badjujuboy

Ok, guys. Here it is. More action this time. Thanks for the past reactions and comments. As I wrote before, the poz theme and writing style was new for me. I'm thinking one more chapter after this to wrap it up. Hope you enjoy. Coach Sanders 4 Next day, Coach told us we were going back to the gym. My gym. The one where it all went down. He’d fed us some clouds before. Not too much. Just enough to get us chasing it. We walked in. Front desk guy nodded. No smile. Just that look like he knew what was coming. We got dressed. Same gear as before. Inside, the usual hum. Plates clanking. Music low. A couple guys glanced over. One lifted his chin, then dropped back into deadlifts. No drama. Just recognition. Coach headed straight to the rack. We followed. “Start with pulls,” Coach said, “Then we build.” I gripped the bar. It was heavier than usual. Realized that was the point. Greg was behind me, counted slow. Coach watched my form. The reps stacked. Breath shortened. Sweat hit the mat. Coach didn’t praise. Didn’t correct. Just nodded once when I racked the bar. Then loaded the next set. Told me rows, then sleds. I dropped into position. Gripped the bar. It moved like it was stuck in cement. Every pull a fight. Nothing smooth. Just grind and breath. The sound of Greg counting slow behind me. We moved to sleds. Then trap bar carries. No breaks. We were soaked through. Gear clinging, see through, stretched tight across our pecs. Tight across our bulges. Just like before. Everything showed. Greg caught one guy staring. Smirked. “Told you,” he muttered, just loud enough for me to hear. “Words out. They'll be lining up for that ass of yours.” Coach didn’t react. Just loaded the next set like none of it mattered. “Last round,” he said. “Make it count.” I dug in. Pushed. Pulled. He watched the final rep. Didn’t nod. Just said, “Enough.” I was cooling down, gear soaked, breath started to settle. Coach was by the door, talking to Jack. The trainer from before. Jack just smiled my way. Pocketed something. Turned to leave. Greg was stretched out next to me, pecs rising slow. Eyes half-closed. He motioned to the presses. Told me I had a fan. I checked it out. Saw him. Mid-thirties, lean build. Not soft. Not bulky. Hair buzzed close, jaw sharp, eyes steady. Hadn’t seen him here before. Schedules probably didn’t mesh. Then he walked over. Looked down at Greg, then back to me. “Looking good,” he said, grabbing my ass. Voice low. No small talk. “I hear you’ve been offering up that ass.” I wiped my face, nodded back. “Yep.” He stepped closer, not crowding. “Let’s go.” I looked at Greg, still cooling down. Now half-asleep on the mat. Coach glanced over. Gave a shrug, like go ahead. We walked past the showers, past the rows of locker. Into the corner where the light was low. The walls didn’t echo too much. He straddled the bench. I pulled off my soaked T-shirt, dropped it on the floor. Stretched out, arms up, abs tight. He sat there. Nodded. Like yeah, he liked it. Next I turned around. Peeled off my tights, slow. Steady. Fabric stuck for a second before sliding down. I stepped out of them, planted my feet. Gave him a better look. Then let him see my ass. Tight. Showed how much work I’d done. Every step, every rep. It was there. “Fuck yeah,” he growled, tossing his gear. Hands spread my ass. “Goddamn.” I smiled, flexed my glutes. “Coach makes me train legs three times a week. Said if I wanted to get attention, I’d need to work on it.” I shifted my stance. Straddled the bench. Bent over. Relaxed, then tightened up my hole. He saw it. Grunted at the shape, depth. Control. Wasn’t showing off. Just let it speak for itself. “Fuck yeah,” he growled behind me, spreading me open with his fingers. Felt the loads Coach and Greg had dumped in me. “Nice sloppy hole.” I pushed back. Told him I needed it. Begged. He growled. Stood. Positioned himself at my hole. I pushed back. “Shit!” I gasped at the size but kept on taking it. I eased myself about halfway. Pulled out. Left the head in me. Then slammed down. Tried to fuck myself with all 9 inches. I craved it. Picked up speed. He didn’t need to do anything. I was doing it all. He just stayed there steadying himself, moaning. Felt my hole wrapped around his shaft. Tight, like a vise. The sound of our grunts filled the empty space. I kept on. My hole needed to be fed. I couldn’t stop. Slammed back into him. Suddenly he took over. Shoved me down on the bench. Started pounding into me. I lay there. Hard cock rubbing against the wooden plank. He reached under me. Grabbed my pecs. Pinched my now swollen nips. Yeah, by this point Coach had done a number on them. Said there’d be no way to hide them. Not that I’d even try now. I yelled out. Tightened up more on his thickening cock. “Goddamn fuck!” he yelled, falling on my sweaty back, and fed my hungry hole with hot load. We stayed there, him on top of me. My still hard cock against my abs underneath. “Damn,” he said, rolling off, and stood. “You’ll be here tomorrow?” “Yeah,” I told him. “A few more days. Then go back to classes. Back to my regular times.” That’s when Greg walked in. Stopped, saw my dripping hole. “You two need a minute?” he joked, interrupting us. I smirked, eyes on the guy’s slimy cock. “Naw. We’re good.” The guy laughed, low and quiet. Then glanced at me, then back at Greg. “Tomorrow. Noon. I wanna hit that again.” I smiled. Fingered my sloppy hole. Pecs twitching. Could feel his eyes on me now. Told him I’d be there. He grabbed his gear. Looked back one last time. “Good. I won’t go so easy on you next time.” Then left. “Yep, definitely a fan,” Greg grinned, straddling the bench behind me. He leaned into my hole. Blew into it. I moaned. Felt his tongue dig into me, lap it up. Fuck! It was still tender from the rut. Finally he slapped my ass, told me to sit up. Wrapped his arms around me. Grabbed my nips. I sat back against his sweaty pecs. Turned my face to his. We kissed. Swapped the load. A few guys had come to the spot by then. One of them, Dan, raised his eyebrows. “Fuck. You keep doing that around here and expect us not to get ideas?” I laughed. Greg grinned. Pulled a couple rigs from his waistband. Said Coach had taken care of it. No interruptions. The room shifted. Energy thick. One by one, the others nodded. No words. Just that look. They wanted in. And we were ready to give it to them. The rest of my break was the same. Work out. Slam. Then loads from anyone who wanted me. School was finally back in session. Crowds, lectures, noise. I couldn’t sit still. Mind kept drifting. Cock. Loads. I needed it. Then I saw him crossing the quad. Solid. Pecs tight in a polo, arms flexed. Could make out the lines from his jockstrap through his shorts. Probably fresh from the gym. Walked like he didn’t care who stared. He looked at me. Held it. He knew. I unzipped my hoodie. Let him see me. No shirt on. Pecs hard. Abs showed when I moved. Legs solid in tight jeans. Bulge popped. He tilted his head toward the library. No words. Just a look. I followed. Close, but not too close. He walked through the main doors. Passed the front desk. Stopped at the stairs. Looked back. Made sure I was there. He nodded. Went down. Basement level. Didn’t slow. Kept moving. Straight down the hall toward the bathroom. Went in. I followed. Let the door swing shut. Locked it. Was just us now. Saw him at the urinal. No sound of piss hitting though. I moved next to him. Eyes down on his cock. Uncut. A handful. He just stood there. Shook his cock. Teased me. Then covered up. “Fucking fag. I knew it,” he growled, grabbing my neck, tight. I froze. Couldn’t breathe. Thought this is it. I’m dead. Then, he smiled, pulling me in for a kiss. “You WERE checking me out a couple of months ago.” It was him! The one who clocked me! We went at it. He tossed his polo. Tossed my hoodie. Hands went over each other’s hairless pecs. Down over ripped abs. Felt each other up. Cocks were hard. I unzipped my jeans. Pulled them down. He pushed me against the sink. Smiled. Saw my jockstrap. Stuck a finger in my hole. Called me a goddamn fucking cumdump. I moaned. Told him I needed a load. Bad. “Fucking show me how bad,” he barked, standing back. Arms up. Hands behind his neck. Pits smooth. Shaved. Fucking cock bulging out his shorts. I tossed my jeans. Dropped to my knees. Looked up. Moaned. Saw his pecs stacked like a shelf. Nips thick, pushed down. Out against the muscle. Abs cut. Obliques flared. Veins running down his arms, thick across his forearms. I was jealous. He stepped closer. Just enough to smell the sweat and musk coming from his crotch. I pulled down his shorts, jockstrap. Freed his cock. Was fucking drooling. I leaned in. Dragged my tongue up his shaved ball sac. Up his shaft. Into his ripe foreskin. Was fucking moaning from the stench hitting my nostrils. Then took him down. “Fuck, dude!” he moaned, pulling me up. Pushed me back towards the sink. “Need to breed that hole!” He kicked my legs apart. Bent me over. Ran his cock up, down my crack. Could feel my hole twitching. I begged for his load. He groaned. Forced his way in. My hands shot out. Grabbed the sink. He bottomed out. I held on. Kept hitting my prostate, hard. Our moans echoed in the tiled room. His cock rammed into me. I whimpered. Told him to fucking breed me. He just laughed. Fucking said I belonged there. In the fucking basement, taking loads all day. Like the fucking cumdump I was. He was right. I did! Was! Coach had seen to it. I’d spent most of break taking loads at the gym. And now I’d just followed this guy. Was getting bred in a public bathroom on campus. He pulled halfway out. Slammed back into me. Could hear him panting. Struggle for breath. His cock pulsed in my hole. He gripped my hips. Pushed in again. Then he said it. Told me he was poz. Said Coach had told him to keep an eye out for me. Been told I’d turned. Was hunting poz loads now. I moaned. Couldn't believe my luck. He kept on. Rammed his cock in me. I begged for his load. Told him Coach had made me a poz cumdump. Always on the hunt. Always ready for a load. That did it! He slammed into me. Coated my hole with his toxic jock load. I fucking loved it! He let go of my hips. Pulled out. I took a breath. Fell to my knees. He smirked. Grabbed my head. Shoved his cock in my mouth. I took it. Wanted to taste his load. My juices. I stayed on him. Cleaned it like usual. Couldn’t get enough. Then he told me was worth the wait. Lots of guys were waiting for the word. Would make sure it got out. Then he stiffened. Moaned, “Bro, I really gotta piss.” I didn’t stop. Just wrapped my lips tighter on the head. Looked up at him. He hesitated. Warned me again. I kept at it. Then his lips curled. Knew what I wanted. His piss. He relaxed. It came spurting out, hot. Into my mouth. I clamped down. Swallowed. He didn’t stop. Pissed like a fucking racehorse. Could taste it in my mouth. On my tongue. Salty. Sharp. I gulped. Then we heard it. Someone trying to get in. We stood still. Piss still going down my throat. Then footsteps went away. The flow slowed. Stopped. He shook the last drops on my tongue. Stepped back. “I’m Todd,” he said, pulling up his jockstrap, shorts. “Ben,” I told him. He put on his polo. Grinned. Said he knew. Walked to the door. Told me get dressed. Wait 5 minutes. I’d see him again. I nodded. Saw him check the hallway. Then leave. I grabbed my clothes. Thought about what happened. I should’ve put them on. Left. But I didn’t. Went to the last stall instead. Sat down. Waited. It didn’t take long. Heard the door open. Footsteps echoed. Stopped. Saw the beat-up work boots under the stall door. Bucket next to him. Janitor. I looked up. His fingers curled on top of the stall door. Then pushed. He was about Coach’s age. Built like he used to be something. Shoulders wide, wrists thick. But the years had softened him. Gut hanging, face worn deep. Silver buzz cut, jaw still sharp. Saw me sitting on the toilet. Nothing on but my jockstrap. His eyes scanned me. Took his time. Could see he was impressed. Then he caught the look in my eye. Saw what I wanted. What I was offering. He parked the bucket, leaned on the mop like it was part of him. Eyes steady, unreadable. Then smirked. Walked in. Said show me what you got. I stood up. Faced the wall. Straddled the bowl. Hands on the wall. He grunted at my sloppy hole. Didn’t mention the obvious mess leaking out. I didn’t have to say it. Just bent my knees. Squatted. Kept my head down. He smacked my ass. Let his cock out. Said, yeah, that’s what I thought. Found me a goddamn fag. Then shoved it in. I gulped. He went deeper. No time, his wiry pubes were scratching at my ass. I’d shaved that morning. Then he started on me. Rough. Hard. Like a fucking rutting pig. I pushed at the wall. Braced myself. Took all of it. “Gonna fucking cream that faggot ass,” he growled, gripping my hips till they hurt. Bruised. I accepted it. The way he talked to me. Told him to do it. Told him to fucking cream my faggot ass. I wanted it. That got him going. He shoved it in to the hilt. I bore down. He pushed in one last time with a grunt. Exploded deep in me. Then pulled out. Told me turn around. Slapped my face with his cock. I didn’t need to be told. I licked off his cum. And Todd’s cum from before. He kept staring at me. Disgusted. Snarled. He turned. Didn’t even close the stall door behind him. Told me I had 5 minutes. Then walked out. I sat there. Hard. Knew I’d be back for more. Was hooked! In between everything going on, I’d kept in touch with Chuck. Just like Coach told me to. We started to meet up at the gym. Talk about Coach. How he’d got me in shape. How he’d pushed me harder than anyone. Chuck leaned in when I talked about the workouts. About what came after. Told him most of it. How Coach turned me into a musclejock. Into a fucking cumdump. Yeah, he’d been there that first time at my gym, so he knew that part. But not the part about how Coach had bumped me. Pozzed me. That I’d ended up begging for it. How he took me to the old gym after. Had been gang banged. That part was Coach’s call. Chuck soaked it up. Said he wanted to be reworked, like me. Started pushing for it harder. Asking more questions. I watched him close from then on. His body started showing the work. Shoulders looked fuller. Pecs had real shape. Arms thicker. Would pop even more smooth. Even the way he moved had more control. More power behind it. And I'd been telling Coach. Honestly I liked it. Spending time with him. Had always wanted a bud to talk about things. Sure, Greg was still around. But he was older. Been around this for years. Had his own plans. Plus, yeah, Chuck was fucking me. So were a few others there. Fucker couldn’t wait to take me in the back post-workout. Hell. I never left without a couple of loads in me. But always gave him first crack. It kept him coming back. He’d watch how I moved. How smooth my body looked. How the sweat rolled off my pumped muscles. Then he’d watch me take cock. Wouldn’t say much. Just leaned against the wall, took it all in. Like he wanted that for himself. We talked about it. Asked him once what he was thinking when I got fucked by the guys there. He smiled. Said he was just watching how much I was into it. And yeah, how much he envied me. Told him he had to try it. Join in. He just looked me over. Said he’d do it, if I fucked him to get things started. Course I laughed. Told him I liked taking it too much. It was true. But yeah couldn’t tell him Coach had other plans for him. Coach brought it up one night months later. Just me and him at his place. Asked how it was going. I grinned. Told him Chuck was locked in. Said he wanted to be built. Was good with the long hours at gym. But even better, was good with the cumdump part. Coach didn’t answer right away. Just watched me. Like he remembered how it started with us. Then asked me if Chuck could handle it. All of it. Said I thought so. Said even if Chuck freaked when he found out the main part, I’d be there to make sure he’d beg for it in the end. Coach just laughed. Fucked me good that night. Made final plans. Next day, Chuck rolled in right on time. Was pulling on my gear. The usual whites. Told him Coach had asked about him. His face shifted. Like he’d been waiting for that. We hit the weights like usual. Chuck was fired up. Said he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Told him to chill. Focus. Chuck nodded. Got under the bar. Hit his reps clean. No talking. Just in the moment. After we cooled down. Stretched out on the mat. Sweat soaked. Told him Coach wanted to talk about getting him set up. And everything that meant, back at his place. Asked if he was sure about it. Chuck sat up. Wiped his face. Smiled. Said let’s go. We went straight back to Coach’s. Door shut behind us. Dropped our bags by the wall. Told Chuck he’d be there once practice was over. I stripped down to my jock. He stood there like he was waiting for a cue. I nodded. Told him to do the same. He paused, then peeled off his shirt. Kicked off his shoes. Dropped his shorts. I grabbed a towel. Wiped down my pecs. Tossed it to him. Told him this was how it started. Coach had got me down to a jockstrap. Chuck didn’t