The Quarterback Controversy

[To the blogger review team:  Many of my posts are suddenly saying that they are being placed behind a warning for containing sensitive content.  The ENTIRE blog is behind the adult setting with a sensitivity content.  Is this a second layer or something??  Most all of my posts would fit this description.  Is there something else I should be doing??]

The Quarterback Controversy

by Cocky Punk

 “So, it’s agreed? This is how you both want it?” Coach Howe asked Dave and Mark. They both nodded their agreement and signed the contract. Their fathers had already signed the contract. Once done, the coach and one of the assistants witnessed the signing and it was done.




When his office cleared out, Coach Howe sat in his chair, still amazed at what had happened. He was excited, but also a little fearful.

Coach Howe was the head coach at the University of Florida, one of the leading college Football programs in the country. Every year, young men fought hard for the right to play for him. They knew it was practically a guarantee to the NFL, with all the money and prestige that came with it. This year, Coach Howe had decided that he would split the quarterbacking duties between his two stars, Dave Branson and Mark White. Both had been waiting their turn and were disappointed with the decision. Dave actually deserved it based on talent, the stats and he was more popular with the rest of the team, but Mark had a passion for the game that the Coach liked.

The Coach also hated Dave’s father and wanted to keep Dave off the field purely out of spite. Dave was a rich kid and his father was obnoxious. Ever since Dave was a rookie, his father, John Branson, had been putting the pressure on to have his son start. When the coach had ignored him, John had gone higher up, offering large financial incentives to get his son on the field. Coach Howe had 100% control of the football program, but he had still felt the pressure. Now that Dave deserved the job, Coach Howe was going to keep him from it to teach John a lesson. That is until Mark’s dad had gotten involved. Now the whole thing had turned ugly, actually the whole event was now beyond ugly.

In his office two days ago, John Branson had showed up uninvited while the coach was talking to Mark and his father, Jake. John started threatening the coach.

John said, “Look, Howe, don’t think you can do this to my son. I’m not going to let you steal his dream and give it to some loser from the sticks. That other punk is nothing compared to my son, Dave has the talent and the background to go far in the world – he can use football as a springboard into so much more. My boy could go into politics, maybe to the top! People like that Mark White are different, they’re families are happy if they don’t end up in jail, like his father probably did.”

Jake had been only partially listening until he realized that it was his son being badmouthed. “What the fuck are you talking about? Are you calling my son and me a loser and a crook?”

John Branson stared down at the man before him and smiled condescendingly. “You’re Mark’s father? I should have guessed by the smell.”

“You wanna go? Right now! Right now!” Jake White started to charge, only to be held back by the Coach and Mark.

“See my point. Immediate reaction is to fight it out. I’m sure you’d like to settle this by having the boys fight it out too.”

Jake snarled and spat out, “It’d be a better way than having a rich fag like you buy it for a rotten kid that doesn’t deserve it! Hell, why let the boys have all the fun? I’ll fight you for it!”

John Branson smiled coldly. “Watch your step. Just because you’re from a trailer park doesn’t make you tough. I was Varsity wrestling at Harvard and study several martial arts now with a renowned master.”

Jake said, “Yeah, well la-di-da. Put your money where your mouth is … I’ll kick your ass and Mark’ll kick your kid’s ass.”

John Branson felt his blood boiling. In his world, things were not done this way, but his instincts took over. He agreed on behalf of his son and himself. Over the next two days, Dave and Mark worked with the Coach on an agreement – John had insisted that there be a legally binding agreement. In order to punish the losing boy, it was agreed that the loser would become the “property” of the winner during the school year. John thought it would be nice for Dave to have the poor little jock as his personal assistant. It was time Dave learned how to boss around the lower rungs of society. Because both older men worked, the fathers were not obliged to do the same, but were made to be the winner’s “property” only on the day of the fight and also on game day for the season. Again, John had a list of humiliating tasks for Jake White, although he doubted much could humiliate a man like Jake.

*****

When the day arrived, the combatants arrived at the gym. Even though Coach Howe had kept it quiet, ten members of the football team had snuck in to watch and see how this was to be resolved. They were, of course, interested in who their quarterback would be, but most could not believe it had come to this. One of them had brought his computer and video camera to record the event for posterity.

Mark and his father approached the ring. They climbed onto the apron, into the ring and waited. Mark and his father were dressed in black trunks, with black wrestling boots, knee pads and elbow pads. Mark was clearly nervous, but his father looked excited – at least the bulge in his speedo indicated that.

Mark was 22 years old, 6’0” tall and 220lbs. He had a square jaw, permanent five o’clock shadow from his thick beard and a chest dusted with black fur that would eventually become a thick coat. His face was average looking, but his body made him a stud. Mark’s gym-built body was powerful and cut. Every muscle was clearly defined from his hours in the gym. The young man knew he was not as talented as guys like Dave, but he worked hard to make up for it with his attitude and work ethic. He was actually willing to share the job of quarterback, but Dave and his father were such jerks about the whole thing that he now wanted the job all to himself.

