Gay Erotic Stories

Finally I was a senior. Hot shit, to say the least. Regretfully our wrestling team had failed to win a state championship during my stay at the university. Frankly, I thought it was because we never had consistent coaching. This would be the fourth coach in as many years.

There we were, all gathered once again in the practice room waiting to meet our new coach. There were only twelve on the team this year. Some of the juniors and sophomores had dropped off, while we had an over abundance of freshmen this year. As usual we were all horsing around when the new coach walked in.

“Men, I am your new coach. My job as I understand it from the alumni association, it to make winners out of this team. This will be my objective. We will do whatever is necessary to win, rather it be to cheat, steal, or otherwise snooker the opposing team,” declared the coach, who was about 30 years old or so.

Man, my kind of guy! I love to cheat!

“Now then men, the school has a new policy. All participants in sports must have a physical exam. The senior hospital doctor will be here in about fifteen minutes. I want you all to hit the showers, get cleaned up, and return to the practice room buck naked and prepared for your exam. Move!” shouted the coach, as he clapped his hands several times.

The team headed to the showers to get cleaned up. Several of the freshmen were concerned about the physical exam, perhaps never having had one before. I told them it was no big deal.

Following the coach’s instructions, the team reassembled in the practice room lined up against the wall. The Doctor had arrived and unpacked the necessary instruments to perform the examinations. Coach held the clipboard to record any remarks made by the Doctor.

The Doctor did all the routine stuff, starting with eyes, ears, nose, etc. Using a stethoscope, the Doctor listened to each man’s heart and lungs. One of the freshmen actually had a heart murmur, which the Doc said was probably okay. I smelled liability here, having taken several law courses the previous year.

“I’m ready for the hernia check coach,” said the Doc.

“Okay men, as the Doctor comes by, step forward, turn your head, and cough!” commanded the coach. One by one, each man stepped forward. The Doctor examined each man’s penis and testicles, ending with the dreaded hernia check. The freshman next to me actually got a hard on, apparently just thinking about the procedure.

When the Doc came to me, I stepped forward as instructed. It was over within sixty seconds. He moved onto the next man, although even I admit my dick kind of “moved” when the Doc was examining me.

“I’m ready for the rectal check coach!” said the Doc.

“Okay guys, turn around and bend over!” said the coach, as we all made an about face.

The Doc moved down the line, spreading each man’s crack and inspecting his hole.

“Coach, this man has some nasty inflammation up there! Better keep an eye on this … don’t want any infection”, said the Doc, referring to my previously violated hole.

With the completion of the physical exams, the team was released for the day. Practice would commence the following week.

Actually, we had a pretty good team. The first several weeks, coach showed us some tricks to use on our opponents. We all knew about the “groin squeeze” but no one had heard about what coach described as the “erection” trick. Here’s how it worked: During the course of the match, make every effort to force your opponent into an erection. Do this by constantly rubbing his crotch with your leg, arm, or whatever body part you could. Use your hand if the referee wasn’t looking. The objective was to make your opponent sprout a hard on, which would obviously take on a life of its own thru the skimpy singlet. The theory was that the opponent would be so concerned about his condition, thereby losing focus on the match. That was the time to pounce and prevail.

Coach also encouraged us to use the “groin squeeze” when ever possible. As a team, we even practiced these two procedures, albeit against the rules.

By mid-term, our team was undefeated. Frankly, I couldn’t believe it but I was thrilled that we just might have a winning team in my final year.

I was taking a heavy academic load in my last semester in order to graduate in May. As a result, I started to slack off from my athletic responsibilities. Like I was constantly late for practice. On one occasion, I didn’t even show up. In yet another instance, I purposely disobeyed the coach’s instructions during a critical match with our most feared opponents. Coach had warned us that there would be consequences for misbehavior. I had also learned that coach had spent some time in the military, which would explain why he expected the rules to be followed. Coach was kind of “my way or the high-way.”