say anything. Just wiped down. Then followed me through the hallway to the bedroom. He stood there in his jock, checking out the scene of the crime. “So this is where it happened,” he said. More statement than question. Yeah, I sighed. Grabbed the packed pipe. Lit it. Took a deep pull. Exhaled. “He fucked me here for the first time.” I sat on the edge of the bed. Let the silence stretch. Waited for him to speak. Chuck didn’t say anything. Just stood there, eyes scanning the room. Like he was trying to see it. Me and Coach. What it looked like. What it felt like. I took another hit. Passed it to him. He hesitated. Said he’d never done T. Told him it wasn’t about that. Said it’d be ok. Said it helped me with Coach that first time. Would make it easier to take him. He looked at me. Took the pipe. Brought it to his lips. Dragged light. Let it out fast. Coughed once, eyes watered. Told him to try again. Ease into it. Hold it. He did. Slower this time. Eyes half shut. He let out a low moan. Let it settle. Then passed it back. Told him it was all his. He growled. I torched the bowl. He dragged deep. Held it. Let it out. I watched him shiver. Told him Coach had saved me. Showed up when it counted. Chuck nodded. Took another hit. Let out a big white cloud. Then he looked at me. Said he was ready. Said if this was where it started, he wanted in. I stood. Leaned in. Kissed him. “Hope so, boy,” Coach growled, eyes locked on us through the cloud. “Ben says you know the deal. I’m gonna rework you. But it comes with a price.” He stepped closer. Voice low. “You’ve seen what this musclejock can do. You sure you’re ready for that?” Chuck looked at me. Moaned. Answered quickly, “Yes, Sir.” “Coach. Just Coach,” he smiled, tossing his clothes. Chuck nodded. Answered right that time. Coach walked to the bed, dropped on it. Leaned back. Told us to get on. One on each side. We jumped on. Coach spread his arms. Smelled his pits. I looked at Chuck. Knew what he was thinking. Could smell it. The fucking scent of a real man. Both of us moaned. Inhaled. Dove into them. Lapped up the sweat. “That’s it, boys,” Coach growled, shoving us deeper into his pits. “Fucking get a good taste of Coach’s smell. Been in the gym getting those jocks sweaty. Built. Ready for more.” We went for it. Faces were covered in sweat now. Coach was loving it. Told us about one of the jocks he was working. Max. Said we’d like him. Tall. Six three. Shoulders wide, hips narrow. We just moaned. Listened to him go on while we stayed on his pits. Then satisfied he pulled us back. Felt him squeeze my neck. It was on. He slid a finger in our holes. Could see Chuck’s eyes closing. Was fucking flying now. I leaned in. Kissed him hard. Told him he was lucky Coach had picked him. Then reminded him there was no going back now. It was gonna happen. He grunted. I growled. Looked at Coach. Gave him the signal. Coach smiled. Gripped our necks. Pulled us down to his cock. Held us there. Eyes moved between us. “Ben,” he said, gripping my jaw, guiding me. “Show him how it’s done.” And I did! Went to town on it. Mouth over shaft. Licking it. Kissing it. Hands on his full balls. Balls ready to infect. Chuck just watched, breath ragged. Then Coach took over. Set the pace. Didn’t ease up. One hand on me, other on Chuck. Coach growled. Told Chuck to go for it. Chuck was there, next to me now. Both working on Coach. His grip on both of us, firm. But it was Chuck I watched. Paid attention to. The way his mouth worked on his shaft. Foreskin. The way his eyes flicked to mine, steady. It was time! I drew back. Held the shaft. Pulled down Coach’s skin. Scorpion was out now! Leaking its venom. Chuck didn’t notice at first. Then did. He pulled back. Fucking scared. I grabbed his hand, tight. Felt the tension in his fingers. Knew I had to do something. So I sat up. Rolled my shoulders. Flexed, slow. Controlled. Pecs tight, arms curled. Abs sharp under soft light. Chuck watched. Eyes locked. Breathing heavier now. T had taken over. I looked at him. Let him know Coach had pozzed me that first night. Told him it was part of the deal I made. And if he wanted this, really wanted it. He’d have to take all that came with it. He’d be wrecked. Pozzed. But be built back up. Better. Also told him we were in this together. He’d be trained to take cock like I did. All shapes, sizes. Poz loads. Any loads. In his hole, down his throat. Would learn to fucking love it. He moaned. Ran a hand over my pecs. Skin smooth under his palm. Didn’t say anything at first. Just took in what I told him. Then Coach made his move. Started prepping Chuck’s hole. That sealed the deal! Chuck moaned with every scratch, scrape of Coach made. Chuck grabbed my neck. Told me if that’s what it took, he wanted it. Wanted to be poz. Just like me. Our foreheads touched. Tongues met. Spit mixing. We moved together down the bed. I shifted. Pushed him down on his back. Told him to tell Coach. He needed to hear it. Chuck moaned. Looked Coach in the eyes. Begged to be pozzed. Begged to be wrecked. To be built up again into something new. Coach growled. Said he’d do it. Said Chuck only had to take enough loads to make it stick, for now. Chuck moaned. Arched his back. Gave Coach more access. Said to fucking do it. Poz him. Wanted to get it over with. Coach smiled. Said good boy. That’s all he needed to hear. Then shoved his cock in. “Fuck yeah!” Chuck yelled out, head falling back. Eyes still on me. “Fucking poz me, Coach!” Coach didn’t hold back. He picked up the pace. Rammed his cock in and out. It was wild. I stared at Chuck. God, he was beautiful. The hair on his pecs was covered in sweat. I couldn’t stand it. I went down. Licked them. Tasted the chem sweat. That’s when it hit me. I wanted to fuck him! Fill his hole with my poz load. Coach saw the look on my face. Told me no. I sat back. Breath hard. Was told I was just still a fucking cumdump. But I was hard! Fucking harder than I’d ever been. I laughed. Looked at Coach pile driving into Chuck. Knew I’d made a deal with the devil. Would get to pay it forward when Coach gave me the go ahead. Coach just kept on. Ignored me. Slammed into Chuck. “Fuck yeah, Coach. Please! I need it!” he begged, taking Coach’s cock to the root every time. The thrusts went on. Grunts filled the room. I just kept watching. Saw Chuck’s cock stretch out his precum soaked pouch. Coach saw it too. Saw me drooling for it. He pulled it out. Told me go for it. Was my reward. I moaned. Licked my lips. Licked up the precum dripping out the folds of his foreskin. Chuck was getting close. Could see it throbbing. Chuck grabbed me. Pulled me down on him. Wrapped my tongue around him. Just held on. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Chuck yelled out, spurting out a load. “Goddamn fucking poz cumdump!” I moaned. Didn’t know if he meant me or him. Didn’t matter. Like I told him. Were in this together. I pulled back, mouth full. Kissed him. Swapped one of the last neg loads he’d have. Same time we felt the bed shake. It was Coach. He let out a final roar. Fired off a toxic load into Chuck. That’s when we heard a raspy cough. Rough. Dry. It was Pete. The one who first had my spot. The one who wrecked me good the last time. Was right on time. He stood just inside the room. Piss-stained jockstrap low on his waist, stretched out. Been the first time I’d seen him since that night. Couldn’t help it. I forgot about Chuck. My hole ached. Had all come back to me. How his laddered cock felt fucking me. He looked at me first, then Chuck. Chuck nodded, not sure what was happening. Pete didn’t return it. Just stepped closer, eyes locked on me. “Ben, you remember Pete,” Coach chuckled, putting his hand on my thigh. Pete’s eyes dropped to my pecs, then down to my crotch. Paused. Looked back up to me. Like he was waiting. Coach gripped my thigh. I shifted, just enough to let my thigh press harder against Coach’s. I pulled down my pouch. Let Pete see me. Cock out, hard, throbbing. Shaved. Coach still didn’t move. Pete took in Coach’s grip on me. The way I leaned into Coach. “You bulked up. Shaved now,” he said, grabbing his crotch. I didn’t answer. Just held his stare. Pete’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. “Coach didn’t waste time.” Then Pete came closer. Just gave me that look. Like he knew what I wanted. And hell yeah, I did. Because I liked what he’d done to me. He’d been rough. Cruel. Hadn’t held back. I’d been fucking hunting for it ever since. His hand slid up my thigh to my hole. Fingers firm, pressed just enough to make me hold still. Looked at me like he knew he could do anything to me right then. I tried not to moan. But did, barely. Coach caught it. Hand gripped me tighter. My hips shifted before I could stop myself. Pete saw it. Smirked. “Yeah,” he snarled, tossing his jockstrap. “You need it.” Then turned to Chuck. “But later. That’s the one I came for.” I gulped. Surprised it wasn’t laddered. I looked at Coach. Then heard Chuck moan. Saw his eyes locked on the scorpion on top. Saw how he took in the way it moved, throbbed. Heavy. Like it knew exactly what it was built for. He lay back. Offered himself up. Pete stood by the side of the bed. Grabbed Chuck’s jaw, turned his face. Looked him over like a piece of meat. Chuck didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. He was fucking ready for more. I could see it. So could Coach. Pete leaned in. Told Chuck to get ready. Chuck nodded. Opened his mouth wide. Swallowed it all. Pete growled. I watched it go all the way down Chuck’s throat. Then halfway out. Then back in again. Chuck was fucking loving it. Then Pete grabbed his wrists. Pulled them over his head. Tied them to the headboard. I just sat there. Surprised. Didn't know about this part. Then I heard it. Pete snapped his fingers. Coach got up. Grabbed a rig from the drawer. Tossed me a strap. Told me to get Chuck ready. Then told me I’d be next. I obeyed, no questions. Wrapped his bicep tight. Pete just smirked at me. Told Coach he always knew how to pick them. Then he moved down. Spread Chuck’s dripping hole with his cock. This point, Chuck knew what was coming. He looked at me. Strap now around my bicep. Nodding. I told him again. We were in it together. That's all he needed to hear. He looked up. Saw Coach holding the rig at his vein. Down at Pete at his hole. He sighed. Nodded. Pete smiled. Cracked his knuckles. “Let’s get on with it,” he said, looking right at Chuck. Coach grunted. Pushed it in. Drew the register. Slammed Chuck. Chuck moaned. Eyes rolled back. Had gotten a big dose. We’d be here a while. Pete leaned in. Said, you wanted it, now you gotta earn it. Then shoved his cock in. Hard. “Shit yeah!” Even with the pain Chuck yelled out, arms pulling against the ties. Headboard slammed the wall. “Fucking breed my hole!” Chuck was a fucking animal taking it. Had never seen him like this. Raw. Feral. Still he watched me. Hungry. My cock got hard again. Then Coach slammed me. Pushed me down next to Chuck. Said if we really were in it together. Pete would fuck us both. “GOD YES!” I groaned, feeling Pete plunge into me. “Give it to me!” And he did! Shoved his cock hard. Deep. Pounded me open. Chuck lay there next to me. Still tied. He struggled. Begged. Said he wanted to be fucked full of poz cum. Said Pete could do anything to him. If he got his load. Pete laughed. Told him to shut up. Said I was just getting him ready. That didn’t stop Chuck. He kept on. Called me fucking pathetic. Said everyone laughed at me now. Knew they only had to look at me. No challenge. He’d be better. Would be his fucking roided out musclejock whore if he wanted. Would live for him. For his poz loads. I lay there, Pete still in me. Was fucking pissed now. Told Chuck I didn’t care. Knew what I was. Was fucking proud what Coach did to me. Reminded him I was a fucking virgin before that. Had been Coach’s the minute he shoved his cock in me. Pozzed me. I snarled. Looked up at Pete. Told him to wreck Chuck. Pete grunted, knew exactly what I meant. Then pulled out. I moved up. Got up in Chuck’s face. Spit flying. Told him all I’d gone through to get to my spot. The fucking long hours at the gym. Finally told him the truth about the first time Coach fucked me. Yeah. I had gone over there. But Coach fucking stealth bumped with T. Fucking bloodied my hole to make sure his poz load took. Like his was now. Then I took a breath. Told him how I got gangbanged at the other gym. How I took all kinds of poz cock, no problem. And yeah, how Pete fucked me till I bled to make sure it stuck. Chuck gasped. Looked at Pete off to the side now, then back to us. Coach saw the anger I had. The hurt. He grabbed me. Wrapped his arms around me. A fucking flood of emotions came out I didn’t know I had. I sobbed. He held me tight. Whispered in my ear. Said he was proud of me. I wiped my tears. Looked at Chuck. Pete at his hole again. This time laddered. Chuck hadn’t seen it. Was concentrated on me. I smiled. Then really tore into him. Told him it had all been planned. Coach had me work on him. All those fucking hours at the gym I spent, just him and me. I had to get close. Coach ordered me. Till he fucking wouldn’t stop begging for it. Yeah, I’d had it by then. It all came out. Yelled at Coach to let me go. I jumped on the bed. Jabbed a finger in him, felt Coach’s load. I pulled out. Showed him the red. Shoved it in his mouth. Told him it was all because of me that he’d be pozzed. He lay there. Crying. Every fucking word hurt him. Like he tried to hurt me. Then I looked at Pete. Told him to fucking do it. Pete looked at me. At Coach. Then Coach turned to me. Saw I meant it. Gave Pete the okay. Pete slammed in. Chuck cried out at. Felt the ladder shred his hole. I stood there. Back in Coach’s arms. Watched Chuck beg for it to stop. Said he didn’t mean it. Wanted to go home. I just yelled. Told him it was too late. Coach’s load was in him. Was in his fucking bloodstream by now. If he was lucky Pete’s would soon be there too. Then something happened. Chuck relaxed. Gave a slight moan. I looked at Coach. Couldn't believe Chuck was getting into it. Coach just smiled. Let go of me. Told me to go to Chuck. I took a step. Looked back at Coach. Then at Chuck, eyes shut. He was fucking taking it! Could hear his moans get louder. I sat on the shaking bed. Released his wrists. Wiped the sweat from his forehead. He opened his eyes. Looked at me. Look that said he was sorry. I leaned in. Grabbed him hard. Forced his mouth open. Told him he was a fucking pathetic cumdump. Hocked a wad of spit. He swallowed. Moaned. Said it took one to know one. Then lifted his head. Kissed me. “Fuck that shit!” Pete yelled out, tired of the dramatics. “Get the fuck out the way, Ben. YOU, BOY, ALL FOURS!” I growled. Told Chuck I was right there if he needed me. He nodded. Swung himself over. Never let go of Pete. Was doggy now. “Fucking do it!” Chuck yelled out, full of energy again. He looked at me. Pushed back on Pete’s bloody ladder. “Fucking wreck me!” I don’t remember how long Pete fucked him after that. Was busy with Coach. Next thing I remember. They’re both moaning. Getting close. We stopped. Watched Pete push Chuck down on the bed. Raise his hips. Ram it down one last time. Then groans from both of them. They didn’t move. Coach chuckled. Got up. Held out his hand. Said they needed time. Chuck needed time. I sighed. Said yeah. Got up. Stopped at the door. Saw Chuck cleaning Pete off. Heard the ladder clink his teeth. I smiled. Shut the door behind me. I joined Coach in the living room. Kneeled between his legs. Looked up. Told him it was the fucking hottest scene I’d ever had. Even better than the old gym. Said couldn’t wait to do it again. Then asked about Max. The high school jock. Coach just laughed. Said yeah, he’s 18. Was mine. I moaned. Kissed him. Then admitted I wanted it rough. Wanted to hurt. He smiled. Said he was waiting for that. Said he’d arrange it. Then pulled me on his cock. About an hour later we heard the bedroom door open. Sound of chain links filled the hallway. Then Pete walked out. Dressed. Chuck behind him. Still jockstrapped. But now collared. Leashed. Big smile on his face. I stood up. Walked over. “Fuck, dude,” I moaned, feeling the huge plug in his hole. “There’s no fucking way you didn’t convert.” He just laughed. Said yeah but they weren’t done yet. Said Pete knew a place. I laughed. Said yeah. I knew it. Said maybe I’d catch him there sometime. He moaned. Saw my pouch growing. Said he couldn't wait. Then they left. I heard Coach call me back. Saw him hold out a chrome cock cage. Told me it was time for the next step. I groaned. Went to him. Pulled down my pouch. Offered up my junk. He slipped on the chrome ring. Locked me up. Said I’d only take it off to shave, clean. Till he said so. I nodded. Pulled the pouch over it. Fuck the metal felt heavy. Then I walked over to the mirror. Saw my locked bulge. Grinned. Knew there was no fucking way to hide it in my workout gear. Would fucking get me even more attention. Then I dropped. Crawled to him. Moaned. Said yeah, was still just a fucking poz cumdump for now. Max could wait. And begged him for another load.

