“You’re barely eating, are you feeling alright?” My mom was hovering, standing next to my chair, hand on a hip, staring concernedly at the waffle on my plate. I hadn’t taken more than two bites, if that and she’d noticed.
“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine,” I said unconvincingly, taking a third, small bite. “I just uh… third day jitters?” Of course, it being the third day of classes had literally nothing to do at all with my loss of appetite. No, instead, I simply couldn’t get the previous evening out of my head: Tom, nude, standing right in front of me, my mouth around his cock, sucking and not doing an especially great job of it. If I thought about it, I could still taste his cum, and feel the warm stickiness of it sliding down my throat. Even all of that wasn’t the main problem, but rather, my reaction, or lack of one. What I mean is, I hadn’t hated it. I can’t say that I liked it, especially, being forced more or less to go down on a guy, but it wasn’t the repulsive act I thought it would be. That was what occupied my mind the next morning.
“Well, if you’re fine, you should be eating then,” my mom countered, unconvinced that I was alright.
“You know what? Actually, I need to run. Parking is a bitch so you have to get there early.” I got up quickly, leaving my waffle.
“Language, young man!” my mom called after me as I bolted for the door.
I was strongly considering not even going to practice after class, thinking that I’d skip this one, then find Coach and tell him I changed my mind. Maybe that I didn’t actually have time, or didn’t think I was catching on, or something. Obviously not the truth. Never the truth. Something also wanted me to just get it over with, rip off the bandage, show up, tell him I was out, and be done with it. I think that was what I eventually decided to do, because that afternoon, I again stood on the sidelines, watching the players pass and tackle and run drills.
Tom was there, of course. I couldn’t tell if he realized I was there; we didn’t make eye contact or anything, and he was busy. Not that I especially wanted any kind of attention from him, just mentioning that I didn’t get any odd looks from him during practice. Everything was essentially normal, and when practice ended, everyone filed past without even a glance in my direction.
That was good. Maybe that meant that last night had happened, but was in the past, and we’ll just move on from there. I could live with that, and eventually the memory and the questions would fade. Life would go on.
Even just from one practice, a football team generates a lot of laundry. There’s a jersey, pants, socks, jock straps, one from each player. Plus, towels, sweat bands, and a few other various things. As equipment manager, it was my job to collect and wash all of it and have it ready for the next day. The college owned an industrial washing machine and kept it in a small room off of the locker room. I was just stuffing the second load in when the door opened.
“Hey, Ben, right? You’re the new equipment manager?” A steady voice came from behind me, several steps away. I think I stiffened for a second, out of surprise and sudden flashbacks. “Whoa, you alright?” the voice asked.
“Yeah, sorry, you just snuck up on me,” I said, maybe a little shakily. With the laundry in the washer, I turned to find a tall, broad figure taking up most of the doorway. His right arm was up above his head, braded against the frame, and he leaned to that side a little. “And yeah, Ben. Equipment manager,” I confirmed.
“How’s it going?” he said, stepping into the room and extending his hand, which I took. “Avery Tucker. I’m the quarterback.” Of course, I knew that, but just nodded and said that it was nice to meet him. “How do you like it so far?” he asked, glancing past me to the full and running washing machine and dryer.
“Oh, I like it so far,” I half-lied. “There’s a lot to do, but it’s not too difficult.”
“Good, good,” Avery said with a nod. “You’ve met some of the guys already, I hear.” I froze, not sure how to respond. “You’re making a good impression, so I wanted to meet you myself.” I felt my eyebrows lower. “So, lots to do, hm?” he asked, suddenly changing the subject.
“Yeah,” I replied with a nod. “Inventory, small repairs, laundry. I have a feeling it might be a lot to keep up with as the season goes on.”
“I’ve heard it can be,” Avery agreed. “You might even wind up with a few extra little… oh, ‘chores’ you could say.”
I swallowed. “What… do you mean?”
