Out of Control

ooOoo

There are scenes of unprotected sex in this story, but it is between two consenting adults in a committed relationship. A condom is always advised when having sex with your partner :)

A special shoutout to my best friends turned beta readers: June, Jacques, Jesse and Neapolle. If there are mistakes on the grammar blame it on them :D

Comments are highly appreciated. Enjoy reading guys ^^ - red

ooOoo

"LAST SIXTY SECONDS! Fifty-five, fifty-three in favor of the Lions."

I was barely able to hear the announcer's voice over the roar of the crowd around the basketball court. The enemy's supporters were yelling at their team to defend, they were leading after all, but there's still a minute left, and the ball was in our possession.

So much could happen in such a little time.

Jeremy, our point guard, looked at me for a split second, then dribbled the ball back to our side of the court towards our forward Miggy, who was positioned near the free-throw area. Three of the enemy team's players were around Miggy, making sure he wouldn't be able to take a successful shot. Meanwhile I was running towards the outer edges of the shooting area, the enemy team not paying attention to what I was doing. Jeremy feigned throwing the ball to Miggy, then at a split second passed it to me. Without giving the enemy the time to react, I aimed at the basket, praying for this shot to get in. I threw.

The ball made a perfect

thunk

as it entered right in the middle of the hoop. Our crowd cheered.

"THREE POINTS FROM NUMBER 15. Fifty-six, fifty-five in favor of the Falcons. Last 20 seconds!"

I looked at the direction of the cheering crowd, searching for somebody in particular. It didn't take long to find him. Our school's dominant color was yellow, but he texted me before the game that he would be wearing a neon orange shirt, just like the color of my shoes. He sat there, waving his little flags, his smile even brighter than the shirt he was wearing. He looked at me with such pride that I couldn't help but feel elated for having made the winning shot, when all of a sudden his expression turned into that of panic. I looked at the direction he was facing. The crowd was deafeningly silent.

Mike from the Lions had snatched the ball from our team's hands, then sprinted all the way to their side of the court. He stopped right inside the two-point field goal area, then shot the ball. The whole time I was on the other end of the court, chasing him would have been pointless. I could only offer a silent prayer to all gods that were listening to make the shot miss.

The basketball made its descent, still aimed towards the ring.

Don'tshootdon'tshootdon'tshoot,

I chanted in my head over and over again.

The gods didn't listen.

"HE SHOOTS! Fifty-seven for the Lions. LAST EIGHT SECONDS."

My team made a desperate rebound, but I knew it was pointless. The ball couldn't make it in time.

"FIVE! FOUR! THREE! TWO! ONE!"

The buzzer blared, amplifying the uproar of the crowd. All of a sudden the court was full of people and I felt the adrenaline from the game leave me. All I wanted was to go home, but we had to shake the hands of the winners first. Our coach would kill us if we didn't. Mike approached me first, his face clearly goading. Mike was the point guard of the Lions, their captain and star player, and everyone in the university knew of our rivalry. Clearly this was a victory in his part and knowing him he wouldn't hesitate to rub it in my face.

"Well played bro," he said. "It's too bad your team couldn't block that last shot of mine," he added with a sneer, offering his hand. If nobody else was around I could've caught his hand in a vice grip and broke his arm, but many people were looking at us, wanting to know how I would respond to being defeated by my rival.

Seeing as I had no choice but to do the sportsmanlike action, I took his hand and congratulated him, but my smile could not reach my eyes no matter how hard I tried. The rest of the team followed, and the same bland congratulations was all that I could give. I was frustrated, and there was only one person I wanted to see.

I approached the bench where my bag was, scanning the crowd for him. Thinking that he was waiting for me outside, I took my bag and started for the exit. I was almost out of the gym when someone from behind grabbed my arm. I looked back and saw MIggy.

"Chris, coach wants to talk to the team," he said. I slump my shoulders, I planned on going away as soon as possible so that I may not be there when Coach talks to us. Miggy saw the expression in my face and tugged my arm.

"Come on, you're the Captain, you have to be there," Miggy insisted.

I sighed, then followed him to where the rest of the team was. I checked my phone to see if I received a text message from anyone, but there were none. I was starting to get irritated,

where was he?

