Date: Sat, 16 Dec 2017 09:32:47 -0500
From: a4f tales <a4ftales@gmail.com>
Subject: "12 Tales of Christmas II: The Rendezvous, Part One"

Here's a story taken from my Tumblr, at
talesfromunderthemattress.tumblr.com. You can find this one, and the pic
that inspired it, here:
talesfromunderthemattress.tumblr.com/post/161797092689/

You can also find a whole lot more of my stories here on Nifty - look for
'a4f101' in the Prolific Authors listing.

This story is purely a work of adult erotic fantasy, copyright me 2017. I
own it and all legal rights to it. If you're under the age of majority in
your jurisdiction, please come back when you're of legal age.

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I love hearing from you guys. a4ftales@gmail.com. Enjoy.

*****

Author's note: this is a sequel to an earlier story of mine, "Most
Improved", which you can find on Nifty here:
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/the-twelve-tales-of-christmas/most-improved

*****

"You ready, dude?" Brady said as we jogged across the soccer fields towards
the gym building.

"Yup," I nodded, liking how deep and decisive my voice sounded. Inside,
though, I was nervous as fuck. Excited, too. A whole mess of feelings about
all this, concentrated in my gut and my dick.

It was Brady's idea to run to school for this, rather than drive
over. "Cars'll look suspicious there with the school closed, and besides -
we'll work up a little bit of a sweat, and that'll make things even
better. Get us both nice and warmed up and limber, too," he'd said with a
grin that got my insides all tingly, making me think about what we were
getting warmed up for. Something he'd been hinting at ever since last
Christmas, with his casual mentions of Coach P and how they were still
close, even with Brady away at Penn. Something he'd promised me when he got
home for this Christmas break.

"Just for you, bro," he'd panted as he slid the length of his thick seven
inches in and out of me, his first night home. "For being such a stud this
season. Helping take the title. Just like I did for him."

That was everything to me. Brady's wrestling shoes had been big ones to
fill, but I'd been working hard to do it, hitting the gym, doubling down on
training, trying to prove to him and Coach that I was just as good as Brady
ever was. Even better, maybe, though Brady would definitely never admit
that, but it was cool. I knew I was good, and Coach did too, and now I was
getting the chance to step up for him like my brother had, in a whole
different kind of way.

Brady reached the back door to the gym building a step or two ahead of
me. He looked fine as hell, wearing his old senior-year team sweats, his
bigger college-boy body filling them out even better than it used to. I
liked to think I looked pretty good in mine too, getting big like him, my
ass and legs and shoulders and chest all on point, like his always had
been.

"Last chance to back out, if you don't wanna go through with it, bro," he
grinned at me, one hand on the door handle.

"Fuck, no way," I said, starting to get a little antsy now. "You serious?"

"Attaboy," he grinned, slapping my shoulder. "That's my bro. This is gonna
be fuckin' great."

It was weird seeing Coach P out of his usual gear he wore - instead of his
sweats and T-shirt and warmup jacket, he had jeans on that fit his thick
thighs and high, round ass like a dream, boots and a fraternity
hoodie. Didn't matter what he wore - one look at Coach P and you knew he
was a wrestler, with his powerful frame, his big shoulders and strong
hands, even if he was a little thicker around the middle than he was in his
college champ days. You could see it in the way he walked, even, that
tight-assed, loose-limbed wrestler strut that was all about a solid core,
his heavy arms hanging at his sides like he was ready to take you on at any
time. Shit, I thought his mature thickness just made him even sexier, that
and the thick, trimmed beard, all dirty blond, with the occasional hint of
red showing in it. OK, so I spent a lot of time staring at Coach during
practice, making it look like I was soaking up every bit of wisdom he had
to give, when mostly I was just soaking in his rough-edged good looks, his
powerful frame, how the way he looked now compared with the pic he had on
the wall of his office, him in his red high school singlet, the same age I
was now, arm held up by the ref. Hot then, even hotter now, and yeah, I'd
been crushing on him a good few years now.

It was weirder seeing him looking a little nervous, even though he was
trying hard not to show it. He smiled tightly at me and Brady as we came
into the locker room. Usually he had a quietly... not quite stern, I guess,
but commanding presence. Right now, he seemed a little edgy, and I guess
maybe I was now too, feeding off his energy, instead of Brady's relaxed
vibe.

