Middle Men

I work for Hunk magazine. It’s a glossy monthly publication that profiles handsome male athletes and runs features on various sporting, health and lifestyle issues, catering to both men and women. I’ve only been on staff for about six months, so I’m the all-around gofer and sometime gaffer (on the photo shoots).

The job doesn’t pay that great, but there are some excellent fringe benefits; the main one being the opportunity to ogle hunky men in their deliberately made skimpy uniforms and other athletic gear. There’re always at least two pictorials of male action figures provocatively posed in each issue.

Ray Jacobs is the staff photographer, and from day one, he put me to use in helping him set up his equipment, decorating the small back-room set he uses to take his pics. I mentioned that one of my hobbies was photography and that I was a fan of the muscular male form. That got me in, I guess. I didn’t mention that I was more than just a fan; a hands- and mouth-on lover of the male form, in fact.

Ray’s a raging heterosexual, himself, but he’s famed for his bulge shots; his ability, as he says, “to bring out the full charm of the male athlete.” Just like Barbara Walters can get her subjects to cry, Ray can get his to erect, really fill the jocks or Jockeys or swimsuits or biker shorts they’re wearing.

He usually accomplishes that awesome feat by having Mindy, the unpaid college intern, help us out with a shoot. Mindy’s a blue-eyed blonde with a bubbly personality and shapely body. She likes to wear as little as possible as tightly as possible, and Ray will have her pose with the profiled athlete in his establishing shots—establishing a camera-friendly hard-on.

Ray will get Mindy to bend over in front of a football player and hike a ball to him; get a basketball player to demonstrate how to body a crowding, pawing Mindy away from the b-ball; get a hockey player to gently display some of the more physical penalty infractions on the supple, sexy blonde.

We were doing a spread on two of the top college football players, two gorgeous chocolate hunks that made my own equipment pad my shorts as soon as I laid eyes on them. One was a quarterback, Shawn, while the other was a wide receiver, Latroy. They played on the same team, were apparently best friends on and off the field, and were both expected to go high in the draft when they opted to turn professional.

I shook Shawn’s large, warm hand, then Latroy’s, my big brown eyes wide as saucers, the blood boiling through my veins making my creamed coffee skin sing. These guys put the hunk in hunk-hunk.

Shawn was tall and broad and beefy, with gray eyes and brown skin and close-clipped hair. His grin was wide and white and welcoming, the muscles bulging on his arms and legs and chest rippling with delight at every move he made. Ray had already suited him up in a pair of shoulder pads, football pants and cleats. I cursed Lorraine, the managing editor, for sending me out on a coffee run when I should’ve been there for the wardrobe check.

Latroy was even taller than Shawn, a lean-muscled, deep-black stretch of licorice sweetness. He had dark, twinkling eyes and a gleaming, shaved skull; a movie star profile and head-on, the most sensuous set of lips. Ray had outfitted him in a football helmet and mesh jersey and super-tight pair of white practice shorts.

The men formed a combo too good to resist, chocolate thunder and lightning. My sweaty hands shook on the lights as I pushed them into position, and hung the green screen behind the pair, my eyes glued to them like a pro-football scout’s. They stood there in my spotlights chatting and laughing, my heart thumping in my chest like my cock was beating in my pants. I would’ve picked them both number ones.

The setup was the simple green screen and the sexy men in their rule-breaking gear. Ray was going to insert various city backgrounds and skylines into the pics of the men later on, to show where the two All-Americans might end up playing professional American football.

Now, he tossed a college football into the mix, as he got down to the business of pointing and clicking. And then, after a few dozen snaps from various angles and in various poses, Ray threw Mindy at the ball-tossing and bubbling pair.

She was slutted up special for the occasion, obviously given advance notice of the twin blessings to be bestowed on our humble office that day, unlike myself. Her chest was stretch-wrapped in a pink tube top, her buns vacuum-packed in a pair of purple shorts. She had my eyes popping, if not my dong.

