Coach Sanders

[curiouslooker]

That’s a great story. Would’ve loved more details on their bodies (hairiness, muscled, etc), but I came so hard

[ImXXX666]

Coach pozzing is so hot

[partying.hard]

This story is a major fantasy of mine. I was coming out while I was in junior high in high school. Had a major crush on one of my PE teachers stole two jockstraps from him. I followed him for the next 10 or 15 years and would’ve loved to have Played around with him. 

[Sfmike64]

4 hours ago, partying.hard said:

This story is a major fantasy of mine. I was coming out while I was in junior high in high school. Had a major crush on one of my PE teachers stole two jockstraps from him. I followed him for the next 10 or 15 years and would’ve loved to have Played around with him. 

I didn't realize it until MUCH later but the reason I think I'm particularly attracted to short hairy men is a gym teacher in HS in the 1970s. He was a hairy Italian guy in his mid 20s from NYC (probably about 5'5") muscled and sexy.

I got to see him naked in the showers a fair amount, because I participated in an informal after school running thing he organized, which  provided a lot of spank bank material when I was 14-15. He'd probably be in his early 70s now.  He looked GOOD in 1970s those coach shorts (which are making a comeback much to my delight) and a tank top. DAMN. 

[badjujuboy]

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.  

[optimas]

Amazing

[KinkyTallBottom]

Fuck yesssss so hot!

 

[RobertBottomSlut]

Hot writing. Well worth the commitment. 

[Fantasist]

Wow unreal

[SpermBank4you]

I want it

[AlwaysOpen]

Hurry up Ben and leave quick so you can get back over there for surprise Coach has for you

[badjujuboy]

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.