Date: Sun, 18 Jul 1999 13:31:18 -0400 From: male_excite@hotmail.com Subject: Coach Easton I'll never forget the first time I laid eyes on the man. Coach was 100% USDA grade A beef - even his demeanor oozed of masculinity. As he read off the names from the roll roster I studied his 36 year old, 6'3", 215 pound solid frame through his Westville High coach uniform - A gold pullover shirt, dark brown shorts, white socks and dirty Adidas sneakers. I noticed that his frame was held up by two very thick muscular hairy thighs and well developed hairy calves. His light brown hair and slightly darker thick mustache accentuated his tanned face from the many days in the afternoon sun as Westville's Varsity Soccer Coach. It was his crystal blue eyes and pearly white straight teeth that really put the finishing touches on this god-like stud of a man. Being only fourteen at the time and new to Westville as an incoming freshman - I thought that life could not be treating me any better as I sat there on the bleachers admiring Coach Easton. "Finley" barked Coach. "Kevin Finley" he barked again aggressively. "Here" I said raising my hand startled back to reality. He looked around to see where the voice was coming from and our eyes met in a brief exchange. Coach made a notation in his roll book and continued with roll call. Soon we were shuffled off to another part of the gym, but I had to lag behind for a few minutes to let my teenage hardon subside. Just looking at Coach gave me an instant hardon. P.E. was required for two years or four semesters in order to graduate from high school. I took P.E. for four years or eight semesters. I had Coach Easton for my entire stay at Westville. Coach was very popular with the female students in our co-ed P.E. classes. He always seemed to have an entourage of young high school girls wherever he went. Who could blame them as Coach was possibly the sexiest person alive to those of us who noticed such things in high school? Knowing that I was gay for two years by that point and knowing that if I ever took a shower in P.E. class, my 8" cut dick would certainly give me away as being a fag - so I avoided the shower situation during the four years of P.E. But, being gay never stopped me from beating off thinking about Coach Easton almost nightly before turning in. "Hit the showers so you don't smell like a bunch of dead goats for your next class you dummies" Coach often barked as class ended. (I guess Coach would know what a dead goat smelled like growing up in Montana like he did). It was a daily ritual that Coach would stand in the towel cage, which was flanked by two large shower halls on either side of it, handing out towels to our class and every other P.E. class for that period. Coach could stand in the middle of the cage and stop any horse play that he observed going on in either shower hall. It was during my last semester at Westville High that I started coming to P.E. class late. I had drafting class just before P.E. and I wasn't very skilled at it. I often had to stay after class to finish my assignments because I often had to wait for the drafting teacher to come over to help me and on a one-to-one basis. Coach knew why I was late coming to P.E. and it was never an issue until the first week in May - five weeks before graduation. "Finley" Coach shouted from across the field, "See me after class!" After class, I approached Coach Easton but he was chatting with Coach Smitty and I had to wait for him. As I stood next to Coach, I just then realized that I had certainly grown and filled out during the fours years that I had known him; but , my 5'9", 165 pound frame paled in comparison to his. During my freshman, sophomore, and junior years, Coach really encouraged me to lift weights - which I did. Coach sometimes worked out with us and on at least two dozen occassions Coach work out with me one-on-one. "Yeah Coach?" I asked when he turned to me. "You've been late to class every day for the past three weeks and you're in jeopardy of failing P.E. unless you make up your tardies. You can do that by coming this Saturday and cleaning both equipment rooms," he stated. "But Coach, you know why I'm late," I protested. My lateness had never been an issue before and I began wondering why it was an issue at this late date. "Either make them up this weekend or take P.E. in summer school - those are your only options," Coach said coolly. "Do a good job and I'll take you out to lunch afterwards" he added trying to sway me. I really hated Coach right then. My eighteenth birthday was this Friday and I had planned on going out and most likely I'd be out late and in no condition to come and clean the equipment rooms the next day. Coach also knew it was my birthday on Friday. Why couldn't I clean the equipment rooms the following weekend? I arrived at 7:30 am on