Bait and Switch

Chapter 1

The rush of the wind tore the drenching sweat off my face as I sprinted across the endless perfect green grass of the football field. Each stride of my toned legs another two yards closer to a touchdown. My calves were on fire, the opposing defensive backs filled the periphery of my vision, the goalpost towered over me. But I gripped the football tighter and ran. From both directions men leaped towards me and I jumped. The line was in sight- THERE!

I crossed the end zone and threw the football down. "FUCK YEAH!" I screamed, a primal cry emerging from me.

The team rushed me in tackling hugs. A dozen sweaty men were surrounding me, knocking their hands against my helmet and punching me with joy.

"And that's game! Good scrimmage. First team, you got a lot to review that second team gave," our coach, Mr. Tillman shouted.

Second team. I hated that term. Sure, I was just a freshman and already a quarterback on my college's team, but I was still just second fiddle to the real one. I knew I was better than that. First team stomped away, all of them pushing each other and shit talking. Their quarterback Jonathan, a senior with blonde hair and a stunning body, stared at me for a moment. Hatred in his eyes.

Malcolm, my running back, jogged up to me with a devious grin and smacked my ass so hard I almost saw stars. "Hope that didn't hurt too much," he whispered in my ear. "Meet me in the locker room so I can check."

He winked and walked off. I was left there alone on the football field, the sting from his hand still resonating. What had just happened?

The locker-room was full of the team changing in and out of their clothes. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I took off my shirt and admired the body I worked so hard on. Perfectly smooth, hairless chest and six pack abs. Pecs, deltas, triceps and biceps that each had a workout routine I had perfected in high school. And of course... I pulled down my shorts and underwear and stared at my ass. Plumb waxed bubblebutt that was a handful to take in yet could squeeze down tight on even the biggest cock.

I saw a hairy bear of an upperclass man stare at me from the mirror as he walked by. He was the first teams' offensive line; I think his name was Henry or something. Nearly licking his lips at the sight. Good. Let him stare all he wanted.

I nearly began to walk to my locker to change clothes when a hand was on my ass. Turning in anger, I saw it was just Malcolm, still in his uniform, and relaxed. I stared at his chiseled jawline, his trimmed beard that hugged his face, his firm black eyebrows and large boyish eyes that hid devilish amusement.

"Come here," he said and led me to an abandoned shower, my clothes in my hand and thrown to the ground by the drain.

"You gonna check on that slap you gave?" I asked with a nervous smile. He was still wearing his shoulder pads and number 38 jersey that drenched the stall in the smell of sweat.

"Why don't you just turn around," he said.

I did as I was told. Even with all the muscle I had built, all my strength training, there was a secret I would die to keep.

Being ordered what to do by a man made my cock as hard as a rock.

Malcolm pushed his body against me and I felt the outline of his thick cock against my bare ass. Working his hips up and down so it slid right against the crack. A soft moan escaped my lips.

"That was fucking sexy when you showed those first team asshole who the real bosses were," he said to me as he grinded his dick against my hole. It felt so big I just wanted to rip that uniform stuck with sweat off him and shove his cock inside me.

He started to take off his clothes and I could hear each piece fall to the ground with a clang. First his jersey, then his shoulder pads. But he never stopped working his dick up and down.

"We deserve to own this football team, you and I," he said.

Then the pressure of his cock against me stopped and I had to force myself not to moan in disappointment.

The sound of elastic being pulled down, and the next time I felt something against my ass, it was the real thing. Thick and veiny and leaking precum right down my cheeks to the entrance of my hole.

"Thank you," I breathed out. I couldn't help myself.

He wrapped his hands around my chest and used his thumbs to gently touch my nipples. Sharp electric waves of pleasure shook through my body. I backed up further on his dick.

"Once I fuck you for a bit, let's switch and you can fuck my hole, okay quarterback?"