Your medical information can’t be shared with someone unless you specifically sign off on it. That includes your emergency contact. They would be notified in an emergency but should not be told of the reason. There is the caveat that, if you are incapacitated and not able to consent to treatment, they may need to discuss your condition with them to treat you/save your life.

Coach Sanders 3 Coach pulled back after that weekend. Just a few missed texts. Short replies. I started wondering what was going on. Thought he’d changed his mind. Then nothing. Just quiet. Weeks went by. I got nervous. Then he texted. School break was coming up. Said it was time. Come Friday. Tell the folks I’d be out all week. I didn’t sleep much the night before. Just lay there, thinking about taking a load. Sure, I knew what I had to do. Pass it on. It’s what I signed up for. But right then, it was all about loads. Coach told me no one else. For now. But he’d gotten in my head. It was nonstop. I couldn’t shut it off. Some of the frat guys picked up on it at school. In the halls, during lectures. They’d look. I kept it cool. But slipped. Looked too long. One of them caught me. He saw it. Didn’t say anything. Just smiled. Like he knew. I kept walking. Pretended I didn’t notice, but I did. Then it was time. I got ready. Got dressed, commando like he told me. I checked the mirror. It’d been a while since he saw me. Coach’d mapped out my meals. I looked solid. Leaner. Mass sitting right where it should. Pecs, arms, thighs, traps. I’d pushed harder. Every lift. Every mile. Always thinking about getting in shape to compete. Even when he went quiet. I headed to his place, heart thumping. Ran up to the door. Tried not to look like I’d been waiting, but I had. Was written all over me. I knocked. Coach stood there. Nothing on. No smile. I stepped inside. He didn’t say much. Tossed me a jockstrap. I caught it. Stink hit hard. Thick. I smiled. It was mine. Fucking missed it. I stripped fast. Pulled it on. Was tight. Familiar. I looked at him. Let him know I was ready to give up everything for him. He stroked my face. Told me he knew. Nodded toward the living room. I followed, pulse loud in my ears. Knew what was coming. Was already hard thinking about it. He gripped my shoulders when we got there. Pushed me down. I saw the dripping scorpion. Moaned. Lapped at it. Tasted every drop. Coach’s hands grabbed the back of my head. I opened up. Felt it in my mouth. On my tongue. Took it all, nose deep in his pubes. Then I thought how it felt in my hole. So I pulled back. Kissed it one last time. Stood. Kissed him rough, hungry. Told him I needed a load in me. Been too long. That’s when I saw Greg walk in. He sat at the edge of the couch. Hit the pipe. I moaned. He just smiled, legs spread. Pouch stretched tight across his cock. Smooth skin, shaved clean. I’d been picturing myself like that since Coach said he was gonna get me ready to compete. Be shaped. Turned into something to be shown. Something to be judged. Greg pulled another hit. Got up, came over to us. Looked at me, then at Coach. Put a hand on my pec. “I spent six years being Coach’s,” he said, eyes still on him. “Thought I was it.” Then he looked at me. “Even after he picked you. Figured you’d wash out. But you didn’t.” Coach nodded. Like it’d been settled. Greg pulled another, then passed it over. I hit it slow, deep. Till it was spent. I wondered if he meant it. So I grabbed Greg’s hand, put it on my pouch. He looked at me. Took a deep breath. Sank down, eyes never leaving mine. I could see it. The want. I felt it too. Had since we met. Coach stepped in behind me, hands on my shoulders. Cock at my hole. “Whatever you need,” Greg said, looking up at me. “I’m here for you.” I didn’t say anything. Just let him stay there. Let him feel what he was doing. Then it hit me. What I needed to do to seal my spot. “If you mean it,” I growled, running my fingers through his hair. “Then prove it.” He nodded. Didn’t hesitate. Just leaned in. Started chewing on the rank pouch, hungry. I kept my hand in his hair. Let him feel my cock, pushing to get out. Still he didn’t rush. Then I felt it! Coach’s cock going in! I moaned. Ignored Greg. Told Coach I needed it. He pushed in more. Told Greg to look at me. To watch what had taken his place. What he’d built for that spot. Coach’s hand slid down my pecs, down my abs. Let my cock out. Greg stared at it. Groaned. Like I said, size wasn’t ever my problem. I groaned. Took control. Knew I needed to. Had to. I grabbed Greg's face. His skin was hot. He licked his lips. Opened wide. Tongue slid under me. I held him there. Let him feel me. Then gave him the signal. Greg nodded. Started to suck. Tongue my shaft. SHIT! My first blow job! I hit the back of his throat. He gagged, slightly, but took it down. I started fucking his mouth. He didn’t move. Didn’t resist. I gripped him harder. Just kept up the thrusts. Then I felt Coach start rammming into me. My thrusts slowed but harder. Fucking incredible! Sucked and fucked at the same time! My hole tightened. Couldn’t help it! I was getting close. Felt my balls tense up. Started shaking. “That’s it, boy. Take his cum!” Coach yelled at Greg, starting to fuck me even harder. Faster. “You fucking earned it!” I couldn’t hold back. My head fell back on Coach’s pecs. Hole filled with his cock. “Goddamn shit!” I groaned, spewing my load in his mouth, down his throat. The 5-day load Coach told me to save up. Could see it spill over. Drip out his mouth. Coach told him not to swallow. “Show me, boy. Show Coach how much poz cum his new musclejock gave you,” he growled. Greg lifted his chin, showed us. Fucking pool of toxic cum sat there in his mouth. I felt Coach stiffen. Felt his shaft throb. I moaned. Knew he was gonna shoot a load. “Fuck yeah, boy. Now swallow!” Coach barked at Greg, blasting into me. “Fucking do it!” Greg obeyed. Eyes on Coach. Then opened wide. Showed he’d taken it all down. Coach nodded. Held me close. Tugged the short pubes on my crotch. Greg watched, tongue out. “Think you’re ready?” he asked me, motioning to Greg. I looked at Greg. His skin slick. No hair. Sweat running off it. Just shine. Like he’d been polished. I moaned. Nodded. “Say it,” he snapped, fingers digging into my nips. “YEAH, COACH!” I yelled. “I’m ready! Want to be smooth for you! For competition!” Coach looked at Greg, “You hear that?” Greg smiled. “Do it. Neck down. Don’t leave a fucking hair on him.” I stood there. Nips raw. Breathing hard, jock half down my thighs. Hole aching. I said it again. Said I wanted to be smooth. Wanted Greg to shave it off. Greg stood. Tossed his jockstrap, eyes on my junk. Slid his fingers under my waistband. Pulled it down slow. Let it drop to the floor. I stood still. He grabbed my balls. Played with them, rough. I moaned. Grabbed his balls, tight. He liked that. His grip shifted, rougher on me. Pulled down on them. I didn’t flinch. Told him harder. He grunted. Grabbed my hand. Led me to the shower. Hosed me down, smeared on the lather. Coach stood back, eyes on Greg. Greg moved, slow. Razor steady on my pecs. I felt every scrape. My nips were exposed. Then felt the blade skim my abs. Coach just stood there. Studied me. Like a sculpture being carved out of a block of marble. Greg kept on. Razor gliding over my ass. My thighs. Over my arms, my pits. Then he dropped. Took my pubes. Then gripped my balls. Pulled down, hard. Skin was tight. I fucking loved it! Razor went over my sac. Felt his breath on my cock. He moved up, across the shaft till it was smooth. Then grabbed my hips. Turned me. Told me to bend over. Started on my taint. Then circled my hole. Shaved it clean. “Fucking perfect,” Greg moaned, grabbing my hips, and ate me out like he was starving. I moaned. Hit the shower floor, hard. He didn’t stop. Didn’t care if he wasn’t supposed to. He was on me, teeth scraping, tongue dragging, breath ragged. His tongue dug in. I gasped. He growled. Knew exactly what I needed. I spread my cheeks for him. “Fuck,” he said, fingering me. “You were made for this.” My hole burned. My legs shook. I couldn’t think. He’d bumped me! I arched. He laughed. Hand slid to spread me open. “You want it,” he said, dragging his cock across my hole. “Say it.” I did. I begged. Greg shoved his cock in my hole like he owned it. No teasing. No buildup. Just full control. I tried to push back. He didn’t let me. Gripped my hips, kept me still. He fucked deep, slow. Then fast. Dragging his cock over every inch inside my hole. I whimpered. My body was on fire. Every nerve lit. His grip tightened. His cock slid deeper. I melted into him. Into being used exactly like this. Greg didn’t let up. Was now on top of me. Arm around my throat, cock slamming into me. Coach walked up, eyes hard. Grabbed my chin. Told me to look at him. Put a bottle of poppers to my nostril. I inhaled. Loosened up. “Look at me, boy. Remember you’re here for,” Coach said, voice low, breath hot. “What you did back there was a one off. You do what I decide. For now, you take cock.” He grabbed my chin, spat in my mouth. “You take loads. Nothing more. Understood?” I did. Groaned it. He smiled, dark. Satisfied. Told Greg to finish up. Then went to the bedroom. Greg didn’t ease up. Bit my neck, sucked hard. Left a mark. I couldn’t take it. I lifted my hips. Tried to stroke my cock. He grunted. Pulled me up, arm still tight around my neck. His other hand slid between my legs, fingers rough, deliberate. I gasped. “You don’t touch it,” he said, growling. “You wait. You earn it.” I nodded. Greg kept on. His body pressed tight on my back. I gave him everything. He pushed deeper, harder. Felt me take him. Then he lost it. Gasped. Stiffened. Rammed into me, shot his load. Mixed it with Coach’s. “That’s it,” he murmured, mouth at my ear. “He’s waiting.” We got up. He stepped behind me. His hands moved slow, steady. Slid over my shaved body. I leaned into him. He traced my ribs, hips, thighs. I shivered. Not from cold. From how exposed I felt. How clean. How easy it was to feel everything. I turned to him, cock hard again. I reached out. Moaned. Was just as smooth as him now. My palms dragged over his pecs, down his abs, around his waist. He was smiling. Moaning under my touch. I gripped his balls, they drew up. I pulled down. Fingers ran over the smooth skin. He grunted. Grabbed my cock. My hips jerked. Pushed my cock into his fist. “Can’t wait to see the look on guys’ faces when they see you shaved,” he said, dropping to his knees. He kept stroking it. Working it. Shit it felt good. Greg kept it up. I was ready to shoot. Warned him. He just growled. Took my cock in his mouth. Reached around. Slid a finger in me. Worked my prostate. I clamped down. Rode his finger, teeth clenched. Till I shot. I sighed. Thought about what Coach’d said. Even after that, I pulled him up. Held on tight. Didn't want to let go. Couldn’t get over the feeling of his shaved skin against mine. Then Greg growled. Said he had to piss. He pulled back. I moaned. Felt it hit me. Felt it flow over my pecs. Down my abs. Over my cock, balls. I grabbed his face. Kissed him. Let loose a load of my hot piss over him. We ground into each other. Hands spread our piss over each other. Fed our piss to each other. Then I dropped. Licked his smooth crotch. Slurped down over his cock. Sucked out the last drops of piss. Then moved to his balls. I took one in. Rolled it over my tongue. Then did the other. “Shit, yeah!” Greg moaned, pulling me up, and kissed me. “Fucking goddamn jockpig.” I just moaned. Then confessed I’d had thought about it since the night we met. Confessed I’d started drinking my own. He laughed. Said I could have all I want, as long as I gave him mine. I nodded. Said we had a deal. Next, Greg turned on the water. We rinsed. Dried off. Jocked up. Coach sat on the bed. Drink in hand. He stood. Looked at Greg. Looked at me. Grabbed my face, hard. Said he knew what happened. Asked why I disobeyed him. Said there were plenty of guys wanting the spot. Knew one that could start that night. I freaked out. Looked down. Said I was sorry. Said I shouldn’t have let it happen. Then Greg cut in. Held my hand. Said it was his fault. Said I just followed his lead. Coach paused. Took a breath. Said alright, he’d let it go. Said next time, Greg would take the hit and be out. Then Coach turned to me. Ran his rough hands over me. I shivered. Goosebumps came up. He took his time. Told me I wasn’t stage ready. Not yet. Had a way to go. But he’d make sure I got there. He circled. Looked at my legs. Said they’d draw eyes. Said I’d be wanted. His eyes climbed. Legs, torso, arms. Said I looked tight. Ass. Said I looked fuckable. I just smiled. Could feel it already. The way guys would stare. The way they’d want. Some would want to touch. Some would just size me up. I’d give them something to look at. Something to chase. Then, when it was time, something they’d beg for. A load of my poz cum. Coach grabbed his keys. Tossed us a gym bag. Nodded toward the hall. “Gym.” We got dressed. Basics. Shirt, shorts, sneakers. Coach drove. Greg rode up front, me behind. Still getting used to how everything felt without hair. The way my shirt clung different. The way my shorts slid easier. No friction. Just skin. Figured we’d be going back to that old gym. But we didn’t. It was my gym. The one Coach had set me up at. But this time it’d be different. I’d be walking in with them. Smooth. Shaved. The usual crew was there. Heads turned. Not just at Coach. Not just at Greg. At me. I felt it. Greg walked beside me, calm. Wired, just like me. Coach led us straight to the locker room. Lights were bright. Mirrors everywhere. Coach gave a look. I peeled off my shirt, shorts. Then hesitated. Wasn’t sure. I looked at him. Saw him give me a nod. I smiled. Dropped the jockstrap. I stood there. Felt the air hit my bare skin. I caught a few looks. Saw one guy touch his cock. No underwear. Just an outline on his shorts. Coach tossed me gear. Tight. White. Nothing to hide the minute I’d sweat. I pulled it on. Fit like a second skin. Greg did the same. We stepped out together. Coach didn’t slow down. Led us to the weights. Greg followed, steady. I kept pace, skin buzzing. From the Tina. From knowing there was no doubt about me now. I was a fucking musclejock. Heads turned fast. Guys paused mid-rep, mid-stretch. Some subtle. Some not. I felt even more exposed. Their eyes dragged over me, more than usual. We hit the floor hard. Coach