The Combine

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned…”

I walk into the gymnasium. I’m clad only in my underwear. I hand my card off to some guy I’ve never seen before. Hot day, even for June. As I walk across the surprisingly cool floor I hear my information being announced.

“Robert Legend. First Year. St. Mary’s. 5’2” 108. 6^th & 7^th baseball. 6^th & 7^th basketball. 6^th and 7^th swimming…”

As I walk to the crest of St. Matt’s I make the decision. I walk up to the red mark on the wood floor in front the entire athletic staff of the school. Sitting in the front is The Bishop as well as the Dean of Moral Guidance, Brother Gabriel. As I stop on the line—in a seamless move—I pull down my shorts and step back. The room goes quiet. I hear someone gasp.

At an all-boys College Prep, sport is king. Football rules all. The Combine separates the men from the boys. Over a period of a week in early June, everyone trying out for football shows up—which is most of the school. The best I could hope for is First Year Football. If I were bigger, I’d have a slight chance at Freshman Football. Varsity and JV are out of the question for First Years.

Sunday afternoon the day before the first day of Combine. I’ll be starting at St. Matt’s in the Fall. My oldest brother James is a senior. He’s showing my brother Erik and his buddies what he does for “the drop.” Strictly Juniors and Seniors.

Walking in from the dining room, where he just striped to his boxers. James enters confidently and stops. In a swift move he bends and drops his shorts. He stands back. James has a big one and likes showing it off. James shouts as they will tomorrow, “Raise your arms.” His arms go up. “Turn to two!” He drops his arms, making a quarter turn. “Turn to three.” Another quarter turn and we’re staring at his muscled ass. With each turn, his schlong swings. It's amazing to watch. 

“Arms!” He raises his arms. He turns to us, “Sometimes, they’ll say ‘Turn to four’, but almost never. Guys always fuck up on that.” He turns back to one, does a flick with his foot, flinging his underwear up, and walks out. “Wait for them to tell you to leave. They want to see you take direction well.”

Erik and his buddies just have to stand there in their shorts, as do I.

I’m hearing his words as I stand there in front of these men. These guys have been doing this all day. Seniors and Juniors were in the morning. They’re bored. First years are a formality. Freshman are the lowest at most schools. At St. Matthews College Preparatory the First Years are insignificant and pushed in and out of The Combine quickly. I hear them chatting. Something about a guy named Archie Bunker.

Legends hit puberty in a particular way: we get pubes, tiny bit of pit hair and our junk grows full size… then we stop. And wait. Suddenly, about two years in, we start to grow hard and fast. My balls dropped the previous summer. I’m still small.

In a fluid motion James would be proud of, I drop my briefs. Stand back on the one and stare straight ahead. My junk looks huge on my small frame. They are silent. I’m ready for them to send me on my way.

After what seems like an eternity: “Arms…” I raise my arms up from my side.

“Go to two…”

“…three…” I hear some whispers, pencils scratching.

“Back to one…” Quick half turn. My dick swings and slaps my thigh. In the silence of the room, it makes a clear and loud “smack.” I hear someone mutter “Jesus…” as it swings down.

 “Yeah…” the voice says. “…you can go.” I hear a muttered, “And don’t trip over that…” followed by some muffled laughs. I glance at the Bishop and Brother Gabriel who do not look pleased.

By the time I get into the locker room to get my clothes, I’m already known as “The First Year Flasher.” The guys are joking and laughing. I start to collect my school uniform. The room goes cold and quiet. Brother Gabriel places his cool hand on my bare shoulder. He stands over me. I feel very naked.  

“Follow me to my office.” He turns and walks to the door. I stumble along, dressing as I try to keep up. He does not slow his pace as I cross campus scrambling to pull on my clothes. I manage to get my shirt on as we arrive at his office. I don’t even bother with my tie.

His secretary takes down my information. “Another Legend?” She sighs. “How many of them are you?” I stammer, a voice calls out from the office, “Come.”

I shut the door slowly. I’m worried this is going to be the end of my life. It’s just the beginning. His office is dark. Plain. Multiple degrees on the wall. Not much else except for several crosses and a lot of books. I stand in front of his desk. I’m Shaking.  

Father Gabriel asks me if I was trying to provoke a response. I don’t understand the question. He tries another approach which I also don’t get. Finally, “You are a prideful boy. What did you hope to achieve by that stunt?”

