1. Marathon Man


    Date: 10/29/2016, Categories: Fiction, Boys/Teen Female, Cheating, Reluctance, Author: JohnnoAllthwaite, Rating: 75, Source: sexstories.com

    refectory," he said, "The cafe?" he added, "I'm Lionel, chief athletics coach?" "We only meant the blood test," Al said pleading like. "I'm Johnno Allthwaite," I said, "And this is Al," I added, "I always fancied me self as an athlete, keep it up for ages me!" Al laughed and so I got another round in before we went round the bogs for a smoke. Next morning we persuaded old Ted to have a tea break outside the Uni part way round our bin round and we wandered in to find Lionel. "Oh my god!" he whined when he saw us, "You might have tried to look like Athletes," he said. I didn't see his problem, me bright orange coveralls weren't that dirty considering I'd had them on all week, "Find some kit ok?" he said and he showed us the changing room where the blokes from the previous was all kitted up in Adidas and Nike and stood around all nervous like. I found some shorts and I held a towel for Al so that bunch of queers couldn't get a butchers of his tackle, not that there's much to see, he wouldn't make eight inches even if you stuck a rocket up his ass, and he done the same for me. "Ok," Lionel says, "Lose the sock Allthwaite," he says. "What sock," I says. "That's not a sock that's his cock," says Al who was still a bit hung over. "Oh, ah right." he says, "I just hope you two idiots are clean drugs wise!" he says, "Anyway the tester is Mr Graythwaite and you are both studying Sociology, if he asks." "Engineering," I says, "I ain't no shirtlifter!" "No," Al says, "Sociology is what ...
    the dumb blondes do." "So you fucking do it," I said, "I'll be the next Adrian Newry and you can be fucking forgotten." "Gentlemen," Lionel says forgetting himself, "I mean Lads, Sociology and Engineering, its fine," he said because he thought we would be fucking crap at running. They took some blood from us, some bloke in a white coat took blood samples from us and the the blokes from the Flying Horse and some girls who looked real fit in their sports kit, too fit, I like a bit more tit myself, well some tit at least. We stood around afterwards, "I say," one girl tittered, in upper class speak, she was real fit, not fanciable but a six pack, almost flat chested you know but I wouldn't kick her out of bed if I was short of the price of a tart, "The old sock down the shorts thing is so passe!" "That's no sock," I said. "Really?" she said, "Show me!" "No way Johnno!" Al cautioned, "Hey some of these jokers are on sports scholarships and that," Johnno said, "Could be a nice little earner." We had to fuck off, Ted was playing the Titanic theme on the Dustcart's horn so we got stuck in and was finished by dinner. She was called Suzanne, it turned out, and there we were ready for Ilkley Marathon. "Where the fuck does it say we can't run in a fucking council boiler suit?" I asked. "Don't be a prat all your life Allthwaite," this Suzanne bird said, "It's all a big joke to you!" "Some fucking joke," I said, "You fucking watch out, you only got ten minutes head start and the moor's ...
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