15. Jack

I open my small closet and look over my new wardrobe. Coach didn"t just buy me a new suit. There are two full suits, a vest, two pairs of slacks, five button-down shirts, six ties, and several collared shirts that are meant to be "casual."

First of all, none of this is me. Second of all, I"m starting to feel like some kind of secret whore. I"m okay with him telling me what to eat and how to workout, but controlling what I"m wearing off the field? I'm certain this must be a test. I just haven"t decided how I"m going to take on the challenge.

For today, though, at the fancy donor brunch, I"ll wear the light grey suit, white shirt, and dark green tie that he has instructed me to wear. I also, with his permission, went into town and got a haircut yesterday. Normally I just buzz my head myself, but this time I did something a little different, and it's more stylish than I"m used to. The sides are cut short and faded, but I had them keep the top long so Coach can have something to grip onto.

I don't know who I am anymore.

It"s been a little strange between us the past week. After the hot make-out session in his office that led to me lying spread eagle on his desk and almost begging for a dick in my ass, he seems to be pulling away from me. He"s still rewarding me, feeding me his cock on an almost daily basis, and when I"m really good, he does that thing with his fingers that blows my fucking mind.

But he hasn"t tried to kiss me again, and I haven"t tried either. I"m a little intimidated by the fact that I want him to kiss me. Hell, I might even want his mouth on my lips more than I want it on my dick. Well, almost.

The walk to the sports complex is hot, and I"m glad it"s going to be an indoor event. I feel like I"m about to sweat through this suit and look like a slob, despite all of my efforts to look presentable.

We"re supposed to meet in the locker room and walk into the cafeteria together, which has been decorated to look like a fancy restaurant. There was a whole interior design team here all day yesterday, and we couldn"t use the field because they redid all the lines so it would look shiny and new. Luckily for us, that meant a half day of practice and our first chance for some time off since July 4th.

Unfortunately for me, it meant an afternoon of assessments with my new tutor. She"s nice enough and is apparently a teaching assistant for someone in the English department. I"m strangely not distracted by her tits, but I wondered fleetingly if Coach knew who he was setting me up with for tutoring. Not that every girl wants to jump my dick, but I do have a tendency to weasel my way into a lot of girl"s panties.

Or at least I did. Fuck, it"s been a month and a half since I fucked around with those girls at the party. I"m not sure I"ve gone this long without a piece of ass since I hit puberty and started playing football.

I suppose I am still getting some action, just a different kind.

My eyes follow a few of the cheerleaders and dates that came here with the other players. I definitely still appreciate a tight ass and a pair of tits. I"ve never looked at a dude and thought, damn, I want a piece of that. That is, until that day I walked in on Coach working out. Although, I suppose I refused to acknowledge any sort of real sexual attraction before the day he came on my face and left me on the floor of that supply closet.

Since then, he"s all I think about. I eat, breathe, and dream Bryant Nicks on an almost obsessive level.

Surely it"s just the dynamic, right? He"s figured out that I"m motivated by orgasms, and he"s obsessed with making me the best.

But if that"s true, why do I crave the taste of him, or the look in his eyes when I"m swallowing his cock whole?

Groan.

I need to redirect my thoughts. Buttoning my suit jacket, I walk into the locker room where the other players are waiting for all the guests to be seated. Nicks warned me yesterday that we"re essentially going to be paraded around like prized pigs, and since I"m a scholarship student, they"ll be especially interested in checking me out. He made it sound like they could get really intrusive with their questions, and it irks me to no end that a bunch of rich assholes think they own me because I play for this team. They"re the ones that need me to win this thing.

"Get used to it," Coach told me while we were resting in the sauna, after he"d bent me over the bench and rubbed his cock between my ass cheeks until he came all over my back. "When you"re in the NFL, the sponsors do own you. I had more than one rich sponsor"s wife cop a feel and proposition me, thinking they were owed a performance other than what they got on the field."

"None of the husbands?" I asked before I could stop myself.

He wasn"t mad though, he just chuckled. "No one"s ever been brave enough to try, and there wasn"t any interest on my part before," he"d told me, answering my unspoken question.

"So you don"t normally…" I trailed off, not sure how to word my question.

"Don"t normally dick my players into submission? No," he said, shaking his head. "This is a, uh… new development. Very new, for me."

