The Disciplined Swimmer By: Ty Johnson
Christopher was late again. He hated how he always seemed so uptight. He cursed himself for being so forgetful... again. Beads of sweat secreted on his forehead and his torso as he ran to Physical Education. Chris knew that coach hated it whenever he was late. He really didn't want to get punished today. It was always so humiliating what coach had him do in front of the team. Last Friday, the day designated to running and weights, Coach made him strip down to his jockstrap and do push ups as the rest of the team sat on the side of the pool and counted.
Coach John called Chris into his office after practice and told him that it served him right for coming late. Chris wanted coach to be proud of him and was his primary motivation for bulking up. Coach's toned arms were enough to compete with anyone on the whole swim team, not to mention his slabs of meat on his calves that bulged.
Chris entered the natatorium as swiftly as possible, slipping past coach's office, and into the locker room to change. Chris slammed open his locker and hurriedly stripped, dropping his jockstrap to the floor. There was something about wearing a jockstrap when he didn't have to that thrilled him. He liked dominating the piece of cloth- filling it up with his thick flaccid cock and heavy balls, leaving a couple of loose dark pubic hairs in the cup. He hated it whenever Matthew always stole his jockstrap. He figured out that this was the only deterrent.
Chris ran out on the deck in the natatorium, hoping that he could slip in the water without coach noticing. He was in luck! He dove right into the warm up set, joining the rest of the long bodies, showing all their flesh except for the swatch of fabric over their heavy and deprived loins. Chris swam the main set that coach told his swimmers to do after he came out of his office from doing his regular bullshit paperwork. Chris liked that Coach John referred to them as "his swimmers". In lots of ways, they did belong to him. Six times a week, they pushed their capable bodies according to what he told them to do. After practice, Chris went to the locker room to get changed. He loved the smell of chlorine on himself and his buddies. He loved the feeling of the day's worn clothes on his wet body. He always breathed a deep satisfying breath of his own body- captured in his previously worn clothes.
He left the locker room and was headed towards the exit of the natatorium whenever he heard Coach John say, "Hey Chris, come into my office for a second." Chris liked it whenever coach told him to do things. Most people he considered pushover assholes for asking for him to do something. He had much more respect for people who made commands. People listened when coach commanded.
"Yah, coach? What's up?" Chris said. Coach John looked up from his paperwork his well-developed torso bent over. Coach took off his glasses and told Chris, "Come on in. Sit down." As Chris' thin basketball shorts met the chair, he realized that coach knew that he had been late. Damn it! He thought he was completely off the hook and was completely smooth.
Coach John said, "What does this make... the eighth time you haven't shown to my practice this month?" Chris was impressed that coach remembered exactly the number of times that he was late. Chris tucked his chin and said, "Yes, sir. I guess... I mean... somewhere around eight."
"You know my attendance policy."
"I know. I know. I have to make it up with pushups the number of minutes times ten."
"Not that policy, Chris. After the seventh tardy, you get put on probation and can't swim the next meet."
"Coach! That's completely unfair! You didn't tell me about that! Regionals are this next week and you know I need to get a swimming scholarship for school in the fall."
"I'm sorry, but if I let you be the exception then the other guys might expect me to do the same for them too."
"Coach John, come on. You know you need me for this one. I am your best swimmer. You always admit that to me. Come on... right? Don't you need me?"
"A policy is a policy. You are what... 23? You can show up on time or you will not swim anymore."
Chris couldn't believe that he couldn't talk his way out of this one. He had been training the whole season for this opportunity to go to regionals. "Coach... isn't there some work around here that I can do? Or can I swim it out and get back in the water right now and do another hardcore set? Come on. I need this. I've done everything for this. I will do anything for this."
Coach John came around his desk and sat in front of Chris, leaning himself against the dark wooden desk. Chris looked up at him with a hopeless face, begging. Coach squinted with his dark blue eyes and said, "You really wanna go to regionals?" "Yes," Chris exasperatedly replied.
Coach John said, "Good. Then you need to do exactly as I say, even more than usual. If you leave out one detail, the policy is going to apply to you and you won't get to swim this coming week." "Okay, coach... whatever you say."
Coach rolled his eyes and crossed his stocky hairy arms, "Don't mock me, boy. You know... you can be a real suck up." "I like sucking up sir, its easy to do for you." "Oh? Is that so?"
