Page 56 of Built To Perform

“No, seriously, dude.” Brayden sounded closer, now, but my position draped across Jefferson’s shoulder made it impossible to turn around and see. “This is one peachy lil muscle-jock ass. You just don’t catch people drooling because you’re facing the opposite direction.”

“Come on,” I protested. It wasn’t that I minded being objectified by my teammates, though I’d never admit that to them. More just that their unfiltered, unashamed praise was competing with my own, perpetual concern that my physique was a never-ending work-in-progress.

I expected the usual back and forth of admiration and objection, then. Not fingers digging into the waistband of my sweatpants and dragging them down.

“Brayden!”

No answer, though, and no slowing. Just the sudden sensation of my ass being bared, Jefferson’s arm across my lower back tightening as his teammate stripped me.

“Fuck, lil bro,” Brayden murmured, appreciatively, and then pushed his face between my cheeks.

The squeak was half out of me - loud and mortifyingly shrill - before I stuffed my fist in my mouth. Wide-eyed in shock, as Brayden wasted no time in licking across my hole with hungry eagerness.

“W-wait!”

He ignored my protest, or maybe he just couldn’t hear it. My voice muffled and shaky as I squirmed in Jefferson’s iron grip.

“You taste amazing, lil bro,” Brayden purred, pulling back just enough to deliver the compliment, and then his mouth was on me again.

His drool was already running down my legs, the slick of it across my balls. Brayden’s fingers pulling at me, his hands spreading my cheeks as his thumbs dug in alongside his tongue. Overloading my muscles, as I gasped and kicked my legs ineffectually.

I whimpered as he pulled my erection back between my thighs. My hips tilting automatically.

“Look at this fat, juicy wrestler-stud cock,” Brayden crowed. “You’re already leaking, lil bro. I guess you like it.”

I did like it, that was the problem. Body already experiencing withdrawal symptoms, hungry for the rasp of his tongue and the push of his thick, long fingers into me.

That was the thing about my brothers on the team. They’d long ago figured out what it took to get me hard and needy.

Gripping my cock in his fist, Brayden set to working his tongue into me. Ignoring my gasps and splutters; the way I twitched and jolted, yet was unable to twist away because of his hold on me.

It was difficult to focus on Donny’s grin, difficult even just to keep my head up. Fighting the urge to slump across Jefferson’s shoulder, boneless and overwhelmed.

“He’s good at it, isn’t he,” the junior said, tone conspiratorial.

My nod was jerky. I knew Donny had discovered a love of ass-play when he first joined the team: the prank the older wrestlers played on newbies, telling them a simple butt plug was actually some sort of biometric probe to collect fitness data, had unlocked his fascination with toys. I’d not really had a chance to discuss that with him, at least nothing more than casual teasing. Combined with the revelation this week of his interest in public play, though, I was far more curious to have that conversation.

On a day where I wasn’t being steadily turned to jelly, perhaps, by a teammate apparently intent on pushing his entire tongue into my hole.

Donny tilted my head, his fingers under my chin, and I watched his grin getting closer. His face filling my view, until his lips were pressing against mine.

Kissing had been another revelation, maybe one worth the price of college tuition alone. It’d been embarrassing - well, one of a whole bunch of embarrassments about teenage milestones I’d missed out on altogether - going to college having never been kissed. Discovering just how incredible it could feel, having my big bros show me that indescribable mixture of intimacy, and lust, and battle as you made out with another guy, had blown my mind.

Not that I had much space in there now for reminiscing. Not with two of my teammates mauling me, one on each side of Jefferson’s meaty body.

I reached down, gripping his torso wherever I could best reach it. Feeling the dense muscle beneath his shirt, the swells and plains of painstakingly-honed flesh. I’d seen it at work, in the weights room and out on the mats in competitions, and I’d watched - amused, and envious, and hopelessly turned on - as Jefferson turned heads wherever he walked. Curiosity and desire left in his wake, and the man himself practically oblivious to his effect on others.

Being able to grope at those muscles now, at that godlike body, felt dangerously illicit. Not that Donny seemed able to resist the temptation, either.

“Oh, fuck,” I gasped, as Brayden slid another finger into me. I’d lost count of how many it was, now; how much of that stretching, pulling, teasing sensation was his tongue and how much his hand. Couldn’t quite bring myself to care about the details, either. Not with the familiar itch awakened in me.

It wasn’t easy, not with the angles involved, but I managed to grab hold of Jefferson’s head. Contort my own up, to bring my mouth as close to his ear as I could.

“Put me down and I’ll suck your dick.”

I heard him chuckle, even as he deposited me roughly on the bench. Knocking the air from me; leaving me sprawling there, trying to catch my breath as my erection bobbed and drooled.

The three of them fell upon me like hungry wolves.