Pride Story

Sweet Agony of Defeat

Urban Meyer sat, legs spread and shoulders slumped in the cold metal
folding chair. The University of Florida head football coach hadn't
bothered to turn on the lights to his office, so the only
illumination of a flickering fluorescent hallway light shone through
the door's window. The Auburn and LSU games had both been major
upsets, and Meyer didn't deal with upsets well. He was too used to
winning, or at least losing only in the post season. The defeat to
the Tigers tonight wasn't how it was supposed to happen. How
different it had been at the end of last season, he thought. Hell,
the memory was still fresh, and as Urban closed his eyes he could
see it all as if it were in front of him. The university president's
office, the large desk, the beaming administrator cooing words of
delight as Urban sat back and soaked it up. Christ, he could still
smell the leather and mahogany. The coach had sauntered in, dressed
in his Sunday best, and plopped his butt down in the swivel chair.
Before he could loosen his tie, the president had a bourbon and soda
in Urban's hand. With his other, the coach reached in his left suit
jacket pocket and extracted a fine, extra-wide cigar. He snipped the
tip and lit up. The president's smile turned to an admonishing
frown. "C'mon coach, you know you can't smoke in here. It's against
university policy." Meyer sucked in a deep puff, savoring the heft
of the tobacco's flavor, then blew out the smoke. "Whaddya gonna do,
sir? Fire your star coach? I earned this cigar and you damned well
know it." He took another puff, his thin lips puckering around the
wettened tip. "In case you didn't notice, my boys brought you about
another bucketload of alum donations. I'm guessing 80 grand for the
last game alone." The president, a man of 50 years with an
appearance half mousy, half imposing, tossed up his hands and
laughed. "All right, all right, Coach. I know who's running the
show," he said, only partly joking. "That's more like it," Meyer
laughed. He was feeling good, the combination of power, booze, and
spreading horniness peaking in perfect sync. Casually, he cupped his
heavy crotch and said in a raspy, bourbon soaked voice, 'speaking of
running your show, I'm expecting you're keeping up your side of the
bargain." The president tried to hold a blank face, but a blink and
a tightening of the corners of his mouth betrayed anxiety. He gulped
down the saliva in his mouth and said quietly, "I was hoping you'd
forget that." Urban's gaze penetrated his boss's, cold, angry, and
challenging. "You're not backing out on me, are you, sir?" The man
shook his head. "I'm a man of my word." Gesturing to the door on the
west flank of the office suite, he added, "The boys are in there."
Urban's grimace morphed into a wide smile as he hefted his coach
frame from the chair and set down his empty glass. "Thanks, boss,"
he said before pushing open the heavy wood door. Fuck! The spoils of
victory. This is what it's all about, Coach Meyer thought. Before
him sat two young men, both two weeks shy of their 21st birthday.
They were too lithe to fit into the beefy, corn-fed type that Meyer
was normally surrounded by, but were jockier and better developed
than even the average college student. Firm, sculpted muscle showed
beneath their fraternity shirts, their cute faces half-obscured by
the bills of their baseball caps. Coach eyed the ripples of their
firm six-packs and admired the pointy nipples forming little
erections underneath the boys' shirts. He sucked on his cigar and
grunted as he felt his cock twitch to hardness in his trousers. The
president's twin sons always had that effect on him. "If it's not my
favorite fans, Mike and Matt," Coach bellowed. "Though don't expect
me to remember which one of you is which. I can never tell you
handsome studs apart." Even beneath the bills of their caps, two
pearly white smiles showed through. They stood and scooted toward
their idol. One of the men removed his ball cap in deference,
smoothing back his short but unkempt dirty blonde hair. Sparkling
green eyes greeted Urban's appreciative stare. His brother repeated
the gesture. Two gorgeous, buffed college men, carbon copies stood,
waiting expectantly. "We didn't think Dad was going to bring us in
today," the one on the left said. "Yeah," the other brother
continued without a beat missed. "He got really freaked out after
that time last year." Meyer set down his cigar on the edge of an
endtable so he could clasp a hand on each boy's shoulder. "What
about you fellas? What do you men think?" The twin on the right
shrugged. "Hell, sir. It's cool. You know, there are hundred of guys
on this campus, well they might not say it but they'd be honored to
give you a little personal thanks for what you've done for our
team." Meyer didn't look down but he felt one of the boy's hands on
his cock, massaging the firm shaft through his pant
material. "Yeah?" Meyer was eating this up. "Yessir," the other
brother continued. "Maybe we can hook you up with some of our
