As he passed the big notice board, his shower kit slipped a few inches to reside immediately in front of his crotch. His outward confidence wasn’t shaken yet, but he was worried. The involuntary reaction to the notice was more than enough to get Shavon’s attention.

“Four boxings this week got you covering up, bro? You drop another one, and you’ll be next.”

Despite his flushed face, he managed a belligerent “fuck you” and pulled the case up under his arm revealing a neat pelt of black pubes, two meaty balls and his pride and joy, four inches of silky, uncut cock that easily stretched to seven and a half when erect. Grabbing a towel from the rack, he strode into the shower and started to soap himself up. He didn’t try to hide his growing wood as the warm water washed away the sweat and mud of the afternoon practice. He was making good progress, and that was all that mattered.

It had been five weeks since the start of the season, almost nine since Coach Guiles had announced the experimental program that the trustees had authorized for the team -- nine weeks since that notice board was posted -- nine weeks of boxings.

No one could deny it was working. The squad had improved every facet of its game, but it was taking its toll, too. He glanced around as the last of the suds circled the drain. Five of the nine guys still in the shower had faced an appointment with the box. Some were still embarrassed about it, while others were cockier than ever. After all, every one of those guys was having the season of a lifetime. Still, no one wanted to have to have that talk with Coach Guiles. No one.

There were always so many rules to remember, on top of all those plays, but now each one was backed up with real teeth. Anything from an unwarranted penalty to a stupid fumble to breaking curfew or being caught fraternizing could earn you a visit with the Coach. As the weeks clicked away, those meetings were more and more likely to involve the box.

By the time he was toweling himself off, the locker room had cleared out except for two forlorn redshirts who were sitting like chastised school boys in the chairs outside of Coach Guiles’ office. He didn’t know their names, but he was feeling sorry for them both. One had his head in his hands, making no attempt to hide the obvious tent in his compression shorts. The other stared ahead blankly, his towel draped across his lap. Poor kids. They’d missed team dinner the night before, and it was time to pay the piper.

Trip shrugged it off, pulled up his shorts, buckled on his watch, and slung his bag over his shoulder. He had a geology midterm tomorrow, and he needed to study. On his walk to the library, the crisp autumn air quickly eased his tension. How could he be anxious when those orange beams of dying sunlight lit the changing foliage so perfectly? Trip had always been strongly affected by the scents of autumn, whether it was heady aroma of the locker room or the earthy musk of decaying leaves.

After checking his watch to confirm he had four full hours to study before heading back for curfew check, Trip opened his geology text and started reading. The next thing he knew, he had been jolted awake by nearby voices. Peeling his cheek of the drool moistened page depicting a subduction zone, he peered around the privacy divider that separated his cubicle from the rest of the row.

Two wiry freshmen stood near the stacks, talking animatedly. It didn’t take Trip long to realize that the shorter of the two boys was Gary Stevens. When the conversation ended and the taller boy walked into the dark corridor of bookshelves, Gary made eye contact and smiled nervously. It had been embarrassing enough when Trip had been assigned a freshman tutor back in September, but their sessions had gone well enough. At least until Trip realized two weeks before that he could not concentrate on the material because his mind kept drifting to how nice it would feel to have Gary’s mouth on his cock.

“Hey, little buddy.” Trip stood to stretch, his as of yet unnoticed hardon snapping against the underside of the desk. Afternoon naps always left the athlete with wood, and Gary’s tight t-shirt wasn’t helping matters. He quickly sat back down.

“Studying geology? Er… trying to study geology?” Gary grinned playfully, glancing down at the obvious teepee in Trip’s mesh shorts.

“Yeah, yeah, something like that. It’s always hard to stay awake studying this shit, but it was a hard practice today. Am surprised I made it as far as I did.”

“Sure it was, but you’ve been having trouble keeping focused for a couple weeks now.” Gary’s hands had slipped down to the pockets of his low-slung jeans, his thumbs looped into the fabric, his fingers framing a neat bulge. It was a pose that drove Trip wild, and he was starting to believe Gary knew it from the way his eyes kept slipping down to Trip’s obvious erection.

