A Sizeable Difference

A Sizeable Difference V - Cadence

There was a guy passed out on the yard out front, and his friends were trying to get him up. Beer, vodka, tequila. People smoking something funny. Inside, the lights were low and the music, loud. Boys and girls had their arms around each other.

It was party night.

Nate arrived alone. He knew his teammates would be there, but, honestly, he was still to make friends with anyone since he'd moved to Baltimore, and looked about the room a little lost, not sure if he should have come.

He had hoped to get here with Rod, at least. For some reason, his roommate had been very nice to him lately, even smiling now and then. But he and that hunk still weren't exactly buddies, and the boy lost any hope he was beginning to feel when the Linebacker left for the party early, without a warning. Nate almost gave up on going out.

But staying alone in his dorm room would be just too depressing.

He noticed how big this house was, and how hard it was to tell how many people were in here right now. Stretching his neck over the crowd, he only found three or four familiar faces, people from some of his classes, but not really anybody he could approach out of the blue like that. He sighed, reminded of how little friends he had in high school as well, and decided to go grab something to drink. Booze usually helps in times like this.

As he tried to get past the sea of couples dancing and making out, he heard a big commotion coming from where he guessed the beer kegs would be, a very familiar ruckus, though it sounded a little rowdier than usual.

The Baltimore Barbarians were standing around a foosball table, drunk. One of them had apparently spilled his drink over it, and was now being joshingly scolded by his colleagues.

When Nate got closer, one of the studs recognized him, a short, stocky guy with an upturned nose, whose dick the boy remembered being nice, uncut, hanging to the right. He shouted Nate's name as if they were very good friends, then proceeded to give him a lighthearted noogie as the rest of the team took notice of him as well, and began effusively patting him on the back, promptly getting a beer in his hands.

The boy smiled shyly, a little flustered by their warm welcome, confused to find himself surrounded by so many friendly faces all of a sudden.

He was usually so worried about keeping his distance from them, afraid they'd see him naked, or notice his stares, or smell the Assistant Coach's cum on his chest, that he never had the opportunity to talk to his teammates and get to know them better than just memorizing how each of their dicks looked. All he knew about them he had overheard as they talked to each other, with a towel on their shoulders and their cocks swinging freely. But now, for a change, those jocks all had their pants on, and he wasn't smelling of anything suspicious.

He could finally relax and enjoy the company of those handsome hunks, although "relaxation" wasn't exactly the effect they had on him.

The stud playing foosball scored a point, and there was another big commotion. The guy he was playing against cursed out loud, very angry, grabbed a shot glass from the counter nearby, took a deep breath and slammed it, coughing and cursing again before stepping aside.

Turns out they were playing against the boys from the basketball team, and this last game had brought them to a tie.

"Hey, Nate!" one of his teammates, Black and tall, shouted over the music, pulling him close enough so that they could hear each other. "Are you any good at this?" he asked, pointing at the little plastic men on the table, but Nate took a while to give him an answer, instead picturing his dick, whose hefty, cleanly shaved balls were just too big to fit in someone's mouth both at the same time, a dark choking hazard he would love to play with.

"Yeah, I guess I'm good," he eventually replied.

"You sure?" the big guy pressed on, his tone very serious as he arched his thick eyebrows and squeezed Nate's shoulder with his strong grip.

The boy didn't get why he was being so intense.

"Yeah, I used to play it when I was a kid," he tried to reassure him.

"Good, then you're next. We need a win, dude."

Nate looked around and noticed all the other guys had that same face on, a fierce, confident smile he hadn't seen on them yet. He was starting to get it now, they were taking this game seriously.

And so should he.

When the basketball team agreed on who'd play for them now, Nate's teammates pushed him forward, cheering him on. His cup was still almost full, so he decided to chug it, partly wanting to impress the rest of the guys, partly trying to psych himself up, and indulge his competitive side, eager to get into the same mindset as everybody else. The Barbarians approved his attitude loudly, shouting his name once again, and began taunting their rivals, promising they'd crush them now and get this over with.

The rules were simple. One shot of cheap vodka for each point scored by the other side, first one to do five shots loses.

