After the almost accident in the weight room, Coach decided that was more than enough exercise for the day. They were now both in the locker room again, their weight training done, and it seemed neither really wanted to talk about what had just conspired a few minutes ago.
Clay's head was still swimming a bit, partly from exhaustion, partly from the whiff he caught moments before, but he managed to sit himself down on one of the cold concrete benches in the locker room. To his immediate left was the door to Coach's office, on his right and far side of the room, was the entrance to the showers, a long row of them going down each wall with 4 foot concrete dividers built between each. And honestly a shower did sound pretty great right now. He was hot, stinking of sweat, and still even smelled some of stale beer from earlier that day, but he wanted to let his muscles rest and try to process what exactly happened in the weight room just a bit longer before he took one.
So while he took his shirt off and leaned against the cool metal lockers behind him, his coach was busy behind his office door only a few short feet away.
"Well done Rust," he said to himself, "You managed to almost hurt the kid and ended up just rubbing your dick across his face all within a matter of seconds." He cursed at himself, he had let some thought or fantasy of the kid distract him, and now he was probably going to get fired if the kid does go talking about it. He'd talk to Clay after a while longer and see exactly how hard the kid is taking it.
He remembered the feel of his junk pressed firmly across the kid's face and shivered a bit, he hated to admit it but he'd loved it there. It felt like it SHOULD be there. But he knew that was simply his predatory side talking. He'd seen the pure shock on the kid's face after he'd freed him from the dumbell and knew he was definitely dosed with a lot more than he had expected to get.
"And smelled too," he added at the end, almost a whisper. He was a clean man, but he knew there was no masking the scent when a man got to building up a sweat from work. And he knew the kid had probably got a mouthful of it. The mental image of Clay sniffing at his crotch made Coach stir down below, but he quickly stopped that. The "Little guy," had made enough trouble for the coach already as it was, so he decided he'd just have to wait to find out if the kid would cost him his job or not.
As there wasn't much else to be done, coach dropped his gym shorts on the floor of his office, kicked out of them, and wrapped a clean towel around his toned waist, covering his jock with it as he did. He put on the shower shoes he kept in the corner and opened the office door. The kid was resting shirtless with his back against the lockers when he emerged, he opened his eyes when he heard the door open and glanced at the Coach's direction.
Clay had never seen Coach Dunc shirtless before, so the sight of the 6 foot 3 sculpted giant standing in the doorway wearing nothing more than a towel around his waist, as far as Clay could tell, managed to take a little bit of his breath away. Sure he'd seen other shirtless guys, even when changing in gym class, but to see a shirtless, powerful man standing only a few feet away moments after what happened in the weight room? Clay felt himself stir a little beneath his own clothes. It alarmed him a bit at first, but then he managed to get himself under control... still, he looked on.
Coach had what Clay assumed to be average body hair, his forearms and legs both had a healthy coating, but his chest was a sight to behold. It covered both pecs nicely, a dark curly fur that showed just enough skin beneath, it trailed down to a point some nearing his belly button, and burst back up into a fuzzy and inviting happy trail below the navel itself. Stuff like that never did anything for Clay before, but once more he was feeling that perhaps his shorts were a bit too tight.
Clay felt he had to speak about ANYTHING to break the silence. "Go ahead of me Coach, I'm going to let myself rest a bit more before I shower."
Coach nodded towards Clay once, just a simple acknowledgement, and made his way to the showers. He got inside the doorway and turned left, out of sight of the kid, and leaving most of the locker room out of view. He knew from his years at this school that the far left showers stayed hotter longer due to having a separate water heater, so he made his way to the first on that row and turned the nozzle.
The jets of water sprang forth from the faucet above and Coach let it run until he began to notice steam rising a minute later, testing that the water was indeed ready with his left hand first, he brought it back to the towel at his waist and began to disrobe. The towel he hung on one of the hooks mounted on the left wall, just as he was about to remove his jockstrap he made a glance at the cheap soap dispenser set on the wall next to his running shower and frowned. The soap the school supplied was awful stuff, prison grade really. The frown was due to him realizing he had forgotten his own bottle of body was he kept in his office, no doubt distracted from the circumstances that occurred earlier.
