This story contains raunchy, nasty sex involving a football coach, a father and his teenage son. If you are under 18 you should stop right here.
Title: COACHING A DAD AND SON
The CHARACTERS - Greg: 42 year old businessman. Fairly successful. Living with his son. Greg is good looking in a distinguished sort of a way. Looks professorial with his fine features, goatee and spectacles. He is proportionately built but not very muscular.
Asvor: 14 year old son of Greg. Goodlooking, with curly hair. Slightly plump in a cute sort of way and could pass of for an athletic.
Hunter: Asvor's football coach. A brutish sort of a guy. Solidly built, hairy and muscular. With short cropped hair and a thick moustache. He never smiled, and on rare occasion his face would light up with an evil grin. This was when he was inflicting pain or humiliation on someone. He has come to live in the town about a year ago and joined Asvor's school as the football coach.
Carlos: a 16 year old from Asvor's school. A toughie, a muscular hunk with sadistic streaks.
The STORY -
Greg was driving to one of his business clients when his mobile phone rang. It was from Storm Hunter, Asvor's football coach. Greg's heart skipped a beat. He wondered why Hunter had called.
Asvor is Greg's 14 year old son. Lot of thought had gone into naming him. Greg had convinced his wife that it was an exotic Norwegian name. What Greg liked about the name was that it sounded like Ass-Whore or Ass-Hole. He thought it couldn't get more kinky than that.
Greg had grown up sucking off his dad and he was sure he could sooner or later get his son to do the same.
"I need to have a talk with you," said the coach gruffly. "If things are not nipped in the bud now, I will have problem on my hands."
"Is it serious? Should I come right away?"
"No," Hunter said curtly, "let's leave it for Saturday afternoon. After the morning practice I have the afternoon free. I will detain your boy, work on him for a couple of hours and you can come around 2pm. You know where I sit? On the other side of the football field, next to the gym."
"Yes . . ."
"Of course you should know that place well."
"Yes Sir I do"
"I will expect it to come on time."
"Yes Sir I will be there at the time want me to."
There was history between Greg and Hunter which they had chosen to ignore or pretended it never existed. Now with the change in tone and subtle use of words the equations were being drawn once again.
Nearly 25 years ago when they in their teens, Hunter had joined Greg's school for a year. He had been thrown out of a number of schools for his disruptive behavior before joining Greg's, where he had lasted for barely a year. During this time Hunter had not only humiliated Greg by fuking his girlfriend a number of times but had also made Greg his bitch. Until then the only cock Greg had sucked was that of his father. Greg pretended he hated it, but he waited desperately to be summoned by Hunter and `forced' to satisfy him in the kinkiest ways possible. Storm Hunter may have seemed like a beefcake, with no brains, but he was in fact very imaginative. Greg had rarely met anyone who could with such creativity humiliate and emotionally breakdown another human being.
That evening Greg asked Asvor what the problem at school was? Why had his coach called him? There was a bully at school, Carlos, who had been nasty to him, so Asvor had gone and complained to the coach.
"What do you mean nasty?" asked Greg
"I'd rather not talk about it."
On prodding him further, Asvor told him that Carlos and his friend had cornered him after practice one evening and tried to get him to suck them off. Why him? They had apparently picked on him because he played badly -- like a pansy they said - and he had been particularly bad at the last match when the team had lost by a huge margin against the visitors.
Asvor had always been bad at sports. Just a month back, Greg had gone to the school coach and persuaded him to take Asvor under his wings and make a man out of him. Hunter had looked at both of them with disgust and finally agreed.
Greg now lived with his son in his plush suburban home. His wife had gone off with his boss, when the boss had changed jobs and moved to Hawaii. Until he had moved, Greg's boss had regularly fuked his wife. But that's another story.
Asvor had grown up to be a beautiful young man -- proportionate yet delicate. He had a charming yet diffident smile which lent vulnerability to his looks. He had the makings of a perfect bottom. He was every sadists fantasy.
Coming back to the present -- when Greg took Asvor to Hunter he was hoping that the coach would train him in things other than football. He was dying to watch Hunter control Asvor and make a bitch out of him.
However Greg was not sure it was panning out the way he had planned. The meeting this Saturday was apparently to put a bully in his place. Not to `train' Aswor. But Greg need not have worried. Hunter was on the same page as him.
On Saturday Greg reached the school. It seemed pretty deserted, at least the sports section of the school. From the school auditorium he could hear some musical being rehearsed.
