Gay Erotic Stories

My name is Adam West. I live in a country area of Victoria, Australia. From an early age I have played Aussie rules football. My dad was a local footy hero, but even though I am clearly one of the best under 19s in the league I haven’t really come close to filling his shoes. He played professionally in the national league for three-four seasons until he fucked up his knee. He is resentful for this and pushes me to be as good as he was. Being typical Aussie jocks, nudity doesn’t faze us: we both get around just in our jocks/jockstraps most of the time. Anyone else would think that he is hot: he still keeps in shape and isn’t afraid to show it off to anyone who wants to see. I have developed an attraction towards men since I was fourteen but have never had a chance to act on that attraction. I am about 180cm tall and weigh about 70kgs. I have been skinny all my life but have just recently started to put a bit of muscle on. I have short dirty-blonde hair that I leave deliberately messy. My cock is about 16cm when hard and about 10cm when soft. I am a fairly hairless guy except for the trimmed patch around my cock and an increasingly hairy ass crack. My mum left my dad and me when I was very young and he has raised me ever since. I have no intention of telling Dad about my desire for men: it would destroy him. He is very much a man’s man and vocal about his dislike of “bloody poofs.” Even though he is the only one who raised me, we don’t get along very well unless we are watching a footy game on TV. Our passion for the game is the only thing we seem to have in common. We disagree on most issues; he is very closed minded and apathetic to others. That is why I can’t let him know I like men. The game of Aussie rules is a gay man’s dream: Big athletic men in small, tight shorts and sleeveless jumpers tackling each other. Just watching a game can get me on a huge boner. The only down side is that it is full of mostly homophobic men. Even still there’s nothing like the look of a footy player. Tall, muscled but lean, energetic and strong. Heaven in a jockstrap. Every time after a game or practice I found myself increasingly attracted to my teammates as we would shower and muck around naked together. A great thing about Australian culture, particularly its men, is the lack of shame about being naked. Straight after a game or practice we all will strip off and walk around naked for about half an hour, then we’ll have a shower. It is sort of an unwritten rule that everyone at our post-game meetings will be naked, even Coach Fisher. I don’t remember the last footy get-together where a group of players haven’t stripped off and did a few naked laps around the oval. I have never had trouble about getting a hard-on around these guys; we have been mates since we were young and I don’t find them attractive, just their bodies. I have good control and have never been caught with a woody. Now that we are up to date my story can begin. Having turned 18 during the year with the other members of my team this would be our last year in juniors. I had been playing extra hard trying to catch the eye of anyone scouting for a national team. One afternoon after the second last game of the year as I had just stripped down to my jock strap when coach Fisher called me into his office. I made my way through the mass of near-naked still muddy men, patting a few on the ass saying “good game, mate” Inside the office standing next to coach Fisher was one of my dad’s old footy mates, Shane “Stubby” Bolton. My heart started to pound as I remembered that he was a coach for an interstate team. They weren’t in the AFL (Australian Football League) but they were a definite step up. My dick went half hard, partly because of what he was about to say, partly because of the bulges I could see under his tight fitting t-shirt, but mostly because of the bulge in his little white footy shorts. The jock strap I was wearing left nothing to the imagination; I shifted uncomfortably. He stood up straight as if pushing his package in my direction. He was a bit taller than me but one of his arms was as thick as my legs. HE WAS HUGE. He was probably about 45 years old, about 7 years older than my dad. Despite his age his body looked like it was still in its prime, no visible signs of age. A tuft of chest hair was poking out above his collar, while a whole forest was creeping down out of his bulging shorts. He began by telling me that he had been watching me for some time and that he believed I was good enough to earn a place training with his team over the summer, with the possibility of a contract at the end. I didn’t know what to say. “Unreal,” I said as I took