“Coach, can you give us the pep talk inside the room? I’m freezing my ass off out here,” I grumbled. The February night was dark and cold, and we had been in the car for a long time getting here, every mile marked with another cruddy selection from Coach’s collection of the world’s most annoying music. We were standing outside the motel room, holding our gym bags and watching Coach’s breath puffing in the frigid air as he gave us last minute instructions before bed.
He jabbed a stubby finger in my face, barking, “Focus on making weight tomorrow, Williams, and quit acting like a girl. You won’t die from a little cold.” I slouched against the door of the motel room and waited for his lecture to wind down so we could go inside.
We had come to the city for the State High School Wrestling Championships that started the next day. Three of us from Holy Redeemer Prep had made it out of the regionals. McCormick, my best friend on the team, had looked like a lock to advance in the heavyweight division until he lost his footing and let some hack I’d never heard of pin him— one-two-three, he was done. The other two wrestlers, both seniors like me, were listening to Coach’s droning with rapt interest.
“What a pair of losers,” I smirked to myself. McCormick always called them the Hayseed Brothers because they lived on farms north of town and even though they weren’t related, had similar looks, short, dark hair, ice-blue eyes, high cheek bones. Wilder competed at 185 pounds and O’Connor at 171, so they had the same wide, muscular build, too. I usually checked in at a lanky 157, but when we left home, I was still two pounds over and was facing disqualification at the weigh-in the next day, adding to my foul mood.
Coach was talking to me again, but the only words that swam through my hunger were, “You understand me, Williams?”
“Sure thing, Coach,” I muttered.
“Okay then. Don’t eat or drink anything tonight and you’ll be fine. Go to sleep early and it’ll keep you from being too hungry,” he added as he handed the key to the motel room to Wilder. The three of us would be sharing this room while the coach and his wife were next door. Inside the room, I dropped by bag on the floor and eyed the two double beds.
“Let’s flip a coin to see who sleeps in the single,” I suggested.
I couldn’t be sure, but I would swear that some weird look passed between the two before O’Connor said as he shrugged his letterman’s jacket off his broad shoulders, “You take it, dude, as long as we can leave the light on the bathroom.”
“The light? Why?”
Wilder looked a little sheepish as he explained, “Neither one of us likes to sleep in the dark.”
“What the fuck ever,” I snickered. Wait until I saw McCormick and added this shit to the legend of the Hayseed Brothers.
After brushing my teeth at the sink in the corner of the room, I kicked off my sneakers and peeled off my jeans, crawling into bed wearing my boxers and a hoody in our school colors of scarlet, silver and white. Fretting over the two pounds I was over, with the gnawing hunger in my gut that was my familiar companion during the wrestling season, I rolled over with my back to O’Connor and Wilder and fired up my I-Pod. Only a couple of songs later, I fell asleep and dreamed of double cheeseburgers.
Sometime later, I woke up tangled in the sheets. The motel room was dark except the light coming from the bathroom though the propped-open door. As I drowsily drifted between sleep and consciousness, I became aware of an almost imperceptible rustle. Half awake, I puzzled until I identified the sound– thinking the rest of us were sleeping, one of the Hayseed Brothers was jerking off.
I couldn’t wait to share this with McCormick. As quietly as I could, I rolled over to get a better look so I could see which one of them was such a horny dog, but I guess that I was too noisy— the sound stopped suddenly. Both O’Connor and Wilder were on their sides, facing me, the light full on their faces. Eyes closed, they both looked like they were sleeping, but the calm seemed to be deliberate, not natural. O’Connor was closest to me, and I could see his bare torso and shoulders above the edge of the bedspread. He had the long, loose muscles of a wrestler, and his skin was smooth except for a tuft of dark hair in the valley between his pecs.
A few still moments passed, broken only by the low rumble of traffic on the nearby highway. Quietly, the blanket over O’Connor’s groin began slowly and rhythmically moving.
“So now we know which one is the freak,” I thought as I watched, fascinated. O’Connor’s eyes were still closed, but his lips were slightly parted as his breath became more ragged. Unable to look away, I watched the blanket’s slow, steady motion. I grew confused as I realized something was odd— I could see both of O’Connor’s hands, one on his chest and the other behind his head.
Disgusted, I knew suddenly that Wilder was jerking O’Connor off under the sheets. I nearly yelled at them to knock that crap off when I felt my own raging hard-on shoving into my gut. I had fooled around with other kids years ago, but I never thought that I would watch a couple of perverts getting it on and find it hot. My dick was straining against my shorts, begging to be released, but I was kinda enjoying the horny pain of it, to tell the truth.
O’Connor shifted his hips a little into his buddy’s vigorously rubbing hand, and the bedspread fell away from his leg. His black nylon briefs were shoved down to mid-thigh. The blanket, still covering his crotch, was moving faster now, his back arched a little. Both of the wrestlers’ eyes were closed, their faces tense under the feigned sleep.
Hardly missing a beat, Wilder’s hand flicked away the blanket and sheet, exposing O’Connor’s long, thick cock. His balls looked as big as lemons as they bounced with each stroke of Wilder’s hand. My dick swelled and jumped as I saw that O’Connor’s crotch was shaved smooth and hairless. Wilder pumped his buddy’s hard meat faster and harder, pulling O’Connor’s ample foreskin over the head and back. They made almost no sound but a barely audible slap of flesh on flesh and the faintest increase in raspy breathing. The tight Lycra singlets we wore to compete in don’t hide much and I had seen him in the showers and the locker room a thousand times, but I never suspected that O’Connor’s hard dick was so large.
