Lance's Gift

• Timothy stared from across the quad, furiously undressing him with his eyes. Lance Lockhart. For years now he had loved this boy from afar, his every thought, dream, and desire was shrouded in his powerful shadow. And as he innocently studied the silverwood sapling, jotting down whatever measurements he needed for ‘Intro to Botany,’ Timothy did what he always did from afar: daydream. Lance’s favourite grey bro tank and white cap, his silky white wrestling shorts, the gigantic and well worn white and gold Roshes gracing his feet… Every ounce of him was soaked in masculinity, oozed cockiness, and radiated sexual desire.

• For one solitary moment, the pair’s eyes met. A sideward glance meeting a deep, invasive stare. Timothy buried his face in his Organic Chemistry textbook, pleading with whatever essence dictated luck that Lance’s gaze had passed him over. For a moment, he thought his childish tactic had succeeded. Yet, as he peeked over the top of the textbook, he saw Lance sauntering toward him across the green. As quickly as he could, he began to pack up his things, foolishly hoping to escape whatever interaction lay ahead. In the mad rush, the small diary he kept since childhood had fallen out of his Patagonia bookbag. Two strong, tan hand gently picked up the leatherbound book, gesturing it to him.

• “I think you dropped this.” Lance’s beautiful, velvety, mahogany voice flowed out of his lips; a luscious craving he possessed since middle school. “What’s up Timmy? It’s been a while since I’ve seen ya around!” The two had only one class together, and the dimwitted, yet lovable Lance never let him forget it.

• “Yeah, I, uh… Guess we have different schedules or something.” Timothy awkwardly grabbed the book from Lance’s grasp, shoving it deep into his bookbag. He quickly rose up, once again trying to feebly escape from the pleasantries, but felt the jock’s firm grasp envelop his wrist.

• “I know it’s a little weird, but I need a favour, bro. Could you watch my dog while I’m in Georgia? We’re facing Emory in the finals, and I just wanna make sure that Ned is all taken care of. You can stay over, and eat my food, play the PlayStation…” Timothy silently nodded, and Lance let out a big sigh of relief. “Fuck, thanks man, here’s the key. I’m heading out in a few hours, so just head over after your classes or whatever. I’ll be back on Monday, aight?” Lance was already halfway across the quad, enroute to the busses which were lining up by the Gym. There was no take backs. Timothy would be spending the weekend at his dream boy’s house.

• After he finished the painstakingly difficult Chemistry quiz, he bolted out the door, running for Lance’s place. It was just off campus, one street over from Greek Row. The house was infamous for having ridiculously wild after parties, riding the coattails of the neighboring frat houses’ ragers. As one might expect, the state of the house was slightly run down and decrepit, typical of college housing. The key turned in the front door lock, and opened the replacement front door. 

• Lance’s house was a disaster zone. From all the Snapchat stories and Facebook posts, this was the aftermath from the ridiculous football party the night before. Red solo cups filled with shitty beers were scattered across the house, atop tables, spilt over on the floor. The remnants of beer pong sat idle on the kitchen table, half smoked blunts and cigarette butts lay extinguished on the trashy linoleum. Even a pair of purple floral panties were strewn over a toppled over chair.

• According to the instructions left on the stained countertop, Ned the Doberman was locked up in the bedroom. Timothy made his way upstairs, trudging past crumpled paper plates and crushed beer cans to arrive at the the bedroom door. He heard Ned clawing at the door, whining to be let out, so when the door was slowly opened, the cooped up dog burst out, covering Tim in slobbery kisses. After an adorable reunion, Ned rushed downstairs to eat whatever leftover pizza sat in the abandoned boxes, leaving Timothy alone in his idol’s bedchamber.

• The mattress and boxspring sat in the corner of the room, barely covered with sweat stained sheets and cumstained tissues. The room smelt like a locker room, with Lance’s sweaty clothes scattered all around. A black leather Nike gym bag sat half open with a small golden cylinder poking out.