Mark’s father, 38 years old, was better looking than Mark, his face having a rugged look that he had grown into. His short hair was high and tight in a brush-cut that was slightly greying. Jake was shorter that Mark at 5’10” tall, but he was as solid as a rock. Unknown to anyone, he had been a marine during his younger days, lying about his age and joining at 16 to feed his 16-year-old wife and infant son. He had maintained the training regime to this day. His thick mat of chest hair was greying over thick hard pecs and tight abs that showed through his body hair. He wore army boots and jumped up and down in the ring. Jake’s huge manhood was loosely held in the trunks, bouncing as he jumped. His cock was semi-hard, the excitement of hand-to-hand, man-on-man combat bringing his competitive juices forward.

Out of the locker room came Dave and his father, John. Dave, age 20, was much better looking than Mark, with wavy ash blond hair, a perfect smile and blue eyes. He was 6’4” and 210lbs – thinner than Mark, but with tons of natural talent. Most scouts were already eyeing him to leave college early, but in order to accomplish that goal; he had to be the number one now, in his junior year. John was right when he saw his son as a candidate for President – Dave certainly had the clean-cut good looks for it. His body was also cut, his lean muscles displayed as he wore only his gravy workout shorts over a jockstrap. He had old running shoes on his feet. Dave knew nothing about wrestling, or any kind of fighting for that matter. As the most popular boy in school, he had never had to fight.

John Branson wore his old college singlet with the Harvard insignia on it. He wore short wrestling shoes and headgear, looking like a college wrestler. Like his son, John was tall, 6’3”, and he carried his 180lbs well. He was thin, but tough, with clearly defined muscles and a great body, especially for a 46-year-old.

Coach Howe entered the ring and stayed between the two teams. He once again went over the rules – there were very few save low blows and eye gouging. The match was an elimination match. The first person to either be pinned or submit would be eliminated. The match would then become a two-on-one tag match until the second person was pinned, etc. Coach Howe, as the referee, had the final verdict and his decision was unassailable.

*****

The Coach blew his whistle and Mark entered the ring for his team. Dave was pushed in by his father, “Show that piece of white trash what it means to fight a Branson, son!”

Jake yelled back, “Shut up, you cocksucker! You’re gonna learn that Harvard don’t mean nothin’ in the ring!”

While the fathers exchanged barbs, Mark stretched on the ropes and Dave waited. Mark finally moved to face his opponent. Dave was an impressive guy, nice body and smart - pulling down a 4.0 grade point average. Mark had never seen him fight, so he was cautious. Mark looked at his father, who tugged his ear and rubbed his hand down his bicep. The two men had worked out a system to help Mark make decisions. Mark knew his father was a great fighter. His father had offered to fight both men, but Mark wanted to start – it was his fight and he felt bad his father was even involved.

The two young men awkwardly moved together, Mark followed his father's direction, raising his arms and Dave followed suit. The two boys locked up in a classic starting position. They pushed against each other, trying to establish early dominance. Mark's huge biceps flexed up and his legs throbbed as he stepped forward, taking several steps, backing Dave into a neutral corner.

Dave let go of the hold and raised his arms. Mark released the hold and backed up. He bounced from side to side like a prize fighter, flexing his pecs at the same time. Dave shook out his shoulders. It was obviously a mistake to try to match strength with Mark - the guy was as strong as he looked. Dave couldn’t help but be impressed with Mark’s body – he hadn’t seen it much; Mark was always working out earlier and staying later than Dave to make up for his lack of talent. Dave was long gone by the time Mark ever hit the showers.

Dave tried to be confident. Like Mark, he had taken advice from his father and tried to stay calm. Dave advanced on Mark quickly, hoping to gain some advantage that way. Dave ran right up to Mark and swung his right fist at Mark's jaw. Mark ducked, then came up under Dave and landed his big fist into Dave's wide-open gut. POW! Dave doubled over, completely winded!

Jake kept giving signals and Mark followed the game plan. Mark held Dave’s hair and shorts, then lifted his knee into Dave’s aching gut. WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP! Knee after knee came up, ravaging the young star’s once-hard abs. Dave wanted to puke, but held it in, barely. When Mark let go, Dave collapsed, heaving in pain.

Mark slammed his fists into Dave’s back, sending Dave flat onto the mat. Dave was crying out now, but not submitting. Mark reached down and lifted his rival to his knees by his bangs.

Dave knelt in front of Mark, completely out of it. Mark was trying to pull him up, but Dave was too weak. Dave saw Mark’s hard, tight abs, covered in manly fur and used all his strength to hurl his right fist into the hard gut! WHAM! Dave was surprised at how soft the stomach was, but when Mark doubled over, holding his groin!

