They are called the Black Knights.
They’re a team of twenty some-odd football players. One of the best in the region, and one of the more famous college teams in the state. I know them only by word and rumor, but you get to see them during the season, practicing their plays on the field, their black and white striped jerseys marking who they are.
During the matches, they’re fantastic, or so the newspapers say. So-and-so sacking the opposing player, that player punting, another running so many yards down for the touchdown. Blah, blah, blah. I don’t follow the sport myself, so it is always weird to find so many people following them. That is what fanaticism does to people, I say.
However, I have a few of the guys alongside me in my classes, and I have to say they are extremely hot. All of them are huge – plenty of huge muscles and thick bulk stretching their black UnderArmor shirts and tights to the utmost. And they’re tall. The smallest must be six feet, maybe six two. I never get the chance to talk to them. As I said, I’m not a fan of the team, but damn it, I fantasize about them flexing and making me worship them like crazy.
Recently, however, I got the chance to talk to a player, this stern-looking guy by the name of Travis. Or ‘Trav’ as he told me to call him. Easily six feet tall and three-hundred pounds of rock-hard beef. A thick shock of black hair cut into a Mohawk and a heavy 5 o’clock shadow. But that doesn’t hide the cute chin dimple he has or that amazing smile. And his voice, good grief. Heavy and deep. A wet dream come true.
Anyway, we talked about things, or I should say, he did. He discussed about weightlifting, rambled about football, and bragged about sex. He was a monster all the way, he said, flexing a heavy arm and then grabbing his equally heavy bulge. After he got on the team, he said, it was all he could think of. Lifting, fucking, and football. The Big Three, he chuckled, c ouldn’t get enough of them.
After we separated, I had to get to a restroom stall to jerk off a few times, imagining him in the bed, rutting like the beast he claimed or, better yet, him in front of a mirror, stroking that heavy cock that he must have and worshipping his amazing muscles. When I got out, I noticed another player washing his hands. He was a rich chocolate brown and thick everywhere with a giant shelf of an ass. He glanced at me through the mirror, and as he reached over to get the paper towels, he bounced his chest a bit. He smirked a bit before he left, leaving me to see that rump in motion. I had to get back to stall for another session.
A few weeks after that amazing episode, I got into another meet-up with Trav. I was polishing up my notes from another class when a gym bag landed on the desk with a clatter. I looked up to find the stud and that killer smile.
“Hey, dude,” he said. He always call guys ‘dude’. Or ‘bro’. “What’s shaking?”
I tried to move the bag and succeeded barely, falling to the floor with a louder clatter. That was one heavy bag! “I’m finishing up my notes, as you can see.” I motioned to the notes.
He snorted. “Fuck that noise, bro. Wanna join me for practice?”
“Yeah, bro.” He leaned closer. “We’re looking for recruits, and you seem like a good player.” He grinned. “Nice and toned.”
I cleared my throat. “I don’t play. I don’t even follow the game.”
He drew back in surprise. “The fuck, dude?”
“Yeah. Sorry, but you have to find someone else.”
“Hey dude!” a thick bass voice cried out.
The two of us turned to find another guy in the trademark black and white lycra. He was a huge muscle bear – Muscles and hair erupted everywhere you looked, and he sported a long beard and a bald head polished to a shine.
“Dude!” Trav said. He waved a hand to me. “Trying to get a recruit.”
“One that does not want to go,” I said as the other guy strutted to us. Damn, he was hot! And that bulge looked amazingly huge. I wrested my stare up to his face and moved my hand to the paperwork in front of me. “I have notes to do.”
He snorted. “Fuck that,” he said, just as dismissively as Trav. “Football’s the only thing you need, bro. That, and lifting.” He palmed a thick pec for a moment. “You can’t get huge from writing notes.” He grinned, but it melted into a worried frown. His hand dipped down to fondle his bulge. “Damn, I suddenly wanna fuck.”
The way he said it so casually caused my cock to go rock-hard instantly.
“Yeah, dude,” Trav said, patting the guy’s shoulder. “I know how you feel. You’ll get used to it.”
Get used to it? I tried to control my skyrocketing libido and tried to act casual. “Uhm, how long have you been on the team?”
“Me?” the bald guy said. His forehead creased as he thought. “Must have been…er…a few months back…?”
“And you’ve always been that big?”
“Erm…” His eyes went blank for a moment, but then his brow cleared and he smiled. “Fuck that. All that thinking is making me wanna tackle some guys on the field. Wanna join us?” He didn’t stop rubbing his bulge, though.
“Come on, dude,” Trav said, almost pleading.
The 180 the guy gave was puzzling. What was going on? “Sorry, guys, but—“
Trav gave an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, sure, notes,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Whatever, dude.” He picked up the bag and slung it over his shoulder, and he turned to the other guy. “Let’s go, bro.”
“He’s not coming?” the other said as they walked out of earshot. I couldn’t hear Trav’s response.
I adjusted my softening cock into a more comfortable position, and I was about to continue to finish the notes when I noticed the guys left something behind.
I picked it up from the floor. It was a silver fob chain necklace with a small, featureless medallion of solid black, and it reeked of a peculiar mass. Maybe it was steel instead of silver, I thought to myself, weighing the object in my hand.
“Still, I have to return it to the owner,” I said to myself, sighing. I really didn’t want to go, but I was sure that Trav would be wondering where it went. After making a few quick notations in the notebook, I packed up my things and went in the general direction of the field.