Even 'Keepers Can Score
Here's my entry for Linkin Monroe's Dobie's March Madness Writing Contest! A star soccer player decides that some celebration is in order after a big win, and another player is just who he wants... (Darn highschoolers, why can't you be old enough for this to be okay on FA?)
Relatively big story for me at 5,000+ words; I had a lot of fun creating it. =-) Hopefully it reads well - and hopefully people enjoy it!
Soccer was king in Marco's hometown. If felt like half the town made the two-hour drive for each of the nearest pro team's home game, or to the state university's home game. Heck, they even made the trip for the women's college team there. Youth teams regularly made deep runs into the regional tournaments, and both public high schools consistently qualified for the boys' and girls' state tournaments, as did one or both of the private high schools, though a little less often. Then, of course, there were the elite clubs that competed in the summer leagues.
The top club in the city, the Ashton Super Stars SC, was so good that even their B squad, which was run as a separate team, often made it to the final four of the regional tournament, and their A squad had almost a 100% college recruitment rate (for those players that weren't already in college). As such, talent came in from one to two hours away, mixing top high school players with college athletes with fit young adults. Players and their families proudly had "A(S^3)C" branded clothes, equipment, car decals, what have you. Other clubs could only try to make "ASS S.C." taunts, as on-field they couldn't do anything.
The Super Stars also had the nicest facility for miles, the crown jewel of which being Pickler Memorial Stadium; it could hold around 18,000 when the goal-line stands were added, with classy locker rooms, a press box, excellent concessions, and several sections of covered seating. Both public high schools used it as their home stadium, and it often hosted tournaments and special events.
That's where Marco was now, standing between the pipes at the north end of PMS's field, watching as his "Scavenger" teammates from East High took a corner kick at the other end of the field. The Doberman didn't exactly look like a soccer player - his strapping body looked more suited to a football field than a soccer pitch - which was why he had self-selected into the goalkeeper position several years ago. What he lacked in quickness he made up for both in reach and in sheer presence on the field - he was excellent at organizing his defenders and intimidating most forwards.
Most.
The corner kick and ensuing scramble had failed to put the ball in the back of the net, and one opposing player had snagged the ball and was tearing down the field at a frightening pace. Damn that jaguar...
It was exactly like the championship match from the summer's regional league: corner kick, opposing defenders too far up as back then, and the deflected ball fell right to Pan's feet again. He was the faster player on the field by far, with or without the ball - people often said he looked like a tiger, his spots blurring together - and he used that to his advantage, kicking the ball forward and racing after it, staring down the exact same Doberman in front of the net.
Pan and Marco had both developed through the Super Stars' youth system; although the two teens lived back-to-back from each other, the boundary line between the East and West High areas passed right along the fence dividing their backyards, meaning they were almost never on the same team, even within the club's youth system. They thus developed a familiar rivalry early on, not helped when they specialized into their roles of forward and 'keeper respectively. The one period where they were on the same team ultimately resulted in their 'frenemy' relationship shifting more toward the enemy side: the summer between freshman and sophomore years, they had both been drawn up to the Super Stars' B squad, taking the team to the quarterfinals when Pan was suddenly promoted to the A squad. The B squad lost their semifinal while the A squad won theirs and then the championships, with the party Pan held at his house the next week not sitting well with his neighbor. The next summer, both squads made it to the final...
**"GOAL!!! Pan Cuellar demonstrating which Ashton team is the A squad with a breakaway late in the first half!"
"AND HE SCORES! The West High Aces draw first blood on a blistering counterattack with eight minutes plus stoppage left in the game! Junior Pan Cuellar with the unassisted goal."**
Marco dejectedly picked the ball out of the back of the net and kicked it toward center field, feeling his ears burn. West hadn't beaten East ONCE in their eight playoff meetings over the past twenty-some years, and the Scavengers hadn't lost in the first round since before Marco had been born. (They'd missed qualifying a couple times, like his freshman year, but the Doberman junior didn't really count that year since there were no seniors and only two juniors on the team then, including a 'keeper that Marco was honestly better than.) But here he was, staring down another 0-1 deficit (and an unprecedended first-round elimination) thanks to the leopard.
