quickienewyork:

“You can’t tell anyone,” he said, leaning into me behind the bleachers. Practice was over, most people had gone home, and sweat clung to our bodies matting down our clothes.

But his cock was hard, and I could see it outlined through his shorts. His breath was quick even though we stopped running a long time ago, and I could feel his longing. For just a moment I wondered if that was how I made girls feel: wanted, desired, and afraid of being devoured.

“Who would I tell?” I whispered, my hand reaching down to my own cock. He looked about nervously, but without another word he dropped his shorts and touched himself while I watched. I did the same, my fist a blur as our faces touched, our eyes still looking down.

“Here,” I whispered. “It feels better when someone else does it.”

He moaned when I replaced his hand with my own, but he didn’t stop me. In fact, he reached out and did the same, slowly starting to touch me too as the sounds from his throat grew louder. His breath in my ear was hot and damp and the word hung on his lips, terrified that they might slip out.

“Can I…” he started, and stopped before getting it out.

“Tell me,” I moaned, my hand working faster, harder, and stronger around his hard cock. “Tell me what you want.”

“Are you gonna come?” he asked, his shoulders tensing as he stood up straight. I simply nodded and closed my eyes, feeling his body against mine and his hand around me. Without warning at all he released me and dropped to his knees. I grabbed my own cock in one hand and his hair in the other as I felt his thick lips open.

“Fuck,” I moaned, feeling him take more of me into his mouth. He gagged and coughed, but didn’t stop. I started to thrust, no longer able to hold back at all, and seconds later I started to come in his mouth as he licked and sucked me more frantically than ever.

When I finally pulled back, he simply knelt on the ground, jerking off silently as he licked his lips and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’m coming dude, I’m gonna fucking…”

And then he was done too, erupting onto his own hand and shorts as he knelt on the grass. I stared in awe, watching for the first time, my body still shaky and weak from my own orgasm. He sat with his head down for just a moment, before jumping back up to his feet and pulling up his shorts.

“No one,” he said again, his eyes back to normal, and the lust all but gone. “I’m serious.”

I made it to the front of the bleachers before I collapsed. I looked up at the blue sky and the empty field and tried to catch my breath. He didn’t so much as say goodbye, but none of that seemed to matter. Laughter caught in my throat as I thought about his words, and before long I could do nothing else.

Who the fuck would believe me?

-gny

(For more bro on bro action check out Brorotica by me.)

Unf.