Star Goalie Sequel Ch 03

Star Goalie Sequel Ch 03

The New Pairings Take Hold in Williamsburg

This is the third chapter of the sequel to "Miguel Our Star Goalie" on Literotica. After reading over the last chapter, I wondered when these guys ever had time to become great soccer players. All characters engaged in sexual activity are over 18. ©Brunosden 2024. All rights reserved.

Quick status update....

Two pairs of soccer players at William & Mary, one pair from San Diego, the other from suburban Washington DC had rented an off-campus apartment together. And they were indeed pairs.

Miguel and Jeff, the Californians, had been playing around with each other on a semi-exclusive basis since they were seniors in high school. Miguel, the goalie, was a Latino superstar, with several years of casual homosexual experience, although he claimed to be bi. He was not quite 5-10, spontaneous, fun, and lightly muscled—with legendary stamina and the moves of an agile gymnast. His dick was a little more than average in length, but he was definitely a grower and very thick, dark and hooded and he knew how to use it. He was 21, but looked younger. He was part of a refugee family, but it had been years since any danger had been reported, and so he was pretty relaxed about it (although he did have a GPS device surgically implanted into his shoulder in the event of a successful kidnapping).

Jeff had been a loner, a top forward, tall, California-surfer-ish with a hooded cock that had been the envy of the locker room. Reserved and scholarly, almost nerdy—his thick glasses (which he rarely wore) contrasting so significantly with the sun-bleached hair. Miguel had seduced him after a rescue from a gang of bullies, and Jeff had joined the ranks of ex-virgins within a few days and was drawn into Miguel's active social circle and his bed within a few weeks.

Jeff and Miguel had started as best friends, moved toward exclusivity, but realized that although the sex was really good, they probably didn't have a long term future. They were just too different. And Miguel was bound for professional soccer where a gay partner would be a potential issue.

Carlos and Sean were "newer" buds. Sean was a transfer-in junior, helped to secure W&M by Carlos' mother—after a long hot summer of landscape work. (They had been high school teammates, but had gone to different colleges.) He was a giant, over 6-6, with broad shoulders, deeply cut abs, long arms and legs and a trophy "grower" dick—over two fists long when erect with a huge bulbous head. More football back than soccer forward in physique. He only topped. In fact, he had had only one partner—a older neighbor who had seduced him and whom Sean occasionally serviced—until he met Carlos. Sean was in the closet still, except of course to his roommates. But, in many ways, he was still a newbie—he'd only had two partners: the first married with no future and the second, Carlos whom he really liked, but thought maybe they didn't have a long term future either.

Carlos was a poli-sci major, just about 6 even, a forward like Jeff, with café au lait skin, incredibly good-looking with black thick hair, usually quite curly. Think matinee idol Latin lover. He was a good student with politics probably in his future. His looks would be a major boost to that ambition. He was fast on the field, ambidextrous and with dead aim and power on the goal when given an opening. Carlos was the most out-going and adventurous. He was out to family and a few friends—much to the disapproval of his military Army colonel Dad. He was vers, but had become a willing power bottom for Sean's horse-hung dick. He loved to dance and party, and occasionally he drank a bit too much.

During Thanksgiving break which they spent in Northern Virginia with Carlos, the guys had "accidentally" regrouped: Jeff and Sean went for a day-long trail ride in Middleburg, while Carlos and Miguel had remained back in Fairfax to shop and do a movie. At least that had been the plan when they parted in the morning. But, by the end of the day, Jeff had bottomed for Sean "on the trail" and fallen for Sean after the exhilarating day in the saddle (on a stallion!!), the conversation -and the intense orgasm that Sean had "given him" with his trophy dick. Jeff also appreciated Sean's quiet demeanor during the ride, matching his own, which contrasted so sharply with Miguel's ever-present loud buoyancy.

Carlos, on the other hand, had moved opportunistically and quietly into Miguel's warm bed (actually it was his own, lent to Miguel and Jeff) after Jeff had left, spooned the warm tight body in, and, an hour later, had softly, but not so quietly, pushed Miguel onto his side, lubed, insinuated his dick and fucked his teammate into a very nice place, holding him like a very comfortable sex toy while he pounded away. Carlos was thrilled with the hot little piece of ass that he had "found" in his bed. One time and he was definitely hooked.

But, that afternoon, Miguel had reciprocated and proved that he was quite as capable as "Long Sean" in taking Carlos to that same special place. And Carlos loved the loud, very active guy topping him missionary, just as much as he lusted after that cute little brown bubble ass. They made a very nice, hot couple.