Jake screamed, “LOW BLOW, LOW BLOW, REF!” Mark was in agony, his cock and balls throbbing from the terrible shot. Of course, Mark’s abs were rock hard, but his balls were soft and an easy target for Dave.

Dave regained some of his wits and realized what he had done. “It was an accident,” he blurted. Coach Howe waved it off, believing Dave – he had seen how out of it Dave was and doubted the young man could have hit Mark’s balls if he had been aiming for it. The Coach warned Dave that once more and his team was DQ’ed.

Mark struggled to his feet, but was still hunched over. Dave wasn’t sure what to do, he felt bad for what he had done, but then got over it when his father started yelling at him again. Dave ran up to Mark and pushed Mark into the corner. Dave started throwing his fists into Mark’s big bulging pecs. SMACK! SMACK! Mark flexed his pecs to take the blows, but his crotch still ached and he didn’t have total concentration.

Dave’s hands were aching, but he kept going, hoping to soften up his rival. Mark’s muscles were too hard and within minutes, he had the wherewithal to push Dave off him. Mark stood up, walking awkwardly, his crotch still in spasms.

Dave decided to take advantage of mark’s lack of mobility. He ran against the ropes and came flying off them. Dave leapt up, trying to tackle Mark with a cross body tackle, but Mark caught him in mid-air. Dave was shocked as Mark held him aloft for a few minutes, circling the ring, getting advice from his father. Mark had no idea what to do with the slab of beef in his arms, but everyone thought he was showing off – it was an impressive move to hold 210lbs in your arms without any effort!

Jake gave Mark a sign and Mark nodded. He moved to the middle of the ring and tossed Dave up to get the perfect positioning. In one quick move, Mark dropped Dave across his knee in a devastating backbreaker! Mark held Dave across his knee while Dave screamed in agony.

Dave tried everything to escape as he was stretched over Mark’s knee. Dave was lean and flexible, but Mark was forcing him to bend too far. Dave screamed some more, drowning out his father, who was calling out advice. When Dave stopped fighting, Mark threw him off his knee. Dave was flat on his back, completely helpless from the move. He reached under his back, trying to rub the pain away, but it didn’t help.

Dave tried to crawl to his corner, desperate to bring in his father. Neither young man had wanted to get their father involved, but now Dave had no choice. He felt as though Mark could have broken his back!

Dave moved slowly and Mark reached down and grabbed hold of his waistband. As Dave crawled, Mark pulled back, holding Dave in place. Dave struggled in vain to advance, but then got a break. SNAP! The waistband on his jock tore and his shorts and jock came off in Mark’s hand. Dave lurched forward, buck naked, while Mark was confused. Dave was only inches from tagging when Mark grabbed tight hold on his long blond bangs and pulled back hard, dragging Dave into the middle of the ring.

The naked football star had used the last of his energy to reach his father. He lay on the mat, his cock and balls flopping free.

Mark reached down under Dave’s legs, seizing hold and lifting. Dave held up his hands in surrender, but didn’t say the words. Dave didn’t dare submit. Mark flung one foot over Dave, turning the helpless young gun over and holding him in a Boston Crab. Jake had told Mark it was his best hold, even Jake could not escape from it and had to submit! Mark’s rock-hard body and chiselled muscles strained as he wrenched back on Dave’s aching back! Mark was facing his father and smiling, feeling confident now. The pain from the earlier low blow was gone and Mark’s thick 6” cock was swelling to its full 8” in his trunks.

Mark pulled back even harder on the Boston Crab, working Dave’s back into jell-o. John screamed at this son to break free, not realizing just how powerless his boy was. Mark looked down from his seated position – Dave’s big balls and long, thin cock was just hanging there. Dave had balls almost as big as Mark’s, and his cock was only 4 inches thick, but 6” long flaccid.

Jake caught his boy’s eye. Mark looked for more coaching, amazed that Dave had not yet submitted. Dave’s crotch was pointing right at Jake in the corner, thrust out for him to see. Jake lowered his hand to his own crotch and gave himself a squeeze. Mark smiled at the cruel idea – it would only be fair after Dave hit him in the balls earlier. He waited for Coach to kneel in front of Dave’s face, asking the young man if he wanted to submit. When the Coach was there, Mark slid one hand over the big package.

Mark started to squeeze hard! Dave thrashed about, but only Jake could see why. Jake smiled at his son and yelled, “Yeah, son, pull back harder! That’s how I taught you to apply a Boston Crab! Break the punk’s back if he doesn’t quit!”

