Super Bowl Game Plan

From: Mr. Gloryhole Junkie

Jim and I have been best friends from the second grade. He was the first guy I ever saw naked as well as the first guy I ever sucked. It was when we were both in twelfth grade and stayed inside instead of going out to recess. We were in the coatroom, joking about one thing or another when suddenly he asked if I wanted to feel his wienie. As it was after lunch period, I knew he didn't mean his hotdog.

Being the little slut even at eighteen, I said yes with a nervous laugh. My "best" friend was going to show me his cock! He unzipped and pulled out what looked to be this huge monstrosity of cock. Let's say, that in retrospect, it wasn't the biggest thing on the planet at three flaccid inches. But hanging out of a eighteen year old's school uniform slacks, it looked enormous. He smiled and told me to suck it. Nicely but forcefully.

I seized the day as they say and put his smooth cock into my mouth and gave him what must have been the worst blowjob in the world. But he seemed to greatly enjoy it and his cock got to be longer and thicker than I could handle. It was a precursor to the cock he'd later have. In college, Jim was known to have one of the biggest cocks at the school. Only Mr. Lyons, the Chemistry teacher was reputed to have him beat.

I pulled off Jim's dick just as Mrs. Sheen returned from her break. Jim zipped up fast but we were caught. Not caught having homo sex on the school grounds but caught skipping recess. Did you know you can get into trouble for skipping recess?

So Jim and I were ordered to stay after class. Our punishment was to clean the erasers. Even at eighteen, I thought it was very nineteenth-century on the part of Mrs. Sheen. But what Mrs. Sheen couldn't have known was that when she went to the copy room, I sucked Jim's cock again. Right there in the classroom.

And, so was secured a lifelong bond with Jim. One based in friendship and sex. Dangerous sex. We continued on for years having sex in places where we could get caught. The danger factor thrilled Jim and he said it made him harder than anything else. For me, it was the notion that any man could come upon the scene...and join in.

In college, I blew him in the men's room at a McDonalds after school, in the backseat of a city bus one night when only two black guys were looking and laughed, in his parent's bed while they were watching a movie on TV., at the zoo in the dark "Nocturnal Animals of Australia" building and even when we'd double-date. When the girls had to go to the powder room, I'd blow Jim in the men's room.

And that's where we, or rather, he, got the idea. We were in our junior year of college, both just turned twenty-two. Jim had convinced me to start blowing some other guys he knew who'd keep the secret. It was some of the guys from the Track & Field team, some guys Jim owed some dope money to, some guys who went to another school across town. I'd suck them all. Sometimes, they'd be in the back of Jim's car, other times, we'd have a party and I had sucked different guys off in the dimly-lit basement. It was all very sordid and not at all romantic. But I loved every minute of it. And so did Jim. He said he'd never be caught dead sucking a cock but admitted the only times he really got off big were when I was sucking him. He practically redefined the shape of my throat with his cock with all the times I sucked him. It was like a custom fit. And the other guys all loved fucking my mouth because I could swallow them with ease. Jim's dick was bigger than any of theirs so they were a cinch to deep-throat. The guys all said it felt just like a pussy except the girls wouldn't let them cum inside them.

These college boys got to fuck without wearing a condom or worrying about getting some girl pregnant. That's why lots of men, even straight men, recall the blowjobs they got as teens from other guys as the best. And why many married men continue to use the throats of cumpigs such as I.

But it was Jim who hatched the best plan of all. We were juniors and representing our class at a statewide Debate in Springfield. We took a train early in the morning, placed second in the Debates and took the 4 p.m. train back to the city. When we got to Reunion Station, we both had to take a mean leak.

Ever being the nasty boys, we pissed at the long line of urinals and noticed a few men looking at us. Jim smirked and grabbed my elbow, pulling me into another room which housed about twenty-five stalls. As we walked along, I knew just what he was thinking. He poked in to spy into a couple of stalls toward the end and then asked me if I wanted some cum.

My answer was an immediate YES. And into the last stall we went. He whispered for me to pull down my jeans and I did. "Sit there", he said as I groped his basket. He opened the door slightly and looked out down the hallway. Satisfied it was okay, he stood in front of me again and unbuttoned his jeans. But he didn't lock the stall door.

I asked him why the door was unlocked and he said, "It's cool, don't worry...just suck."

No one could have ever refused Jim's cock, thick and measuring in at nine and a half inches. My heart pounded in a combination of fright and lust. It became apparent that someone was right outside the stall peering in. I looked up, with Jim's big cock stuffed in my mouth, to see a middle-aged man in a business suit looking right at me. I looked down a bit and saw he was masturbating to the sight of me blowing my best buddy.

Suddenly, Jim pushed open the door a bit, just a few inches to allow the man a better view. The man smiled as he beat off, a thick uncut cock jutting from the fly of his trousers.

The man looked behind him and nodded to some new comer. I looked up again to see there were several other men craning to get a look at what was going on inside my stall.

One man pushed into the business suit guy, giving his cock a couple of tugs as he did so. But it was obvious that he only did so to gain a better view of Jim fucking my mouth.

During all this Jim had his eyes closed but I suspect he was peeking a bit through his grinning slits. His hand went onto my head as he used my mouth more violently; showing these men how a twenty-two year old in hormonal overdrive can fuck.

A third man reached in and wrapped a fist around the base of Jim's cock. "Big kid", he whispered. "Yeah, suck it..."

A fourth man asked someone there, "Are they together or is he giving it out?"

I looked up to see an older thin gentleman in a trench coat carrying a briefcase, reply, "I'm not sure but I'm in line if he's putting out." Suddenly it became apparent that I was the "he" in their sentences. Jim looked down at me as yet another man reached in to feel his thick cock. "Do them," Jim said.

Was he actually expecting me to suck these guys off? In the city's busiest train station? During the evening rush hour? What if a cop came by or something.

But when I looked up to see several of the men groping their suited baskets and the first businessman leaking a drool of precum, I knew I'd be putting on a show for these guys that would leave each satisfied.

I grabbed Jim's tight ass which was my signal to him that I wanted his cum. And in moments, he was unloading his big young nuts into my mouth. Usually he pumped out every seed into my throat but this time Jim pulled out after a couple of shots and blasted the rest into my open mouth, coating my widespread tongue in front of these strangers.

I took a mouthful and closed my sperm-coated lips to swallow. It almost seemed a sacred silence had fallen over the men as I made sure they knew I ingested it all.

Jim pulled away and buttoned up his jeans. "I'll make sure it's okay," he said. "I'll keep watch." He exchanged places with the middle-aged businessman and then pushed passed the other men in line. I looked up momentarily to see one man grope Jim's basket and a couple others pat him on the shoulder.

But then I was left alone to service these strangers. The businessman said, "Suck me baby...I got to make a train in six minutes." He rubbed his fat cock upon my lips, still slick with Jim's sperm and then pushed it in, opening them as a husband opens his wife's vagina.

He groaned quietly as he pushed into my wet mouth, seemingly relieved he was finally getting some head. He held his briefcase as I did most of the work, tasting this man, sucking his cock. I saw he wore a wedding ring and assumed his wife must never blow him or something. He was enjoying it just too much.

Another man crowded into the stall and pulled out his cock making sure I'd see how horny he was. "I'm next," he said, obviously not wanting to miss his turn.

The first businessman tensed up and shot cum right down my throat. It burned and seemed to gush on forever. He stepped back and as he started to zip up, the impatient guy, not two seconds later, stuck his cock into my mouth. I watched as the businessman pulled something out of his suit coat and slipped it into my shirt pocket. Later that evening, I discovered it was a business card with his office number. I collected fourteen business cards that commuter hour, including one for a body & fender shop which I knew a guy at school's dad owned.

I lost a sense of time as one man after the other took his place standing in front of me using my mouth as a warm hole to shoot their cum. Most were executives commuting from the suburbs. But quite a few others seemed to be tradesmen of some variety, and three must have been retired guys in their sixties.

I lost count of how many guys I sucked when suddenly Jim reappeared and said, "We'd better get going." Fortunately, it was right after a very tall, well-built man in cargo shorts wearing a backpack had shot his sweet-tasting cum into my mouth. As the man stuffed his cock back into his shorts, he asked Jim, "You know him?"

"Yeah, he's my buddy," Jim replied.

"He gives great head," the man said.

"Yeah, he does," Jim muttered. "We'd better get out of here," he then said to me. Jim looked a little uptight so I quickly got up and pulled up my jeans.

The man in cargo shorts followed us at about ten paces.

As we went into the general sink area of the men's room, my heart sank as I noticed about five cops standing by the basins and the hand dryers. 'Shit, caught,' I thought to myself although I was amazed nothing had broken up the fun while it was going on.

Jim and I both tried to act cool as we headed toward the exit. I could hear the cops' walkie-talkies squawking and they seemed to access us as we approached. One stepped forward but just as he may have said something, the man in cargo shorts walked up to one of the other city cops in a very indignant mood.

Loudly and angrily, he said, "What is with this city?! I'm with WLM News and I just got in from a cross country investigation into crime. And the worst of it is right here!"

One of the cops asked him what he meant.

The man in shorts replied, "I come in here to take a shit and have some stranger try to basically accost me in the john?! What has this city come to? And there are five cops standing here?"

"What do you mean, sir?" one asked him. "Is there a problem?" The cops looked at the man but kept an eye on Jim and me as we tried to nonchalantly wash our hands before leaving.

"WHAT DO I MEAN?" the man continued. "How can you allow this to persist? He's there right now! Some fag grabbing at men to suck them off. I don't come in here for this assault!"

"He's there now sir?” one cop asked.

"He was back there right now...," the man stated.

"Okay, we got him," one of the cops said into his walkie-talkie. "Would you mind waiting here sir?"

"I HAVE A DEADLINE to make!" the man said. "I don't have time for this!" "Okay sir, well, thank you..." one of the cops said and the man in cargo shorts stomped out of the men's room in the best acted artificially-irate state I had ever witnessed.

Then, in the mirror, I could see four of the cops ran to the back stalls looking under each for feet and peering into them for the cocksucker. In the meantime, Jim and I were able to smoothly exit the men's room and ran up the escalator to a Wendy's across the street from the train station.

"Close call," I panted.

"Yeah! It was GREAT!" Jim replied. I looked at the fat lump in his jeans and knew the whole incident had turned him on wildly.

The next month began our Christmas vacation. But Jim's dad insisted he get a short-term job to help pay for the car insurance on the Mazda his parents had given him for his sixteenth birthday. He would be expected to get a full-time job come summer.