a step forward to shake his hand. He pulled me closer with his tight grip and patted me on the back. My throbbing jock pouch pressed against his firm thigh. He didn’t react so I guess he hadn’t noticed. After a few moments he patted me on my bare ass and lessened his grip on me so I stood back to where I was. If I weren’t so happy I would have died from embarrassment. He told me that he wanted to catch up with my Dad while he was in town and that he would bring the paperwork by the house that night. I left Fisher’s office and walked back to into the change room. Most of the guys were already in the shower. I walked over to the bench in front of my locker and sat down. From my spot I could see most of the guys in the communal showers. Big Mike was at his pranks again, walking around trying to pinch an ass hair from some of the guys’ cracks. Don’t laugh: it hurts more than you might think. I waited for my cock to die down a bit before standing up, stripping off my jock and finding a shower away from Big Mike. Word got out that I had been picked for the training squad; most of the guys gave me a handshake or a pat on the ass. After my good news and our rare win that day the team was pumped. Coach Fisher came into the locker room with a slab of beer under each arm, only enough for about two each but we were rapt anyway. Having an away game the next week this was our last home game of the year. For all of us it was our last home game as juniors. We all sang the team song a few times and generally mucked around. Fisher stripped off and joined in the celebrations. Big Mike had tried to get to pinch of Coach Fisher but coach was too fast and wrestled Mike to the ground. We all stood around cheering as these too naked men wrestled on the shower floor. After a few quick moves, Fisher had gotten Mike belly down on the floor, his knee keeping Mike from getting back up. Fisher moved his hand down to Mike’s ass and grabbed a bunch of his hairs. Mike yelled out “Mercy!” just as Fisher was about to pull. Fisher stood up, “That’ll teach ya, bitch!” he said jokingly. The guys all laughed. Fisher went over to a free showerhead and started to wash. Mike found a place next to him and they stood around joking some more. Meanwhile most guys went back to a free head; some waited for one to be free and a few more shared one between two. I stood there washing mud off my body with soap. I felt my cock stiffen as my mind wondered back to Stubby; sorry: my new Coach Bolton. Thinking about the way his body rippled as he moved; the thick layer of hair, unfairly hidden under his tight t-shirt; the firmness of his handshake; the congratulatory pat on my exposed cheek; the bulge in his shorts, just inches away from my semi-hard cock. I started to daydream until the sharp pain of a bunch off my crack hair being pulled out snapped me back to real life. I stayed at the footy club long enough to watch the seniors play. Just before half-time I saw Dad on the other side of the oval heading for his car. Stubby was walking next to him. Dad grabbed his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the car. Both the men got into the car and drove off. They hadn’t seen each other for about 5 years so I guess they had some catching up to do. I couldn’t get Stubby out of my head. The siren blew; we were behind by a couple of goals; not good considering how good the team was. After the game I said goodbye to some of my mates and went to my car. On my way home the bumps on the dirt road made my cock begin to swell. I needed to jack off soon. As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed the back porch light was on. The men must have been having a barbeque, I thought. It was getting dark; nearly dinnertime and I was hungry again. Entering the house I took my gear bag off my shoulder and unzipped it. I reached in, grabbed out my dirty clothes and was about to throw them in the laundry when I heard dad yell out to me from the back porch. I opened the glass sliding door and peeked my head out to see what he wanted. Both Dad and Stubby were sitting chest deep in the bubbling water of our spa. “Get us a can, can ya?” Dad said with a slur to his words. “Me, too!” added Stubby. “Grab yourself one if you like, son,” dad said as I ducked back in the house. I grabbed three cans plus my footy clothes and walked back to the porch. I walked over to the spa and bent down so Dad could grab a can from out of my full arms. Stubs stood up a bit and leaned over to grab his. He stood up just high enough for me to see that he was naked. He had a wild mat of hair that covered his developed chest, his nipples hard in the cool chill of the air. His hair seemed isolated just to