Crew Team Discipline



I've been in the Lamba house for two years, a junior coxswain on the crewteam. Coming to Agustana College was the smartest move I could have made. This small town college was perfect for me, and once you paid your fees, they pretty much made sure that you didn't flunk out. As for joining the crew team, where else could you work out with guys over six feet tall, with fine legs, muscular arms and built chests, who were half nude and wet most of the time. Jesus I loved walking into the showers after morning practice, especially in the winter. Beef would fill the small dump we called a boat house on the lake, and between the whirls of steam, I could see and smell the guys around me. As for me, well I'm 5'5", 134lbd, built like a small town full-back, with size 8 feet, and a size 8 cock. My eight inches curves wickedly to the right, with a fat plum on the end and surrounded by the black Irish hair that covers my head, is under my arms, trails down my chest, dusts my arms and legs, and is thick up the crack of my ass. My skin is pale, and ruddy, but during the summers I darken enough to get that black Irish tan with a pale, pink butt and feet.

I made sure that when we returned this past fall, I was assigned a junior college transfer who pledged the house for a roommate, and my luck was that he was coming out for crew. Now the coxswain is in charge of the team in the boat, and one of the reasons they chose me was cuz I love giving those big goofs orders and tons of shit. It's a rush watching those big hunks do whatever I tell `em, and getting to chew out their asses if they make mistakes while we're on the water. Sometimes, when they really fuck up, I tell `em the only way to get back into my good graces, and the coach's, is to meet with me for some private practice. The guys know that if they come, it's part of a come on, and I haven't missed yet. These guys enjoy the thought of me taking charge, and I enjoy the fact that Some of these dick brains just want someone to tell them what to do.

A week ago, I had Riley Kramer in my room, working on more than his stroke, if you know what I mean. I had the big son of bitch stretched out against a rack on my closet door, tied to the four corners, with a quill feather in my hand, and him gagged. His big arms were stretched over the edge of the door, and secured so his hands could wiggle, but his body was completely vulnerable and exposed. His jutting tits rubbed against the rough pad I have attached on the upper part of the door, irritating the buds and making them pink and stiff. Standing next to the big oaf, I took the quill and slowly dragged in up and down his muscled sides. He groaned and hiccuped behind his gag, and when I took the sharpened end and scratched it in his hair tufted pit, he jumped to his toes, and clenched his butt, wrenching against his bonds desperately trying to avoid the maddening tickle. I alternated from side to side, and then used one in each hand from behind him so I could work both exposed arm pits at the same time. He looked like an oversized puppet, dancing on his toes, and wrenching to twist from the quills. I thought he might pull the door off the hinges, but I had made sure that door was strong and fixed to the frame. A high-pitched whine and gasps came from behind his gag, along with choked pleading when he could catch his breath. There's something wonderful about a guy whose dick gets stiff when he's tied up, and he voluntarily submits to a work out session with me in charge. Each time I get Riley secured, my cock starts dripping scum in my briefs and aches from how hard it gets.

After letting him rest for a few moments, I got down on my knees behind him, and worked the inside of his thick, hairy thighs, drawing the quill along the taught muscles. When I was sure from his squealing he was exhausted from my use of the quill, I gently picked up a wicked little glass rod, covered like the body of a bee, with little bristles. I brought the thing up to Riley's face, so he could see it. A guy in Chemistry made it for me. Riley's eyes widened, and more perspiration dripped down the side of his face and from under his arms. He knew where the rod was going. I dipped the furry tip into a green gell which I had purchased over spring break in New Orleans. Then I gently lowered myself to my knees, behind Riley's taut butt cheeks. I blew into his crack, then gently used my fingernail to scratch at the hairy line. Riley thrust himself against the closet, and his dick, sticking through a hole I had in the door, waved hard and helplessly---drooling long streams of clear pre-scum to the floor. Finally, I parted the thick cheeks, and gently but insistently scratched and probed until I inserted my finger up into his hidden portal. With my finger lubed with grease, I tickled and rubbed his ass lining, until the blunt digit wormed its way slowly up the resisting hole. I could hear Riley gasp, then groan from behind his gag--- aaaahhh hhhh.....mmmmmmmm....mmmpppphhh -when my fingernail gently grazed his hard little prostrate. Nothing like having a big boy dangling on your finger, his ass feeling stuffed and his sore little nut getting poked and prodded. Again he banged against the door, but there was no where to go. For several minutes, I gently frigged the big junior's butt hole, making sure to touch all his most sensitive spots while he gasped and groaned from the need to cum, scum burping from the big pisshole in his dork each time I rubbed his joy nut. On the other side of the door, the big cock waved like a flag pole in the breeze, covered with the fuck slime I was massaging out of him, aching for a rough fist to relieve the swelling in his fat, hairy, balls. Good I love the smell of ball sweat and jizz starch.

Without warning, I slid my finger out of him. Then holding the cheeks open again with one hand, I slowly but deliberately inserted the furry rod coated in the slimy gel. The thin rod is only five inches long, just enough to get up Riley's butt, but not long enough to hurt or damage him. Once it was in, and I could hear old Rile groaning from the sensation of the ticklish little bristles screwing against the lining of his ass, I began sliding it back and forth. After about a minute or two, I screwed the base end of the rod into a harness made of leather which held it securely in place so he could not shit it out of his hole. The tickling bristles scratched and scraped in a maddening fashion along the soft lining of Riley's manhole, and the green gell slowly began to take its effect. Then I snapped a electric cord into a socket at the base, and went to a small console sitting on the floor where it was connected. The console was the old generator from my electric train when I was a kid. Still worked like a charm. I had used it first in this new role when I was in high school with some wires and clips on the tits, balls, and foreskin of a dumb baseball player from our summer league team that I got drunk and took to my parents cabin one New Year's Eve. He was about twenty years old, and worked as a garage jockey in the town next to ours. By the time I was through, the dick-wad had sucked his own cock to two giant cums, while the charge ran from his big toe, his tits and his balls. He had a long think dick, and I'll bet he still sucks his own cock after I was through showin' him how good he could make himself...yeah!