called the sets. Rows, squats first. Greg grabbed his weights, smooth and focused. I followed, gear clinging tight. Coach paced behind us, adjusted form, added weight. Watched everything. Sweat came fast. Gear soaked through quick, turned sheer in spots. Every rep showed more, till it showed everything. Then it was benches. Coach told Greg to spot me. I slid into position. Back flat. Hands on the bar. Greg stepped up, junk right above me. His gear was soaked through. I could see his hard cock. Could see his balls. The way it all bulged out against his smooth crotch. I hit my reps. Then dropped the bar. Held it. Exhaled hard. Greg didn’t move. Just looked down at me. His hands moved over my arms. I reached for his. Felt the solid muscles. His palms landed hard on my pecs. I flexed. Still focused on his junk. I opened my mouth. Stuck out my tongue. Drop of sweat hit me. I moaned. Swallowed. Then sat up. Greg just laughed. Pulled me up. Put his hand on my shoulders. Everyone could see. There was no hiding it. I was hard, too. “Fuck, Ben,” he moaned, looking down at my cock. “You know what that does to me.” I grabbed his cock. Squeezed. Told him his did the same. Then Coach called core. We moved on. No one rushed us. The guys gave us space. Let us work through. Moved just enough to keep watching between sets, over bottles. Through mirrors. Some tried to play it cool. Some didn’t bother. I saw the looks. We just kept going. Coach finally called it. We headed for the locker room. They watched us go. Their sets slowed. Eyes followed. Greg walked steady in front of me. We passed mirrors. Caught our reflections. Bare skin under wet gear. We peeled it off. Tossed it all in the locker. Then moved toward the showers. A few guys were already there. We stepped in. Heads turned. Greg didn’t slow. Took the far shower. I followed. Took the one next to him. Water ran down my back. I stretched, slow. Let them look. One guy paused mid-rinse. Another shifted closer. It was Sean. Husband of one of the trainers. I caught him checking out my ass. Saw he was hard. His hands moved slower. Shoulder brushed mine. I didn’t move. He didn’t either. We kept on. His arm brushed mine again. Still I didn’t step back. Then he leaned in, growled, “I could bend you over right now and you’d take it.” I turned slightly. Not much. Just enough to show him I’d heard. I rinsed slower. Let my hands drag. Let him watch. His hand slid down my back. Didn’t look at me. Didn’t need to. His touch said enough. I leaned into him, slow. Arched. His finger pressed in. Dug. I let him work my hole. Braced my hands against the tile. He moved behind me. Hands ran over my pecs. Cupped them. I inhaled, filled his palms. He grabbed my hand. Pulled it behind me, on his cock. His mouth brushed my ear, “I can tell. You want it. Raw.” My body said it all. I turned my face towards his. Flicked my tongue against his lips. He crouched. Slid his cock against my hole. Pressed it in, slow. I felt every vein and ridge of it. Braced harder against the wall. Gasped. Water slammed down on us. Behind us, the room had shifted. One guy turned away. Scrubbed his arms like he hadn’t been watching. Another stopped, cock growing in his hand. Third guy backed toward the lockers, eyes wide. Pretended not to look. But he did. They all did. That’s when things got going. We gave them a show. I relaxed. Backed up on him. Moaned loud. My hole ached from it. Then I noticed Jack walk up. Sean’s husband. He whispered in Sean’s ear. “Fuck yeah!” Sean growled, arching his back. Sean slowed his fuck. His body tensed. Took a deep breath. Shuddered. Jack had shoved his cock in. Sean begged for it. And Jack gave it to him. He pulled on Sean’s hips. Buried his cock with each thrust. I could feel it. How rough it was. “You like that, boy?” Jack growled at me. “Shit yeah!” I groaned, begging him to keep it up. “Goddamn fucking need it!” I could hear Jack ram Sean’s ass. Drove Sean’s cock into my hungry hole. Hit it just right. The fucks continued. Jack grunted, signaled he was close. Pushed Sean down. I went down under Sean. Jack pounded Sean. Growled. Said to get ready. Sean started up again. Fucked me with short thrusts. Said he was gonna breed my musclejock hole. Seconds later, he started to shake. Yelled out he was cumming. I couldn’t take it. My hole pulsed. Felt it wrap around Sean’s shaft. Sean tightened up. That did it! Jack’s eyes rolled back. Hips pushed forward. Drove his cock deeper into Sean. Shot his load. We stayed like that. Water still rushing over us. Jack was the first to make a move. Pulled his cock out. Next Sean pulled out. Went to Jack. Grabbed him. Kissed him. Tongues fighting, between bites. I could see the lust. Jack dropped to his knees. Took Sean’s cock in his mouth. Tasted the load mixed with my ass juices. Greg helped me up. Stuck a finger in me. Stuck it in my mouth. I sucked. Tasted the load. Then just stood there, water flowed over my body. Knew no one was gonna look at me the same. Not after showing up, shaved. Not after what just happened. I could tell they saw me different. Not quick glances now. Not casual. These stuck. I let them stare. Let them wonder. Was done hiding what I was. Coach was already waiting by the door. He gave me a look that said he was proud. Approved. He motioned to the sauna. Greg turned off the water. Grabbed a towel, tossed me one. I caught it, wrapped it low. We didn’t speak. Just followed Coach out. The sauna was empty. Wood warm. Steam rising. We stepped in. Coach and Greg sat on one side. Me on the other. I stretched out, skin flushed, breath slow. Then the door opened. One guy, then another stepped in, slow. Some had followed us from the showers. Others were regulars. Familiar. Guys I’d noticed but had never spoken to. Yeah, after all this time, I’d still kept to myself. They paused. Took me in. No nods. Just eyes. Fixed. Focused. Like something had shifted. Like they had permission now. Like Coach had brought me in, and now they could really look. They sat around me. Not close, but close enough. The heat wrapped around us. No one spoke. I felt the way they settled in, like they were waiting. I took a deep breath. Let my towel fall open. Not rushed. Not shy. I wanted them to see what had been done to me. Coach didn’t move. Just watched. One of them dropped his towel. Shifted closer. Kyle. Muscled. My type. His thigh brushed mine. Then his hand reached out. Gripped my pec, fingers spread out. “Damn,” he grunted, not looking at me when he said it. Was looking at Coach. “Fucking sexy. Better.” Coach didn’t blink. Just sat there, calm. Kyle made his move. Hand on my back now. Felt my lats pop under his touch. Slow. Just feeling them. He moved down, over my ass. Down into my crack. I looked over. Saw his cock sticking straight up, hard, cut. Thick. Two fingers worked my hole. I moaned. His eyes stayed on Coach. Like he was checking. Like he wanted to be sure. And Coach didn’t stop him. Just grunted. That was the signal. I lifted my hips. Gave him access. Kyle nodded. Smiled. Felt the fresh load in me. “Shit, yeah. Fucking jockslut,” he grunted, lifting me up, and placed me on the bench. On my knees. Ass up. He played at my hole with his cock. Pressed harder until he finally popped inside. “Shit yeah. All of it.” I moaned, gasping. “Fucking breed me!” Kyle just grunted. Started sliding in and out. I could feel the ridge pull my hole out. Push it in on the way down. I bounced back on it. Needed to feel another cock plow into me. That’s when Coach moved to the upper bench. He sat there, right in front of my face. Slapped his cock on my lips. I caught it. Sucked it. Kyle kept on behind me. He leaned in. Ran his hands over my back. Down over my pecs. Kept hitting my prostate. Made me spasm every time. I moaned. Tightened up. Milked his cock. That did it. He shoved in all the way. “Fucking jockslut, gonna breed that hole!” he yelled out, flooding me with another load. I kept bouncing on his cock, squeezed. Wanted every drop. Finally he pulled out. Looked at Coach “All yours,” Kyle growled. Coach grabbed his cock at the base. I didn’t need to be told. I got up. Faced the room. Then reached back. Guided it in. Pushed down. His cock spread my hole. Fuck it was good to have it back in me! I pulled up. Closed my eyes, slammed down. Coach leaned back. Hooked his hands under my legs. Lifted them. Showed everyone how my hole took his cock. He started bouncing me up and down, harder. Was breathing heavy. Said he was getting close. I tightened up. Begged for his load. He grunted, tensed. Dropped me down, cock all in. Filled my hole with a load of spunk. He kept me like that. Cock in me. Told me to flex. I stretched. Rolled my shoulders back. Arms up. Biceps tight. Lats flared. Sweat catching every ridge. I felt their eyes. Every shift. Every breath. Coach grabbed my triceps. Said harder. I did. Let it show. And none of them looked away. The steam hissed. My breath stayed steady. Muscles tight. Someone swallowed. Loud in the quiet. Coach didn’t move. Just kept his hands on me. Then one of them stood. Walked up to us. Slow. Steady. It was Chuck. He was a year younger than me. One of the regulars. Smooth. Lean. Just a beautiful, natural body. The kind that didn’t need to try. The kind I watched in high school. The kind I first started out to be. He dropped his towel. Stood there. I moaned. Saw his uncut cock still covering the head just like Coach’s. That’s when Coach lifted me off. Dropped me on the floor. Chuck knelt. Waited. I looked at Coach. No reaction. Chuck stared at Coach’s cock. Saw the load, my ass juices on the shaft. Scorpion hidden again. I wondered what he’d do when he saw it. I admit it, kind of got me going. Coach looked at me. Looked at Chuck. Then spread his legs. Nodded. Chuck was on it. Fast. Tongue lapped at the remains. No doubt, I was scared. Scared of losing my spot after all I did to get it. Coach saw it. Just smiled. Winked. Gripped Chuck’s head. Pulled him up before the scorpion could come out. Kissed him. Soft. Not like he did with me. Not like Greg. Then he pulled back. Hand to Chuck’s cheek. A nod. No. Chuck froze, hurt in his face. Coach said something. Chuck looked at me. Nodded, said something back. He moved to me, eyes on my shaved body. “He said you’re here to take cock. Said you want it,” he told me, his cock brushing against my lips. I didn’t move. Just looked him in the eye. Chuck held it there. Breath shallow. Something shifted. His voice cracked, “I want to be looked at like everyone looks at you." I wanted to say something. Wanted to tell him I understood. But his cock was right there. Hard. Loose skin covering it. I leaned in. Didn’t speak. Just looked at it, tongue out. Started to slowly tease it. Savor every drop of precum. His hands gripped my face. Pushed his cock past my lips. He pulled back, pushed in. Firm. I didn’t fight it. After all I was there to take it. His grip tightened. He tilted my head, angled his cock. Then Chuck’s hand slid lower. Grabbed my shoulders. Pushed me back. I pulled him with me. Lay there. Legs spread. He was on top of me. My sweaty thighs wrapped around him. Skin on skin. He didn’t say anything. Just waited. “Fuck me,” I begged. Then his mouth was on mine. Tongue deep. His grip on me tightened. Mine dug into his back. I shifted under him. Showed him I needed it. His mouth moved to my neck. Saw the mark Greg had left. He moaned. Licked it. I felt his cock at my hole. He leaned back just enough to look at me. Eyes dark. Breath heavy. Then shoved it in. “You feel good,” he said, panting. “Better than I imagined.” I rolled my hips once, slow. He groaned. Shifted on top of me. I felt the heat, the tension, the way he held back. Just barely. He fucked me like it was just him and me. Alone. He leaned in. His mouth found mine again. Tongue explored, sure. Hips met mine with more intent. I felt the tension break. He pressed down. I moaned. Chased every push, every kiss, every breath. Could feel he was getting close. I was too. Every time he shoved into me. “Fucking do it, Chuck,” I begged. “Fucking give me your load.” "Fuck yeah. Here it is!” he grunted, pounding hard into me. Same time I came. Shot my load. Shook under him. He stayed on top of me. In me. Like he couldn’t let go. His breath hot. Sweat dripping. Around us the guys were going at it. Grunts. Moans. No one looked. No one stopped. He bore down harder. I didn’t want him to stop. His lips brushed my neck. My hands gripped his back. Slick. Warm. I could hear someone cumming across the room. He shifted. Met my eyes. “I’ve jacked off thinking about this,” he said, his hand sliding over my smooth pecs. Like he was trying to memorize how they felt. “But it was you fucking me.” I smiled. Just enough to let him think it could happen. Not yet. But maybe. For some reason, no one else came near. They kept their distance. Left us there, watched the crowd go at it. I saw Greg. Mouth on one of the regular’s cock. Sam. Big guy, thick hairy chest. Greg’s hands slid up his pecs. Gripped his nips. Sam groaned, shot. Didn’t bother with Greg after that. Just got up, toweled up, left. Greg didn't care, just swallowed the load. Concentrated on the cock now fucking him. Never had seen this guy before. Older. Older than Coach. Just a regular normal guy. He gripped Greg’s shoulders. Fingers tight. Wedding ring obvious. He slammed into Greg. I watched how Greg was into it, breath tight. Coach had told me that Greg’d been trained to take all cocks. To want all cocks. Had told me I’d be trained too. Till I’d be going out hunting for it. I sighed. Knew it had started. At school. Cocks always on my mind. It wouldn’t be long till I would. Just had to wait till Coach said I could. Then I saw it. Older guy froze. Flooded Greg’s hole. He pulled out quick, toweled up. Left. Greg saw me, smiled. Moved over next to Coach. After a bit more, guys started leaving. They’d all gotten off. Then it was just us. Chuck and me. Coach and Greg watching. Chuck finally pulled out. Leaned in. Kissed me, quick. Glanced at Coach. Gave a nod. No words. Then walked out, easy. Like he knew this wasn’t over. The three of us then cooled down. Stretched. Dressed. At the lockers, I saw it. Chuck’s number, tucked in my shoe. Coach took it, read it, chuckled. “He’s Pete’s. Once he’s done. Been decided,” he said, looking at me, and handed me the number. “You’re gonna help.” I nodded. Knew what that meant. Chuck was the one Coach had said was ready to start tonight.

