Gay Erotic Stories

There is a prologue to the story and it is important towards understanding how I opened myself to a relationship with a man. Other kids at school did not welcome me until I started playing football in the eighth grade. My family was poor and lower class. Without money you’re nobody in grade school, it’s all about what your parents can buy for you.

My life changed the summer I joined the High football team. Surprisingly, I was good, actually very good. I had the right combination of size, speed, coordination, intelligence, and mean-spiritedness to excel at a game in which most boys have none of the above skills at the young age of 14 or 15. I was maturing early and my Coach took notice. Coach Burnette was a Texas boy right out of college. While he had played the game his whole life, he had no idea how to coach a football team. He was a successful college player at the University of Houston and he was willing to take the meager salary they offered.

Coach Burnette was the loud, obnoxious type of Texan that would scratch his balls anytime or anywhere. To me his uncouth vulgarities were the manliest of traits. He did all the things you weren’t supposed to do, and just laugh at his own impropriety. On top of that his physical presence was like a mountain walking into the room. I liked him instantly. But he wasn’t the best-looking man I’ve ever seen. His face was plain with brown hair and brown eyes. His teeth were crooked and he spoke like the Short Bus recently dropped him off at school.

What he lacked above the neck was over compensated for below it. He had the shape of a bodybuilder and a stunning thickness to his body. He was hard as a rock. Coach Burnette was 6’6” tall and around 280 pounds. His body amazed me and the other boys in school. He lacked perfect definition, but it didn’t matter. I began to want to be just like him and with him all the time. He was oddly unimpressed by his own body. I think he was accustomed to the much larger men on his college team, and dismissed our praise as uneducated boys. I didn’t realize then what difference steroids could make in a man his age (about 23). I watched him work out everyday. He wore just loose-fitting gym shorts in the weight training area. If he didn’t have to be somewhere else, then he would be there pumping iron. He taught me all the basics of weight training. I remember his huge chest pumping ungodly amounts of weight on the bench press, the bar bending on each end. It would take three of us boys to spot him on any exercise. I always jumped in to help him on squats. As he would bend down, his heavy dick would sometimes slide out the worn leg hole of his shorts.

I wanted to touch his big dick. He would wrestle with me sometimes allowing me actual touching of his cock and balls. But it would just be messing around to him. He could pin me anytime. Hell he could of held me down and fucked my ass if he wanted and there would have been no way for me to stop him. Even though playing football made him completely comfortable with close physical and even genital contact with other men, he was as straight as a man could be. Good thing for him. Women are far more forgiving of a lack of good looks then gay men are.

He was gregarious and could do the most embarrassing things without the slightness care. He made me feel accepted, and it was a feeling that I had never experienced before with a grown man. I was attracted to him. I fantasized about his massive body. I wanted my body to be like his and to be next to his.

He dated my oldest sister’s roommate and therefore got to know my family. He initiated a close relationship with me. Something my father had never done. He told me dirty jokes, gave me beer to drink at the lake and took me fishing, camping and skinning dipping. He made me lift weights every day. And I grew even more ahead of the other boys in my class. I became very popular at school. I was a starting player on the football team, and the Coach treated me special. The guys were jealous, and the girls took notice. It was like a spiritual awakening. Oddly after years of being shunned, getting noticed meant nothing to me. My girlfriend was really happy that I didn’t drop her for a cheerleader, but none of them would have given me a blowjob. The only friends I wanted were the coach and the other boys on the football team that were into weight training. They weren’t popular, but I didn’t care. My best buddies weren’t cool and I learn to really appreciate it. They weren’t assholes like so many boys that age.