Now, with some improvements, that old generator still worked to provide the power to my new toys. I turned up the dial slowly, and as I did so, the rod pulsed in Riley's butt, and began to jiggle. As it jiggled, so did Riley, bouncing on his toes like a man with a bee up his butt. I loved watching the way his big feet strained to lift him up, as if to do so would relieve the maddening buzzing up his fuck hole. The big body bounced and banged, and I knew the fat dicked fucker was in heaven. This was the part of his training that he craved and longed for. The rumors about old Riley were all true. One of the guys in the boat had double-dated with him and leaned over the back seat to see old Riley with his head back and his dick down the throat of his date and her long nailed index finger rooting up his shit shute. Conner said Riley was totally in her control, head lolling back, shorts around his feet, dick rock hard down her vacuuming throat, and her finger frigging him out of his mind. Another guy who got Riley drunk, took him home, and had tied his legs over his head and butt frigged Riley for the good part of a night, making him cum three times without ever touching the big goof's cock. He said he loved the way Riley howled for someone to jerk his meat, but blasted cum anyway from the sensations up his hole.

Tonight though, I had a special treat to join with the thorough massage his prostrate was receiving from the maddening bristles. I sat cross legged around the other side of the door, and picking up and old electric toothbrush. I leaned around the edge of the door to let him see me switch it on. Riley's got this thing about his nine inches of prick. He can take all the rough fist sliding you can give him, but he can't stand any scratching or chaffing of his fat prick tip. Actually, that's what he digs the most, but he can't cum that way, just stay hard and drool with the tickling sensations on his fat knob driving him crazy. I dipped the end of the whirring toothbrush into the gel, then I took his log into my hands, bending the upcurved scimitar down slightly to work the bristles over and around the thick flange and the bulbous, meaty tip. Now old Riley bounced and strained to pull his prick away from the bristles whirring back and forth across his knob. Bbbbbbuuuuuuuuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.....went the sound of the brush as it I put it back and forth on old Riley's fuckstick. I stood up and removed his gag, while I held the brush at his piss lips, and roiled it back and forth on his circumcision scar. I wanted to hear each squeal, and his futile pleading.

He didn't disappoint. "Aaaaaahhhh fuckkkkkkkk, jeeeezzzzzz, ooooooohhhhh, Mack......., pllllleeeeeaaaasssseeee, get that thing outta my butt, I can't take it.......oooooooohhhhh, those bristles, sssssshhhhiiiiitttt! Getta it outta me,, nut, my button, it's killin' meeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaiiiiiiiieeeee!" knob...nooooo... nnnnnnooooottttt my prick....nnnnooottt my big dick........its soooooo... helplllllesssss....nnnnooooo...mannnnn... ya gotta let me goooooo...aaaaaahhhhhh... jjjjeeeeeezzzzz you're working meeeeee, you're torturin' my big old dick knob.... aaaaaaggggghhhhh! The last cry came out as a high pitched squeal when I put the whirring bristles of the toothbrush right on the top of the head of Riley's unprotected fuck pole. I basted the dick head with gel, which causes harmless little red bumps to develop all around the knob that itch like a million little mosquito bites. Riley almost went mad, when the itching inside his asshole, which was alternately soothed and inflamed by the bristles up his shit shute, was added to the same sensation on his cock tip. I used my alternate thumb from the hand holding his dick, covered with a smooth, soft cotton finger glove, to gently rub where the stiff bristles of the electric toothbrush angrily agitated his prick tip. I wondered if Riley would go hoarse. He did begin to babble:

"MACK! Pppppllllleeeeaaassseee mmmmaaaaaannnnnn, aaaaagggggghhhhhhhh, nnnnnnnoooooooooo....not my prick heaaaadddddddd.......nnnnooooooooooo... I caaaanannnnnn't take it maaaaannnnnn.....pppleeeaaasseeee.....oooooooooohhhh fuck, ohhhh shit........yyyyyyooooooooouuuuuu got meeeeeeee mmaaaaannn.... I'll do anything......pppplllleeaaaaseeee....tell me what you want me to do.......... PLEASE MACK.....tttteeeel mmmeeeeeee......!"

I responded appropriately. "Riley, buddy, you gotta big dick and a small brain. For the next week, your dick is mine...understand you moron? I got this cock cage with your name on it. For the next two weeks, you don`t cum unless I let you. And when you do, it'll be cause I let you jerk your meat in front of me with a finger or a vibrator up your butt. You're gonna spend the nights here, and when you go to bed, I'll tie your hands and feet down, and put a tent over your cock so the sheets won't touch you...and that dick better be hard and wet from need. If you have any wet dreams, then I'll borrow a bottle of mosquitoes from the Bio Lab and stick your prick tip into it so they can feast on your knob...then I'll use some gel and my finger gloves with the denim tips or bristle tips to work you over, without letting you cum (that fantasy always got his dick on the verge of squirting). You got it dickwad? Does that little brain get the soothing those bull balls without my permission and supervision. Someone needs to supervise that dick day and night...and I'm the guy to do it!"

Riley acquiesced right on schedule. OOOHHHHH FUCK MAAAACCCCK! I'll do anything you saaaaayyyyy.....aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh....aaaaagggggggghhhhhh... you just tell me....I'm yours can do know my dick is always haaaarrrdddd...pppppllllleeeeaaasseeee, Mack, you can supervise my prick, I need it......just telllllll mmmmmeeeeee....aaaaaaiiiiiiieeeeee..... what you want....aaaaannnnd, just let me cum this once, oooooohhhhhh plllleeeeaaaseeee, just lemme balls are killing me! My dick is yours dick is yours......ppppllleezzzzz, take control of my big hard dick Mack.....I need to be controlllllled.....aaaaaaaggggghhhhhhhh!"

His cock was completely swollen, the knob was covered in bumps and sloppy with gel and pre-cum. The slut was ready. I stood up and put the toothbrush down, then turned off the vibrator up his quim. He looked shocked, he pleaded with me to finish him. I told him I would.