I stare at him for a second. He looks so cross. I think it bothers me more because he’s so good looking. Tall, athletic, extremely handsome. Dark hair, light blue eyes. To a kid, he seems old. He’s barely 40. He rarely smiles. When he does, he’s one of those guys you wonder why he isn’t fucking everything in sight when he’s that good looking.

He has me sit. He comes around the desk and sits close. He holds my hands and sighs. “The truth…” He closes his eyes. “I believe in the truth…” He pauses for what feels like an eternity. “Perhaps confession would be best.” I don’t want to, but I nod. Confession is private. He notes confession can’t go on my school record.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned…”

He moves in closer and grasps my hands. It’s so close and intimate. I whisper as I go through the normal things: impure thoughts. Touching myself. Swearing. Disrespectful to my parents, etc. He asks about today. I repeat my earlier response.

“Do you feel confidant because of your… size?” I shrug.

“Speak up boy. Do you feel prideful of your gift?” I don’t know what to say.

He moves his hands to my knees—gives them a firm, disciplinary squeeze. “A response please…”

“I guess.”

“Did you hope to get a response from us?” His hands gently rub my thighs. Like he’s my buddy…

“I guess…”

“You guess?” I can feel his breath on my neck as he moves in.

“Um… Yeah. Yes, Brother Gabriel.”

His voice drops lower, “Did you mean to arouse me?”

I start to answer when I realize he said “Me.” He’s aroused? But he’s a Man of God. Is this a trick? I’m paralyzed with fear.  I don’t know how to answer.  He hands move up my thighs.

“Are you aroused?” His hand moves to my crotch. He feels my hardening dick through the fabric of my slacks. “Yes. You prideful boy…” He pushes me back in the chair. Starts unbucking my belt. Pulling open my pants. He tugs hard. My dick Flops out. He whispers, “My, Heavenly Lord…”

He’s down on my rod in a second. I pull back. I grow rigid in his mouth. He grabs my pants at the sides and pulls me deeper into his mouth. I’m trying not to freak out. I stare at one of the crosses. This is sinful, right? Sports jizz aside, this is wasting sperm. It’s not going towards recreation. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It feels really good. He takes me all the way down and chokes a little. That’s all I need. “Father, I’m gonna…!” Without looking up, he reaches up and smacks his hand over my mouth. I do all I can not to cry out as my balls release.

I unleash my load down his throat. He gags. He tries to swallow, it spills down his chin. Brother Gabriel milks me as I twitch. He pulls off. Wipes his chin. He stands above me. His hands move fast as he pulls his pants down. His dick is nice. Kind of big. Not as big as mine. Big bush. Smooth. Uncut. I’d even say it’s pretty. He pulls me close and stuffs it into my mouth.

“Take it, you prideful boy…” It enters my mouth and instantly starts coming. I don’t even taste his dick before I taste his cum. I swallow it all. I pull off, look up and grin. He looks down at me and smiles. “You are so prideful.”

He pulls his pants up and walks silently back to his desk. I stuff my dick back in my pants and zip up.

Father Gabriel flips through a file. My file. I already have a file. “You have a free period on Tuesdays at 3pm. We’ll meet then.” He looks up. I’m not sure what this means, so I just stare like an idiot. “When school starts, I expect to see you in my office at 3:00pm every Tuesday for private confession. Is that clear?” I nod. “You may go…”

I stand. “Father…”

“Yes, Robert.” He does not look up.

“Was that a sin?” He raises those blue eyes and glares. “I mean, sperm should be used for procreation and…”

He stops me. “It is the basis of life. It feeds and nourishes. Do you think the Lord does not want us to be nourished?”

Not sure what to say. I manage a long “Uh…”

He sits back and looks me up and down. “Your family has quite a checkered past at this school, Mr. Legend. I kindly suggest we keep this quiet between us—I know your grandfather is paying for your education, but you family history is quite… questionable.” I nod. Message received.

He stops me as I leave. Brother Gabriel walks over and tucks in my shirt, fixes pants, adjusts my collar. “For someone so prideful, one would think you’d pay more attention to how you dress.” I thank him and start to leave.

He pulls me back. “A gentleman shakes hand upon entering and upon leaving.” I shake his hand, thank him. He holds onto my hand. He brings his left hand to my face and leans forward. Is he going to kiss me? He whispers in my ear, “Be a good soul…” I have no response, so I leave.  

Later that summer I’ll find out that my brothers also had confession with Brother Gabriel. James was lustful on Fridays, Erik impertinent on Wednesday mornings.