his huge pecs, save for a thick snail trail that led my eyes down into the bubbling water. He had a deep tan on his shoulders and arms. As I scanned my eyes over him I noticed that his tan didn’t stop at his waist. “Well aren’t you going to jump in?” Dad brought me back to reality. “Yeah, I guess so,” I said. Preparing to take my gear off, I remembered the earlier incident in Fisher’s office. Not wanting to embarrass myself I said, “I’ll just put my bathers on.” Turning to leave, I heard Stubs say, “What are ya, a woman? We’re all men here.” That being all the encouragement I needed, I put down my footy gear, took off my clothes and quickly stepped into the concealing bubbles. The spa is only built for two, so having three men, especially one as big as Stubs in it, there was not much room to move. Not wanting to press up against Dad I tended to press my legs against Stubs. After we had finished our beers, my fifth for the day, we all sat around and waited for someone to get out and get another round. The night had become cold so no one wanted to get out. Finally Dad offered to get them. He stood up out of the water and walked into the house. While he was in the house the phone rang, after finding out who was on the other line he yelled out, “It’s work; I’ll be a while.” Stubs and I talked for a bit about my playing for his team. He said instead of finding a place of my own that I could stay with him and another new player. He went on about how I would be a good player, like my Dad, under the right training and if I was committed. “I must warn you I am a very demanding coach. Whatever I say goes. I train my men hard, so you better not be a pussy and you better not be disrespectful to me or any of the other coaches.” He had started to get really worked up about it so I tried to turn the conversation to him. “How did ya get that nick name, Stubby?” “Long story, but one I’ll keep to myself for now.” “Does Dad know?” “He sure does, but he wont tell you.” After about fifteen minutes of talking, Dad still hadn’t returned. After a noticeable lull in the conversation, Stubs stood up quickly. “I need another fucking can; you want one too?” he asked. “Sure.” As he lifted himself out of the water I could see more of his masculine body. He had his back to me by the time he was out far enough to be able to see his cock. Even so I didn’t complain: his ass was unbelievable, perfected over a lifetime of pumping weights and playing football. Water ran off his back and down over his huge firm ass, coming together to form a stream that forced itself down through his inviting crack. The tan that I saw before covered his whole body. His legs were as strong and thick as tree trunks. As I moved my eyes up them I could see the hairs become darker and thicker. His cheeks were dusted with a sprinkle of these manly hairs. I could do nothing else but stare, trying desperately to savour the sight for later. The muscles on his back stretched and contracted as he stepped out and made himself upright, his feet spaced apart. He took a step forward and bent at his knees and waist. He was grabbing an empty can from the floor but I didn’t care about that. As he bent more and more at the waist his cheeks began to part, his crack widening. I could see the light brown hair that laced the gorge. His cheeks parted more. Water still dripped down his lower back and through the nest of hair. His hairy balls dipped into view. My cock grew hard. At the perfect moment, just before he began to straighten up, his cheeks parted more. I could see a dark spot between the two sides of matted hair. His hole contracted as a cold drop of water ran itself across it. Then the gap began to close; he stood up and walked inside, his cheeks bobbing up and down as he walked away. I sat there breathless. I heard Stubs ask Dad where the toilet was. I knew this was my chance. Standing up a bit I looked around to see where his clothes were: His shorts and t-shirt were draped over one of the decking chairs; I couldn’t see any underwear. My heart deflated: maybe he didn’t wear any. As I went to sit back down I saw a crumpled up jockstrap, which had been flung against the wall. I leant over the end of the edge of the spa and grabbed it. Taking it into my hands my cock began to grow; it needed relief. It was the same brand as my jock, which sat a few metres away in my pile of dirty clothes. The pouch of the jock had many stains on it, built up over many years. I sniffed at it; my balls began to tighten. I heard the toilet flush; he would be back soon. Without thinking I quickly jumped up and over to my dirty clothes. Grabbing my jock I flung it to where his once sat. Quickly stashing his