Within five minutes, his feet were tied over his head and his wrists were tied to the corners of my bed head. I put a bolster under his lower back to support him. I had trussed his legs back until his dick tip was just over his mouth. I carefully cleaned the gel off his prick knob, but the angry bumps would not go away. Now, without any soothing ministrations, they were pebbled and hot to the touch. I picked up an anal probe, and slid it gently home with more gel on it, then turned on the vibrator, making sure to fuck him just right grazing and bumping his fuck nut deep up his butt. Using a bristle glove, I let him fuck my fist with his itchy cock. He fucked like a champ, driving that curved cock back and forth so the stiff bristles would soothe his cock and dick head. I would open the fist though, just enough to prevent him from getting relief too quickly. "Open your mouth sperm breath, time for your vitamins...." He howled, and opened his mouth the best he could between gasping for breath and yelling for me to make him cum. I made him promise to let me gag him and tickle his toes until his dick shot from the tickling alone, and to suck my toes for the rest of the semester whenever I asked him to, especially on the floor under a carol in the library. When he agreed to do it all, then I gave him the relief that he was begging for.

One last twist of my fist around the distended dork, and the scum began rocketing out of the tip. I jabbed the probe against his prostate and let the vibrator wring the stuff out of him. I aimed the jerking dong toward his mouth, and he slurped and lapped and gulped, swallowing down ten long shots of thick, white cum, and all the slimy dreggs, I kept nursing his flange and the piss lips with the bristles until he finally almost jumped out the restraints. Riley's gonna make some girl a good husband in a few years, and I intend to make sure he's "up" to the challenge.


As much as I liked my sessions with Riley. It was the freshman stroke that was assigned to me that made my junior year a dick dripping success. Spencer Harding III was eighteen years of Missouri cream, who came to me for training. He had heard that getting onto the team meant working with me, and after years of conservative home life he was looking for any port into which to shoot his scum. Without having to admit to any inappropriate feelings, Spencer could get his needs taken care of and still be just one of the guys. After all, this was college, and when you have to go through the rituals, what's a guy gonna do?

Spencer Harding III was just as tasty as he could be. He was blond, six foot three, size twelve feet, and a dick that was seven inches of perfectly formed Catholic prick whose guilt had kept it outta his fist and girl's pussies. Sure he'd gotten a blow job once at a gas station out of town when he was drunk, and Jenny Holcomb had jerked him off once, and let him rub against her so hard while they made out senior year that he'd creamed his jeans several times. But most of the time, without realizing it, he would walk around with a half hardon. A boy like that needs to be trained and supervised, and I was the little man to do the job. The first week he was in school, I sized him up. The warmth of the early Fall saw him tanned and bleach blond. His buzz cut contrasted to the thick whorls of blond hair on his forearms, legs, fingers, toes, pits and ass. Around his dick, the hair was thick and blond, but it framed his balls, which hung like duck eggs in a sack below. Jeez he was hairy, but in a clean, glowing way. Those thick ass cheeks were covered in curly hair, which sunk deep into his crack. His cock was slightly curved up, and I learned that when it got hard, so did the curve; topped by a oversized helmet with a wide flange. I wondered how he'd get that thing inside some girl's cunt, with a head that wide, he'd have to pry it in. The Saturday after our first home football game, I made sure that Riley and a couple of other guys on the crew got Spence good and tanked. He'd let on that anything went as long as he didn't have to remember it. I understood his meaning perfectly. He was open game, just as long as it was just between the guys. He was hooting and howling, his baseball cap on backwards, his shirt unbuttoned and his nipples jutting from his chest. Once during the night, I saw Riley grasp one of Spence's nips in jest, and the kid doubled over as if someone had hit him with a bolt of electricity. Those titties were going to get a good work-out before the end of the semester. But in their virgin condition they were all the more ripe for plucking. He later told me that a buddy had discovered just how sensitive his tits were during his junior year in high school. They'd go to the drive-in to talk smack about girls, but his buddy always managed to get his hands into his shirt and play with his tits. It never went beyond that, but he'd go home with a huge, sticky hardon that sometimes got relieved of a giant load in a wet dream. He didn't think anything of it, but his buddy never seemed to miss a chance to get his shirt unbuttoned, and his rough fingers plying Spence's pointy nubs in their dare/jock games. Around 1:00 am, Riley and Carl Bendix brought the kid upstairs, stumbling and weak kneed. He was drunk as a skunk, and couldn't stand without help. They dumped him on his bed, and winked at me as they left. I closed and locked the door. It was time for Spencer to start his college education. I went to the bed and pulled off his high top sneakers and crew socks. His feet were damp, but not dank. No scent of athlete's foot, or evidence of hard callous; just clean strong jock feet that had run and worked out hard. I'd watched him in the house basketball games, and liked the way his big feet fit into his high tops, and how when he was bare foot, his pale feet muscled his flip-flops. The narrow heels, high arch and strong ankles were just my style, with long curved toes at the ends of the broad balls. I scratched a nail up one foot, and in his stupor he still jumped, pulling the sensitive foot away from the sensation. I pulled off his shirt, then went for the baggy shorts. He tried to push my hands away, saying he was OK, but I knew he was more concerned about the boner he had in his briefs, than anything else. He didn't want me to embarrass him. I shoved his hands away, and pulled the shorts off, leaving his worn briefs with their swollen cock on. There was a large wet stain where his piss slit had leaked all night, and the smell of starch was in the air.

He burbled something unintelligent when I fastened his hands to the top of the bed frame, and was surprised when I looped his big legs over a bar which magically came from the ceiling of his own room, suspended by cables! Then I attached the legs, spread wide, and pushed the bar towards his chest so the legs splayed and the pink rosette of his ass pucker was just barely revealed behind the riot of blond curls that clung damply to his crack. I gave him one more drink, one laced with a potion I got on a trip to Mexico, that made him sappy and horny at the same time; safe but effective. In a minute, his nine inch dick curved up, wetting the top of his briefs, then poking up and out of the band, dripping clear pre-scum into his navel.

I started with his feet. His ankles were attached to the bar, and pulled back toward his chest as they were, they left his size twelve feet facing the ceiling. Spence's youth and innocence were evident. His feet were smooth and soft, high arched, heavily muscled, and with only the scent of sweat...more appealing than anything. You could see that these pale monsters had carried him for eighteen years without being molested. I drew my pudgy index finger up and down, the wide digit and rough nail, scratched and scrabbled over his sole, up into his instep, and under the long, thick toes. Spencer, did not know how to react. He was ticklish, but I don't think anyone had ever played with his feet. His slurred appeals were almost comical: Haaaaaayyyy Mack, whad'ya doin'! That feels weird, that will ya? Hey stop that....haaaahhhhhaaaahhh, ha, ha, that tickles man...hey Mack, will ya stop it....Jeez, ha, ha,ha,aaaaaahhhhhhhaaaa, that's makin' me feel weird, aaaaaaahhhhhhhaaaaieeee, stop it man...stopppittttt!