Often, we would go to the large wooded park near his house when his big sisters were home from college. They took over the house and made it impossible for me to suck Jim off even in his bedroom. They were amazing busy-bodies for such young women.

And yet the park, despite the cold became one our favorite hang outs. I could suck Jim off in leisure along one of the trails dense with large fir trees in the fresh, crisp winter air. He said he loved the wet warmth of my mouth wrapped around his cock as the cold air sent a tingle to his flesh. And he got off watching as I serviced any man who happened to cruise the park trails. Nobody ever entered the park in the wintertime except men looking for action. There'd always be at least two or three cars with solo male drivers looking for some head especially at the noon hour. I never left without blowing Jim and at least five other men.

It was at this park where Jim hatched his plan. We met there one Tuesday morning. I had already sucked off two businessmen on an early lunch hour when I saw Jim approach with excitement. "Suck someone I see?" he said as he pointed to some stray cum on my cheek. I wiped it up and ate the cold, clotted sperm. I think it might have been from that last man driving the Volvo and wearing an Eddie Bauer barn coat.

"I got a job", Jim said.

"Hey, that's great...where?," I replied, afraid it would take time away from my being able to blow Jim everyday as had been our routine since grade school.

"At the fucking 'America Superdome'!", Jim said, thrilled with the proposition.

The 'America Superdome' was built about three years ago at a staggering price and only about eighteen miles from where we lived. It was not the largest superdome in America by one hundred and twelve seats but was by far the most up-to-date.

And it was slated to play host to this year's Super Bowl Game. The Visigoths had beaten the Moray Eels and so the game would be played here at home. My dad was given six tickets by a big client and even bought each of us, mom, my sisters and me, special Visigoth sweatshirts to wear. And thousands of fans would soon be swarming the area. Hotels were completely booked and you'd often see policemen practicing their crowd and traffic control tactics.

"Doing what?’ I asked. Jim was a smart guy and all but being only twenty-two I wondered what marketable skills he had to offer. Other than that of becoming a hung porn star, that is.

"Guess," he said.

"Parking lot attendant?" I replied.

"Security detail!” he beamed. "I already was given a uniform and everything!"

"Security?" I laughed. "You?' Mister I set off the fire alarm in freshman year'? You got to be kidding."

"No, really!” Jim assured. "Actually, I went in for ticket attendant- you know, making sure everyone knows where there seating is. But when I got there, the Assistant Security Chief was there and said he could use more help. So I got the job."

"Doing what? Like carrying a gun and stuff?” I half-mocked. "Remind me to stay far away from the Super Bowl this year!"

"Kinda," Jim replied. "I don't get a gun but I get a security talkie and can go in and out of the security room...where all the cameras and stuff are!"

"Cool", I said. "Maybe you can use them to see me and my family on the 50 yard line."

"Well...yeah, maybe, "Jim smirked." But I have an idea that's a whole lot better than that!"

Jim filled me in on what he'd been scheming. When he told me, I was both thrilled and amazed. Thrilled at the prospect and amazed that Jim would have balls big enough to actually go through with it. I mean, I could get in trouble, even arrested. But he could become unemployable for the rest of his life!

After the New Year, Jim was in his training session each day, all day, but would pop around my house afterward for a quick blowjob up in my room. Then classes started again with only two weeks until the Super Bowl. Because he was still in college, his bosses let him come in after school for training. But he was at the Superdome all weekend. They taught him how to look for suspicious people, monitor a crowd, CPR, how to run stretches of bleachers without keeling over, where the security checkpoints were, the camera room, emergency evacuations procedures, and the codes to speak over his security-talkie.

He'd call me every night, totally wiped out.

But one thing kept him exhilarated. His PLAN. I kept asking if he thought it would work.

"Man, I don't know but it looks good," would be his reply. "I found out that the security cams can't go in there. Against the law."

"Yeah, but they're right outside," I said.

"Man, there's going to be so many fucking people there, they can't possibly keep track of everybody. Even my boss said that," Jim said. "And I've been assigned sector 19. It's not near the main entrances or the any of the food courts so there's less attention paid to it. They got priority sectors like Sectors 3, 12, 23 and 28. Mine's in a low priority sector. There's just washrooms and an emergency exit in that sector. But get the cool part, there's one beer stand so you know it'll mostly be guys over 21 wandering around my section. No little kids or moms freaking out."

"I got to say, Jim, you sound like you got this planned to the tee," I said. "Well, they couldn't give me the big jobs so I'm assigned that area with one of the older security cops," Jim said. "He's super nice but is getting ready to retire and can't run like the others, so I'm his feet."

"Well, I talked to my dad and he thinks it's cool you invited me to hang with you a while in the security room," I said.

"That's what you told him?” Jim laughed. "Man that was the first rule we were given. No friends tagging along."

"Yeah, well," I said, "At least this way my family won't be expecting me to sit with them at all."

"But you got to go in with them," Jim said. "Once you're in the stadium then you can lose 'em and come to Sector 19. It's near the twenty-yard line, half way up and is marked as a turquoise color."

I beat off after hanging up with Jim. My heart raced at the proposition of Jim's idea. Was I prepared for anything like what he'd been planning? I knew I was but actually prayed that everything would go off without a hitch. For the next two nights, I paid extra attention to the nightly news. The Super Bowl was huge news, of course, the lead story. They had stories on the hotels filling up and the madhouse that traffic had become. They had an area reporter at the airport talking about flight delays and over-crowding. They had stories on the boon it was to area restaurants. The sportscasters interviewed every player on both teams and the coaches' faces were on the TV endlessly.

But I was looking for something else in all the reporting. In every newscast, they'd have some one-minute segment on the fans. That's what I wanted to see.

A reporter would be amid a swarm of guys, rowdy and chanting either "Visigoths RULE!" or "MORAY EELS!" Personally, I couldn't care which team won. I stared at the TV set as a large group of young guys in their twenties crushed the reporter to get on camera. I wondered if I'd be sucking any of them in less than 48 hours. Maybe, one of these fans, any one of them might be coming in my mouth in less than two days! Man, look at the big guy on the left of the reporter holding up his tickets and screaming.

I switched channels and saw another group being interviewed. They were all relatives making the Super Bowl into a family reunion. I counted eight men among them. Some man stood next to his wife and kids saying something about what an honor it was to have the Super Bowl in our city...I merely wondered if he might be another guy I'd be sucking off in just a few hours.

My heart raced and I hardly slept those two nights. I'd meet Jim at school and he'd say everything was going according to plan. As he had to go right to work after school, I was only able to blow him in the boy's bathroom during 5th period.

While we were in there on Friday afternoon, as I swallowed his cum, he said, "Sunday's the big day...you ready?"

I said I was, although in retrospect I had no clue as to what would actually happen at the Superdome. But I was too horny to worry about it. If it got freaky, I still had my seat and could just rejoin my family in the stands. "I got to tell you, Bob is a total lardass which is good for us, man," Jim stated. Bob was the older security cop he'd been assigned to. "I mean, he's really been nice but he said today that it's not that big a deal working security especially in a section like ours. So he told me he'll be in the security camera room and I have to call him on the talkie only if something's suspicious. Can you believe what a lazy ass that is? And he's getting sixty dollars an HOUR to work this Bowl!"

"But that's good for us," I added.

"Yeah, it is,” Jim agreed, torn between the additional running around he'd have to be doing and the PLAN. "I know it's good. At least he'll be minimized in all this. He brought his wife, daughter and grandkids in today to show them around. So even today I had to do all the work while he larded around."

Then Jim reached into his backpack and pulled out two kneepads. "'Stole these from the locker room this morning. I think you should wear 'em," he said.

At first I didn't know what they were. Then I rolled my eyes and laughed. "I ain't Monica Lewinsky, you know."

He leaned close and whispered, "No, Monica only sucked one cock we know of...Wear 'em so you don't have to quit because of your knees. It's all concrete at the Dome."

I put the kneepads in my backpack and got horny again. I reached for Jim's basket and groped it. He was hard again.

"Want another load, babe?" he asked looking into my eyes. I nodded.

Jim unzipped and hauled out his beautiful cock again. "Eat more juice, buddy, got to coat that belly of yours for the big day."

I started to kneel when the door opened to the boy's bathroom and this guy named Mark came in. I'd sucked off Mark many times at basement parties and he knew I was in this bathroom some afternoons blowing Jim.

"Don't stop," Mark said as he tossed his backpack onto the floor. "I want some, too."

I went back to sucking Jim's cock while Mark stood there pawing his own big bulge. "How many he do today?" he asked Jim as he unzipped his jeans.

"Not real sure," Jim replied. "But you ought to be there to watch him Sunday."

I reached for Marks fat, long cock as I deep-throated Jim. Then I switched to suck on Mark's cock for a while.

"Oh, man, yes," Mark sighed as I slobbered on his dick. Then looking back at Jim he asked, "Why? What's Sunday?"

"SUPER BOWL, man!" Jim said as he rubbed his cock along the side of my face as I sucked Mark deeply into my throat. "You going?"

Mark fucked in and out of my throat between strokes uttering, "That's right; you're working there, right? Yeah, everybody's going...why?"

"Our buddy here's working it, too," Jim said. "So to speak."

"What you mean?" Mark asked.

"Let's just say," Jim added, "That there's going to be another Super Bowl party ...in his mouth, man!"

"Fuck, yes" Mark laughed. "Where? Your house?"

Both guys were taking turns fucking my mouth, occasionally pushing both inside.

"America's Superdome,” Jim whispered.

"WHAT?!" Mark laughed incredulously. "At the fuckin' DOME?"

Jim nodded and I looked up at Mark and with my eyes, smiled. My mouth continued to blow the two young studs.

Suddenly Mark popped his load, flooding my mouth and washing over Jim's cock with his thick white semen. I swallowed and lapped it off their hard shafts. A moment later, Jim erupted, feeding me his second load of the afternoon from his ever-fertile teenaged scrotum.

As they pulled out and started pulling up their jeans, Jim said, "If you're there, make it to Sector 19, its color is turquoise. You'll see me and I'll tell you what to do from there."

Mark laughed as he patted my head. "Good bj, buddy...you know your stuff!"

"You think you'll be there?" Jim again asked.

"Yeah, sure, when?" Mark asked. "I'm going to be there with some buddies though."

"All afternoon", Jim said. "All through the game."

Mark looked at me again as he never had. He was a nice enough guy but I can't say I was anything more to him that his cocksucker. "You're going to be sucking cock during the game?"