I looked around and was only interrupted from my search by Coach asking us to sit down.

At twenty-six years old Coach was older than us by only six years, but he had been the star of our college's basketball team during his time, bringing our college to four consecutive championships during his four years in undergraduate. He had a very expressive face, not making it hard to determine what he felt with our performance. Right now he was clearly disappointed.

"Twenty seconds," he said softly, "you were already celebrating your victory when there were still twenty seconds to the game. Mike was practically walking underneath your noses while you were all busy cheering, all the while forgetting that there was still a game going on!"

Despite the increasing volume of his voice, I wasn't able to listen much to the rest of what the coach said. I was angry at myself, for being distracted and allowing the enemy free reign of the ball. My frustration was eating me up from inside, like a monster slowly making its way out. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths, hoping it would help. Coach noticed me.

"Chris, is everything alright there?" he asked, his face concerned. The rest of the team looked at me in sympathy.

I shook my head, "Not really, I just want to go home," I replied.

Coach considered me for a moment, then nodded, "Very well, let's wrap this up for now. There's no point crying over spilled milk. But rest assured I won't be tolerating the same mistake in the future. You all did your best, and despite our loss you still gave the enemy a good fight."

Coach waved us off, and we each went our separate ways. The gymnasium was mostly empty now, with only a few people taking pictures and talking of the game. I made my way to my car, which was parked a bit far away from the gym. I had a difficult time finding a parking spot before the game, as the parking lot was packed.

Despite my conscious effort to clear my head, the last minute of the game keeps replaying on my mind, along with the image of Mike sneering and the gloating look in his eyes. My frustration wouldn't go away. I needed release. I checked my phone once more, still no message from him. I was getting angry.

A rustle of footsteps made me look up. He was there.

Johan. He had on a white shirt now, smiling at me. I wanted to yell at him, tell him that I had been looking for him and ask him why he couldn't even send a single text message. But I was beyond control of words now, and the monster inside me has already come out, seeking to be satiated.

I lunged at him, attacking his mouth with my own. This took him by surprise, and he whimpered as I pressed myself on him, his back against the car. I wrapped my left arm around him and pulled him closer as my right arm grabbed the car keys from my pocket. I pulled him away as I opened the door of the backseat, our lips still not breaking contact. I pushed him to the backseat, then went in and closed the door.

I tugged his arm and half-carried, half-pulled his legs, forcing him to sit on my lap, his legs around my waist. I pressed our lips together once more, my tongue seeking entrance to his lips. He resisted for a moment, but I pinched his nipples through the fabric of his shirt and he let out a loud gasp. My tongue explored his mouth as my hand touched all parts of him that I could reach. My hips ground against him, and I was sure he could feel the hardness in my groin.

I pulled back from our kiss, and saw his lips were swollen and bruised. His gray eyes were dilated in lust, and his hair, usually coiffed, was now a mess. The sight of him so ravaged made me growl with desire. I was out of control now. I pulled off his shirt, my mouth licking and biting his nipples as soon as they were exposed. He was trying his best not to make a sound, but our ragged breaths filled the car. It was cramped inside the car, but this wasn't new to us, having done this a lot of times before. I pulled his shorts down and saw the bulge in his boxers, wet from excitement. I pulled his boxers off too, and threw them beside us. He was entirely naked now, his cock demanding attention. I traced his lean torso, his flat stomach. I could do everything I wanted with him and he knew it.

He raised himself a little as I pulled my shorts and underwear down, freeing my cock from their confinements. My cock rubbed against the crack of his ass, leaking precum as I searched my bag for a bottle of lube I always carry around with me. I looked at him once more, giving him a chance to say no, but his eyes were unfocused with desire. I squirted a generous amount of lube into my fingers, and applied them to his hole.

I put one finger inside his ass, kissing him to mask the groans of pleasure coming from his mouth. It wasn't hard for him to open up, as we fucked earlier that morning before I went to the game. He wanted to say something, but I was sucking at his lips. I pulled my mouth from him.

"Just fuck me already!" he growled.

I lubed my cock, and in one swift motion I impaled him with my entire length. He moaned, and I froze, fearing that someone could have heard us.

I grabbed his shirt and stuffed it in his mouth, "This will shut you up little whore."