Jake wanted to cover for his son’s cheating, believing that Dave deserved it; after all, he had cheated first. John Branson and Coach Howe assumed, based on Jake’s comments, that Dave’s pain was from increased pressure, not realizing that Mark was applying the illegal hold! Dave couldn’t stand the crotch claw and screamed for mercy.

“Oh God … please … I give … I submit … oh God, Mark … please let me go!” Dave cried out, begging for mercy. Mark released Dave’s legs letting the pressure off. Dave tried to rise to his hands and knees, then collapsed, unconscious from the pain. The Coach dragged the naked, powerless Dave to his corner, where John rolled his son outside the ropes onto the apron. Coach Howe tossed Dave’s shorts onto his chest as he lay on the apron, destroyed. John Branson shook his head and stepped through the ropes. Dave lay in pain, devastated by the one-sided squash job.

*****

Mark bounced from side to side in the middle of the ring, confident after easily handling Dave. It was now two-on-one for his side and what a mismatch. Mark flexed his biceps in front of John Branson, letting the old man know how tough he was – Mark may have been young, but he was way more of a man than John Branson! If he could handle Dave like that, what chance did old man Branson have? John eased into the ring and circled to a neutral corner. He had watched Mark getting cues from his father and decided to remove that little advantage. “Is your son as dumb as he looks, White?”

“Shut up, Branson, it ain’t my son who got his clock cleaned! I may not even have to fight today, college boy!” Jake laughed.

John eased forward, closer and closer to Mark. Mark looked to the side at his father, then back. Then Mark looked back to Jake to get some direction. WHACK! John Branson had seen Mark look away and wanted to take advantage. When Mark looked away, John had launched a swinging kick right into the side of Mark’s head!

Mark was knocked out immediately and fell sprawling to the mat. His muscle body completely unharmed except for the growing red welt on the side of his head. John had warned them that he had been training in the martial arts. The poor little trailer trash should have listened.

John stood back, placed his hands on his hips and looked at Jake confidently. Mark was left lying like a piece of meat. His mighty muscle packed chest rising and falling was the only sign of life. Across the gym, the football team members were in shock – both of their young studs were out cold, while the old men were fresh!

John dropped to his knees and arrogantly covered the young stud. John eased beside the unconscious young muscle man. He opened his legs slowly, crossed over Mark, straddled Mark’s waist, leaned forward and put his hands on his shoulders. Coach Howe was shocked for a minute, but then dropped down and began the count. ONE!

John looked up at Jake and smiled. “Your son is as dumb as he looks. I told you that poor sons of bitches like you can’t win. Your son is a sorry excuse for a man, but don’t worry. At least when he is spending his days as Dave’s boy, he won’t be able to get into trouble. He may even make it to 24 without being arrested. Does that beat your record?” TWO!

“You know, your son is such a piece of trash, like you. No wonder your wife left you two … got tired of whoring for free, so she moved to the big city to get paid for it.”

Jake was furious and stormed into the ring. His wife had left them for the big city and disappeared. Somehow this bastard Branson knew that! Coach Howe restrained Jake in the ropes (barely), breaking the count. Mark was stirring, his head moving back and forth. UHH!

Once Jake was back in his corner, Coach Howe warned him, making soothing comments, “Don’t let him rile you, Jake. Stay calm. You interfere and it’s a DQ.”

John was still astride the prone body of Mark. He smirked and looked down at the boy trying to wake up. Coach Howe began his count again. ONE! John adjusted his hands, moving them down Mark’s shoulders, wrapping his big traps in his lean fingers. TWO! John stayed astride Mark, but moved his butt onto Mark’s chiselled abs and put his feet flat on the ground. THR – As the hand went down, John lifted Mark’s shoulders, bringing the dazed young man’s shoulders off the mat, breaking the count!

As John pulled back, he stood, his legs spread over Mark’s hips. He brought Mark’s head all the way up until Mark was sitting. Jake was shocked as was Coach Howe, but then they saw the position – Mark was sitting with John’s hands behind his head, Mark’s face right in John’s crotch!

“What did you call me, White? A cocksucker? Looks to me more like your boy’s the cocksucker. In fact, I think he’s a natural for it.” To emphasize his dominance, John swung his hips, grinding his cock and balls into Mark’s muscle stud face! Jake was enraged and wanted to charge in, but knew it would mean instant disqualification. John had had to watch his son beaten and humiliated … now Jake would have to wait for his turn. Mark showed no sign of coming back to life.

“You know, White, most of the team are cocksuckers, my son told me the whole offensive line sucks his cock to keep him happy, but your boy, well your boy is the best. After games, he hangs out in the showers and gives everyone of them a blowjob. He said you taught him how. That true?”

John dropped Mark down to the mat and put one foot on Mark’s incredible heaving chest. Coach Howe stood there still amazed, but John said, “Count, moron!”

