Chapter 7
Eight days later, Alfie plowed into Coach Brady’s office at full steam.
He’d had it, seriously had it. No one other than Max and Bruiser had used his phone number to summon him, but Max summoned him basically every other day.
He was built like an ox with a sex drive like a rabbit’s, and he never took the least bit of time to open Alfie up, complaining about every moment Alfie spent doing it.
Saturday night, Max had banged on Alfie’s door at two in the morning, grumbling about an “ice princess” who’d refused to “give it up.” He’d been hard already, not needing Alfie to go down on him.
He’d ranted, half drunk, about having blue balls, as if it wasn’t Alfie who had the blue balls, as he shoved his cock up Alfie’s ass without letting Alfie stretch himself at all.
Alfie had literally shrieked, which Max had responded to by putting a hand over his mouth and saying, “shh, it’s a fucking dorm, you wanna summon the fucking police” before coming in about five strokes.
He’d pulled out, dumped the condom on Alfie’s desk without bothering to tie a knot in the end of it, zipped up his coat—which he hadn’t even taken off—and left. Alfie had licked the come off his desk, feeling stupid and horny and mad.
Then on Sunday Bruiser had been at Max’s.
Apparently he wasn’t allowed to spank Alfie until Alfie’s previous bruises healed, and apparently Alfie wasn’t worth fucking around with unless Bruiser got to spank him, which he had on Sunday even harder and longer than he had the week before until he, once again, came all over Alfie’s stomach.
Max at first said he wasn’t going to bother since he’d gotten his rocks off the night before—implying that his date had put out, which Alfie knew wasn’t true—but Bruiser insisted on having Alfie hang around until he could get it up again and then Max had decided he wanted a blowjob after all.
Meaning it was another night of handing out orgasms while getting zero in return.
And Alfie had had it. The cage was coming off.
Coach Brady glanced up when Alfie came charging in, but his expression shifted from curious to disinterested when he saw who it was.
He flicked through scouting reports as Alfie delivered the righteously indignant speech he’d prepared about reciprocity and what he brought to the team, but when nothing he said got Coach to pay him any attention, his righteous indignation shifted into whiny incoherence.
Coach finally pushed his chair back from his desk.
“Well, now, what did I tell you?”
“That the cage wasn’t coming off until I proved something or other.
I don’t even know what. But if I haven’t proved it yet, then I quit.
If you take off the cage, I’ll keep working here.
I’ll service the team, whatever you want me to do.
But I have to have it off. I have to.” He was just about crying.
“You don’t need the cage off. You just need a little relief. Which is what I told you last week—that I know how to handle that. You shoulda come in here and asked days ago, before you got yourself all worked into a tizzy.”
Now Alfie really was about to cry. Relief. Please, god, yes. He desperately needed relief. But when he saw Coach reach down to open a drawer, he understood what kind of relief Coach was offering.
Not that. Anything but that.
Coach removed the horrible wand thing and got to his feet. “Bend over the desk here.”
“I don’t want to,” Alfie sobbed. “Please, I don’t want to.”
“I know you don’t think you want to, but you’re going to feel better for it, I promise.” Coach pressed a hand between his shoulder blades, bending him into position, then yanked down his pants and shoved the cold, inhuman steel wand up his ass to start its torturous rocking.
It was worse than last time, maybe because Alfie needed it so much more.
His balls were absolutely full, and they emptied so slowly, one sorry drop at a time.
Alfie watched his semen land, devoid of any pleasure or connection, on the ugly linoleum between his feet and cried into the cushion of his arms as Coach worked and worked and worked until a knock on Coach’s door made him jerk upright.
“Come in,” Coach called as he pressed harder between Alfie’s shoulder blades to put him back in position.
The guy who came in was called Nerves, though Alfie had no idea why.
“Sorry,” Nerves said. “Is this, like, personal?”
“Nah. Alfie’s just getting milked. Something a boy like him needs now and then. What’s up?”
Nerves asked Coach so many questions about his performance in the game last Friday, which they’d lost, that Alfie began to understand the nickname.
Coach was patient with him though, giving him what he needed to calm down.
And what Coach was giving Alfie turned out to be what he needed to calm down too.
He hadn’t wanted to be milked, but Coach was right.
Emptying his balls felt good, even if there wasn’t a big explosive orgasm to go along with the emptying.
He relaxed onto the desk, letting it support his weight as Coach and Nerves went back and forth.
Then Nerves went away and someone else came in, and then someone else, each of whom had to have it explained about how Alfie needed to have his balls manually emptied.
It was embarrassing, but Coach explained it all so matter-of-factly, same as how he would explain a play or a drill, that no one lingered on the subject for long.