jock in my clothes I jumped back into the water. He came out unaware of what I had just done. He had a towel around his waist; water glistened over the expanse of his chest. His biceps bulged and his six-pack flexed as he breathed in and out. His package pressed against the soft fabric of the towel. A mound, bigger than when I saw it in the coach’s office. He said that he had to go back to Melbourne to catch a plane home. He grabbed his clothes, picking up my jock without hesitation. After his shower he came out to the porch fully clothed. Dad was still on the phone and he needed a lift back to the oval to pick up his hired car. “I’ll just get changed,” I said. I stood up out of the water, wanting him to see my manhood as much as I wanted to see his. Still half-hard, I looked a lot bigger than usual. “Gee, they breed them big in the country don’t they?” he joked. “Fuckin’ oath,” I replied grabbing my cock and balls, giving them a squeeze. While not huge in any way, usually, that was my standard response to anyone who commented on my size. It didn’t happen often. Stubs laughed, “But they breed them bigger where I come from.” I got my clothes, including his jockstrap; I made my way to my bedroom. I felt daring so I put on his jockstrap under my clothes. He wasn’t lying: although we were the same waist size, the pouch of his jockstrap was stretched and warped. After getting dressed I grabbed my keys, called for Stubs and got into my car. On the ride over he asked me if I had a girlfriend. I told him I hadn’t. He asked me if I had fucked a girl. Not one to lie, I told him I hadn’t. He was shocked. “A guy with a body like yours and a cock that big should be racking the girls in. You aren’t gay, are you?” The question shocked me. I told him no and tried to laugh off the embarrassing question. We had made it to the oval, so I pulled over. He placed his hand on my thigh; my muscle flinched and then relaxed. He looked over to me and began to stroke my leg. He was staring at me. My heart was pounding; I couldn’t look him in the eye. He slid his manly hands up the inside of my legs. My cock grew hard in seconds: after the day that I had had, my balls pulled themselves up close to my body. He took his hand off my leg and placed it firmly on the bulge in my shorts. I let out a gasp. He slowly gripped with his hand and then let me go. He repeated this as my gasps became louder and more frequent. He started to grab at my pulsing package with more firmness. I still couldn’t look over to him; I stared out of the window into the night sky. He slipped his hand down under the waistband of my shorts, keeping his hand above his jockstrap that I was wearing. He rubbed the pouch of the jock slowly but firmly with his strong, workingman’s hands. Without even thinking I told him to go faster. “Don’t tell me what to do, you little runt; I’m the fucking coach, not you.” He blasted at me; spittle from his mouth flew into the side of my face. I cowered away from him. Despite what he had said he did begin to stroke harder. I couldn’t take it; my breath became deeper and more rapid. I closed my eyes as I felt the pressure in my balls build up. “Ohh fuck!” I yelled as I began to shoot. My juices quickly filled up the jock, soaking through the fabric and onto coach’s hand. After ten hot streams of cum had left my cock I opened my eyes. Coach took his hand from my shorts. I looked him in the eyes for the first time. His face was full of rage. Grabbing my deflated package, he squeezed until I yelled out in pain. “Listen you runt, don’t you lie to me and whatever you do don’t fuckin’ steal from me. You don’t want me pissed off. Got it, boy?” His face was red, a vein on his forehead throbbed. He let go of me and brought his hand to my face. I had tears in my eyes. Looking down I saw a huge stain of my cum soaked through my shorts. He wiped his hand on my face, removing the cum. My balls still ached. He opened the door and got out. Slamming the door, he left me sitting alone, cum wiped all over my face and a pool forming on top of my shorts. I wiped a tear from my eye. What had just happened? My cock began to rise again. I moved my hand down there and grabbed it. What was happening to me? I was just totally degraded and humiliated, by the coach whom I was to live with all summer. I began to stroke myself as I heard his car leave the car park. END OF PART ONE Feel free to email me at inmyjockstrap@hotmail.com if you have any copies. I have every intention of continuing with his story, so if you have any ideas, or would like to be a character in the next part send me an email. This is my first story and am only 18 myself so any pointers would be much appreciated.