I paused for a moment. So Malcolm was like me too, desperate for cock inside him. Even though my legs were so toned they could probably crush watermelons, whenever it was my turn to top I froze up and just wished the guy could take control. But if it helped this god of a man feel good, I'd do my best.

"Okay," I said. "Just don't stop playing with me."

"Alright." He squeezed my nipples hard and I let out a loud groan of pleasure and pain.

"What was that?" a voice from the locker room came through.

"Shit!" Malcolm said.

He threw his hand over my mouth and stuffed four fingers down my throat. I tried to scream Stop, tried to shake my head, but his grip prevented me from doing anything but trying not to gag as his fingers worked their way to the back of my throat.

"Be quiet," Malcolm said, and humped me faster and faster. "Don't you dare let us get caught."

I wanted to moan, to scream out as his kept grinding faster and faster against my ass. But I was locked in his grip. All I could do was arch my back and push my ass against his cock so he could take even more pleasure from me.

He began to grunt, low and primal. I felt the sweat from his chest against my back. "I'm gonna stick it in," he said.

Please, I wanted to scream yes.

Then, from the crumbled pile of my shorts came the blaring ring of my phone. My eyes widened in terror. Someone was going to hear us.

Malcolm pushed me off him to the floor of the shower. "Answer it!" he said.

"We broke up," a sobbing female voice filled the phone. "I need you."

"Fuck!" I said out loud. It was Chloe, my best friend I'd made so far as a freshman. And this was her 3rd break up in only a semester and a month. She'd only been dating the guy for like three weeks. How was this happening now? Now that Malcolm and I were finally hooking up?

"Coming as fast as I can," I said to her. I looked up at Malcolm, and tried to ignore the beautiful hard cock dangling in front of my face.

"I can meet at your place in an hour, tops," I said to him.

In minutes, I was clothed and jogging across campus. At least I was getting cardio in.

It took near professional grade counseling, dozens of back rubs, buying two bottles of cheap wine, and a promise to binge season two of Gossip Girl next week, but Chloe was laughing and "officially over it" but 10pm. Aka three hours longer than when I'd promised Malcolm I'd meet him.

"You weren't busy, right?" she asked, sipping on her fourth glass of wine.

I almost said "No, just about to get some dick," but held my tongue. "Nothing too busy I couldn't help you." I checked my phone and saw Malcolm had sent five increasingly pissed messages. "Are you alright though?"

"Yeah! I'm honestly getting sleepy," she said.

"Okay. I might head out then."

She waved me off. I got up, smiled, turned, and then immediately texted apologizes to Malcolm. Waited.

"Are you seriously gonna ghost me?" he texted back.

"Come on, you know you want this," I typed out.

"Just because you're the sexy quarterback doesn't mean you can be an asshole."

I groaned. God damn it. And with that, the best shot I had to get laid tonight vanished. Sure there were a dozen other guys messaging me on Grindr, trying to hookup with the star football player. But I had standards. The only other chance I had was to go to the gay bar, The Renegade, and hope to meet someone there.

After spending way too long getting ready, picking out the best clothes, pregaming, and grabbing my fake ID, I jogged over to The Renegade. It was past 11. We were a good sized school and Friday nights this place was packed. It was a long-standing club with an old-fashioned wood structure and two floors with a balcony on the second where people smoked. The bouncer checked me in and then I was inside.

The overwhelming beat of dance music rocked the floor into my body through the soles of my feet as I walked in. The smell of alcohol and weed mixed with sweat bathed the dark dimly lit air as all I could see were a mass of figures standing and grinding on the dance floor. I moved through the crowd and to the bartender.

"Can I get you something?" a man asked. My eyes adjusted to the light and I saw a short man in his 60s that had dyed his balding combover a messy rainbow. His biceps looked like they couldn't lift a pillowcase, and his stomach was bulging.

"I'm okay," I said.

"Please, let me. You're such a cute little piece of pumpkin pie!" He grabbed my shoulder and groped it up and down.

"Really, I'm okay," I said louder.

