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Coach & Me, Part 1

By blindside

submitted January 10, 2003

Categories: Wrestling, Athletics

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As one of the top high school wrestlers in the state, it went without saying that an athletic scholarship would be mine for the asking. Three universities were competing for my talents. And after careful consideration, I made my selection, packed my bags, and headed out for college.

The first week of college was devoted to getting familiarized with the campus, selecting classes, and making some new buddies. Everyone calls me Parker. I really had no interest in academics, but knew I’d have to shape up in order to keep my scholarship. Nevertheless, I tried to select the easiest classes, such that I could devote most of my time to athletics.

It was a Wednesday afternoon, and I was scheduled to meet with the wrestling coach, along with the other freshmen on the team. At precisely 4 pm, there were ten of us gathered in the small gym. We were all horsing around when the coach walked in. He was a young guy, probably about 30, medium height and build.

“Gentlemen” shouted the coach, “I have four rules. Pay attention.” This didn’t sound real good. I wasn’t into rules. “First,” said the coach, “there will be no smoking. Second, there will be no drinking. Third, there will be no sex.” Just what nineteen-year-old guys want to hear. “And that also means no beating off!”

Jesus, I couldn’t wait to hear rule number four.

“And fourth,” screamed the coach, “my name is NOT coach. My name is SIR! Does everyone understand these rules?”

“Yes Sir!” the ten of us said in unison.

“Perfect!” said the coach. Continuing, “Now listen up. Today, I’m going to get you weighed and measured, together with an assessment of your strength. Everyone to the locker room, get naked, and return to the gym. Now!”

I’m not sure this is what I signed up for. Nonetheless, all the guys headed to the locker where we followed the coach’s instructions. One by one we congregated back in the gym, where the coach was waiting for us. First, we were weighed on the scale, with coach carefully recording the results. Next our height was taken, again being recorded on our individual forms.

“OK gentlemen” said the coach, “line up against the wall for a strength assessment!”

Everyone fell into place, where the coach started examining the team. He took chest and waist measurements of all the men, again carefully recording the results. Frankly, I wasn’t sure we had to be completely naked for all this, but wasn’t about to say anything. But finally it appeared this drill was over.

“OK men,” said the coach, “listen up!” God I hope this wasn’t another rule. “Tomorrow we start practice. Pick up your singlet at 4 pm and be ready to wrestle! Now hit the showers and get the hell out of here!”

The next several weeks went reasonably well. Coach was actually a fairly good guy and was learning a lot from his direction. I had been teamed up with a guy from the Midwest. Fortunately I was better than he was, but tried not to be a genuine prick like some of the other members of the team. Coach seemed to like me OK, although he was not one to show favorites.

On Friday of the forth practice week, my partner and I were going at it, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I would pin him. In a twist of fate however, he managed to roll me over, fall directly on my chest, and pin me down. Coach started to count. There was no way I was going to let this happen. Mustering all the strength I had, my upper body jerked my partner off slamming him to the mat. Then it happened. Somehow I had trapped my upper right leg between the mat and my opponent. The pain was awful. Coach could see I was in trouble.

“Stop!” shouted the coach. Bending down, the coach examined my now bruised leg. Coach announced it was probably nothing more than a minor contusion. “Get this man to the therapy room, on the double,” screamed the coach. I never understood why the coach was either shouting or screaming. Two of my teammates picked me up and carried me to a small room, next to the locker room and opposite the coach’s office. They very carefully put me on an exam table. Coach stopped by and told me to sit tight, he would be with me shortly.

I could hear the guys in the locker room showering. Within ten minutes the place was vacant. God my leg hurt. I was hoping coach would have a solution to the pain. Maybe some drugs. Finally, he entered the small room.

“OK Parker,” said the coach, “let’s take a look at this.” He very carefully examined my upper leg, which by now had turned slightly black and blue. “Just needs a little ointment rubbed in,” announced the coach, as if he was some kind of medical wonder boy. Coach went to a medicine cabinet, retrieved a small tube of rubbing ointment, and immediately started to massage my leg. Actually it felt better once the ointment was rubbed in. Coach had enormous strength in his hands.

“Get the singlet off Parker! It’s in my way!” said the coach. “Yes Sir,” I responded, as I removed the singlet, exposing my naked body.

Coach continued to massage my leg, occasionally brushing my balls with his hand. I felt very uncomfortable laid out naked on the table, but at least my leg was not experiencing as much pain. Coach continued to come dangerously close to my manhood, as his hands applied the ointment. I could feel my penis start to twitch somewhat, and tried not to think about getting an erection. It was not to be. Within several minutes, I was sporting a full-fledged hard on. I was truly embarrassed.

“Sorry about the erection Sir,” I said, somewhat apologetically.

“Are you queer Parker?” asked the coach.

“No Sir!” I responded with fear in my eyes.

“Well it looks as if there’s more than one muscle that needs some attention,” said the coach, as if he had just discovered oil in his back yard.

Coach then coated my dick with some ointment and started to masturbate me with his right hand, while his left hand continued to massage my bruised leg. Must admit it felt pretty good. Within five minutes, I announced my intention to cum. Coach kept stroking my dick, ignoring me altogether. I tried to hold back, but couldn’t. There it came, all over my bush, my chest, and the coach’s hand. What a mess!

“OK Parker! That’s all for today! Hit the showers and get the fuck out of here!” said the coach, as he wiped his hand on a towel. “And report to me tomorrow at 4 pm for additional therapy.”

The following day, I reported to the coach’s office on time. It being late on a Saturday, the gym was empty. “OK Parker, get naked and report to the therapy room. You know the drill,” said the coach. “Yes sir!” I responded, hustling to the locker room to remove my clothes.

Once laid out on the table, coach entered the room and immediately examined my leg, which looked a lot better. And while there was still some pain, coach assured me it would be gone by the following week. This was a good thing, since our first match was scheduled for Friday.

Before coach could even start the ointment therapy, my penis stood straight up. At first coach ignored my condition, concentrating on my injured leg, which he worked on for about 10 minutes. I wondered when coach would start the alternative therapy.

“Parker, have you ever had your dick sucked?” asked the coach.

“Ah, no,” I responded, truthfully.

“Well good, you’re in for a treat,” the coach said gleefully, as he grabbed my erection and inserted my throbbing dick into his mouth. God it felt good. I could not believe this was happening to me! What would the other guys think? Had he done this to the whole team? My mind was racing at an accelerated speed.

“You like that Parker?” asked the coach, pausing for a moment.

“Ah, yeah, I mean, yes sir, I guess so,” I said, as the coach resumed the blowjob.

Shortly thereafter I told the coach I was about to cum. My announcement fell on deaf ears, and the coach continued to suck my dick. Finally I blew my load, which the coach devoured every drop. Both of us appeared to be exhausted.

“OK Parker, same time tomorrow. And don’t be late,” said the coach as he left the room.

My leg was fully recovered by the Friday match, which we won handily. Coach continued to give me therapy twice a week for the remainder of the school year. I thought for sure he would ask for something in return, but it never happened.

I guess rule number three didn’t apply to me.


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