With a sigh he headed back to his office to retrieve it, grabbing his towel and putting it back around his waist before turning for the door. He emerged from the shower doorway and was walking towards his office when he stopped halfway through the locker room, just steps away from his open office door. A look of pure shock crossed his face at what he was watching.
Clay had watched his coach go through the archway and into the showers, out of sight. He exhaled as he realized he had stopped breathing entirely once he laid eyes on his coach when he first emerged from his office in only a towel. Once he saw him dissappear, his mind immediately went back to that smell he'd gotten only a brief whiff of. That intoxicatingly strong scent of his Coach he'd accidentally received earlier. He couldn't get it out of his head, so he just sighed and let his mind wonder on it some more, bringing his head back to rest against the lockers behind him once more.
He was about to close his eyes again, but something caught his attention in the corner of them and he look longingly at the discarded gym shorts the coach had left in the floor of his office. He heard Coach Dunc turn on one of the showers behind him and after a quick glance that direction followed by a gulp, turned back to eye the shorts once more. His mind was swimming and he was pining for that scent again like it was the very oxygen he breathed. He reasoned with himself once more and turned his head back towards the showers, he figured he had at least 8 minutes before Coach was out, and with one final glance his direction, he turned back to the shorts, stood himself up, (on very tired limbs,) and carefully made his way into the office.
Clay's mind was shouting all kinds of reasoning as to why he shouldn't do this, but he was not listening to anything his brain was saying at the moment. He crossed into the office and walked a few more steps until the Coach's shorts were at his feet. He got down on his knees and delicately picked up the shorts like they were a live grenade and stopped.
His brain tried to plead with him to just put them down and leave like nothing happened, that this was crossing some line he didn't want to cross, but his brain wasn't in charge any more. And even a few inches away, his nose could smell a faint hint of what it wanted more of, so he caved to his cravings, brought the shorts up to his nose and mouth, and took the largest breath in he thought he'd ever take... and it was bliss.
The rich aroma flooded his senses immediately, and a powerful wave of primal desire rushed through his veins like electricity, sparking up nerves as it made its course. It was musty and smelled of Coach's sweaty loins, the scent that awoke some buried part of who he was, and he couldn't get enough. He felt his own member begin to swell rapidly and it reached full staff in seconds. That smell entranced every thought he had as he simply kept taking deep breaths of that sweet sweet poison, unable to stop himself if he wanted to. Certainly more than enough to keep him from noticing his coach was not in the showers as he expected, but was now only a few feet behind him with a shocked look of pure surprise upon his face.
When Coach had returned from the showers to retrieve his body wash, he happened across the kid, kneeling in his office, with a raging hard on, inhaling audibly with his discarded shorts pressed firmly against his nose. And it stopped him dead in his tracks. He simply watched the kid take more and more of his scent into his body as he stood there like someone who'd just witnessed a bomb detonate and hadn't quite processed what had happened yet. Except that he WAS processing it.
"Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck!" He repeated to himself internally. The kid was practically begging to be taken by him without even realizing he was being watched. Only moments ago his thoughts were focused on how he would get through this day without making it weird for the kid more than it already had been, but now? That sinister dark side of his was grinning wickedly at the sight of the boy. His impulses were returning, his shaft hardening once more beneath the towel and jock covering it, and a tiny part of himself was begging to just turn around and return to his shower, body wash be damned, and let the kid get his fill from his shorts, but that part of him was overruled by the dark side that ruled his past in scenarios like this. So the coach stepped into the doorway of his office clad in his towel, and, quietly as possible, began pulling the door shut behind him.
Clay's heart stopped dead in it's tracks along with his deep breathing when he heard the door click shut behind him, snapping him back to reality and the situation he'd gotten himself into. His eyes wide, he turned in pure terror to look behind him, what he saw was Coach Duncan towering above him, all 6 foot 3 of muscled, hairy beef covered only partially by a grey towel with both his arms crossed over his massive chest. That trademark smirk had returned, seemingly sinister, and his eyes glared down at his own.