At this point Avery turned, without answering, stepping toward the door and giving it a nudge until it shut with a click. He then turned again, back to me, and closed the distance between us, leaving no more than a couple of feet. “I don’t want to be indelicate,” he started, and I felt my stomach sink, “but I’m aware of what happened yesterday.”
“I… uh…” I took a step backward. “I can’t say that I know what you mean…”
“Yes, you do,” Avery insisted with considerable confidence. Whatever he knew, or thought he knew, he was sure of it. “Tom showed me the video. All of us, actually.”
If my stomach had sunk a moment ago, it dropped to the floor now. “I… I don’t… what video?” I stammered, my mind desperately grasping for something -anything- to counter with.
“The one where you were sitting on the bench out there,” he aimed his thumb toward the door, and the locker room beyond, “gobbling down Tom’s cock.”
Fuck.
Fuck fuck… he knew. The all knew. “Tom… said that he wouldn’t show anyone,” I protested helplessly.
“Actually,” Avery countered, “he never did. You asked him to promise, but he didn’t answer. I can get you a copy of the video if you want to check it yourself.”
I blinked in disbelief. Was that right? Had Tom never actually said he wouldn’t show anyone? Or had I just… hoped? “S… so. What? Is this like… more blackmail or something?” If I couldn’t lie my way out of this, maybe if I became confrontational…
“No,” Avery answered with a chuckle. “No not really. It’s… well, an offer.”
I shook my head as though I’d been slapped. “An offer? What…?”
“Here’s the thing. People who play sports, people who coach sports, people who bet on sports, we all tend to be a little… superstitious. We have our lucky shirts, or our lucky ritual like trying to touch the ceiling on the way out to the field. You ever heard of that kind of stuff?” I had no clue where this was going, but nodded slowly. “Yesterday during practice, Tom kept missing tackles, which is very not good for a linebacker. He fumbled passes and, honestly, was just not keeping up. Today though? Took down every single person he went after and must have put glue on his hands because he never dropped the ball once.” I shook my head a little, indicating that I wasn’t following. “You were his good luck charm, Ben,” Avery concluded. “Whatever you did, however you did it, you got him into shape for today.”
That all just sounded ridiculous to me, and I said so. “I don’t see… how… OK we both know what I did, but like… it couldn’t have…”
Avery cut me off and spared me the complexities of trying to say that I didn’t think that the lackluster blowjob I’d accomplished the evening before had been in any way responsible for the improvement in Tom’s playing. “Something worked, and that was all that happened out of the ordinary. So, I mentioned an opportunity.” This couldn’t be going where it seemed to be… “I want to see what happens if you… um… provide that service for the rest of the team. Most of my guys are good, but everybody could stand to improve. If you did whatever you do, for all of them… all of us… well who knows?”
I think the room began to spin. “Wait,” I stopped him, holding up a hand. “You want me to, what, provide blowjobs for the whole team? Before each practice or something? That’s… impossible. No. That was a one-time thing, and only because he threatened to show my mom a video of… something else…”
“Of you jerking off, yeah I’ve seen that one too.” God damn it. “And no, I’m not saying every player, every practice or every game.” God, I hadn’t even thought about games. “Just anyone who needs a little pick-me-up. And, you know, it’s not like there wouldn’t be… perks.” I tilted my head, again lowering my eyebrows. “You don’t see the benefits of having a whole football team as friends? Nobody would ever bother you again. You’d get invited to all of the parties, meet all kinds of people, of girls even.”
“And all I have to do is suck some dick a couple of times a day,” I added sarcastically.
“Right, exactly,” Avery confirmed with a nod. “Plus… I mean. Most of us wouldn’t just, you know, leave you hanging.” That caught my attention most, for some reason. “Yeah, you heard right. You take care of us, we’ll take care of you.” My stomach picked itself up off the floor for a second and did a little flip.
