Football Uniform

New Football Uniform by Clark Wayne

"The new uniform pants fit like a glove." He said with a cocky tone. He ran his left hand all around the tight shiny fabric that covered his quad, the other hand cradling a football. He just had to have the whole look to show off.

"Fit like a glove" was an understatement. The way they hugged his legs...fuck. I'm not sure if I wanted to lick him or fuck him.

I had made some lame excuse to get the kid down to my office under the guise of him trying on the new football uniforms I ordered. As his coach, when I made a request, it was always followed.

He was one of my best players. Arrogant and cocky as shit but then he had a right to be. He knew he was good. After all, he is on a football scholarship. Yeah, he knows he's hot. He knows when other people think he's hot. He knows that I think he's hot. I've never told him or anything but he flirts with me, nothing obvious but he and I know. He taunts me with winks, casual touches on the shoulder, compliments on my workouts and randomly coming into my office to supposedly ask a question, shirtless. I don't care because he doesn't care. I know his type. He loves it if another dude thinks he's sexy. He craves that shit. He feeds off it. He knows if another guy thinks he's fuckable than that's even more flattering. He flirts with gay dudes because he likes the attention. I wouldn't put it past him if he messes around with guys just for the power trip, the conquest of other athletic masculine guys. You can't get much higher on the "hotness scale" than when a dude wants to swing off your cock. Or better yet, when a dude wants to lay some pipe in your back yard.

I knew he would look amazing in the uniform. That's why I ordered it a size smaller then he needs.

"Yeah, it does fit like a glove. Turn around." I said twirling my finger in the air.

The kid turned around slowly.

"Stop." I commanded when his ass came into view. He stopped. It was glorious. High and tight, dimpled on each side. Bubbled out like a small shelf from his arched lower back. He wasn't wearing a jock nor underwear. No lines, just smooth, silky smooth muscle-ass encased in a tight sheath of white spandex. He flexes his glutes.

He looked back over his shoulder at me.

"Look ok? Not too tight?" he asks with a cute cocky wink and a knowing smile. He flexed his ass, again, taunting.

Fuck, I was starting to bone up. I rolled my eyes at him to make him think I didn't care.

"Too tight? Yeah, but then I don't think a guy like you minds. They look great, Josh. It's like they were made especially just for you," I said very grandiose, sarcastically but also, it was the truth.

He grinned a big toothy white smile. Fuck him. Cocky shit. He turned back around to face me. I could see his smooth bulge had become a little bigger. He put the football down and noticed himself in the mirror on the wall to the side of my desk. He posed with his side to the mirror, starred into it, running his hands over his abs and down the front of the pants, then the front, then the other side and finally pointed that ass to the mirror. He looked over his shoulder to see himself as he flexed that ass. He reached back and ran his hands over his glutes, squeezing and stroking, putting on a show for me. He turned around again and did the same poses. This time he not only flexed his ass but is muscular calves too. He ran his hands down the front of his quads, feeling the slick material mold to his muscular thighs. He looked at me through the mirror as he flexed and felt himself up. Not in a lustful way but in a cocky "I know you think I'm hot" sort of way.

He turned sideways again to see his amazing ass stick out away from his body.

"Damn, I have a big ass." He said as he slapped his ass with both hands. The beautiful bastard wasn't wearing a jock. The ass jiggled and then he tightened it up, showing the dimples in each cheek, the spandex moving with them.

I chuckled. "Heavy squats tend to cause that, genius."

"Yeah, I know but these pants make my ass look even bigger? You think these pants make my ass look big?" He asked with obvious sarcasm to his voice. It wasn't a real question, more of a statement, still all the while with a big grin. What a fucker.

I was fully boned sitting behind my desk. I reached down with one hand under the desk and discreetly rubbed my hard cock but he knew what I was doing.

"Well, they definitely accentuate it. It's not like it's a bad thing. Having a nice ass is a benefit not a curse." I laughed. "You've got a nice ass, be thankful. It's the mark of a true athlete."

Everything I was saying to him was just pumping his ego even more.