Less than six months ago, after Pan had opened the scoring, Marco let in a second just before halftime from one of the A squad's college players home from the summer. One of his East teammates, a wolf named Samuel, drew one back for the B squad to make the score 1-2 early in the second half, only to have that college forward quickly make it 1-3. The score stayed there until the dying moments of the game, B squad getting one more back, but it wasn't enough. Granted, it was expected for the A squad to beat the B squad, but it still wasn't fun to lose.
Back in the present, Marco was kept on his toes as the ball went back and forth across PMS's field, the game opening up as both teams searched for the second goal. Pan lead the attack for the West High Aces while Samuel kept East's offense as charged-up as he could, but the score remained 0-1 as the clock approached and then hit 90:00; out of the corner of his eye, Marco saw the AR signal for two minutes of stoppage time. Okay, we can do this...
A minute or so later, a shot beamed toward the upper-right corner of Marco's net; he leapt, getting just a pawtip to the ball, but enough to send it glancing over the crossbar instead of under.
"Corner kick, West."
The Doberman's heart raced, both from the close call and from the upcoming danger as the two teams crowded into his box. "Josh, cover the far post! Sam, mark number five! Ian, Pat, mark Pan! Yeltsin, on number eight! Keep moving, everyone, don't let your feet get grounded! Someone cover Lyle, he's open! Keep on your toes! COME ON!"
Pan had three men on him, but once the ball had been kicked, he edged his way out from the crowd and jumped, feeling the ball bounce off his head -
"AND HE SCORES! West High doubles their lead off the corner. Junior Pan Cuellar with the header, his second goal of the night, assisted from the corner by Senior DeVon Martin."
Half the crowd was going wild, the other half completely silent. With over half of the stadium (with goal-line stands) full, Pan thought there must have been at least 5,000 cheering him and his teammates on - but, more importantly, he noticed that his second goal so late in the game had broken most of the East players. As the ball came back to the center circle for the restart, he knew he could take advantage of them again. So immediately off the restart, with less than a minute left in stoppage time, he raced forward as the Scavengers kicked the ball between their defenders. He heard Marco yell something from the goalline, seeing the threat, but not soon enough to get his defender's attention; the raccoon looked up barely in time to see Pan bearing down on his. He froze for a split second, letting the jaguar craftily steal the ball from his feet and zip behind him towards Marco's goal.
"A horrible giveaway by East defender Tyler Rosche gives Cuellar a great opportunity here." The jaguar hear a "FUCK YOU, PAN!" beneath the PA as the announcer continued " Great opportunity for a hat-trick here, as no-one's following; the Scavengers have given up, while the Aces apparently think their forward can handle it -" That's exactly what I'm thinking, Marc. "- HE SHOOTS! -"
The ball stayed low, careening toward the lower right; Marco dove, getting a paw under the ball but not sufficiently behind it. It angled up, and he scrambled to get up off the ground, desperate to jump after it if need be. As he turned, the ball ricocheted off the crossbar and beaned him in the face, knocking him off his knees and to the ground as it comfortably bounced into the back netting.
Pan was ecstatic; as good as he was at scoring, it was his first hat-trick ever, and he did a (poorly executed) roundoff-backflip into the corner, where the West bench rushed up to meet him. The crowd's noise only went up as the ref's whistle signaled the end of the game, and from his spot atop shoulders, Pan did a little dance for the spectators, lifting an imaginary top hat off and onto his head multiple times before waving it to the crowd.
Of course, any time the two schools played a game, all the local TV stations were there, and Pan noticed several cameras start exploring the field, looking for interviews. Eventually, when he was put back down on the ground, channel nine got to him for a few quick words, but he noticed they were more focused on the defeated Scavengers and coaches, with a line apparently forming near the humiliated netminder - they would have more chances for post-game interviews from the Aces later in the playoffs, after all. Perfect, the jaguar though as the celebrating West High players made their way to the locker room.
The win, and particularly the hat-trick, had energized him, making him feel alive - making him feel virile. And that third goal had zeroed his mind (and other things) in on Marco.
He slipped out of the celebration and through a door from his current locker room to the service corridor between the two locker rooms - it helped being so familiar with the facility thanks to his time there with Ashton - and waited.
