Kyle couldn't deny it. He wanted to follow Myles under the stadium.
He wanted to suck that cock.
Even with his wife and parents and kids in that stadium.
Even with this oldest son out on the field.
Even with those damn busybodies, Mike and Gloria Kaminski, at the concessions stand.
He wanted to go under the stadium, get on his knees, and just be NEAR that black cock.
And yet... it wasn't just the cock he loved.
His new crew of black lovers--fuck, did he really have a crew of them? FUCK!--they just had
something
that got to him, something he didn't know was there for more than 40 years of his life.
The look in their eyes. Their swagger. Their smirks. Their laughter. Their confident hands. And yes, their cocks and balls and beautiful, sleek, ebony muscle--FUCK!
He had to do it.
With one more look over his shoulder, he grabbed Myles's hand.
"I should get my head examined, doing this," he muttered with a nervous laugh.
"Don't worry, baby." Myles tugged him along. "I'll cum quick and get you back to your wife and kids."
Kyle grimaced but made no protest. His dick had started to swell, and his asshole had that dull vibe humming in its pucker, a deep-seated buzz that had become familiar in the past several months, just waiting to burst into a tingle.
How had it come to this?
Kyle could remember leading one of his first girlfriends under a stadium very similar to this one, years ago, just to kiss her, after winning one of his own football games. Was he really now following a black man less than half his age and getting ready to suck that man's cock?
Yes. Yes, he was.
And his swollen dick twitched at the very thought.
FUCK! He ran a hand over his groin and gently squeezed it.
"It's gotta be REALLY fast," he muttered. "There're people around."
"Aw, we all private under here," Myles cooed. "Everyone too busy with their own shit."
Their feet crunched on littered trash as they made their way. The stadium's shadowy underbelly surrounded them with darkness, broken only by the undulating light of the crowd above them. Kyle looked up at the shifting shadows.
"Fuck. I hope no one looks down."
"They won't, handsome. They too busy looking at the game. Now get that off." Myles plucked at Kyle's sweatshirt.
Proud Dad of #7,
it said, boasting the mascot of Kyle's son's team.
"What? Why?"
"I don't wanna cum on that pretty sweatshirt, baby. Wouldn't look right with cum stains on ya when ya'll stand down on the field and you get that carnation."
Kyle looked doubtful. "I could just swallow your cum, like normal."
"Baby. You know you can't always catch it all in that pretty mouth." Myles patted Kyle's cheek.
The proud dad of #7 blushed. "Okay. But, seriously, I can't believe I'm doing this!"
Despite his protest, Kyle yanked off his cap and sweatshirt quickly enough. Myles hummed softly in appreciation as Kyle's broad, white shoulders and lightly feathered, gym-toned pectorals came into view. No longer sporting the abs of his youth--had he been a star, like his son? Myles imagined so--Kyle nevertheless had a flat stomach with light fuzz on it that almost thickened to a trail under his belly button. He was a beauty, a true standout among the other suburban dads.
"We gotta go fast!" Kyle rubbed his arms and shivered.
"I know, Kenny, baby." Myles unzipped his pants. "But we still gotta enjoy--"
Myles hesitated. There was a sudden movement behind them.
"What?" Kyle started to turn.
"Baby, hush!" Myles gripped Kyle's chin and kept him facing forward. "Kiss me."
Kyle huffed a laugh, but offered his lips easily enough. Myles pressed their mouths together, keeping an eye on the shadowy figure following them at distance.
Was that--
It was!
Well, fuck!
It was Mike, the nosey dad from concessions, slipping into the stadium's depths behind them. To spy.
Myles chuckled. White dudes! If this guy wanted a little show, Myles could sure give him one. He raised his voice slightly.
"Baby," he said, louder than necessary, "I can be fast if you SUCK GOOD!"
Kyle's teeth chattered slightly as he smiled and licked his lips from the kiss. "Oh, I'll be good! Now, c'mon! Get it out! I'm cold! I can NOT believe--"
"And baby--say, you better get outta yer pants, too, doncha think? I don't wanna spill on ya!"
Kyle gave Myles a wry look. "Are you trying to get me naked, man?" He giggled nervously and glanced again at the shifting shadows of the crowd above them.
Myles flashed a wide smile. "C'mon, baby." He eyed Mike's crouching figure. I'll give ya a show to remember, he thought.
"Aggh!" Kyle's face flushed with excitement. "Fine!"
Kicking off his shoes, he scrunched down his jeans and soon stood before Myles in nothing but a pair of white designer briefs and his wedding ring.
"Fuck!" Myles couldn't believe it. The poor son of a bitch really did trust him. He gave Kyle the once-over as the dark figure of Mike slipped closer, peeking from behind a girder.
"Baby, I dig your undies!" he gripped Kyle at the hips. "Can I have them?"