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High School Development
|Mallory, Owen and Logan had all sat in bed for an hour, talking, kissing, hugging, caressing. The latter three occupations were mostly fulfilled by Logan and Mallory, since they were the ones dating. Eventually, Mallory went back to sleep, exhausted by the two tireless hunks, and Owen soon followed.
Logan rubbed his aching abs, stroking his nipples and steel pecs. It took him a good ten minutes to roll out of bed, and when he finally did, the sheets stuck to his sweaty body. He crawled on his hands and knees to the center of the room, still horny as ever, his foot-long hot dog firm and erect. He looked at Owen, his amazing package size finally beaten by Logan’s massive manhood.
Logan then walked to the bathroom, his thick frame filling the whole door. He salivated at his sexy reflection, a six-four, two-hundred-fifteen pound stud. His pecs were two perfect ovals on his chest, sticking out far enough to fill out the largest of shirts but not so far as to look like a steroids freak. His eight pack was hard enough to bounce a basketball off it, and his wide shoulders rippled with unreleased power. He flexed his bicep, and every muscle sprang to attention, bulging out to shapely perfection. His legs were long and thick as Redwoods, his size fifteen feet restlessly shifting back and forth. He turned around and slapped his ass, sticking pert and perfectly out from his V-shaped back. His bronzed skin popped the dazzling color of his green eyes, blonde hair and unshaven stubble. He looked at his ‘L’ tattoo, right above his groin so only his lovers could see it, and thought of the good memories of winning state with Owen by his side.
Winning state…the memories of cheerleaders and wild, alcohol-induced celebrations were mixed with skinny, pale, skating freshman. He could remember not being this hot before…not having the nice car, not getting all the girls…but he didn’t care anymore.
He stared at his face. That kid he’d once been, or knew, or had some relation to, had been ugly. Bad acne, practically chinless. But he, he was hot. A square jaw and high cheekbones, with full, soft lips that were perfect for making out. The deep-set green eyes were offset by his thick brows, and his half-inch sideburns gave his already-testosterone-charged-face an appealing dose of masculinity. His skin was perfectly tan, and he was blessed with a pimple-free face. He could barely believe how hot he was. No one was hotter than Logan McBride, not even Owen, except he ran a close second.
The door opened and Mallory stepped in, the sheets wrapped around her body. She locked the door. “I was cold. Warm me up a little, baby?” She bit her lip innocently and pulled in closer, her breasts rubbing against his chest. “You’re so damn hot, Logan.” He smiled; he knew she was right. She nibbled on his ear, then seductively whispered: “Make love to me right here.”
So he did. The virginal freshman inside him slowly began to melt away, replaced by the practically-nympho senior hunk. He felt something inside him protesting, but ignored it, until it went away. This was what he really wanted to be…
Monday finally came, and Owen awoke at 6 AM. Thank God practice was after school today.
He had shaved the night before – giving him just enough time to grow back weekend stubble for Brittany – and pulled on a pair of black silk boxer briefs, the soft fabric rubbing up against his huge dick and beautiful legs. On went a yellow skintight Abercrombie tank, framing his neck and huge, weight-trained arms. Baggy khaki cargo shorts, a hemp necklace and flip flops completed his 100% jock look, and he rolled into school on his Escalade, the Big Man on Campus.
He parked and a familiar Blue Porsche rolled up in the space next to him. “What’s up, fucker?” Logan flashed his big white smile and stepped out, his Adonis physique highlighted by a white wifebeater that clung to every pore. His green eyes were hidden by a pair of designer sunglasses, and his feet were shod in brand-new Adidas shoes.
They had all but one class together, so they saw each other throughout the day, constantly fondled by the most desired girls on campus. Finally, practice came. Logan walked out on the field, pulling the front of his white tank top behind his neck, baring his tan pectorals and abs and showcasing his amazingly developed shoulders. The cheerleaders squealed.
Owen slapped Logan’s bubble butt, putting his hand around him and playfully wrestling. Their fun was interrupted by the coach.
“There you two are! I’ve been looking for you. We have a new player, so show him around, give him the grand tour!” The coach winked. “No one knows the program better than you.”
Behind the coach stood a strapping six-foot junior, with thick black hair and mischievous brown eyes. He wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous just yet, but had great potential, possessing a toned physique that could be perfect in no time. He stared at Logan and Owen intently, as if reading their souls, and his face seemed so familiar…where had they seen it…
There was an awkward silence. Owen spoke first. “What’s your name, motherfucker?”
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