He talked to me through the mirror. His cock growing in the skin-tight material.

He smiled. "Wait, Coach, you think I have a nice ass?" He winked playfully.

"I'm not going to pretend I don't," I shrugged. "It's not like a dude doesn't notice a nice ass on another guy. They just don't admit it out loud. Girls can do that shit with each other but guys can't? It's all macho bullshit. I always say call it like you see it. Life is too short."

He pulled his jersey over his head and threw it aside, leaving him in a skin-tight white Under Armour t-shirt. His biceps stretching the short sleeves making them bunch up under his arm pits. His pecs straining to break free. Each individual abdominal muscle visible, the spandex molded to each one.

He turned again, admiring his body, the uniform pants, the t-shirt. He reached down and palmed his cock through the pants, moving it to make it point up, more comfortable.

"You know, you're right. Guys shouldn't be afraid to admit stuff like that." He flexed his pecs. He stared at me into the mirror. He shrugged his broad shoulders. "I'm just going to come out and say it. Coach, I think you have a nice ass too. I always have. There, I said it."

My mouth went dry.

"Well, thank you, Josh. I appreciate that coming from a guy like you."

"A guy like me?" He asked.

Do I go there? The kid is practically fucking me in the mirror.

"Yeah, you're the best of the best out there on the field. You're young, confident, athletic, handsome, you work hard on your body and it shows. Most guys would kill to have a body like yours, not to mention an ass like yours. It is pretty amazing," I said before I bit my bottom lip while holding eye contact.

"I hope when I'm your age I still look as hot as you do. I mean, you have a sick body, coach! I've always wanted to tell you something. You're such an inspiration to me, the way you take care of your body, the way you carry yourself, your alpha attitude. It's hot, dude." He shrugged as if it was a throw away statement

He lifted the front of the t-shirt revealing his baby-smooth, cut washboard abs. He ran his hand up and down, caressing each one.

He continued. "And I'm glad you think my ass is amazing. That means so much to me, you have no idea. I want you to look at my body and be proud of me. I want you to know that all this," He waved his hand over his body, "is because of you."

That's my boy. He wanted to please me. He wanted my approval. He wanted to feel safe and secure even though he could hold his own. He wanted it and I sure as hell was the man he needed.

He turns and steps over to my office door and locks it, turns out the lights. The windows throwing enough light in so it wasn't even dark inside. I know what he was doing. He wanted the office to look vacant. He turned and walked back to the front of my desk, straight face, staring into my eyes the whole way. I had leaned back in my chair, I have my arms folded over my chest with one hand holding my chin, my thumb stroking the dimple on my chin. I still bite my bottom lip. I followed his eyes until he stopped. The little shit is flexing his body. His quads are bulged, his abs are taught and he's slightly bouncing his pecs. Damn, this kid knows what he's got and he knows how to use it.

"I'm already proud of you, Josh. How could I not be? You've turned into the man I always knew you could be since the first time I saw you playing on that field back when you were in high school. I recruited you for a reason and not just for your football skills either. You're my greatest accomplishment, Josh. I've molded you into the best version of yourself. I've molded you into the best version of yourself that I want you to be." I paused and lifted an eyebrow, kept a stern face, "You owe me a debt of gratitude, Josh."

This kid was going to get me in trouble. He was of age but a coach fucking around with a player could spell trouble. Earlier, I thought I was just going to ogle him, store the image in my brain then I would go home, lock myself in the bathroom and blow a load before dinner. But now, now things were about to change. I've put all my cards out on the table.

He walked around behind me and put his strong hands on my shoulders and began to massage them.

"Mmmmm...feels good." I say as I close my eyes and feel his powerful hands kneed my knotted muscles.

"Yeah? Good. I like making you feel good. It's the only reason I'm on this planet. It's my only fucking purpose in life right now. Use me for that purpose." He squeezed hard on my traps.

I open my eyes and stare ahead at the blank wall.

"Josh, you're about to cross a very serious line. You better make damn sure you want to cross it because once you do, there is NO turning back. I mean it, boy. NO. Turning. Back." I state firmly.