That night I can’t sleep. This was my first day, what will the rest of the school year hold?

BTW: Never made Varsity...

   

The Boosters

I’ve been hesitant about writing about some of my high school experiences. Being whored out is not easy to write about. Less so when it was enjoyable. Even less than that when I pursued much of it. It’s hard to convey the whole situation. Where to start? How much to reveal?

So I’ve decided just to post some experiences. Not always in sequence. Just as they come to me. Let others figure out how the puzzle all fits together. Take from it what you will…

Private Jesuit boys school. I’m a poor kid. Not on scholarship. My grandparents pay for our tuition, but nothing else. Extras have to be earned. In order to play sports, we have to volunteer. We have to help raise money for the school. We have to grease the wheels.

Make no mistake, the Bishop and Board know. Impossible that they don’t. The ends justifies the means. If that means some of the boys have to sin, so be it. Forgiveness comes from good works and confession. Sin all you want… confession is at 8:00am on Saturdays. And just to make it all Kosher, the very priests involved were the ones who heard my confession.

Freshman football.  I' never make Varsity. I spend most of my time trying to avoid my coach’s wrath. I spend the rest receiving it.

Still developing. Won’t have a true growth spurt until the fall of my Junior year. Until then, I move awkwardly along. My dick grows, the rest of my body takes time to catch up.  My time in football gives me discipline in the gym. Teaches me about teamwork. I make some great friends. I have some great sex.

But my heart and dick will belong to my baseball coach. I first saw Him when I attended one of my brothers’ games. He owned me from the moment I saw Him. He would become my mentor. My lover. My friend. More on Him another time.

Being on the team was a big stretch for me. Making it wasn’t. Pretty much everyone who tries out gets on. You just don’t get playing time. If you want more playing time, you’ve gotta earn it. Any way you can.

That’s where the Boosters come in. They pay for everything. Uniforms. Weight rooms. Travel. The coaches and the priests allow them free reign. What they want, they get. Often they want the athletes. They watch our practices and games. They study us. The covet us. We are offered up on the altar of free money. For private schools, that money buys trophies and championships.

My brothers gave me the low-down before I even applied. I saw what it got them. I was ready to play.

Saturday. A week before our first preseason game. We’re running drills. Not in pads. More for muscle memory—although no one will call it that for years. The Boosters are on the sidelines watching. Always watching.

I head into the locker room. Coach tells me to head into the supply room. Years ago they used to pass out fresh towels and wash them.  The equipment and towels are gone. It’s mostly empty. The room is full of a lot of old broken equipment. And Mr. Randall.

I’ve seen him at a lot of practices. I went to grade school with his oldest son Jerry. Died of Leukemia when we were ten.  His youngest won’t be here for a few years. He's about 6'. Thick, fuzzy body. Reminds me of a bulldog. All muscle. Tough. Marine. The kind of guy everyone says "Yes, sir" to him a lot. He's got piercing blue eyes that when he stares you, makes you want to piss in your pants. You don't want him on your bad side.

“You did well out there today.”

“Thanks.”

“You’ve improved a lot… getting bigger.” I nod.  He puts his hand on my shoulder. He smiles.  “You know why you’re here?” I nod. “Okay, then.” He unbuckles his pants. Pulls them down a bit. Stops. Looks at me. “Get to it.”

I’m in a daze. It doesn’t feel real. My first experience in a truly surreal situation. I drop to my knees. I pull down his pants. He’s hard in his BVDs.

It’s not that big. It’s thick. Just not long. The way he’s stands there, I’d imagined it being huge. He’s got the confidence of a well hung man. His dick is dark. It looks different from the rest of him. It’s nice, just different. His balls are huge. Big hairy globes that hang low. As I take him into my mouth, I roll those beautiful balls in my hands.

He tastes musky and I taste a little pee. I don’t think he showered this morning. He tastes like a man. A real man. Not a boy. Not the boys I’ve been blowing. I look up to him. His eyes are closed. I wonder what he’s thinking? He opens his eyes. Looks down. I’d stopped sucking. e He grabs my head. Fucks my face.

Our eyes lock. He slows. Watching me take his dick. “Yeah…” He gives me a slight smile. “Here you go boy…” I feel his huge balls rise.  He looks straight ahead and sighs. His dick begins to pulse. “Yes… yeah…”

My mouth is filling with his load. Fuck, it’s big. I try to swallow, but he’s so damn thick. He pulls me down on his dark dick. I can’t close my mouth.  I begin to choke. I cough up some of his jizz. It splatters back onto his dick and furry stomach.