"Why, because I don't have as much muscle as you?" he said. He used his other hand and grabbed my crotch. "It's about performance, don't you know."

I wanted to scream out. To throw him off me for touching me like that. But I was just frozen in fear. Even with all my muscle, I couldn't stop this older man from groping me wherever he wanted.

"He said he's okay," a husky, rough voice came. Two large arms gripped the rainbow man's and heaved them in one brutal motion. "Now beat it fuckface."

The figure came in, a large hairy man with a dark aura of dominance. It was too dark to see him clearly.

"T-thank you," I said. Not really sure what to say.

He nodded gruffly. Then took me in from the soles of my feet to my legs to my chest to piercing my eyes. Then he leaned in my ear.

I breathed in but it felt like all the oxygen had left. His voice was so low and intoxicating like a rumbling volcano of white-hot lava.

"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to regain my cool. "I got enough muscles to take care of myself."

The man looked at them like he was considering meat at a butcher. "Come on. We both know those things are just for show. You were frozen when that bitch half your size had his hands on you."

"No, I just..."

"Just what?" he asked. A smirk covered his face.

I couldn't say anything. He was right.

"Don't get me wrong," he said, so close to my ear I could feel the heat of his breath. "The show isn't bad. But clothes really don't suit a boy like you."

I felt a moan escape my lips.

"A boy like you needs to be naked. Tied down so he knows his place. Looking up at the man who put him there. And with a cock stuffed all the way down his throat."

My cock was rock hard in my pants.

"And tonight, I'm going to do all that to you. And then you'll beg me to keep doing more."

"Fuck..." I moaned out.

"Ready?" the man stepped back and held out his hand to me as an offer. I stared at him. And that's when I realized who it was.

He was big, a 6'2" man with a wild messy beard and even bigger mustache, bushy brown eyebrows, large stomach, and hair everywhere. His arms, legs, even chest peeking out of his plain cheap V-neck was covered in hair. On his head was a short cut, buzzed on the sides.

"You're first team's offensive line," I said in horror. It was Henry.

He laughed a deep quaking belly laugh. "Took you long enough."

"I made a mistake," I said, starting to breath fast.

"Yet your mouth seemed so eager just a few seconds ago to be filled."

I stared down at his crotch. "I'm leaving," I said.

"Eyes up, boy," he said with a cruel voice. It was an order. I immediately obeyed, staring him in the face and putting my arms behind my back. "Now leave already so I don't have to deal with you crowding the bar," he said.

I willed my feet to move, but couldn't. I just kept staring into those endless brown eyes.

I shouldn't. He wasn't even a 7 out of 10. He was burly and the opposite of toned, his grooming was sloppy. I could easily get with a guy twice as hot as him. But more than anything, he was first team. Scoring me was just something he could use to brag to his first team mates about, the hotshot second team quarterback who just turned out to be a stupid bottom horny enough to fall for his traps.

And yet I took his hand and let him lead me out of the bar.

As we got on the sidewalk he gripped my head and pulled it towards him. "Put your name and number in my phone," he said.

I nodded, and entered the information in. He looked it over.

"Asher. What a pretty little name you got there."

I felt my cheeks go red and wanted to go down on him right then and there. He looked down at my crotch then let out a low, cruel laugh. "Excited are we?"

When I realized Henry was staring at my hard-on, part of me wanted to cover it for some reason. He swiped down and gripped it tightly in his hands.

"Fuck," I moaned.

"You really want this, don't you?"

"Yes," I said. I was going to let him take everything.

"What the fuck bro?!" a voice came through.

I shook him off and turned in terror. The voice came from Malcolm.

It was like I woke up from a dream.

"You blew me off for a first team asshole?" Malcolm yelled.

"No, you don't understand," I said.

"Then what?" he said.

I turned to the man whose voice had entranced me in a daze just moments ago. Without that voice, that dominating presence, with the eyes of Malcolm, was he any different from the rainbow-haired man I had so easily brushed aside? No. I had to remind myself why I worked on my body six days a week, why I sacrificed so much. I had standards.