He wanted that Doberman's knot. The tall, buff jaguar looked like he should've been a top, and for the most part he was, with appropriate swagger. But even he liked being on the receiving end sometimes, as long as it was on his terms. Last year, when West's football team had absolutely sucked, he nabbed three of the then-seniors after different losses and played them like fiddles, letting them vent their frustration into him at HIS timbre and rhythm. And he was hoping for similar luck from his stubby-butt neighbor now... Getting reamed seemed like a pretty damn good celebration in his mind.
Marco was one of the last players to trudge off the field, when the Scavengers' coach finally gathered the remainder (Marco, Sam, and the team captain, a cross fox) up and ushered them to their locker room, cutting off interviews. The rest of the team was waiting for them, simply sitting on the benches already in their street clothes and not talking. The coach sighed and simply dismissed everyone, saying they would have a more in-depth look at the game sometime next week. The three stragglers took their turn to just sit and wallow on the locker room benches while the others left. Eventully, Samual and the captain got up.
"Well, I'm getting hungry," the fox said.
"Me too," Sam replied, stretching. "Ready to grab a bite, Marco?"
"Yeah, but you know me," the Doberman answered, turning around to his locker and grabbing his bag. "Gotta have a shower after each game."
"Alright, man," the wolf said, grabbing his bag and walking toward the door with the captain. "Well, I gotta eat something. I guess I'll swing by the diner across the street and then come back to drive you home?"
"Yeah, sure..." Marco replied offhandedly, working his gloves and cleated ankle-boots off.
Once the other two were out in the hallway, the fox asked "He's going to take forever to shower tonight, won't he?"
"His first tournament game for the school ever and he gives up a hat trick? Yeah, he'll be stewing for a while."
"Yeah... only one of the three was his fault, really, and even that's arguable... poor guy."
Back in the locker room, Marco stuffed his gear into his bag and then took off his jersey and shorts; but there he stopped and collapsed back on to the bench, the three goals playing over and over again in his mind. He hardly noticed the sound of a door closing again, much less the oddity of it considering he was the "last one" in the lockers, instead seeing Pan bearing down the field at him, Pan's head poking up from a cluster of bodies, Pan shooting low, almost out of his reach...
"Well hi there, Mark-y-Marc."
Marco's head shot up from his hands to see that demon jaguar sitting pretty on the bench just across from Marco's, gleefully smirking at the defeated Doberman with nothing on but a towel around his waist.
"Where the hell have you come from??" Marco snapped, getting very angry very quickly. "Come to gloat, have you? Four goals in two comprehensive victories, right? Fuck you!!"
Yes, you will. "Aww, is puppy upset? Got some frustration to work out there?" he asked, getting up and walking toward the sitting Doberman - no overtures, all business. "Feeling a little pent up, maybe?"
Marco almost literally jumped to his feet as Pan stopped just in front of him, right in his personal space - not yet noticing the tent in the jaguar's towel. "What the hell are you trying to prove, huh?? Do you get off on grinding people to dust?"
"Well... I do get off on grinding people," Pan purred, and before the Doberman could make sense of that statement, the tiger laid a hand on Marco's abs and dropped to his knees, nuzzling the dog's sheath through his jockstrap.
Marco yelped and tried scrambling backward but got his legs caught by the bench; his knees bent, sitting him down with a thud as his head and upper back slammed into the lockers not far behind. Pan didn't miss a beat, edging forward to keep his muzzle in the Doberman's crotch. The jaguar's other hand pushed a leg open a bit, letting him get his rough tongue to the fabric while Marco was recovering from the knock. The jockstrap consolidated and lifted Marco's ample junk well, allowing Pan to simultaneously get his tongue under the canine's trapped balls and his nose to the waistband; with the entire package in his mouth, he started sucking lightly, savoring the taste of sweat and growing musk.
Marco was still a little dazed from hitting his head as the warmth engulfed his crotch, making his head start to swim for a different reason as the warmth seemed to shoot all throughout his body. Part of his mind told him he was being utterly violated and should knee Pan in the neck immediately; the rest of him was utterly paralyzed, tingling with unfamiliar pleasure. The hands rubbing his stomach and knee, the mouth engulfing his privates in moist, massaging heat, and even the whiskers tickling the insides of his thighs - it was all a first for the Doberman as he felt his doghood push out and start fighting the elastic of his jockstrap.