He lowered his head down, whispered in my ear. "Fuck. Me. Hard."

FUCK yes! He's a bottom. Oh, the feeling I had when he said that. My erection was beyond hard. I've wanted this kid since the first time I saw his cocky ass swagger onto the field. He was arrogant, conceited and liked to fight with other players. More than a few times I've had to break up a brawl between him and some other brute. I'm sure it was just to assert his dominance. He liked the power that came with dominating other guys like himself. The more guys he beat up, the less anyone would ever think he was gay. That gave him the balls to do something dangerous like seduce a football coach. If it went sideways, who would believe me if I were to tell anyone.

I stood up and turned face to face with the athlete. He stared me down almost like a challenge. His demeanor was telling me to bring it on, that he could take it. He wasn't ashamed of getting fucked. In fact, it was obvious this wouldn't be his first time. I suspect bottom is his natural preference. Makes sense. He spent all his time being arrogant and alpha, makes sense he would overcompensate to make up for his feelings that being a bottom is inferior and too feminine in his mind. The last thing he was is feminine and the last thing he wanted was to be found out that he likes taking cock in his ass.

He blew up his chest, showing me how tough he is and that he was worthy of my fuck. It seemed he almost wanted me to laugh at him, to humiliate him. I didn't. He held the intense stare, flexing his jaw.

I put both hands on his biceps and squeezed, running my hands up and down his arms. I brought my gaze up and he was still staring straight ahead. I stared back. I made two fists and firmly pushed them into his pillow-like chest. He lost his balance slightly but swayed back into place. He gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw. I pushed him again, harder with both fists, more of a light punch. He stepped back and then stepped forward to position one. I ran my hands over the smooth, tight, silky shirt over his abs. I suddenly punched harder with both fists into his chest making him stumbled back a few steps, losing his balance. He caught himself and stopped where he was and flexed his upper body. His arms at his side, fists clenched. Again, challenging me.

"Boy, I hope you know what you're doing." I said as I stepped forward and got in his face.

His eyes fluttered as he scanned my face, my hair, my jaw.

"I said, Fuck. Me. Hard," he hissed in his deep voice. Defiant. Nice.

I stared him down like a laser. I grabbed his chin hard and held it up. His eyes wide open. I leaned in quick but I didn't kiss him soft and slow. I fucking dove into that mouth at mock speed. I had one hand latched on the back of his head. I slapped his ass cheek hard with the other hand, grabbing his ass, that perfect athletic muscular ass.

He was taken off guard by the kiss, his eyes grew wide and each hand found my chest and he slightly pushed away. A slight struggle. I mumbled "Uh uh" into his mouth. I smacked his ass again, hard, the slap sound echoing off the walls. His body jerked as he cried out in pain into my mouth at the show of dominance. I pulled him in tighter to me. I guess he thought a guy like me doesn't kiss. He is mistaken. For me, it's almost better than sex. I continued to rape his mouth. He began to moan and it sounded like he was trying to say something, muffled into my mouth. I kept kissing and grabbing. Then his eyes slowly closed. He put his arms around my neck and he ran his fingers through my thick hair. His moans turned into whimpers and short grunts as my tongue drilled into his mouth. I sucked his tongue into my mouth. I opened my mouth as far as it would go and covered his entire mouth as I continued to suck on his tongue.

Suddenly I stopped, I let go of him and put my index finger in his mouth. He closed his lips and sucked on my finger. I pulled the finger out and took his lower jaw into both hands.

"Open," I commanded.

He looked at me, confused at first. Searching my eyes. Slowly, he opened his mouth wide and I spit into it. His head jerked back a bit while his brow furrowed. He was at a loss for what just happened.

"Swallow," I ordered.

He kept his mouth open. His facial expression was one of disbelief. I lightly smacked his face.

"SWALLOW," I stated loudly.

He swallowed. He looked down at his feet and then back to me for approval and considered what he just did.