• Timothy walked over, realizing the immense opportunity presented to him. He sheepishly opened the zipper, revealing Lance’s weightlifting gear, and a very old fleshlight. The smell of stale cum, smegma, and caked on sweat assaulted his nose.Years worth of wet dreams about what he’d do with Lance’s filthy gear flashed before his eyes, and before he knew it, he was stripping off his clothes. Excitedly, he slipped on the wet compressions & socks, taking a guilty huff of their strong scent. He picked up the black sweatshirt and tossed it on, lifting his arms to sniff the sour stench of pitsweat. He sat down on the bed, running his hands over the damp fabric that now clung to his skin, soaked in Lance’s musky juices.

• The fleshlight beckoned to him, begging him to let out all the pent up tension that had built up in his balls. Grabbing the gold fucktoy, he was surprised with how heavy and slippery it was, coated in old lube. He twisted the top cap and pulled it off. Strings of off-white slime clung to the cap as it pulled away from the silicone lips, looking like cheese stretching from pizza. Lance hadn’t ever cleaned it. Old coagulated jizz intermingled with the fresh load he had clearly put in earlier that day, filling the room with salty-chlorine smell of semen. Timothy’s cock throbbed in anticipation, his senses heightened by the olfactory overload of cum and musk.

• He pulled back his foreskin, and delicately thrusted his cock into the filthy fleshlight. The cum was slick and viscous, coating him in a thick blanket of smelly slime. The sensation was unlike anything he’d ever felt. No wonder Lance hadn’t cleaned it out, the built up loads and massaging protrusions added to the sensory overload.

• 

• He could barely breathe, with each thrust his lungs crumpled within him, and his chest was filled with butterflies. He gasped for air, moaning loudly in absolute ecstasy. Every muscle in his body tensed, flexing every muscle, as he launched his hips into the slurping fleshlight. 

• He didn’t feel his legs bulging, his feet growing, his cock stretching. He couldn’t see the muscles beneath his skin expand and inflate. He couldn’t taste the salty-sweet sweat that was pouring out of his tanning skin. What he could do, was smell every ounce of Lance. His very essence seeping into him like a sponge. As if that heavy, stinking musk had invaded him. And as he added his load into the heavy, warm fleshlight, he couldn’t help but imagine a little bit of that cum slipping into him.

•  

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• Lance was eager to see what three days of jockification could accomplish. Coach was all too happy to cough up the secret to jocking when Lance had asked him, though his intentions to turn his personal fanboy into a teammate boyfriend remained hidden. As the busses pulled into the parking lot, and his bags were handed to him, Lance took his time sauntering back to his house. He wanted to give his babe as much time as he needed to ripen. So by the time he had turned the key and unlocked the door, he was barely able to contain his excitement.

• “Yo, Timmy! You in here?” The muffled sounds of FIFA 17 crept out from behind his closed door. Every step he took up the creaking staircase, his stupid grin grew in anticipation. He reached his door, the daylight pouring in around the doorframe provided a Tumblr-worthy image as he pushed the door open. The same familiar stench that poured from his room was twofold today, strong and heavy in the air. It was almost humid as he stepped inside and saw an unfamiliar face rummaging through the piles of clothes. 

• “Fuck babe, you’re kinky as hell! You keep your creamed condoms? What the fuck for?” Lance walked further into the room, grinning like an idiot at his Soccer Captain boyfriend wearing his smelly practice gear.

• 

• “Good lube for later, bruh. Sebastian, you didn’t take very long!” Lance swaggered over to his studly creation, proud of every solid muscle and vein.The two powerfully embraced, lips locked in sloppy, wet french kiss. Timothy was no more, only the cocky, sport-obsessed persona of Seba was left. Coach Frost would be thrilled to see his newest Soccer player be so damn sexy! Apparently, three days of Musk-Jockification was pretty successful, at least to Lance. The two spent the entire week skipping class, playing FIFA, plowing ass, and huffing eachother’s dirty socks. The new Sunnmore University power couple was sure to bring the university a whole lotta pride.