Smelling and tasting his subject's arousal, Pan released the bulge from his mouth, moving instead to graze the canine's abs with several of his upper teeth, hooking them into the waistband in front of him. He pulled forward and down to open the front of the underwear, and was rewarded as Marco's member peeked into his vision up over his nose, the smell of musk increasing greatly. Marco shuddered as his dick, already starting to leak pre, was exposed to the locker room air, and Pan took the opportunity to stop what his hands had been doing and pull the waistband down just enough so that the annoying undergarment would cause no problems as he took the Doberman's tool alone into his mouth and started sucking again.
Marco gasped as the jaguar's ministrations began afresh, grasping the bench enough to scoot himself forward so he was actually seated on it (instead of having his ass hanging off the back of the bench). Down in Marco's lap, Pan flicked his toungue several times on Marco's tip and began purring as he tasted the Doberman's pre start flowing freely, causing the canine to shudder and mutter "fucking... *ah* cats.... *gu*" as he placed a hand between the jaguar's ears, starting to apply a light pressure.
Oh, you wish, pup, thought Pan, sucking a bit harder on the dogmeat in his mouth, before suddenly feeling a harder push on his head accompanied by a thrust from the hips in front of him, filling his mouth with the Doberman's member. He growled a bit around the growing length, only to get another push/thrust in response, this time jabbing Marco's tip into the jaguar's soft palete. After fighting down a gag, he swallowed, taking the tip into his throat and earning a moan from the canine, who continued pushing and bucking a bit. Well, fine, Pan thought grudgingly, accepting the fact he was deepthroating the canine. As long as I still get your knot. Damn he's long... excellent.
A moment later, though, the jaguar noticed his lips were up against flesh instead of sheath. The hell?? His knot's up already? What is this, his first time? His ass needed that knot, and if Marco was close already, the blowjob needed to end now.
Marco felt Pan stop sucking and start squirming in his lap. He increased the pressure on the back of the jaguar's head to keep it in his crotch, feeling so worked up and ready for release, but after a quick struggled Pan disengaged his maw from the canine's cock and ducked out from under his firm paw. Marco gasped again as his spit-slicked tool was exposed to the cool air again and shuddered, weak in the knees, being so close to climax and yet so denied. While he recovered from being so suddenly left out to dry, the jaguar stoop up and turned around, dropping his towel to the floor and walking toward the showers.
The Doberman, still a bit shakey, pushed himself to his feet, stuttering "Wh-what the hell, P-pan?" As he steadied himself, he saw the feline's tailtip, up at head height, disappear around the corner. "Hey, get back here, asshole!" he yelled, getting pissed again, stomping after the jaguar with his jockstrap still around his thighs and hearing one of the showers turn on. Marco hadn't even considered the possibility of liking other guys before tonight, and he didn't really care right now - that bugger Pan wasn't going to get him that close to orgasm and get away with it.
Marco rounded the corner to the shower area to see the jaguar standing under a shower, his spotted back fur getting soaked slick. He was looking back over his shoulder, leaning against the wall by his temple as both of his hands were busy - one pawing himself off, the other sticking a finger into his tailhole, which was well on display with his tail raised high. "Oh, don't look at me like that, mutt," he teased, "I thought a stud like you would like this. You didn't seriously want to finish in my mouth , did you?" He wedged a second finger into his ass and purred.
Marco crossed the remaining distance in just three strides, grabbing Pan's backside wrist and yanking his hand out of his hole, slamming it against the wall. "Whoa, there!" Pan yelped as the Doberman shoved his forearm against the jaguar's shoulders, thinking he might have bitten off more than he could chew. "Eager much?"
"Damn right," Marco hissed through clenched teeth, lining up his tip to Pan's hole and shoving his member deep in on the first thrust. Pan moaned as his protrate was stimulated, Marco grabbing the jaguar's solid hips and then pulling almost entirely out, taking a step back in the process. With his legs staggered for strength on the wet tile, he yanked the jaguar back onto his cock, shoving his own hips at the sime time. Pan yelped at the force, the canine's knot almost wedging its way in on the second thrust. The jaguar's tail spasmed, bapping the Doberman's muzzle wetly; Marco growled threateningly, and when the tail didn't stop twitching, hit caught it in his mouth and bite down hard, stopping it from moving more. His third powerful thrust bashed his knot in with a wet pop, accompanied by a strangled yowl from the jaguar as his free paw momentarily stopped working over his own arousal.