I smacked his face. His eyes burst open. He was scared. I loved it.

"Open," I growled.

I spit into his mouth again. He swallowed without me telling him to.

"Good boy."

I grabbed his ass again taking ownership of it as I attacked his pouty lips again with my mouth.

I took hold of his ass and lifted him off the ground so his head was above mine. I bear-hugged him as he dangled in the air, looking down at me and swallowing my tongue into his mouth.

I dropped him to his feet. My fingers ran down the outside of his ass, feeling the silky smoothness of his spandex covered ass. My finger pressed into the cloth covering his hole. I pressed hard. He grunted and a high pitched muffled noise came from his throat. I pressed the material into his hole, creating friction.

He was trembling now. I pulled my mouth from his. His eyes wide. I took a hold of his smooth jaw as I pushed him back hard against the wall. He grunted when he hit it. "Ow!" he mumbled. He tried to talk but it was gibberish because I was squeezing that beautiful jaw tight.

Keeping the stare, showing my dominance, my alpha over this tough, muscular asshole of a kid, I slid my hand down into the back of his tight football pants. My finger found its target and without any warning, jammed it in. He let out a muffled scream, his eyes bulged, he arched his back and he raised up onto his toes. I started to finger-bang that hole. If this boy thought he knew what he was doing before, I don't think he did now. I let go of his jaw, turned his head and pushed the side of his face into the wall. I still had my arm around his waist finger-banging his tight pussy. Every push inside him brought him up onto his toes. His back arching more and more bringing that ass away from the wall. His face to the wall, sweat on his forehead, my hand pressing hard on his handsome face and his lips smashed as he tried to make a coherent sound. By the time I was through with him, this hot little fucker was going to know a real man had been inside him.

I fingered him for a few minutes, loving the sound of his moans and groans, the grunts with every push inside him. The look on his face was intoxicating for me. He was worried. He had bitten off more than he could chew. Maybe he underestimated me. At the same time, intoxicated with ecstacy.

Finally, I released his head from the wall and pulled my hand from his pants. I forcefully grabbed onto his throat, pushing his head against the wall. He looked into my eyes, a little defiant, a little turned on, mostly scared. His breathing was labored, heavy. His brow was sweating heavily.

I lowered a hand to his groin and pressed it into his bone. The boy was hung and rock hard, pointing up inside his revealing pants. He sighed loudly and his eyes rolled back a bit as I palmed the underside of his erect cock.

"You still want me to fuck you hard, tough guy? Huh?" I taunted.

He took a deep breath. He swallowed hard. "Fuck. Me. Hard."

I smiled. "You've done this before, haven't you?"

He paused. His face remained defiant. "Fuck. Me. Hard."

"Why should I? Who knows where this pussy has been." I slapped his ass. "For all I know you've been giving this ass up to anyone who will fuck it. Am I right, slut?" I got in his face, nose to nose. "Fucking closet case," I say with a disgusted tone. I paused as I gritted my teeth, trying to intimidate him. Then I smile. "Hey, you into frat boys? Huh? Yeah, I bet you are," I say as I pat his cheek. "You getting some frat boy dick? Some drunk frat boy to fuck your pussy? How many times have you woke up in some frat boy's bed with his cum dripping from your pussy?"

"Fuck. Me. Hard," he replies with a determined tone. His voice shaking. His body trembling.

I nod my head. "Alright, bitch. You want it, you get it."

I grab him by the scruff of his neck, turn him toward my desk and throw him onto it, literally.

"Shit!" he said when he hit the desktop.

He wasn't expecting that. I push him down flat on his chest, hike that ass in the air and push his legs apart. He reaches under to undo his football pants.

"NO!" I slapped the back of his head. "Keep your fucking hands up on the desk, faggot." He flinches. There's that word again. Faggot. I can tell he doesn't like that word but he doesn't care when I call his hole a pussy.

I put a hand on his muscular back and push him down again. I open my desk drawer and rifle around. He's trying to look back to see what I'm doing but he can't. I find my small Swiss Army pocket knife. I open it and lower it down to his ass, very gently poking it through the tight material over his hole, slowly cutting a hole. As I cut, the fabric splits under the tension of being stretched by the size of his bubbled ass.