“Well, if you know of anything that might help clear my head, let me know.” Trip leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head. He always enjoyed showing off a little, and maybe the kid would get the hint.

“You know me, always coming up with ideas. Wanna try a little experiment?”

“Um, sure, what did you have in mind?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s just what you need. Come on, I know a place we can work things out.” Gary was starting to flush a little, so Trip was pretty sure things were looking up, way up. Trying to be as nonchalant as possible, Trip followed the younger student through the maze of dusty shelves to the back corner of the building. The flickering fluorescent light revealed a wide door with a bright blue sign bearing the symbols of a man, a woman and a wheelchair. His heart racing, Trip took a quick look around before following Gary into the handicapped bathroom.

As soon as the light snapped on and the lock clicked insuring privacy, Trip used his muscular body to push Gary against the tile wall, their lips meeting in a hungry embrace. One of his hands fumbled open the button fly of Gary’s jeans while the other forcefully pulled the boy’s shirt off from the back. The taste of the kids mouth and then neck and the firm groping of his hand through Trip’s shorts stripped away the last of his inhibitions.

“You want to suck my cock, don’t you, kid?”

“Y…yes,” Gary moaned breathlessly.

“Then get to work.” Trip pushed the boy down to his knees, leaning back against the tile himself. As Gary slid Trip’s shorts down to his ankles, the jock stripped off his own shirt, letting it fall to the floor. He pulled hard on his nipples as Gary’s tentative hand stroked back his foreskin, revealing a shiny, dark-pink head already slicked with precum. “Suck that fucker, bitch.”

A moan of pure pleasure oozed from Trip when Gary’s mouth closed over his leaking cock. Eyes rolled back in his head, he arched his back and humped toward the kids face, forcing his dick deeper and deeper despite the occasional gag reflex. Trip could cum at any instant, but he was fighting hard to make this last. It felt so good, but he was an expert at riding the edge, concentrating on every sensation his penis was giving him.

Trip slid his right arm behind his head, to brace against the cold hardness of the wall. This gave him the perfect opportunity to bite the skin of his bicep as his left hand slipped down to grasp the back of Gary’s head. He slowly looked down, taking in the scene. His fingers tangled in a mop of wavy brown hair, Gary’s young, sweet face pressed into his pubes, his left arm flexing, muscles roping under tanned skin.

Trip had always enjoyed the look of his own body, and the sight of his taut abs and powerful arms almost pushed him over the edge. But something clicked, and the sweat now covering his skin turned suddenly cold. It’s amazing how something as small and inconsequential as the motion of a second hand on a watch can pull a man’s life apart. “Holy fuck,” Trip exclaimed.

“Cumimmymouth...” Gary mumbled around the throbbing cock.

“Get the fuck off me, faggot.” Trip slammed the boy to the floor, quickly pulling up his shorts and grabbing his shirt. “You shit, I’ve missed my curfew. It’s 11:30!”

“So what? What’s wrong?” Gary was almost in tears, his voice filled with hurt and fear.

“Fucking asshole faggot.” Trip pulled on his shirt and ran out the door. He did not stop to grab his bag. Running through the turnstile and out into the cold night air, Trip didn’t even pause when the guard tried to stop him. All that mattered was getting back to the dorm attached to the training complex. It wasn’t until Trip was sliding his ID card through the scanner to unlock the door that he realized how sore his balls were, but then a bad case of blue balls was more than worth slipping in unnoticed.

The foyer was already dark, and only the sound of a few muted voices wafted down the stairs that led up to his room. Trip sighed with relief, his heart about to burst out of his chest. The clattering of a clipboard on the top of the small desk in the corner nearly scared the shit out of him.

“Late night, Trip?” The receivers coach was sitting at the desk, felt-tip pen in one hand, clipboard in the other. It was evidently his turn to log in players as they returned to the dorms.

“Um, yeah. Was studying geology at the library and lost track of time. Sorry about that.”

“I’m sorry, too, kid. I told you guys to buy a cheap watch with an alarm.”

“Yeah, I should have. But like this can be our little secret, right? I didn’t mean to be late.”

The coach stood up slowly. “Look, kid. No one means to be late. Time to go see Coach Guiles. I doubt he’s going to be real pleased with you.”