"For me too," I admitted, and we fell into somewhat of an awkward silence until I was feeling overheated and left for the showers. Nicks didn"t join me, and he was gone by the time I emerged.

I think the kiss was too much. Somehow, just wanting to get each other off feels a lot less intimate—and a lot less gay—than kissing him did.

Coach's eyes follow me into the room. I can feel them boring into the back of my head, watching me greet and shake my teammates" hands.

"Looking sharp, Perry," the running back, Grant, says. "You clean up nice."

I"m sure the compliment is underhanded, Grant is kind of a douchebag and seems to think my presence on the team takes away from his position. But instead of taking his bait, I turn it around on him.

"Not so bad yourself, Gipson."

Only then do I turn around and face front, where Nicks and the rest of the coaching staff are mulling about. As soon as I make eye contact, he looks away, and I know it"s immature, but it bothers me.

I don"t have time to mull over it, though, because the coaches are having us walk out single file, in order of starting players. Since I"m firmly on the first string, I"m one of the first players to enter the room, maybe five people behind Lane Masters, who of course leads the charge as quarterback, with Grant Gipson right behind him.

There is a polite round of applause, and we file along the stage that"s been erected on one side of the cafeteria. The rest of the players stand around their tables until everyone is in, and then we"re allowed to sit. I"d much rather be at a table than up on this stage, being gawked at.

Coach Nicks introduces himself, which he doesn"t need to do, seeing as the polite applause became almost raucous when he entered the room behind the team. He"s hot shit around here, leading this team to success despite its embarrassing history of failure. Not everyone likes him as a person, but everyone respects him and the title they know he"s capable of bringing home for Groveton College. After introducing himself and discussing some of the training we"ve been going through over the summer, he introduces the full starting line, beginning with Lane Masters. Each of the players on stage has family in attendance, and Nicks asks them to stand up while he discusses the many qualities that make each player a "fine sportsman".

I don"t hear any of it. He goes through the full offensive and defensive lines before he comes back to me, and I nearly miss my opportunity to show my teeth and wave when he starts talking about the final addition to his all-star starting lineup. Nicks gestures for me to stand, and I try not to wonder if anyone will notice I don"t have friends, family, or even a date here to support me.

"Now, most of y"all aren"t going to know this young man. He"s here all the way from Alabama, where Tucker Sanders and I pulled him out from under the Crimson Tide"s nose before they could get their paws on him. He"s got better stats than more seasoned players, runs faster than lightning, and I"m pretty sure the refs are going to want to check his hands for magnets, because he doesn"t miss a thing." The crowd chuckles, beaming up at me like I"m something special. "Jack Perry is a good kid, and he"s the player that is going to make our offensive line impossible to beat. I can guarantee you we"ll have more points on that board than you"ve seen in years."

"Since you were on the field!" some ass kisser yells, and the room goes wild—the players whooping, guests standing to applaud.

Coach has us all stand up so we can snap a few pictures, and then releases us to sit down at the tables when the meal is served. It's a never-ending trail of mini courses that are based on real food, from tiny waffles topped with a few berries and swipes of sauce across a plate that is far larger than the food, to finger sandwiches that take less than two bites to eat.

It all tastes alright, but I"m not sure I understand why it"s all miniature. I find myself craving Coach"s sometimes bland, but filling, meals, and wish I"d had more than my double protein shake this morning. I try drinking a lot of water to make up for the lack of food. The last thing I need is to come off uncouth because my stomach growls, but then, of course, it isn"t long before my bladder is screaming at me.

I excuse myself to the restrooms, and on the way back, bump into…

"Aniyah," she reminds me.

"Right. Sorry," I say, wincing. I do actually feel a little bad about using her and her friend the way I did, even if the friend obviously didn"t mind. Once I was sober again, I realized I might have been a little rough on Aniyah.

Not as rough as Coach was on you.

Aniyah seems to take my brief moment of reflection as interest, because she moves closer, brushing her hand over my shoulder.

"You can really tell how strong you are, even through your suit," she purrs, leaning in a little too close for comfort. I"m not actually interested, but I wonder if I"m going to need to start acting like I am, in the event someone catches on to how little interest I have.

I smile at her, although it might be a bit tight. "You"re looking beautiful as ever," I say, as if I"ve ever noticed her aside from the day she and her bestie licked my cock together. She preens.