When I first came out I hooked up with an older guy who showed me a pic of a friend that had a tattoo of monkeys coming out of his hole. It was hilarious.

Best! My bf and I have a Daddy that we meet up with. We always clean up his cock. Nothing like tasting cum and your bf’s juices after a fuck.

I’ve only topped twice when I first came out. It was obvious after the second time that it wasn’t for me. Rarely,I’ve been with a few guys who figured I’d be topping up until I spread and they figure it out. Basically: Uh OK, and they get into it. 😉. I’d say 98% of the time they want to top me so no issues.

Coach Sanders 2 I must’ve blacked out because when I came to, Coach wasn’t in the room. I was wrecked. And goddamn, I felt it. Should’ve panicked. Should’ve curled up and lost it. But I didn’t. I smiled. Remembered I came to him. My hand slid down to my hole. Butt plug was still in me. Fuck, it felt good to be plugged up. Meant Coach’s load was still in me. Suddenly, I heard him at the door. “You’re back. How you feeling?” he smiled, giving me the once over. He stepped in, leaned against the frame. Eyes stayed on me. Could tell he liked what he saw. I just lay there. Played with my hole. Waited for whatever came next. He stood there, looked at me like that. So I said it. Straight out told him. Wanted to be poz. Wanted him to know I still meant it. Made sure he knew it wasn’t just the Tina talking. Yeah, I’d figured it out. He’d booty bumped me. And I liked how it made me feel. But told him I felt like crap. Coach didn’t say a word at first. Just stood there, listening. “Comes with the territory,” he said, handing me a glass of OJ, and sat down. “First time can knock you sideways.” He played with my hole while I drank. Then pulled out the plug. I moaned. Felt empty. I stretched out, opened up for him. He saw it. Grinned. “Hungry hole on you, huh?” I didn’t need to answer. He knew. His hand moved down, spread my hole. Checked to see if I was leaking. He chuckled, flexed his fingers. Told me I’d taken it all in. Then he opened the drawer. Pulled out a glass pipe, held it up between us. “This’ll help,” he growled. “I’ve got more loads. You’ll take’em all.” “Fuck yeah, Coach,” I moaned, watching the pipe catch the light. “Please.” “You ever smoked one of these?” he asked, brushing the bowl with his thumb. I shook my head. He smiled. “Watch close.” Then he lit it, drew in. Held it. Let the white smoke drift out. He passed it to me, the stem still warm from it. From the smoke. From his lips. I took it, fingers brushed his. Coach leaned in. Told me to take a hit. Hold it. Let it sit. I did. He gave the nod. I let it go. Cloud spread between us. He gave another nod. Kind that said I wasn’t done yet. “You want more, boy,” Coach said, telling me my truth. “Don’t pretend you don’t. Deeper this time.” Said he wanted me to feel it. I lifted the pipe again. He lit it. I breathed in the way he’d shown me. It burned sharper now but didn’t hold back. Wanted to show him I could take it. Wanted to feel it settle the way he said it would. He put his hand on my shoulder. Squeeze told me I was doing it right. He watched me hold the cloud. Testing how far I’d go. My lungs were full, pecs tight. He liked that. The look said it all. I was getting the feel for the pipe. Tina was kicking in. All I could think of was getting another load. I blew out. He leaned in, slow. Rubbed the warm bowl on my bulge. “You’re learning fast,” he said, watching me get hard. “Gotta another load ready for you, boy.” His mouth brushed mine. Soft at first, then deeper. Our tongues met, rough and hungry. But his took control. Slipped past my lips. Taste of the cloud still on his tongue, sharp and thick. His hard cock rubbed my abs. I looked down. Saw it pulsing. Tattoo was right there. Clear as day. “Goddamn,” he grunted. “You got me so hard. No hiding it now.” “Naw,” I groaned. “Don’t need to. Ever. Fucking breed me.” “Sit on it,” he barked, holding up a bottle of poppers. “Ride it.” I grabbed it. Took a couple of hits. Spread my cheeks and went down. Felt him splitting me open. Shit, it felt like home. Where I belonged. Tina was making my hole twitch, wanted cock. It was all the way in. The look on his face told me it felt good wrapped around his cock. I leaned in. Kissed him. Felt his cock grow even more. I broke the kiss. Started fucking myself. Pushed Up. Down. Did squats. Coach grabbed my pecs. Fingers twisted, pulled at my nips. I moaned. Felt the pain connected with my hole. He saw my reaction, smiled. I whimpered. Kept up the fucking. Tightened my hole, slid on his shaft. He was getting close. I could see it. Could feel it. He grabbed the sheet with his fists. “Feel that?” he growled. “You’re not leaving ‘til you’re pozzed. Ya hear me, boy?” “Shit yeah!” I moaned. “Don’t wanna, Coach.” “Fucking beautiful musclejock. Show me. Lats wide, pecs steady,” he growled. “Show me everything” I flared my lats, wide and clean. He lifted his hands, grabbed my pecs. Pulled on my nips. I groaned. Held the pose. Breath tight. Muscles stretched. His palms skimmed down my ribs. Fingers traced the flare, slow and firm. Mapped every inch. He looked at me, started fucking. My hole was on fire from the clouds. From his fuck. From my nips. I grabbed them. Pinched them with my fingernails. Fuck! “Fucking gotta work on those,” he grunted, pushing me on my back. “Your pecs’ll pop even harder with a big set of nips. “Work’em!” I moaned, tightening my grip on them. Fucking surge went through me. Down to my hole. “Fuck, I’m close,” he panted, sweat dripping, soaking the sheet. “You gonna be ready for Coach’s cock, boy? Anytime I want it?” “Fuck, Coach,” I told him, “Anytime.” Coach roared, shooting deep inside me. I couldn’t take it anymore. Hole tightened on his shaft. My cock exploded. Soaked my crusted pouch with another load. He was on top of me, panting. Pulled out. My hole dripped. Gaped. He grabbed a bigger plug. I nodded. Had to make sure it took he said. It stretched me out even more. Locked in the load. He sat back, smiled. “Clean,” he ordered, waving his cock at me. “You do it after every load. Got that?” I crawled to him. “Yeah, Coach,” I answered, seeing my juices dripping off it. Went down on him. Lips, tongue around his cock. Deep and messy. I grunted. Tasted it. “Goddamn jockpig,” he smiled. “Fucking taste your hole.” We kept going. Didn’t leave his place. Coach kept me high. Kept me full of loads. At some point it happened. Don’t remember when. Don’t even know how many days I’d been there. Coach said he was taking me to the gym. Not the one he gave me the membership for, but another. Already arranged it. I couldn’t say no, not that I would’ve. He handed me a pair of old sneakers. Told me I didn’t need anything else. The smell hit hard. I sniffed it, deep. Sweat, musk, something else hit me. I checked the size. Size 11. Same as mine. Figured it belonged to one of his other boys. Yeah, by then knew I wasn’t the only one. Not that it would’ve mattered. "Come on, boy," Coach said, grinning, looking me over. I had the look now. Strapped up, hole ready for more. “Next phase starts now.” He didn’t wait. Grabbed the keys. Headed for the garage. I followed. Jockstrap clung to me, sweat cooling, muscles tight. He opened the car door, waited. I climbed in. Skin bare to the seat. The leather stuck to me. Warm. Slick. Coach got in without a word. Just started the car. We didn’t talk on the drive. His hand played with my plug. Windows were tinted. No one could see. But felt exposed anyway like he wanted me that way. We pulled up to a brick building with no sign out front. No windows. Just a steel door and a keypad. Coach punched in the code. Didn’t look at me. Just said, “My DNA is taking over. You know that, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Just walked in, expected me to follow. I did. Inside, it was dark. Not pitch black but dim. The air was thick, warm. Smelled like iron. Sweat. The floor was concrete. Scuffed and stained. Walls bare except for hooks and straps. Just racks, bars, chains, and a couple beat up benches. Everything stripped down to basics. He told me to hit a set. Get pumped. I was already shredded. Dehydrated. Been with him long enough it showed. Skin tight over muscle, everything cut and sharp. I knew what the pump would do. Fill me out. Make every line pop. Every vein rise. I’d look unreal. I stepped up, grabbed the bar. Felt the cold steel press into my palms. My body was ready, still wired. I gave him everything. Didn’t hold back. Every rep I gave clean, every breath sharp. Muscles flared, veins high, like my skin couldn’t hold it all. Wanted him to see it. How far I’d go for him. No hesitation. No limit. If he asked for more, I’d give it. If he pushed, I’d take every bit. I wanted him to know I was his. Suddenly, the door opened on the other side of the room. Coach was beside me by the time it swung wide. I turned. Saw the smile on his face. Big. Proud. He stepped forward, raised his voice. “Guys, gather round,” he called out. They came in quick. Young jocks first, bodies pumped. All strapped. Some my age, some pushing 30. Then others came in. Not like the young ones. These had muscle settled in. Mid-thirties, forties maybe. Then came the older ones. Thick pecs, heavy arms, backs wide. Built like Coach. These guys looked me over without saying much, didn’t need to prove anything. Already had. These two wore gym clothes or just a jockstrap. A few were naked, stood easy. Coach squeezed my shoulder. “This is Ben. My new boy. Been loading him up since Friday.” A couple nodded. One of the older guys let out a low whistle. I stood there. Pecs out. Body pumped. Jock full. Heat in the room was thicker now. Eyes were on me. Could feel it. Coach stood next to me. In control. I stayed there. Didn’t hide anything. Didn’t want to. I’d done enough of that. One of the younger ones came up. He had size. Shoulders thick, arms pumped, pecs solid. Trained hard, no doubt. Skin smooth, hairless, like he’d shaved that morning. He clocked me fast. Eyes narrowed. Saw the difference. Saw I was bigger, fuller, sharper. But didn’t blink. Held onto his one edge. I still had hair. Was natural. He circled slow. Eyes dragging across my pecs. My arms, my legs, my ass. His jaw tightened. Not angry. Just trying to hide the envy. Saw it anyway. “So, you’re the new one,” he said, voice tense. “Coach said he was playing the long game. Waiting for the one.” I didn’t answer. Just held his stare. Let him take it in. My body spoke for itself. He reached out, fingers brushed my bicep. Not rough, not soft, just enough to feel the size. “Damn,” he muttered, admitting it. “He really built you right.” Coach watched from the side. Arms crossed. Said nothing. Let it play out. I saw the shift in the boy’s eyes now. Less challenge, more want. Wasn’t just sizing me up anymore. I held his stare, steady and open. Body still warm from the set. Skin flushed. Pecs rising slow. He was close now. Hands on my shoulders. I didn’t pull away. Leaned in just enough to let him know I felt it too. My hands moved to his waist. Pressed my fingers into the cut lines of his hips. “Not bad yourself,” I offered up, letting my touch say more. “Poz, yeah?” He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at me. Eyes steady. Lips parted. He moved closer. Nodded. “Why else would I be here,” he smirked. Coach stepped forward, eyes on both of us. Didn’t speak right away. Just looked. Took in the shift between us. His hand cupped my ass. “Greg’s one of mine. My last one. Graduated just before your freshman year. Gonna breed you. Pass the torch. Pass on my DNA.” You could see it in his face. Coach was proud of this one. Didn’t need to say it. The way he watched us said enough. Watched us feel each other like we couldn’t help it. We were both his work. We stood there together. Built right. Built to be seen. Built to be wanted. And we knew it. Guys were watching. Didn’t care they were. We kept touching. Let our hands explore. We were showing off. You could feel the tension rising. Guys were getting worked up. Waited to see what we’d do. “Good,” Coach said, stepping back. “Get to it, boys.” Greg leaned in. His mouth brushed mine. I kissed him back. Let it build. His hand gripped my pecs. Mine stayed on his waist. Both breathing harder now. Bodies close. Cocks getting harder. He tasted like sweat, salt. Mixed with clouds. His bulge pressed into mine. I pulled him tighter. Felt the way he fit against me. His hand moved to my hole. Felt the plug. Greg broke the kiss. Lips parted. Eyes dark, dilated. “How many you take?” he asked, pulling at it. “Got a 4-day load waiting for you.” I didn’t answer. Was a blur. I’d lost count. Just kissed him again. Slower this time. His hand gripped the plug. Pulled it out. I moaned. Kissed him deeper. “Fucker,” he growled, finger sliding in my hole. Not fast. Not soft. “Your hole was made for it.” He didn’t rush. Just let me feel him. I groaned. Begged him to breed me. He stepped back, nodding. Stood there. Showed me what he had to offer. Thighs solid, hips locked, cock stretched the pouch. “I was Coach’s last. Means I’m the one who breeds you next,” he grunted, dropping his jockstrap. “That’s how it works.” He grabbed me. Led me to one of the benches. Set me where he wanted me. On my back. On the edge. Legs spread. Hole ready. He stepped up. Cock hard, leaking toxic precum. There it was. Biohazard tattoo on top of the shaft. Didn’t have to hide it. No need. Was what he was bred for. That’s when Coach stepped in. Grabbed my wrist. Tied it to the stand. I didn’t know what was happening. Didn’t really care. Was gonna get Greg’s load. Coach did the other. Straps were snug, not tight. Just enough to hold me there. Greg stayed close, watched. Breathing slow. His hand slid up my thighs. Fingers circled the edge of my hole. Coach didn’t speak. Just wrapped a strap around my bicep. “Best part comes next,” Greg told me, almost growling. “Coach told me he’d do it tonight.” I figured it would happen at some point. Wasn’t stupid. Been high for days now. Just nodded, “Fucking do it. I want it.” I felt the prick. Held my breath. Saw the barrel fill up with blood. “Here it goes,” Coach grunted, pushing in the slam. It hit me, fast. Chest locked up. Heart kicked up fast, pounded in my chest. Throat went raw, scratchy. Everything got hazy. Thoughts scattered. But it felt good. Way too good. Was fully in it, no second thoughts. It had me. “Oh fuck,” I kept saying. Couldn’t stop myself. Just kept coming out. I tugged at the straps, not trying to get loose. Just needing something to hold onto. Greg rammed into me. Making sure to go deep. “You’re gone,” he laughed, holding his leaking cock. “Completely gone.” “Yeah, fucking give it to me. More,” I begged, not thinking about anything else but the load in his balls. He stepped up. The Tina had me open. Felt his cock at my hole. He grabbed at my pouch. Shoved it in. I lost it. Knew Coach wanted this. Planned it. Greg’s hands moved up my abs. Grabbed my nips. Tugged and pinched. My moans grew louder. He was completely in. Felt his cock press on my prostate. My cock jumped. “Aw fuck!” I whimpered. Then the breeding started. His cock pulled out. Deep growl came out of him. He punched back in. Hard. Fucked me like an animal. Made sure his cock landed solid. Like he wanted me to feel it for days. To never forget it. I bucked forward, breath caught. Cock hit me every time. Made me leak. Soaked my pouch. Coach scooped it up. Put his slimed finger to my lips. “Let him take you there,” Coach grunted, feeding it to me. My eyes rolled back. Tongue out. Accepted where I was going. I’d just be a hole now. Hole for any poz cock Coach chose. I gripped the cock. Greg’s thrusts slowed. Stretched out. “Fucking tight, bro,” he moaned. He kept it up. Pounded me. He was getting close. Started growling. Told him to give it to me. Felt him stiffen and pulse. Shake. “Goddamn fuck. Can’t hold back,” he grunted, spewing his poz load in me. I wrapped my legs around him. Held him tight. Wanted every drop. His was the only the second cock to do it. Knew it wouldn’t be the last tonight. Coach stood there, watched. Cock at