Finally Fucking My Roommate 04: Big Meet (Patreon)

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Chapter 4: Big Meet

We bussed out to a big meet the next weekend, and the group chat got even raunchier than what we yelled out loud on the bus. Somebody had botched the hotel bookings, and the big, blonde senior who had solidified the importance of my cock on the first day of the season, Clint, dropped the news that the team logistics girl had given him.

Clint: Six guys to a room

Clint: Gonna be a tight fit boys

Me: Dibs on sharing with Patty

Jeff: So there's seven in that room then. Including the mascot.

Clint: So you and your dick are already two dudes in one bed. Rough math for the rest of us

Me: He's a cuddler though

Patty and I never discussed bed assignments out loud. We both knew whose bed he was ending up in.

The luck kisses started as soon as we got off the bus. We had forty-five minutes to settle into our rooms before heading out to the meet, and the line organized itself in the hallway before I even had my bag off my shoulder. Patty appointed himself the bouncer, arms crossed in our doorway, letting guys in one at a time while I stood by the window with my shorts shoved down and my hands clasped behind my back. Most of them did the standard peck, lips grazing the head, a mumbled "for luck," and shuffled back out past Patty. One quiet freshman knelt all the way down, cradled my shaft in both hands, and kissed it with his mouth open, licking it a bit, holding it there until the guys in the hallway quit talking. Patty leaned out the door and looked down the stunned line.

"He's raising the bar, boys," he said.

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We wrestled out of our minds that day, the whole team, guys winning matches they were expected to get destroyed in, and every win made our bench louder. Somewhere around the third upset, guys quit celebrating normally and started thanking my cock directly. A sophomore won in overtime, jogged off the mat, pointed at my crotch and said "all praise to the mascot," totally earnest, sweat still rolling off his nose. 

After that it was open worship on the bench, guys reaching over to pat my bulge for luck on their way out to the mat, like it was a game ball.

Other teams noticed too. A singlet hides nothing, and on me it looked obscene. I caught dudes from other schools glancing down at it mid-handshake, guys in the stands elbowing each other and nodding at my crotch. One kid from a rival squad flat out asked what our deal was, and Clint told him, dead serious, "His monster cock is our mascot. It's a good luck charm."

By the sixth upset victory of the day I actually started to believe it myself. I knew how stupid that sounded and I believed it anyway. My cock was magic, and it was winning us matches.

"Everyone kiss it again, just to be sure!" I yelled after witnessing yet another pin, and right there in front of everybody, completely inappropriately, guys crowded in and touched it through my singlet. Some knelt down in front of it, and a couple of them actually kissed it. A ref marched over and threatened to throw our entire team out of the building. 

Coach just rubbed his face and said, "Settle down, boys. Don't get cocky now."

In my own match, I pinned my guy in less than a minute. It was the first pin I had ever gotten at a meet. I rode him flat onto his back, drove my chest down across his, and held him there while he bucked underneath me, and the ref's palm smacked the mat next to my ear. We stood up and the ref raised my hand, while the dude just stayed planted there wrecked, his singlet straps peeled off his shoulders,  his face blotchy red, eyes shiny and wet, visibly fighting off tears. 

He looked at my face for a second, but his eyes dropped straight down to my bulge and froze there, pure defeat emanating out of him, sizing up exactly how much more man had just beaten him. Heat rolled up my stomach watching him do it. I had pinned him twice at once.

I watched him watch me as I reached down and grabbed myself through the singlet, scratching my balls, lifting the fabric away and letting it smack back against me. I hefted the meat of my package, letting it resettle along one thigh, taking my time with every step. He watched the whole adjustment happen, sweat dripping off his chin, his red eyes following my hand, and he never looked away. 

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We won the whole meet. Not a close, respectable win either. We blew out two programs that were supposed to run us off the mat, and our bench stormed the floor after the final match like we had just taken state. It felt like Democrats winning the midterms against a shitty Republican president. Nobody could believe the numbers, and everybody was on a euphoric high as we finished up for the day.

We flooded the showers after, and we weren't the only team in there. Every squad we had just buried shared the same big open shower room, so it was wall-to-wall naked wrestlers under the spray, our team slapping wet backs and butts and rehashing every upset at full volume, the other teams soaping up more quietly with their heads down, mostly just a row of round butts pointed at us. 

They still looked. Guys who had just lost to us kept sneaking glances down at my dick as it came up repeatedly in conversation. I noticed them elbow each other, mumbling, and I pretended not to notice. A sophomore of ours sank to both knees on the wet tile and bowed at it, his arms stretched out, and other guys on our team knelt with him, chanting, while the losers watched like we were a cult. One bulky dude from another team, a head taller than me with a thick neck and a huge chest, came over through the steam with his hand out to shake, a good sportsmanship thing. I jutted my hips out at him instead. He looked down, looked back up at my face, and grabbed my cock, squeezing it and giving it a full up-and-down handshake, and the entire room exploded. 

Clint watched it all from under his own shower head, suds sliding down his huge, fuzzy blonde chest.

"It's not a mascot anymore," he announced over the noise. "That's a god, boys."

So I stood there soaping up while a shower room full of dripping college boys worshiped my dick, and I let them. I even gave it a rapid hip-wiggle, making it slap loudly against my thighs, for the congregation to appreciate. And the acoustics in there made the cheering sound like a championship match was going on.

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Back at the hotel the six of us crammed into our room, bags piled on every flat surface, and the room had exactly two beds. Three guys to a bed, no way around it. Jeff and two of the others claimed the bed closest to the bathroom and immediately started arguing over who got stuck in the middle. Patty tossed his bag onto the far bed by the window, which meant that's where I was sleeping too. We had an unspoken understanding that I would be with him. I think he knew that. I set my bag down next to his.

