Date: Tue, 15 Jul 2008 17:44:46 EDT
From: F27S@aol.com
Subject: "Coach"

Just to give you some background on me before telling you how teaching
changed my life, I'm 24 years old.  I've always wanted to be a teacher and
this past May I graduated with a degree in English and a minor in secondary
education.  Right after graduation I landed a job teaching at a local high
school, the best in the district.  I also married my college sweetheart
that Summer.  I should add that I almost didn't marry her.  No one ever
suspected that I was bisexual, and I spent several days grappling with
whether or not I should get married.  On the day of our wedding, however, I
sat myself down and reasoned it out.  Yes, I'm attracted to men, but only a
certain type of man - really big bodybuilders.  Logically I was just
interested and attracted to power, and it's not like I wasn't attracted to
Sophia, my fiancé.  She was gorgeous - 5'6 slender, blonde, and had an
amazing body.  I was lucky to have her.  I'm not a bad looking guy.  I'm
5'9 155 lbs, slim but very cute.  Sophia was out of my league, though, and
I knew it.  I determined to not let her get away.  We were married with a
beautiful ceremony on the beach.

That August I began teaching, and took right to it.  I loved my students
and my students took to me instantly.  I spent my planning periods and
lunch hour in my classroom preparing so I'd have limited work to take home
with me, and didn't get to know my colleagues quickly.  On the second
Friday of the school year, I got to know Coach Carlson all too well.

It was third block, my planning period.  I was grading papers, circling
comma-splices and correcting misspellings when my door opened.  I didn't
take my eyes off the paper I was grading right away, and a few seconds
looked up to see the coach standing about three feet from my desk.

"Hey.  I'm Brad Carlson.  Everyone here calls me Coach Carlson.  I teach
history and coach the football team."

Brad put his hand out and I stood and walked toward him to shake his hand.
That moment seemed to be in slow motion as I took him in.  Brad stood 6'4
and appeared to be in his early thirties.  He had dark hair combed to the
side.  What I couldn't help but take in was his physique.  This man was
monstrous - at least 250 lbs of solid muscle.  His biceps burst out of his
polo shirt that did nothing to conceal his huge muscles.  His chest was
indescribably well built.  One of his shoulders seemed wider than my entire
frame.  All this tapered down to a perfect waist, where straight front
khakis gripped his inner thighs and legs.  As my small hand entered his
mammoth hand he gave me the most powerful, gripping handshake I'd ever
received causing me to wince in pain for a second.

"You ok, bud?" he asked.

"Ah... yeah... yeah.  Um... nice to meet you, Brad.  I'm Jason, Jason
Rogers."  He squeezed my hand once again causing me to gasp slightly as he
released.

"Everyone around here calls me coach."  He winked as he said this then
began to scratch his huge pectoral.  As he did, the mound of flesh bounced
in the most seductive manner.  "Just wanted to come by and introduce myself
to the newbie."  I didn't say anything.  I couldn't say anything.  I just
stared at his bicep, then his pecs, then his bicep again.  He patted me on
the head as if I were a child and walked out of the door.

All weekend I couldn't get Brad... Coach rather... out of my head.  Four
times that weekend I gave Sophia the fucking of her life, but the entire
time Coach was in my head.  With every thrust I pictured what his body must
look like naked, how his pecs bounce, how his bicep looks fully flexed.  I
imagined his hairy and smooth.  I pictured him in the locker room with this
players.  Each time that weekend I came harder than I'd ever cum.  By
Monday morning I had to see him again.  I made it my point during all free
time to walk the halls in search of him, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.
I finally found him during my lunch hour in the teacher's lounge.  As I sat
there amongst the other staff members, I knew I wasn't the only one under
his spell.  The other teachers, male, female, straight, and gay were all
mesmerized by him.  At one point he just mentioned that he needed a bottle
of water and the entire room nearly fought to get to the soda machine to
purchase it for him.  When he finished eating, he exited the room with
every eye on him.  My eye followed his perfect ass down to the boat shoes
he was wearing without socks.  The flash of his ankle made he harder than
ever.