The boy is sprawled over my desk, hands out front grabbing the edge. His back is arched, ass up and his smooth spandex covered legs are spread apart like a whore at fleet week.

I rifle around again in my desk. I find a small tube of Vaseline. I squeeze some onto my finger and jam it again inside the hole I made in his pants, spearing his hole. He jerks. His head flies up and he groans. I squeeze more onto my finger and roughly apply it to his hole.

After I think I have it lubed up enough, I grab onto the sides of his tiny waist. I line up my cock with the hole and I slide in. The boy jerks and twists, coming up into a push-up position. He yells with jabbing pain. Luckily, my office is in the sports complex and there ain't no one around at this hour.

"Uh huh, tough guy. Don't try to squirm away from me." I grab hold of both of his arms and wrestle them behind his back. His chest and head crash to the desktop. I take each forearm, pull his arms straight back behind him and I pull as I begin to pump the football player's ass. His triceps bulge as I pull his arms back. His head is turned sideways, one cheek smashed down on the desktop. I begin to saw in and out of his ass, slowly at first and then faster as his ass gets used to the intrusion.

He's yelling, swearing and I'm pretty sure he is crying. My shorts are around my knees and the sounds of my abdomen thumping against his football pants as I sweat and curse and slam in harder.

"Oh god! Oh fuck...oh fuck...my fucking hole. Argghhhhh!" He continues to swear and grunt with each thrust I give him. Gradually his voice, hoarse, fades until there is just heavy breathing. Spit and drool pool up on the desk under his face. He is quiet now. Taking my fuck like I want him to. Finally, after a few minutes I hear a quiet, almost whining sound coming from the boy's mouth. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" Over and over again with each thrust.

The boy just keeps repeating himself. FUCK! Either he does this a lot or he really does have a thing for me. He's acting as if he has found the mother fucking pot of gold. He won the damn lottery. I look down at this fucking stud, this outstanding athlete as he lays over my desk taking my cock like the pro he is at everything. I should have known. He's excellent at everything he does, why not getting fucked? He wants nothing but what I am doing to him right now. All the training, the long practices, hours in the weight room has prepared him for this moment. He has built himself to take cock from men like me. Older, experienced, masculine, a mentor. I'm his coach. I'm his father-figure. He idolizes me and wants me to be proud of him. He wants us to be as close as possible and that means I have to be inside him. We become one. He'll have my DNA inside him and he will thrive knowing this. It will make him train harder, tune his body like a machine, make him feel invincible. He relishes in the fact that I picked him to carry my legacies inside his gut.

I release his arms and he drags them to his sides. He can hardly breath. His adrenaline has peaked. I press my groin into his ass, all the way to the root and hold it there. I cork-screw his butt. His head is turning left to right, over and over. The feeling inside him is too intense. I pull him by the waist against me. He moans. I slap his ass. He yells. I slap it again. He yells. I can see his face as he turns it back to me. Tears flow down his cheek. His face flushed red.

I push on his ass as I pull out of him. I slap him on the ass again making him jerk. I grab his ankles and twist them making him flip around on his back. His muscles are straining, veins visible, sweat soaking the uniform. He looks up at me, almost pleading for more, yet, at the same time scared of what I will do to him. He doesn't care. He doesn't care what I do to him, as long as it's me doing it.

He waits with his legs floating in the air above him. He wants to know where I want him. What position? He'll do anything for me. I find his ankles, grab on and split his legs as far apart as I can.

"Take me bitch-style, faggot." I growl. I look down, find the tear in his pants and I go in again. He twitches and his eyes roll back and he moans.