fraternity brothers." "Shit, bro, he wouldn't make it out of the
house without being drained dry." "Coach Meyer, dry? Man, do you
remember how much this guy shot last time?" "I should. You freakin'
smelled like his spunk for days, man." "Fuck you! I wasn't the one
wearing coach's underwear for two weeks straight." Coach was getting
off on the playful fraternal spat developing before his eyes. An
idea came to him. "Kiss!" he ordered. The two brothers froze and
looked at Urban questioningly. "Hear what I said? I want to see you
two kiss each other. Now." "But sir," one offered meekly, "We
haven't actually kissed before." "Hell we haven't done anything with
each other before." "Yeah, he's my brother, and well..." "... You're
not gonna make us, are ya, Coach?" Meyer stepped back from the two
young men. He picked up his cigar and put it back in his
mouth. "Sons, if I'm not happy, your daddy's not happy. And if your
daddy's not happy..." He didn't finish the sentence, but just stood
and let the room's silence envelop them. The twins stood next to
each other nervously. They exchanged glances, tried to communicate
silently. Coach could feel the hesitation and it made him super
hard. He watched in expectation as the two brothers turned to each
other, as their arms fumbled around each other, and as faces drew
close til their noses touched. "Man, this is so friggin'
weird." "Yeah, I can feel your breath on my face." "Maybe if we
pretend we're kissing ourselves instead of each other." "Yeah." The
two boys shut their eyes and turned their heads slightly to press
parched lips to one another. They stood like that for a half minute,
hesitant, shy. Finally, one brother ran his tongue along the hot,
dry lips of his twin. The two lips parted, and the tongue came out
to touch his companion's. Soon, the boys were frenching, in full
view of the school's head coach. "Goddamn," Coach muttered. He
unbuckled his belt and proceeded to peel off his trousers, till he
stood naked from waist down to the black dress socks hugging his
hairy calves. His prick surged high, long, and wet. The twins took
a breath and opened their eyes. "Wow," one said. "Yeah. Wow." "I got
a confession, bro. It wasn't me I pictured myself kissing. It was
you." "Me, too." The two met again in hot, sloppy liplock, their
passion now released. Hands caressed muscle and pulled at clothing,
jaws ground intense kisses. Now Coach Meyer stood beside
them. "Ahem. Didn't your daddy teach you boys to share?" The two
brothers broke their kiss and smiled at the coach, spittle covering
their mouths and chins. "Yessir!" Urban kissed one stud, then the
other, alternating, going back and forth like he was at a buffet and
he couldn't choose what he wanted. "Damn, Coach! You're friggin
hard as steel." One of the brothers said while Coach kissed the
other. A firm grasp pulled on his erection, sending waves of
pleasure through the older man. Ten seconds later, that pulling was
replaced by the moist, warm suction of an eager mouth. Meyer moaned
mid-kiss and with his right hand he gripped the cocksucker's head
and pulled it firmly onto his crotch. He liked his mouth penetration
deep. Meanwhile, the other brother was flicking open the buttons of
Urban's dress shirt, undoing his tie, and feeling the exposed hard
hairy chest. "Fuck, Coach," the young man said into Meyer's ear as
he eased back from the masterful tongue job the man was giving his
oral cavity. "You turn me on big time, you know. It's not just duty
for my school, or cause Dad tells me to. It's... you... I just want
to take care of you, make you shoot the biggest nut you ever
shot." "Jeez, son," coach answered. "You know how to push my buttons
dontcha?" "Yessir. And another thing. I'm a much better dicksucker
than my brother." Meyers eyes opened in recognition as he took in
the gorgeous, face in front of him, its boy-next-door qualities
tempered only by the not so virginal look of lust in the young man's
eyes. "You must be Matt," Coach said simply. The young man nodded
and laughed. "I thought you couldn't tell us apart." "I can't,"
Urban stifled a groan as Matt's fingers twisted his erect
nipple. "At least not by sight." Looking down, he gripped Mike's
bobbing head and slowly extracted it off his turgid manroot. "Take a
breather, son. Your brother Matt here's gonna show us his sword-
swallowing act." Mike moved to the side as Matt scooted in place,
submissive and kneeling before the Coach. "Jesus and Mary!" Meyer
cried out as he experienced an A-grade blow job, first shallow, then
deep, first slow, then intense, first controlled, then wild. Mike
stood up and peeled off his clothes. This kid had one hot body,
Urban thought as they met in a kiss, in a reverse of the setup five
minutes ago. He took the occasion to run his hand along the guy's
hard, warm body. As he felt Coach's hand glide along his asscheeks,
deep in to the heat of his trench, Mike spoke. "Sorry I don't suck a
better dick, Coach. Is there anything else I can do for you?" "Yeah.