Ray got her to rough it up with the guys, running routes into their arms, draping her body over Latroy in extra-tight coverage, sacking Shawn for a sensuous loss. Then he had her back-peddle out of the fray. And the man himself was thrown for a loss. Because while the guys’ muscles were pumped up, the front of their pants and shorts weren’t.

Ray frowned, snapping off a few more shots, getting Mindy to bounce around the room like she was actually busy. All to no avail: he just couldn’t get a rise out of the guys.

“Uh, how ’bout we take a ten-minute break?” he said at last. “I’ve, uh, got to get some different lenses. Think up another game plan,” he muttered under his breath, as he stalked out of the room with Mindy in tow. The man never missed a good crotch-shot, if he could help it.

I was left all alone with the two beautiful ballers. I polished the pole of a lamp stand and fondled a screw, casting sidelong glances at the dark and delicious pair.

“Hey, man,” Latroy laughed, “you gotta use your hands.” He held out his—big, with long, slender fingers and soft, slightly lighter-toned palms.

I heaved a wobbly spiral his way, and he easily snagged it with those skilled, expressive mitts of his, instantly bringing the ball down into his meshed, muscle-humped chest.

“Hey, help us stay loose,” Shawn said, waving me over, the beef on his chest clenching as he moved his arm, puffy tan nipples catching the light and my sights.

I raced into the game like the coach had just tapped me on the shoulder as I sat on the bench. Shawn bent me over, stuck his hands in between my legs, rubbing against my thighs. I gripped the ball by the trembling point and waited for his signal, feeling the heat of his hands up and down my legs and into my groin; all the while staring up at Latroy waiting to cover me.

I hiked the ball and shot forward, darted right, left, turned, took the tip of the football in my chest and watched it bounce free, just as Latroy wrapped me up in his long, strong arms and lifted me right off the ground, carrying me back into Shawn’s huddle.

The men laughed, squeezing me between them, tugging back and forth on my body like I was a fumble they were trying to scoop up and take for a score. I reveled in their touches, their embraces, feeling their warm hands and breath all over me. I looked down and noticed the bulge in Shawn’s tight-fitted football pants. I spun my head around, as Shawn ripped me free from his buddy’s grasp, and witnessed the equally impressive swelling in the front of Latroy’s stretched shorts.

I almost shot my arms up into the air signaling touchdown, I was so pumped. Ray had never considered that option—the rugged pair of footballers was playing on my team.

“What’s got you so excited?” Shawn breathed in my face, squeezing me tight. “You’re not making any progress.”

“Oh, yeah?” I exulted, the man’s swollen cock pressing hot and throbbing into my hard-on. Latroy’s pumped snake was squeezing in between my buttcheeks from behind.

“Oh, don’t I?” I responded, brash as a cocky rookie. I shuddered my rump up against Latroy’s dong and slid my erection up and down Shawn’s.

The game got serious all of a sudden, the men feeling the heat I was bringing. Shawn wetted his thick lips with the tip of his brilliant pink tongue and then planted the plush pair right on my lips. As Latroy hooked his teeth into my neck, he took a nip.

I surged for the end zone. I was sandwiched in between the men, getting kissed softly by Shawn. His teammate tongued on my nape. I was in gridiron heaven!

Shawn’s tongue flooded my mouth. I put my sticker in motion. Our slippery mouth-organs twisted and turned together in tight patterns, as our cocks squeezed, slid, glided shafts together.

Latroy’s dong pressed deep as it could into my asscrack with my pants on, frotting my crack. He gripped my waist and licked my neck, pumping his hips. Cock was stroking my crack, cock stroking my cock. The play call was nudity.

I slithered out of Shawn’s arms and down to my knees, assuming the two-point stance, glancing eagerly back and forth between the two bulging erections in the men’s clinging gear. They quickly got with the program, Latroy skinning down his shorts, Shawn his pants. I was no longer the meat in the sandwich; the meat was on either side of me, served straight out on sticks.

Latroy’s cock was an even deeper shade of noir than the rest of him, but just as long and well cut, bulbed at the top with hood, at the bottom with balls. Those balls were shaven smooth as his entire luscious, licorice form.