I pull back and swallow. It’s thick. It’s salty. It’s delicious. He’s still shooting and a glob shoots on my face, just below my eye. I drop back on it. He releases more spunk into my mouth. I drink it down.

I lick up the jizz I coughed up on him earlier. He makes me suck up the last drops still dripping out of his dark dong.  Using his finger, he pushes the glob on my face into my mouth.

Minutes later we’re walking back into the locker room. Guys are changing. Showering. No one seems to notice. Those that do just nod and move on.  Been there. Done that.

We continue to the office.  Up the eight steps. The coaches offices look down on the locker room. Easy to watch over the guys in the showers.

Mr. Randall tells coach he thinks it’s going to be a great season. Hands Him an envelope. It’s got a check in it. First payment. Keep him happy and future checks will come. He pats me on the shoulder. Tells coach I’ve got a future ahead of me. As Mr. Randall leaves, he shakes my hand and winks.  He slips me fifty bucks.

I’m officially a whore.

I don’t care. Fifty bucks is a shitload of money for me back then.

Sunday morning. Mass is over.  I’m changing out of my altar boy vestments. Father Anthony tells me he’s heard great things about me. Mr. Randall called him to tell him that he should be very proud. I start to kneel. He stops me. “He’d like to give you a ride home…”

Mr. Randall drives a 1978 Ford Mustang Cobra II. We drive for a while.  It’s sweet. He asks me if I want to drive it. I don’t have my license. I say “sure.”  We drive into the hills. Other than the occasional “Slow down” he says little.

Along a secluded road, he tells me to pull over. He tells me he enjoyed the other day. Asks me if we can meet now and again. I shrug. I don’t want to seem too eager. Don’t want to seem like a fag.  He leans in close. “Shuck your pants.” 

He drives back. Both of us a big load lighter. I came faster than I wanted to. I worry he thinks I’m a fag. As he drops me off at my house, he shakes my hand and winks. He slips me fifty bucks. Awesome.

Two Saturdays later. Lost our game. I played for a total of three plays. I barely have a grass stain on my uniform.  As I pack my gear up and head out, Coach calls me. He’s got an envelope in his hand.  Mr. Randall would like to give me a ride home.

He drives me to his house.  Not sure where his wife and kids are. I don’t ask. We’re in his bedroom. I’ve been here twice before. The first time, when his son was still alive. Before he was sick. Mr. Randall was in the shower and Jerry wanted money to go to the movies. It was the first time I’d seen his dark dick. He didn’t shy from showing it off. He threw the towel over his shoulder.

The second time was the previous week when he brought me over to blow him. He sat back on the bed and let me work on his rod for an hour. When he’d get close, he’d push me off and have me suck on his balls.

On this Indian Summer afternoon, he has something new in store for me.  We roll around for a while. Chewing on each other. Blowing each other. Sucking on various parts. We never kiss. Because that would be gay. He rolls me onto my stomach and smacks my ass. I push it up for him to play with. He fingers it. Spits. Licks it. I push back.

“I know what you need…”

I’m on my back and he’s trying to enter me. His thick cock tries forcing its way in. I cry out in pain. He tells me to “man up” and take it. I’ve been fucked before. But this is the thickest I’ve taken. His log seems to get thicker and hurt more with each push. I want to tell him to use more lube. I lack the confidence to tell an adult how I should be fucked.

I finally start to relax and let him pummel my ass. He stops to change positions. Each time, it feels a little better. After being fucked bent over the bed, he throws me back on the bed. “Time to take this home.” He climbs onto to me. My legs instinctively open up for him. He moves over me.

He’s in me. It feels great. “I’m going to cum deep in you, son.” He keeps up his assault on my ass until I beg him to fuck me harder. I hold on to him. Staring into his eyes. “Please… papa…”  I’d never used that term before, but it does the trick. He empties that thick, dark penis into my ass.  I lay there, feeling his thick cock continually twitch and pump in my hole.

After, in the shower, he jerks me off from behind. I’m so turned on, I beg him to fuck me one more time. Using conditioner for lube, he obliges me. He doesn’t last very long. Again, I called him “Papa” and he nuts.

Totally spent, he drives me home.  Drops me off a block from the house. Doesn’t want anyone to know what’s going on.  As get out, he shakes my hand and winks. I thank him. Again he slipped me fifty bucks.  He won’t be the last Booster to pay me for sex.