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Quarterback Keeper, Part 20
C. Charlie - cosmic709@yahoo.com
cceroticstories.blogspot.com
charliessmut.tumblr.com
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It was finally spring, and Tom, Nick, Chris, and Austin, were once again spending their free afternoons at the park next to the river. They’d been coming there ever since they were kids, and as they talked about the end of their senior year and college, nostalgia hung in the air.
Austin was laying on top of the picnic table with his shirt off when Nick and Tom pulled up. Tom tossed his keys onto the dash and hopped out of the cab.
“What’s up?” Tom asked.
“Nothing,” Chris said, “Just talking about the end of the year. We’re all going to graduate soon.”
“We’re moving on.” Tom said.
Austin sat up. “We’ve been coming here for like forever. Since we were 12 or 13. I think that’s when we started calling ourselves the Pack.”
Chris said, “I miss being the Pack. It made me feel exclusive. Now we’re just a bunch of guys.” As Chris stood up, Nick noticed his muscles. He was wearing a tank for the first time that spring. After a long winter of lifting, he had added at least an inch to his arms and shoulders.
“You look jacked, dude.” Nick said as he grabbed Chris's arm.
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Click on the 'My Stories' tab for a complete list of my dirty stories. You can follow me on twitter: @CharliesStories
Wednesday, April 13, 2016
Sunday, April 3, 2016
The Crew, Part 4
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The
Crew, Part 4
C.
Charlie - cosmic709@yahoo.com
cceroticstories.blogspot.com
charliessmut.tumblr.com
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I
had just finished working out and was standing at my locker. The gym
was one of the 'perks' of working at Smith's farm. Smith walked up to
me, acting like nothing had happened. Literally an hour ago, the guy
had forced me to give another guy head. He didn't put a gun to my
head, but he would have if I had resisted. Now, he had the nerve to
saunter up to me, with the .38 still tucked into his belt, and
pretend like everything was cool.
I
didn't look at him. Before this had happened, I could barely stand
the guy. Everything about him was sleazy. The way he dressed, the way
he combed his hair, the way he relied on a gun to keep control
because he was unable to handle himself. It annoyed me before. Now it
took every ounce of self-control I had not to punch the guy. My
muscles bulged as I held myself back.
"You're
going out tonight," he said.
"Out?"
I asked without looking at him.
"Out
call." Smith said. "The guy wants you to come to his
house."
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