"I was just fucking with him," I said to Malcolm. "For kicks."

"What do you mean?" Malcolm asked.

"Making him think he could get in my pants. And then I was gonna drop the bomb."

Henry stood in between Malcolm and I and looked at Malcolm with melting lava in his eyes. "Whatever game this is, fuck off. Asher, shut up and come with me."

He gripped me by the back like iron and gestured to the street. One look at him and his face was terrifyingly cold, eyes frozen and brows against them. I could barely breath. I wanted to just walk with him so badly, to give in. But what if Malcolm talked? What if news spread to the team? And more than that, my ego pushed me back.

"Get off me," I said, pushing Henry away. I forced a laugh out. "You really think I'd fuck someone as fat as you? Offensive lines are supposed to be big, but you're really pushing the envelope, huh?"

Henry stared me down, mouth barely moving "Don't do this," he said, each word a venom that stung straight through my clothes.

"And- and," I struggled to get the words out. "I could see your cock rock hard hitting on me. Micro-penis is NOT my fetish."

"YOOO!" Malcolm screamed. He had his phone out, recording.

It was all lies. My chest was swirling with acid and it felt like I was going to throw up. Henry's eyes were slits of pure rage, his mouth about to shoot bile. I wondered if I was going to get my head beaten in.

Yet the scariest part was he didn't move at all. Just stayed there, like he was calculating something much, much worse. And then, ice shot down my spine that stayed the whole night.

Henry smiled the sickest smile I had ever seen.

"See you soon, Asher," he said, and walked away.

Malcolm ran up to me, slapping me on the back and laughing. Saying how epic the video was, how turned on he was by me taking charge.

He led me back to his room and stripped off his clothes, revealing his huge chiseled chest with bulging neck muscles and vein, then his rock-hard six-inch throbbing cock. And ripped the clothes off me and forced that wet 6 incher down my throat.

Each thrust drove deeper until the cock was slamming against my throat each time and my saliva had filled my mouth. He took his hand, pressed the back of my head to his base, and didn't let go. "Fuck I'm gonna cum!" he screamed. I gagged but spurts of red hot cum kept shooting down my throat.

"That felt amazing," he said. My cock was dripping pre-cum all over myself, desperate to be touched.

He stared down at it, then chuckled. For some reason, that made a stream of pre-cum burst out of me. "We'll get that next time, okay? I'm beat." And with that, he collapsed in bed.

I waited for a minute naked on the floor. But then realized he was being serious. The asshole was one of those guys. Once I had got my clothes back on, we waved goodbye and I did the jog of shame back to my empty double dorm room.

But the whole time, I couldn't get that image out of my head. Henry's smile. And his ominous words of 'See you soon.'

My straight roommate was still out partying, the night owl, so I laid down in my room and began to stroke my still hard cock. I thought back to Malcolm, and his gorgeous thick cock. How hot it tasted in my throat. How good it felt when he pressed his hand against the back of my head.

My mind drifted without trying to the club. And to the man who called me a good boy. And my cock got stiffer. I imagined what Henry would have done if I had gone with him. All he had said. I would have been tied down in front of him as he stared down at me, that predator look in his eyes as he gripped my cock like I was gripping mine now. And stroking it off, and telling me good boys were going to cum now or he'd punish me. And then he would shove his big hairy cock down my throat and-

I shot my load all over myself with a scream of pleasure. And just stared at myself in disbelief. The high from the sex came down and left me covered in my own cum and disgusted with what had gotten me there.

I definitely was not attracted to Henry, hell no. It was just... that he was a Dom. That was it. I sat up, and opened up Grindr, feeling the cum dripping down my chest. I didn't need that man whose words could get me to do anything. I just needed my normal, fit, muscular men. Who now were also a Dom. I promised myself from then on, no matter what, I would never let Henry touch me again.

[Chapter 2 coming soon.]