Tag: cap

Toilet Stalls

Mark waiting in one of the toilet stalls at Sparta for the, uh, “straight” bro he’s been wooing to sneak in and fuck his perfect ass.

Mark’s path always begins with flattery. Gym bros are universally vain and self-conscious and in constant search for validation. Mark gives them what they want. He compliments their bodies, their lifts, their clothes, and he does it with a warming smile. A few weeks of building the bro’s confidence with his words of affirmation, and Mark starts dropping hints about his sex life. It’s planting the idea in the guy’s head – an idea that he has perhaps never truly let himself think about. Men have sex with men. He knows about it intellectually, but he’s never really seen it in the wild.

The dude starts to look at Mark’s mouth differently. All of a sudden, he sees it as a potential house of pleasure. And every now and then, Mark will catch him looking at his butt. So strong and perky and spankable; so much what men want to stick their dicks into. And once Mark’s drops the old “Oh yeah, I fucking love bottoming. I let dudes fuck me as hard as they want”, the guy’s a lock.

And so, the toilet stalls. Lured in by Mark’s brazen, confident sexuality and his genuine love-bombing, and the guy proves something Mark has known his whole life – most straight men… aren’t. And Mark gets to be the beneficiary of the dude’s sexual re-awakening.

Mark loves his life.


See what Mark’s about here, and read about his adventures here.

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Daddy Hole

Mark’s gym daddy (one of them) strutting around with his usual confidence. Earned, clearly. Mark was enjoying the view while daddy was on the step-machine. He’s a total top to Mark and his other boys, but he’s got the glutes of a young god. Mark would bet money that some dom top is making good use of that daddy hole, and would think it a damn shame if he wasn’t.

Maybe Mark could be that dom top. Good bois aren’t necessarily bottoms and cocksuckers. Sometimes, the best thing a man can do to serve is to top. Maybe Mark will get a piece of that daddy hole.


See what Mark’s about here, and read about his adventures here.

Buy his stories here

Mark’s Duty

The look Tony gives Mark after his car blowie. They’ve both got their pump on, full-body. Now that Mark’s seen to his immediate needs, Tony’ll head home to his pregnant wife and spend some good quality time, relaxed. Mark’s duty is done. Tasted good, too.

“Thanks, bro,” he says, kind and genuine.

Mark wipes the cum from his mouth and chin. “It was totally my pleasure, dude.”

“Went a bit hard on you there, though, huhu. You don’t mind, right?”

“Nope,” said Mark with a wink.

Tony sticks his fingers in Mark’s mouth, already rebooting for a potential second round. Mark revs up in excitement. But the moment passes. Tony pulls his fingers out with a wet plunging sound, kicks Mark out the car with a smile and drives off.

How so many of Mark’s hook-ups end. But this is Mark’s duty, so he’ll see it through.


See what Mark’s about here, and read about his adventures here.

Buy his stories here

Showing Off

Mark’s gonna cycle to Sparta today. This is what he’ll be wearing. There and back. Showing off comes naturally to a beautiful, thicc-assed good boi who’s brought hundreds of men to heel.

He’ll turn plenty of heads at the gym. Some of his fuck bros will be there, and they’ll each steal a glance at his perfect, cuntable ass – never knowing that the bro two machines down is doing and thinking the same thing. His dick will spike, his thoughts will turn from lifting to fucking, and Mark will just need to light one little spark – a quick flash of his bare ass, a wink and an air-kiss while bro’s off-guard, an earnest praising of a bro’s gym-honed body – and the bro of his choice will be in the toilets or the sauna of the jacuzzi giving Mark the androphilic pleasure he craves.

Mark loves the power he has over his boys. And it is power. Even when Mark plays the bottom or the sub or the slut, he is always in control. Any power a bro has is borrowed, never owned. Mark would never let himself become a man’s victim.

Either way, you can’t blame my boy for showing off.


See what Mark’s about here, and read about his adventures here.

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Welcome

The following is an excerpt from my story Gym Bros #1: The Jock. Buy the full thing on Amazon.


“Welcome,” said Dan to a man across the desk. “How can I-”. He cleared his throat. “How can I help you, today?”

“Was hoping to join,” said the man. He spoke in the same cadence as all gym bros. Low, breathless, carefully unprissy.

Mark was the same. As he licked teasingly on the thick rod waggling before him, his mind wandered. Gym bros had a way of speaking that distinguished them from the general man. Maybe it was the heavy roids the dudes did. Maybe it was their societal hang-ups forcing them down an octave. Maybe such men were destined for the gym. Fuck knows.

“Just moved nearby,” said the customer.

“Nice,” said Dan. He paused just as Mark really got down to work. “You from New York?”

“Nah, Oklahoma. Just landed a job here in the city.”

“That’s great, man. Have you- mmm. Have you used one of our gyms before?”