He let me ask him really dumb questions about his body and sex. He wasn’t very knowledgeable about either so I guess he understood my curiosity. He told me lots of things that I suppose most men knew. There are two statements I remember. First, that the best sex a guy could get was a blowjob. Second that he personally was proud that his dick was as big as almost any guy he played football with. The main reason I remember the second statement was that we were lying naked on a pontoon in the middle of a lake at like two o’clock in the morning. It was August and the moon was so bright that I could see his cock clearly. I asked him what it was like to have such a huge schlong hanging between his legs. I stared intently at it and I could tell that he was intentionally ignoring my intrusion. I kind of leaned in close and he said I could get a good look, but never touch him. Of course he knew I was fucking my girlfriend, so he would not have realized I had any sexual interest. He just knew that I was already crossing a line, and he wasn’t going to let it go any further.

His thick penis lay heavily across his upper thigh. It was even in thickness from root to head. About five and half inches flaccid, it was perfectly pink in color. Reddish brown pubic hair grew well down the shaft, but was so thin that it did not obscure the viewing. It reminded me of my own cock after it began to relax following my frequent jerk-off sessions. I wanted to touch his cock and stroke him. Looking back, I’m glad that I didn’t. He allowed me a lot of touching of his body understanding my attraction to his huge muscles. But our relationship would have ended badly that night if I had tried anything. The next year Coach Burnette was gone and Coach Johnson took his place. I moved up to the twelfth grade and turned 18 early. Coach Johnson was the opposite of Coach Burnette. He was handsome. Blond hair and bright blue eyes were set off by a deep dark tan. He looked like Warren Beatty; almost too pretty to be a man, but stout enough to pull it off. He was about 5’11’ but looked taller. His body was sizeable but lean. I remember the deep crevices of his abs and chest in spite of large thick arms. His back was a dramatic V. Wide shoulders led to a very narrow waist no more than 32 inches. But he was meaty. His ass bubbled out so round that you had to stare at it. The crack of ass went high into his back with dimples on lower back. He had been a pro Quarterback for the St. Louis Cardinals before being cut his third year. His father was the President and Football Coach of a small state school in southern Louisiana as well as the minister of a large local church. He was bright and articulate, but still carried the swagger of a football coach and a lot of anger. He face was so stern you involuntarily looked away when talking to him. He scared the shit out of everyone at the school. It was a paradox. A face and body you wanted to stare at all day, but an expression that turned you away.

He was distant to every boy on the team, clearly uncomfortable with the job. He stayed in his office much of the time; making it clear that he did not have to directly supervise us to insure our compliance of the rules. You obeyed or else he whipped your ass. Something several guys found out early the hard way. He would paddle them so hard that they would cry openly completely embarrassed. He had his rules and they were not open to discussion. He was openly critical and abusive of poor performers. The school did not allow him to cut players, but it didn’t matter. Small timid and large uncoordinated boys quit right away, then others that weren’t serious about the game, just wanted something to do. Before too long, we were a much smaller more focused football team. And I noticed the difference even at that young age.

The big plus with Coach Johnson was that even though you could not break a rule, if there wasn’t a rule against it, he didn’t give a fuck. Young boys like us quickly figured out that we could do things that our Mothers for sure would frown on, and most of our fathers. We cursed like sailors. We grabbed our dicks and told each other to bite it. We shared stories of petting girls in school. I only listened. I figured my girlfriend didn’t want anyone to know since I hadn’t been asked about any gossip. Anyway, we read stolen Penthouses in the locker room. Even our fathers were not allowed inside. Heck it was the best place to be in town at our age. And he knew it; it was his incentive system to put up with his shit.

He made one very significant rule change upon our first day of practice. Beginning in one week, we must shower following every practice before going home. We could not get in our parent’s car unless we were clean and changed. He sent at letter to our parents explaining that they would have to pick us up later or wait. This was a huge policy rule. We were only boys, embarrassed at being seen in our underwear by each other, much less naked. He didn’t care. In his mind we were football players on his team and we would learn to look presentable. In fact it was a big improvement for several guys I knew didn’t bathe nearly enough. The year before most boys would change into their street clothes before going home, but not all. And none of us took a shower! But he was adamant. We lost about five boys from the team that first day. Only a few boys that were slow to sexually mature stayed. And I think that was actually the point.