I nodded.

"I'll be there," he said flatly.

I was nervous like a bee all day Saturday, racing here and there, unable to rest. Even my dad at one point in the afternoon asked me if anything was wrong. I suppose he feared I may have taken some drugs or something. How could I tell him I was over-wrought with excitement over what could possibly occur in less than 24 hours? But I had to say something. "Just the game tomorrow, dad," I only partly lied. "It's just too cool that we're actually going!"

"It is going to be fun," dad agreed. "Too bad you'll be with Jim. I know you'll see it from the inside, but are you sure you don't want to sit with us?"

"Oh, dad, come on", I groaned. He could not ruin the plan at this short notice! "I promised Jim and he's going to show me the security room and there's an area where I might get to see the players..."

"I know, I know, son," dad was quick to jump in. "I think it's great. So great that I was thinking of joining you both at some point."

You have to be kidding, I thought to myself. "What?” I asked incredulously. "Well," dad added, "You made it sound very exciting and I thought maybe I could join you two for a few minutes for a quick tour."

"Dad, Jim will be, like, working!" I stated. "I mean it was hard enough to get his boss to agree to me being there!"

"Well, where's Jim assigned?" dad said. "Certainly, I can maybe find you and say hello during half-time or something. Would that be against the rules?"

"No..." I said, trapped as to what to say.

"So what area is he assigned?" dad asked innocently. "I promise not to horn in on anything or embarrass you."

"Sector 19, its turquoise." I replied. The moment I said it, I kicked myself for not just lying and saying I wasn't sure of where his area would be.

"I probably won't even see you guys. The Dome is enormous and I would think that area is miles from our seats," dad tried to assure me. "Now, let's go outside and shovel the driveway to burn off some of that energy of yours. Sunday, the big day, could not come soon enough. I was showered and dressed by five-thirty in the morning. We weren't even leaving for the Dome until noon.

My mom and dad were amazed to see I'd made breakfast for everyone. It was something I never had done before and the eggs showed it. But they found my excitement over going to the Dome 'cute' although they'd have died if they knew its true appeal.

My sisters were in from school and the Super Bowl. They got up around nine and had to spend the rest of the morning getting ready, washing their hair, trying on different jeans, doing their make-up. Like they might meet one of the team members or have a close-up on the Jumbo Cam.

My sister Mandy came into the living room as I was trying to burn off energy and the hours by playing my Sony Playstation. She stood there and asked my parents, "How does this look? Candy thinks it's too tight."

I looked up and saw my sister squeezed into a pair of white jeans. She looked good.

Suddenly Candy entered the room and said, "I think she looks like a slut. I mean, who does she think she is? Jennifer Lopez or something?"

"Candy!" my mom said. "Mandy looks fine. We'll all be wearing jackets anyway."

"Yeah", Candy said. "But the hottest guys go to sports stuff like this and I don't want us to look like 'hoes or anything."

"Your sister does not look like a lady of the evening," dad stated, avoiding the term 'ho'. "And might I remind you that this is not a sleazy talk show. I don't want you using those names in this house please."

I nearly swooned as Candy had mentioned all the hot guys who'd be at the game. I went to my room to remember to stuff my coat pockets with the kneepads Jim had given me. And my sisters were worried about looking like hoes!

Just before we left, my parents had the TV on and were watching some pre-game stuff. A couple of tailgate partiers, very handsome, older guys in their forties were chugging beers as their wives said how they got into the parking lot the minute it opened to fans.

Then they showed the crowds just beginning to assemble. It looked like a swarm of men in winter coats and sports hats.

My heart beat fast and I got such an erection that I had to go to my room and jack off.

At noon, we left. We got into the Dodge Caravan and made our way to America's Superdome. The traffic was heavy but moved along amazingly well. I guess the city cops had learned their stuff.

When we got within a half mile of the Dome, traffic slowed to two lanes entering the sea of parking lots. It took twenty minutes to get there and an hour to park. I sat in the backseat looking into other vehicles. When I'd see a man, I wondered if I might be sucking his cock later.

As we entered the Dome, I nearly panicked. There were so many people there. It all felt different than watching the throngs on TV... I feared I may chicken out of the PLAN. My parents wanted me to go with them to the seats so I knew for sure where they'd be. I trailed behind looking at the thousands of men pouring into the stands. I saw dozens of cops and security guys at the main entrance and along the busiest corridors.

This plan was not going to work, I said to myself. Jim was nuts if he thought it would.

But something within me compelled me to go as far with it as possible. I didn't know where it would lead but I had to go for it. After about forty minutes of sitting in the terrific seats my family had, it was my mom who actually propelled the events forward by saying, "When were you supposed to meet up with Jim?"

If she only knew what she was asking! I had to act. And act now. It was at that moment I had to make my decision. I could split or say I'd blow Jim off and stay in these great 50 yard line seats with my family.

"Now, I suppose," I said.

"He might get worried," mom added. "Maybe you should go."

"Yeah, yeah." I muttered.

Dad seemed to sense I was suddenly torn, although he had no clue as to why. "Go and say hello to him and if you want to come back here, just tell him," he said. "I'm sure Jim will be busier here than he ever would have imagined anyway."

"Okay", I answered. Dad was probably right. The whole plan seemed half-baked after looking at the enormous crowds. I got up and said, "I might be back in half an hour but if I'm not, you know I decided to stay with Jim." I looked around the upper tiers and could not get over the men. I wondered if any of them might cum in my mouth later.

"Sector 19, right?" dad asked. "In case you don't come back; keep a look out for me at half-time."

"Yeah, right," I said, hardly hearing him. "Well, see you later..."

"Have a good time, son," mom shouted.

Boy, I was hoping I'd have a good time. Jim promised me the time of my life.

I made my way through countless people. It seemed I walked for an hour to find Sector 19. When I was about to give up, I saw the concourse ahead was turquoise. Man! Finally!

I saw an older security cop sitting outside what looked like it could have been an office. He was handsome, maybe early sixties and had only a slight paunch.

He looked right at me as I approached him. "Hi," I said. "You wouldn't happen to be Bob, would you?"

"Hmm," he nodded. "Welcome to the Superdome, what's up?"

“I was wondering if you knew where Jim Reed might be." I asked. Bob kept his eyes over my head scanning the crowd as he spoke, "You his friend? The one he talks about all the time?"

"I guess," I said.

"Yeah," Bob got on his talkie, "6-5, someone is here for you."

"This is 6-5, 8-2," I could hear Jim reply over the talkie. "Send him here."

He's further down this concourse," Bob said, pointing. "'Can't miss him, he's in uniform."

"Thanks," I said.

Bob didn't even answer but resumed his scanning of the passing crowds. "Jim!" I shouted as I spotted him along a wall, where he very dutifully mimicked Bob's visual scanning of the mobs of fans.

Jim grinned big and motioned for me to join him. "Just stand here," he said motioning to an open spot along the wall beside him.

"I didn't know if you backed out or not...I expected you an hour ago almost," he said.

"No, I'm here..." I said meekly.

"It's your big day, man," Jim added. "You're going to be busy if these crowds are any indication."

"I know," I said, "They're more than I expected.

"Backing out?” he asked with a tone of disappointment.

"No, no," I replied, "It's just so many people."

"Yeah, isn't that cool?" Jim smirked. "So many guys and just you."

We stood there silently watching as hundreds of people criss-crossed in front of us.

"Well, you ready?" Jim asked softly.

I hesitated for the longest while. But then three men came like gangbusters through the crowd. Big, sexy men carrying beers and packing jeans like no others I have ever seen in all my twenty-two years.

"YEAH!" I said with refound vigor. "I'm ready!"

"Okayyyy," Jim said, obviously thrilled I hadn't backed out. "It's GAME TIME!"

He pulled his talkie, which was perched on his shoulder, over to his mouth, "8-2, and 6-5 here."

"6-5, 8-2, go ahead, " Bob's voice replied.

"Elephant Walk", Jim stated.

"10-4", Bob replied.

Jim turned off his speaker and led me down the concourse a few more feet. "What the hell was that?" I asked.

Jim laughed. "Code talk. Elephant Walk is patrolling the men's room...get it? Elephant Walk?"

"Fuck, that's bad", I said.

"Yeah, but that's great for us." Jim said. "Means I'm in charge of this section, man. Totally in charge that I can go into the head and look all I want...or, in your case, overlook all I want."

"Fuck, yeah," I stammered. "Right now?" I could hardly believe we were at the threshold of the PLAN.

"Right NOW,” Jim replied, holding open the men's room door for me, and six other men going in to take a leak.

The room was huge. The main area had about fifteen sinks and eighteen hand dryers. The space was far larger than ordinarily necessary but as Jim explained, it was so lots of guys could pile in and wait for a urinal or a sink without spilling out into the concourse.

On the other side of the wall of sinks was another huge space. On one wall was long row of twenty urinals. And opposite them were about fifteen toilet stalls. You couldn't see them from the sinks area although men, at peak moments, could be shoulder-to-shoulder in that space waiting for a urinal or stall to open up.

The stalls nearest the sink room were nearly never used as anything but as additional urinals. Used either when the place was mobbed or by the kidney-shy.

The stalls deepest into the room were used differently. When Jim and I entered, lots of guys looked and made way as Jim simply wandered through.

One big, loud guy, shouted, "HEY! They got Kinder Cop working here! How old are you, TWELVE?"

Several men laughed. But Jim smirked. He was on a mission. Besides, if the loud guy did one single thing out of line, he could make his Super Bowl experience a piece of shit.

I tailed Jim trying to look nonchalant but the testosterone of the room had me feeling like a puppy. When we went into the urinal area, I had a momentary view of nearly two-dozen cocks hanging out of pants as guys pissed.

Jim slowly patrolled the area, and you could see some men's backs straighten up and grow tight as they acted guilty of some unseen act or another. Collective masturbators guilt or perhaps something like that?

We made our way in, through and then exited. Quick tour but informative. Once in the concourse again, Jim whispered, "See the men in that place? Fuck, this place needs you, buddy!"

He got on his talkie, "8-2, and 6-5"

"6-5, 8-2...I see you", Bob replied.

"You on cam, 8-2?” Jim asked.

There was a long pause. "No, 6-5," Bob replied, "You are."

"Funny, 8-2", Jim sneered into his talkie as he slightly waved.

"Elephant Walk clear", Jim said.

"10-4", Bob replied.

Jim again turned off his talkie.

"He's such a prick," Jim muttered, "He must be back in the security camera room."