As Marco began a breakneck rhythm of short, fast thrusts that tugged on the ring holding the tie, Pan resumed jerking himself off, rubbing up his barbs to arouse himself to maximum extent. He had by now mostly given up on determining the pace of this encounter, and was now simply enjoying the fullness in his ass. Barely over a minute into the mating, he felt Marco's rhythm become irregular, his breathing becoming more ragged and his grip on Pan's hips tightening. Good thing I'm already close myself, you quickie... Pan thought, beginning to clench down on Marco's knot, so c'mon, pup, breed me!
A moment later, the Doberman slammed the two sets of muscular hips together, moan-howling past Pan's tail as he began shooting his seed into the jaguar. With the warmth spalshing across his already-stimulated prostate, Pan hit his climax a moment later, his balls releasing his load with explosive force; he painted the tile wall with white goop as he felt Marco continue to thrust into him - slowly now - and spurt cum into his bowels.
Pan's head slumped a bit against the tile as he enjoyed his afterglow while being rocked by the dog's continued slower, wider thrusts. As he started coming back to reality, though, he noticed the Doberman wasn't stopping; in fact, if anything, the canine's thrusts were starting to pick up power again. "Umm... Marc?"
Marco didn't respond, not verbally at least; instead, he paused for a moment to center himself, then gave another huge thrust, accompanied by jerking Pan's hips back into his own with as much strength.
"Holy shit!" Pan yelled as Marco began bucking with gusto again - not nearly as fast as before, but certainly at a respectable breeding pace. Pan was shocked the apparent first-timer was so quickly on round two, and wasn't too keen on a second go of it himself. He was used to a pleasant tingling in his dick and (on the rare occasions he bottomed) his rear after a mating, but thier hypersensitivity afterwards never enticed him to an immediate repeat - and the warmth in his ass was already starting to become a sore, dull burn as Marco's thrusting continued.
Marco - or rather, his body and his breeding drive - wasn't satisfied with the current situation, wanting a better angle for even more power. His hands left Pan's hips momentarily, grabbing the jaguar's quads and hoisting back and up. Still somewhat weak from his own afterglow, Pan yelped as his feet were swept out from under him, causing his head and arms to suddenly slide down the wall until he was essentially horizontal.
With the backward swing of each of Marco's thrusts, Pan's "attachement" to the wall gave a little, his head and arms slipping an inch each time; eventually, he had slipped enough that the next forward thrust actually pushed him down, and a moment later his top end crashed down to the wet tile floor, his face sliding through his past release on the way down the wall.
This was the angle Marco was waiting for; with one arm against the wall where Pan's head had been and the other arm holding up one of Pan's legs, the Doberman slammed home with extra force, mashing the jaguar's face, neck, and shoulders into the wall/floor joint. The feline's ass had taken so much abuse by this point that as Marco pulled back, his knot almost slipped out despite not having shrunk on its own at all. The next time, the knot did come out - and then was shoved right back in the loosened ring. "OOooohhhh, fuck yeah," he crooned through his mouthful of jaguar tail, relishing the feeling "take it, bitch! Damn that feels good..."
It was all too much for Pan at this point. Marco was now free to use long, super-powerful thrusts, and ploughed the feline relentlessly. He was being knot-fucked, talked down to, and unceremoniously crushed into the right angle of wet tile, his own cum smeared on his face, the tip of his tail almost numb - and despite having never even considering the possibility of him being in such a situation before, despite knowing he should be completely humiliated now, he was incredibly turned on by the utter domination. He was already fully erect again, the rush of a new orgasm was building in his loins, spurred on by the repeated spearing his prostate was receiving.
In the back of Marco's mind, he still wasn't sure about doing other guys like this - but he was relishing the surge of power he felt, especially considering who he was wielding it over. It was that last thought that helped send him over the edge again; a well-timed clench as he sank his knot into Pan's ass was the other spark, making him howl (and finally drop Pan's crunched tail) as he released his second load, waves of pleasure rocking his body.