"Close the door, Chris." Chris immediately jumped to his feet to get the door. As he did he head-butted coach in the jaw. Coach winced as he bit his upper lip. Chris could see the rage overtaking coach and he slammed the door shut, locked it, and closed the blinds because he didn't want for the other guys to see Chris getting yelled at. The other swimmers should have been gone, but he wanted to make sure. Chris secretly hoped that coach would punch him really hard and didn't want the others to see. He wanted to be dominated by coach. He had felt like this before, but not to this intensity. He didn't know what was coming over him.
He sat back down in front of coach. Coach's rage subsided as the pacifying dull pain set in and he got up and looked in the mirror at his upper bleeding lip. Chris got up, got a piece of ice from the ice maker used for sore swimmers, and went over to coach. He told coach to sit down in his chair. Coach's stocky long torso filled the back of the black leather office chair. Chris leaned on Coach's desk, facing him. Coach's thick thighs showed as his gym shorts were hiked up by the leather. Coach's bulge filled the front of his tight black shorts as Chris leaned towards John. Chris placed the ice cube on John's lips. Their eyes met. Chris expected John to look away, but they just held their gaze for a few seconds. Chris got nervous and skittishly averted his eyes from the captivating blue eyes in front of him.
Chris stared at John's crotch. His eyes easily found the swollen spheres of his crotch. Coach's balls were huge. Chris accidentally walked in on coach once and hadn't forgotten his athletic proportions.
John said, "I'm not sure if ice is going to help." Chris said, "Don't be goofy. Of course, it's going to help... the only other thing that heals swelling faster than ice is..."
Chris found himself lean towards John and kiss John's upper lip. It was a slow deep kiss, his lips slightly sucking on John's. Chris leaned back immediately, trying to shake himself from this, but before he could panic and move, John grabbed Chris by the back of his neck and pulled him towards himself. Chris was so weak-kneed that he lost balance and fell against coach in his chair. Chris found himself looking into two hungry eyes. John paused, giving Chris an opportunity to recoil from his stable grasp. When Chris didn't, John pulled Chris' legs up so that he was straddling coach.
They fell into each other, obeying their eager bodies. Coach's five o'clock shadow grazed Chris' chin and cheeks as Coach devoured his face with his wet mouth and tongue.
Coach grasped Chris by the sides of his trapezius. Chris' torso was well developed from such rigorous training that coach had made him do. With his hands under Chris' arms, John picked Chris up like a limp puppy dog and sat him on top of the middle of the desk. John shed his red shirt above his head and threw it across the office, hitting the door, sliding down to the ground.
Chris smiled with an open mouth as he did the classic sex move- he shoved the folders and swimming technique books off onto the floor. Coach laughed. Chris let himself absorb what he was looking at. Coach's torso was covered in dark coarse hair, evenly placed on his swollen chest, down his muscle-curved abdomen, and disappearing into the top of his exposed briefs. Chris looked up at John while he laughed. John's grinning face tilted up, extending the sturdy trunk of his throat as he laughed, making his adam's apple bob up and down.
Chris began to unbutton his shirt whenever coach softly grabbed his left hand with his right, holding his hand away from Chris as John's free hand began to slowly unbutton Chris' shirt, John's softened face telling Chris that he wanted to undress him. John wanted to undress him just as he had done everyday of the season.
Chris' tanned chest glowed under the light of the classic office lamp with the green glass shade. John's thick fingers explored Chris' smooth chest and nipples, admiring the natural hairless torso in front of him. John gently pinned Chris by his wrists against the desk, Chris' arms above his head, exposing the tufts of hair in his arm pits. John's eager tongue licked the hair and then worked its lapping way around to Chris' nipple. John quickly licked his nipple like it was an ice cream cone about to drip on his shoe. John savored the taste of his chlorinated sweat even more than he would've ice cream.
John made his way down the gasping belling of Chris until he met his lower abdomen. John took his hand and worked it under the cloth of Chris' jockstrap, cupping his balls and shaft. John began to work his hand down farther, gathering Chris' balls into his wide palm until John passed his balls. Chris' jeans suddenly unbuttoned from the force of John's wrist as John reached deeper under his swimmer. John's middle finger found Chris' asshole. To his amazement, Chris' hole was in the middle of hair. John let a laugh escape deep within him. He couldn't believe how hot this was.
In a couple seconds, Chris shed his pants and jockstrap and threw them across the room, adding them to the developing pile of clothes. Coach's eyes smiled and stared at Chris' as he lowered his head to Chris' wanting crotch.
Chris leaned up to watch John place the head of his dick into his mouth. Coach realized he was what coach called a "watcher". John made sure that his gleaming mouth slowly engulfed the swollen red head of Chris, sucking the precum from his slit.
Chris leaned his head back, exposing his white throat. He felt it vibrating from the deep moan escaping him.