Clay's death grip on the shorts released immediately and they fell to the floor in mostly silence. His mouth was hung open and his eyes resembled that of a deer in headlights as they locked onto those glaring down at him. His brain, still on fire from the aromatherapy he'd just self administered, screamed with terror. He was so fucked. Images of his coach beating the shit out of him in the small office flashed through his mind and only worsened his fears. He thought he could even feel tears beginning to form in the corner of his eyes as he just sat there, busted in the act, frightened for his life. He was speechless, but Coach spoke first after what seemed like hours of being in this position.
"Well, well, what a surprise I've found here." He said slowly in his deep voice, never breaking his death stare, continuing with "Seems some little boy had a taste of some of Coach's crotch sweat and decided he wanted more." His smirk was practically the grin of the devil by this point, white teeth gleaming menacingly.
"I-I-I'M S-SORRY COACH," He practically begged, "LOOK, I DON'T KNOW WHAT CAME OVER ME BUT I SWEAR JUST LET ME LEAVE AND IT'LL BE FORGOTTEN AND NEVER HAPPEN AGAI-" He was cut off mid sentence by Coach raising one finger up in a "Silence, " gesture. The kid was practically bawling and a wreck at this point. Coach had no doubt he could have him begging for his life in seconds, and he considered toying with him a bit more, after all, he was truly enjoying the look of terror in his eyes, but he understood that this was probably the first time the kid had ever tried anything like this, so instead he dropped his finger and spoke once more.
"Now why would I want to forget such an adorable sight?" He paused for a moment to let the kids head process what he just said before continuing after he could see it had, "To be honest, I was a bit worried about what happened earlier, but turns out you're just a jock-sniffing faggot huh? So seems I worried for nothing."
Coach's package shifted a bit more when he noticed how the kid winced when he called him that name, but more so from the effect he saw from the kids dick twitch against his own shorts in response. Seems the kid still thought he was in trouble from the way he said it judging by his response.
"I don't know what came over me Coach Dunc! Please! Just don't hurt me!" He WAS begging now, Even dropped his head in shame as a tear rolled down his cheek when his voice cracked as the last part of that statement left his lips... And it was really getting Coach fired up.
"Hurt you? Now why would I do that?" He asked, still in that teasing dark tone he'd used since the beginning of this exchange. He had the kid in the palm of his hand, he knew that, but what the kid didn't know is he had no intention of making him stop.
"So, you're telling me that I find some cute little bitch practically inhaling my dirty shorts and you think I should hurt him? Oh, no," he said, again flashing that wild smile, "I don't think I will hurt him, that is, unless he tries to stop."
Clay's head Jerked back up immediately in awe at what he just heard. Had he heard correctly? Coach not only didn't want him to stop, but... he wanted him to keep going? He paused for a moment hoping for some clarification but after a second or two he realized he heard him perfectly fine. Coach Duncan, the epitome of what a man was to Clay, is not only ok with him sniffing his shorts, but wants him to continue? Clay couldn't believe it. But even still, he glanced back down at the gym shorts belonging to the towering man above him, then back at the man once more before resting his gaze on the shorts again.
Slowly, he reached for the shorts again. Once he had them balled up between both his hands, he again looked back up towards his coach, still bearing that same smirk down at him on his knees. Without breaking eye contact, as he wasn't entirely sure this wasn't some trick still, he brought both hands up firmly against his nose once more, and again took a deep breath of the salty, sweaty scent his Coach had graced him with. His senses were again flooded with the intoxicating smell and his eyes closed automatically as he continued his work, now not in secret, but in front of the very source. Coach's dick twitched at the sight.
"Yeeaahhh, that's right," Coach coaxed on, "Be a good boy and sniff on Daddy's shorts."
Clay needed little coaxing but happily obeyed the man. He even blushed a bit at how dirty that statement sounded as he took yet another deep breath. Coach watched him continue his work for another couple of breaths before he finally spoke again.
