New Jock Tales–Chptr 5–Me and Mr Jones

New Jock Tales—Chptr 5—Me and Mr. Jones

“Hey great game guys—gotta jet” “What’s up Dillon—gotta hot date”? “Ya, I think so” “No shower ? Hope she likes funk” ! “ya, me too”

I grabbed my duffel bag from my locker, and quickly ran out the shower house. We had a good game that night, and I was pretty excited. Even at 10:00 at night, it’s was pretty fuckin hot in East Texas—about 80. I was sweatin like a pig, and damm near smelled like one. I hopped in the GTO with Mark Mattox. Catching me right after the game he said he had a ‘client’ set up for me that liked young hot sweaty jocks. He said this would be an easy gig—just kick back and let the dudes mouth do all the work. He fires up a joint and takes a hit, then passing it over, I suck up about half the dope in one long pull. Mark just looks at me and comments ‘damm homie’. I just grin and reach inside my uniform pants to pull out my cup, leaving my dick and balls bunched up inside my sweaty jock.

We arrive at a dark warehouse on the South side. One of those spooky looking places late at night. Opening a sliding door that screeched like an air raid whistle, we walk across the concrete floor to some offices. The sound of my cleats on the concrete echoed throughout the building—no sneaking in here. Inside one of the offices, , we find, OMG it’s Mr. Clark ! I flash a look at of horror at Mark and he just grins and says “roll wit it homie”

Having his back to us when we entered the room, Mr. Jones turns around after fishing some buds from the mini fridge. One look and he just says, “oh fuckin Jesus”. Mark chuckles, and replies “I told you you would like him”. Mark grabs a beer from Mr. Clark and starts heading out the office. “Yo homie—where you goin” ? “Chill dawg, just down the hallway to the break room—just holler when ur ready”

Mr. Clark gives a big smile at me, and just says “have a seat”. Pointing the the large leather office chair behind the desk. I did as he said, and sitting in the chair, extended my legs, and crossed them at my ankles. My jersey was open, and you could clearly see my sweaty chest and abs drenched. Even my pits were still dripping, and the warehouse had no fans running at the time. I figure it was close to 100 degrees inside. I continued sucking on my beer and Mr. Jones instructed “this will be really easy. You just kick back like you are, and no talking. I will do all the work, and you just do as instructed.” Odd, I thought, so I just gave a nod.

Mr. Clark then walked between me and the office desk, and went down to his knees.