What was happening was that his dick was beginning to drool big strands of pre-cum. His knob had fattened up, and his balls were rolling in their sack. His big feet were tied to his dick, and he was just learning about it. I stood on the bed, grabbed the top of his foot, and stuck the toes in my mouth. Mmmmmmmmmmm....what a snack. I sucked the big jock's toes, worming my tongue between the thick piggies, sucking underneath them, and using my nails to scratch and tickle his exposed and helpless soles the entire time. The king size bed was surprisingly stable, and although my young punk-toy was trying desperately to get his foot out of my grasp and away from the salacious licking and tickling he was receiving, his torso was unable to move much with the bolster keeping him from bouncing that big ass. I used my own size eight feet, with long toes, to grasp his near nipple and scratch the tiny erection with my toenail. Then I alternated between his tit and his dick knob, letting the nail scratch his big fuck tip, and along the flange, making him gasp and shout, each time. After working both feet till he was almost completely disoriented between the sensations and the liquor, I sat down next to him. I slipped on a finger glove covered with bristles, and dipped the index finger and thumb of my hand into a little bottle of my famous green gel. I used the two fingers to roll Spence's near tit, the one I had been toying with using my toenail. It was already a bit sensitive from the scratching, but when I began to roll it, pull it, pluck it gently, and tug it gently, the big fucker arched his chest and let me have my way. I had him. He was an eighteen year old whore...and he didn't even know it.

His tits were like his key, and I could envision him tethered on my lap, legs separated by a weighted spreader bar at his feet, hands attached to a collar and me wearing a bristle condom with my eight inches up his shitchute. Gagged appropriately, I'd be roiling his dick head while I pinched and plucked his titties, working the big fucker to a giant cum, one of three or four he would endure on my lap some night. Make `em cum, that's my philosophy...dick slaves, their the best kind. Some guys just need to be used, and I could see that Spence was my manna from heaven. I'd keep his cock under control during the days, and on the nights of my choice, I'd drain the spunk out his big, bull balls.

I had an old electric drill, mounted on a heavily weighted board, and placed it between his legs. The drill aimed down, rather than sideways, since his asshole was now raised up between his legs held up and apart by the spreader bar. Instead of a drill bit, at the end I had screwed on a short and very slender, but knobby, dildoe only about four inches long, with lots of bumps and ridges. On every bump and along each ridge, were short, stiff horse hairs or flexible quarter-inch plastic nodules, alternating from one to the other. The drill mechanism had been slowed down to two low speeds which caused the dildoe, attached where the bit once went, to rotate randomly from one direction to the other at the respective very slow, speeds. In addition, it could telescope in and out with a flick of a switch, slowly moving in and out of the rectum. After applying gel liberally on the dildoe, I used my finger with some grease to tickle and screw into Spence's tight ass pucker. His muscles initially clung to my finger like they were going to break it off. His ass had never been breached except by the doctor and then only reluctantly. But the gentle and insistent scratching of my nail, the unrelenting rubbing of the lining, the deliberate but gentle nudges of his prostrate, gradually caused Spence to begin a steady fuck on my finger even though he consciously whined and groaned. He wanted my finger out, and yet almost unconsciously the sensations made him want me to keep it in to soothe and grind what it itched and irritated. More than that, he just plain wanted the sensations coursing through his dick, causing it to rise off his stomach in a stiff, aching attempt to ejaculate without any stimulation. The knob would pulse and expand, but without some help, it would stay fat and swollen for two or three seconds, dripping with clear scum, then wilt slightly only to swell up again.

When I had his asshole loosened up considerably, I quickly slipped my finger out, and replaced it with the slender dildoe. I'm always gentle with the insertion, because the whole point was to get him going, not scare him off. This was all knew to him, and he was willing to try it as long as I did not hurt him. Jesus it was great to watch his ass grind, and move, trying to avoid the incredible sensations the bristles and nodules were causing within his bung as they slid home...and I hadn't even switched on the drill...FUCK, this was goin' to be fuckin' great! I flicked the switches, and the dildoe began to rotate back and forth, and run in and out gently and deliberately. He couldn't move away from the drill, and the whirring and grinding of the mechanism was matched by his pleas: OOOOOOHHHHHHH MOTHER FUCKER... AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH FUCK, SHIT.....GET-IT OUT, GET-IT OUT....OOOO OOOOOOOOOO....AAAAWW, MY HOLE, MY FUCKIN' HOLE....MACK... PLEAAASEEE! FUCK, GET-IT OUTTA ME....AAAAAAHHHHHHH! I CAN'T STAND IT.... AAAIIIIEEEEE...IT'S KILLIN' MEEEEEEEEE.....WHAD'YA DOING TO MEEEEEEE! AAAAAAAHHHHHH! While the little fuck head, screamed and pleaded, his hips moved like his asshole was being eaten from the inside by a marauding band of fire ants. Yeah, what a fuckin' turn-on. This big piece of blond, hairy meat was helpless, and his dick was just about to explode. I continued to pinch and roll his tits, and then I took put on a bristle glove on the other hand. With his asshole fully occupied, his chest arching for more tit work, his dick was ready for a good rub. I grasped the nine inch rod, which was like steel. Pulling it off his stomach, where it had arched, I fitted the bristle palm and fingers around the stalk, and used just the thumb to rotate and roil the piss grove and circumcision scar. With his hips moving as best they could, Spence's dick fucked the bristly sleeve I had made with my hand, and the fat plum of his dick head, was scratched each time he fucked the schlong up an down in my snare. Within seconds, he was burping ropes of gism out the wide lips, coating his chest and face beyond. But the maddening dildoe did not stop, and neither could his hips. His dick was pistoning in and out of my fist, at the moment that his knob was the most sensitive, and he was helpless to stop the awful tickling. I kept at him until his dick went hard again, and ground itself to a second, excruciating ejaculation. He started to scream at that point, and so I stopped working his dork about a minute after the second cum, and turned off the drill.