Coach Howe reluctantly dropped to the mat and counted. This time he made it to three uninterrupted. John Branson backed up. Coach Howe stood and told Jake to wait until he cleared the ring. When the ref’s back was turned, there came a POW! John had given Mark a hard kick to the groin before moving off completely. Jake saw and freaked, while Coach Howe spun around and gave a warning glare.

John raised his hands and arrogantly shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “what?”

Coach Howe watched the two men carefully and tried to roll Mark out of the ring. Mark was heavy and solid, not easy to move. While he was occupied, Jake said, “That was a big mistake Branson, you bastard!”

“What? I think you should thank me for ending the line. The last thing the world needs is another piece of garbage like you. Although compared to the rest of the team, your son is a star. Do you have any idea how many players here are kids of crack whores? My God, if only someone had done them the favor of ending their sorry existence. It’s sad, really, any money they make in the NFL is just going to go up their noses, then, ten years from now, they will be whining about how unfair life is. And my poor son has to pretend to like these losers. It’s very hard on him.”

Eventually Coach Howe got Mark out of the ring and faced the two men who were itching for battle.

*****

Jake wanted to charge at John Branson, to tear his face off, but he held back. He knew that he had to be careful – John Branson was more dangerous than he let on. Anyone who could level Mark with one shot was a man to be reckoned with.

Branson kicked out, warning Jake back, but Jake was ready. He grabbed tight hold of John’s foot and threw him down. Jake then started with an ankle lock. He released it, but as John was rising, he grabbed hold of his head and knee, and snapped him over in a suplex! Jake then applied a series of hammerlocks and headlocks, each one designed to weaken the tycoon slowly, so that Jake could hurt the man before he submitted.

John Branson was being thrown around like a ragdoll, not launching any offense at all. Jake continued, throwing Branson into the ropes, then hitting him with a clothesline. Jake picked him up in his hairy arms and flattened him with a body slam. Jake followed up with another headlock, snapmare takeover onto the mat. Jake squeezed and stretched. Branson cried out and slapped the mat as Jake’s big bicep pressed into his head.

Jake let the rich guy go and thought about his next attack. His trunks were packed tighter than ever as his total control of this man gave him a massive erection. Jake loved domination, especially of this snobby bastard. As Jake approached to deliver another series of moves, John Branson threw out his fist, connecting with Jake’s jaw. Jake was not expecting the move, and was caught flush. In that moment, everything changed.

John Branson launched a follow-up of kicks and blows, each one harder than the last. Jake could not react fast enough and each move built on the last – as Jake moved one way, John hit him another way. Jake’s head would snap back, then he would be hit in the gut. As his head came forward, Branson would level an elbow into it. Branson kicked Jake in the knee, then as he sagged, threw an uppercut. John Branson was using speed and momentum to his perfect advantage. Jake was stunned and confused, the blows having an overwhelming effect.

After five minutes of continuous punishment, Jake’s tree-trunk thick legs finally showed signs of giving out! He wobbled and Branson, completely confident, arrogantly circled his prey. Jake’s python-like arms hung limp and he waited like a punching bag for the next blow, unable to do anything else. The rugged man was now a plaything for the well-groomed aristocrat.

Coach Howe was amazed that John Branson had been playing possum. He knew that the blows had caught Jake completely by surprise and saw blood was trickling from his mouth. John Branson pressed his advantage, throwing another chop against the side of Jake’s head, then grabbing around his waist. John threw Jake to the mat in an amateur move, rolling him onto his stomach. John Branson bent Jake’s arms back behind him in a hammerlock and tied up his legs, pressing down on them with all his weight. Jake couldn’t move at all. He felt as though his knees and shoulders would snap. Jake shook his head, unable to believe this. He was helpless under John Branson. A few martial arts kicks and punches, then this and he might be beaten! Jake would not submit, but it seemed only a matter of time.

The burly ex-Marine struggled, but the pain only grew. He grimaced, while John Branson grinned. “Do you submit, White?”

“NEVER!”

“Fine, I hope you don’t. I’d rather break your arms, then pin you! It’s time people like you learned your place in life! You and the rest of the poor losers! My son shouldn’t even have to come in contact with men like you, but the idiots out there don’t want breeding and class, they want stars. Well, while the rest of the crackheads on the team are piddling away their money on drugs and marrying street whores, my son will be President of the United States! You understand? You understand what you’re messing with, White?”

Jake had his head down, struggling to fight the pain. The Marines had taught him to ignore pain, but that wasn’t enough. He had to break free! Sweat soaked his trunks and matted his thick chest fur. Jake grunted and groaned, but the leverage wasn’t his. He was moments from defeat when John Branson did the unthinkable. He let go.