I hold his legs wide open. He keeps intense eye contact. His Nikes pointing up to the ceiling. His quads are flexed hard, each muscle pushing up through the white spandex, straining. He's showing off for me. He's flexing his quads and his calves. He knows I like that. He's showing me how hard he's worked for me, molding and forming his body into something I will feel worthy of my cum. He reaches forward and grabs each ankle just above my hands that already hold them up. I let go and run my hands down his hamstrings to that hot, hot ass. I then caress his quads. I move up to his washboard stomach, peel up the sweaty tight shirt and lick the sweat from his abs. He holds on mercifully to his ankles and pulls his legs apart even further. He's showing me how limber he is, how loose his muscles are. He's showing me that I have access to his hole anytime I want. His body is a temple for me, lean, strong, tight muscle. It's want I want and he knows it. He holds his legs out and is no longer embarrassed that he may look like a woman holding her legs open for her man.

I lean forward onto his chest and take his mouth with mine. We feverishly make out as I pump my cock into his chute. He holds his legs out, stiff and straight. He holds them until he cannot any longer. I feel them wrap around my waist and his heels lock, the roughness of his shoes scrapping along my lower back.

I raise my head and look into his eyes. He is enraptured by my stare. His hands come to my face and stroke my jaw, my cheek and then wipes my hair from my forehead. It's unbelievably erotic to see such a masculine, talented athlete, cocky, arrogant and bullying, normally throwing punches, to see him giving himself to me with all that he is, kissing me, caressing me, wanting me inside him, it's simply astounding.

My thrusts start to slow. His legs clasp tighter to my waist. We kiss passionately, almost romantically. He holds my face in his palms and peers into my eyes.

He whispers, "I'm in love with you."

I don't know why. I don't know how but after he said those words, my cock expanded and I unleashed a torrent of my DNA inside him. My mouth wide open as I bellowed, echoing off the walls. The most intense orgasm I've ever had in my 40 years of life. It just kept coming, exploding, filling him up with my cum. I fell on top of the boy. I thought my heart was going to explode out of my chest. He wrapped his arms around my wide back and pulled me tight.

"Oh god, I've fucking dreamed of this happening for so long." He pants as he slaps my shoulders three times.

I raise my head and looked at him. "Yeah?"

"Dude, you have no idea. You know, the first day I met you, I jerked off as soon as I got home."

"Well I'm not going to say you haven't been the object of some my jerk off fantasies as well."

"Yeah? Oh, wow! That's sick! You're a fucking animal! Big, muscular, fucking brute strength, I fucking can't stand how much I fucking want you."

"Let's make you cum, babe," I say as I kiss his neck.

"Oh, I already did a long ago. I wasn't even touching myself. Dude, it doesn't matter if I get off. I'm here to make you feel good."

"You're a shocker, tough guy. This all seems very uncharacteristic of you."

"I know, right? I just saw you and something clicked. I just knew that I wanted you. Over time I kept getting aroused when you were around me. I also noticed from time to time you were checking out guys. Your eyes seem to linger too long at times. Sometimes you would look at me from across the room and I felt a buzz up my spine. Your presence is so intimidating and dominant. I was fucking scared of you for the first month of practice. You're fucking intense and it turned me the fuck on. I knew you were the one who could put me in my place. When you started paying more attention to me and my workouts was when I decided to just screw it and confront you. You called me here today and I knew today was the day. I remember the first time I came while thinking about you fucking me. I blew so hard, dude. I don't consider myself gay. I mean, I date chics but I like dick but your dick does something for me that other dude's don't. I don't get it but I have to be with you."

"I'm married with kids, tough guy. Being with me doesn't matter cuz it can't happen."

He laughed, "Yeah, I guess not." He paused and then chuckled to himself. He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm in love with you, coach. Don't know why, but I am." He leans over and kisses me.

He's serious. I've seen that look before and it always means the same thing. I can't tell you how many horny closeted fratboys, butch athletes or hot twinks have taken my dick a few times and then profess their love for me. I always lay down ground rules but sooner or later, they all become little bitches and obsess over me. Then I have to kick them to the curb and lose a perfectly good piece of ass.