And so after Thanksgiving, all of the guys were beginning to think that they had the wrong roommate.

*****

It was now Saturday morning and Sean was driving everyone back to campus in his old Volvo. Given their height and leg length, Jeff had shotgun, and the two shorter Latinos took the back seat. All four were harboring secrets about the previous day, maybe feeling a bit of guilt (not too much, they were horny 20-somethings after all), and actively self-justifying what had happened. Carlos was already teasing Miguel with fingers carefully placed on the tube lying on top of his muscular thigh. The status quo would never be the same again.

The apartment had only one bath, and the guys had easily adopted a casual nudity most of the time. And after two "discoveries" in the first week in the apartment, there was a clear understanding that fucking was going to happen; it was going to be occasionally loud; and, that no further comments were required. But, there had been no cross-coupling—at least until yesterday. Both were enjoying the informal arrangement with no explicit commitments. In fact, Carlos and Miguel had both found partners a few times on campus. And Jeff had dated a girl for more than a semester. Only Sean had been monogamous.

The guys were all really tired. They had gone clubbing the previous night and returned home after 3, agreeing to leave for Williamsburg at a quite civilized 9 a.m. (Carlos and Miguel had danced up a storm as Jeff and Sean watched from the booth. Both had lost shirts and shoes, and the top buttons on their jeans had mysteriously opened, revealing commando bods. They were quite a show and attracted lots of attention.)

Carlos and Miguel were already dozing, in the back while Jeff kept up an uncharacteristic, soft conversation with Sean—to keep him awake. They would switch off in about two hours. He looked back and noted that Carlos and Miguel were definitely out. Miguel was asleep against the window while Carlos' head had dropped into Miguel's lap, his hand apparently under his cheek, but actually cupping Miguel's chub. Both were snoring and dreaming. Both were obviously chubbed—so the dreams must be good, Jeff decided.

He wanted to talk about yesterday. He whispered, "Sean, I really enjoyed yesterday. I'd like to try it again. How do you feel?"

"I'm all in, Jeff. I really like you—and your ass. But, I can't do it in secret. We're going to have to tell them. I hope it doesn't break up the Wythe Street Gang."

"Do you think we could do sort of a musical chairs? I really like Miguel—although I'm pretty sure there is no long term future for us. And I think I like Carlos too."

"I agree. But, I don't think four-man orgies are in my future. I'm not built that way. And I've never played the role of the house stud. I don't think that's me either. And I think maybe you feel that way too."

"Well, let's see how it plays. But, I don't want this to drag on for days. Every day we wait is going to make it harder. And it will make it seem that we've got something to hide and be sorry for." Jeff's hand moved to Sean's thigh; then to his crotch where a chubbing pole was resting. He had found another way to keep Sean awake and alert.

Carlos heard it all. And he now was pretty sure that "yesterday" had included some fucking on the trail. Hell, he couldn't blame Jeff. Sean was a hunk. A big-dicked powerful hunk. He had let Sean fuck him in his own bed in less than an hour after they had become reacquainted! And he had converted to being Sean's bottom ever since. That cock was magic in what it could do.

Then he realized that sleeping with Miguel was not going to be hardship for him either. (He almost snickered at the use of the word "hardship"; fuck, he was going to be hard all the time!) So how could they pull this off? Maybe an innocent suggestion of a trade—without mention of the prior action—might work. "We're all big boys and twenty-something hunks. Why should we be monogamous at this point in our lives?" he thought. "Yeah, maybe that might work. Later today. Definitely later today. I only need to clue Miguel in and make sure he's on the same page before this all hits."

They stopped for burgers and arrived at the apartment early afternoon. It was raining and dreary, but there was no practice until Monday when classes resumed. So they changed into comfortable sweats. Carlos had found a quiet moment to clue Miguel into the fact that he had overheard the conversation and his plan. Miguel was on board.

All four guys were glued to the LED screen as a European professional "football" game played before them. During one penalty intermission, Carlos spoke up, "What would you guys think if we switched roommates tonight? Just to give us a little spice."

The question and comment dropped into the silence. Jeff looked over at Sean and smiled as Sean added, "I'm game if you guys are. But why wait until tonight? This game is going to be over a few, and we have the rest of the afternoon with nothing to do."

