’s it…you gotta have it baby, you gotta get worked. You need those hard little titties pinched, and you need that teenage boy clit rubbed, maybe if I just use my big ole thumb here under your balls, that’ll make you feel better…yeah baby… oooooo yeaaaaahhhhhh…lemme at those titties and lemme lift those big boy balls. Too bad you don’t have a rip in yer jeans, yeah, then I could slip my big old finger under your nards, and find that little hot, hairy hole. Then I could give you a frig job, and sooth the spot that really itches….huhhhhhh….oooooooooo….yeeeaaaaaaaahhhhh…time to let your team captain take care of that horny, bad-boy…sooooo hard and sticky ain’t it ….yeeeeaaaaah!"
When my thumb shifted abruptly from under his balls, and grazed over the walnut sized head of his hard curved dick now pointed down and outward on his stretched leg, and outside the protection of the soft cotton of his briefs, exposed to the rough material, he made one last gasp effort to pry my hand from his precious virgin meat using every bit of strength he had. But when my hand slipped up at almost the same time, and my thumb and forefinger of the other hand fastened onto one his pebbled, erect tits, he lost control and slumped almost instantly, surrendering to sensations he had never felt. His legs splayed open and he lolled back, his head spinning, ready to listen to my foul mouth as I began to masturbate his sensitive prick tip with deliberate and confident strokes of my thumb.
"Oh yeah, now we’ve got it, don’t we. Now you’re OK buddy, I’m jerkin’ your tit and rubbin’ that big old fuck tip…it’s soooooo wet and gooey… You naughty boy, Marky… you’re full of cream, and you need to be milked and drained regularly like all naughty boys who are fuck crazy. No wonder you can’t bark like coach wants a coxswain to, you’re a coxswain whose got an undisciplined teenage cock… You need some supervision kid, and I’m gonna take care of this fuck stick from now on…that boy dick is going under strict cock control for the sake of the team. I’ve got an extra belt and harness with a little mesh cage I picked up in New Orleans last time I was there. I’m gonna lock these beauties of yours up, and then we’re gonna set up a schedule for chaffing that boner so that you can concentrate on your studies and your crew team discipline. Got it baby…this fucker is mine now …yeeeeaaaaaahhhh!"
Here were thirty minutes into the trip, and I was in the process of unbuttoning the kid’s fly and using a finger on the outside of his t-shirt to pinch and tug on his hard nips. For the last fifteen minutes of the trip, I just rubbed my thumb and index finger back and forth across his now exposed prick head, his angry wet dick curved out from under his stretched briefs with the throbbing tip free to my insistent rubbing. Sometimes, I would switch, using my index finger and fuck finger as a duo to baste the pre-scum against his circumcision scar in a gentle but persistent motion that every man knows will drive you wild without allowing you enough friction to ejaculate. With an occasional lick in his ear, I had that teenage horn dog forcing his dick against my fingers, hoping for some rough contact that would give him the release he craved. But no such luck. I was going to drain at least four loads out of those starch filled balls tonight. Marky was going to drip until I was ready for him to shoot crud, and I wanted him desperate for that moment, beggin’ for his teenage pork to be stewed in my hot fist or suctioning mouth.
Riles let me know indirectly that we had arrived at the outskirts of the stadium, and I whispered to the teenage dick slut to button himself up. He groaned lowly, but followed instructions. Fortunately, the army blanket kept the smell of sperm from permeating the car, but the guys knew I had been successful. They heard the little fucker’s suppressed grunts when my thumb would do dance over his corona and flange, scrubbing the exposed nerve endings of his erectile tissue.
That night, we sat at the top of the stands, most of the guys chugging their smuggled beers, and me keeping baby boy both soused and aroused. We continued to use the blanket, and I gently rubbed his long, curved boner the whole game, kneading his prick from the outside of his Levis, positioning the head outside the briefs so that the denim could occasionally chaff the tender tip.