The client frowned in confusion as he stared down the 40-year old ex-bodybuilder with his bulging arms and frayed baseball cap. “You alright, dude?”

“Yeah. Sorry, just nursing an old injury.”

“Sorry to hear that, bro.”

“Comes with the territory.” His hand came below desk and grabbed the back of Mark’s head. “Tore my quad up years ago when I used to play football.”

Dan subtly jutted his hips forward and back. Mark kept pace, never gagging.

“Damn, sounds painful.”

Mark giggled silently from his hiding space. It was anything but painful, you damn idiot. Mark took Dan’s shaft all the way to the base and back and savored the fucker’s poorly-contained frissons of pleasure. To Mark, this shit was a walk in the park. An under-desk blowie before noon? No problem, no drama. Mark pulled the thick 5-incher from his mouth as quietly as he could and lapped at the glistening pink cockhead. He continued scrolling through his socials while he sucked.

Oooh, they’re releasing a new line of Pound! jockstrap. Mark liked the post and continued scrolling, never letting up on his suckling. Dan’s frustration came through in the force applied to the back of Mark’s head. He clearly wanted to fuck face, but was constrained by the civilization of it all.

Pity.

“Never mind about that,” said Dan. “So you wanna join? I’m happy to help you there. I’m Dan. I manage this gym.”

He held out his hand to shake the newcomer’s and Mark tickled his balls as he did. They were high and tight, as per his roiding, and hairier than most of the men here. Gym bros tended to be a vain bunch – body hair was usually a rare delight.

Dan shook the client’s hand with an awkward cadence, like he had some kind of subtle tick. He usually had a good poker face. Men like Dan were used to being sucked off, whether by guys or girls. People always wanted to be on their knees for a football jock, for a bodybuilder.

“Name’s Hudson,” said the client. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too. If you just take one of these application forms, hand it in when you’re done. Then I can give you a tooour!”

Mark twist-jacked his dick with one hand, tickled his balls with the other, and suckled the tip with his mouth. His great cocksucking trifecta. Dan was seconds from busting. Mark could tell.

“Right,” said Hudson. “Sorry about your leg, bro.”

He walked away to a nearby seating area. Dan called after him. “And welcome to Warriors of Sparta. Where we turn mice into-”

He bust his load and it shot into Mark’s hermetically sealed mouth. The ropes blasted against his tongue and throat and Mark gulped it down joyously. His prize.

“-men,” Dan squeaked.


See what Mark’s about here, and read about his adventures here.

Buy his stories here

Gym Slut

The type of classic gym slut shit Mark wears. Only, the shorts are usually a little bit shorter.

He’s either responding to some gushing comments on his FortheFans, or he’s setting up a sesh with one of his fuck buddies. Probably not in Sparta. Mark has built his sexual bunker in the gym, but he’s not so silly as to limit where he finds his boys.

A couple of young bros pass by, and one of them wolf-whistles. Mark checks them out. He lightly taps his ass. “Thanks, man,” he says, fully earnest and easy-going. Mark lives to be objectified by men. The two guys chuckle and head away.

He watches them go, eyes fixed on the pig who whistled. He’s shorter and smaller than Mark – not his typical type – but his body-shape is beautiful; a perfect downward triangle. With his football jersey it’s hard to see, but Mark can tell he’s exactingly lean. Sharp abs, snatched waist. He has a surprising amount of ass for a bro so lean. His black, hi-styled sweatpants sway back and forth as he and his buddy head for the drinks machine.

Mark makes up his mind.

Thirty minutes later, that young man is sitting on one of the gym toilets as Mark slams his pussy up and down on his rock cock. He’s already cum. Twice. But Mark’s not stopping.

He knew he was onto a winner when the guy blew his first load hands free while Mark was giving him a lap dance. Mark knows he’s taking this guy’s gay virginity, his anal virginity, and hell, maybe just his virginity.

Mark doesn’t go easy on him though. Mark wants to spoil this guy for the rest of his life. To fool him into thinking that whores like Mark are a dime a dozen. To make him lie awake at night tossing and turning, dreaming of Mark’s ass. For Mark’s unrelenting, perfectly snatched hole to be the best piece of pussy this kid ever has.

And he achieves that. Mark sucks the third load from him with his ass, pulls up his shorts, and leaves with just one slutty wink. His prey is totaled on the toilet; his dick red raw and painful from Mark’s anal abuse. He’s scrambling to get Mark’s details, but my boi’s already gone.

Always leave ’em wanting more. That’s what a gym slut does best.


See what Mark’s about here, and read about his adventures here.

Buy his stories here

To Indulge Their Femininity

Coach is an extreme androphile. When he’s training his jocks or bulls, he demands all of his boys conform to masculine orthodoxy. However, he recognizes that the men he singles out for his cheerleading track are not like the other boys, and he’s happy for them to indulge their femininity. To a point.