Jeff and Miguel simultaneously spoke. "I'm in." No one could believe how easily it had gone. Maybe the new matches were pre-destined. Carlos was sitting on the sofa with Miguel. So he quickly wrapped his arm around Miguel's shoulder and pulled him closer—staking his claim on his new partner. So Jeff remarked, "I guess that leaves you and me Sean for the next round. Do you think you can handle me?"

Carlos thought to himself, "Fuck, Sean is going to do all the handling. He's an exclusive top. Let's see how Jeff handles this situation." He knew that Jeff usually topped Miguel.

By four-thirty, Miguel remarked that he was still tired from the previous night and announced that he needed a nap. And all four guys rose simultaneously to take up the suggestion, knowing full well that sleep, although on the agenda, wasn't going to happen right away.

Sean had the only "doctored" bed. So Jeff moved in with Sean, and Carlos moved to Miguel. And thus, with minimum grief and less talk, two new partnerships were created.

It was a repeat of the previous day. Sean quietly pulled Jeff onto his bed, and the two guys stripped off the sweats and crawled under the duvet. Within a few minutes, they were both rolling around, hugging, kissing, stimulating various erogenous zones.

Jeff moved to his belly. Sean rolled on top to cocoon him completely which only someone of his size could do. Then he knelt behind in the vee and pulled Jeff up into a doggie. He started to open Jeff with tongue and fingers. Finally, Sean positioned, applied pressure and entered. He brushed the nut several times with his oversize glans as Jeff gasped with the pleasure shocks. Then he long-dicked several times and bottomed. Sean backed off and carefully pulled Jeff up and tightly back into his rugged chest, handling and pinching his nipples; then pulling Jeff's face around to tongue dance. Sean sat back on his haunches and drew Jeff into his lap, going incredibly deep. Jeff softly moaned in response. He was impaled on that long pole, full and thoroughly fucked.

Somehow, he could feel Sean on every inch of his body—inside and outside. Long arms, big hands, long fingers, big chest, and donkey dick. He was a puppet, a hot steaming puppet. It was quiet but intense. Sean definitely knew all the pleasure points and hit them as Jeff darkened in silent passion. Jeff was melting into Sean's strength. Silent, but not passive. Then Sean twanged his cock, and Jeff experienced another deep anal orgasm which flowed throughout his body while Sean lovingly gripped Jeff tightly and filled him with his life-giving seed. Jeff filled Sean's waiting fist who brought it to his lips to taste.

Then, they both fell to the mattress and listened to their passionate friends going at it in the next room. Finally, the racket stopped suddenly. And Sean and Jeff dozed while still linked by Sean's cock which seemed to stay hard forever. Jeff was, after only two fucks, falling for Sean; the same was true for Sean. Neither wanted to treat this as a casual swap. They were thinking "soul-mates" already. And they wanted this to last. Jeff was reveling in Sean's size and strength. For the first time in his life, he felt protected.

Meanwhile, there was very little silence in the other room. They cut the deck, and Miguel got to top. Soon they were writhing around the bed, moaning encouragement and shouting out release. All, of course, was heard next door. It was like one of those porn soundtracks added to a great fuck scene with continuous moans, groans, "put that fucker in"s, "fuck me harder, stud"s and even a few Latino words of street origin. Balls slapped loudly on supple skin as the headboard rocked into the wall. Both guys were crazy with lust. Finally, there was a loud triumphant shout, followed by another. Then, two simultaneous loud groans of release until silence dawned on Miguel and Carlos as well.

The new pairings had been initiated. And it didn't appear that anyone was treating it as a one-time thing—or even wanted it to be.

*****

After Thanksgiving, W&M had only two remaining soccer games in the season—both invitational matches to be played in the South—one in a week and one on New Year's Eve. So practices continued. W&M won the first and thus national honors were riding on the final game in Miami. Classes ended and all the guys parted to return home. Jeff suspected that he'd get a few nostalgia fucks from Miguel near Christmas when they were both in San Diego—and Carlos assumed the same thing for Sean. And both were looking forward to a "return to their beginnings." But, that didn't happen. The new pairings were holding. All four were very anxious to get back to school. Celibacy is not a desirable state for a 21 year old stud.

Many of their friends and parents were planning to visit Southern Florida for the big event. The team reported to school on the 29

th

and a specially-chartered plane took them all to Fort Lauderdale on the 30

th

for their first look at the new stadium that Inter Miami had rebuilt in Fort Lauderdale exclusively for soccer. It was way larger than any place they had ever played, and everyone knew that many professional scouts would be in attendance.