Eat my ass out." Mike nodded in affirmation but paused. "Never done
that before, so I'm probably not gonna be good at that either."
Coach never shied away from breaking in a rookie. "It's easy son,
just dive nose first into that trench and start licking til you find
my manhole. Keep licking and doing whatever feels right. The rest
will come to you naturally." "OK, Coach," Mike was still
unsure. "You trust me?" "Trust you, Coach." "Good. Now get down
there and munch butt." Urban hissed as the sensations rumbled in his
groin. Matt was going to town, deep throating his steel-rigid cock.
His brother Mike was lapping away like a starved kitten. Meyer was
right: the kid was quickly becoming a buttmunching natural. "Coach".
Coach!" a throaty voice whispered, breaking Meyer's reverie. He was
snapped back to the present, sitting still surrounded by
darkness. "Coach, want me to turn on the lights?" "Nah, Tebow.
Can't you see I'm thinking?" The sound of cleats resounded in the
cinderblock room. Urban looked up and saw in the shadows his
quarterback's massive 6'4" 235 pound powerhouse body. No shirt, no
pads, just his football pants, socks and cleats. Build like some
goddamned hulking buffalo. Meyer's emotions swirled. The coach felt
sympathy for his star player. Here he was supposed to be the
example, the sportsman and instead he was off sulking in his office
when he should be talking his boys through this. He felt a paternal
pride in Tim, who even as a sophomore was a stand up man who knew
how to take a licking like a pro. Most of all, the hard prick he'd
been nursing in his khakis the last twenty minutes burped a dollop
of precum. Tebow was just the thing he needed right now. And he
wanted to see his athlete in full glory. "All right, turn on the
light, Tim." Fully lit, that body was even more magnificent. Urban
eyed the meaty chest, big round smooth pectorals peaked with fat
vascular nipples, wandering his eye up Tim's bullneck til he took in
the buzzcut jock face that glowed with adrenaline even in the
aftermath of the team's loss. "Sorry to chew you guys out earlier.
You played your heart out. We just gotta fine tune the team for next
week." Tim padded around til he stood above his coach. He squatted
down til he straddled Meyer. "It's OK, Coach. We need to be reminded
we can do better." The player's arms rested on his coach's firm
shoulders. Urban smirked. "Aren't you a little old to be sitting in
daddy's lap?" His hands went up to rub the smooth, exposed sweaty
muscle of Tebow's massive torso. Plump, ripe muscle, sticky with the
evaporated sheen of sweat. Tim ground his uniform clad butt into
Meyer's excited crotch. "You weren't complaining last week," he
answered before placing his lips against the man old enough to be
his father. Both men parted lips and savored the moistness of
empassioned, dueling tongues. Meyer wrapped his arms around Tim's
meaty frame. The bulging lats and delts felt just as hard and
fantastic as the kid's power chest. "Fuck, Tim, let's see if we can
break the chair like last week." "Yessir," Tim replied, starting to
unlace his uniform pants. Meyer seized the cup and inhaled. The
scent was more potent then poppers, making his dick ramrod stiff.
Coach moaned as his quarterback massaged his stiff spike. Tebow
unzipped his coach. The heated, moist cockskin felt wonderful in his
meaty palm. His fingers slipped over the dick dew that spouted from
the tip and ran the full length, slickening up the stalk. Leaning
over, he let a trail of spittle fall from his panting mouth to the
erect cock. "That gonna be enough, Tebow?" "Yessir. Your cock's
wetter than last week," He gripped the saliva moist cock in his firm
grasp and twisted his hand down to the root. "Is that OK with you,
Coach? I gotta fucked and soon." "Sure, Tim, sure. I just was hoping
for a chance to eat out that juicy hamhock ass of yours." Tebow
smiled wide. "Aw, you will Coach. After the first fuck. It'll be
even juicier then." Meyer felt his sensitive prickhead press deep
into the valley of those perfect Tebow buns. Superheated, superhard
muscle, with the crackhairs dripping in postgame sweat. He felt the
sphincter pulse against his rod, then the firm pressure,
then... "Ummph!" Tebow let out as his inner thighs quivered and his
frame lowered onto Meyer's turgid rod. A look of steely
determination filled his sweat-dewed face. Meyer thought back to
the number of times the commentators noted how Tebow never whinced
when hit on the field. It's true, this sophomore was built tough.