That first weekend at college, Spencer Harding slept on his knees, legs kept apart with a spreader bar, hands secured behind his back, face down on his pillow. I attached a pulsing sleeve made from an automatic milking machine nozzle, to his cock. Once his dick went hard, it was stimulated all night long, not enough to ejaculate, but just enough times to keep his prick stiff, and to tickle his flange and prick tip. I slept with him, occasionally slipping my bristle covered index finger into his bung, to help him sleep well! Freshmen, they are made for breaking, and by the end of the year, this one would be crawling on his hands and knees to my bed at night to suck my cock or my toes, whichever, I had a mind for him to do. It would be some time before this big kid got a chance to decide when his balls were to be emptied, and that's the way it should be. Little Johnny needs to concentrate on his crewing and school work. I'd take care of that fat prick that had no conscience.


One of the things I like most about being the coxswain on the crew team is being responsible for my guys. They fuck up, the team fucks up. And ya gotta face it, guys who average 6'3" tall and weigh 205 lbs., are not your basic rocket scientists. Most of them are good natured oafs who like pussy because it makes their dicks feel good, and row because someone told them to do it. They are hunky and horny, and that's how I like `em. No matter how they act, or how straight they are, any port in a storm works for their constant boners.

But once in a while, one of these guys can't get his dork unplugged. That is, they are so horny that they fuck anything that walks and lose their focus. That's usually when the coach gives me the high sign, and I've got to take action on behalf of the team. No man and no dick is more important than our team. We have to stroke together (and I mean the fucking boat), pull together, sweat and strain together, and pop (now this is the one you were thinking about earlier and is my take on team chemistry) together, in order to be a successful boat. Whenever one of the team gets lost in the pursuit of ways to shoot scum, I step in and restore order. Tyler Martin is a fun guy. I love redheads, and this guy was one of my favorite reds. He had deep auburn hair, and that complexion that tans so nice on his arms and legs, and the greenest eyes you've ever seen. Under his arms, around his pale white cock, and deep in the grove of his pale white ass was a shock of dark red hair. It sprouted on his long, thick toes, and on his long, thick fingers. And those freckles, those sexy freckles. Seemed to me he always smelled of Irish Spring soap and Old Spice deodorant. I knew one thing, he always smelled good. The few times we had fucked around, and I had sniffed his spunky balls, the big duck eggs which hung low and lopsided, reeked of starch and ball sweat in healthy, clean way. This kid was a sperm factory, and I wanted to be the guy to manage production.

Coach told me that Tyler had been seen hanging around the adult book store in town, and he was worried that either the kid might get into something unsafe, or might get busted by the cops. I figured that I'd just follow him around a while, and see what the big goof was up to. What I learned made my prick drip. Tyler was a machine, he had to shoot scum, and he found places where guys would take up the slack that the girls he dated could not absorb. He didn't care where he dropped a load, just so that hard iron, and those big balls could get drained on a regular basis. The first time I tracked him was on a Friday night. He had showered in the house, and since we did not have a party goin' or any socials that night, he headed into town on his own at about nine o'clock. I followed him in my car, and parked a block away from him after he reached the bookstore downtown. He parked in the back, and ducked into the door so no one would see him. But I followed, and kept a respectable distance so he wouldn't catch on. It wasn't easy, I'll tell you. A guy like Tyler gets attention when he goes into an adult book store, and I wasn't doin' too bad myself. I had to chase a couple of guys outta my face, just so I could keep an eye on old Tyler. He just ignored the attention, got some tokens, and headed for the booths in the back.

He finally picked himself a stall near one end of an isle, but with booths on either side. I moved into one next to him just as he closed his door. I popped a couple of quarters into the machine, and looked at the wall. The light from the film illuminated the thin partition, and right smack dab in the middle of the wall was a hole with about a six inch diameter. This was glory hole city, and my man Tyler was getting ready to get his pipe drained. I leaned down, and put my head to the side so he couldn`t see me, but I could glance in and see him in living color. It took a few moments to get in place, and another to get him in my sights, but when I did I wasn't disappointed.

Jeez what a fucking sight. The big red head had his chinos down around his suede low-tops. His baggy plaid green boxers contrasted to his red hair and tanned skin. The bulging muscles on his thighs were covered in dense, thick, curly red hair all the way up to the edge of the briefs. The hair on his chest fanned out to the two pecs, and trailed down to obscure his navel and hint at the forest below the waistband of his Jockeys. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing the chest, but both nipples were hidden by the unbuttoned flaps, spread just wide enough to look fucking sexy. Old Tyler was rubbing the already bulging mound of his boxers, causing the pale white fuck stick within to appear for a tantalizing moment, then disappear as the loose material moved with his hand. The other hand was gently tugging on one of his hidden tits. A dark wet stain had already begun to darken the material where his prick tip was drooling, and each time he tugged on his cock through the cotton, his thighs involuntarily spread slightly, and he closed his eyes and hissed quietly from the tug on his nip.

As I was watching, a face appeared in the wall across from me. Another six inch diameter hole was cut into the opposite partition, and a face about thirty years old was looking first my way, then towards Tyler's hunky, big boy body. Suddenly a hand appeared next to the face, and a long, strong looking index finger came to the hole, then protruded into Tyler's stall. Tyler was watching some mindless fuck flick where the girl was sucking a cock on one end, while a long, thin cock with a fat head was reaming out her pussy and scrubbing her clit on the other end. Tyler acted as if he did not see the finger curling from the hole, but without looking and without acknowledging the face peering towards him and finger beckoning him, he stood up.

He didn't move toward the partition, or the whole. He just stood up, and leaned back against the back wall of his booth. His chinos were piled around his low-tops, and he slowly rubbed his big paw back and forth against the bulging, askew boxers. The long, curbed prick under his briefs, began to force itself toward the hole, and without warning, the fat fuck stick poked through, revealing a pale long helmet on the curved stalk, with a wide set of piss lips and a pebbled flange. Tyler just squeezed his balls through the boxers, and let his rigid prick curve up and out, drooling one long string of slimy boy sap. The wet piss lips, the long string of goo, and rolling hips each time he plucked his tit, made Tyler look as tasty as it made him look nasty. This boy was going to get his boner worked tonight.