Johan's groans and moans were muffled as I pounded into him, my mouth biting and sucking at his nipples, my right hand pumping his cock. This was something entirely in my control. I was a wild predator devouring its prey. I was not making love to Johan, I was fucking him.

We were in too deep that I haven't noticed that Johan has spit out his shirt, his groans now increasing in volume while I pumped his cock. His breath became more ragged and his ass clenched on my cock tighter, causing shivers of pleasure flow through my entire body, signaling that he was getting close. I pumped faster. Moments later jets of cum flew out of his cock and splattered all over my chest and my face. I opened my mouth to catch a few of them.

Johan collapsed on me, his cock now starting to soften in my hand, but I wasn't done yet. We kissed once more, sharing his cum in our mouths as I slid my cock in and out of his hole. He met my every thrust, and it wasn't long before I felt the churning in my balls. I quickened my pace, my arms tight around Johan's chest. I came inside him with a groan.

We lay there for a few moments, me sitting on the middle of the backseat, him still straddling on my hips, trying to catch our breaths. I got my towel from our bag and we cleaned up our mess. We put our clothes back on in silence. My thirst was sated, my frustration decreased, but something else started to stir inside me.

"Are you gonna drive me home?" Johan asked.

"My parents won't be home for tonight, do you want to stay with me? I can't stand being alone tonight," I told him, almost imploringly. He looked at me and smiled.

"Of course," he answered, then took the car keys from my hand, "I'll drive, you look tired."

I argued at first, but he insisted until I had to give in. We were silent on the drive home, guilt starting to overwhelm me as I thought of how I treated him earlier.

"I'm sorry," I said. He raised his eyebrow.

"For what?" he asked.

"For what I did earlier. I shouldn't have forced myself on you."

He rolled his eyes. "Forced? There must be something terribly wrong with your memory if you can't remember that I willingly gave in to you the whole time," he said almost laughingly, "besides I love it when you get rough."

I still wasn't convinced, mentally castigating myself for losing control. Johan, probably sensing my fix, pulled over the side of the road. He lifted my chin up so that we were face to face, his other hand holding my own.

"Look Chris," he began, "you had a bad day, and I know how it feels to have something almost in your hands, only to be taken away at the last instant. But I made a promise to you before that you have me no matter what, and here I am. I enjoyed, screw that, thrived at the thrill of what we did earlier, and I wouldn't mind doing it again and again. I know you love me and wouldn't do anything to hurt me."

I looked at him the whole time he was saying this, the streetlights lighting him up in an angle that showed his gray eyes full of sincerity and love, his face filled with compassion. He pulled me close into a hug, and that's where I broke down.

I released all my pent up sadness and frustration in his arms, tears flowing nonstop from my eyes. He pulled me tighter, giving me the support I badly needed that time. I don't know how long we stayed in that position by the side of the road. Minutes, probably more than an hour later I stopped crying. Johan looked me in the eyes once more.

"Feel better now?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered, which was true.

"Good, because I can't wait to go home and change out of this wet shirt. You do cry like a water cannon," he teased.

I playfully punched him in the arm, and we laughed. He started the car, and we headed for home.

We arrived a few minutes later. I waited for him at the front door as Johan parked the car. As he approached the light from our porch showed the bruised in his neck from how I held them earlier in the car, making me cringe in guilt. He saw my expression and sighed in exasperation.

"You big baby, I told you I'm fine," he said, rubbing his neck, "and it's hot when you mark me like this. Makes the world know I'm yours."

"I love you," I said, grabbing his body close for a hug.

"I love you too," he whispered in my ear. Then he inhaled deeply.

"God, I love your smell after a game, but I'm not going to bed with you unless you shower," he said.

"Well," I purred into his ear, "I'm not going into the shower unless you're coming with me."

He pretended to think it over, "Fine, but no funny business," he warned.

I raised my hands in mock resignation, "No funny business." He laughed.

We went inside the house, then proceeded to the shower after dumping our stuff in my room. We were alone at home, my parents at a relative's house and wouldn't be home until the next day.