He took his shower in his office, which had a bath. He did not linger in the locker room as Coaches did once I was in college. He did occasionally allow himself to be seen in a towel or completely naked. But it was never inappropriate, just needed a towel or something from the equipment cage. We discovered something the first time that he forgot to close the blinds on the window between his office and the locker room. He was stripping down to take a shower and facing the window. His cock was huge. You had to look closely because the window was mirror tinted so that in theory you didn’t need the blinds. If he had looked up he would have seen ten boy’s faces plastered to the window. Unlike his short naked trips out into locker room he wasn’t making any attempt to conceal his pecker. Of course he didn’t know we were watching. He was a good seven thick inches flaccid. With his narrow waist it looked unbelievably big to us boys. He scratched his balls and pulled on his dick. I stopped looking and he shortly went in his shower. The blinds were never open again. He wasn’t going to spy on us to insure that we were behaving. So he didn’t need to look through the window.

Like I said before he considered the locker room our place and no one else’s including him. He would send the trainer to tell us he was coming. And if a boy complained about behavior it had better be a complaint about a rule violation. Because he would curse out and I believe occasionally hit boys that came in whining about harassment. Of course some complaints were borderline. For example, you were not allowed to fight. But some hitting went on and certainly wrestling. But he was smart and could discern when there was a fight and when someone was just being a pussy. We found out that we couldn’t pull much shit over him. The typical punishment was paddling with a large wide wooden paddle. I got paddle once soon after we started the year. A boy I didn’t like called me a Son-of-a-Bitch. Since he wasn’t just fuckin’ with me I punched him square in the nose and he went and told the coach. Coach made us both drop our pants and lean over his desk. He hit the other boy hard and sent him out crying. He hit me but not near as bad. He told me that fighting was against the rules so he had to paddle me but he would have punched him too, so it wasn’t a hard lick. After my many beatings by my father, his paddle hardly registered.

We all missed Coach Burnette. All the guys agreed that he was far more fun. After all he would fart during his pre-game prayer. How could you get cooler than that? We took to being naked in front of each other quickly. Once the initial teasing was over, the guys started playfully horsing around everyday. I was lucky. I had a nice thick four-inch flaccid cock with a sizeable patch of blond hair. Nothing be ashamed of, but not record setting either. I didn’t want attention either way.

Matt had the full sausage. It was thick and long. He was covered in hair from head to head. Even his ass was hairy at 17. And he was proud of it. He was my locker mate so I played along with him without encouraging it. At least two or three times a week he would get a hard-on for some of the guy’s to admire; it was ten inches erect. We measured several times. At least twice that I saw (in exchange for a few bucks) he jerked off when we went on out of town game trips. As his roommate I got to watch for free. He was the back-up player to me. I think he stayed on the team just to show off his dick. I loved looking at his dick, but would never have touched him, just too shy.

He was different though. He played with my ass all the time, and my dick and balls on a regular basis. I had two brothers so I was used to some of these games. I wasn’t assertive enough to reciprocate, but Matt and a couple of other guys knew I wouldn’t whine if they pinched my ass, balls, or a nipple. After a little while, I would push them off me when they rubbed their dicks on me. But not too quickly, I wanted them to do it. It is natural curiosity at that age. Looking back I wish I had did more, but it was a fine line that I didn’t want to cross. Matt and I did jerk-off together a few times. We knew that guys weren’t supposed to do it in front of each other. But I guess you have so much testosterone running through you body at that age the rules are different. I know I was horny all the time. I could have sex with my girl and cum two or three times. But we could only do it about once a week because we would have to wait for her house to be empty or do it in the woods. I could get a blowjob from her sometimes when her sister and Mom were home, but nothing when her Dad was there. And if someone was there she insisted we leave all our clothes on. Just unzip and let her suck it.