Saturday morning and Coach's big red '94 Dodge Ram truck was already in front of the larger equipment room. "You're on time Finley" mocked Coach. I ignored his comment and took a look around the equipment room. It was pretty thrashed. "Take everything out of this room. Inspect all of the equipment, put the repairable stuff off to the side and throw out anything that can't be repaired into the dumpster. Sweep the floor and put everything back neatly," Coach instructed. "When you're done, start on the other equipment room and do the same thing. Also, did you remember to bring a change a clothes liked I told you to? I'm not having lunch with some dead goat." I nodded yes and gave Coach a cold, dismissive, glare. To my surprise, Coach stayed with me and helped me the entire time cleaning both equipment rooms. We mostly chit chatted and he asked me about my birthday. I told him it would have been a lot better if I wasn't there cleaning the room. I told him I didn't go out thanks to him. He coolly told me to "suck it up and get over it." By the time we finished both rooms, it had become a rather hot 95 degree day in our beach town suburb of Los Angeles. Coach's shirt was damp from perspiration. Sweat beaded up on Coach's rugged masculine face. God was he handsome! "I turned the boilers on this morning" Coach announced as we left the last equipment room. Knowing what that statement was leading to I said, "I don't need to shower Coach - 'cuz I didn't sweat today." Coach quickly barked, "You're a god-damn liar Finley. You're shirt is soaked and you smell like a dead goat! We're not eating until you shower," and with that Coach lead me into the locker room. I went to my locker which was on the same aisle as the door to the towel cage. Before I knew it, Coach was in the towel cage and had stripped down to his jock strap and socks. I started quivering as I looked over at Coach admiring his body. Man fur covered both of his big round pecs and over his abs. A denser thinner strip of man fur ran down the middle of his stomach beyond his jock strap. His well developed arms flexed as he removed his socks. Coach looked up at me and barked, "Get a move on Finley! I'm hungry!" I stripped and headed for the shower head furthest away from Coach. I had my back to him just in case he looked over at me. I knew what as going to happen and sure enough I was right. My 8" cut dick stood up and out and was exposing me for the fag that I was. My worst fear had come true. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Coach facing me - his entire torso and legs covered with soap suds and his tanned skin and dark fur visible through the soapy film. Although his groin area was covered with suds - I still saw his long, thick, flaccid dick and bull balls hanging. I never dreamed he was so defined and handsome. The man of my beat off dreams was only a few feet away from me - standing naked in all of his glory. I was off in dreamland when I heard Coach barking at me to hurry up. By this time he was already back in the towel cage drying off. I knew I was busted because my hard on was thicker and longer than it had ever been - to the point that it hurt. I tried walking to the towel cage nonchalantly but my dick swung from side-to-side. I was completely embarrassed! I walked up to the window and asked for a towel. Coach growled for me to come get one myself. As I entered the towel cage, Coach had his right foot up on a chair and he was drying his muscular right thigh. I saw that his man meat was semi-erect and pointed out in a 45 degree angle. I gasped - it was like someone knocked the wind out of me. I had to slide past Coach in order to get a towel. My left arm accidentally brushed against his hairy ass cheeks when I squeezed by him. I was now in between Coach and the towels. I quickly grabbed a towel, laid my hardon in the "up" position against my belly. I tied the towel tightly around my waist - but my boner and its outline still gave me away anyway. I looked at Coach to see what he was doing and he had his towel over his head drying his hair with both hands. In doing so he was flexing his two big round biceps while moving his hands back and forth over his head. His forearms were bent and flexed and I saw that they too were thick, muscular, and hairy just like the rest of him. This visual of Coach's muscular biceps and hairy forearms wasn't helping my hardon very much. As soon as Coach lifted the towel off his head his eyes dropped immediately to my towel and said, "Hey, it happens to all of us guys" gesturing to my hardon. "See?" he said as he grabbed his dick by its base. Coach's dick was perfectly shaped - 9" cut, very thick, very veiny, with a perfectly formed mushroom head - it's piss hole was enlarged too. What was happening? Was I dreaming? Coach shifted his weight from the chair and was