Branson had thought that Jake would not submit, that the move was ineffective, since he heard no screaming. He didn’t know that Jake was hiding the real pain he was in. John quickly rolled Jake over into a near-perfect pin, holding his shoulders down. In amateur wrestling, where the shoulders only need to be down for a one count, it would have been perfect, but Coach Howe was counting to three as they had agreed. At two, Jake squirmed out, breaking the pin.

Jake rolled to his corner, shaking out his arms, trying to get the feeling back. John didn’t give him the time, wrapping him up and throwing him to the mat again, his amateur skills showing through. John Branson threw Jake around a couple of times, planting his macho rival hard onto the mat.

Jake was still dazed. Branson let him get up, then set up for a tremendous roundhouse kick – the same one that had put down Jake’s son so easily. John measured the kick as Jake wobbled on his feet.

John let loose, but Jake ducked! John spun wildly, losing his balance, while Jake charged, driving his shoulder into Branson’s abs! The wind was driven out of Branson as he hit the mat hard, with all Jake’s hard muscle on top of him. Jake picked him up and held him over his shoulder. Jake jumped up and moved forward, planting Branson hard into the mat with a perfect bodyslam! BOOM!

Jake kept up the pressure, picking Branson up again. Jake positioned Branson’s head between his legs, filling Branson’s nose with the smell of his sweaty thighs. Branson shook awake, but before he could do anything, Jake had wrapped his arms around his waist and lifted him up. Jake slammed John’s back into the mat, this time executing a powerbomb! Jake stayed standing and kept hold. He lifted again, driving Branson back down. The back of Branson’s head hit hard, knocking him out. Jake did the move three more times, before letting go.

Jake wiped the blood from his mouth. He loved the taste of his own blood, it let him know he was still alive. Jake stood, chest heaving, muscles quivering. His sweat-soaked body was red from the effort. Jake truly did feel alive.

Jake enjoyed the moment, then picked up his stunned opponent and lifted him over his shoulder easily. John Branson hung limp over the ex-Marine’s shoulder as they circled the ring. Jake lowered Branson into the corner, placing both of his arms over the top ring ropes and both of his legs over the middle ring ropes. John Branson was trapped, spread out and perfectly positioned for Jake Branson to take care of him.

John Branson hung in the ropes, trying to escape, but unable to. He was a skilled amateur wrestler and becoming a skilled martial artist, but this was a street fight. Jake White had learned how to handle men in the Marines, but was relying on what he learned in the streets. Jake knew what to do when he had control and knew how to keep it.

Jake started landed his rock-hard fists into Branson’s spread thighs. Jake threw blow after blow into them, softening them up. When he was done, he started pounding on Branson’s biceps. “You won’t be kickin’ any time soon, pretty boy. But once I’m done wit’ ya, you won’t be doin’ much of anythin’! Ya better get a refund from that master you been training wit’, don’t ya think, rich guy?”

Jake was relentless, punishing John’s arms and legs for 30 minutes. He would slap or punch Branson’s chest and face for a change every minute or two, a couple of times sending the tycoon into dreamland, only to wake him up for more. John’s legs and arms were mush, the punishment unending.

When Jake finally pulled John off the ropes, he fell onto his face and couldn’t move. Jake kicked Branson in the ribs until Branson turned onto his back. Jake sneered, then reached for John’s singlet straps. Jake put a foot on John’s chest, then stretched the singlet until it snapped!

Jake tore it off him the rest of the way. Jake folded the singlet so that the Harvard insignia was showing. He then stuffed the singlet deep into John’s mouth as total humiliation. Jake pulled John Branson into the middle of the ring. He reached under Branson’s thighs and folded him back, bending the tycoon in half. John’s ass was sticking up as his knees were forced back beside his head. Jake held Branson’s unmoving body with one hand and pulled down his trunks, exposing his cock, with the other. It was rock hard – ten inches of solid steel and 6 inches around. He put the head against John Branson’s virgin hole and smiled malevolently. Branson woke up enough to scream, but his words were muffled by the singlet in his mouth.

Jake reached down and pulled out the singlet. “You got somethin’ to say?”

“No … please White … no … not that … please …” John Branson begged as he looked up at the ex-Marine who had defeated him; he couldn’t lift his body or break free, left to beg to avoid the rape.

Jake took the singlet and wrapped it over his cock, with the printed Harvard crest over the head. “I told ya I’d show ya that Harvard means nothing in the ring. You should be happy, rich guy, I’m usin’ a Harvard condom!”

Jake thrust his hips back and forth, working his Harvard-sheathed cock into the tight ass. John thrashed, but couldn’t throw Jake off him. He was helpless and beaten, but his pride wouldn’t allow him to submit! Jake was inside John, fucking his hole, Coach Howe finally noticed John’s shoulders were pinned. They had been perfectly pinned for minutes, but he had been so shocked to see Jake strip and fuck John that he had forgotten to count! He dropped down and began counting, ONE! TWO! Jake lifted John’s shoulders! “Jake, stop that!” Coach Howe warned.