Anyway back to Matt, he would initiate jerking off with me if we were alone. He knew I wouldn’t do much in the locker room, but on trips in the hotel he always stripped naked for bed and laid on top the comforter so that we could watch each other. Our legs and arms would touch, but we never grabbed the others dick. He also was my lifting partner. So if we were in the weight training room everyone else had gone home we would jerk off. There was a small room off to the side with a sauna and whirlpool. That way if anyone came we had an explanation for being naked with each other.

We all got hard-ons in the locker room. And most guys tried to hide them. Matt would hammer lock me if he caught me with one, so that the other guys could get a laugh. But I wasn’t ashamed. It happened to everyone. Coach Burnette had told me it happened in the college locker room with twenty-year-old guys, not to worry. Later on I discovered that he was understating by a mile. College football players will do anything in a locker-room. They never wear towels. They carry bars of soap under their dicks to the shower. They get hard-ons in the shower and chase each other down to rub it on their buddies. I think grabbing the other guy’s dick is the standard greeting for college football players in a locker room. Grab ass is the rule of the day. They jerk themselves constantly. I had many a finger shoved up my ass when someone caught me bent over in the shower. They wrestle naked. They don’t give a fuck. They’re heroes at the school and they know it. They go to orgies together, so homophobia isn’t a problem. I watched them hold down three or four trainers in the shower and jerk off on his face. Several times I joined dog piles in the shower in theory to humiliate the guy on the bottom. They were out of control, but back to High School.

My football playing hit a major roadblock when halfway through summer practice my father became very sick. He would barely be able to work most days and would be receiving all kinds of treatment. I went in to see Coach Johnson to tell him I was quitting the team.

I waited until the locker room was empty and knocked on the office door.

“What!” I heard.

“Uh, Coach I have to see you.”

“Now?”

“Yes, sir”

“Okay, come on in and close the door.”

He was standing there in his underwear. He wore bikini briefs back when men in the South all wore traditional briefs or boxers. I guess I stared at them.

“What are you looking at?”

“Your underwear Sir, I’ve never seen any like ‘em.”

“Yeah, the women like them. I’ve separated from my wife, so I’m dating again. What do you want?”

I told him about my Dad, and how I was needed on the farm. His only response was to tell me to wait outside.

I waited for about thirty minutes. I was beginning to get worried. I would be walking home tonight and it was eight miles. At least two hours. I needed to get started. He came out into the locker-room and told me that he had spoken with my parents on the phone. They had agreed to let him bring me home each day after practice. The Trainer would wash my uniform at the school so that my Mom did not have any additional burden from my playing. He told me that I was the best player on the team, and that he wanted me to stay.

I hugged him tight, and said thank you. It was the first time I ever saw a real smile on his face.

For a couple of weeks I waited in the locker room after my shower and he would give me a ride. No problem. But one day my buddy Jerome had some cigarettes and I went to have a smoke. Coach couldn’t find me, and when I returned he was pissed.

“You little fuck-up! I’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes for your sorry ass. Where the fuck have you been?”

I was scared shitless and didn’t dare tell the truth, although he probably guessed.

“Listen you pussy. I want your sorry ass in my office each day after you are showered and changed and wait in the chair by my desk until I drive you home. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir”.

The next day after I was ready I headed to his office. He was once again in the thin briefs. They were the underwear Jim Palmer advertised for Jockey. They clearly displayed his massive cock outlined in the stretched taunt fabric. In fact, they were wet from his incomplete drying following his shower, so even the plump head with piss slit could be easily made out. I looked the other way only to see him clearly in the mirror on the back of the bath door. The seams were tight at his waist and legs, but the material allowed ample room for his genitals between. This pair was originally white. Worn and wet they were almost transparent. I memorized every aspect of his beautiful cock. It ran across his upper leg to a large plump head. It filled the entire space of the underwear at the top of his leg. A prominent vein ran along the side and dimpled the material in its path. I realized that he laid his cock to the side because his balls completely filled the underwear between his legs.