“But, but... coach... please… I mean I’m your best player. Can’t you just let me off this one time. I promise it will never happen again.”

Patting Trip on the back, the coach sighed with real regret. “I really am sorry, kid. I’ve been on your side, but your ID card’s going to show when you got back on the log in the morning. If I don’t take you in now, I’ll have hell to pay. Either way, it won’t make a difference for you.”

On the verge of hyperventilating, Trip seriously considered making a run for it. It would mean being kicked off the team, but maybe he could transfer. He was desperate for a solution that wouldn’t involve visiting Coach Guiles. Before he knew it, the receivers coach had walked him down the long corridor to the office. While Trip’s mind raced for some excuse, his body moved in autopilot. So much so that he jerked physically at the sound of a firm knock on the office door.

“Come!” echoed down the hall as Coach Guiles called for them to enter. Oh god how that word made him wish he’d let Gary make him cum. The jumble of fear, regret and horniness at the core of his being pushed the world away for a few moments. As the two coaches talked, only stray words broke through Trip’s wall of emotion.

“...should have done this weeks ago...”

“...there’s got to be another way...”

“...bend the rules...”

“...doesn’t deserve...”

“...bad for team morale...”

“Sheridan! Wake up!” Coach Guiles’ voice shocked him back into awareness. “If you’d paid attention in the first place, you wouldn’t be here now.”

“Sorry Coach.” His daze broken, Trip couldn’t even muster the energy to argue.

“Alright, let’s get this over with. I’d like to see my wife before she goes to bed.” He stood and pulled the opaque cover off of the box. It stood in the corner behind his desk -- an innocuous looking thing, the box itself was a two-foot-tall gray cube, mostly plastic, with a large red button on the top surface. The only other obvious feature was a three inch hole just below waist level. The machine sat atop a telescoping metal stand that allowed for height adjustments. “Come over here and drop your shorts.”

Trip’s body betrayed him, moving slowly to the box as the word “No” reverberated inside his skull. “Can I jerk off first?”

“You know the rules...”

“But I kinda have blue balls.”

“Yeah, he was studying, right. Just get it hard Sheridan.” Coach Guiles adjusted the stand while Trip pushed his shorts down. There was no need to get it hard. Trip’s cock was at full attention, just the tip of the head peeking out from under his foreskin. “Now just stick it in the hole, kid.”

Trip hesitated, fairly certain he might throw up from the knot in his stomach. He had become acutely aware of the deep ache in his balls. “We don’t have all day. Do it or I’ll do it for you.”

He’d heard it didn’t hurt much, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Trip pushed his hips forward. At first, it felt like he was humping into empty space, but a soft whirring noise signaled that the box had gone into action. Soft, moist silicone wrapped tightly around his cock. Trip closed his eyes, imagining Gary’s perfect mouth closing over his dick. The rest of the world faded way.

“...strap him in...has to be deep...clean stump...”

The box offered the ideal amount of resistance as he humped his cock deeper. The feeling was amazing, so amazing that Trip didn’t notice as the thick leather strap secured him to the machine. Another soft whirring noise chirred from its depths as he felt an extremely tight ring of material coil around the base of his dick. His cock had never been this hard before.

“I think I’m going to cum,” Trip whispered.

Coach Guiles pushed the red button on top of the box. A sharp, electric pulse shot through Trip’s penis and its sensations were gone forever. After a brief moment, a metallic clunk signaled that Trip’s proud cock had fallen into the collection tray. As the coaches unstrapped him from the machine, his balls were clutched tightly against his body, still awaiting release. Nothing but an angry pink pucker the size of an acorn remained nestled in Trip’s pubic hair where his dick once jutted out.

“Get him to bed and send an email to his professors. Sheridan’s going to need a physical day tomorrow, so no classes.” Coach Guiles picked up Trip’s beautifully erect cock, now preserved in plastic, and placed it on the shelf beside the seventeen others he’d collected so far this season.

Trip spent the night alone in his room without sleep. Between bouts of frustrated tears, he fought mightily to stroke his stump to orgasm without success. The next morning he broke the school record in the 40 yard drill. It wasn’t until they hit the showers late that afternoon that his teammates discovered why.

To be continued...