I'm not sure where to take this. I can't have a love-sick jock following me around everywhere all the time. Not to mention, one of my players as well. How am I supposed to coach a kid that I just fucked? But, how tempting it is though. To have someone like him, ready at my beckon call to bend over and fuck anytime I want. I can't fuck my wife like I fuck him. I can go all out with him, full steam and I can't break him. I can cum in him and not worry about getting him pregnant. And he fucking loves it. I guess there is no harm in keeping a fuckboy on the side.

"We have to keep this between us, Josh. Can't let anyone find out."

"I'm legal, bro."

"I know you are but it's my job at stake. And my family is at stake too."

"I know, I know. What? You think I want the guys knowing I like getting fucked by dudes?"

I move over and sit down into my chair. Josh sits up, legs spread, cum leaking out of his ass, soaking his pants.

"You're going to need another pair of football pants, tough guy." I point at the pool forming on my desk.

He looks down, scoops up a bit and feeds it to himself. I shake my head. Fucking amazing sight to see. One of my best , bad-ass players, eating my cum off his fingers.

"Oh yeah, you're right. Well, shit, what am I going to do with these?"

"You fucking kidding me? Trust me, you'll be wearing these again, tough guy."

"Is that my new nickname of something?"

"It fits you. You're this big, mean, tough football player on the outside and still tough enough to take a pounding fuck from another dude on the inside."

"Huh. I like it. Plus, you can call me that in public and people won't know its double meaning. Can I call you by your first name?"

"Only when we are in private. Otherwise, it's as usual, Coach or Mr. Daniels."

Ok, coach, in school and Craig, when you're balls deep in my butt." He raises his fist to me. I oblige him with a bro fist bump.

"Just don't call me daddy...yet." I laugh.

"Do you fuck other guys?" He asks with a nervous look on his face.

"Yeah. Off and on. Mostly when we travel to away games."

He looked confused.

"All those times I would make myself scarce after games."

"Yeah?"

"Kid, I was laying it into some dude, somewhere. It's the only time I get to get my rocks off with another guy, safely."

"So, all those times we couldn't find you, you were boning other dudes? Who? I mean, where?

"I don't know. It was random. Sometimes a guy I met online, sometimes a dad of one of the players, sometimes a player..."

"So, you fuck around with other players?

"They were opposing team players, usually."

"Wow. Ok."

"Hey, you can fuck anyone you want, tough guy. Well, I mean get fucked, I guess."

"Craig, I told you, I'm here for you. Yeah, I like to fuck around but it's you that does it for me."

"Ok, ok. I don't get it but ok."

"But...but, Craig. I don't want you to fuck other guys."

Here we go. This is what I feared. I should put this fire out now.

"Whoa, wait, tough guy. We're not married and we're not...fucking...boyfriends. I fuck who I want and when I want. You got that, tough guy?"

He scooted off the desk and picked up his jersey. "Fine."

Great, now he's pouting.

"What, now? Damn, you're worse than a woman."

Josh turns to me.

"Do you get what I did for you? I took everything I thought I knew about myself and fucking threw it out the window. I have never felt this way about anyone in my life and I just spent the last hour on my fucking back getting my ass fucked like a drunk sorority girl. I thought you would be impressed. Why do you need other guys to fuck when you have me. You can have me any fucking time you want. You don't need anyone else. God, I'm fucking in love with you, asshole!"

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

"Come here." I point to the spot in front of me.

He shuffles over to the spot. I stand up, take his face in my hands and kiss him on the lips.

"I appreciate what you've done. You took a big leap. I'm fucking psyched I get to fuck you all the time but you're getting emotional and you need to cut that shit out. You're a man, not a girl. I don't fuck guys like that. I fuck men. I guarantee you, I will fuck the shit out of you all the god damn time. I'm your coach and your mentor and now the guy who bones you. You fuck who you want and I fuck who I want. That's the end. Period."

His face became slack. He realized he wasn't going to win. He smiled.

"Sorry, Craig. I don't know what happened. I was acting like some stupid bitch. Of course, we can fuck whoever."

I laughed. "You're not a bitch but feel free to be one when I'm fucking you, tough guy." I wink.

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