Greg walked to the coach's office at the other end of the football field.
Hunter was sitting at his table in his shorts and a wife beater t-shirt. He looked glorious. With his broad frame, short hair, thick stache, his bare arms covered in fur, he could only be described as a HOT Brute. His cold, almost cruel eyes added to his sex appeal. When Greg entered, Hunter barely looked up. He simply grunted, raised his arm and scratched his underarm and went back to working on his computer. His hairy pitts had Greg drooling. Greg stood in front of him for nearly 10 minutes before he was asked to sit down. Hunter continued beating away at the keyboard.
"Get me a bottle of beer from the refrigerator."
Greg darted to the fridge across the room. There were a few more bottles in it but Hunter didn't bother to offer him any. Greg took a peek at the monitor to see what Hunter was working at with such concentration. He was a bit hurt to find that he was only playing some computer game.
Hunter dropped a pencil to the floor. "Pick it up" he said gruffly.
Greg went down on all fours under the table. The pencil had rolled under Hunters chair and lay behind his massive legs. The muscular legs were spread, and from his short shorts Greg could see the head of his penis. As Greg was staring at his penis Hunters hand came under the table and adjusted his crotch to offer Greg a better view of his cock.
"The pencil's under your chair." Greg said, his voice quivering.
"I asked you to pick it up asshole, and not where it has fallen."
Greg was taken aback but he was getting used the treatment. Hunter spread his legs wider to allow Greg reach the pencil. Greg moved forward. His mouth nearly touched Hunters cock while his hand groped under the chair for the pencil. Just then Hunter raised his ass a bit and let out a fart. Not a loud one but one of those silent smelly farts. Greg nearly passed out. It was heaven. After all these years it still smelt the same.
Having retrieved the pencil, Greg came out from under the table. He sat there quietly.
"You thirsty?" asked Hunter, much to Greg's surprise. He nodded.
There was a gentle knock on the side door which led to an adjoining room.
"Have you finished?" yelled hunter.
"Yes SIR," came the reply from behind the door. Greg recognized the voice. It was Asvor.
"You thirst aren't you?" growled Hunter at Greg. "Get under the table. The washroom is down the corridor and am in mood to go all the way there. Two birds with one stone." Hunter guffawed at his own joke.
Greg wanted to object, say that he was here as a parent of a student and had no intention of being treated in this shocking manner. But he just couldn't. He got under the table. The cock was already out. It was semi-hard. Greg took the cock in his mouth and the piss started flowing into his mouth.
"Come in," Hunter hollered to Asvor.
Asvor entered and stood framed in the doorway. Wearing only his white underwear, torn in a couple of places and wet like the rest of his body with sweat, he looked like some sort of an exquisite picture from an S & M film.
Greg started to panic. He knew that Asvor was standing not very far from him, though Asvor could not see him under the table. Greg started choking as he struggled to gulp down Hunters piss. The stream of piss stopped and he felt a kick in his balls.
"Get out."
As soon as Greg let go off the cock there was a few fresh squirts of piss all over his face and shirt.
He emerged from under the table, wiping the piss trickling down his face. He shot a glance at Asvor, who was standing there too tired to react. Hunter stood up and made an exaggerated action of zipping up his shorts and adjusting his cock, just in case Asvor hadn't caught on to what was happening under the table.
"Go in and wait for me and your Dad."
Asvor turned to go in.
"We will be there as soon as your Dad has finished cleaning up." Greg saw the beautiful smooth back of his son had a few red lashes inflicted by a cane or a paddle.
"Making a man out of him," grunted Hunter.
"You are the coach, Sir. You know best." Said Greg, adding a servile smile for good effect.
"I know asshole, I don't need your approval." Greg smiled again.
"Once inside, you will do exactly as I tell you, do you understand?"
"Yes Sir."
Just as Hunter was about to open the door, he turned around and said, "On your knees." Greg fell to his knees.
"Smell," ordered Hunter, pulling down his shorts and pushed out his hairy muscular butt.
And as Greg shoved his face into the crack, Hunter let out another smelly fart. Greg took it all in. His tongue got coated with fine particles of Hunter's shit.
"Thank you Sir," said Greg with genuine gratitude, as he got up and followed Hunter to the next room.
To be continued . . .
This is an original piece of fiction. Please feel free to email me at Sam nifty_addict@yahoo.com I would love to receive your comments and feed back. And your fantasies if you would like to share them with me.