And the game began. Over the next ten minutes or so, Nate tried his best to follow the little ball's rapid movements in that dimly lit room, getting drunker every time he failed to, and celebrating every new point with a little more enthusiasm, just like his teammates, who began grabbing and hugging him a little harder every time, even though that, coupled with all the shots he had done so far, made it even harder for him to focus back on the game.

He was gritting his teeth, trying to isolate everything else on the room from his mind, grabbing the table's metal rods almost as hard as he used to grab the dicks served to him on the glory hole, jerking and twisting them with the expertise you'd expect from a cocksucker of his caliber, sharpening his senses to their upper limits, almost guessing where the ball would go next, and reacting with lightning fast reflexes to the hard kicks that were giving him so much trouble, patiently waiting for the time he'd have possession of the ball, defending another hard hit, watching his opponent pause for a second before striking again, trying to break his rhythm and catch him off balance, but he defended it again, blowing his teammates' minds as he finally got the ball, kicked it to the goal without thinking, trying not to give his rival time to think either, then rapidly hit it again after that guy defended it by pure chance, and again after he defended it by sheer luck, until he finally scored the point, and felt a jolt of happiness trespass his body like a lightning bolt and his senses, still very heightened by all the adrenaline, overwhelmed by the way his teammates' strong arms crushed his shoulders, and squeezed his chest as they lifted him from behind, their deafening shouts suddenly bringing him back to Earth, back to that crowded party, where everyone had turned their head to find out why those boys were making so much noise.

He had won.

And for the first time on his life, Nate felt what it was like to be the object of several men's adoration at the same time, all of them trying to squeeze his body as hard as they could, making it hard for him to breathe, drowning him in muscles, forcing him against their rock hard pecs as they lifted him from the ground, his feet dangling in the air as at least two of the jocks pressed their crotches against his thighs and butt at any given moment, while the others looked for an opening to dive in as well, almost fighting over the chance to give him one more bear hug, shouting as ecstatically as only drunk men know how to, holding him so close, so tight, that he could feel the smell of each of their sweaty, testosterone filled bodies, making him wish he knew all the distinct, individual scents they were overpowering him with by heart, just like he could picture each of the cocks poking him in the celebratory confusion, until all the hunks had shown him how rough they could be when euphoric, and how they'd love to crush him under the joy they were feeling.

It was bliss.

Then someone offered him a congratulatory drink, and things began getting a little fuzzier.

***

"Just look at how hot she is," he said out of nowhere, grabbing Nate and turning him toward a group of people in the middle of the room.

The boy looked to his left and saw that the man passing his arm around his shoulders was Sean. He looked at the girl the Quarterback was pointing to, guessing she was the one he constantly talked about in the showers, then turned his attention back to his green eyes, so close to his face right now, almost glowing in the dark with excitement. The stud was dressed very nice, like he wanted to impress someone, in a white shirt a little too tight for him, or maybe just tight enough, clinging to his torso and leaving almost none of his muscles to the imagination, its sleeves casually rolled up above his elbows, revealing his well-defined forearms, lightly covered in red hair.

Every time the redhead approached him, Nate could feel a warmth spreading inside, from the pit of his stomach up to his chest, making his heart go faster, then spreading back down to his crotch, filling it with blood. But now, with their faces so close together, and feeling more than a little inebriated, that warmth inside of him felt even hotter, almost feverish, and went all the way up to the back of his neck, where the touch of the jock's arm made his skin tingle, then down to his pelvis like a torrent, inundating his hips and thighs with its electricity, making them remarkably sensitive to how close the hunk's muscular body was, and making his ass feel strange, like there was something missing in it.

Then he remembered to breathe.

Sean turned his gaze to the boy in his arms, and patted his chest in a friendly manner, inadvertently grazing his nipple, and giving him one of his white, flirty smiles, his pink lips still moist from the beer he had just sipped, almost close enough to kiss, so soft, so inviting. So tempting.