I got flushed with embarrassment. "You think he's looking at us?" I asked.

"Maybe,” Jim replied. "But he can't be doing anything since there are twelve other security guys in the cam room."

"Maybe he saw something", I said with a tinge of paranoia.

"I explained all that," Jim reassured me. "It's against the law to have any cams, even secret cams in the head. Against every man's civil right to piss in freedom."

"You sure?” I asked again.

"Yeah, I'm sure." Jim reiterated. "I been in and out of that camera room for a month and they don't have any cameras inside the men's room. Don't worry."

Then Jim was approached by some people looking for their gate. After talking with them for five minutes, he returned to where I was standing.

"Okay, it's now or never," he said. The game's going to start and it'll be harder for you to get started undetected by the cams in the concourse. I took a deep breath. I knew what to do as we'd been over the PLAN many times.

"I'll walk that way so I don't pass Bob again if he's back," I said.

"Good," Jim replied. "Just go like two-hundred feet, mix it up a little and come back."

"Wish me luck, 6-5," I said.

"I'm watching' your back, buddy, don't worry," Jim reassured. "Concentrate on your duties, man."

I walked off blindly into a throng of people. I could hear the announcer shouting out some Pepsi ad and music roaring from the stadium itself. For a moment, only a moment, I thought about getting so lost in the crowd that I'd find my way back to my parents' seats.

But after pacing what I guessed to be two-hundred feet, I turned around and it looked like nothing. I could clearly read the men's room sign, as could thousands of other men. To them it meant a piss, but for what I had in mind for them, it seemed like the best billboard ever made.

I tried to look nondescript and casual as I approached the men's room once again. Beyond the entrance I saw Mark standing with Jim. For the briefest of moments, I saw them looking at me. But I tried not to acknowledge them in any way. I felt like a spy on a mission.

Once inside the men's room, I was again overcome with the heated sexuality of dozens of men bustling around, washing hands, waiting for a urinal, going in and out of stalls. I looked around and in any given eyeful, I saw at least eighteen men I'd happily suck off.

Not that they were all major studs or anything like that. Many were well built good-looking men but the vast majority were just "regular guys". Guys of all ages and all builds. Just so-called typical, "man-in-the-street" guys. I fought every urge to just drop to my knees in the middle of the place.

I passed the sinks and the urinals. Over loud intercoms was heard the announcers and game. Fans were able to leave their seats for a drink or a piss without missing any of the game. Large screen monitors were scattered along the public areas of the stadiums concourse, but only sound was available in the johns.

Several stalls were unoccupied and I could have taken any of the first seven but I didn't. Jim had told me to take the last one. He said he'd placed a five-inch piece of nondescript masking tape across the doors of the last two stalls. Nothing major but just enough to make guys think they might not be in working order. I was to push open the nearer stall, thus rendering the tape useless (and making the stall useable), act like there might be no paper in it and immediately go to the last stall nearest the wall. Again, by merely pushing it, the tape would be meaningless.

The urinals were lined with guys but I was so nervous and so focused on getting the PLAN right that I could not tell you who was closest or who might have noticed my routine with the stalls.

Immediately I shut the door to the stall and saw the gloryhole, which opened it to the stall beside it. Because I had opened that stall's door first, it was now operational. I pulled my jacket off and hung it on the back of the door. Through the crack in the door, I could see the backs of two men pissing at the urinals. I wiped up the toilet seat and completely pulled off my jeans as instructed. I wore slip on shoes just so I could do this. I wore no underwear just as Jim had told me not to.

I slipped back into the shoes and hung up my jeans, making sure my wallet was secure. I sat on the toilet and then it occurred to me: I was sitting in America's Superdome without any pants on! I presumed the only other guys who might be able to say that were down in the Visigoth and Eels locker rooms!

The air was cold. And on the other side of me was the continual flush of urinals and deep men's voices geared up for the game which was soon to begin.

A few minutes passed and I was beginning to fear the plan might be a bust. Maybe the stalls were just too far down for guys to want or need to use it. But just as I was thinking it, the stall beside me was filled with a big dark blue parka. I tried to secretly peek through the hole but as it was pretty fair sized, maybe six inches in diameter, I hardly had to strain to watch.

Guessing from his build, his jacket, his slightly gray public hair, his uncut meat and his Timex watch, I'd say he was in his fifties. I gave a sidelong glance as he stood there, seemingly oblivious to the gloryhole and gushed piss into the toilet. He had one of those cocks that are thick and fat like a coke can. I had sucked off a few older men with cocks like that in the park. It was funny how such thick sausages ofeighteen hung on only older men.

I watched him finish pissing and as he shook his dick a few times. Man, it looked tasty. Then, without any notice, he turned his body to the hole and stuck his cock through!

I was stunned! Even though this was the PLAN, I couldn't believe some man would want me to suck him at kick off at the Super Bowl! His cock grew thicker and harder and soon was throbbing for attention. I reached up and wrapped my fist around this stranger's meat. It became clear to me. I could actually put this stranger's cock into my mouth.

And I did. I leaned forward just a bit and licked the foreskin, tasting some of this stranger's precum.

Then I remembered what Jim's instructions were: suck them as quickly as possible. For two reasons. In order to service as many guys as possible during the Super Bowl. And the fact that guys came to watch the game, not to waste their time.

I sucked the man fully into my mouth and tasted his fleshy pole. He stood motionless, perhaps fearing detection. In under a minute, the man flooded my mouth with semen. Salty, watery semen from a stranger's nuts! I gulped it down as I sat back onto the seat.

One down, I thought to myself.

No sooner had he left then another man took the stall. He, too, unzipped and pissed into the bowl. This guy looked to be thin and wore a sports jacket and khakis. He wore a wedding ring but was actually stroking his big cock as he pissed. As I was wondering if that was just a quirk of his, he bent down slightly and smiled.

He was a good-looking man, wearing jeans and a navy blue sweatshirt, maybe in his late thirties. He stood tall again and openly masturbated, even wagging his dick at me. I looked at his mouth-watering cock and knew I had to swallow this stranger's sperm. The moment I laid a finger to the hole, he stepped up to it and let me stroke him. So hard and hot.

But my mission was to get guys to cum in my belly. I leaned forward and opened my mouth to the hole. I felt a rough, thick finger, a real man's finger; stick itself inside my mouth, feeling my tongue. I wondered if he felt any of the other man's cum still coating it.

Immediately he plunged his long cock into my hungry mouth. I gagged and coughed but quickly tried to control myself as to not draw unwanted attention. The man's cock was uncut and meaty. I sucked on it wondering if he was gay or straight, married or single. Had he fucked his wife last night or a boyfriend or maybe some streetwalker making big bucks with the Super Bowl in town?

As he used my mouth, I swallowed it down my throat. I knew this drove a lot of men crazy, feeling their nuts on my chin and the muscles of my throat milking them for sperm.

And this guy proved no different as he let out a shocking groan as he suddenly started to ejaculate. I was torn between swallowing all his tangy semen and worry about his stupidity bringing trouble to the door. But nothing could have pulled me off his cock as it spasmed out seed.

Then just as quickly, he pulled out and buckled up. He gave me a "squirming finger", a wiggle of his forefinger which was what Eeler fans all did when they liked a certain "play". I smiled to myself that this hung older man would do such a silly thing after having fucked my throat. Men were too cool.

Where his groan had brought some attention to my booth, my fear was unwarranted. As soon as the man left, another man took his place, obviously having waited at the urinals for his turn. He was a big, burly Scottish-looking guy - like he should have been wearing a kilt. But I was the one who'd be playing his bagpipes. He roughly groped himself through Visigoth sweatpants and I had my finger at the hole in a flash.

Just as I did that, I noticed a figure peering in through the crack in the door of my stall. Somebody was looking in. he was too close to make out any features but as I looked down to his waistline, I saw he was groping himself, too.

The Scotsman put his fat stubby cock to the hole. He wasn't hard but was still almost too thick to wrap a hand around. His pubic hair was sandy red with a sprinkling of gray. I figured him to be in his fifties. I wondered if he was at the Dome with his wife or with his office. It might be one thing for me to be in there sucking but it always surprised me to find so many men "up" for some quickie head. I mean, my participation was well-organized for weeks using Jim's PLAN but these guys were acting incredibly spontaneously.

I tasted the man's foreskin and looked back at my peeper. But there was not one shadowy figure but two looking into the stall. I wondered what the fuck was going on at the busy urinals. Didn't other guys see these two peeping into a stall? Maybe the traffic in the restroom had slowed down since I heard LeAnn Rimes singing the "National Anthem" over the P.A.

I continued sucking the Scotsman but kept looking at the two peepers. If they wanted to watch, they'd get a good show. What did I care? I figured I'd be sucking them both off immediately after this man had flooded my mouth in semen.

"Suck it," a voice whispered. It came from a peeper although I couldn't tell if it were the figure on the left or the right. But I followed orders and slobbered all over the cock through the gloryhole, making it real wet and sexy for the guys looking in.

As I pulled off the man's cock for a second, he shot his load all over my cheek! I wasn't expecting that. His cock shot three wads of seed on face but I had to eat some and quickly put the still cumming head back into my mouth. Another two squirts of hit jizz and the stranger was spent. To think that all within twenty minutes, he'd left his seat, got a sip of water, took a needed piss, fed his wads of sperm to a college cumpig in the men's room and would probably now head back to the concourse for a beef sandwich before getting back to his seat for kick-off.

'Not a bad afternoon for a married, middle-aged sports fan!' I thought. He didn't have any pleasantries in exiting. Instead, as he scrambled out of there. I heard one of the peepers ask him, "Was he good?" Then I heard the Scotsman’s say in a very flustered voice, "Was WHAT good? Get away from me...!"

Seconds later another guy had his cock at the hole. His nylon coat made tons of noise but when I saw his huge cock coming through, I was beginning to wonder why Jim's PLAN hadn't included announcements over the P.A. that I was in the men's room at every fan's service?

I guessed him to be a college-aged guy. A cock that was as hard as a steel rod - real inflexible and pointing straight out from his fly. There wasn't a lot of time to enjoy it as he jacked it while I sucked the head. Within a minute he'd fed me his load. Thick globs of his goo shot onto my tongue as I continued to nurse the head of his cock. Once my mouth was completely awash in his semen, I pulled off his dick and let the on-looking peepers see it. It appeared that as one peeper would take a turn at the gloryhole, another guy would have to "see what was going on" in that stall on the far end.