Returning from an out of town match on a Friday night, coach told me to report to his office the following morning. I figured he wanted to discipline me for my recent infractions.

I showed up about 10 am the following morning. Coach was at his desk, drinking a cup of coffee. “Parker, I’m very disappointed in your behavior. You have apparently taken it upon yourself to reject the team rules as well as my instruction during the past several weeks. Report to the therapy room for your punishment!” said the coach, barely raising his voice.

As I went to the therapy room, I figured coach would give me a few swats with his wood paddle. Big deal! I was a tough bastard.

I took a seat on the table, waiting for the coach. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. I assumed coach was giving me time to think about my misbehavior and the trouble I’d caused. Finally the coach entered the room, paddle in hand.

“Okay Parker, remove your clothes and prepare for your punishment!” said the coach, slapping the paddle with is hand several times.

I stripped naked and stood before the coach. “Turn around and bend over Parker!” commanded the coach, still slapping the paddle. I obeyed his instruction, but why I don’t know.

Coach gave me five hard swats with the paddle. It actually brought tears to my eyes. I guess I wasn’t the tough bastard I had previously thought. I was sure my butt was beet red from the paddle. Coach had drilled several holes in the paddle, which brings additional pain to the recipient. “I trust you will behave yourself in the future,” said the coach, as he placed the paddle on the nearby cabinet.

“Fuck you coach!” I said, almost involuntarily.

“What!” screamed the coach, “What did you say?” He was pissed.

“Nothing coach,” I responded, still bent over on the table.

“Well, how ‘bout ‘fuck you’ Parker!” said the coach, still screaming as he unzipped his pants, dropped them to the floor, and ripped his shirt off.

Before I knew what was happening, coach had kicked my legs about three feet apart and shoved his dick up my ass. “Take that Parker!” screamed the coach, as he continued humping my hole. “You like that, don’t you Parker!” said the coach, still pumping away. I didn’t respond. I could feel the coach’s dick sliding in and out of my hole. My own dick was getting hard. The coach’s penetration of my hole was nothing like the previous coach, whose massive member had practically paralyzed me. Finally, I felt several bursts of fluid penetrate my canal, as the coach grunted like someone who had just discovered the alternative function of his penis.

Coach withdrew his limp dick and leaned up against the cabinet, arms positioned across his chest as if he was the heavy weight champion of all time. “Get dressed Parker, and get the fuck out of here!” said the coach. I turned around and started laughing.

“What are you laughing at Parker,” demanded the coach.

“You call that pathetic thing a dick?” I said, noting it’s flaccid state was about one inch long and no more round than a penny. I still had an erection.

“It’s all I’ve got you bastard!” retorted the coach, “What! You don’t think I can take that weapon of yours?”

“Well, let’s just see!” I said, shoving the coach against the table. He was a willing victim. I shoved my dick squarely up his ass, giving him a taste of his own medicine. The coach was begging for more. Obviously he was a pervert. After about ten minutes of violating his hole, I produced a sufficient amount of cum that oozed out of his hole, dripping on the floor. I was still hard when I withdrew.

“There!” I said, “Now you know what a real man feels like!”

“Fuck you Parker!” said the coach, “Get the fuck out of here,” as he limped over the retrieve his clothes.

That was the last I saw of my coach. We had a substitute coach for the final competitive match of the year, which we won handily. Because our team was so far ahead in the standings, no team could catch us regardless of any playoff results. Accordingly, our team was crowned state wrestling champions.

As the end of the semester approached, my attention was squarely on obtaining employment after graduation. With a major in education and a minor in political science, I snagged a job at a small college. I would teach several classes in poly sci as well as coach the wrestling team. Prior to taking the job, I made sure the alumni association had no power over the athletic program.

Just for drill, I practiced my opening remarks to the wrestling team. “Men, it’s time for a personal strength assessment. Get naked and report to my office for examination!” This was going to be sweet!

This ends Parker’s four-year adventure in college. I hope you enjoyed the series!