Nate had had enough liquor to feel confident, and passed his left arm around the Quarterback's unexpectedly slim waist, resting his hand a little over the bone, feeling the defined muscles he loved so much under his white shirt and pulling him in a little closer, reciprocating his sideways hug, lightly running the tip of his fingers along the stud's pronounced V-line.

The sides of their butts were touching a little.

The ginger didn't seem to care, or maybe just took it for a friendly, physical greeting. He leaned his head even closer and talked into Nate's ear, tickling it with his hot breath.

"Let's go, you're my wingman."

...What?

"Wingman," he insisted, now using the way they were locked in each other's arms to drag his teammate forward. "Come on, she's with a friend, and you're just cute and shy enough to keep her busy while I talk to my girl. Come on."

The boy's mind had a hard time processing what was happening. Did Sean just call him cute?

He only snapped out of it when the ginger began introducing him to the girls, promptly striking up a conversation with one of them and leaving him to deal with the friend. It all happened so fast that Nate didn't know how to feel about it.

Part of him was still shaken by the way Sean had embraced him, and his submissive side would always be pleased to do whatever that jock told him to. But he was asking for help getting some alone time with this girl, and on top of that he wanted him to keep this other one busy. Nate wasn't so sure about that.

But of course, he did what he could.

The girl he was left with was very friendly, and a few moments were enough to make it clear that she was into him. That happened sometimes, it wasn't unusual for a girl to get interested in Nate and suddenly become very nice to him, which he always did his best to deflect. Being hit on by girls was flattering, sure, but he always felt sad for them wasting their time on him like that.

This time, though, he tried to be polite, and keep her talking while his teammate did his thing.

He kept looking at the Quarterback from time to time. Sean was all over that girl, almost holding himself not to grab her, clearly very excited. Her feelings, on the other hand, weren't as clear. It appeared she was giving mixed signals, sometimes obviously teasing him, touching his chest and abs lightly, just to lose interest for no apparent reason and make him work hard to grab her attention again. Almost as if she enjoyed driving him crazy.

Nate was beginning to understand why the hunk complained so much about her playing hard to get. She was clearly toying with him.

And blue balls are no joke.

On the other hand, though, that game of cat and mouse was awakening several, conflicting feelings inside of him. The longer he stared at the stud, the hotter the warm feeling inside of him was getting, but also the more he envied the way she could make him so turned on, so fired up. Fuck, how could she be this dumb? Couldn't she see how lucky she was to get that jock in that state?

"Hey! You there?" the girl Nate was supposed to keep entertained asked, fed up that his attention kept drifting toward the other couple.

"Sorry," he said half-heartedly, immediately glancing at Sean once again, which, of course, wasn't much appreciated.

The girl sighed and walked away, and he said "Fuck!" realizing he had messed up. But it was too late now, she was gone.

At least she didn't walk back to her friend, though, and the hunk was still free to keep up with his game.

Nate stepped back a little, still paying attention to the Quarterback. He gulped his beer, a little anxious with all the feelings overwhelming him, and his vision got a little hazier still. All he could see now was Sean, and the way he kept working that girl. Fuck. How lucky she was.

And the boy spent the next several minutes fantasizing that stud was doing all those things to him instead, and felt goosebumps at every little touch, every little caress, every little attempt to arouse. He could feel it when the Quarterback took a step closer, even closer, and began absentmindedly running his hand over the small of Nate's back, like it was nothing much, laughing at the simplest of things he said, flirty, easy, leaning in to talk into his ear again, because of how loud the music was, using that moment to graze his cheek against Nate's face, and sniff his neck slightly, turning his head just enough so that his lips would touch the boy's skin for a second, almost in a soft kiss, letting out a moan of approval, closing his eyes and making some small compliment about how good he smelled, then backing away, looking down for a second, then raising his gaze slowly, running it all over Nate's body until their eyes met, his stare burning intensely, making his dirty intentions very clear, his thoughts transparently transfixed by one objective only, just for that look to then disappear all of a sudden, his eyes back to their sweet, unconvincing innocence, like a naughty boy who is lying, not to deceive, but simply because he likes to play games.

And all that time his body language only made one single request.

"Give in to me."