I held the stud's cum in my mouth, knowing the peepers must think I was being a total cumpig whore. But that was the point, now wasn't it? Or maybe they were just amazed to see a twenty-two year old guy eating wads of sperm from all these dicks poking through the hole.

Whatever it was, they kept using the hole and many kept looking in. There were three more cocks in succession after the stud. I had sucked a lot of cocks but as each new dick was damn big, I was beginning to wonder if sports-minded guys were hung better than average citizenry. These guys seemed to break the curve in the dick-size meter. But I had to remind myself that these men were average citizenry. They were all men who'd drove in or flown in for a fuckin' FOOTBALL game!

Buy a ticket, use the men's room...use my mouth! That was my new motto. Jim's plan was going better than I'd have ever expected. The minutes became an hour. The next guy to take the adjoining "service stall" wore a very familiar jacket. It was the colors of my school and looking closer, I saw the name 'Fillman College' embroidered onto the back.

Suddenly a face appeared at the hole. It was Mark. Big, hung Mark.

"What kept you?” I whispered, knowing I'd seen him with Jim earlier.

"See you been busy," he whispered looking at the cum on my face and in my hair. "It's like some fuckin' last plane out of Vietnam is leaving' or something' in here."

I asked what he meant.

"There's a fuckin' line in here, you little slut," he smirked. "You're fuckin' NUTS doing this, you know."

I simply licked my lips and smiled. "How many in line?” I whispered.

"Shit," he replied. "I don't know, didn't count 'em. A lot. There are some guys at the sinks and another little group at the urinals telling guys somebody's giving out blowjobs."

"Shit!” I laughed, utterly stunned although I'd been sucking cocks for a solid hour.

Mark slipped a small bottle of Evian water through the hole. "Here, Jim said you might need this," he said. "To wash down the spunk."

I took the bottle and left it at my feet. "Tell Jim all I want to drink today is cum."

Mark smirked again but pawed his crotch, obviously disgusted and aroused. He looked to his door seeing a couple of guys peeping in on him. "These guys are waiting," he said. "Better get going."

"Don't go...." I muttered.

"Don't worry, slut," he said. "That's why I waited a while...you know I like fucking a well-lubed throat."

I opened my mouth wide for him and wagged my tongue. The same tongue that had goteighteen off all the other guys.

"I gotta ask," he continued, "what fuckin' number am I gonna be?"

"You really want to know?" I whispered.

"Yeah," be barely said.

"Forty-two," I stated.

Mark looked blown away. He gave me a look that was priceless. "Whoa...you only have been in there an hour, man..."

I smiled and again licked my lips, "Yeah, I know...now make it forty-three."

Then I leaned forward and placed my open mouth to the gloryhole. All I could hear was Mark standing up and the sportscasters doing a play-by-play over the loudspeakers. I found it ironic that the Visigoth's had just gained three yards and was now on the forty-three yard line!

I felt Mark's cock shove itself into my mouth and use it like a jack off machine. I simply had my mouth to the hole and he fucked it like a rabbit. Usually Mark took more time but he was obviously nervous and over-wrought with lust at the idea I was being the jizzhole for the Super Bowl. Spritz of his juice hosed down my tongue and uvula. Hot and thick as usual but I sensed his orgasm was more powerful than ever.

He didn't even say goodbye. He left the stall in a flash and was replaced by one guy after the other all the way till half-time.

By that time, I was feeling slightly queasy with all the sperm I'd been drinking. It was not only that the quantity of the stuff I was ingesting was staggering but also the fact it was from so many different sources. I mean, I every guy has his own special 'blend', if you will. Some guys shot thick, white cream into my mouth, while others' cum was more watery. Some men shot tangy, flavorful stuff while many of the younger guys pumped off rounds of sweet, even bland nut juice. Latino guys tasted a little different from White guys and heavier guys tasted different from the lanky guys! I was almost suspecting that taller guys had floppier cum than shorter guys! A couple of the men only came a few dribbles while most ejaculated healthy rounds of scrotal milk. And I was surprised to find so many the guys blasted sperm like they were firing from a freaking fire hose! I figured there was something to the hype of the Super Bowl that was making these guys particularly horny.

Now that it was half-time, I was sure not to leave the stall. The men's room almost comically swelled with fans taking desperately needed bladder evacuations. Music blasted through the P.A. system as the half-time show, starring Jennifer Lopez was introduced on the field.

And more guys peeped into the stall. Some would whoop'n'holler and walk off laughing and I heard more than a few voices belt out things to their pals and anyone in earshot, "Your RIDE'S here, Tom!" or "Illegal tackle on the one-yard line!" I even heard one guy shout, "Some guy's doing' a FLUTIE in the last stall!" I had heard all the stories about Doug Flutie and I guessed these guys had, too.

I don't know if any of those loudmouths made their comments and left or came back later for a freebie blowjob. But I hardly cared as I had little time to worry about it. As one cock would blast in my belly, I had another one to service.

I thought it funny that these guys had Jennifer Lopez, probably wearing another of her tacky, titty-dresses, to look at on the field yet were in the men's room wondering what was going on in the last stall. I got off on watching one man after the other come into the adjoining stall for a quick servicing. After a while, they were all the same in many ways. Most guys wore jeans but second place went to GAP-style khakis. And a close third was sweatpants. I loved watching these guys unzip, or unbutton or simply pull down their sweats to get their dicks out for a sucking.

In that moment, when they'd grab the stall and lock the door fast, most all guys were the same. At once horny, nervous and I would suspect a tad worried if I'd actually suck them. I mean, no one wants to get arrested and certainly not in America's Superdome in the middle of the country's biggest sports and television event. And some guys, even knowing I was sucking every cock that needed it, would act momentarily uptight about pulling out their cocks. Maybe they were worried that a cumpig like I, sucking off so many cocks, might be comparing his size to the last dozen cocks. But I'd quickly place my finger and even my mouth to the hole and immediately their worries were put to rest (and their cocks put in my mouth).

I was the JIZZHOLE OF THE SUPER BOWL! I had been on my knees for hours sucking off every guy who came in. Even though I'm certain the reality of it was that only a small percentile actually took his turn in the service stall, with so many men at the Game, that small percentile still meant hundreds! My throat was raw, my clothing and my hair soaked in stray semen. I blessed Jim for giving me the kneepads. I could never have serviced so many men without them on the cold concrete floors of the men's room.

As a hung Latino unbuttoned his 501s and prepared to get his Half-Time blowjob, Jim was approached by a man back in the Concourse near the water fountains.

"JIM!" my dad shouted, happy to have found him.

Jim turned white. "Mr. Harris!" Jim replied as my dad met him along the wall. They shook hands and my dad said. "Good game, isn't it?!" The crush of people and noise made it almost impossible to carry on a conversation. The energy of the place was pure electricity.

"Yes sir, it is...'Goths winning...," Jim said, really into the score despite being shocked to see my dad. "Where you seated?” he added.

"OH, FAR, FAR AWAY...," dad shouted, taking a sip of a beer he'd bought.

"OVER ON THE OTHER SIDE! GREAT SEATS!"

"Hey, GREAT!" Jim replied.

"WHERE'S MY SON?” dad asked, looking around. "I told him I'd try to get over here at half-time..."

Jim was always a smooth liar and said, "Oh, he just walked off...I think to get a soda or something'."

Dad just stood there looking at the passing throngs of people. "You have quite the job, Jim!” he said. "How do you keep track of all this?"

"Training' sir...and these, “Jim said, pointing to the talkie on his shoulder. "So far, the crowd's been real good."

"I got to hit the head," dad suddenly said. "I'll be right back so tell my son I'm here."

Jim's eyes darted back and forth. SHIT! The plan was working so godamn well. Why didn't anyone tell him Mr. Harris would be popping around during half-time? He wanted to blurt out that the men's rooms were out-of-order but with the thirty guys a minute coming in and out of it, that'd be a rather stupid lie. And the next nearest men's room was clear across in the Yellow sector. So all he could think of to say was, "Uh, sure, Mr. Harris, I'll keep him here but you might be back first..."

My dad tipped his plastic beer glass a bit in a salute, took a last swig before tossing it into the trash and headed to the busy men's room. Jim watched him cross the concourse to the doors and it occurred to him that my dad had a pretty good build on him, tall, trim, small ass. And even though Jim would never suck cock, he had to notice that my dad packed a nice basket.

And at that same moment, Jim realized just how nasty he could be. He'd just sent a middle-aged family man into a public men's room where his son was sucking off half the stadium during the Super Bowl! Shit, the man had to have passed three guys who'd just shot off into his son's mouth as he entered the place! Jim had to laugh aloud at that thought.

My dad walked into the crowded men's room and found he had to wait-on-line for an open urinal. He stood in the room with sinks and hand dryers. And waited. And waited some more. A couple of other men even shouted, "COME ON, WE'RE GOING TO BUST A BLADDER IN HERE!” hoping the men at the urinals would double-time it so the line could move. Even for such a busy place, the turn-over was way too slow.

Finally, my dad made his way forward to see what was going on. He looked into the room with the long row of stalls and urinals. Most of the stall doors were closed and every urinal was taken but only a couple of them would ever open up. It didn't occur to my dad what was up and so when a stall opened up he ran in and took a leak. The beer flowed from his cock and he enjoyed the cold and the energy in the air. And that Jennifer Lopez. He hated her music but even his wife was shocked by the dress she wore for the half-time show. As he stood there pissing, he had to admit that he was feeling slightly horny. One thing was for certain, he knew his wife, my mom, was in for a major fucking that night.

He flushed the toilet using his foot and left the stall. But looking at the line at the urinals again, he spotted the same "WB Tasmanian Devil" jacket standing there. It was the same guy as had been standing there before. And then he noticed that next to him stood the same blonde kid he'd seen the first time he looked around the wall. Taking a piece of toilet paper as a guise to stall, my dad noticed that few of the men at the urinals were leaving. They kept looking down the way at the last stall. And any guy, even a dad, could tell a few were jerking off. Then dad saw a huddle of five guys peeping into the last two stalls.

Dad was momentarily confused. Although he knew what was up, he was taken aback that it was occurring at America's Superdome...while his beloved Visigoth's played no less! He had seen some circle jerks at urinals before, even participated at a couple in a cruisy men's room near his office but never thought anything like that might take place during the Super Bowl. His first thought was to run back to Jim to tell him some unsavory activity was taking place in the men's room. Although he knew it would be the right thing to do, he had to admit to himself that he'd be too embarrassed to say such a thing to Jim, his son's best friend and only a twenty-two year old himself.

