You felt so privileged to be one of coach’s cheerleaders. A dream come true. The jocks and bulls all treated you like their younger brother. They watched out for you, protected you, covered for you.

You loved going out to lunch with them – the bulls stuffing back six burgers with extra fries, the jocks with their large portions of chicken, rice and broccoli, you and your cheer brothers with your salad and grilled chicken – and knowing without asking that they were gonna pay for you. You’d sit on one of the bull’s laps while they told dirty stories and laugh along as he casually slipped his hand in your slutty shorts and fondled your puffy pussy.

Or you loved being invited to the frat for a jock night in. The boys getting drunk and high, having burping competitions and playing Mario Kart, while you and the cheerbois served food and drinks and kept morale up by decrying how great and manly your jock brothers were. Sometimes, a jock would just pick you up and slam you on the sofa, or else bend you over a chair. Their dicks are locked away, so they can’t fuck, but they’re all tops, and they all want your pussy, and so they go through the motions of fucking you. And though you’re sad they can’t actually rut you, you love them for wanting to.

You always thought they felt a bit sorry for you. Like, you must be upset you couldn’t measure up to their masculine greatness. But you didn’t think that way at all. You felt profoundly happy to be at the service of these jocks and bulls: to be an available and generous bottom for them to play with. You especially loved the bulls. Total tops, aggressive, toxic, but deeply affectionate towards you. To be a sexual outlet for one of their daily milkings was a dream come true.

Read the first Jocked novel here!

What it means to be Jocked, and more posts here

Check out my Tumblr and Twitter