The kid's countenance never broke. As Urban looked up into his
players face, his own pulse pounded. Tebow looked down in such
trust, such submission, such animal sexuality. Tim leaned down til
their noses touched. "Aw, coach, that's it, scratch that spot deep
in there. Fuck yeah." Mouths opened, tongues touched, and two men
bonded in a deeper level, beyond coach and player. They kissed as
Tebow humped up and down. The office filled with the sounds of the
metal chair rattling, the muffled groans of the men, and the sweaty
slaps of flesh-on-flesh contact. The sensation of Urban's blue and
orange knit shirt against his tender, aching boner was too much for
Tebow. The oversized player swiveled his hips doubletime, maximizing
the sensations both in front and back. The resulting orgasm was
magnificent, and both men grunted as Tim's seed soiled Meyer's
shirt. Urban, too, lost it. He gripped his player's pectoral mass
and held tight as his nuts jet propulsed their salvo deep into
Tebow's private territory. "Fuck, Tebow. You know how to make your
coach shoot big." Tim smiled as he continued to grind his ass into
that magnificent Meyer dick. He sucked in air and tried to guess how
much sperm was now swimming around his rearranged insides. "I'll
say, Coach," he smiled. Tebow started to lift off the cumslick coach
dick, savoring the width and hardness. Nearing the top he held
still. The hardon quivered at the entrance of his rectum. Tim paused
and looked quizzically into Meyer's steely eyes. "Damn, Coach, you
up for another?" The QB saw the look of quiet affirmation in Meyer's
face, then slowly, hungrily, started his descent back down the
powerful wet cock. As Tebow's granite globes pressed into Meyer's
unzipped crotch, and the coach wondered if defeat was such a bad
thing after all. ******** A few hundred miles away, Georgia head
coach Mark Richt was in the visitor's locker room at Tennessee. The
defeat tonight had been brutal, but he'd almost forgotten that by
now. Right there, under the watchful eye of several starting
offensive linemen, he stood, khakis down, shirt peeled back, as he
stood between the spread legs of UGA quarterback Matthew Stafford
and thrusted away. This was favorite position for his fuckee to be
in: face down, legs spread, making that musclerump seem even
rounder, if that was possible. Richt looked down and marveled at the
sight of his bloated, hardened bludgeon squeezing into that tight
crevice and deep beneath, into that tight hole. Stafford had just
enough hair in his crack and along the perineum to give Richt and
extra sensation as he buried deep: he knew the player could feel his
own crotch and leg hair scratching his inner thighs and
ass. "Punish that loser, Coach," one of the Tennessee players
snarled. Stafford grunted as Mark began corkscrewing his sensitive
bowels, churning his insides til he swore a fine froth of clear
succulent assjuices and coach precum was forming around where his
assring clung unsuccessfully to that pistoning Richt cock. Mark
Richt smiled to himself. He'd lost the bet with Fulmer, but the
price was screwing the QB while the entire Volunteer offensive line
watched and talked trash. True, the Georgia coach wasn't used to an
audience, or the barrage of filthy insults. But the seasoned SEC-er
was quite at home between Stafford's spread thighs. Maybe he didn't
screw the boy quite as roughly in their after practice sessions, but
Matthew was squirming in ways that his coach knew meant he was
enjoying the hard pounding. To top it off, some of the UT players
began to blow. If Richt doubted these guys' virility, after the
whopping they gave the Bulldogs, he sure didn't now. The first
ejaculation alone was one for the record books. Thick, hot spray of
jizz, meted out over ten or eleven jets. Then another athlete shot,
a wide receiver. His aim was perfect and square between the shoulder
blades, and soon Richt felt a pint of slime trickle right down his
spine, into his hairy asscrack. "Damn, Fulmer, what are you feeding
these boys?" The Tennessee coach sat in a chair and watched as
voyeur. He laughed at Richt's surprise. "Three mega shakes daily.
Raw egg, peanut butter, and protein powder." He rubbed his cock and
watched as another of his players nutted all over his rival and
friend's backside. "Makes their cream nice and rich and sweet, too.
