The 69ers

Me and Jack, sprawled out, beers fuckin’ warm
TV blarin’ the game, teams in a storm.
His redneck squad sucked, I let him know
“Your boys eat shit,” I sneered real slow.
He fired back, “Yours blow dick, you prick,”
Two loudmouths itchin’ for a kick.

Score went south, we lost our damn minds
“Fuck your team!”—then fists crossed lines.
I shoved his ass, he yanked my gut
Tumbled hard, two bulls in a rut.
Shirt tore off, his pants split wide
Cock flopped out, no place to hide.

And we rolled, fuckin’ rolled, balls to the wall
From screamin’ to suckin’ in a sweaty free-fall.
Sixty-niners now, chuggin’ dick for the win
Ass in face, full-on sin.

Pinned him down, he grabbed my junk
Ripped my briefs, that hairy punk.
Next thing I know, we’re flipped head-to-toe
Mouth on meat, givin’ it a go.
His nuts in my nose, my rod down his throat
Slurpin’ loud, no fuckin’ remote.

Game kept screamin’, crowd goin’ nuts
But we’re garglin’ sacks, lovin’ the ruts.
Red and blue? Fuck that noise
Swapped team pride for sweaty boys.
Pounding flesh, a grunting cheer
Sixty-niners bangin’ right here.

And we rolled, fuckin’ rolled, balls to the wall
From screamin’ to suckin’ in a sweaty free-fall.
Sixty-niners now, chuggin’ dick for the win
Ass in face, full-on sin.

Buzzer rang, we’re drenched and raw
Cum-streaked chins, sprawled on the floor.
“Team’s us now,” he spat with a grin
I coughed and smirked, “Fuck yeah, begin.”
Two shit-talkers, one nasty climb
Sixty-niners locked, ‘til the end of time.