Clint dropped his duffel at the foot of our bed and peeled his shirt off, all fuzzy blonde chest and thick shoulders.

"I call the outside edge," he said.

"You know what you're signing up for," Patty said.

"Bro," Clint said in an exhale as he stretched out and claimed his third of the bed. "Three dudes, one bed, and one of them is packing a third leg. That thing is gonna be poking both of us in our sleep."

"No promises," I said.

It was dark and we were honestly wiped out from the whole day, so the room settled fast, six dudes in two beds, everybody flat on their backs with their phones lighting up their faces. Patty's hand slid onto my dick under the covers before I had even opened an app. He stroked me with his arm barely moving, just his wrist working, and somewhere in the dark he produced a little bottle of lube, uncapped it one-handed, and greased my shaft so smoothly that the covers never even rippled. I was hard and leaking embarrassingly fast.

He rolled casually onto his side, facing Clint, like he was just getting comfortable. His hand came back between us, gripped me by the base, and set the head against his hole. I pushed, he breathed out slowly through his nose, and I sank into that tight squeezing heat a little at a time, his body swallowing me without one sound making it past the pillow, all with Clint inches away on the other side of him.

I kept my upper body angled away from him, my shoulders flat, my phone held above my face, scrolling at nothing, doing my best to look like I was not balls deep in my teammate with four other dudes in the room. Clint's screen glowed on the far edge of our bed. In the other bed somebody laughed at a video.

We had never fucked quietly before. I moved in short, shallow pushes, barely pulling back at all, and Patty bit down into his pillow and took every one of them. Each time the bed frame creaked we both froze completely, my dick throbbing in him, his hole clenching and releasing around me while we waited out the silence. Holding still like that, buried in him, listening for whether anybody had noticed, turned me on harder than I expected. The public nature of it was a new kink unlocked.

But we weren't hiding much, apparently, and one by one the others noticed. The scrolling in the other bed slowed, and the phone glow over there dipped as heads tilted in our direction. Somebody nudged somebody. I kept my phone up over my face and kept my hips working in those short, shallow pushes, and Patty kept his face buried in the pillow, his breath hitching into the fabric with every push. The three in the other bed started snickering.

"Dude," one of them whispered. "Are they actually..."

And then a minute later, "I wonder what it feels like."

Clint's phone quit scrolling. He turned his head on the pillow and looked straight at me over Patty's shoulder, and I froze mid-push with my dick throbbing in my teammate. He didn't say anything for a minute, and I started to worry when he slid down under the covers. Patty flinched once, his eyes still closed, before he figured out what was happening a moment before I did.

We both just let it happen as Clint wedged his big blonde head down between our hips, his stubble  awkwardly scraping Patty's stomach. He pried our bodies apart with one thick arm, my dick slipping out of Patty, and his mouth closed hotly around me, sucking me eagerly while I lay there stunned. 

I hooked my thumb into Patty's hole to keep him warm, pressing it in to the knuckle where my dick had just been, and he clenched around it, his muscle gripping and releasing in little waves against the pad of my thumb. He was still slippery with lube, still open from getting fucked, and he pushed his hips back at my hand like even a thumb was better than nothing. 

Clint did his best to swallow my large cock down his throat, bobbing hungrily under the covers, his stubble scraping my lower stomach on every dip, his mouth sliding wetly down my shaft until he gagged quietly and kept going anyway.

The three in the other bed knew exactly what was happening an arm's length away from them. Their phones stayed up in front of their faces, screens glowing, nobody actually scrolling anymore, somebody's video still playing to an audience of zero. They kept their eyes glued up at those screens and pretended valiantly not to hear the covers moving.

Clint surfaced for air, his big blonde head sliding up out of the blankets, and I pulled my thumb out of Patty and pushed my dick straight back into him where it belonged. He was still loose and slippery and he took me in one slow push, breathing hard through his nose into the pillow. Clint's thick arm reached over Patty's waist and his palm spread over my ass and shoved, driving me deeper on every stroke, setting my rhythm for me while his other fist worked himself. 

He grunted into Patty's shoulder and his cum splashed warmly across both of our hips, running down between us to where my dick pressed into Patty, while I kept thrusting through it, and that warm feeling finished me.

I buried myself to the balls and unloaded, his meaty cheeks tight against my hips. I bit my lip to stay quiet, and he reached back and clamped a hand on my hip, holding me planted in him while he pumped himself, squirting into the sheets toward Clint, my dick still throbbing in his ass.

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We packed into the continental breakfast downstairs the next morning, the whole team loading plates with waffles and fruit, everybody still riding high off the meet victory. Patty and I sat together. One of the seniors, a thick-necked dude, looked up from his waffle mid-bite, squinted at the two of us, and said, "You two look well rested."

A couple guys chuckled, and the table rolled right on into rehashing the upsets from the day before. Patty grinned down into his orange juice and kept the glass at his mouth, even when he was done sipping it, just covering his mouth.

Jeff and the other two from our room had claimed the far end of the table, and I could hear them under the noise, their heads bent together over their plates, talking about us, not even quietly. 

Clint was the only one who seemed shy. He came through the line with his tray, his blonde hair still wet from a shower, and when his eyes caught mine he looked away quickly and took a seat at the next table down from us, facing the window, shoving a whole strawberry into his mouth.

And for whatever reason, the sex talk didn't escalate to loud chanting or jock-ish hollering. If anything, the whole team felt closer that morning, guys bumping shoulders at the waffle iron, dragging chairs in tighter, passing syrup down the line without being asked. 

Maybe my cock really was magic after all.