He typically paid me no attention while he dressed. But with each ride home we were getting to know each other. I told him of my life on the farm, and the stress of my father’s illness. He told me of his wife’s departure. He was actually living in the office. He slept upstairs on a bed in the first aid room. His wife had taken all the furniture with her, and he didn’t have the desire or money to replace it. He planned to leave at the end of the year anyway. Once he was dressed he asked me about my day and how practice had gone for me.

Over the next couple of weeks I got comfortable watching him dress after his shower. Each day when I came to his office he would be in his underwear, which wasn’t extraordinary considering I would be coming into his office at about the same time each day. He told me not to bother knocking since he would know it was me. The boys had 15 minutes following practice to ask questions. After that you didn’t bother him if you were smart. Only the most personal matters like my Dad’s illness could be brought up in his office. Only once or twice those first few weeks were we interrupted by another player. He would talk with them as he dressed just as he had me. It had better be good, or they were cursed out and thrown out.

But we developed a less formal relationship; he gave me advice about football and making it to the pros. He knew so much and I was very interested. Football was my ticket off the farm. He understood my dream of making the pros, and didn’t think it was unreasonable. But even though our relationship was getting friendlier, his mood was getting worse. The guys would ask me if he had told me what was wrong. We were 5 and 0. Undefeated and beating other teams badly. We were by far the best in the region, and we were almost last the year before. He was making us the best team around and the newspaper was taking notice. We had beaten a cross-town rival that was picked to be first by 40 points! Most High School teams couldn’t score forty points if there wasn’t a defense on the field. What could be wrong with him?

The divorc--I knew it but did not say anything. It was not my place to share his personal life with the other guys. I noticed that he started getting touchy. As in physically touchy, not overtly but he had never put a hand anywhere near me before and now he would put his arm around my shoulder in his office or truck. I became relaxed with him. It was great to feel so close to him. Understand that teenage boy football players live in constant fear of their coaches, so to be more relaxed with him was significant. But I did everything right on the field. He didn’t praise me but he didn’t have to motivate me either. I wasn’t going to slack off because I thought I could get by with it. I was pleased at his comfortableness with me. He was so handsome and his body was beautiful. I could now look directly at him while his dressed without appearing lustful. I even started walking into his bathroom as he got dressed and talked with him. I would go home and jerk-off thinking about him. Understand that he still intimidated the hell out of me. He could be very mean, and I tried to stay focused on the field at all times so that I didn’t become the focus of his wrath. He was a perfectionist, and brutal when you failed.

One day I twisted my ankle in practice. Nothing severe, but I headed to the locker room early. I showered but just slipped on gym shorts and a T-shirt with no underwear. I wasn’t thinking of anything except the pain in my ankle. Due to the injury I was moving slow but finished about five to ten minutes early. Without realizing the time difference I hobbled into the Coach’s office.

I sat down by the desk and placed the ice-pack back on my ankle. I looked up just as Coach stepped out of his shower. He was toweling off his beautiful body. I could watch in the mirror without being caught so I enjoyed the show. But he stepped into the doorway and clearly realized that I had seen him. A brief look of surprise crossed his face, and then he nonchalantly toweled his hair some more letting me peer up at his body and massive cock. I tried to act more concerned about my ankle than his naked body. But he continued to move my direction in small-undirected steps. Bending, twisting, rubbing he dried various parts of his body. I watched but looked at his face as much as possible. God it was so good to see his awesome body and thick manhood so close to me. It was like a dream. His dick bounced back and forth as he moved around and his low hangers swayed. His hair was so blond that it did not cover the view of his genitals at all. I had never seen such light pubic hair. This incredible view sent spasms down my back and straight to my dick.

He started talking about my ankle. He wrapped his towel and came over to the chair where I was sitting. Oh shit! I’ve got a major hard-on. He couldn’t see it before because it was hidden between my legs. Now it was going be straight in front of him. I started telling him my ankle was better trying to get him back in the bathroom. I put my hands over my gym shorts and pushed it down. Holding my own dick was better than it sticking up right in front of him.

