Page 107 of Man On

“Fuck!” Noah chokes out. “I swear your ass just gets better every time.” Pulling my back against his chest, he keeps his thrusts slow and steady while he sucks my neck and bites my ear. “Don’t come,” he says, just before he grips my hips and sets a punishing pace. His dick hits my prostate, and I protest his command with some choice words when Noah pounds his second load of the day into my ass.

“Bend over,” he instructs when he pulls out of me. I can feel a trickle of cum leaking out of me. Noah’s nasty ass loves to watch it trickle out of me. Because of course he does, it’s humiliating. But I have to admit that I do love being used by him.

“Noah! What—” Noah’s open mouth latches to my ass and sucks. I’m speechless, and completely ashamed at how hard my dick jerks. Even knowing that he’s sucking his own cum out of my asshole, or maybe because of knowing it, I’m so close to coming it hurts.

Noah stands up and turns me around. I watch, wide eyed and horrified, as he opens his mouth, showing me his tongue coated in semen. His own semen. That he sucked from my ass that he just fucked. After a full day of walking around sloppy and getting sweaty at practice.

This is so wrong.

Yet when he spits it all out onto his hand and wraps it around my shaft, there’s little more I can do than thrust into his hand. He jacks me so good, until I am begging for release. Then he drops to his knees and swallows every drop that shoots out of me.

“You’re disgusting,” I say a few minutes later, after we’ve been lying on the kitchen floor with our pants still down around our ankles.

He grins and reaches for my hand.

“You make me this way.”

I laugh. “Gross?”

“Obsessed.”

“Oh, come on, ref! That was a blatant foul!” Noah yells at the official, stalking after him when the referee doesn’t do more than pull a yellow card for the stunt the Notre Dame center forward just pulled.

Danny trots over and gives me a hand to pull me up, and Coach Carr signals for a sub. Noah rushes back to my other side, after being warned by the ref that he was on thin ice. Despite my protests, the two of them all but carry me off the field.

“I’m fine!” I tell everyone, pushing both of the hovering gorillas away from me. I’m pretty sure they’re both overcompensating to compete with each other rather than to actually help me, and I’m honestly fine.

The player from Notre Dame tackled me, but luckily, the muddy field cushioned most of my fall. I took a cleat to the back of my knee, but it’s nothing that a few minutes of stretching and an ice pack won’t help.

Coach Carr barks at Danny and Noah to get back on the field, and I give him a grateful smile before turning my attention to the trainer that kneels to examine my leg. She deems me fit to continue, but the match is just about over, so I stay on the bench the rest of the game. Noah and Danny manage to work together and avenge me by getting two more balls in the net, making tonight’s match our highest scoring shutout.

“Maybe you should get hurt more often,” Coach mutters next to me, when I stand up to cheer for the last goal. He gives me a funny look, and walks away shaking his head before I rush the field to celebrate with the team.

Noah runs right up to me and lifts me from the ground, jumping up and down with my heavy body in his arms. His fingers dig into my side, and I make a really embarrassing sound out loud in front of all our teammates. Wrenching myself out of Noah’s grip, I punch him in the shoulder and glare. Luckily, everyone is horsing around, so no one notices.

It’s our last night before fall break, and we’re celebrating a big win, so the team is throwing a party. Worse, a few of the senior guys are in a fraternity, so the party is at a frat house.

I’m not really looking forward to it, if I’m being honest. But Noah seems excited despite the venue. He’s in such a good mood, he actually reaches out to do a sort of half-handshake with Danny. The two of them worked well together tonight. Maybe they’ll let go of their embarrassing little rivalry and stop drawing attention.

“Please tell me you’re going to let him go,” Miah says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I know that he’s aware I’m not really a fan of having people in my personal space. But he doesn’t seem to care, and keeps squeezing my shoulders.

“Let him? I’m not his keeper.”

“Sure you’re not.” The pointed look he gives me reminds me that he knows about me and Noah. My face blanches, and he laughs. “You know we’re cool, right?”

I’m assuming he means to say that he’s not going to go blabbing, but he’s an idiot. A loveable idiot, and Noah’s best friend. But an idiot nonetheless.

“Yeah, we’re cool.”

The party is in full force by the time we arrive. It’s loud, the lights are dim, and it smells like beer. It’s really not my idea of a good time.

Noah and Miah are pulling me along, greeting everyone. There are a bunch of guys here from the team, and people I recognize from the athletic dorms. We’re told that a bunch of players from the women’s soccer team are here, too, playing pool in the basement. Miah gives Noah a meaningful look and then gives us both an extravagant bow before turning and running down the stairs.

“You don’t want to go with him?” I ask, getting close so he can hear me over the music.

“Did you want to play pool?” He yells back.

I shake my head. “What I meant is, are you sure you don’t want to be chatting up the women’s team?”

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