This is based on a true story, the names and details have been changed to protect the satisfied.Comments are encouraged.
In high school, I developed early, so I was one of the stars of our football team. In the South, football is like religion, so I could have had almost any girl in the school. I dated plenty, and even fucked a few for show, but I wasn't happy. The problem was I didn't want them: I wanted my teammates. So I would be the last one in from practice so I could stay late and sniff their jocks and dream about taking their hot throbbing teen cocks in my mouth and sucking them to a creamy finish. This was my private time. But then one day, I didn't notice coach Ahorn, our young assistant coach, enter the locker room. Coach A was a god: 25 and in amazing shape: tall dark and handsome, with a cock that would have made a horse jealous. Not that I was bad myself (6 foot 2, 200 lbs of muscle, tight hairy ass, 8 inch coke-can dick with big fat low-hangers). Oh, and I was arrogant as fuck back then as a result. It's important to the story.
"Mikey, what are you doing?" Coach Ahorn ask. "Fucking shit" I thought to myself. "Caught redhanded."
I blushed, embarrassed to be caught beating off sniffing Jack Lawson's jock (Jack was the star running back, who later turned out to be gay, but that's getting ahead of myself). "Ah, nothing coach, just, um, er, ah,...cleaning up," I mumbled and tried in vain to cover my stiff rod.
"Mikey, I always knew you were gay. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. See, I'm gay too. I bet you like to beat off thinking about your teammates, don't you?"
"I do," I replied while blushing. I saw his cock grow through his trousers. I smiled. I realized he was mine, he just didn't know it yet.
"Why don't you come here," he said to me. "No one else is here, we can have some fun."
"Yes we can," I replied. "Why don't you start by getting over here on your fucking knees?"
"Excuse me? I don't think you realize your place," he said, startled.
"No fucker, you don't know your place. See, I always knew you were queer. I've seen you lusting after all of us. I'm a fucking teenage god, so you should be begging me to suck my dick and lick out my asshole." (see, I told you I was arrogant then.) To this day, I'm not sure why I knew, but I knew for sure: Coach A was a bottom slut who needed a man to tell him what to do. And I was more than happy to oblige. Knowing he was beat, Coach A stripped down and came over to me. "Good slut," I replied as I patted his head. I took my cock in my hand and slapped his face with it.
"Please let me suck your cock" he begged, lost in lust. "I need your young stud cock so bad, please give it to me" I was only too happy to oblige. I shoved all 8 inches down his throat, mercilessly fucking his face, my balls slapping his chin. "Shit boy, you know your way around a cock" I moaned as his tongue slithered all over my cock, sucking gently on the head and massaging the slit with his tongue as his hands plied my heavy balls.
After a few minutes I could feel my balls start to tighten, so I pulled out. "Turn around boy so I can fuck you," I barked, and Coach A complied willingly, spreading his cheeks. I spit on my cock and his asshole, getting him wet as he whimpered, knowing what was to come. I shoved in about 4 inches as he winced and stopped to let him adjust before pushing onward. I knew I was in good shape when I struck the prostate after getting about 6 inches in, his moan echoing down his spine. I shoved the rest in, and then began the hard, fast strokes, almost pulling out at the end of each one.
"Ah fuck yeah, give me that teen cock, stud" he moaned. "Fill me up with your hot cock like the slut I am." I was only too happy to fulfill his request, pounding his asshole for all it was worth. I reached around and squeezed his nipples as he tugged his cock furiously. He moaned with pleasure as I figured out how to hit the prostate on each stroke in and out (what can I say, I'm a natural.) Pretty soon I reached the point of no return. I turned him around and blew my load all over his face. He greedily ate it up, and only then did I noticed that he'd blown his own load all over the bench underneath us.
Suddenly, I heard someone clapping. "Bravo, Mike, bravo. Better even than I'd imagined. And thank you for your assistance Coach Ahorn." I froze, recognizing the voice: our head coach, Mr. Strather. I think young Mike here is ready to join our little club. Oh shit, what had I gotten myself into it?
I'll continue the story if there's enough interest. Write me with comments/suggestions. I'm an attention whore, and I love to hear how this story "helped you out" so to speak: curiousbaydude02@yahoo.com.