Shawn’s cock was thicker, beefier, a brown, turgid appendage that twitched, straining, up to my pouty lips. I looked up at the man, slid neon-pink tongue out between my lips and touched the slit of his member. He jerked, muscles on his massive thighs jumping.

I spun my sweet tongue around and around Shawn’s mushroomed cap. Then I swiveled, licked Latroy’s slit, mopped his cock-top with my budded pleasure tool. He grunted and bounced up onto his toes, his cock jumping before me.

I grabbed hold of Latroy’s dong. It filled my pale palm with throbbing black heat. I turned, took Shawn’s knob into my mouth and sucked, tugging on Latroy’s prick.

The two men really got into the game then, removing their shoulder pads and mesh wear, shuffling close to each other and throwing an arm around each other’s shoulders, serving up their cocks side by side. I tugged on the hood of one with my lips, pulling on the other with my hand. Then I reversed field, sucking on the other bloated cap, stroking the other pulsating shaft. The boys watched me, kissing, entwining their own tongues for my viewing pleasure and their further arousal. They played it close all right.

Clutching Shawn’s cock skin-tight with my grasping fingers, I opened my mouth up wide and pushed my head forward and swallowed half of Latroy’s cock. He bucked, shooting another inch or so inside, moaning into Shawn’s open mouth.

I sealed my lips tight around his shaft and bobbed my head, sucking on the ebony pipe. As I pulled on Shawn’s club, Latroy’s dong filled my mouth. His cock popped against the back of my throat. I looked up, sucking, tugging. The men were skimming their hands all over each other’s bare chests, plucking dark, jutting nipples with their dexterous fingers.

I popped off Latroy’s cock and inhaled Shawn’s prick down to his balls. The big man groaned. He grabbed on to my semi-fro and pumped his hips, fucking my mouth, churning his cock through my lips and along my tongue and just about down my throat.

I bounced my head back and forth between the two men, blowing one cock, then the other, fisting both to beat the pregame band. It was a tailgate special, the beefy tube-steaks sizzling in my sucking mouth and pumping hands.

The guys had to pull back a few yards before they shot the works. Then they positioned me down on all fours, stripping away my pants, exposing my own third and long leg. Shawn found the lube in my pocket and greased his dick with strong, sure strokes, deliciously scrubbing my crack while Latroy stretched out on the floor and held his dong up as a target for my hungry mouth.

The receiver passed his cock off to me, and I dropped my mouth down onto his glistening hood then his shaft. It was bombs-away as I grasped his balls and dick. I felt Shawn motioning at my backfield, pulling a cheek aside with one hand, poking meaty hood up against my pucker with the other.

I bore down on Latroy’s night-shaded stake, wiggling my bum at Shawn. The strong-armed quarterback reared back and speared my ring, broke through and passed swollen shaft into my chute. He went in so fast and smooth and blissful it made my bobbing head spin.

Shawn gripped my waist and slammed my butt. He drilled his fundamentals into me, going deep, matching the pace I was setting cock-sucking Latroy. It was team spirit of the most intimate kind. I was rocked to and fro by Shawn’s pounding dong, on Latroy’s thrusting dong.

Meat filled my ass and mouth, pumping me at both ends. I shimmered all over with sexual electricity, getting plugged and plugged into. In the heated scramble, the wicked buffeting, I somehow managed to grab on to my own cock and stroke.

My dong was a numbed length of flapping steel. Two tugs were all it took, the cocks sawing my chute and craw heightening every sensation. I jerked with orgasm between the two men, spraying out pure white joy.

Shawn grunted and banged me in a frenzy, blasting my bowels with heated sperm. Latroy’s fingernails bit into my scalp and his cock seized up in my mouth, spurting down my throat. The three of us thundered with orgasm, the footballers dousing me with more than a bucket of Gatorade.

By the time Ray finally returned to the scene of the shoot and shoot-off, we were all back in formation. He glanced at the men’s once-again flaccid groins and sighed, shrugging his shoulders at me.

I smiled sympathetically at the guy then with satisfaction at the two gridiron studs. I was more than ecstatic at having been presented with the game balling of a lifetime.