We stepped into the shower, the water rinsing us of the dirt and grime of the day. Johan soaped me first, taking his time with my chest and my abs, brought by many years in active play. He kneaded the muscles at my back and around my neck. His hands all over my body and his naked body ensured that I had a boner the whole time he was soaping me, but he ignored my cock. He knelt to soap my legs, his face so close to my length that I can feel his breath over the tip of my cock, but he didn't even touch it. He was teasing me. I pulled him up and took the soap from him.

"Your turn," I said. Revenge time.

I started on his pectorals, making sure to deliberately brush his nipples. My touch and the warm water turned them into hard stubs in seconds. Then I lowered my hands to his abs. Johan had an amazing body. He was part of our university's PEP squad, and that's where I first met him two years ago. We were having a practice basketball game at the gym and the PEP squad was also there, practicing their routines. The squad was then trying to find out who among the girls would be lifted for stunts, and Johan was among the boys who were in the middle of the human pyramid, so they have to be graceful enough to do stunts while lifted yet also strong enough to lift other people.

I was distracted during that practice, seeing the way his muscles flexed as he lifted a girl and the fluidity of his dance routines back in the ground. He was so sexy and I wanted him. Fate made us meet again once more a month later. I was making my way towards the gym for our weekly practice, and I was running late, fearing Coach's punishment for tardiness. When I arrived in the gym I noticed it was empty. I checked my phone and found out that our practice was moved to another court. I cursed out loud.

"They should announce it months before to the whole student body if they wish to renovate the gym, it tends to disrupt some carefully made plans," I heard someone say from behind me. I looked back and saw him, wearing an oversized shirt and some sweatpants. Despite that he still looked hot. Warmth rushed through my body, rendering me speechless.

Speak dumbass!

I scolded myself.

I must have looked stupid there looking at him. He laughed.

"I'm sorry for taking you by surprise. We were supposed to have a rehearsal today here in the gym for our contest tomorrow, but the university's been kind enough not to inform us so we have to look for another place to practice. Bugger," he went on.

"Ugh, yeah," I responded (

Finally!)

, "and now I'm late for my practice. I'm dead."

Yes, a sentence!

"You're from the basketball team right? I've seen how your coach would run you to the point of collapse for every mistake."

"Don't remind me," I said. I offered my hand, "I'm Chris, by the way."

"I'm Johan, and yes I know you," he smiled, "who doesn't know the best rookie in the Falcon's basketball team? I've seen all your games and you were great! I'm a big fan."

"I'm not the best, but I'm working on it" I replied modestly, but inside I was reeling,

He's been to all my games!

His phone beeped. "Look," he began after reading the message," I have to go. It was nice finally getting to meet you Chris."

I hated for this meeting to end, but I also had to go. I decided to take a chance.

"Hey, can I get your number? I would love to hang out with you sometime," I said.

The smile on his face suggested that it was a good idea. "Sure!"

We traded numbers, and I texted him that night. The rest was history.

I was interrupted from my reverie by Johan's arms on my shoulders.

"I appreciate you worshipping my hot body, but unless you wish to turn us into prunes we have to get out of the shower soon," he snickered.

"Sorry, just distracted," I said. I wasn't finished teasing him, however. I turned him around so I was facing his back, and I knelt down and soaped his buttocks. I kneaded the tight muscles there, appreciating the round globes. Then I spread the cheeks apart, exposing his pink hole. I traced my fingers along the crack, pausing a bit at the hole, earning me a shudder from him. I did this again and again, and when I finally felt satisfied that he was as aroused as me, I stood up and rinsed us off. After drying ourselves I took his hand and led him to bed.

Johan laid down on the bed, his legs apart, inviting me to join him. I stood at the edge of the bed looking at his submissive pose, until now amazed at how someone can willingly give himself to me. I climbed on top of him and positioned myself between his legs, grinding our erections together. Johan's eyes were half-lidded with desire, his mouth enticingly open. Unlike the wild, uncontrolled fuck we had in the car earlier, we're going to make love tonight.

I fell on top of him and kissed his lips, still a little swollen from my earlier ravishing. Our cocks are leaking precum now as they rubbed against each other. I licked along his chin, then gave his neck a playful bite. Then slowly I moved to his chest, kissing my way down to his abs, then to the treasure trail leading to his cock. I held his dripping cock with my hand.