attention. The guys went crazy. Greg pulled out. Went to Coach, dropped. Took the scorpion in his mouth. “So I know those of you who don’t have my DNA want to experience my new musclejock. But tonight, this hole’s only for those who have it. No one else until it’s done,” Coach announced, stroking Greg’s face. There, Coach made it public. I was his. Muscle built for his DNA. To take it. Incubate it. And after what just happened, I knew I’d pass it on. Just like Greg. Just like some of the others lining up. There had to be. Again, not stupid. A round of groans and cheers filled the room. Then Coach grabbed Greg. Shoved him down. Started ramming his cock down Greg’s hole. Greg just stayed there. Didn’t have a problem taking it. Been taking it for years. I got jealous. Wanted the load. Begged Coach for it. He just kept it up. Gripped Greg harder. Fucking slowed but grew more intense. I knew what was coming. A poz load. For him. Not me. I begged harder. “Don’t worry, boy,” Coach grunted. “I’ll be fucking that hole of yours. This here’s a reward for this one. He’s been waiting a long time.” Greg just looked at me. Cock greased from my fuck. Eyes steady the whole time. Showed me he still mattered to Coach. Then Coach pulled out. Scorpion showing. Its tail ready to strike. “Fucking did good, boy!” Coach yelled, shoving it back in. “Here it is!” The guys went wild. Hollered. Clapped. Some had already started with each other. They were fucking, sucking. Couldn’t help it. Others begged for a chance with me. “I know, I know,” he laughed, eyes scanning the crowd. “But give it time. When it’s official, he’ll be back, begging for any poz cock. Until then, Greg’s here. Use him. Play amongst yourselves.” Then another guy walked up. Older. Shorts and a tight polo. Not as old as Coach. More like 40s. Coach didn’t wait. Pushed Greg to the side. Went to new guy. They kissed, hard. Coach’s hand gripped the back of his neck, held him there. Rough. It was possession. Coach owned him. Made sure I saw it. Greg watched, jaw tight, eyes low. He knew what it meant. Then he got up. Anger in his eyes. Closed the space between us. “Not done with you yet, fucker. Face up,” Greg growled, refusing to be left out. I did what he said. Slimed cock now at my lips. “Take it.” He gobbed a wad on it. I opened up. Took it in. Started cleaning. Tasted my hole like Coach taught me. Coach ignored him. Didn't want to deal with it. Just kept on kissing. Coach finally broke it. Kept his hand on new guy. “Pete,” Coach said. Just said it like he was stating a fact. “My first. He coaches at a top prep school on the East Coast.” Coach looked at me, letting it land. His pride sat heavy. Letting me know I was part of something bigger. Pete moved between my thighs. Looked at me, eyes steady, mouth still wet. Coach’s hand stayed on his neck, fingers curled. Pete shifted, just enough to show he was ready. Waited for the signal. Coach gave it. “Fucking sloppy hole,” Pete growled, fingering it. Wiped up part of the dripping load. Tasted it. “Shit yeah.” He spread me open. Wanted to see how much I could take. Then gave me a wicked smile, “He wanted me here for a reason. You’ll see why.” Pete unzipped his shorts. Didn’t bother to drop them. His cock was fucking huge! Solid, surrounded by pubes. Wide Jacob’s ladder ran down under the shaft. Tatted. Scorpion holding biohazard in its claws on top. He hadn’t been a boy in a long time. Was one of Coach’s studs now. I lifted my hips, Greg still in my mouth. Coach nodded, slow. Like I’d passed another test. I wanted it. Wanted to feel it shred my hole. Pete rammed into me. Didn’t bother to warn me. Pain made me scream. Loud. Coach watched, eyes sharp, jaw set. He was letting it all happen. But it was still his scene. His rules. “Fucking breed me,” I yelled out between the hurt. Then went back to Greg. Sucked him. Tried to take my mind off the pain. But it didn’t last. The slam had completely taken over. Made my hole ache in a good way. Let Pete know it was good. “FUCK!” Pete grunted, jabbing the ladder in. “Fucking better than any of the others.” Greg heard that. Flinched. Then grabbed my head. Shoved in, hard. It was personal now. I felt it. Piss spewed out, filled my mouth. I could taste it. Salty. Sharp. It lit something in me. Hot. Raw. Fuck it tasted good! Should’ve spit it out but didn’t. Swallowed. I was into it. Greg saw. His face shifted. No more anger. Something else. Like respect. He saw it now. Knew I deserved my spot in all this. He bent down, kissed me. We swapped piss. Then he gave me more. Pete watched. Impressed. Rammed my hole, harder. It dripped. Blood-tinged cum ran out on the concrete floor. Sametime, piss out my mouth. I begged for more. To fuck me harder. Give another load. More of Coach’s DNA. More piss. “Gonna fuck the shit out of ya, boy,” Pete growled, sweat pouring off him. The guys were into it. “Fucking musclejock! Take it! I want that hole!” they shouted. Filled the room with it. Pete kept at it. Rammed his cock in me. Was a fucking jackhammer. This was why he was here. Coach didn’t say a word. Just held himself back. Ready to stop it, if it got out of hand. I let Coach know I didn’t want it to stop. I pushed back. Fucked myself on Pete. Guys came closer. Circled us. Some stroked. Then Pete stiffened. “Shit!” he barked. Repeated it until he shot his load in my wrecked hole. Pete looked down at me, surprised how far he’d gone. That I just took it. No problem. He took a deep breath. Pulled out slowly. “Goddamn,” he panted, looking at Coach. “Not gonna lie. This is the one. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him. Get him into the Ivy close by. Have him there on my squad until he’s ready.” Coach only smiled. Pointed to another guy. Told him he was next. After that, I took more. Only thinking about loads. Coach kept me spun. Just enough to keep me going. Not enough to forget what was happening. Said he wanted me to remember it. Every fuck. Every load. At some point, Coach told me I’d had enough. His voice was final. No room to argue. Told him I wanted more. He knew that. That was the point. Coach plugged me. Then reached down, gripped my arm, helped me up. His touch was firm. Steady. I leaned into him, legs still shaky. He didn’t say anything. Just kept walking me to the exit. Like this was part of it. Like I was supposed to be seen. Said we were going home. I needed to rest up. It’d been a long week. Along the way, the guys stood back smiling. Some nodded. Some watched. Like they’d been through it themselves. Coach drove us home, quiet. One hand on the wheel, other resting on my thigh. He led me in, didn’t say much. The place was warm. He took off my jock. First time since I got there, naked. Nothing on. Totally exposed. He could see what shape I was in. Smiled. Took me to shower. Got in with me. Scrubbed me down, carefully. Dried and wrapped me in a towel, then helped me into bed. No pressure to take another load. Sheets were soft. Room still. He pulled the blanket over me, brushed my hair back. Stayed there a moment. Long enough for me to feel it. Then I slept. Felt like forever. I woke up slow. Sheets warm. Muscles sore in a good way. Coach’d been in the kitchen. Been up for hours. He heard me. Came in. Handed me juice. “You need to head out soon,” he said, checking my hole. “Parents’ll be back tomorrow.” I nodded, rubbed my face, tried to wake up. He tossed the jockstrap on the bed. The one I wore the whole time. “Leave the underwear,” he told me. “From now on, it’s jockstraps. You’re a musclejock now.” I looked at it in my hand. Was wet with a fresh load. Coach stood there, arms crossed. Waiting to see what I’d do. I nodded once, slow. It made sense. No more hiding. Just muscle. Don’t know what came over me next. I sniffed it. Licked it. Chewed it. Wanted to taste Coach. “Fucking jockpig,” he growled, "Can’t get enough loads, can ya.” I just grunted. Got up. Put it on. Coach stood back, satisfied. I’d proved I was his now. And looked the part. I got dressed in my street clothes. Coach walked me to the door. No speech. No long look. Handed me a gym bag full of jockstraps. Turned out later some were used. From the school locker room. He knew me. “You know what’s next,” was all he said, hand on my shoulder. I nodded. Stepped out. Sun was down again. Air felt different. Like I’d left something behind and picked up something better. The next days I stood taller. Pecs out. Shoulders set. I wasn’t trying. Just felt right. People noticed. I was a musclejock now. And it showed. It hit a couple of weeks later. My body heavy. Head fogged. Couldn’t keep food down. Could barely stand. I texted Coach. Said he wanted to see me. He showed up. Didn’t even ask. “Just checking in,” he told mom at the door. Mom smiled, stepped aside. “You were always there for him when he needed you. Good to see you back in his life,” she said. “Ben’s up in his room. Second door on the right.” Coach stepped in, nodded. “He’s one of mine,” he told her. Like that explained everything. Mom just smiled. He walked up the stairs, down the hall. Leaned in the doorway, arms crossed. That half-smile already there. I groaned, sat up slow. Felt like I’d been hit by a truck. He stepped in. Shut the door. Pulled the blanket off, sat on the edge of the bed. “Fucker,” he smiled, seeing me in a jock. I’d done what he told me. He played with my hole. “It took. You’ll bounce back. When you do, I’m taking you to make it official. Things’ve changed. You’ve got purpose. You’ve got me in you.” I let that sit. Nodded, wiped my face. My hole was coming back to life. “Shit yeah. Can’t wait, Coach. Must be it.” We sat there. Talked about what happened. Talked more about the time we spent apart. We settled everything. New start. I got tired, so he left. Told me to let him know when I felt better. Coach picked me up early that morning. Nodded. Pointed to the passenger seat. We didn’t talk much on the way. The clinic was quiet. Clean. He checked me in, sat beside me. They ran the test. Told me results would take a day or two. Coach didn’t seem worried. Said he knew the results. It was obvious. Just wanted to make it official like he told me. He dropped me home after. Told me to rest. Said he’d come back when it was time. I waited a day. Checked my phone. Still nothing. Felt anxious. Couldn’t sit still. Next day Coach texted. Results were in. Be ready in ten. Didn’t even think to ask why he got notified and not me. I sat quiet on the way. Hoping it really took. Not some stupid flu. We walked in. Nurse called my name. Coach stood first. Followed him into the room. Nurse handed over the envelope. Coach took it before I could. Told nurse to leave, he’d handle it. Coach opened it slow, read the results. Handed me the paper. I scanned it fast. Exhaled. Didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath. I laughed. Couldn’t help it. Felt it in my chest, in my gut. I was poz! Coach watched me, nodding slow. “It’s official,” he grinned, hugging me. “You got my DNA, boy!” I nodded back, still laughing. “I’m a fucking poz musclejock, Coach!” He laughed. Grabbed my ass. Slapped it. “Damn right you are. My place.” The drive took forever. Coach tapped the wheel like he couldn’t wait. I just wanted another load. We finally got inside. He watched me strip to my jockstrap. “Nope,” he barked, surprising me. “This one. Always this one here.” He held the jockstrap out. Crusted, stained, stench reeking from it. The one I got pozzed in. The one I wore home when I left here. Bagged it up when I got home. Added a bunch of loads to it. But couldn’t find it later. Couldn’t ask mom. Figured she’d tossed it, too embarrassed to say anything. Coach told me he saw it in my room when came over. Snuck it out. Told me not to wash it. Ever. Would remind me getting pozzed. I nodded. Dropped the one I had on. Put on the one I would wear here. The smell hit me. Been stewing in the bag. I looked up at Coach. Grinned. “Best fucking smell. Ever.” I moaned, stepping up to him. Now hard. Marking the pouch more. Coach pulled me to him. Slipped a finger in my hole. I was prepped. Did what he told me. Always ready. I stood there, pecs rising, heart thudding, grinning. Told him I missed his cock. Been thinking about it. Been craving it. Not just his load. It fucking me. I tightened up. “Yeah?” Coach growled, “Been awhile, huh?” I nodded. Kissed him. Wanted to show him how grateful I was. For the workouts. For the pozzing. I pulled off his polo. Dropped to my knees, took off his shoes and socks. Unbuckled his belt. Unzipped his pants, pulled them down. He stood there. Naked. Hair everywhere. Pecs, arms, stomach, legs. Black mixed with gray, same as his beard, same as the tight crew cut on his head. His skin was sun-worn, deep tan lines with a few rough patches. And there it was. My first cock. The one that did it. He stepped in closer. Slid his cock across my lips. I took it in. Felt the scorpion sliding over my tongue. Its stinger leaking. Fuck! It tasted even better now. Knew its venom was finally flowing through my veins. Leaking from my cock. Had the proof. “Fuck yeah, boy,” Coach groaned, “Let’s celebrate.” I moaned. Knew exactly what he meant. Coach didn’t look back. Just walked to the bedroom. I followed behind. Saw the pipe on the nightstand, waiting for me. Shit! It’d been a while. “Go on, boy. Your folks know you’ll be here all weekend,” he said, hands sliding over my pecs, flicking my nips. “Said I was gonna get you started on a new program. Ready to compete.” I felt those words land. My voice cracked. “Didn’t think you saw that in me.” He nodded. “Yeah, that was always part of the plan.” Said it like it was obvious. Like I should’ve known. I swallowed hard, pecs tight. Wanted to prove him right. Prove to him I had what it took to compete. His fingers went lower, brushed my abs. Traced down my trail. Then he slipped his hand in my pouch. Held my junk. “Next step. Hair’s gotta go. Gonna get you smooth.” Voice thick now, “Ready to poz.” “Shit, yeah,” I moaned, remembering Greg. Smooth. Slick from sweat. I looked in the mirror. Imagined me shaved. No hair, just clean skin with hard lines. Pecs shaved down, gap cut deep. Glutes, my hole, smooth. Would all hit different. Every flex would show more. Every pump beg for attention. My bush? I trimmed it. Shaved? It’d pop. Guys wouldn’t just stare. Would beg for it! I grabbed the pipe, still buzzed from the news. Coach stood behind me. Cock at my hole. I slid the stem between my lips. Lit the bowl. Drew a cloud, just as his cock went in. “Fuck!” I gasped, letting out the cloud. I pushed back. Wanted him all the way in. We stood there. Cloud wrapped around us. I passed the pipe. He told me to do all I wanted. I smiled. Kept on. Felt it start to work. Coach’s cock throbbed in me. No rush to fuck this time. Didn’t need to. It’d happened. I passed him the pipe. He took a deep hit. Pulled his cock out and pushed back in one time. Then took another hit. Smoked out the bowl. I was ready. He grabbed me. Lifted me. Threw me on the bed. “Fuck. Please.” I begged. “Yeah?” he laughed, cock buried in me. “Still begging for it? Good boy. You’re hooked." He started fucking me. Stretched me open. It’d been a while. He dug in. Hit my spot. On the way in. On the way out. That's when I felt it. My hole throbbed. “DEEPER!” I yelled. Begged. Wanted him to plow into me. “Fuck your poz musclejock!” He kept it up. Felt every inch of his shaft in me. Fucked me harder. Deeper. Sound of our sweaty bodies slapping against each other filled the room. My head fell back, eyes rolled up. Clenched down hard to keep him inside. Coach growled, sped up the fucking. His balls pulled up. He tensed. “FUCKING SHIT!” he yelled, shooting into me. “TAKE IT!” I was too into it to move. Just felt him on top of me. Felt his weight pushing in me. Then he pulled out. I stayed there, breathing heavy, body wired. Still caught in it. Still wanting more. “We’re not done,” he growled, motioning to the bag of Tina. “Got all weekend.” I blinked up at him. Smiling. “And next time you come over,” he said, “I’ve got a surprise for you.” My stomach flipped. Not fear. Not nerves. Just wanting. He didn’t explain. Just packed the pipe.

