New Jock Tales—-Freshman year–Sweet 16 PT 1

It was the most anticipated day of my life. More than anything football. More than Christmas. More than the day I finally popped out numbers 7 and 8 abs. More than the day I discovered hair up in the crack of my ass. Even more than the day just a few weeks ago when I finally measured up 9”. Lotta of fuck meat for a Freshman. Today, was my birthday—drivers license !

I met it with a bit of melancholy though. The original plan was to be at the car lot, and grab that jeep I had my eye on for a whole year now. It was actually still there. But since the falling out with Mark Mattox back before school started, I hadn’t done as well at getting ‘hook ups’, selling my big jock dick to pleasure middle age women, and sometimes men. He arranged most of that. I was still about $750 short.

I decided to not let it get me down. I jumped up out of bed, dick swaggin half way to my knee. After a quick piss, up the stairs for some coffee, and a smoke. Mom was home from the diner—already snoozed out. I put on the coffee, and head back downstairs. I fish out my moto pants, and put them on freeballin. I loved the tightness of the kevlar fabric—without a jock, there was no hiding ur rod in these puppies.

Back upstairs I pour up a cup. Back downstairs again, this time sliding into my moto boots. They were already getting a bit snug, only a few months old. I figure I would be a sz 12 by the end of summer. I smiled to myself at how I had blackmailed dad into getting me the dirt bike, and all the gear. Son-of-a-bitch should not haved r a p e d my ass, along with help from Mark Mattox, and Maurice.

Putting on the chest protector and jersey, then back upstairs for a go cup of coffee, I head for the garage and swing open the door. It was a beautiful day in May in east Texas. Already heating up for the summer, about 80 degrees. School would be out in just 2 weeks.

Unchaining the dirt bike from his rack (yep—him), I put my go cup in the back pack and sling it over my shoulder. Mounting the bike, just two kicks and it fires right up. I grin as I rev the engine a few times. Already my dick n balls start stirring. I blast out of the garage like it was a tunnel—fantasizing to myself of getting the ‘holeshot up the middle’ That’s motocross talk. I plan to ride in some contests this summer—so we’ll see how that goes. Straight down the street a few blocks to the abandoned golf corse, then across it to the field behind. It had rained three days this week, so I figured the best way to cheer me up was to get muddy. And I loved to get dirty—dry or wet.

I spent about two hours tearing up the field. I was totally covered. I had peeled three layers of shields off my goggles, and now had only one left. Decided I should quit until I could get more peel a-ways, I take off my helmet and casually head back up the street towards the house.

About half way up I see a man flagging me down, looked to be about 40 or so.