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Seduced, Chemmed, and Pozzed by My Wrestling Coach


rawrawraw76

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  • 2 weeks later...

Fuck, if I had hot coaches like this, I might have enjoyed PE more than I did. What an awesome story! I can hardly wait to see what happens to Lance after he gets pozzed and hooked on meth. Maybe the coaches will start pimping him out along with Tom from last year.

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  • 5 weeks later...

PART 4

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Coach Pitt slowly began pulling his cock out of my sloppy hole, and I whimpered. He smiled and kissed me again. “Don’t worry, sweet boy,” he said. “Your hole won’t be empty for long.”

In fact, it wasn’t empty for more than five seconds. Coach Strickland pushed his fat dick into me right away, and I could feel the warmth and wetness of Coach Pitt’s seed getting worked even deeper inside my slammed-up hole.

“Pitt and I met at a wrestling conference a few years back,” Strickland explained, sweat dripping down his forehead as he thrust his dick deep. “We’d both responded to a Craigslist ad posted by some college slut. This kid wanted neg tops to breed him, so I showed up to give the little fucker a surprise. Anyway, when Pitt shot his load inside this kid’s fuckhole, I caught Pitt’s eye and he winked at me. Flashed that devil-smile of his. That’s when I knew he was doing the exact same thing I was doing—stealth-pozzing the negboy. A few months later, he got me a job here at the high school, and we’ve been slowly converting our favorite wrestlers into poz chemsluts ever since.”

His thrusts were faster now. His breath grew ragged. His eyes were solid black, staring me down as he grinned like a fucking demon. “And now,” he said, “You know what’s gonna happen?”

“You’re gonna breed me. Please breed me, Coach.”

“Fuck yeah, Lance. I’m gonna give you a big dose of my poz seed. You. Fucking. Slammed. Up. PIG.” His whole body shook as he pushed even deeper than before, and his stomach muscles flexed as his dick sprayed volleys of toxic jizz into my hungry fuckhole.

By then, I could see that the playroom was getting crowded, and I recognized everyone: guys who’d graduated in the last year or two or three, most of them wrestling at the local university now. They were watching Strickland breed me, stroking their dicks, helping each other get slammed up, and staring me down with that same demonic intensity. Tom Goldsmith—last year’s captain, the guy from the homemade video I'd seen in Pitt's office—was the first to get his poz cock up in me, and by that point I was spreading my jockbutt and begging for his dirty cum.

I took a load from every poz jockpig in the room. Then Coach Pitt unstrapped me from the harness, helped me down, and turned to address the roomful of guys. “I’m gonna take a few minutes alone with this boy,” he said. “You’re all welcome to stick around and pig out. Help yourself to more rigs over there on the desk if you want.”

He walked me upstairs, leading me to his bedroom. He closed the door. Then he drew me close to him, pressed his chest against mine, and said: “I’m so proud of you, Lance.” He kissed me, a wet, hungry kiss, while his fingers slowly massaged my cummy hole. “I just wanted a few minutes alone with you. And you know what, pigboy?”

“What?”

“I think it might be time for another slam.”

I nodded eagerly, and he smiled. “Good boy,” he said. He gestured for me to climb onto the bed. He positioned me on my back, spreading my legs. Then, keeping his eyes locked on mine, he pushed his cock into my sloppy cumhole. With his dick buried inside me, he proceeded with the slams. I watched in fascination as he wrapped a rubber strap around his arm, as the needle slid into his vein, as blood filled the syringe, and as he plunged the Tina into his bloodstream. He groaned, and his cock grew even harder in my fuckhole. Then his eyes took on an evil glint as he turned his attention to me.

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“Want some more Tina flowing through you, boy?”

“Fuck yeah. Slam me up. Please.”

“You got it, pig.” The needle was in my vein within seconds. Then he pushed down on the syringe and delivered the chemical payload I was craving.

I coughed, but a little less this time. I felt the drug race to my brain, my heart, my dick. Then my hole began involuntarily milking the raw cock lodged deep within me. Coach laughed. “There you go, slampig,” he said. I kept milking him as he closed his eyes and began thrusting deep. Then he leaned in for another kiss. “I want you to be my boy,” he said. “You’re somethin’ else, Lance. You’re just a natural fuckin’ pig. And my cock belongs in this sweet boyhole.”

He reached down to feel my own throbbing cock, which had remained hard all night. “And look at this, you hot little fucker,” he said. “This fat dick of yours? It’ll be perfect bait to get hot neg jockboys—boys just like you—into our sling.” He kissed me again. “You’re fucking perfect. So whaddaya say? Be my fuckin’ boy?”

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I flashed a giant smile as he barebacked my hole. “I feel so lucky,” I said. “I’ve jacked off so many times thinking about your cock—what it might look like, how it might feel in my hand. And now your giant raw dick is buried inside me. It’s unbelievable. And fuck yeah, I want to be yours.”

“Mine?”

“All yours.”

With that, I felt his dick spasm inside me. Another intense kiss. Then he just looked at me, his cock still twitching as it continued to impregnate my wrecked boyhole. “Fuck, Lance,” he said. “I love shooting my poz cum in you.”

Later, when we made our way back to the playroom, I did another slam and took another round of loads. That was incredibly hot, but it wasn’t my favorite part. My favorite part was this: being alone with Coach Pitt in his bedroom, feeling his powerful arms wrapped around me, my head nuzzling the hair on his muscular chest, while his dick slowly worked that second load of his poz cum into my knocked-up hole. And then hearing him whisper in my ear: “Mine.”

THE END

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