"Stop."
It was definitive and sounded a lot more like a command than a request to Clay, but he did, looking puzzled back up at the man, worried he may have gotten himself in trouble again for a brief moment.
"Coach?" He started.
"Nope, no Coach here, that's for in class and the outside world, in here, when I have you like this from now on, it's Sir, boy," he finished by placing his large hand firmly on top of the kids head as he called him boy, lightly gripping the hair on top.
That entire sentence made some part of Clay shudder, but what did it mostly was "From now on..." that meant this wasn't going to be a one time thing then? Before he could think on it much longer, Coach began removing his towel with his other hand while holding his head firm with the first. Clay expected he was about to see the mans junk and wasn't sure he was ready to either... sniffing the shorts was one thing, but to actually see another man's manhood? That he wasn't sure about. He considered saying so before the towel fell away completely, revealing a heavenly scent, 5 times more potent than what the shorts offered, emanating from the snug, bulging, white cotton jockstrap that held his coach's package so neatly. It was accompanied by waves of heat too, and that only seemed to add to Clay's drunken state.
He could only stare at what was laid before him, his mouth watered as wave after wave of the warm musk rolled across his face mere inches away from the source. If the shorts were heaven, the jock was full on Nirvana. Those thoughts were only broken by Coach speaking once more.
"Somebody seems to be enjoying themselves," he said teasingly. Clay nodded in response. But that wasn't enough for Coach
"I'm waiting for a real answer, boy." He said a bit more sternly.
"Yes Coach- er... yes Sir..." he trailed off.
"Good boy," Coach replied, patting the boys head just a bit as he spoke. He smirked again briefly before he asked, "So why don't you tell me what exactly it is you want boy?"
Clay looked up briefly at the stud before him, at first he didn't realize, he knew Coach had to know what he wanted to do... then it occurred to Clay that Coach definitely knew what he wanted, but wanted him to admit it out loud himself. Clay yielded fully shortly after this realization, the lengthy answer he gave surprised himself and the coach.
"Please Sir, since the weight room, I couldn't get that maddening smell out of my head... I... the shorts were enough to sate me for a while, but now that I see, no, now that I can SMELL the source, let me have more, PLEASE, Sir..."
His eyes were begging as much as his words were as he looked up consumed by lust and any pride cast aside. Coach knew he had the boy now, there was no denying it, he was his to toy with now, and he wasn't going to deny himself that right.
"Good answer bitch," he said shortly, eliciting a twitchy response once again from the boy's straining member. He then began to slowly pull the kid's head forward inch by inch until his nose was almost touching the bulging outline of his dick beneath the fabric. Clay's senses were on fire from being this close. He wanted to slam his face forward and really inhale what Coach Duncan was so graciously supplying. But Coach just held his head firm.
He looked up again at his coach, eyes watering from the smell, his cheeks a heavy rose color from blushing, the bandage on his jawbone a sharp contrast now to the color of the skin beneath. The boy was in heaven, and it positively delighted the coach to see it. But he held his head firm even now. He was waiting for something...
Clay got the drift, and asked without hesitation, "Sir? May i touch it?"
Coach replied only by removing his hand from the boy's head, and again firmly crossing both arms across his hairy chest. A short nod as if to say "Go ahead," was all the permission the kid needed.
Clay, still on his knees before the giant, as if released from some invisible binding, practically buried his face in the fabric between Coach's growing package and his muscular thigh, feeling one hefty testicle pressed through the fabric against the curve of his cheeck, He planted both hands on the back of each of Coach's legs beneath the toned ass, crushing himself as close as he could to the source of his entrapment, And he breathed in once and shuddered out an audible sigh of pure delight as he finally, once more, received a heavy dose of the smell straight from the bulging source. And his own forgotten, twitching cock, finally receiving what he desired, released his seed messily and without much warning through his underwear and gym shorts. And it was the most powerful orgasm the kid had experienced in his entire life.
Coach Duncan just watched on and smiled...
"Good boy."