And the meat in his slacks was beginning to do a little talking of its own. He felt his cock getting hard as he stood there watching men go into the second stall from the end and leave. Maybe he could spare a couple minutes...

A urinal opened up and he quickly went up to it, nervous but strangely excited. He hadn't done anything like this in over three years. And even then it was a mini-circle jerk between him and two other businessmen in hotel men's room. He'd felt so guilty afterward that he had to take the rest of the afternoon off in fact.

This was a whole different scene. The moment dad stepped up to a urinal; he could see the guys to his left and right were hard. He discretely looked down a bit and could see at least seven other cocks out and erect as they were slowly milked by their owners.

But a little jacking off obviously is not what these guys were waiting for. Again, the second stall from the end opened and a handsome, husky older man made a rush for the exit. He was replaced by a big, strapping guy in his twenties. And then by a young Hispanic dude. One by one, a guy would leave that particular stall and another guy would go in. All the while a few others would be poking and peeking and laughing amongst themselves. Finally, the man to dad's left, who had reached over to feel my dad's cock a bit, whispered, "Some kid's in there doing the stadium, they say."

My dad gave the man a strange look. He was obviously confused.

"He's sucking anybody who goes in there," the man said. "There's a hole."

My dad suddenly knew what was going on. A gloryhole was in that booth. He'd used one once or twice in the Navy but it's been so long since he'd encountered one, he thought they'd ceased to exist.

As one Super Bowl fan would leave the stall after getting head, another of the guys at the urinals would make his way over to the same suck stall. In only a few minutes, my dad found he'd moved down three urinals, getting closer to the real action as he realized the man to his left was telling him the truth. Whoever was in that end stall was sucking off every man in the men's room. He had never seen anything like it before.

He looked over his shoulder and saw three guys in their twenties all wearing Visigoth sports logo jackets were openly jacking off as they peeked into the stall. Then a very tall kid, who looked no older than twenty came out of the service stall. He turned crimson red as one of the guys pointed at his fly and, laughing, told him he forgot to zip up. As the kid zipped and rushed out, one of the young men took his turn for a blowjob.

My dad was torn as to what he should do. He looked to the other end, partly watching out for security and partly looking at the other men coming in and checking out what was going on. He could see four guys were still ahead of him for a blowjob but another several men stepped up to the urinals making the line of men looking for service endless.

The stall was a revolving door as most men went in, unzipped and fed the cocksucker. No one wanted to dawdle in case they ran the risk of getting caught in the act. But what they didn't know, couldn't know, and was that Security would never come in. They didn't realize that fresh-faced Security guard outside had basically set up the whole thing for their pleasure.

One of the twenty-something hunks came out of the service stall and rolled his eyes with a shit-eating grin.

"Looked good in there...and he took that big thing you got", one of the older men whispered. He was about sixty and hadn't taken a turn, choosing instead to watch all the guys get blowjobs by peeking into the stall.

"All the way," the stud quickly replied as he headed back to the sinks area, joining his three buddies who'd cum and gone before him.

A heavy-set man took his turn and was out of the stall in under a minute; then, a big guy; then a short, muscular Italian-looking guy.

My dad was next. His heart was pounding knowing it was wrong what was going on in this men's room - sheer and utter perversion. But he'd never participated before in a gangbang. Even if it was some cock sucking queer in there, the sexual energy of the place was overwhelming. He knew he wanted to add his load of cum to the "pot". He thought any guy who'd swallow it all must be nuts, but, it wasn't like he was a real person or anything. I mean, it was just going to be a sucking mouth, no real homosexual contact or anything.

The older peeper smiled as my dad opened the stall door. "Feed him good," the man whispered with a leer. Then he went back to looking into my stall along with a young Puerto Rican guy.

By this time, I'd been on my knees and had sucked off almost three hundred different cocks. My stomach was a mix of sperm from all of them - from young studs to middle-aged men to jocks to fat guys. Most were white guys but throughout were some thick Hispanic dicks and other cocks of all shapes and sizes.

So I was in a slight daze as I awaited this one. I had been simply keeping my open mouth to the gloryhole, there was no need to signal them with a finger or play any waiting games. I had my mouth open to the hole for the last nine cocks, never pulling it away, even to swallow their spunk. They'd shoot their hot ropes of jizz into my mouth and down my throat and I'd swallow, licking my sperm-coated lips as they'd zip up. And my mouth would be open by the next man pushing his cock through.

But for some reason, I pulled away for a second and in so doing, caught a glimpse of the man through the hole. HOLY FUCK! That was the shirt my dad had bought - the one with the Visigoth helmet. But there had to be thousands of those made. I looked closer to the hole and upward. It was my DAD! I was both exhilarated and nauseous. He'd kill me if he knew I was blowing the whole Superdome!

But then I looked between his legs. He was wearing light tan khakis and I had to give that bulge a double-take. My dad was sporting a major woody! And it looked thick. He squeezed it a few times but, like the other guys, was in a hurry and quickly unzipped his slacks, in a flash; a beautiful, uncut cock was jutting out of the fly. Man, my dad was hung! He made no bones and quickly stepped to the hole, pushing his cock in for servicing. I leaned back slightly as his thick meaty cock came within an inch of my face. I wanted to see this penis up-close. And here it was throbbing in full erection. My own dad's fully erect cock joining in a cumpig gangbang! He pushed into the hole more and suddenly, I saw his nice, plump hairy nuts brush against his zipper and his side of the hole. I milked his cock and with my other hand, reached in through the hole for his balls. He got the message right away and pulled them out of his slacks and pushed his whole "meal" through.

I had my own father's cock and scrotum in my hands. I gently groped and squeezed his big nuts. That's where dad made his sperm! Made ME! Quickly, I licked the shaft; dad's cock was warm and bounced a few times at my touch. He was on fire.

But I saw the men were watching through the door jamb and it reminded me to get on with business. This long, perfect-looking cock might be hanging on my own dad, but at that moment, he was just another trick in the long line of men at the Superdome. He was no different from the other men up for a quickie blowjob. I got turned on thinking that my dad had taken a turn in line for one of the biggest gangbang's this place would ever see.

I deep-throated dad and he jabbed into my mouth, piston fucking it a few times. I suckled on the head and about three inches for a while to know I tasted my dad, letting some precum flow down my throat. I again swallowed him deeply and lapped at his hairy balls as I sucked him off with the depths of my throat.

Suddenly, I could feel his shaft thickening and his nuts rise up a bit in their sac. Dad was going to shoot his semen into my mouth like all the other guys. After all, he was just one of the guys, although better hung than many who'd shot off in me.

I backed off his shaft slightly, wanting to taste as much of my dad's semen as possible. He was about to cum in my mouth the way he came inside my mother to make me - that same erect cock shooting sperm from those same balls!

BLAST, BLAST, BLAST! I gagged as he fired off a more powerful ejaculate than I'd expected. My dad came like he hadn't shot off in a while. And it occurred to me that maybe he hadn't. Maybe this was the first relief he'd gotten in a few days, maybe even a few weeks. Or maybe my dad was just super turned on knowing he was injecting more jizz into the anonymous sucking mouth of the Super Bowl - adding a few more ounces of man seed to the community cum dump.

The shots of sperm just kept cumming and I chugged it down best I could. The tangy, sweet nutty flavor of my dad made me shoot a load of my own. Without touching myself, I shot my third wad of the day onto the metal partition (my second load came when I blew some super hung, smooth kid wearing a 'Nickelodeon' t-shirt and high-tops. He must have been nine thick inches and had the sparsest of pubic hair I'd ever seen on a guy able to shoot sperm).

Dad had quickly pulled out of my mouth and I saw him shaking his head as he took some toilet paper to wipe off his cock. He looked distressed as he zipped up and made sure he was back together. He opened the door and left. While watching him exit, I saw my next client through the gloryhole enter - a brawny young Puerto Rican "gang banger" (in the OTHER sense of the word). He didn't even close the stall door. He just stepped up to the hole and unzipped his jeans, letting the men at the urinals watch. He hauled out a fat, dark, uncut cock and pushed it into the hole. "Eat that cum, queer...eat me up, queer!” he kept saying. He came fast and ran out of the place.

Seconds later, Jim came in and made no bones about getting his blowjob. A couple of guys darted out of the place when they saw him enter in uniform but the majority stayed as it quickly became clear that this security guy was okay and simply looking to add his contribution to the cum dump. He came into the service stall, kept the door wide open and pulled his hot meat out of his black uniform slacks.

He didn't acknowledge me at all. I suppose to assure that these other fans couldn't link us to one another if there were a problem. I looked through the hole and saw about five men were looking at Jim's impressive erection. Jim loved men to look at his cock and watch him fuck. I blew Jim and he fucked the hole like he was on top of some whore in a motel room. He pounded away at the partition and really put on a little exhibition for the on-lookers. Then he shot. The first wad filled my mouth but then he pulled out and shot three more times onto the hole for the other guys to see. Then he re-inserted his cock and let the rest of his jizz pump off in my sucking mouth. Then he abruptly pulled back and stuffed his still hard cock into his fly and zipped up. Without a word, he passed the other guys and left the men's room.

After that, many of the men didn't even bother to close the door to the service stall. What was the point with everyone there for the same thing? All through the Third and Fourth Quarters, I sucked cock after cock after cock. My throat was raw, my lips getting chapped in saliva and semen and my belly was sloshing in massive quantities of reproductive fluid that no guy should ever have in there!

After the game ended and the Visigoth's won, the men's room swarmed with fans. Cheering and hollering filled the Superdome. At the very last second, as the game ended, even the man I was blowing, pulled out of my mouth for a second and asked who'd won since he'd missed it on the P.A. He cheered and hollered for a minute but then regained his composure and stuck his cock back in.

The men continued to pour in to hit the head before hitting the road. Many became aware there were free blowjobs to be had the moment they walked into the men's room. Most men quickly washed their hands after their blowjobs, not wanting to be identified as having fed the "pot", but there are always those drunk loud-mouths who even at the hand dryers were laughing about some "faggot swallowing cum" in the last stall.

Then, more abruptly than I'd have expected, the crowds thinned. In a serious crowd-control tactic, fans were expected to exit the Superdome as quickly as possible following the game. Security, local police and the management ideally wanted the stadium and parking lots cleared within ninety minutes. Once I finished off an older man wearing binoculars and sporting a long, thin cock, I crawled back up onto the toilet seat, drenched in sweat and streaked with fresh and dried semen. I was a mess. But I smiled to myself and rubbed my taut, twenty-two year old belly, made slightly bloated by all the cum I'd ingested.

