The Football Team Goes Down

"Yesss... fuck me... fuck my ass..."

Matt was in a daze, on his elbows and knees, a Jamaican cock thrusting in and out as a piston run wild.

Even as my own consciousness was drifting into a dreamscape, I could discern the difference in tone from the ones fucking and those getting fucked. The deep grunts and moans were coming from the Jamaicans, while my team mates were all crying in a high pitch. They were - we were - starting to sound like young girls. The noises emanating from us were not the grunts of men, they were the squeals of bitches delightfully and brutally fucked senseless.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!"

"Fuck me, fuck me, FUCK ME!"

"PUMP YOUR SEED INTO ME, DO IT PLEEEEASE!"

As I was watching Matt lying on his back, his arms spread over his head, his eyes glazed while his stallion was pounding his ass, his body started convulsing. He was cumming. Cumming without even touching his dick!

"Aarrgh... ahhh... I...am... cuming... OOOOOOHHHHH!"

Ropes of white cum started gushing from his dick, while the brutal pounding continued.

We rotated to the next room, and the same scene repeated itself. Coach Adams, now self-impaled on the young cock underneath his bulky body, was shouting in ecstasy as his cock started spewing out his white sperm.

By now our platform was rotating like a carousel. In brief glimpses I saw one body after the other twisting and bucking, sweaty torsos heaving, head thrown backwards, eyes closed in pure bliss. Damon... and Francis... and Tom... it was like a synchronized dance, athletic white bodies, fucked in every position imaginable, climaxing from the sheer fucking they were receiving. Not one of them were touching their own dicks, not one of them were cumming from fucking a piece of ass. No, they were all coming from the sheer sensation of being sodomized by black Jamaicans they didn't even know before this evening. As the last of my team mates, Matt, started bucking from his orgasm, I could feel my own advancing.

"Oh... Akoni... I think I am cumming..." I whimpered to the muscled conqueror behind me.

"Yeah, baby... cum for me... cum as I will be filling your pussy with my juices..."

Through half-closed eyes I saw the slumped bodies of my team mates. Some were on their backs, others on their stomachs, or lying sideways. As their conquerors pulled their cocks out of the defeated football players, and slowly started getting dressed and leaving the rooms, the football players didn't move. Totally exhausted, totally dominated, totally fucked. Ragdolls their owners were done tossing around, with cum trickling out of ruby red and abused butt cheeks.

And I came. I came stronger than I had ever come in my life. I exploded. I felt how my cock pumped out rope after rope, until there were only droplets left. And still I came.

And then Akoni started coming. With sudden, unrhythmic, thrashing motions, he started pushing his cum into my ass. God, was this how it felt? I could literally feel his spunk splashing into my guts. Was this how it felt to have the juices of a real man fill up my ass? Had I been a girl, I would have been impregnated there and then.

As Akoni slowly pulled out of my gaping hole, and as I felt his sperm dripping down along my leg, I must have passed out. Because that was my last memory before waking up.

The next morning a meek group of athletes assembled for the bus. Eye contact was avoided, and hardly a word was uttered. Some of the boys still had caked cum in their hair. They either didn't know, or didn't care. If you start an evening believing you are sent by God to fuck the women of the planet, and end the night with a black cock in your ass while cumming uncontrollably, there isn't much to do or say.

The same bartender as the night before was polishing the glasses with a cloth. His smirk from the night before remained the same.

But suddenly a voice uttered in astonishment:

"Hey, is that our jersey?"

Derreck was pointing towards the wall behind the bar, where the shirts of previous visiting teams were displayed.

And sure enough, there was the shirt of our team. And not any shirt. The shirt was mine, with SOPHIE printed all over the back.

My team mates looked at me as if it was the first time they actually saw me.

The player with the greatest stamina, the one who lasted the longest.

I was the one.