The face across the booth from me, showed only at the lips, a dark 5 o'clock shadow framing his mouth. The long bony finger beckoned, and the mouth hissed, calling Tyler to move his randy prick toward the hole and relief. Tyler ignored the call, but without looking to toward the hole, he slowly shifted his weight from leaning back against the wall, and leaned over against the side of the partition, inches away from the hole and the grasping fingers. When he did so, his long seven inch scimitar, with its big fat succulent knob, moved within finger grasping range. The long fingers protruded in through the hole, and in one swift, calculated move, the rough palm encircled just the end of Tyler rogue dick and smoothed the dripping pre-scum into the circumcision scar, and thumbing the sensitive dick head. Tyler hunched, and gave a sexy, horny groan: ooooohhhh shit, yyyyeeeeeaaaaah, fuck yyyyyeeaaaaaah, aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh...." His eyes closed, and his wobbled a bit as he allowed the rough fist to grind his beautiful boy peter and milk out more sap.

The guy across the way was in heaven. He had that gorgeous cock in his hand, and he sensed he could do what he wanted with it. As he gently slid his fist back and forth around the dick head, he whispered hoarsely through the hole: "yeah college boy, you need this don't ya buddy....your big nuts are full of cum, and I wanna help you get off...get that stuff out and give your big fat dick some relief...yeah, guy....come on, lemme help, lemma help ya...yeah, that's it, come on over here....." Of course, Tyler had that in mind the whole time, but without acknowledging the meaty fist that was stroking his pork, or the fuck talk about his wang and nads, he let the gripping hand guide him toward the hole. As he did, he let his shirt slide open wide, and his rosy pink nipples, sharp and pointed, jutted off his sloping pecs. He rubbed a hand absently over first one, then the other, letting his own rough palm graze the rubbery nubbins and cause a little gasp to escape his lips.

The determined hand of drew the wide knob to the hole, and with a salacious slurp, the wet mouth engulfed the stiff dick tip, and then slid down the clean smelling pubes. I could see Tyler's taut pale butt cheeks flex as the siphoning mouth sucked the rogue prick deep into the mouth and toward the throat, suckling the aching knob and the tongue sliding over and around the drooling glans. The hole must have been somewhat larger than my own, because the fingers which were rolling the heavy, scented nuts, slipped a finger between Tyler's legs. He obediently spread his thighs as wide as his binding pants would allow, and the long thick fuck finger slid up the rear crack, scratching and probing until it found the sweet little anal knot, then with insistent strokes, tickled and rubbed the little opening, haloed by the dark, curling auburn hair. Tyler gasped again when the finger found his hidden entry, and he stood up on his toes, his tits grinding against the dirty, rough partition. He urged the lewd mouth to make him shoot: "Aaaaaaahhhhhh fuck it...suuuuuck my dick.....aaaaaawwwwww yeaaaaahhhhh...lick my meat.... ooooohhhhhhh, shit, yeah!, right there dude, right there......ooooooooohhhhhhhh fuck yeah, eat meeeeeeeeee!" The slurping mouth did not disappoint. It seemed to gain strength from Tyler's nasty whispers, and the way the kid ground his hips against the hole in the wall as if he could shove them through the small hole in the wall to get deeper into the relentless mouth.

Suddenly, Tyler stretched his arms up and out, his body plastered against the partition with a thud, and he stood high on his toes. I could see his butt cheeks flex once, then twice, then several times rapidly, and the worming finger threatened to breach the clenched portal. Tyler was unloading volley after volley of boy jizz...shooting tasty wads of starchy cum deep into the throat of the gulping man on the other side.

Tyler was through, but his sucker was not. Like a leech, the mouth sucked and suckled, draining the fat nuts, and torturing the sensitive glans until Tyler was forced to use his hands to pop the semi-hard dick from the clinging lips. He crashed back to the seat, his disheveled hair wet with sweat, as was his torso. The pointy tits were still sticking out, and a long strand of cum and spit dripped from the spongy head of the tingling dick. Tyler closed his eyes, and sighed, his horniness temporary abate d. Then without looking at the face that still savored the sweet stud it had just worked over, and without even glancing in my direction, Tyler pulled up his pants, tucked in his shirt and buttoned up, quickly ran his comb through his hair, then left.

I followed him back to his car, and then back to the house. Later than night, I snuck into his room from the fire escape, and hid in the closet. Like the dick brain he was, the randy kid jerked his meat one more time before he went to sleep. Lying on his back, his butt bouncing on the bed, his knees spread and feet planted, and that big fist sliding up and down the every hard cock flesh. After ten minutes of mauling, and with a finger from his other hand tickling the hairy assport of his rectum without invading it, Tyler shot another four ropes of gism onto his chest. He took a rag from under his bed, wiped his chest, and then rolled over. In fifteen minutes, when he was almost snoring, I slipped back out, working a plan in my head.

What Tyler had not noticed while he was being blown was that I had a small video wand in my hand. I had taped the whole fucking scene, and especially when he was finished, his wet drippy boner flopping out of the gripping mouth, and his body lolling on the bench after he'd shot his wad. It took about a week, but I left a copy for old Tyler in a sealed envelope and told him to watch it by himself. That night, he knocked on my door, looking scared and sheepish.

He was dressed in baggy shorts, boat shoes with no socks, and an oversized t-shirt. His short red hair and the strawberry fur that covered his arms and legs, looking so tasty standing before me. I spoke with solemn authority: "T, you've been fucking around, getting your dick sucked by glory hole faggots, and generally putting the team behind your hard prick. Coach called me, and I followed you last Friday night, and now you know that I know. If I send this to the Coach, he'll send it off to your parents, and you'll be fucked big time. It's VMI or the Citadel for you for sure once they see that pink schlong of yours getting slurped by that fruit at the book store, and you lookin' all sap happy with your dick drippin` and your tits hard. Things are gonna change, startin' now and I think you know what I mean. It's time for me to take charge of your rampant dick."

"Jeez Mack, you know I'm hornier than sin, and I can't fuckin' wait for a week to blow a wad of scum. I need my pork tended on a reg'lar basis...shit, why is Coach so fuckin' old fashioned? Hell, I'm not doing anything that half the team hasn't wanted to do...fucking son of a bitch!" "Yeah, T, but the rest of the guys keep it in house, and make sure that the team is what's paramount, not any snot-nosed goof's wiener. Com'on over bud, your restriction starts today, or Coach gets the film. The choice is yours?