“I’m sorry, could you be a little more…”
“Specific?” Avery finished for me. “If you need me to be. As an example, you suck me off, I’ll suck you off.” Well, there it was, out in the open, plain as day. “Why don’t we try it?” Before I could even reply, to protest and tell him that I wasn’t sure any of this was a good idea, Avery was already undressing.
All of the guys showered after practice, Avery (and Tom for that matter) included, and always changed into normal street clothes. Avery had done exactly that, now looking every bit the preppy college athlete in a blue and white striped polo, and khaki pants. He himself was tall, taller than Tom, with a crop of sandy blonde hair that he kept short. Like Tom, Avery’s face was everything that ‘masculine’ could be, although not as harsh. Honestly, he could have stepped right out of a Calvin Klein magazine.
Avery’s body only continued the impression of a fit fashion model, as he pulled the polo up and over his head, dropping it on the metal foldup chair to the side. His chest was chiseled, pecs and abs prominent, skin still perfectly tanned from the summer. I couldn’t see any body hair, though guessed that his might be like mine: very light and sparse.
Avery hooked his thumbs into his pants, drawing my attention down to the defined V shape that started at his hips and disappeared under the waistband. I couldn’t have admitted to myself at the time, but that became one of my favorite features of the quarterback’s body, and had me wondering just where those lines led. I didn’t have too long to wait. In a single move, Avery’s pants and boxer-briefs slid off his hips and down his legs, pooling on the floor. He kicked out of his shoes and stepped form the pants, presenting himself.
Every inch of Avery Tucker was lean, hard muscle, not overdone, not boosted by chemicals, but simply natural, powerful, defined. My eyes traced the V I had seen before, following to where it led, directly between his thighs. His cock, not yet erect but seeming to have a slight chub, draped over his balls, leaning to the left. It was larger than Tom’s, from what I could tell, but still in the “normal” range. The exposed head had a distinct helmet shape, tapering toward the tip, and all I could think was “for easy entry”. Entry into what?
I was wrong about his body hair. It wasn’t fine, or so lightly colored that it was hard to see: Avery had none, and at first glance and at that distance, it was hard to tell if that was natural or not. If not, he’d done a remarkable job at removing it, because not even his large balls showed a hint of hair, and I decided in that moment that I found a perfectly smooth pubic region far more aesthetically pleasing.
“Your turn,” Avery said, his voice low, almost husky. My eyes flicked back up from his genitals, not quite to his eyes and more like at his chin. “You like it, don’t you?” he asked, already knowing the answer. Despite myself, I nodded slowly. “Fine, you can have it, but you have to show me first.”
I think I was in something of a daze at that point, having lost my argument and not so much to the extent that Avery had “won”, but that my argument against doing what he wanted was simply gone. “I… but I’m not as…” I gestured toward his prefect body. “I’m not built like you are. I’m not as… uh… nice to look at.” Even now, I can’t tell if I was just buying time, like before, to find a way out, or if my insecurity was genuine.
“It’s OK,” Avery said, his voice calm, reassuring. “I’m sure you look fine. Just let me see.” And damned if he wasn’t charming and coaxing at the same time. I almost wanted him to see, but also knew that it was going to be a disappointment. After a few more moments of hesitation, I undressed, just like he had. A few seconds later, the two of us stood there, a few feet apart, both nude with our dicks hanging out, one a tall Adonis, the other a scrawny nerd. At least my dick wasn’t tiny. Wouldn’t that have just been the icing on the cake?
Let me step aside for a moment, if you don’t mind. So that I don’t have to always explain exactly what I look like, I’d rather just get my description out of the way right now. I’ve always been the skinny kid: underweight regardless of what or how much I ate. I, at the time, had no muscles to speak of, no definition or tone to anything. I wasn’t skin and bone, exactly, but my body was pretty damned thin. As I’ve mentioned, my body hair, despite having quite dark hair above my shoulders, was fine and light, and almost invisible if you weren’t looking for it. Even my pubic hair was blonde and not terribly thick. Since everyone is dying to know, my dick isn’t huge and I’m not going to lie to you about it. I am, like the other two cocks in the story so far, average, which I know is boring and I apologize for that. I am, though, a shower rather than a grower, so even soft, my dick is close to the size it becomes when hard. My balls are respectable and, I’ve been told, “cute”, whatever that means.