He doesn’t let them dress in pleated skirts, much less bras or make-up or heels. They are, in fact, dressed much like his jocks; jockstraps, baseball caps, sports socks, nothing else. Their full cheer uniform is similar, only with added booty shorts and crop tops. And they’re not pink – maroon and white, with roaring grizzlies on the butt of the pants. All in honor of Coach and his tribe. But here, in the privacy of Coach’s bedroom, he indulges them the feminine lure of pink.

Coach does enjoy seeing his cheerleaders frolicking on the bed; dicks caged, asses ready, titillating, deferential, submissive, and happy to please the men on the Team in whatever way they want. They’re here for support; that is the job of a cheerleader. Whether on the pitch, cheering on his boys to make the winning touchdown, or in the locker room afterwards embarrassing themselves on jock dick while they flaunt their asses in their tiny little cheer shorts, lips pouting and moist, eyes pleading yet innocent, the lust for their masculine older brothers offensively obvious.

Coach is forever conscious of the threat that femininity poses. It’s why he doesn’t let his jocks interact with women, except as sex objects when they’re out of chastity, or in porn. Women can never be friends, lovers or confidants. Too much risk that they will slither into jockboi’s mind and poison it against Coach’s masculine temple. He doesn’t let the cheerbois adopt a fully feminine perspective – even though some, at least, are of that temperament – because he worries about the same thing. That their femininity will somehow reduce the masculinity of his jocks.

He really has nothing to fear. Cheerleaders look with awe and lust at their jock brothers, but the jocks see their little cheerleader brothers as nothing but cute bois to protect, and puffy pussies to fuck. The cheerleaders have no influence, no power. They couldn’t undermine a jock’s masculinity, even if they wanted to. And they most certainly don’t want to! No one is more attracted to the bro-ish machismo of the jocks than the cheerleaders. And Coach knows this, and accepts this, and thus is happy for his bois to indulge their femininity. To a point.

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Fully Jocked

Fully jocked the fuck out. Bro here in his room at the dorm with everything he needs.

His sneakers cleaned and close-by, ready to be slipped on once bro is safe in his strap, and is wearing a sexy pair of shorts (the sluttier the better). Coach needs his boys ready for activity. Gym is a daily grind – 2 hours minimum for any citizen of Jock Nation – but they need to also be ready to play, run, jump, throw and wrestle. Beyond their regulation uniforms when they are training for the Team, the jocks should be dressed like they spend all day outside, playing sports and goofing off. Cause they do. Cause Coach says they do. Coach wants his boys tired and sweaty and strong. They’re like a pack of puppies he’s trying to wear out.

And so his backpack is ready to go for his morning gym sesh – it’s got spare shorts and straps and shoes in it, just in case (a jock will never be comfortable without his uniform), his morning jock juice (a roid-infused concoction of protein), and his gym accoutrements to help him push his limits (back brace, wrists bands etc).

His headphones are there so he can listen to his jock file before he goes to sleep – a jock’s daily conditioning that reminds him what he is, why he is, and who he is for. Coach has all his boys on the same files, feeding them the same propaganda, in order to make them the same. The headphones are also for listening to Coach-approved “jock music” – mainly rock and heavy metal interspersed with the guttural sounds of men fucking. When no music or file is playing, the headphones just release a constant background noise of bro-sounds relayed in perfect bro-voice: “Bruh” “Dood” “Huhuh” “Fuck yeah” “Fuuu~” So joosy dood” “Need to bust bro” “Love that shit”. If jockboi is ever feeling lost or lonely, he can slip those headphones on and be lulled to sleep with the comforting sounds of his brothers.

And of course his cap, cause bro’s so jock he sleeps capped. The cap is everything. It is the symbol of his membership in Coach’s tribe (black cap with a maroon grizzly on the front) and so sets him apart from the normies. But it’s also just the proof that he is jock. It’s fitted on backwards like all good jocks because that’s how good jocks wear their caps. He’s ready to catch a ball, lift a dummie, puff out his lips, stick out his tongue, kiss the bros, and suck Coach’s dick. The jocks have a special sensitivity to when Coach adjusts their caps when they’ve got his huge dick in their mouths.

And his room and bed are perfect jock as well. Nothing fancy or adorned – white sheets for a clean-cut jock. But you know that bed is sticky with cum stains from his constant leaking and wet dreaming. He’s in chastity, so he can’t jack freely, but he’s inconsolably horny and his rich jock balls have no other option but to leak.

The room has a heady, powerful smell. It stinks from the jock sweat, jock cum and jock farts, but it’s also pleasant from the powerful deodorant and cologne the boys wear to smell as masculine as possible. It creates an atmosphere that to the jocks and bulls feels like home, to the cheerleaders feels safe, to the runts feels worshipful and to Coach feels just right.