She honestly is gorgeous. Honey highlights peek through her thick brunette hair and amber brown eyes look up at me beneath thick eyelashes, and her pink lips are parted coyly. Her body is slim and fit, with a nice curve to her ass and tits that make her trim waist look even smaller. She"s wearing a pretty yellow wrap dress that makes her skin glow, and impossibly high, pointy heels.

But when I look closer, I can see that her tan is fake, slightly too orange. Her eyelashes are almost comically long and also obviously fake. And her makeup is so caked on, you can"t see the girl underneath. Her bra is definitely padded—I don"t remember her tits being as big as her friend"s.

She"s trying too hard, and it reeks of desperation. Still, she"s interested and I might need a cover. Plus, it"s been a long time since I sank my dick into a warm body. Like it knows what direction my thoughts are headed, my cock gives a small twitch, which does not go unnoticed by… Anya?

Fuck.If I"m going to make this work, I"m going to have to remember her name.

She lifts up on her tiptoes to whisper in my ear. "I think he remembers me."

"How could he forget?" My dick really starts to take notice when I think about all the ways I can torture Coach with this. What will I have to do to earn permission to fuck a pretend girlfriend?

Her hand slowly moves down the front of my body, tracing the outline of my half-hard cock. "Do you want to get out of here?" she asks.

I clear my throat. "I have to get back to the donor brunch, but maybe some other time?"

Too many long hours later, all the guests have left and I"m finally free of rich, old people that live in a cloud of cloying perfume asking me questions about my height and weight—like I am indeed a prized pig. Nicks wasn"t kidding.

Speaking of Nicks, I don"t know where he"s gotten off to. He glowered at me when I returned from the restroom with Aniyah, whose name I am determined to remember. One of the guys at my table corrected me and made a joke that she wouldn"t mind if I called her the wrong name as long as she"s being stuffed full of cock. Apparently, she"s dated a few of the guys on the team. I don"t give a fuck, and I"m not about to slut shame anyone, especially considering I"ve been a bigger slut than most. Before moving here, at least.

I take my time getting ready to leave, visiting the restroom again before I finally give up on waiting for him. I shoot him a quick text before I go, though:

JP: Didn"t see you anywhere, and you didn"t say otherwise, so I"m heading out.

The message comes up as read, but there are no little telltale dots to tell me he"s going to respond. Shrugging, because I"m not going to sit here and wait like the puppy he thinks I am, I head out into the late afternoon. It"s too swelteringly hot to be outside, and a big storm is brewing. My lips quirk, thinking about Coach"s shoulder.

JP: Storm coming in. How"s that shoulder, old man?

The three tiny dots that say he's responding flash, then disappear twice before his response comes through.

BN: You can"t fuck her.

My steps falter as I do a double take.

JP: It"s like that, is it?

BN: My game. My rules.

JP: Jealous?

I know I"m baiting him. But he makes it too easy.

The little dots that tell me he"s typing start and stop three times before I make it to my room. I pull off the stuffy clothes and put them back on hangers, grabbing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt while I wait for him to decide what to say next. My dick thinks Nicks might be flustered, and we both like that very much.

BN: You can"t afford any distractions.

Oh, so that"s how he"s going to spin this. I think for a moment before sitting back on my small bed, angling the phone just right. I don"t give myself more than a second to rethink my actions before I push send on the picture of my hard cock.

JP: This is a distraction.

The dots appear and disappear again before the phone rings, a video call from Bryant Nicks coming through. I answer, expecting him to lay into me about sending shit like that through text again, and then promising me torture on the field tomorrow. Or he might make me do pushups with him on the phone. He"s done it before, but not with video.

What I don"t expect is a closeup of Nicks" hard cock, his hand stroking the length in a punishing rhythm.

"Fuck," I murmur, my hand squeezing my cock.

"Come on, Jack. We can take care of this distraction together."

That sounds like permission to me. We spend the next five minutes beating our cocks like we"re both racing to the same desperate finish. Despite him clearly starting first, I win. And my prize is being aware enough to watch the thick vein on the underside of Nicks" cock throb and pulse as he coats his hand and lower stomach in cum.

He hangs up without another word, and once again, I"m left reeling.

Aniyah might have a great set of tits and a willing mouth, but she doesn"t hold a candle to the man that has taken ownership of my mind and body in the past few months.