“Let me have a look.” He kneels down in front of me but looks only at my ankle. Since he was looking down at my ankle the whole time, maybe he didn’t see my hard-on.

“It’s okay.” My dick is only getting harder. He is down in front of me wearing only a towel. Even though I want it to go away the stimulation is too strong. He starts to get up and is looking behind himself. I think I may be okay. But he braces himself to push off my good knee. As a former Quarterback, he doesn’t get up and down without some effort. About halfway up he turns back to me, and gets a good look at my hard dick tenting my shorts tight in the sky. He holds his gaze for a moment. Then, he keeps getting up and walks over to the door, and then to the office window. Unaware that he might not be mad, it doesn’t occur to me what he is doing. I am thinking he’s going to take the paddle out and beat the hell out of me, then through me off the team. Of course he had decided on his own strategy sometime after he caught me watching him come out of the shower. After all, I didn’t even warn him I was there. I just kept watching.

He walks back over to me. Standing in front of me I can see his cock is pressing against his towel. I try not to look up. He puts out a hand and lifts my chin even so that I am looking at his midsection. I start to look down again but he grips my chin and holds it tight before letting go. He is standing so close that my knees touch his. But since I am sitting and he is standing, my face is even with his waist. I realize for the first time that in spite of my age I am actually physically larger than he. I am taller by several inches, and my frame is wider and packed with at least twenty pounds more muscle. Which brings me back to his cock, it is right in front of me and I can see it growing under the towel. He stays silent for a while. I am attempting quite unsuccessfully to hide my stiff cock under my hands. But I am not looking away because I don’t want him to walk away. Small droplets of water are running down his body to his towel, which is stretched tightly around him. His abs rise and fall with his strong breathing stretching the skin and making his bellybutton more pronounced. My mouth is so dry. I lick my lips. I want to lick the water off of him. But I am paralyzed with fear. I think he might hit me.

“Did you see something you liked?” His voice is so even it is difficult to discern his intent. But his cock is now snaking its way across his upper thigh giving him away. I had seen it flaccid so many times that I knew for sure he had a massive erection under that towel.

“No sir?” I tried to protest.

“You’re lying,” he teased.

I wait unsure.

“Uh, well, yes sir” what was the use, it was obvious that I got a hard-on watching him, and now he has this monster cock right in my face. He might punch me, or do worse, but lying will only make the beating worse.

I couldn’t move. He put one of his hands on my shoulder and pulled my upper body within a few inches of his waist. With his other hand he undid the cinch in his towel. It fell to the floor and his massive cock arched up his belly. His balls hung unbelievably low. Two golf ball size testicle stretching the skin of his scrotum. He moved his free hand behind my head and gently pulled me closer. My lips touched the base of his cock and parted to wrap around it. I had never had a cock in my mouth, but I had dreamed of this one so many times. I extended my tongue and began to lick the full length of his ten-inch shaft. It felt so good. I didn’t expect the bumpiness of the veins. It had looked so smooth. I felt a rush of adrenaline as I realized that he wasn’t going beat me up and instead wanted me suck his cock. My hands moved almost involuntarily up the back of his thighs and felt his gluts. They are hard, thick and round. His hands are firm on my shoulders and the back of my head as I rise up slightly to get the head of his dick into my mouth. I start trying to deep throat his thick cock. I can’t take all of it, but I was getting at least half.

“Yes, son, yes, just like that, fuck that’s good, just keep it up…” He is speaking in a hushed tone. While everyone should be gone, you never know.