On the way back home, I pushed little Marky’s hands behind his back and told him to keep them there. Then I lowered Boy Wonder’s jeans to the top of his walking boots, and using his own pre-sap to lube my fingers, I snaked them under his t-shirt which I tugged outta his belt loop, and did a number on his previously untouched nips. While Riles and Andrew debated the football coach’s strategy in our narrow loss, and talked trash about the big titted cheerleader who had made the cheer squad this season, I was going to town on Babycakes in the back seat. I quietly raised his sweatshirt and lowered my sloppy tongue and lips to his right tit, worrying the rounded and pebbled nub occasionally with my teeth. In the meantime, I had my right hand fuck finger tickling the sweaty portal of his defenseless anus, while my left hand continued to tickle his bloated hardon. Somewhere past the freeway junction that lead back to campus, I tightened my clasp and accelerated the pace by my thumb and forefinger on Marky’s dick knob, as my blunt, callused index finger finally breached his moist, taut, boy pussy. Then I gently nipped his turgid tit tip, and my fingers danced over his expanding prick tip. Fortunately I had stuffed a corner of the blanket in the kid’s mouth a couple of miles earlier to keep him quiet, so his helpless squeal came out like a muffled grunt. But he shot enough cum from his grossly bloated prick tip to bathe his entire crotch and chest, scum and more scum spurting out. Then for good measure, as he panted and squirmed on the back seat, I quickened the thumb scrub to make him wrench for another mile, loving the way his helpless body danced to my tune.
That night, I tied Little Lord Fauntleroy to his own bed, spread out like a stick figure. By morning, I had drained three more healthy loads from his overactive, sweaty nuts, one by hand, one by mouth, and one using both. I sucked every inch of his body, from his sexy size eight feet with their curved toes, to his fingertips, earlobes and eyes. I didn’t miss a freckle either. We played true confessions before I would give him what he had been waiting for since he was fifteen years old, and he told me everything I wanted to know. He blurted out how an older cousin had jerked him off for one whole night when they went camping when he was fifteen, and made him crawl between the older kid’s own muscular, hairy legs the next night to suck the big nine inch boner that he found there.
As my fist languidly slid up and down his betraying erection, I made him give me the details. "You wanna cum, is that it buddy boy, you want that big jizz bo to squirt again and make you feel good…well, tell all about your cuz."
He grunted as my thumb rode back and forth over his crown…"uuuuuggggghhhhhh…. Aaahhh, Jesus…pleeeezee, aaaaagggggghhhhhh, lemme cum, huh, com’on Mack, lemme fuckin’ cum again….aaaawwwww."
"You heard what I asked, I said tell me about your cuz…what else did he do besides jerk your pecker and make you suck his? Com’on now…give it up, tell me all the sick details, I wanna know what Mr. Straight Arrow did…..you dig?" My fingers rolled his tit, the cracked fingernail on my index finger, scraping across the nubile surface.
"Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhh…OK, Ok,….shit, ok,….I’ll tell ya what else I saw. He never fucked around me again….uuuuuuuggggghhhhhhhh….he just snickered a lot when I was around….and smiled that dity smile he had. He could make his big toe and third toe "kneel" like he was making the finger with his second toe. It was so long, and big, higher than his big toe. Oooohhhhhh…he’d aim it at me, and wink, like he was making a joke about making me suck he big old whang. Awwwwwwww….and he grope himself when others weren’t lookin’ and grin like he thought I wannted it."
I started to use a finger against his bung hole again, tickling and probing, using some sperm from his last cum to lube my finger as it wormed its way against his tight little fuck knot. "Nooooooo, dooooon’t Maaaaccccck…..shit, fuck, piss…..dooooooooonnnnn’t, not my shit hole….nooooo, don’t queer me….aaaaaaaagggggghhhhhh." At the same time he was grunting, I was corkscrewing my fist around his knob, distracting him so I could slip my finger just inside his hairy little anus. The moment my finger slid in, he squealed and pleaded, and I told him to tell me more, or I’d finger bang him all night.