Engrossed by the spectacle, I could feel my dick leaking pre-cum onto my boxers and hoody. I was so horny watching them that I even forgot that I hadn’t eaten in almost twenty hours. It was all I could do to keep from diving across the space that separated the beds and yanking back the covers so I could see better. What does Wilder’s dick look like, I wondered? Is he stroking himself, too? I tensed up watching, the throb in my groin growing more painful.
After what seemed like twenty minutes of Wilder’s patient, steady stroking, O’Connor’s muscles flexed and with a low groaned, “Fuck!” spurts of cum bloomed on his chest and abs. For a moment, I watched as Wilder’s hand gently massaged the flushed skin of his buddy’s thigh, and then my gaze raked up O’Connor’s naked muscular body. I froze when I saw that their eyes were open, their blue eyes intensely locked on mine. A long, tense stillness filled the room.
“Did you enjoy the show?” O’Connor asked me in a low, husky voice.
I shrugged and made some strangled sound.
Wilder propped his chin on O’Connor’s shoulder to get a better look at me. “You wanna join us?” he asked.
In spite of the excitement I felt watching them, I felt panic rising in me at his suggestion and couldn’t answer.
“Before you say no,” O’Connor grinned, “You probably need to know that since we started messing around like this, neither one of us has lost a single match. Not one.” Everyone in town had been taking for weeks about the winning streak.
Wilder draped his arm around O’Connor and dangled his hand teasingly over his buddy’s cock and balls. “So it’s not really like sex or anything. More like a good luck ritual.” He had me hooked with that. Wrestlers are notoriously superstitious, and I was going to need all the help I could get at State.
“I don’t know,” I choked out. “ I have a girlfriend. You both have girlfriends.”
Wilder replied with mock seriousness, “You can’t choose pussy before the good of the team, Williams.” They both dissolved in a spasm of giggles and high fives before returning their attention to me. Watching me intently, O’Connor lifted the bedclothes in an invitation to me, uncovering both of them. My gaze flicked down Wilder’s meaty solid frame to his dick, longer than O’Connor’s, but not as thick, his pubes trimmed close but not shaved.
“Fuck it!” I said, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. “I have to do for the team right?” With a whoop, I scrambled under the covers with them as Wilder pulled off my hoody and O’Connor tugged at my boxers.
Free of my underwear, my dick slapped hard against me abs.
“Someone’s ready to play, “ O’Connor teased as he reached to grab my balls. Wilder pushed his hand away, warning. “Careful! You’ll scare him!” He wrapped his hand around the shaft of my cock, and as he gently squeezed me, I nearly came right there.
“You guys looked hot together, “ I admitted. “Oh, wow! That feels good.” I don’t know how O’Connor stayed so still under Wilder’s expert hands.
“You just gonna watch or are you joining in the fun?” Wilder asked O’Connor. I stared in surprise as O’Connor leaned over to bury his face in our team mate’s crotch, slurping his tongue all over Wilder’s cock.
“Oh, yeah, bro. You know I like that kind of action, “ Wilder moaned as he continued pumping his spit-slicked fist over my dick. He saw my eyes fixed on O’Connor’s noisy licking and asked, “You want a little of that, too, huh?”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “I guess.”
He immediately dropped his head into my lap and took me in one gulp into his hot, wet mouth. Pleasure shuddered through my body and I pressed my shoulders into the bed. My hands plucked at the sheets as the best feeling ever washed over my body. O’Connor reached over to grab my hand and guide it to his cock. As soon as I touched his hot hardness, I jerked away as if burned, but he again pulled me back to his crotch. I tentatively massaged his shaft and kneaded his balls, rolling them in their hairless sac between my fingers.
Wilder pulled his mouth off of me to ask, “You doing okay, Williams? Not too freaked out?”
I moaned and grabbed his head to push him back down on me. His low, throaty chuckle reverberated through my groin. Just as I thought I couldn’t feel any better, O’Connor reached over to pinch my nipple, sending a jolt through me. Wilder’s lips and tongue had a heat that was almost solid and three-dimensional. No girl had ever given me a blowjob as skillful or with so much enthusiasm. It felt so good that I sometimes forgot about jacking O’Connor off, and he would wrap one of his hands around mine to get the motion going again or adjust the speed to his liking. I was just rocking along on that hot mouth as happy as I could be.
Wilder pulled his mouth off me again and just massaged my shaft a little. His eyes were closed and his skin flushed and he moaned softly and pulled out of O’Connor’s mouth. O’Connor grabbed Wilder’s cock with both hands and stroked him hard a few times until his buddy spewed thick ropes of cum all over the place.
I must have had a confused look on my face, because O’Connor grinned at me, “Who knows if there aren’t enough calories in a load that you can’t make weight if you swallow?”
Makes sense to me.
Wilder recovered enough that he stroked me a few more times, just enough to push me over the edge, and I sprayed about half the motel room with my hot spunk.
We all lay back on the bed, panting in a tangle of arms and legs. After a bit, someone was rubbing my back with long, slow strokes. I massaged someone’s biceps.
I felt drowsy and contented. I stretched and yawned, turning to see Wilder grinning at me.
“What?” I asked sleepily.
“State takes place over five days, right?” he asked.
“Dude, I’ve watched you wrestle all season,” he teased. “You’re gonna need a lot of good luck rituals to make the finals.”
I grinned back. “Anything for the team.”