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Soccer practice had just ended. My teammates quickly changed and left the field. Soon, only Mike and I remained on the bleachers. We had both purposefully taken a long time to change, waiting for the others to leave. We didn't want any of our friends to see us go up into the woods. To have sex.
That was the plan, anyway. But we didn't make it to the woods, at least not at first. I looked at Mike sitting on the bench just above me, and I had to have him. I turned around and grabbed his muscular thigh through his worn Levi's. I climbed up to his level, pushing him back to rest against the bleacher behind him. Mike said, in his sexy, gravelly voice, "Conor, you're so hot." And hot I was. My cock was snaking down my thigh, clearly visible through my jeans.
It was getting dark, but it was light enough so that someone on our team, returning for a forgotten water bottle, would easily discover us. Instead of scaring us, that chance excited us.
By now our tongues had met, locked in a passionate embrace. I had been addicted to Mike ever since the first time I sucked his improportionately large cock, back in the tenth grade. Now my hands were roughly groping Mike's well-rounded crotch, caressing the length of his potent rod.
I reached my hands under his shirt and pinched Mike's firm nipples as I crushed my face into his crotch. Then I pulled apart his fly and reached down his boxers and grasped his rock-hard endowment. In seconds, I was deep-throating Mike's erection and fondling his round balls with my hands.
Mike lay back and groaned; he knew how dedicated I was. All I wanted in the world was the taste of Mike's cum in my mouth -- the warm, sticky juice oozing down my throat ..