ONE! TWO! Jake again moved to the side to raise one shoulder of John’s. Coach Howe breathed in deep, as Jake continued to fuck his new toy.

For a third time, Coach Howe counted. ONE! TWO! Jake again lifted John’s shoulders. Coach Howe said, “Jake, look, he’s done, beaten. Let me count him, eh?”

Jake continued to fuck John’s ass with his huge cock. John was in agony, but the pain from the beating, combined with the pain from the rape, meant that he could do nothing. Jake ignored Coach Howe, continuing to lift Branson’s shoulders whenever he got to two in the count.

Jake eased off Branson, wrapping his burly arms around the rich man’s legs. Jake stood, his cock staying inside his defeated foe. John was held upside down, shoulders flat on the mat, held aloft by the strength of Jake’s cock and hands. Jake continued to fuck John hard, then said, “Wake up, loser! You want this to end? Eh, mother fucker? You want this to end?”

John fought through the delirium and said, “… yes … please … let it end …”

Jake smiled, “Then count yourself out, loser. Coach, start slapping the bastard’s chest, nice and slow, but hard, I want you to make the bitch feel it.”

Coach Howe smiled in spite of himself. Jake was now his hero. What a man! Coach slapped John’s right pec for one. Jake screamed, “COUNT!”

John sobbed, “… one …”

Coach Howe continued, slapping again. John said, “… two …”

Coach Howe the slapped for a third time, leaving an even bigger red welt. There was a pause, but John finally said, “… three …”

As John said this, Jake came in his ass, filling the singlet with his huge load. As it leeched through, into Branson’s ass, it forever united his defeat with his rape. Jake continued to fuck John until he was soft; he then threw him off, sending him to the mat. Jake pulled off the cum-soaked singlet and stuffed it back in Branson’s mouth, letting him taste the combination of shit and cum. Jake pulled up his trunks and looked down with contempt at John Branson. Jake bent down and slapped John’s face, “Wakey, wakey, bitch … you haven’t been fucked by my boy yet …”

John was beaten and fucked, but Dave had recovered. He had seen the end of the rape and wanted to save his father any further pain or humiliation. They had lost, but he couldn’t let his father be used this way!

Dave stumbled forward and dove with his forearm up at the back of Jake’s head. He levelled the ex-Marine, freeing his father. Dave stood back and raised his fists, while Jake moaned in pain. WHUMP! OOF! Dave had been so focused on Jake that he had not noticed Mark, back from unconsciousness. Mark could not believe that the surprise kick had knocked him out for so long, but he was back now!

Mark grabbed Dave’s head and fell back, driving the young rich kid into the mat, in a DDT move! Dave moaned in pain, but was otherwise quiet. Mark climbed onto him and began pummelling Dave’s face. “Attack my father from behind? You son of a bitch! My dad won! You’re my boy now – I own you!” WHACK! SMACK! POW! WHAM! Mark kept pounding down on Dave, hitting him in the face, the side of the head, the upper chest. Mark swung wildly, rage overwhelming him.

“Whoa, Mark, calm down …” Jake pulled his son off Dave. Mark calmed down and hugged his father. The two men hugged and Coach Howe congratulated them. “It’s not done yet; we still have to figure out what we’re going to do with our new slaves!”

A deep voice rang out through the gym, “How about giving them to us for the day?”

Mark, Jake and Coach turned as the ten team members came out of hiding. They walked into the ring, congratulating Mark, stepping over and stepping on John and Dave. Mark said, “I thought you guys wanted Dave to win?”

“Mark, you was too out of it to hear what the old man said, but Dave ain’t no friend of mine or any of us! C’mon, let us have a go at these fuckers!”

The men agreed, too tired to use them any further themselves. On their way out of the ring, Jake reached down and ripped the Harvard singlet from Branson’s mouth as a souvenir.

*****

John Branson lay beaten in the ring, unable to believe his humiliation. Shane Jones, one of the offensive linemen seized hold of the old man’s hair. He dragged John to his knees. John looked up in shock. Shane was black, with deep rich brown skin and no hair on his 310lb frame. He was massively built with huge arms and legs, a big stomach and barrel chest. Shane was pissed as hell at John’s comments. He had been prepared to quit the team if Dave lost, but now he was happy Dave had been so thoroughly squashed.

“You got a big mouth, old man,” Shane snarled. His mother was from the projects and worked hard to give him a good life. He had heard this rich, spoiled, old money, mother-fucker imply that she was a crack whore and that he sucked cocks. Now he would pay.

A dazed John looked in fear at the monster over him, but his natural leadership took over. “Let go of me, Boy, or else I’ll press assault charges.”