The game itself was exciting—although one couldn't tell by the final score. Dozens of shots on goal had been ably turned back by the two best goalies in the country. But W&M finally pulled it out in the last period during a penalty period and won 1-0. Jeff had passed carefully to Carlos, and Carlos had taken dead aim with his left shin. They were national champs. The team was going to be treated to a few days of sun before returning to class.

Within a day, all of their parents had returned home—except Miguel's father who was planning to go to Washington. His testimony in the trial of a cartel leader, scheduled for two weeks into January needed to be prepped. It had been over two years since the family had escaped the wrath of the cartel in Mexico City and taken asylum in San Diego. They had maintained a low profile, but were nevertheless provided some police protection. Now the actual trial was looming.

But the press given to Miguel Allende who had "won" the soccer match and who was already being deluged with sponsorship offers and recruiting visits had alerted the "long arm" of the cartel in Miami to his presence in South Florida. And of course they knew that his father was scheduled to give vital testimony in one of their leader's trials in a few weeks. The Miami cartel reps decided to do a "favor" for their suppliers.

The team of course planned to go clubbing on South Beach after their parents departed. It was the hottest gay scene in the States, perhaps one of the hottest in the world. Several massive clubs had popped up, typically hetero (but gay friendly) until midnight and gay thereafter until nearly dawn. Miguel and Carlos had reps as wild and athletic dancers and were looking forward to the scene. Williamsburg had nothing comparable.

They arrived at the swank hotel around six—the traffic leaving the stadium had been brutal, and in the team bus, there wasn't much they could do to take side streets to avoid it. Miguel and Carlos were incredibly horned. The post game locker room had been luxurious but not exactly private, and they weren't yet advertising their relationship to the team and coaches. So they agonized through nearly an hour of boisterous team nudity around the lockers and showers, carefully watching to ensure that their chubs didn't mature to full-blown erections. Then there was the hour long bus ride during which various sports journalists had been interviewing the victorious players—but particularly Miguel and Carlos (who had completed the only goal that afternoon). So there was no relief in the bus either!

Each only had a duffel and so they had blown off the porter. They rushed through the door, dropped the bags and Carlos slammed Miguel against the wall. Their lips collided and tongues began to duel as Carlos' hands, both of them, reached under the tee, traced the rock hard abs and started to tease Miguel's already-engorged nipples. Miguel reached behind, grabbed Carlos' cheeks, separated, reached into the crack and pulled him in tightly until their cocks clashed and their lips opened. It was like a tornado had hit. Clothes and shoes started to fly as Miguel climbed up onto Carlos and looped his powerful legs around his waist.

Carlos looked over at the bed and frog-marched Miguel, dropping him into it at the edge and falling on top. The hunger and the passion were the stuff of a great porn short film—short because this first fuck in Miami was going to be fast. Both of the guys were rigidly-dicked and way overdue for release.

Carlos stared down into Miguel's face. There was so much desire in those eyes! His lips were swollen with desire. His breath was coming in short spurts. And his color was darkening as the musky aroma rose. Carlos couldn't believe that this beauty, this agile, masculine, cuddly beauty, was his. Miguel released enough for Carlos to back off and position. Then he prepared for the plunge. He grabbed his legs from Carlos' hands and drew them up into a jackknife, rolling his butt. He knew it was going to be swift and sweet. No lips, no fingers this time. Just a big shot of lube.

Then Carlos pushed, Miguel opened, and the rigid cock slid deep inside. Miguel screamed when the head scraped his prostate and started to leak. Carlos swiped a bit of the sticky liquid and forced his fingers into Miguel's mouth. Then he thrust again, hard and long, right to the hilt until Miguel felt the curly pubes on the base of his balls. Miguel dropped his legs and curled around Carlos to hold him close. His chute tightened around the shaft and he used his leg leverage to lift himself into the rigid dick, pulling it hard into his love nut. He started to groan, pretty loudly for a hotel room, Carlos thought. So he grabbed more of Miguel's leaking precum and stuffed a few fingers back into Miguel's mouth. Miguel sucked them in greedily, but didn't quiet much. He was way too aroused and enjoying the stimulation that Carlos was providing. He was alive on the duvet, squirming and writhing in accepting pleasure as Carlos relentlessly thrust into the tight chute. The hot slipperly chute of a genuine power bottom. They were so hot the room was steaming, and the aromas that surrounded them were heavy and rich with male potential.