That clench was delayed from when Pan's second climax hit him; his tunnel had been too warn to have the strength for a squeeze otherwise. Pan's second release saw him paint his chest, chin, and face with even more cum than he had shot the first time, and left him utterly exhausted; he went completely limp as he came down from that high, with literally the only things holding him up at that point being Marco's hand on one leg and hips pressing into his own.
Both were left panting for several moments as the shower continued soaking them with water. Finally, Marco pushed himself up off the wall and got both feet solidly under him again. He tried disengaging himself from Pan, but either his knot had swollen even more during his second orgasm or the breather after he was done let the jaguar's ring tighten back up, because at this point he just wasn't coming out. The feline was practically dead, though, with just a dazed, dopey smile on his face, so Marco couldn't get him to his feet to walk back to the lockers. Instead, he just grabbed Pan by his hips and walked backward, dragging the cat across the wet floor with his arms sliding in front of him.
He got back to the benches and stopped, thinking Okay... what now? Samuel would likely be back soon to pick him up, and if he didn't untie from Pan by then...
"Ah, screw it," he said a moment later, grabbing the towel Pan had dropped earlier and starting to dry himself off. He finally slipped his jockstrap off his legs, then got his T-shirt and pants from his bag, though skipping his boxers. Pulling the shirt on over his head was easy; getting his pants on, much less so. After a minute or so of finagling, though, he had pulled his jeans up his legs; he obviously couldn't close the front, as Pan's ass was in the way, but he was able to get the snap above his stubby tail shut snapped so he wouldn't worry about his pants falling down. Next came his boots and his East High lettered jacket; finally, he had to address the jaguar hanging from his groin.
He grabbed one of the cat's legs and turned Pan over, spinning him on his dick, letting out a soft moan in the process. Marco let the leg drop when the jaguar was on his back instead of on his chest, at which point the cat gave a dopey "Hiiii..." up at him. The Doberman just smirked and grabbed the towel again, wiping any remaining cum off Pan's front before picking him up off the floor, hoisting him to his chest so that the cat's chin flopped over one of the dog's shoulders, his arms dangling loosely at his sides and one leg dangling as well, the other held up by one of Marco's hands.
"Time to go, kitty," the Doberman whispered in the Pan's ear, getting a quiet chuckle in response, before slinging his bag over his shoulder and leaving the locker room.
Sam was leaning against the wall next to the locker room entrance, munching on a panini from the diner as he waited for Marco to finish showering. He knew the Doberman would take a while tonight, but he was starting to think he might need to go in and check on the pooch when he heard the locker room door open.
"There you are, Dobie. Was getting worried I might need to come in and fetch y- ...whoooaaa..."
He literally dropped the last quarter of his sandwich as he saw Marco grinning from ear to ear. That on its own was already unexpected, (considering the blowout loss,) but more so was the entirely nude Pan Cuellar attached at the hips to the Doberman. "We have a guest," Marco said simply, though with satisfaction evident in his voice; he walked right past Samuel in the direction of the parking lot, heedless of the stares he was getting from after-game stragglers as he paraded the Aces' star striker down the hall.
"I - uh - well, yeah... I see that..." the wolf stammered, rooted to the spot for a moment before getting control of his legs back and jogging to catch up with Marco. "I, uh... didn't expect either of you two to be gay, dude."
"I kinda doubt I am, actually, though I'm pretty sure he is," Marco said casually, readjusting the dazed, limp jaguar in his arms. "I don't know how "into" guys I am, but he literally snuck into our locker room wearing nothing but a towel and asking to be fucked. Gives good head, too."
"I'll... take your word on that," Sam replied, though inwardly he was wondering if this might be the sign he was waiting for that it would be safe to come out to one of his friends, if Marco was this casual about it; at the very least, he already was feeling a stirring in his own sheath. "Good thing you two live literally back-to-back, huh?"
"Yup."
"Hang on... do you think his family is expecting him or knows what he's up to? Like, are they waiting for him, or are we assuming we'll just drop him off naked on their porch, or something?"
"No clue."