“Boy? Did you just call me Boy?” Shane went out-of-control. He was the best lineman in the country, but his temper meant a lot of penalties and personal fouls. Shane slapped John hard across the face while holding his hair in the other hand. SMACK! Blood came flying out of John’s mouth! RIP! John fell to the mat, Shane still holding tight to a fistful of hair, but the force of the slap was so great that John had tumbled down anyway, losing all the hair from the top of his head.

John struggled to rise to his hands and knees, blood dripping from his mouth. He managed to get his knees under him, but in doing so, he propped his naked ass into the air. The temptation was too great for Shane. He tore down his jeans, then clutched John’s narrow hips in his hands. John squirmed instinctively, but was powerless in the lineman’s impossibly big hands.

“Let … let … let me … go,” John spat out, but Shane was in a rage now. The lineman thrust his big hard cock into the white man’s ass and tore open the hole even further! YEARGH! John screamed and thrashed; this cock even bigger than Jake’s! Shane, unlubed and uncaring, fucked John’s ass, drawing blood. John was crying again like a baby, before passing out from the pain.

*****

When John woke up, it was from water falling onto his back. He woke up in the shower. He was tied to the exposed pipes, bent over a bench. His aching ass was sticking straight up in the air. He looked out and standing in front of him was his son, Dave, battered and bruised himself. Dave’s chest was heaving and the young man was sobbing, but his cock was hard and throbbing.

Shane walked up behind John and whispered in his ear. “Too bad you passed out. All ten of us fucked your sorry ass.”

John was beaten, but unbroken, “You’ll pay for this you son of a bitch! I’ll have you locked away so fast, and then you’ll be the one who’s fucked!”

Shane laughed, “You do that and this all comes out at trial. How you were beaten by white trash and fucked by a football team. We got video of the whole match and the fucking you took.”

John kept his mouth shut. He didn’t care what came out at trial, but he knew that if he kept threatening it, these young men might do something worse. Of course, Shane already had something worse in mind.

Dave, you know what you have to do. Do it and you keep your balls. Don’t and lose them. Your choice.”

Dave looked at Shane then at his bound and helpless father. He said quietly, “I’m sorry Dad, but I can’t take anymore, I’m sorry.” Dave stepped forward and forced his cock into his Dad’s mouth, fucking it hard and long. John sucked his son’s cock, unable to do anything else. Despite the pain, Dave actually got off a little on using his Dad’s mouth. Within minutes, the young ex-quarterback was rock hard, moaning and groaning as his father choked on his son’s big cock.

Shane silently waved at Dave and Dave slid his cock out. While he moved around to his father’s ass, a wide receiver slid on his back under John and forced a rubber ball into the old man’s mouth, gagging him. When he was positioned, Dave gritted his teeth. He had been told what he had to do and reluctantly did it. Dave started slapping his Dad’s ass and then fondled it, “Mmm, you have a sweet ass Dad … you’ve used my ass for so long, I’m glad you let me use yours for once. Remember when I was 8, and at my birthday party you fucked me, while my friends waited in the basement? And how all summer you made me suck your cock like a Popsicle? Mmm, my own special summer treat, remember Dad?”

John was shocked at Dave’s words – all lies! But he couldn’t do anything because of the ball gagging him! Meanwhile, Dave slid into his Dad’s stretched ass easily, then started working in and out. Dave quickly came in his Dad’s ass, filling it with even more hot white cum.

The football team untied John and stood laughing at the man. One of the team members had a laptop and showed the screen to John. They had hooked up a video camera to the laptop and showed John his rape by his son. Dave was sitting, knees to his chest, head down and sobbing.

Shane said to a shocked John, “Now old man, you try to do anything to us and we got some real nice video of you in the act. Notice how your hands are tied just out of frame? And I like how the gag is invisible. Nice work, boys. No one will ever know you weren’t willing. Now you be a good piece of shit and crawl out of here on your hands and knees. And take your loser son with you.”

Dave and John crawled out of the shower room, devastated and humiliated.

*****

For the rest of the season, John would clean Jake’s trailer every Sunday, wearing a French maid’s uniform, while the men watched Mark quarterback the team to the National title. After each victory, Jake viciously fucked his toy, cumming at least once in John’s ass and mouth every week.

Dave worked as team waterboy during the game and a whore afterward. Dave sucked every man’s cock after every game, just like his father had claimed Mark did. When the team was 5-0, Shane decided it was a good luck ritual, so everyone made sure to cum in his mouth to keep the streak going. Even Coach Howe got in the act. During the week, Dave lived in Mark’s apartment and was Mark’s bitch 24/7.

The mental torture forced John to retire and Dave to fail his final year at college. When Mark won the Heisman and was drafted first overall, he smiled and, on both occasions, thanked God, his father and Coach Howe, of course, but always thanked John and Dave Branson for their tremendous support.