It was clear how skilled Sean was, a romantic go-getter, very intense, a little dominant, just enough, in a sweet yet overwhelming way that made it impossible not to lower your guard and let him in. How good would it feel if he actually looked at Nate like that? If that jock ever worked that hard to seduce him, to light his fire, to win him over?

Although, of course, Nate would never play so hard to get.

And watching the ginger in that state, ready to go but having to work so hard for the chance to get off, made the warmth inside him peak, and the boy felt an intense urge, a devastating longing, a feeling very similar to the one he got whenever it had been too long since his last visit to the glory hole, only stronger, all-consuming. He'd give anything for the chance to give the Quarterback the relief he was being so cruelly deprived of. He'd give anything for a chance to take care of Sean's heat.

Then he got the impression that someone was watching him.

Nate looked around, not sure of where it was coming from, then noticed a tall guy staring at him from the other side of the room.

The orange light illuminating the place where he stood made his brown skin shine in a golden hue, contrasting nicely with his green plaid shirt. Being big like that, and towering over the girls around him, Rod was an easy guy to spot.

The Linebacker looked at Nate, straight into his eyes, in a blank, unsettling way. Then he sipped on his drink, slowly turned his head toward Sean, stared at the Quarterback for a second, and turned his eyes back to his roommate, now sporting a small, knowing smile.

...What did that mean?

The boy looked away, flustered, pretending he hadn't noticed Rod's presence. But his curiosity was just too strong, and he looked back up again, only to see the hunk's smile become a little bigger, a little more meaningful still.

Fuck. Did he notice something?

Nate's head began spinning. Maybe it was the shock, or maybe all those shots he had done, but he felt dizzy all of a sudden. He walked away, not sure of where he was headed, until he found himself back with the rest of the boys, who were now drunkenly arguing over who was NFL's best Wide Receiver this season.

The Black, broad-shouldered guy who had a dick just short enough that Nate was sure he could deepthroat it all day long, but still long and thick enough to make it a fun challenge, stretching his gullet open as he plunged his cock in, maybe holding the top of his head firmly in place so that he wouldn't try to run away, thought it was the one for the Buccaneers, but the guy with blond, unkempt hair, whose dick the boy could remember being fat and bushy, and whose balls hung so low you could see them from his rear side, dangling between his thick legs and perfectly round butt cheeks, making it impossible not to dream about lying down under him as he warmed up doing squats every morning, seeing those testicles come down from a privileged point of view, complete with a hairy asshole revealing itself whenever he got closer down, resting his nuts over Nate's face, teasing him with their warm touch, their hefty weight and their musky, delectable smell, before finally getting tired and simply kneeling down so that the boy could give them a tongue bath, was clearly right, it was the one for the Panthers.

Nate wondered how he'd go about sucking them both at the same time, if he ever had to.

He lost his balance, reclined against the closest wall, then looked up at the ceiling, noticing how fast it was spinning, then down at his feet, in a head movement he swore never to make again.

What was the deal with that little smile?

Someone grabbed his shoulder and asked if he was okay in a thick Texas accent. It was the handsome guy with short black hair, gorgeous blue eyes, and a cleft, manly chin, whose dick had no curvature at all, just a stiff, throbbing, beautiful slab of man meat as long and straight as a steel beam that he'd love to suck as hard as he could, kneeling down at that stud's feet and doing his best to make him feel as good as he deserved, licking his cock and balls with utmost care, making sure not to neglect any part of it, going through every nook and cranny of his crotch, specially on his nuts, the underside of his ballsack, getting more and more intoxicated by its unique smell, lapping it up eagerly and slowly losing his mind over how overpowering it felt, but still keeping it together in order to suck it as well as he was entitled to, hitting that dickhead against the back of his throat and running his tongue all over the shaft as he swallowed it, for as long as it took to have the honor of witnessing it very up close when his large testicles began retracting in strong spasms as he shot his load all over the boy's face, rope after rope after rope, reducing him to a huge mess as he used his warm, thick cum to claim him and mark him as his property, just a piece of meat to be used and abused however that smoking hot jock wanted to.