Pissed but defeated, Tyler walked over to me. I shut the door, and locked it, then pulled a bag from inside my closet. T, we start with inspection. Shuck the blue tennies, and pull the t-shirt off. Well start there. Stand on the chair.

As I walked to the bed and put down the bag, Tyler kicked off the boat shoes and stood up on the wooden desk chair near the bed. He pulled the t-shirt off, and stood in the baggy shorts, hanging low on his hips, and nothing else. I noticed how his sharp tipped nipples jutted so succulently off his sloping pecs. Although a forest of auburn hair framed them, the little raspberries, hard and rubbery, thrust forward like little missiles, ready to be pinched or clipped. I decided on the latter. I absently moved my hands up to his chest, and smoothed my rough palms over the little nubs. T hunched slightly to avoid the sensation, but my heat seeking flesh followed and grazed the tips enough to cause his shorts to begin to punch out, and his eyes to close for a moment. I ordered him to lift his arms, and ran my fingernails through his red forest deep in the pits. The warm boy scent was mitigated by the smell of deodorant. My nails scraped through, and the big junior pulled his arms down trying to stop the tickle while he laughed nervously. I sat on the bed, and lifted first one foot then the other. The damp scent of his foot sweat wafted from the long toes, but his feet smelled clean...not stinky. I held up one, ran my fingers under the soft, warm skin and tickled both the instep and under the toes. He almost lost his balance, but bent over and grasped by shoulders to keep himself steady. After looking at the other foot, I reached up, and unloosened his belt. He looked at me impassively, knowing that I would strip him and that he could say nothing without jeopardizing his rowing career. I unsnapped the shorts, and yanked down the zipper. The fell around his ankles, and I faced his curved love muscle, hard and sticky already from my touching his body.

Tyler blushed, but the cock continued to drool. I ignored his horny wiener, and turned him around. I pushed his back, and made him bend over. The slight damp scent of his sweaty crack met my nostrils, but once again, not stink. If Tyler had shit this morning, he must also have showered because the ass crack and hair were not rancid. Instead, the scent of a clean young man made my dick get crow bar hard, and drip in my boxers. It seemed that the moment my finger pushed through the riot of dark, damp curls to find the hidden portal, a charge of electricity went through both Tyler and I. My dick lurched as I touched the forbidden knot, and his dick throbbed as my insidious finger tickled the nether door to his libido. These straight boys don't want to know about assholes, and they think that a women's long fingernail rooting around up there is part of the deal with getting their dick up some pussy, sort of like the scratches you get on your back. But once you get a finger up those itchy little holes, it's almost like manipulating a puppet with some guys...their dicks can't get soft until you massage it for them from the inside, out. "OK, T my man. Now its time for you to get ready for the cage. It'll keep ya outta trouble till the next time I help you."

"Whaddya mean, `cage' Tyler asked puzzled, turning to stand before me with his curved dick almost soaked in clear, sticky pre-sap. I pulled a contraption out of my bag and held it before his incredulous eyes. It was like a jock strap, with a light, chain-mail pouch. At the waistline and attached to the pouch, were a padlock, with a small lock. I explained that once he had this up his hips, he could not slip it off unless I unlocked the padlock. He could piss through the chain-mail, and shit like normal. But he could only get semi-hard, and he could not get his hands on his cock. He looked at me like I was crazy, and began to protest that this was too much weird shit. He was going to go and speak to the coach.... I said fine, and I gave him a copy of the tape. I told him to take it with him, because I was going to give the coach a copy if he didn't. He dropped his head, and took a deep breath. He mumbled something like "fucking shit-motherfucking damn asshole fuck-shit..." then just stood there with this brooding expression and his hands on his hips. "Lick you fingers and palm Tyler." He looked at me again like I was crazy. "Just do what I'm tellin' ya, and do it quick. I'm runnin' out of patience with this resistance shit." He lifted his hand to his mouth, sucked his fingers, and licked his palm. "Spit on your palm...." He did so. "Now grab that prick and jack-off." I said it so matter-of-factly that he just looked at me like maybe I had made a mistake. "You heard what I said shit-head, grab that pecker, and work just the knob, now!" He lowered his hand to his dick, and standing on that chair naked as a jaybird, he looked so fucking sexy with his cock in his fist. He slowly began to spin the palm and fingers around the turgid stalk and bulging glans. Each time his rough fist grazed the piss lips and circumcision scar, he would bend his knees, and his prick would spit more clear drops to lubricate the rotating hand.

"Now pinch you tits, first one, then the other." He opened his eyes to hear me, then closed them as his fist continued to grind the rigid prick, and his other hand began to pluck at the rubbery teats. "Yeah, that's it, scumbag, play with yourself in front of the me how good you are, and why I should keep you on the first that dick and put on a show for me you dick-slave." His breath began to come in gasps, and his dick began to expand. After all, even if Tyler did not want to pull his pud in front of another guy, getting to fire a load was always at the top of his priorities. Looking at him enjoy the sensations, I figured one or two more quick tugs on his tits, and he be roping cum around the room. "OK, prick, stop, NOW!" He almost refused, rotating his fist even faster as if he could cum and evade my order, but I slapped his hand and his cock knob, and he bent over in pain, his eyes opening with a look of incredulous fear. "When I speak to you, dick-brain, you listen...understand. Otherwise, this session is ended, and you are on the J.V. boat for the rest of the season."

He pulled his sticky, wet palm from the cock and stood there, gasping as his prong throbbed, ready to shoot and dribbling, but not allowed to. "Okay, now on the bed, face down, ass up and legs spread wide with your feet off the end." He followed the instructions, looking at me out of the side of his eyes, making sure I was not going to jump him or something. I stood there, my arms crossed, my face impassive, waiting for him to follow orders, then pushing his legs more widely apart as I wanted them. The muscular thighs and big knees pushed the bed down, and he put his face on the pillows, facing me to keep watch. He spread his legs towards the sides of the bed with my assistance, his toes just making it off the edge so I could see his pale soles, the high arch, and the tender pink of the long digits. "Okay asswipe...put this on." He looked at me, and the glove I gave to him. On the index finger, there was a leather finger sowed to the glove material, and all around the leather carefully stitched to the material was an eighth inch carpet of stiff horse hair, which prickled any flesh that it touched. Even wet, or lubricated, these bristles stayed firm, projecting out from the finger at 90 degree angle all the way to the palm point where the finger joined the palm. I had dipped the finger in my wicked itching gel, but told Tyler it was just an oily lubricant. Once he had slipped on, then buckled the glove to his wrist, I spoke again. "Now take the other glove and slip in on your other hand. This glove, was a leather batting glove with a strange tube glued firmly to the palm. The fingers of the glove curled around the tube, forcing whomever had it on their hand to grasp the tube and hold it firmly. Inside the tube, made from an old plastic tennis ball can, with both ends cut off, was another carpet of horse hair completely encircling the inner core. I spoke again, after the awkward glove was firmly strapped in place, and the lubricated tube was ready for use. "Now slip your prick inside of the tube, slowly."