John let Chris' cock slide deeper into his mouth, past his depressed tongue, hitting the back of his moist throat. He lifted his mouth to suck on Chris' head. John rotated his head left, then right, then left back and forth, massaging the edge of his mushroom head between his lips.
John grabbed Chris, pulling his wrists against Chris below the knees, bending Chris' knees. Coach folded Chris up until his ass was exposed, his bulbous cheeks spread and hair blooming from Chris' crack.
John looked up at Chris's pleasure scrunched face and laughed, the air of his laugh blowing against Chris' hole. John didn't waste any time and dove into the boy, tasting the water from their pool. His wide tongue placing pressure against his puckered hole, asking his swimmer to relax and let his wining tongue in. He relaxed, letting coach's tongue into him. Chris gasped and held his breath, pushing his stomach in as though exhaling. Chris felt energy travel down his torso to his loins and even farther, to his ass where John camped out.
John placed his exploring middle finger into his own mouth and massaged his swimmer's hole with the very tip. He applied a little pressure and watched his finger disappear into him. Coach's tongue lapped at the sides of his own finger, wetting the outer portion of Chris' ass.
Coach found Chris' prostate, plunged deeper into him, and pressed against it. Chris immediately bent forward with shock from the pleasure. Coach grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back against the sweaty desk.
Chris heard the sounds of the desk drawer open, some spastic shuffling, drawer closing, and then a condom wrapper. Coach climbed on the desk on top of Chris, his chest hair tickling Chris.
Coach told him, "I really want to be in you. Can I?" The way that he asked and completely paused let Chris know that Coach wanted him, but that he wanted what Chris wanted more. Chris said in a rough voice, "Fuck me coach. I want to feel you inside me. I want you to feel me from the inside."
Coach smiled, relieved and somehow even more horny. Chris felt Coach pressure against his hole, the head of coach widening him up. Coach breathed heavily in ecstasy. Chris placed his strong hands on his coach's ass and pulled him towards himself. Coach flexed his thighs and felt warmth engulf his swollen cock. Both men's heads flew backwards as a wave of mutual pleasure slammed through them, Chris bowing his back off of the desk, coach's head facing the ceiling, cock thrusting deeper through his warm contracting tunnel.
Coach's teeth showed as pleasure receded his lips. Chris pushed John off of him, flipped over, knelt, and then leaned against the wet desk. Coach straddled his swimmer on either side placed his dick against Chris and pushed. Chris felt John reenter him and yelled from the amazing pleasure, being opened up by him. John bent over, place his arms around Chris' raised shoulders, hugging him as he slammed into him. Coach bit his shoulders and grasped his hair.
Chris cried, "Coach. Deeper. Deeper!" John wasn't sure if he could take all of him but slammed into him- this time harder than before. He heard the slapping of his balls against his swimmers ass over and over again- getting louder. John slammed his deprived balls against his swimmer.
Chris felt a tension deep within him- surfacing. Here it comes. Something is getting closer. Closer. Here it is. "Coach I'm going to cum!" "That's my boy, cum with me inside you," he said.
Chris' mouth flew open.
"Fuck me Jooohn! Unnnggghhhhh!"
Coach's head swelled in Chris as Chris clenched his ass.
Chris' body slammed into the dark wood harder. Harder. Coach went deeper. Deeper. Chris' ass constricted and opened with each thrust Coach bowed his back. Deeper. Coach shouted at his swimmer, "I'm going to cum, sport!" Coach pulled out of Chris shucked his shaft of the condom. Chris quickly turned over. He wanted his coach's cum on him. "Cum on me!" "You want it?" "Yes!" "Say you want it sport!" Coach's chest heaving violently. "Coach, soak me!" "Unnnnngggghhhhhhh," coach GUSHED huge ropes of cum all over him.
While coach was still moaning and cumming, Chris slid between coach's legs, placing his face below the huge exploding member.
Chris flinched from the first impact of cum and then closed his eyes as he was coated with his coach.
John collapsed next to Chris- heaving chests. They held breaths to revel in perfect pleasure.
Breathing- slower Cocks- recoiling Dry mouths- loudly swallowing A long deep sigh. Closed eyes.
It took them a while to orient themselves from the intensity. John climbed on top of Chris, collapsed on his chest, listening to his slowing heart. John leaned up, looked at Chris, and said, "Good work, sport."
"Thanks. Is this what happens every time I'm late from now on?"
"If you swim well at regionals, I'm sure we can work in an extra training session."
If you like what you read, then please feel free to contact me. If I get a few emails, I will write more. Contact me: stickypages@live.com