That afternoon when school was out, I walked out of my way to the football
field.  There he was alone on the field, apparently waiting for the players
to come out of the locker room.  He wore a white t-shirt that clung to him
and a pair of athletic shorts.  His legs were bigger than my waist and his
calves were like grapefruits.  I'd never had a mancrush this hard core.  As
I stared at him I forgot myself for a moment, not thinking that he would
obviously notice me staring - and he did.  I'm not sure how long I was
staring before I realized that he was looking right back at me.  His
piercing green eyes staring right into mine.  At that moment the players
all rushed to the field, and I turned to leave, but not before I noticed
Coach wink at me.  I was caught - my crush was obvious to him and it scared
me quite a bit.

The next day I didn't have to find Coach.  I'd gotten to school early to
grade papers and work on planning.  I sat at my desk hard at work when the
door opened and I looked up to see Coach sauntering into my classroom.  He
was wearing jeans today - against the dress code - and yet another
all-too-revealing polo.  I resolved to try to keep my cool, keep my eyes on
his face rather than his body, and play this off.  I rose and walked over
to a student desk, meeting him halfway in the center of the room.  I sat
down on the edge of the desk.

"Hey Coach."  I realized immediately my voice was too high.  I cleared my
throat and began again.  "Hey Coach, saw you on the field yesterday.  I
wanted to get to know the campus a little better, so I walked out there.
So... how's the team doing this year?"

"Not bad... not bad at all."  He walked up to me and with one hand squeezed
my left shoulder.  With the other, he patted me on the shoulder causing me
to lose focus on his face, my eyes buried in his chest, bouncing as he
patted me.  He then walked over to my desk and sat down.  "You don't mind
if I sit here, do ya?"  He smiled, knowing I wouldn't object.  He then
pulled off his boat shoe and began to massage his beautiful foot, his
biceps flexing with the rhythm.  "Here's the thing, newbie.  I've got a
full class load and the football team to deal with, so I thought I'd drop
off some papers to grade in your mailbox.  I need you to take care of that
and get 'em in my box by morning."  He did all this without looking up at
me, massaging his foot the entire time, knowing I was transfixed by this
action, watching his strong fingers pressing down upon his beautiful tanned
feet.

After a few seconds, I realized what was happening.  "Well... coach... the
thing is I always do my work here at school for a reason.  I try not to
take too much home with me.  I'm sort of a newly wed, and home time is
family time.  Maybe if you talk to the principal, he can get you an extra
planning period since you have the team."

Coach continued massaging for a few seconds, then, rather than putting on
his shoe he kicked off the other and stood to his feet and walked toward
me.  He stood in front of me, towering over me as I sat on the desk and put
his hand back on my shoulder.  "You know you're right.  I didn't think
about that.  I'm sure I could get that arranged."  I felt relieved by his
conciliatory tone, then his grip got tighter, much tighter.  "The thing is,
I can get whatever the fuck I want arranged.  You know why?"

His grip was now unbearable.  I grabbed his forearm with both hands to try
to pry him away from my grip, but he didn't budge.  "You're hurting me,
Coach.  Ouch.  What the fuck?"

"I can arrange what I want, because everyone here is scared shitless and
turned on as fuck by me.  And this includes you.  You'll do what I say,
because you're a wimp and you know I can kick your ass.  You'll also do it
because this gives your meaningless faggot life some connection to me" He
moved his hand under my shoulder and jerked me to my feet, then led me face
first into the chalk board.  With one hand he held both of my wrists,
pushing me into the chalk dust.  "The papers are already in your box, fag.
Now have it done by morning, or I'll kick your ass."

With my face gasping in chalk dust I began to wimper and cry a bit.  His
left hand held my wrists even tighter and more painfully.  I felt his right
hand then unloosen my belt buckle, and open my pants.  His mammoth hand
reached down into my underwear and grabbed my cock and began to stroke.  He
didn't speak, neither did I.  I moaned in pleasure and cried in pain and
embarrassment at the same time.  He jerked one last time and I felt a
tingling sensation like never before.  Beginning in my head, down my spine,
and through my legs then to my cock. I didn't realize what was happening
until I felt myself shooting the biggest load ever all over the wall
beneath the chalk board.  I'd just had the greatest ejaculation of my life,
while getting my ass kicked by the school coach.  He let me go and I
dropped to the floor.  I watched him walk back to his shoes, put them on,
then lightly kick me as he walked out.

To be continued.... Next chapter Coach meets Sophia.  Direct all comments
to f27s@aol.com