now standing completely on the ground. He leaned over and started massaging my dick through the towel. Our eyes met. I searched his eyes for an answer to what was happening. He simply looked back at me all the while he massaged my dick through the towel. Then, Coach reached to the top of my towel untieing the ends. The towel dropped to the floor and my hard dick leaped out. Coach reached for my dick and with his thick thumb started smearing my precum all over my mushroom dick head and piss hole. "Feel good buddy?" Coach asked. I nodded yes. "Want me to stop?" he asked. I shook my head no. He straightened up and moved to within a couple of inches of me. I caught a whiff of his musky man scent. He took my right hand and cupped it over his thick cock and balls. His dick was hot and I could feel the blood pulsating through its veins. I started to jack him lightly. "Yeah..." Coach said in a deep throaty low voice, "good boy." My left hand explored his hairy chest. His pecs were firm and covered with coarse, curly, chest hair. My left palm roamed back and forth between each pec, over his hard nipples, and finally down over his firm abs. I quivered the whole time. Coach noticed me shaking and wrapped both of his arms around me giving me a bear hug. "Take it easy buddy - everything is going to be all right" he said as he slowly ground his dick into mine. Coach reached behind him and rotated the chair and sat down facing me. He stared at my dick and then grabbed it by its base. His free hand started massaging my balls. Before I knew it, Coach's hot, moist, mouth on my dick. I looked down to see his thick brown mustache wrapped around my cock. Coach sucked me slowly and methodically. I explored his muscular shoulders, biceps and triceps, as he continued to suck my dick. I ran my hands over his hairy forearms too. As Coach sucked me holding my dick in his right hand - his left hand explored my stomach, thighs and butt cheeks. Coach's hands were big, strong, and very masculine. Coach was making some pretty deep throaty sounds as his lips and tongue explored every inch of my dick. About 5 minutes of this was all I could take. I started to whimper and began shooting my hot boy cum into Coach's mouth. Coach pulled me closer to him by wrapping his left arm around my waist and held me there. I drained my balls into his throat. After a few moments, I stepped back to pull out of Coach's mouth. As I did, I stepped into a puddle of cum. Coach must have cum without touching himself. When my dick slid out of his mouth, a glob of cum clung to the right side of his mustache. I wiped the cum off with my index finger. Coach grabbed my wrist and held it firmly. He then leaned forward and licked my finger clean with the flat part of his tongue. Neither of us spoke again until we were on the way to Mc Donald's. Coach told me that I must never tell anyone what just happened or else he'd lose his job. I swore to him that I wouldn't. After lunch Coach drove me back to school to retrieve my bike which I had rode to school that morning. I got out of the truck and stood there facing Coach with the passenger door wide open. Coach asked me what time I told my folks I'd be home. "5:00 pm" I said. (It was now 12:45 pm). Coach tapped his fingers on the truck steering wheel while looking off into the distance for a few moments. He turned back to look at me, "Would you like to play around some more with me before you go home?" he asked. "Yes!" I said enthusiastically. I threw my bike into the back of Coach's truck and off we went. As we approached Coach's place, which was in the next beach side city, Coach told me to duck down in my seat so that none of his neighbors would see me. He then drove his truck into his garage and we entered his townhouse through there. Coach's place was pretty nice but it hardly had any furniture. Coach must have been reading my mind and said that he and Mrs. Easton separated five month before and that she took most of the furniture. Coach gestured me through an open door and we were soon in his bedroom. He saw that his bed was unmade and pulled the sheets and blankets over trying to make it look more inviting. Coach then went to his closet and tossed me a terry cloth robe and told me to get comfortable as he headed off for the bathroom. I heard some water running for a long time and Coach emerged from the bathroom about 20 mins later wearing only a towel around his waist. I laid flat out on his bed in his robe - naked. Coach came over to the side of the bed that I was on and stroked my cheek with the back of his big hairy hand, "Are you OK with all of this Finley?" I nodded yes. Coach climbed over me to get into bed and propped himself up on his side facing me. With his free hand, he ran the back of his hand over my face and over my chest. Coach then took me into his strong arms