You should have a taste, coach," he taunted. "Yeah," Tennessee
quarterback Erik Ainge said, stepping up to the perverted sight of a
grown man drowning in football varsity player sperm. His wide
throwing hands raked through the man muck, spreading the warm seed,
massaging it into the man's curved, hard muscle, and working up the
fresh protein into a froth. He looked at his hands, slick and white,
then reached around to offer the magic potion to the middle-aged
satyr in midfuck. "Feeding time, Mr. Richt." "Ah, goddamn it," Mark
muttered before his words were lost in the chokes of hungry, nasty
slurping sounds. Like a homing device, Erik's dick pried its way
past the older man's hairy buns and found its way to Richt's
quivering asshole, defenses down. He pushed into that moist, hot top
man butt. "Fucking A!" he wept in joy as he savored a fuck he'd
dreamed about since junior year recruiting season. Richt was caught
off guard but had to admit the kid knew what he was doing. That
plunger QB cock was already doing a number on his insides. He held
on tight to Stafford and felt eight good pulses of Richt seed spurt
involuntarily into the athlete's bowels. The coach breathed deep
and tried to hold onto the magnificent sensations coursing through
his body. Ainge pressed his hard body against the man's back. Damn,
if the college kid didn't have hard, scratchy chest hair, but Richt
loved the feeling. "Don't worry coach, we'll turn the tables back in
my dorm room. I still haven't forgotten about last time." ********
NEARLY THREE MONTHS LATER Tim Tebow lay supine in a darkened Orlando
hotel room. The bathroom light shone to illuminate his splayed meaty
body on the king sized bed. The pillow was still wet from his tears.
He'd tried so hard to take the loss to Michigan like a man, but he'd
wanted to win SO bad and to see victory clutched from Gator hands in
the final two minutes of the game had been too much. His hopes were
dashed, his pride was hurt, and most of all his smack-talking before
the game had gotten him on the losing side of a bet. At least Coach
knew how to soothe him. The father figure ran his hands along the
smooth swell of Tebow's back muscle as he knelt down between the
athletes legs and pressed his face deep into the big, warm brawny
ass. Tim moaned and Urban shivered as the coach's wide tongue swiped
the sensitive hairy trench. Meyer went wild and started slurping and
munching, his mouth and nose nearly smothered by hot wet butt
muscle. Tim ground his crotch into the hotel bed and hiked his
backside into his coach's visage so hard that Meyer had to gain a
good grip After about ten minutes, Meyer backed off enough to speak,
his voice gravely and out of breath. "Don't worry about a thing,
Tebow. Coach is gonna get you ready. Just hold tight." "Aw, you had
me ready at the first lick, Coach. But don't stop, man, I could take
this all night" "So could I, buddy" Coach laughed, "So could I."
Then he proceeded to get back to asslicking duty. Neither heard the
door open. "Ahem!" The two men on the bed jerked to, startled.
Standing in the doorway to the suite's bedroom was winning QB Chad
Henne. His short, even-length hair and chestnut-brown stubble made
him even more imposing and masculine a figure, while his navy-blue
Michigan sweatpants and white team T shirt made the bulky swells of
muscle that much more impressive. "I hear there's some Heisman ass
here for the taking," he smirked, kicking off his running shoes and
tossing his watch and wallet onto a table. Tebow fumed, sitting up
and balling his fist instinctively, til he took a second to look
Henne over. He hated defeat, but at least he lost to a worthy
adversary. And the Pennsylvania-bred quarterback was one real, dyed-
in-the-wool hunk. Best of all was a huge club of an erection poking
up and to the right in Chad's sweats. That's what Coach was talking
about, trying to warn him. Tebow hadn't believed Henne's pregame
boasts, but now that the Michigan player was peeling off his pants,
Tim surveyed the man's genitals and slowly wrapped his head around
the fact that he was gonna get fucked by a donkey dick. Even at its
early stages of erection, Henne hung low and superfat beneath a
full, hairy ball sac. "It's OK, Coach," Tim reassured Meyer. "A
bet's a bet." He flipped on his back and spread his thick thighs
lewdly, exposing his hot, spitmoist crevice and pucker. Chad
whistled. "Like we said?" he half asked to confirm, half
declared, "First time a quickie, the second for the long haul."
Tebow nodded and gulped. "How long are we talking about?" "That's
for me to decide, isn't it?" he sneered as his removed T shirt his
the floor. Already his prick was on the way to a massive hardon. "I
can tell ya I got real staying power. Fucked Rodriguez two hours
during his job visit." He pitched Meyer some lube. "Coach, why
don't you be a sport and lube your player up? And if you want you
can blow me before I pound Tebow into tomorrow." Meyer didn't want
to do it. He didn't want to let Tim see him submit to that Henne
cock. But the fat, dry cockhead prodded against his lips and he just
opened his mouth up and got his gullet stuffed. "Damn, Coach!" Tebow
exclaimed, "I can hear your dick smack your belly double
time!" "Just wait til your ass gets a go at it, Tebow," Henne said
as he settled back legs spread and let Urban Meyer suck dick.