As I sat there, I felt a warm flow from my anus. I hadn't eaten or drunk anything since that morning and I quickly realized I was leaking out semen. I had swallowed so much cum; it was oozing through my digestive track. As I wiped at my little butt, Jim knocked on the stall door. "Open up, buddy," he said.

I leaned forward and unlatched the lock. Jim pushed it open and gave me a huge fucking grin. "MAN! Look at you, you mother fuck...have a good time?" I nodded and licked my lips. My throat felt so sore I felt I could barely speak.

Jim pawed his mound.

"We better get going," Jim said handing me my shirt. "Your dad said they'd meet you by Gate 16 since they knew you had to stay with me till I was finished here."

I stood up, horribly achy from being on my knees all day. It wasn't that my knees hurt as much as my hamstrings and even my toes as they grazed the cement floor for hours on end. Slowly I got dressed. As I did a man came in and stood at the urinals obviously curious about the rumors that had been floating around the stadium. He looked at us and Jim again grabbed his bulge, letting the man know everything was cool.

"Got it in you to take care of him?" Jim asked me.

I leaned out of the stall door and saw this tall handsome man in his forties stroking a nice-looking dick.

"Of course, I am...," I croaked.

Jim motioned with his head for the man to step over to the stall and he did so in a flash, his big dick still hanging out of his fly. It was a quickie as the man looked all around; making sure no one came in. He then put his hand on my head and groaned, "Oh, yeah, kid, suck me...you want this load, too?"

I nodded as Jim said, "That's what he's here for, pal."

And the man shot his wad in my mouth, groaning throughout and wiggling his hips. He pushed me away gently and let a long string of remaining jizz flow from his now-sensitive cock to the floor.

"What's with this whore?” he smirked to Jim.

"He likes cum," Jim simply answered.

As the man put his cock away and zipped up he said, "He's the one who's been in here all day? The one I heard some guys talking about?"

"Yep,” Jim said.

"They didn't say the mouth was a hottie," the man said. "Damn good mouth on you, kid...but I guess you would be." The handsome man then pulled out a business card from his shirt pocket. He wrote two phone numbers on the back. "That number," he said pointing to the top one, "is to a guy I know. He makes porn flicks - real underground stuff. Call him and he'll get you all the dick you can handle. The other number is for Frank Maes..."

Jim perked up big time at hearing the name. "Frank Maes? The Frank Maes?" he asked.

The man chuckled as he patted his cock now back in his slacks. "Yeah, THE Frank Maes...owner of the Visigoths."

My eyes bugged out of my head.

The man continued, "Don't worry, kid...Frank's a good buddy of mine. The best kind, if you know what I mean. Call him and he might find you a job with his team. He likes to have a blow boy on staff to keep the team happy." The man grinned when he saw how happy that made me. "And this number on the front is me. Call me this week and I'll set you up in a men's room where I work." With that, the man said, "Well, bye boys and don't get caught."

As he left I read his card and discovered he was Executive Director of Hogan International Airport - the world's busiest airport!

Then Jim and I exited the men's room. I was sorry to see it go, as it had become a mini-home-away-from home for so many hours. It was in there that I'd sucked hundreds of cocks and had hundreds of men shoot their sperm into my mouth.

The concourse felt especially cold as we planned to head to the Security area where Jim had to change back into his street clothes and pick up his paycheck. But just outside the men's room door was my dad! He had a look of total shock on his face as I must have looked like a zombie after the assault my mouth and throat had taken. But then he looked even more amazed and closed his eyes for a second. He turned white but said nothing. Jim was the first to speak, "I got to change my clothes and stuff, Mr. Harris." Jim knew dad had added his load to my stomach but didn't want to stick around for the fall-out.

"Oh, that's fine...Jim...," dad muttered. "We'll come with...," he added never tearing his eyes away from me. Silently the three of use walked the three hundred feet to the Security Cam room. "I'll wait here," dad said. "You boys go in and take care of what you need to. Then we have to get going. I told your mother and sisters to meet us at Gate 16."

Jim and I went into the room which was actually a series of three little rooms. The first had several desks and emergency equipment while the other two rooms were loaded with monitors of cameras trained on virtually every inch of the Superdome. As we walked in, three security cops spun their seats around and gave Jim a huge grin.

But Jim led me to the monitor rooms where Bob stood looking into Monitor 12. There were two other security cops with him and then a third came out from the back.

Bob shouted to one of the guys in the first room saying, "Make sure that door's locked there, Dan."

A lanky, good-looking man with a mustache got up from one of the desks and locked the outer door.

Bob stood there and stared at me. "So you're the little cum eater in men's room in my Sector 19, uh?"

I was mortified. But Jim seemed calm and I could have sworn, even gave a little smile.

"We've been keeping close track of your little activity all day," Bob said. "Gave the goddamn Super Bowl a run for its money, in fact."

"More action in that toilet than there was all afternoon on the three-yard, line, right Bob?" another older security cop interjected.

"That's right, Len...we been seeing more men use that men's room than used the fuckin' concessions stands!” Bob added. Then he slowly let his hand drop to his basket. "And we were all stuck in here just watching..." Just then, another security cop switched on a top monitor and I saw the interior of the men's room. I looked at Jim in shock. It was surveillance footage from the area of the urinals and stalls. There were roughly twenty men at the urinals and a huddle by the last stall. The monitor switched pictures and suddenly it was a close up of some men stroking themselves as they peeped through the stall doors. Fast forward again and the men are entering and exiting the service stall. A third monitor showed close ups of me in the stall sucking one cock after another. Another fast forward and yet another showed me getting some cum shot into my face and mouth. These security guys had captured every second and every angle of the cum gangbang in Sector 19's men's room.

The security cops all looked at me and smirked as I looked at the monitors. I looked back at Jim, "But you said..."

"I didn't think they could put cameras in there..., "Jim replied lamely, still not terribly flustered.

"We don't tell the new kids everything, boy," Bob laughed. And with that, he slowly unzipped his uniform slacks. "Now, you want to take care of another seven cocks? You can pay us back for looking the other way all day." The other men huddled into the middle room apprehensive but excited. They watched Bob pull out a cock like a big piece of Polish kielbasa. The mustachioed cop followed suit and said, "Do us all, kid," as he unbuckled his belt.

Jim just smiled at me and said, "Go for it, buddy...I'll go distract your dad for a few minutes." And he left the room and quickly went back into the concourse.

My dad was hovering around when Jim came out. "He'll just be a couple minutes, Mr. Harris. My boss is trying to get his hands on an official Visigoth game ball for him."

Dad just nodded, still unsure if what he had been thinking was accurate. Five minutes became eighteen and Jim said, "Hey, Mr. Harris, I'll run to Gate 16 and meet up with Mrs. Harris and your daughters."

"Hey, would you mind?" my dad asked, relieved. "They've been waiting almost thirty minutes now."

"No prob, Mr. Harris," Jim said as he ran down the hallway and disappeared. The security cops each took a turn as I sucked them. One would shoot cum and another would grab my chin to pull my head over to his erection. A couple of them had me go back and forth sucking them.

Bob was the first up and had been the first to ejaculate down my throat. His cum was thick and copious - not bad for a granddad at all. Once he was zipped up, he said, "Come on guys, feed the little queer your cum and let him go...bet he has to be in bed soon. School night, you know."

A couple of the men laughed and they picked up their pace.

Bob said he'd go tell Jim they'd be done with me in five minutes and went to the door. He opened it but was surprised to find Jim was not around. Instead, there was a handsome middle-aged man standing there in the now sparsely populated concourse.

Donning the security cap once again, Bob pleasantly asked, "May I help you, sir?"

My dad just shook his head, "Oh, no...I was just waiting for my son." "He's Jim's buddy from school?” Bob asked with a mixture of embarrassment and glee. After all, he'd just fed this man's son a load of his warm semen. "Yes," dad replied. "Jim said you were getting him a game ball...that'd be wonderful."

"Well,” Bob answered looking up and down the concourse, "the guys are giving him something..."

Just then the door opened and I saw my dad glance into the Security Room. Fortunately the last man had just goteighteen off in my mouth and was in the back room buckling up again. The other cops went back to their business and three passed by where my dad and Bob where were standing to do a final sweep for the night.

My dad poked his head in and said, "'Bout ready, sport?"

The mustached security cop became flushed as it dawned on him that this man was my dad. I could tell he felt weird knowing he'd just used his nine inch cock on my throat and squirted his jizz in me. He scrambled to the back room.

I met dad as he said to Bob, "Good night and thanks for watching my son." Bob chuckled, "Pleasure was all ours...and is reminded, and Main Parking Lot Gates A through D are due to close in twenty minutes."

Nothing more was said that evening as we got in the van. My folks invited Jim to join us as we went out to dinner. My mom kept asking me why I wasn't eating anything but Jim was quick to add, "He made a pig of himself at the Super Bowl...I ain't never seen a guy eat as much meat as your son here!" Jim could tease like such a prick.

On the way home, it was dark and everyone was exhausted. Dad was driving, my mom was in the passenger seat and my sisters were in the far back, lying down. I was alone in the backseat. I closed my eyes and my mind was reeling as I relived every second of the day. I had shocked myself. Jim's plan had worked. I had actually sucked off and swallowed cum from hundreds of guys at the freaking Super Bowl! Including my own dad! I had discovered my dad was not only hung and had delicious semen but was also just like any other man - never passing up a free blowjob.

I loved recalling how all those different men were hung. I mean, of the eighteens of thousands of people gathered at the America's Superdome that day, nobody but me could later tell you what this guy or that guy was hung like. There's some strange, fun power to that. I had just been in the parking lot where these guys might have been getting back into the car with their wife and kids, or their parent's station wagon or the church Charter bus or in the van with their buddies. But I could tell you how each was hung, what his dick feels like soft or fully erect and what his semen tastes like! If their cocks point upward, down or straight out when hard.

And most importantly, I could say I had eaten the semen from this guy's brother or that lady's husband or those kids' dad or that girl's boyfriend, or that person's son. I could even tell you, if there hadn't been so many guys, what each guy enjoys best. Which man likes his cock deep-throated, which likes just the corona of his penis sucked, which is a powerful throat fucker and which likes his nuts nuzzled and licked. Who else in the whole city could say that?