and started to deep kiss me. As he kissed me, he held the back of my head. Our tongues explored each other's mouth. His mustache hairs tickled my upper lip. Coach then rolled over and laid flat on his back and opened his towel exposing his engorged dick. I was propped on my side facing coach, and as I did, I looked down at Coach's man dick and I wanted to know what it tasted like. I grasped a hold of Coach's dick and lowered my face unto it. I opened my mouth and covered my teeth with my lips. Coach's dick head was pretty fat and I had to stretch my mouth even further. As I did, I was able to get his dick head into my mouth. Coach sucked in air through his teeth and arched his back. I formed a ring with my thumb and index finger and pressed my lips to the ring. As I slid the ring up and down his shaft, my tongue licked the underside of his mushroom head. This was the first suck job I'd ever given and I must have been doing a good job because Coach moaned and squirmed as I sucked him - laying there with his arms over his head. Soon, I began tasting a salty substance that I had never tasted before. After awhile, Coach raised up and told me that my suck job really felt good on him. Next, Coach spread his legs and instructed me to get in between them. I got into position facing him sitting on my knees. Coach then shifted his weight and lifted his legs into the air resting his calves on my shoulders. Coach grabbed me by my waist and pulled me closer to him and we started kissing again. I kissed his cheeks and ears, licked his neck and chin, chewed on his hairy pecs and hard nipples. I couldn't get enough of this man. Coach lifted me away from his pecs and we began kissing again. This time, Coach pulled me even closer to him - the back of his knees were now resting on my shoulders - my chest was resting on the back of his thighs. As Coach pulled me closer, I felt the head of my dick enter a warm, moist, place. It felt really good. I repositioned myself and my dick slid in all the way to the base as we continued to kiss. I started rocking back and forth and this rhythm felt good on my dick. So I did it more. The more I rocked - the better it felt. Soon I found myself bucking my hips into Coach's backside. I looked down and saw my dick sliding in and out of my Coach's ass. I was fucking Coach! I looked down at Coach and he nodded approvingly. I repositioned myself into a pushup position, almost bending Coach in half, and I really started pounding Coach then. Coach started moaning and his head began to moving from side-to-side. He let out a low, deep, throaty cry and panted, "Faster Finley, faster!" I bucked faster trying to please him. "C'mon buddy fuck me!" he shouted intensely with clinched teeth. "Yeah, do it! Do it! Fuck me Finley!" Within 20 seconds Coach cried out, "I'm cumming!" loud enough that I'm sure the neighbor's heard through the common wall. Ropes of thick white cum shot from his dick. One rope landed on his hairy chest, one hit his chin, and another flew past him and landed on the headboard. All of this was much more than I could take and I leaned forward putting all of my weight on my wrists and started cumming myself. My dick expanded as Coach's sphincter muscles clamped down on my dick, holding my dick in place, as my balls emptied into him. We were both panting and dripping with sweat. I collapsed onto Coach. He wrapped both arms around me and I rested my head on his hairy chest. The smell from his perspiration bonded me to him as we drifted off into a restful nap. The following few weeks of school Coach pretty much ignored me - this made me feel pretty sad. As I walked down the aisle to receive my high school diploma I looked over and saw Coach in the faculty section. He nodded and gave me a big warm smile. After Westville's graduation ceremony, Coach came up to me and congratulated me. "Going to Grad Night at Disneyland tonight, Finley?" asked Coach. "Sure am Coach" I said. Coach paused and looked towards the ground. He drew imaginary lines into the wood floor with his foot. Turning back to me, Coach finally said, "Listen Finley, Mrs. Easton served me with divorce papers last week. It looks like I'm going to need to take on a roommate - would you be interested?" I looked at Coach and smiled brightly. "You bet I would Coach!" I exclaimed. "I thought you would" Coach chuckled putting his arm around me giving me a squeeze. "You know something Finley?" asked Coach. "What Coach?" "I was counting the days until your eighteenth birthday. I've had my eye on you ever since the first day of class when you were a freshman. There was just something about you." When I awoke, Coach was dressed and walking around his townhouse. "C'mon Finley, I gotta get you home it's almost 4:30 pm" Coach said gruffly. I quickly got dressed and headed home so I wouldn't be late...