I brought one of my hands around and cup his balls. They look so good that I release his cock from the firm grip of my mouth and lick his balls. He steps forward over the arms of the chair and braces himself against the wall behind me; this allows me to lean back some and really go to work on his balls. I suck them hard pulling them even further away from his body; he is rubbing against me all that he can. I want both off these plump nuts in my mouth at the same time, but they are just too big. I am pulling on his ass to bring cock and balls to my waiting tongue. Unintentionally my hand slips between the thick mounds of his ass. Coach moans.

“Yes, son, work my asshole, suck my cock, do it now!” Coach is getting louder now not caring if someone hears.

“DO IT SON, that’s right lick those balls, rub my asshole…yes FUCK yes!”

I have only one thing to care abou--getting his massive man cock off. I rub his asshole with my fingers as he gyrates his cock against my face. I take the head back in my mouth.

He is gagging me and my ankle is screaming, but I don’t give a shit. I am bathing his cock with my tongue nibbling on the end. With his cock in my mouth, I grab his balls in one hand and stick the middle finger of my other one up his tight asshole. He shouts in ecstasy.

“OH FUCK YEAH, GO DUDE! STICK IT IN MY ASSHOLE. FUCKIN GREAT!”

He reaches down with one hand and grabs the base of his cock. He pumps his thick sausage in and out of my mouth. I am pulling on his balls, and inserting another finger in his ass I start massages his prostate. His cock head swells and his balls retract hard in my hand as his body begs for release. His sphincter contracts tightly on my fingers. He is overdue and there is no stopping it. Thick, juicy white cum flies out his dick and into my mouth. I lick and suck and swallow, but there is too much. The sweet juice lands on my face and in my hair. Coach is in another world as he climaxes. His head is thrown back as he shakes all over. He thrust and thrust and continues to expel his creamy seed on me and in me. Thank god one of his hands is at the base of his cock or he would have driven a hole in the back of my head. I am living a fantasy come true. I stick out my tongue licking his cock and balls as he jerks in spasms of pleasure until he pulls away. He is running his hands through my hair while slowly fucking my waiting mouth.

With his cum all over my face and in my mouth, he kneels down almost sitting in my lap. His arms come up around my neck and he kisses me hard and deep over and over again. He kisses my cheeks and neck licking his own cum off as his goes.

“Nice job young man.”

“Thanks.”

“How many times have you done that before?”

“Never but I’ve thought about it while I jerked-off.”

“Really, I’ve got to hand it to you. Until I saw your hard cock in your shorts I didn’t know for sure. You always seemed so distant. I never thought you even like seeing me in my underwear.”

“Yes, you intimidate me.”

“Of course I do. It’s the job. But let’s get back to that hard cock of yours.”

Coach leans forward again to kiss me. He licks more of his semen from my face and chin. Then moving down he kisses my neck. He moves his knees to the floor in front of me and pulls my shirt over my head. He licks and sucks my hard nipples and his hands move up my legs to my throbbing cock. He pinches and pulls my scrotum and squeezes the base of my cock.

His mouth moves south and his hands begin to tug on the waistband of my shorts. My dick is finally released from its confines.

He takes my entire cock in his mouth at once.

“Oh fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I can’t keep from cursing in front of him.

It feels so good. I have never had a man’s mouth on my cock and it is the best feeling of my life. My tender young cock has no control and I immediately begin to shoot hot juice down his throat. He hungrily eats my cum, but at that age you cum in buckets. It leaks out his mouth and down the sides of my dick. I have wrapped my arms around his head to drive my cock down his throat. My cock is immediately unbearably sensitive and I pull his head up. Kissing him I taste my juice in his mouth. We kissed and hugged each other for a few minutes.

We stand and he helps me out into the locker room. After checking the outer door, he helps me to the shower room. This time I put my school clothes back on.

Back in his office he begins to tell me how what we did would get him fired. I tell him not to worry I really wanted it. He tells me that this must to be only time, we can never do it again. He was hard up, but won’t let it happen again. However as he helps me up to walk out to the car, I hug him, face him and kiss his open mouth. Hesitant he kisses me back. We won’t be leaving for at least another hour.