Six weeks after the Super Bowl, my dad received a large parcel at his office. There was no return address. He opened it to discover twelve videotapes. He was mystified as to what they were or who its sender might be. There was a note inside, reading:

"Hello. Is your son still coughing up cum? Fifty-thousand in untraceable bills or you'll be on '60-Minutes'"

My dad turned ashen. He popped one of the tapes into the VCR near his desk and saw me sucking a big Latino guy with tats all over his arms.

Immediately he recognized it to be at the Superdome. He zapped through the tape, fast-forwarding to see me suck countless cocks and swallow load after load after load after load of strangers' cum.

On the cassette of one videotape was a post-it with "daddy's on this one" scrawled on it. He popped it in and cringed to see himself lightly jacking off at the urinals...and then going into the stall...then unzipping...and using his own son's mouth to dump his cum into!

He bundled the tapes up and picked me up early from school. I had to leave my World History class to meet him in the school lobby. We got in his car and he drove to a remote parking lot at a nearby mall. I didn't know what was up but knew it was not something good. Dad was at a loss. He turned off the motor and looked at me.

"What's wrong, dad?" I asked innocently.

He took a deep breath and looked into the rearview mirror. Seeing that not a sole was around, he reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a videotape. "They got it all, son," he choked out.

I knew exactly what it was and sat dumb-founded looking at the cassette. "Hours and hours and hours of you at the Super Bowl," dad softly and painfully uttered. "My son at service to man after man..." I didn't know what to say.

"And now I'm being threatened...blackmailed," dad said.

"Blackmailed? What can anyone do to me, dad? Or you?" I offered. "I mean, so what, who cares? So I'm a whore, I like cum, I sucked off half the crowd...how can they blackmail you? Let them blackmail every one of the hundreds of guys on the tape then!"

"You don't understand, son," dad softly added. "I'm one of the hundreds of men on the tape..."

Dead silence fell between us. I had tried to go as far as I could with acting like I had no idea he was one of the many men who'd shot cum in my mouth that day.

"I'm on this tape...," dad continued, "I'm on here using your mouth like all those others..."

"Who's doing this?" I asked.

"I imagine that Security cop," dad muttered, "or any of those security cops...or anybody whose lap these tapes may have fallen into." "What do they want?" I asked.

"Fifty grand," dad said. "I could get that together given some time but how do I know it'll end there? How do I know they won't want another fifty grand next year?"

I felt terrible, my plan, Jim's Plan, was suppose to bring men fun and me a belly full of sperm. How could I have known my own dad would screw things up by having to get a blowjob from the slutsucker in the men's room? "I could help, dad," I said.

"How?" dad asked with grave doubt.

From my backpack, I pulled out the business card which that last man in the men's room had given to me.

"What's this?" dad asked.

"That top number is of a guy who'll put me in some movies...and pay me," I said.

"What kind of movies?" dad asked knowingly.

"Like these movies," I answered pointing to the box of tapes in the backseat. "Only better quality."

"Porn?” dad asked.

"Like gangbang porn, dad," I cautiously answered.

My dad rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"They'll pay really well", I explained. "The more cocks I suck, the more they'll pay."

"I...I can't...put my own son into porn...this kind of porn?" dad said.

"How else are we going to get these fuckheads off our backs, dad?” I said.

"I don't want you to lose your job and the family to fall apart." My dad thought hard and long. Then said, "Where is this place that makes these movies?"

"In the city here and sometimes they make some in other locations...," I said. "Please let me help you dad...it was all my fault anyway."

"What would you have to do?" dad meekly asked.

"Just what's on these Super Bowl tapes," I replied. "Just suck dick after dick. That's all they want me to do and they'll pay big."

Dad slowly took the business card from me and then reached for his cell phone. Slowly he punched in the numbers and hit "send".

"Yeah, hi...hello," dad said, speaking into the receiver. "Um, er...Um, my friend was given this number...um, about six weeks ago...at the um...Super Bowl...yes, right, yes...yes he was...yes...all day, yes he was..."

My dad was dying of embarrassment discussing this with whoever was on the other end.

But dad pressed on, "Well, he...we decided to investigate your offer ...for video work...I'm his...I'm a friend of his...and what would you pay?" My dad grabbed a notepad and wrote down various figures. "And if he did that, you'd pay him 5 grand? If he... does... three-hundred, its fifteen grand? Okay, right...and then increasing..."

As I listened, it occurred to me that I'd just forced my dad into becoming my pimp.

"Does he WHAT?” dad asked very distinctively.

Then he slowly looked at me, looked me up and down a bit and answered, "Yes...he swallows."

Then he listened to whoever was on the other end for several more minutes. Their conversation ended as dad said, "Right, I'm in complete agreement, it'd be best to meet right away...how about in a couple of hours? Good and that way we'll know exactly what's involved."

Dad hung up and sat there silently for a moment. Then he whispered, "They'll pay you twenty-five thousand..."

"Twenty-five thousand?” I exclaimed, barely trying to mask my excitement. "Whoa, twenty-five thou!"

"Right, right, twenty-five thousand," dad continued, "But for that twenty thousand, they want you to...do...perform..."

"Suck off?" I interjected.

"Alright, suck off," dad said, burning red with embarrassment, "five hundred men all on videotape."

"I can do that..." I said.

"Yes, I know you can," dad replied, nodding to the backseat and the videotapes.

"That's great," I said, "see, I know we can solve this blackmail thing, dad."

But dad was quiet. "There's still the matter of the other twenty-five thousand..."

"Don't worry, dad," I said showing him the business card "I called that bottom number three weeks ago and they're paying me already. I have a four thousand saved already!"

Dad took the card again and read the name aloud, "Frank Maes? How do I know that name?"

I dug into my backpack again and pulled out the Sports section of the paper. On the front page was a picture of Frank, a good-looking man of about fifty-three wearing a shirt and tie and shouting something from the sidelines.

"He owns the Visigoths...," I said with a smile.

Dad's brows knit in confusion. "And what's he got you doing for him...?" he asked.

Once more I reached into my backpack and pulled out a folder filled with 8x10 glossies and handed it to dad. Dad flipped through the first three and into more and then more.

He read off names as he went through headshot photos of each player on the Visigoths, "Jim Haines, Bill Gritts, J.G. White, Ken Walker, Bobby Lupino-Martinez, Chet Jerowsky...what is this?"

"My new job,” I said. "Frank wants me to memorize each player, their faces, their names, their positions, their stats, their height, their weight, their cock size and how they like to be blown."

Dad nearly choked. "He has you sucking the Visigoths? The Super Bowl champ VISIGOTHS?!"

I just nodded. "And he pays me...some for opening my mouth and some for keeping my mouth shut." I dug through the Pics in my dad's lap, "This guy, here...,” I said.

"Stan Mackenzie...a center...." Dad interjected.

"Right," I said, "He's got the biggest cock on the team, I mean he's like over eleven inches...and this guy, Al Minoti...he's got nuts on him like a horse. He's married but said his wife never sucks him anymore ever since he beat her up last year in a Miami hotel...and Mike Hals...leaks precum like a fire hydrant..."

"You suck all these men, son?" dad asked flipping through the photos. I nodded.

"And you have them cum in your mouth?" he added.

Again, I nodded.

My dad just sat there staring out and then through the rearview mirror. Then, without saying a word, he pushed back his seat several inches and slowly unzipped his pants. He stared straight ahead as he unbuckled his trousers. I saw his cock was hard and throbbing inside hi white knit boxers. He pulled his dick out and let it stand tall before us. It looked even bigger and thicker than I'd remembered it through the hole. He held it and wagged it slightly. No words were needed as I knew exactly what dad wanted, needed.

I looked through the back window and seeing no one nearby, I leaned down and tasted the glistening precum that crowned the head of my dad's cock; I milked him a bit so his foreskin became coated in his own precum and my saliva. Right there in a mall parking lot at one in the afternoon, I was deep-throating my own dad in the front seat of his Lexus. The hair of his fat nuts scratching my teen cheek as I suckled his manhood and tried to make him ejaculate.

After nearly eighteen minutes of intense sucking, my dad's whole body tensed up and I knew he was going to cum. He remained silent but held my head as to not let me up. He wanted to be sure I wouldn't pull off. My dad wanted to cum in my throat. He held me all the way down on him while he gave a couple of final thrusts and then I could taste his tangy and hot semen spurt across my tonsils and run down my throat. My dad was in me again, fully copulating and feeding me some more of his seed.

He let me suck and clean him up with my tongue until he was flaccid once again. I sat up and he zipped up. Nothing was said. Dad started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. He looked at me and our silence was broken as he softly said, "You got some cum on your chin..."

I wiped off the glop and could see he watched peripherally as I ate it off my fingers. We drove about a half mile in the opposite direction of our house, when I asked, "Where are we going?"

"You have a movie to make," was all he said.

Later that night, dad and I got in just eighteen minutes before my mother. We'd gone to an office downtown and met the man who produced and directed underground gangbang videos. Although his bread and butter were straight gangbang porn, MASSIVE all-male gangbangs were his specialty. He was really interested in seeing some of the Super Bowl footage. He was blown away by the footage and signed me immediately to a six-video contract. But then I had to show the man how good I was in person. My dad excused himself and went to the drinking fountain down the hall for the eighteen minutes it took to blow the man. The first planned video was to be set in Las Vegas the following week, in the Convention Center men's rooms. I'd be expected to suck off 500 cocks in a two-video set.

Later that night, I was flying on high and after dinner got on the phone with Jim.

"Hey, Jim, how's it hanging?" I said.

"Really good, buddy, " he replied, still doing some homework but slowly jacking his dick through his sweat shorts "Although I could use your mouth here."

"I'll do you before class tomorrow...” I said.

"So, how'd it go?" he asked.

"Went to see Dack and he went through all the motions...he ought to be an actor instead of a producer" I said, "I'll be doing the Vegas 500 cum load thing next week as planned... dad doesn't know it's the second of the movies with Dack already..."

"He got the box?” Jim said in hushed tones.

"Right on time...in his office," I replied.

"Good," Jim said, "so we owe Bob five hundred bucks then."

"I got the cash here." I said.

"Your dad freak when he saw the tapes?" Jim asked.

"At first ...he even picked me up at school early, man! But then he got mighty agreeable", I said. "He'll be cool with all of it in a few weeks."

"Well, those tapes are selling really well, " Jim stated in a business-like way, "...I looked and we've netted ninety K just in this first month of sales...seems guys get off on the whole football thing...shit, maybe they're looking to see if they're in it!"

"Nothing like sports fan,” I added.

Jim started laughing, "Man, I got a rod just thinking about it! See, buddy, stick with me! I tell ya, my plans never fail!"