"Oh Jesus Mack….ok, ok, Oh Jesus, take it out, take it out…man….aaaaagggghhhhh….it feels so weird, it feels aaaaaaawwwww….shit, it feels so weird….OK, OK,…I’ll tell ya…I’ll tell ya…. One night, I was watching him horse around with my other cousins. They were thirteen and twelve, a couple a towheads from Iowa, visiting with the family at the cabin. He agreed to take care of them so the grown ups could go out to dinner at a neighbors camps site. Aaaaaaggghhhh, not so deeeeeeep Mack….pull it out a ways….pull it out…..uuuuuughhhhhhh shit…..oh, that feels so strange when ya touch that spot….aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh." The little fuck head started grinding his butt down on my finger while I returned to the slow slide on his baby-maker, keepin’ that sweet bone primed and slick for a good maulin’.
"Keep talkin’ you dick brain….tell me what happened."
"Oooooooohhhhhhh, oh, yeah Mack…..what’re ya doing…..oooooohhhhhh, that feels so weird, so good…….aaaaaaaaggggghhhhhhh….well, my cuz got the little turds to play spy with him. He let ‘em tie him up after he wrestled around with ‘em…and he had squeezed their little boy dicks and got them all hard and horny. When they tied him down, they unzipped his shorts and you should’ve seen the little fuckers go. They both spit on their little fists and took turns jerkin’ his big hard meat, pulling it this way and that, letting it slap against his stomach, bending it and tickling it. He howled with pleasure, swearing and saying dirty things to ‘em like ‘stop playin’ with my prick you faggots, aaaaaahhhhhhh…fuck….what’ll I get my hands on you….Jesus, not my dick head….aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh….’ But they just laughed and kept milkin’ his boner, which got all wet and sticky….oooooohhhhh jeeeeezzz Mack….your finger is killin’ me….uuuughhhh! Then one of the little shitheads pulled off his crew socks, and started tickling his big feet while they played with his pecker."
"UUUUuuuuuggggghhhh, yeah Mack, keep touchin’ me there….yeah that feels soooooooo goooooood…..aaaaaggggghhhhh…. Well my cuz didn’t expect ‘em to start to ticklin’ him, so he kinda lost control. Well one just took a tooth brush to his feet while the other started kneadin’ his dick good, and in a couple of minutes my cuz was shootin crud all over the room…..oooooooooohhhhhhh…Mack….don’t tease me….man, pleeezzzeee, please, I need to cum….aaaaaawwwww….Well the little punks just kept playin’ with his dick, and I’ll be damned if they didn’t work another load outta him and then made him suck both their little six inch wands until they shot their loads. I jerked off so hard, I shot cum over my head. Then they let him up….and he cursed and yelled at ‘em, but nobody was mad. I kept seein’ them making fun with him for the rest of the trip, and I knew he was fucking around with them…but I didn’t see them again. OK, now, Mack….lemme cum, man, I told ya….I told ya what ya wanted….pleeeze, lemme shoot my shit!"
Marky said he was amazed at home much his older cousin could cum, and how much fun his thirteen year old cousins had milking the huge bone, rubbing their tight little fists over his sensitive dick head. He said from then on, he wanted someone to tie him up and milk his dick but he was too scared to say anything cause he thought guys would thick he was queer. Then I got him to recount how in high school he discovered by accident that some college guy would hang around the high school field house lockerroom in the late afternoons, and suck any dick that needed to be drained. He watched one afternoon while a linebacker on the football team got his dick licked and his tits pinched and kind of let this guy have his way with him in one of the stalls. After that, he waited until he could be alone with the guy in the john. He walked in barefoot, and waited till the guy finally slipped his hand under the stall and started feelin’ up his legs. He let the guy suck his toes for a while, and eventually pull him down to the floor. He wouldn’t let the guy into the stall, but on two different occasions he had slid his legs under the partitions his senior year, when no one else was around and he thought it was safe, and let the hot, wet mouth work him over. He said he came so hard, the kid never stopped sucking until he had blown another load, especially when the kid reached under his balls to tickle his anal knot or slipped a hand under the partition to pull at his tits. He had to pry his aching schlong from the voracious kid’s maw, the cocksucker was so determined to eat his jizz. Finally, he admitted that he frigged his big boy boner against the sheets every couple of days to try and relieve the constant tension in his man sized, sweaty testicles, praying that he would meet someone else to relieve him.