I guess I’m lucky. My PCP gave me an Rx for 60 as a 30 day supply. Costs about $10 for me. My PCP is gay so that could be why.

Definitely! Imagine me! I was an innocent college student 😇at the time. 😉

Never got caught but after a long night of being out one night in college, I went with my new bf at the time back to his parents where he lived. I was introduced with a huge ass beard burn and hickey on my face. He told his parents we’d be in his bedroom. Parents looked a bit shocked. His dad asked why was he telling them. Bf told them, “Just in case you see us in bed together.” They didn’t say anything else and they never came in. I was surprised he was telling them.

Hey guys. I’ve been thinking about trying a different direction for a story. It includes a new theme. I hope you like it. Coach Sanders I think deep down I always knew I was gay. It was just there, in the back of my head, waiting for me to quit pretending. Hard to believe now, but back in high school I was a chubby geek. I used to hide behind baggy clothes and spend more time online than outside. My body made that clear. The thought of showering in front of the guys in gym made my stomach twist. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t about being small down there. That wasn’t it. It’s that I knew they’d laugh at my naked body. So, I’d pretend I had somewhere to be or wait by my locker until I could clear out unnoticed. And because I was basically a nobody, I got away with it. Thing is, I used to stare at the jocks, hoping they wouldn’t notice. All the time I’d just tell myself I was looking at them because I wanted a body like theirs. I even kept saying that when I started watching gay porn. But I was only jacking off to solo stuff and imagine my body like that. So, it was ok. But by senior year, I decided to do something about it. So, I hit up Coach Sanders about using the weights. He’s in his fifties, fit, serious. The kind of old school coach who still wears a whistle. I stood there, nervous. Even though I was intimidated, he never gave me shit and kinda watched out for me if the other guys messed with me. That’s what gave me the nerve to tell him I wanted to start on the weights and get in shape. He just sat there, looking me over for second before straightening up. “I’ve been watching you, kid. You’ve got potential,” he told me, standing up and putting a hand on my shoulder. “I can see it. Though, the baggy clothes aren’t helping any. It’s obvious you’re trying to hide your body.” I just stood there, his hand on my shoulder. Eyes locked on mine like he was waiting for something. I took a deep breath and told him the problem was that I wasn’t sure about being in the weight room with the other guys. There was no judgment in his eyes, just a quiet nod like he understood. He gave my shoulder a quick squeeze, then turned and said I could come in once everyone had left. Since he taught a couple of history classes, he'd be in his office late. So I started showing up when it was empty. No noise, no eyes on me. Coach barely said anything at first. Just nods when I walked in. But after a couple of days, he noticed I didn’t have a clue. He’d correct my form, show me how to grip the bar, tell me which muscles I should be working on. I listened during all of it. After about a month, he stood beside me watching as I was benching. “Gotta be honest, kid. I didn’t think you’d stick with it,” he said, looking me over, not holding back. But I didn’t flinch. “I’m starting to see a difference.” I looked at myself and didn’t see much. Maybe a little definition, maybe nothing. But he saw it. After that, he started me on a plan and laid out what I should be doing, how often, how heavy. He didn’t ask if I wanted it. He just handed it to me, and I followed. I couldn’t say no. I didn’t want to disappoint him. Sometimes I’d notice him checking me out, studying me. Not in a way anyone else would notice, but I felt it in my gut. And I started thinking about him without meaning to. The way he moved through the gym like he owned the place. Thick arms, veins visible even when he wasn't flexing. His pecs filling out his polo like it’s one size too small. Sometimes I could barely focus when he was in the room. One night, I dropped a dumbbell mid-set. It hit the floor hard. He was next to me before I could reach for it. “You alright?” he asked, eyes steady, handing it to me. “Yeah. Just slipped,” I told him, my eyes down. Embarrassed I’d fucked up. He didn’t say anything. Just stepped behind me, hands light on my elbows. “Keep your shoulders down. You’re pulling too high,” he reminded me. I adjusted, tried to focus. His voice was calm, steady. “Better. Now breathe,” he said in my ear. His body right up against me. I followed his lead, but my form was off. Not from the weight. From him. From the way he moved against me. Like he knew how my body moved and was moving with it. He pressed into me, adjusting me, until I got it right. “Good boy,” he grunted, stepping in front of me. He stood there for a second about to say something but stopped. “It’s getting late. I’ve gotta finish up some papers. See ya tomorrow, kid.” I trained harder after that. Sweated more. Pushed past the burn. I told myself it was about progress, about discipline like Coach told me. But I kept noticing when he was near. I kept noticing when he wasn’t. I could feel myself changing. Coach didn’t say much, but he changed how he talked to me. Less about the weights and more about what it was doing to me. I started losing even more weight and building more muscle. The results were wild. After my workouts I’d head home, still avoiding the showers. Drenched in sweat, I’d run to my room, stripping down to check myself out in the mirror. The months of work were showing, and my late growth spurt was the cherry on top. My pecs were solid from benching. My abs showed real definition. My biceps were tight and defined when I flexed. And my legs, they were strong from all the squats. I felt more confident. Honestly, I was looking better than ever even though I still wore baggy clothes and still hiding my body. Old habits, I guess. The workouts with Coach also started messing with my head. I wasn’t just physically changing. I was starting to figure out it was more than just having a body like the jocks. I’d started looking at different porn. First it was just two guys jacking off together. But after a while, it wasn’t enough. I needed more. There was no going back. I was jacking off to guys making out, sucking, and fucking each other. I’d surf sites looking for all types, not just jocks. Being a tech geek, I’d downloaded a shitload of porn. One night at the end of the school year, I was halfway through my last set. Sweat clung to my skin. My muscles were pumped. I noticed Coach still hadn’t stopped by. He’d usually stopped by but was holed up in his office, something about grading papers. The room felt quieter without him. I finished my reps and hit the showers. Yeah, I was showering there now, but only after workouts. I dried off and walked over to his office. “Gonna get dressed and head out, Coach,” I told him, leaning in the doorway in my towel. Nodding, he looked up, eyes on me, and stood. "Wait,” he said, pulling out a stack of clothes and tossed me a t-shirt. “I’ve been keeping an eye on your progress. Figured it’s time your clothes caught up.” “Thanks, Coach,” I smiled, feeling the soft, thin cotton. I put it on, walked over to mirror, and looked at myself. “Fuck,” I moaned, seeing it stretched across my pecs, and how it gripped my shoulders and biceps. And the best part, I could see it framing my waist. It didn’t hide much. I could feel myself getting hard as I turned to Coach. He stood there, holding a pair of jeans. “Uh,” I stammered, grabbing them. The towel clung to my waist, barely. “I’ll go put them on. Just got out of the shower and don’t got underwear.” “You’re fine, boy,” Coach smiled and sat down, arms behind his head. “They’ll look better without. Besides, it’s just us guys. Go on. I think I got the right size.” Nodding, I turned around, trying to hide my cock. I tossed the towel, bent down, and stepped into them. I could feel how tight they were as I got my junk in and zipped up. “I think I need a bigger size, Coach,” I told him, seeing my bulge in the mirror. “Naw, they’re fine. You’ve got nothing to hide. Your ass looks good in those,” he smiled, ignoring my growing package. He was right. Coach just sat there, not saying another word, just watching me. I thought about the hours I spent to get here. The late nights, just him and me. The way he pushed me. The way his hands stayed a second too long after a good set. The way he looked at me now. I looked over at him, sitting like he always did, arms crossed. His face didn’t give anything away, but something in his eyes kept me looking for a second longer than I should have. I was sure he knew what I was thinking. I took a deep breath and grabbed for my towel. “Thanks, Coach. See you tomorrow,” I nodded, avoiding his eyes, and headed to my locker for the rest of my stuff. I didn’t look back, but I could still feel him watching. I kept thinking about it the whole way home. It was late when I finally got in and just went straight to my room. I sat on the edge of my bed, still stuck on it. Fuck, I was still hard, and my jeans were feeling even tighter. I peeled them off slowly, remembering Coach’s eyes on me, and tossed them on chair. That’s when I noticed the slip of paper sticking out of the pocket. I reached in and pulled it out. Reading it, I smiled. It was a 6-month membership to the gym downtown with a note from Coach. “Proud of you, Ben. You’ve come a long way from that boy coming to me asking for help. Thought you should keep going. Graduation’s next week, so tonight was it. Last session. Good luck.” I stared at it and read it again. He hadn’t said a word to me. Didn’t mention it when he handed me the clothes. The bastard had fucking planned it that way. I lay back, staring at the ceiling. The note still in my hand. After that, I was just kinda going through the motions. Trying to get through the next week. I saw Coach a few times, in the hallway, at the ceremony. But he never looked at me, not once. He didn’t even bother with a ‘bye.’ It was like all that time with him didn’t happen. The only proof I had was when I looked at the mirror. I started at the gym the week after graduation. It wasn’t like the high school weight room where it was just Coach and me. I was still pissed, but more sad than anything. So, I threw myself into the workouts. I lifted harder, ran faster, and pushed until my muscles screamed. Months of grinding at the gym were paying off. But it didn’t feel like it was enough. Not without him seeing it. That summer I came out of my shell. I was meeting new people but always made time for the few old friends I did have. My parents were out of town for the week, and I’d been at a party earlier. Nothing wild, just enough beer cut the edge off after a long week. I got home, kicked off my shoes, stripped, and flopped on my bed. I’d heard a couple of guys at the party talking about an app they had luck with and decided to check it out. I wasn’t even sure why. Sure, I thought about having sex with a guy. How could I not? I had all that porn. But I wasn’t really out. Not to anyone. Not even to myself, not fully. Still, I set up a profile and uploaded a selfie showing off my pecs and abs. I made sure you couldn’t see my face or recognize my room. I started swiping and scrolling. Then I saw him. It was Coach. My thumb froze over the screen. I stared at his profile, my heart pounding. It was definitely him. Even without a face pic, I’d spent enough time with him to know. I tossed my phone on my bed and started pacing. “Fuck it,” I mumbled, grabbing my phone. I scrolled through his pics, finally getting a look at all of him. There it was. His uncut cock. Veins wrapped around his shaft. It was thick, just like I’d imagined it. Yeah, I had noticed his bulge when he spotted me. Before I could chicken out, I sent him a message. “Hey, Coach. It’s me. Ben. I’ve been wondering about you for a while. Seeing you here, kinda answers it.” He replied right away. “Yeah, I was wondering, too. You think I didn’t see the way you looked at me? I had to pretend I didn’t see it at the end. You made that damn gym feel dangerous.” “Dangerous how?” I asked, already guessing the answer. “Like I wanted to lock the door and ask what the hell you were really thinking. But I couldn’t. Not with you still a student.” “I’m not a student anymore,” I wrote, not saying anything else. I could see he was still online but didn’t respond. I started thinking it was stupid to have said it. Then, I saw his message. “True. And if you came over now, I wouldn’t have to worry about it.” Since I still had his number, I just replied, “Text me your address.” That’s when I noticed my hardon. I threw on the t-shirt and squeezed into the jeans he gave me, checked the mirror, and headed over. The quiet streets and warm air made the buzz go down. I wasn’t sure what I wanted from going there. But knew I wanted to see him. When I got there, he opened the door like he’d been waiting. No shirt, just a pair of shorts. He looked good. Like I said, he was in his 50s, around 6'1", solid with broad shoulders, thick arms. I’d seen him almost every day and now his pics, so I knew he was furry. I was surprised how into it I was. He smiled, seeing me in the clothes he gave me. Stepping aside, he let me in and followed him into the living room. “Figured, you might want one,” he said, handing me a drink. He dropped into the chair across from me, stretched his legs out, looked me in the eyes, and drank. “Rum and Coke.” “Thanks,” I said, taking a sip, like I knew what I was doing. The rum was stronger than I expected. Sweet at first, then sharp. He watched me with that calm look, same as always. I leaned back, trying to seem relaxed, but my leg kept bouncing as I looked around. The place was clean, lived in, soft lighting, music low in the background. We talked about nothing really, just catching up. His voice was calm, steady. I took a gulp, trying to settle into it. That helped. I started to relax. That’s when I finally came out and asked why he had dropped my workouts. Not even a heads-up. He shrugged. I nodded and took another gulp. No judgment. I guess I finally understood “Fuck, Ben,” he smiled, “You’ve bulked up since graduation. You should put some more pics up on your profile.” “Yeah?” I smiled, flexing a bit to show off. “You think so? I just put it up tonight.” “Definitely, but you’ll need someone to help you with it,” he grinned, “If you want them done right.” I sat there thinking about it and nodded. He got up with a smile. That's when I noticed his bulge. It was pretty obvious he was getting hard. Still nervous, I sat there, not saying a word. He walked up to me. His bulge almost in my face. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. “If you want, we can do some now and have them up in no time,” he offered, grabbing a camera on the side table. My mouth hung open. I was practically drooling. He stepped back before I could do anything. I looked at him. Really looked. The booze had kicked in. I felt warmer. Relaxed. Open. I wanted to see where this was going. I nodded and stood up, then slowly took off my shirt. The room felt warmer. Or maybe it was me. He guided me over to the wall and adjusted the light. Told me to turn just a little and started shooting. After a few, he said the light would hit better if I showed more. I wasn’t sure. Besides, I was commando, like I’d been since graduation. Looking up, I saw Coach holding out a jockstrap to me. It looked beat up. Stretched out like it’d seen some action. Kinda dirty. Like maybe it hadn’t been washed in a while. “It’s one of my old ones. It’ll do,” he grinned, eyeing my bulge. Looking at it brought me back to all the loads I shot thinking about guys wearing one. Their cocks outlined in the pouches. The look of the straps framing those muscled asses as they got fucked. “Go on boy, put it on. It’ll make that ass pop,” he told me. Fuck if I didn’t want to! I tossed my socks and sneakers. And this time I didn’t hide it. I dropped my jeans. My cock was growing as I stepped out of them. I put on the jockstrap, filling up the pouch with my junk. He didn’t flinch. He just lifted the camera and told me to hold still. I did and let him see me. He circled me, snapping pics, all the time telling me how sexy I was. How I could have my pick of anyone I wanted. I was feeling the buzz mixing with horniness. That’s when I finally noticed he’d tossed his shorts. He was totally hard. I couldn’t keep my eyes off it. I’d seen pics of his cock on the app. But it was the first time I’d seen a hard cock in real life besides my own. What surprised me more was that even hard, his foreskin still covered the tip. Then, he lowered the camera and stepped in close. His hand brushed my cock, light but deliberate, as he adjusted the pouch. “Better,” he sighed and leaned in. His breath was warm, close enough to feel. His eyes locked on mine. I didn’t move, didn’t speak. Then he broke the moment. “Come on,” he smiled, leading me down the hall. “You gotta see yourself.” His bedroom was everything I expected. It felt like him. The large bed was made tight with no mess. The air smelled clean with a hint of sweat. Coach walked me over to the mirror without saying a word. He stood behind me, hands on my shoulders. I could feel his cock poking at my back as I caught his eyes in the mirror. By this time, there was no hiding it. My cock was at full mast. Up, tight against the mesh. I was leaking. For a second, I just stared at the sharp lines carving down from my hips. I ran my hands down them, tracing the V. Something I never thought I’d see on me last year. “Goddamn, boy. If you were mine, I’d keep you strapped 24/7,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around me, and gripped my pecs. “A perfect musclejock.” “Fuck!” I moaned as his fingers spread and played with my nips. "Flex those guns, boy," he said, voice rough. "Show Coach what you built out of that flabby mess you were." My biceps swelled under the challenge. My pecs popped as I clenched and held the tension. He leaned in. His eyes locked on me. I flexed even harder. “That’s it, boy. Show it off,” he grunted in my ear, sliding his hands down my abs until they landed on my hips. He pushed back just enough to make room for his cock and looked at me again. Turning around, I stood there. My cock was practically shredding the frayed pouch. I lifted my chin, just barely. That’s all it took. His hand slid to the back of my neck. His fingers gripped me tightly and pulled me into him. His lips found mine and our tongues started wrestling. I could feel his cock sliding against my abs. Breaking the kiss, he bit my bottom lip and pulled it between his teeth. I groaned. He liked it. I could feel his hand moving down my back and over my ass, his mouth still holding on to me. I wrapped my arms around him. It only made him rougher. He was taking control of me. Letting go, he slipped a couple of fingers in my mouth. “That’s it boy. Show Coach how hungry you are,” he growled. His fingers explored my mouth. I started sucking, covering them in spit. Next thing I know, he bit my neck. I lost it. It was all he needed. His slick fingers were tapping against my hole. I arched, letting him know I wanted it. “Good boy,” he smiled, slipping a finger in, and led me to the bathroom. “Let’s get you ready. Strip and get in.” I saw the chrome attachment shining in the shower and got excited. Fine, I admit it. I’d looked it up. I’d been thinking about being fucked for a while now. I guessed what was going to happen. Never done it myself, but Coach walked me through it. It was awkward at first. But with his hands on me, it made a difference. It was like he’d done this to others before. After a bit, it was obvious I was clean. But Coach grabbed a squirt bottle, and put more in, ‘just to make sure.’ Told me to hold it in for a bit, then I’d be ready. He stood watching me, making sure it wasn’t leaking out. Satisfied, he told me to empty, finish up, and put my jockstrap back on. He’d be in the bedroom waiting for me. I turned on the faucet, hands roaming as I spread lather across my pecs to my nips. I pulled and felt them harden up. The pain was connecting with the tingling in my hole. I moved down to my abs, tracing the deep cuts, then grabbed my junk with both hands and started rubbing. I’d never felt so fucking turned on. “Hurry up, boy!” Coach barked, getting me out of the moment. “Get your ass in here, NOW!” I realized he was waiting for me. I called out to him, “On my way, Coach!” I rinsed, dried off, and pulled on my jockstrap. I looked in the mirror. It was tight, perfect. I headed for the bedroom. Coach was on the bed, watching me. His eyes locked on me like he’d been waiting for this. I felt hot all over. My skin buzzed as I slowly walked to the foot of the bed. The closer I got, the more I started feeling the burn in my hole. Something was happening. My chest felt tight, my skin alive. I was horny. Yeah, but it was more than that. I so wanted this. And I didn’t care what happened next. I just knew I was ready. Coach was studying me. His eyes steady, taking in every reaction as he motioned me to him. "Yeah, boy. Get over here," he ordered, stroking his thick thighs, spread wide open. Cock hard and ready. Slowly, I crawled onto the bed and got on my knees between his thighs. He watched how I breathed. How my body tensed. How I looked at him. I looked down at his cock, sticking straight up, foreskin still covering the tip. I could feel my hole twitching. Then he moved. No warning. Just a shift. “I always had my eye on you. Knew what you were capable of. Been fucking wanting this since before you first came to me, asking,” he growled, grabbing my head and yanked. “You aren’t the first one I got in shape.” Down I went, face to face with Coach’s cock. I could smell the day on him. Fucking sweat from being out in the hot sun all day. I didn’t know what came over me, but I started sniffing it as he worked his hand down my back. He started working my hole again with a slick finger. It was crazy. I was loving it and my moans got louder. “Fucking jockpig,” he laughed, working it deeper. “You like Coach’s smell, don’t ya?” There it was again. I could feel the burn getting stronger, but I didn’t care. It felt good. All I could think about now was Coach’s cock. I could see the precum oozing from his foreskin. “Fuck yeah, Coach,” I moaned, reaching out with my tongue. He stayed in me, making sure I felt his rough finger sliding and digging around. All the time, I lapped at his cock. I could taste it sliding over my tongue and down my throat. It was sharp and clean. Then I felt it. Another finger sliding in. Everything I’d ever imagined about being with a guy was happening. It wasn’t with someone my age, but I didn’t care. It was Coach. He knew exactly what he was doing, and I wanted him to show me. The burn was hitting every nerve as he opened me up, getting me ready. It was all I needed. I opened my mouth wide and went down on him. “Goddamn cocksucker. Get me ready.” Coach moaned, feeling my lips sliding over the foreskin, pushing it back on the shaft. I took it down about half-way. He just sat there, slowly starting to fuck my face. I tried not to gag, but spit was pouring from my mouth. The deeper the strokes, the more I moaned. I wanted it ready for my hole. I sucked harder. “Just relax, nice and slow. You got it,” he murmured, holding my head with both his hands until I was nose deep in sweaty pubes, my chin on his balls. I kept at it, sucking on him. His leaking cock was dripping down my throat as I gripped his thighs. His thrusts were getting harder and faster. “Alright, enough,” he growled, grabbing me, and shoved me back. He leaned in, his mouth almost at my hole. I could feel his hot breath on it. Then, he flicked his tongue at it. “Shit, yeah,” I moaned, never thinking it’d be like this. He was fucking me with his tongue. Coach ate me out for a while then pulled up. My hole was on fire, hungry, and aching. That’s when I finally saw it. It wasn’t showing in any of his pics, but I could see it now. A black scorpion tattooed on the tip of his cock! Its tail wrapped around it. The stinger going under and into the piss slit. How did I miss it?! Seeing my reaction, Coach spread my legs and moved in before I could do anything. “You don’t know how many fucking times I thought about breeding you,” he growled, teasing my hole with his cock. “I knew it the first day you asked about working out that I’d make you into the perfect fucking poz musclejock.” His words were hitting me, reminding me of those nights when he was pushing me harder and harder. Making me want it. I could see the lust in his eyes but then, he got serious and stopped. “But then you fucking got under my skin, boy,” he sighed. “Like I said, you aren’t the first. Just the one I never should’ve let get this close. That’s why I ended it.” I should’ve been freaking out, but my hole was aching. I couldn’t take it anymore. “Fuck me,” I whimpered. The look on his face suddenly changed. “Yeah? You want it, huh?” he smiled, pushing his cock at my hole, again. “Just say it, boy.” “Oh, God!” I moaned, my body giving me away. I lifted my hips and offered myself up. “I wanna be your poz musclejock, Coach.” That’s all it took. He started into me. “Shit!” I cried out, feeling the tip stretching my hole as he punched through. “Fuck, boy,” he grunted, feeling me tightening up. “You’re still fucking tight. I got plenty more to train that hole. But for now, let’s try this.” I wasn’t really paying attention to what he was saying. I was trying, but I still couldn’t relax enough to take him any deeper. That’s when I saw him grab a brown bottle from the side table. I recognized it from some of the raunchier porn I’d gotten into. I watched him unscrew the bottle and take a long snort. “This’ll loosen you up,” Coach moaned, handing me the bottle. I could see the poppers were getting to him. I looked him in the eyes and put the bottle up to my nostril and breathed in. “Fuck,” I growled, feeling it hit me at the same time Coach pushed into me. “Another,” he ordered, “Opening you up, boy. No going back.” This time, it worked. I could feel him sinking in. “God! Give it to me,” I whimpered, his shaft splitting me open. “I DON’T HEAR YOU, BOY!” he yelled, hitting my prostate. I kept moaning, feeling him sliding over it. Pushing deeper. It felt like I was floating. Not really in my body but still aware of what was happening. I didn’t know what it meant. Didn’t care. Everything was a blur. But I knew he was fucking me now. And I didn’t want him to stop. “FUCKING BREED ME!” I yelled, “FUCKING POZ ME, COACH!” Coach pumped into me, pushing himself into my guts. His balls banged against me. His grip got tighter. “Fucking ass feels good, boy,” Coach growled, “Just fucking tight enough.” I just groaned. I couldn’t speak. My cock was twitching. He just kept on, ramming into me. I was loving it, wanting him to fill me up with his poz load. “Been waiting for this since I started seeing results,” Coach said, letting it settle into my head. “That ass getting high and tight. Just begging for my poz loads.” “Shit yeah,” I moaned, realizing I had done it all for him. “I fucking wanted to be your musclejock since day one, Coach. Fucking wanted to make you proud.” I was panting and bucking, pushing back on his cock the whole time. I wanted it all the way in me. Each time he hit my prostate, I’d push back for more. “Fucking cockpig,” he growled, “Gonna have you begging for other poz cocks soon.” I was too much into it to answer. That’s when he sank down all the way and stayed there. “Fuck yeah,” he grunted, “It’s all in.” “Goddamn, it!” I moaned, squirming. Then he started ramming into me. Hard and fast. Sweat was flying off him. His eyes hard, like a hunter who knew he’d set up the perfect shot. Closing the space between us, he wrapped his arms around me. He held me tight. He was close. I clenched down. He started sucking in air short and fast. Then he slowed but went long and hard, the last one pushing me over the edge. “Shit yeah!” I growled, shooting biggest load ever as I felt his cock spasming in me. “Load me up, Coach!” “FUCKING TAKE IT!” he yelled, his swollen cock finally filling my hole with his poz load, and fell on me. He stayed in me for a while, both of us now covered in sweat until he pulled out and sat back. "You feel that in you, don't you, boy?” he grinned, fingering my sloppy hole. “Your first poz load.” “Yeah, Coach,” I growled, grabbing him tight, and pulled him back on me hard. My mouth crashed into his, rough and hungry. “Fucking thanks,” I panted against his lips, my breath raw and grateful. “You’re welcome, boy,” Coach smiled, showing me his red-stained cum slick fingers. “It’s starting. You feel it? It won’t be long.” “Shit,” I moaned, sucking on them. I could taste the metallic sharpness mixed with the saltiness of his load. “Gonna be your fucking poz musclejock, Coach.” “That you are, boy,” he growled and slipped a buttplug in my hole to make sure. “MY fucking poz musclejock. I got so much to show you.” “Can’t wait, Coach,” I muttered, rolling over and burying my face in his furry pecs.

One of the first vids I discovered. The music in the background is something I will never forget. A buddy was watching it and the minute I heard it, I instantly knew what he was watching. I've got this clip saved and backed up in several places.

This is interesting. It’s listed as 4 parts on Nifty but part 4 does say that it’s the 3rd of the chronicles. This story definitely helped with getting me interested and getting me to where I am now. It’s got me curious as to what happened next to Blake and Gus, especially after Con showed up. Even if he doesn’t decide to share. Please let him know that he has many fans out there that have enjoyed it for years.

Frenum/Jacob’s ladder is on my bucket list!

Both PA and reverse PA. 😁 Definitely enjoyed them.