As Tyler did as he was told, as much out of banal curiosity as in response to my order, he gasped ..."OH fuck! What the shit...aaaaagggggghhhhhhhhh..." he groaned as the tingling bristles scrubbed his pale, tender dickskin. His jerking earlier had made the skin both tender and sensitive, ready to be rubbed rather than prickled. His first instinct was the withdraw his cock, but I stopped him and made him continue. This sensation was so different from anything his prick had ever felt, it tickled and scratched at the same time, and it made his dick expand and go rigid from its semi-erect state. "Now gently screw your index finger on your other hand in your butt, dickhead." He looked at me with "oh jeez, come the fuck on...what's this shit...I'm not gonna finger fuck myself." I answered his expression out loud..."Oh yes buddy, you're gonna screw the shit out of that asshole. That's what you get for fucking with the team's chemistry and almost getting yourself in trouble. You're gonna fuck yourself silly with that finger, while you move your fist up and down in that tube. And you're not gonna stop until I give you permission. Get it cum breath?" He looked at me for the first time with a sense of awe and fear. He was in deep shit, and his dick was already tingling from a new sensation that he could not quite make out.

"Do it, you prick, and do it quick or I'll have to come over and do it for you...!" With that, he gently began to insert the prickling index finger up his fundament...slowly screwing and turning the fingertip until the first horse hairs were wriggling against the inner lips of his pucker. Jeez what a fucking sight, this big butch rower, his long toes curling as he struggled to keep his own ass muscles from gripping and making it harder to work the irritating finger up his anus. But with quiet determination, he made it, and gasped again when the bristles and his fingertip met with his hard little joy button, up his colon. "Aaaaahhhhhh....jeeeeezzzz....what the fuck is that, ....god fucking dammit.......I gotta take this frigging finger outta my's killin' me...come on Mack....this has gone far enough...uuuuuuhhhhhhhhh...that's feels weird....this is fucking weird shit man.....this is enough...come on dammit!" "Yeah T, it's a `friggin' finger alright, and that's just what you're gonna do now. Start friggin' and jerking, till I tell you to stop, or I swear, I'll get a couple of the guys over here, and we'll tie you down and do it get that you fuckin' pussy!" But ole' Tyler was too gone with the sensation to respond. He'd already reflexively begun to screw his long, thick finger in and out of his own butt, the gell beginning to cause his ass lining to itch uncontrollably and his finger and the bristles were the only way he could soothe it. Plus, his fuck nut was know drippin' in the melted gel, and the little bumps on the surface begged for the bristles at the same time his rooting finger made him feel like he was stuffed full and rubbing the most uncomfortable place in his body. His toes were tightly curled, and I leaned over to scratch one pale sole, just to see him jump from the added sensation.

His dick was now covered with the little red bumps, especially around his piss lips and the flange of his aching glans. He couldn't stop ramming the curved cock into the cylinder, just to find a way to get the bristles to soothe the maddening itch. Since his cock was curved, and the tube was round, he had to keep moving his fist to try and soothe each irritated spot. Tyler was masturbating himself to a giant ejaculation, and unbeknownst to him, his eyes closed and his lips gasping and moaning, I was video-taping his every lurching move on the bed. I egged him on: "Yeah, T, rub that bad boy dick, beat it to submission, that's what you gotta do dick-brain, work that cock until it stops telling you what to do every day. We're gonna give you these treatments every night for a week, and then you're gonna start going for days without shooting your shit. You're gonna learn self-discipline, and that undisciplined cock is only gonna get fuck duty and cum relief when we give it permission." "Maybe me and the guys will vote about when you will be allowed take some girl out and screw her silly, and we'll draw straws to see who gets to unlock your cock cage. You'll have to have an asshole inspection, and even between your toes, and inside your navel, to make sure you're keeping clean and stickin' to the regimen. You're gonna be a good boy from now on T, and that drippy boner of yours is gonna be under strict supervision. You'll be beggin' me to work off a load for you by the time we are through."

And you know, Tyler did. Within two months he was willing to suck my toes, lick my hairy asshole, sniff my balls in front of other guys, and milk his boner for an audience at my direction just to get a chance to relieve the spunk stored in his big, hanging nuts. He'd even let me scratch those big fuckers with a tooth brush while he howled, just for the hope of getting the brush on his dick outside of the confines of that infernal cock cage. But tonight, Tyler was in jerk-off heaven, working his index finger up his butt, and his prick up and down and every which way in the masturbating horsehair sleeve, getting ready to wrench a huge load of young male sperm from his overheated balls. "Oooooooooohhhh god......oooooooohhhh shit.....what're doing to me.....Mack......aaaaaahhhhhh....I can't stop.....I gotta itches....aaaaaawwwwwww fuckkkkkkkkk, it itches...piss, fuck shit..aaaggghhh!" I made him keep it up until old Tyler shot nine long, thick wads of starchy goo, and then I made him continue without taking a rest. The itching from the gel had not stopped, and he could not prevent his finger from moving back and forth in his asshole, and his fist from rotating around his bulging, red glans. When he came a half hour later, the second time, he was almost sobbing, pleading with me to help him. After I put down the video, I shot my own load in my pants while yanking his finger outta his butt, and slipping his aching schlong from the sleeve. He collapsed on my bed, passed out, and I got the chance to clean him up with a wash cloth while I checked out every inch of his hunky body with him lying spread and dead to the world. Tyler Martin was about to become a changed man, and that juicy dick was now under my control. I rubbed and plucked his succulent nips while I cleaned him up, and true to their disobedient character, the little rubbery nubs firmed up, longing for the kind of attention this fucking piece of horny boy-animal desperately wanted.


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