Bro is fully jocked. This is the where the program leads.

Read the first Jocked novel here!

What it means to be Jocked, and more posts here

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Cheerleaders

Coach’s cheerleaders are chosen, in part, for their extraordinary beauty. Coach then molds them with his hypno-files, his intense workout and diet regime, his stern but loving fathering. All reinforced by the uniforms he dresses them in. The cheerleaders of Jock Nation are the support staff; there to facilitate the lives and grandeur of the jocks and bulls. And since so much of what it means to be a jock or bull – an alpha, in essence – is sex, the cheerleaders must forever be sexual. They must always remind the men what’s at stake.

It’s the Superbowl, and Coach is hosting all his jocks. His cheerleaders are there to serve food and drinks and to generally be delightful. Dressed like androgynous whores, they steal the jocks’ attention. Everyone’s got one eye on the game and one eye on the cheerleaders. Coach’s jocks are all caged. Their cocks are kept locked up to better control them and to maximize their testosterone. So, as horny as they are, and as turned on as they are surrounded by their jock bros, their Coach , the sounds and sights of the football, and the beautiful, teasing, tantalizing cheerbois, they can’t do anything about it. Throughout the night, the jocks get up to bend the cheerboi over and pull aside that scintillating bit of fabric. Just to see the puffy pussy beneath. Maybe touch it, sniff it, lick it. Jocks are all tops without a top’s tool, they want to fuck so bad but can’t.

And that pussy is blown-out. Jocks may be caged, but the bulls most certainly aren’t, and they need constant release. The cheerleaders are their favourite holes, so Coach and his assistants work tirelessly to loosen up the cheerbois in preparation for their epic poundings by the well-endowed bulls. Those pussy lips are pink and puffy, loose and welcoming. Coach himself has spent many evenings helping to pound open those beautiful boys, as they look up at him with their pleading eyes and scream “Fuck me, Daddy!”

Whenever a jock absent-mindedly starts playing with one of the cheerleaders, Coach smiles. He may have locked away their cocks, and he may fuck a different jock every night, but it’s essential to Coach that the jocks hold themselves like tops. That they have a top’s focus. His jocks should wanna get their dicks wet 24/7; they should be obsessed with pussy. Keeping these beautiful cheerleaders around, teasing his boys to no end, is just one way to help keep that focus in his jocks.


Read the first Jocked novel here!

What it means to be Jocked, and more posts here.

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Sleepover

On a rotating schedule, Coach brings one of his jocks home for a sleepover. Tonight, it’s Zach’s privilege. Zach was a priss in band before Joe – one of Coach’s stars – saw the spark of potential in him and brought him into Coach’s fold. After a year of hard training and relentless jockification through the hypno-files, Zach shed the prissy demeanor and succumbed to masculine orthodoxy and groupthink.

Zach took to the uniform better than most. While Coach expects his boys to wear their team jockstraps in his colors – maroon pouch, white bands – when on the field, in the locker room, or at the gym, elsewise he’s happy for them to wear different cuts and colors of underwear, so long as they turn the big man on. And these all certainly do. Zach asked Coach if he could show off all his new looks he’d bought since the last time he got to sleepover, and Coach happily obliged. He wants his jockbois to be happy, it turns him on, and it also gives him another opportunity to assess his jock’s gains. Zach, being a younger jock in his tribe, still needed a bit more active guidance from Coach than, say, Joe. And that guidance came primarily in the form of Coach’s penetrating gaze and firm touch.

Zach’s particular focus on his outfits is not totally in line with jock groupthink. Yes, Coach wants his boys to look good and to be invested in their own masculine beauty, which includes dressing in such way to keep his fellow jock turned on, he doesn’t want his boys prissy. But Coach Schmidt allows his boys a little space for personal expression, for freedom. Zach was a priss before he joined the program; it makes sense that some of that prissy sensibility would continue to shine through, even after the relentless onslaught of the jockification process. He wanted to match baseball cap with sexy underwear. Coach had no problems with this. All that mattered was that he wanted to wear the underwear and a baseball cap – both essential items of clothing for any jock. Coach didn’t mandate that jocks shave their holes, but if Zach wanted to, that was fine, too. There’s no bad option, so long as the jock is fit, strong, manly and beautiful.

The sleepover is not just an opportunity for Coach to slam that jock bussy into submission, though he will do that because that’s what alphas do. It’s really an opportunity for a jock and his Coach to bond on a deeper, intimate level; away from the competing interests of the other jocks, cheerbois and bulls. It’s just a jock and his coach, alone and vulnerable. Coach will do to Zach’s mind what he will do to his bussy; penetrate it, tame it, soothe it.


Read the first Jocked novel here!

What it means to be Jocked, and more posts here.

Check out my Tumblr and Twitter.

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