This last confession came as I had his legs tethered up near his head, knees bent and feet secured to one of my Lacrosse sticks so I could stroke and suck his toes as I felt like it. In the end, as he babbled his story, I was swirling my fist up and down his unrepentant erection, my fist sliding up and down lubricated by my slurping tongue and lips, a finger gently rooting around in his perfect, hairy asshole, spread wide open for ease of penetration. Oh these freshman boys, so full of spunk and so ready to shoot it...they’re fuckin’ everywhere.
Now-a-days Marky is a perfect crew jock. Tough and silent, but not brooding or shy anymore. He’s locked into his mesh cock cage every day, so he can piss in private, but can’t get to those boy boners any more. In fact his cock can only just barely get erect, and then it’s too painful to do anything else or reach the expanded moment of ejaculation. He’s horny a lot, which keeps him focused. He knows that we have a milking schedule for those over-ripe nuts of his. Sometimes I make his suck himself off, two maybe three times in a row, tehtered down while I worry his tits or finger frig his hole. Other times I do the honors. Like Riley, he’s masturbated any time, any place that suits my fancy and is within the schedule. One of my favorites is to truss him up, and pull that boner down so I can use my little brush on his fat, wide piss lips and circumcision scar. I can work the best cums from him, and get him to talk as nasty as I want.
A friend in electrical engineering has helped me make a neat little remote control ass prod. It’s slender, and only about three inches long, gently curved like a scimitar to easily slip up the rectum. Used with the harness and padlock, it compliments the cock cage on Marky. And if I coat it with the cream I got from Mexico, it’s like having a swarm of mosquitoes nibbling along the lining of his rectum and up to his whorish prostrate. Jesus, I love to watch him talking with friends or a girl, and suddenly see his toes curl in his flip-flops, or see his eyes suddenly squeeze shut for a moment or hear his gasp and try to cover it up with some garbled excuse. He knows I’m nearby cause I’ve just activated the remote and sent a silent hummmm buzzing up his asshole, ringing against his fuck nut, making his cock erect painfully in his mesh prison, hidden from everyone but me. He knows to look for me, and we’ll retire into a john or some custodial closet for me to frig him for a while, to unbutton his shirt and suck or pinch or scratch his attentive titties, and them re-fit him with his cage and send him on is way, unrelieved.
Nothing like getting old Marky to pull his pants down to his ankles, life his legs up to his chest, and ask permission to remove his little boy buzzer for my inspection…to ensure that he’s keeping his ass clean. I also inspect toes, pits, navels (no lint), and nuts. And often, just for the sake of his discipline, I make the little horny toad play with his own prick, sucking his fingers to roll his tits and frig just his sensitive dick head. Fuck, I love to hear him plead, while his pants and briefs are around his ankles, his legs splayed wide, and his shirt pushed up so he can roll those succulent hard nips…"please, Mack…..aaaaaaahhhhhhhh…..jeeeeeeeessssssus, pleeeeeezzzzzeeeee! I gotta cum , lemme cum, please. I’ve been good, I’ve done everything you asked…. Aaaww, fuck, Mack, I’m so close…so hard…..lemme shoot…I’ll even lick it up…I’ll suck your dick…your toes, your asshole…right now if you want….anything….just pleeeeeezzzzze lemmme shoot my wad!"
But I remind him that freshman need to learn control. I can’t have him take over the boat when I graduate next year unless he’s completely under control. Then I pry his sticky fingers from the dick knob, and make him pull back up his brifs and jeans while his crooked cock is throbbing and pulsing, dripping teenage pre-sap. He also has to re-insert his little prod and safely lock it in place, to await its next order.
I think soon, I’ll reward Markland’s efforts with a chance to work over Riles one night. I’ll let him see how much responsibility he’ll have as varsity coxswain, and how much fun it can be to manage one of these big goofballs…and I do mean manage their balls. When I give this kid the bristle glove and turn him loose on Riley’s huge rod, he’ll be like a starving man getting his firt meal…especially when he learns that Riles helped me set him up the first night. He’ll get to play the role his little cousins had with his older cousin, milking the dickwad till he begs. I think I’ll make sure old Riley gets lots of rest, cause that kids’ gonna drain him dry! OOOOhhhhhh… YEAH! Just thinking about that makes me wanna go and jerk-off.