They each had their own issue to discuss.
When Alfie was empty, Coach withdrew the wand and returned to his desk chair.
Alfie was kind of limp. His dick had been limp since Coach put a cage on it, but now the rest of him matched.
He wasn’t in any hurry to get up off the desk, but Coach harrumphed like he was in a hurry so Alfie peeled himself off the metal surface and pulled up his pants.
He was heading for the office door when Coach said his name really sternly, as if Alfie had fucked something up.
“When I take care of you, I expect something back.”
Which was exactly what Alfie had been trying to say when he’d burst in there—that when he took care of someone he would like to get something back.
But Coach seemed to think Alfie owed him, and since Alfie did feel a lot better and since he remembered that Coach had a sweet cock, he decided he didn’t mind getting down on his knees.
He reached for the door to swing it shut, but Coach said, “Leave it. We’re on a losing streak here, but from what I hear no one except Max and Bruiser are making use of your services.
I want everyone’s balls drained and their butts in bed by ten.
If they see you blowing me, hopefully they’ll get the idea.
So Alfie blew Coach as players stuck their heads in the doorway, said “oh, sorry,” and disappeared again until Coach must have decided he’d been a good enough example and shot his load down Alfie’s throat.
Then he said, “clean up that mess,” meaning the puddle Alfie had left on the floor, and went out to supervise practice.
Alfie cleaned the puddle off the floor and washed the wand, then returned it to the drawer. Coach had said to come in early on Mondays, like a regular thing, so he would be seeing the wand again next week.
It still didn’t seem fair—that he only got milked when everyone else got real orgasms—but he had to admit he didn’t want to give up being fucked by Max.
Or being spanked by Bruiser either, even though his ass was on fire today.
He especially didn’t want to give up sucking Bruiser because it was so nice how Bruiser let him go on and on with it, like enjoying the world’s longest-lasting lollipop.
Then there was sucking Coach, which Alfie liked because Coach gave him tips while he did it.
Coach had even said “better” after he’d come today, which made Alfie feel like he was improving.
No, all in all, he didn’t want to quit. At least he didn’t now that he’d been milked.
That night, he got a call from two different guys.
They both only wanted blowjobs, but Coach would be glad to hear they’d called.
From there, word must have gotten around because suddenly Alfie’s phone was always ringing.
Sometimes the guys came to his place and sometimes he went to theirs.
Five of the guys lived in the same house together, and one night Alfie went from bedroom to bedroom, servicing them all.
Only Max ever fucked him. The guys were all straight, except for whatever Bruiser was, and they seemed to think blowjobs were non-gay enough but fucking would be too much.
Alfie’s blowjob technique improved by leaps and bounds, and since Max fucked him so often and was so fucking huge with it, Alfie figured it was enough.
The one guy who never called him was Ryan, which was funny because he’d been one of the first to take down his number.
Ryan watched him sometimes though. None of the other players paid him any attention at all, even when he was sucking Coach off.
If they referred to him, it was only ever as cum dump, as in “get me a towel, cum dump,” or “you wanna have the cum dump over tonight?”
But Ryan watched him, sneakily, like he didn’t want anyone, most especially Alfie, to notice. But Alfie had noticed.
“You could call me, you know,” he told Ryan after practice one day when most of the players had cleared out.
Ryan jumped about a mile in the air, then looked around, checking to see who was left in the locker room, and asked “Why would I call you?” in an unnecessarily loud voice.
Alfie shrugged. “Everyone else does.”
“Everyone? Really?”
“Well, not everyone.” Their goalie, whose name was Lemieux, gave Alfie a wide berth. And there were a few others who treated him the same now as they had before. “But basically everyone. You could if you wanted.”
“Um.” Ryan’s gaze darted around the room again.
“It’s not gay. It’s just getting your rocks off without having to make a big production out of it. Coach wants you to do it.”
Alfie wanted Ryan to do it too. Ryan wasn’t near as big as Bruiser nor as classically good looking as Max, but he was super cute with dark hair and green eyes.
His figure was long but really lean and he also happened to be uncircumcised, which Alfie knew from those early days of peeking while the team showered.
“Maybe,” Ryan said, but he said it like he meant no. Shame.
“Well, you’ve got my number, right?”
Ryan nodded.
“Cool. See you tomorrow then.”
“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”
Ryan shouldered his bag and walked out, nearly walking himself right into a wall because he kept turning around to look at Alfie.
When Alfie smiled at him, he glanced away fast and disappeared through the door.
He was a nice guy, talking to Alfie almost like he was a real human being and not a cum dump.
Too bad he was so homophobic he couldn’t accept a friendly blowjob from the team’s equipment manager.
Because Alfie really wanted to give him one.