“Not bad,” Avery complimented, apparently approving. “I like what I see, Ben. What about you?” I nodded slowly. “Good,” he said with a small smile, then stepped toward me. I took an instinctive step back, but Avery stopped me, holding his hand up as if to calm me. I held still, and that same hand moved toward me. The backs of three fingers touched very gently, right at my navel, but immediately started to slide downward, down my abdomen. He didn’t stop, didn’t tease when he got to my dick, instead curving his hand around and under my balls, cupping them and my soft cock in his big hand.
It felt good. It felt so good. Maybe it was because no one had ever touched me there before, but maybe not. I only knew that, right then, in that moment, I just wanted to feel his hand on me, right where it was. I immediately started to stiffen.
It took only a few seconds for a chub to form, and as soon as it did, Avery’s hand moved from my balls, fingers slipping around my cock, holding firmly. I couldn’t help it, I sighed. Clearly, I wasn’t his first, because he knew exactly how to touch me, and as I reveled in the feel of his fingers on me, his hand started to move, slowly, toward the tip, then reversed, all the way to the base. His grip was such that each time he pulled, my hips leaned forward a little. We stood there for a while, not speaking, his hand just sliding up and down my shaft as it hardened, me leaning into his motions.
I hadn’t realized that my eyes were closed until I felt his other hand on mine, the first one not straying from its journey up and down my shaft. I looked down as he took my hand and moved it toward him, toward his waist, toward… Avery was already hard, at least most of the way. His shaft was thicker now, longer, without being intimidating. Well, intimidating beyond being another man’s dick, anyway. He guided my hand to himself, then wrapped my fingers around the smooth shaft, not lingering after.
I didn’t need encouragement or instruction, and just followed Avery’s lead, sliding my hand from tip to base and back, gently tugging as he was doing, until his hips also started to come along. Eventually we stood mere inches from each other, our cocks almost touching tips.
“Let me suck you,” I whispered, words escaping my mouth before I even realized they were forming.
“Not here,” he whispered back, “not now. Soon though,” he promised, giving my cock a reassuring squeeze. I nodded my understanding, trying to not show disappointment.
A minute later, Avery changed the pace. Suddenly, his grip tightened, and he started moving faster, his fist sliding up and down my cock. Taking my queue, understanding what he was after, I moved faster too, now not just stroking him, but jerking him off. He wanted me to cum, and I wanted the same from him. He was gasping a moment later, and I could feel his cock throbbing rhythmically in my hand. He was close, and so was I.
We came together, both groaning as we did. Our dicks erupted, covering each other in long white ropes of cum. His splattered up toward my stomach, while mine more hit his thighs and balls. We still stroked each other through our orgasms, until there was nothing left.
Neither of us said anything for a minute, just standing there, panting, holding each other’s softening cocks. My hand for the first time left his shaft and slid under, cupping his balls, gently massaging them, pulling another groan from him.
“Ben…” Avery said after a minute.
“Yeah?” I managed, breathy.
“I want you to be our good luck charm. What do you think?”
“Is it going to be like this all the time?” I asked.
“Probably. Each guy is different.” I still hand my hand on his balls and rolled them slowly.
“Will they be good to me?” I asked, probably still not fully comprehending the magnitude of the conversation that was happening.
“I’ll make sure they are,” Avery reassured, his own hand slipping under my balls again, caressing in a curiously gentle and caring way.
“Will I have to take it up the ass?” I asked jokingly, even intentionally exaggerating a little chuckle to drive home the point that it was a joke.
“Probably,” he answered seriously.
“Oh,” I said.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/pjzg28/the_equipment_manager_s01e02_college_mm_dubcon