"First thing," Coach said, after we'd said hello and all that shit. "I
don't make a habit of this. Ever. Too dangerous. This has gotta be all
about trust."

"Yes sir," Brady said, polite and earnest, but with a knowing smile too.

Coach looked at me, long and hard, like he was sizing me up. I'd seen him
look at me that way a lot, especially this past year. It always gave me a
thrill, deep down in my guts, and made me square my shoulders and stand up
straighter. Looking for his approval. Trying to show him I wasn't just a
student, or a wrestler, but a man, too.

"Like I said, Matt," he said, eyes on mine. "It's all about trust. Can we
trust each other?"

"I'm trusting you with a lot too, Coach," I said. "So yeah. You can trust
me. I know I can trust you, right?"

Coach nodded at me, giving me another slow, up-down look, a deeper look
than he usually did when school was in session. Definitely appraising me in
a manly way.

"Awesome," Brady said. "Matty has something to show you, Coach. Something
he's showed me a lot, this past year. So, anytime you're ready..."

Coach swallowed hard, then nodded, gave me a slightly nervy smile that I'd
never seen on him before.

"Yeah, guess I am," he said, eyes deep on mine. "Show me what you got."

I grinned at him and got to work.

"Aw fuck," Coach P growled a few minutes later, sitting on the bench, thick
thighs spread, his jeans and his boxer briefs down around his
ankles. "Jesus, Brady said you could... damn..."

I looked up at him, happy to receive his praise this quickly. I would've
smiled if I could, but my lips were stretched around his fat fuckin' cock,
thick and hard and sturdy like the rest of him. I had one hand wrapped
around the fat base of his shaft as I worked my way down, and the other
kind of tentatively rubbing his muscular thigh, all thick and firm and
covered in gold-brown fur. So instead of smiling, I did my best to say
"Thank you, Coach", which just came out as a deep murmur around his salty
musky thickness as I took him down. Just like I'd showed Brady I could do
for the first time, last Christmas.

"Shitttttt," he hissed, his eyes scrunching closed as my murmur vibrated
around his cock, one hand coming up off the bench to kind of clutch the
back of my head. Hell, if he liked that, he was gonna love what else I
could do, so I set to work showing him. I slurp-swallowed my way down his
veiny, chunky Coach cock, working diligently until my nose was buried in
his musky dirty blond bush, my eyes starting to stream, spit starting to
flow out the stretched corners of my lips. It was a lot of work, but it was
work I could do, work I liked to do, and after Brady, this was the guy I'd
most wanted to do it to. Fuck, he tasted so good, clean but manly, like
he'd showered recently, but not too recently. It made his taste all complex
- salt and sweat and just dude, the taste of a man. Like Brady's big cock
tasted, only deeper and richer. Like I knew I was starting to taste as I
matured.

"See, told ya, Coach," Brady grinned, his hand ruffling the top of my hair
in a proud big brother kind of way. "Kid's a natural at it."

Coach P wasn't as big as Brady, lengthwise at least, so I had an easier
time with him than I had with my big bro at the beginning. With all of him
buried in my mouth and at the top of my throat, I had both hands free, so I
kept squeezing his big thigh with one hand, and reached under my chin to
take hold of his fat, heavy balls with the other. That got another groan
out of him, one that stretched out as I worked my throat muscles around his
musky thickness. I brought my head back up, lashing his shaft with my
tongue as I worked my way back up his length, until I was back to sucking
on the fat head of it again, letting my spit flow thick and heavy down his
flesh, before sucking my way back down again. It wasn't exactly effortless,
but I was making it look good, and the more I got into it - I mean, I'd
been into the idea of this for a couple years now, so I guess I mean the
more I got into the whole situation - the more he moaned, and the more
awesome and proud I felt.

I met Coach's half-closed eyes as I worked him over, up and down, taking
him deep, his thick bush all matted with my spit, fondling his balls and
rubbing the thick length of his quad. Our gazes locked and he stared at me,
half with lust, half with disbelief, as I gave him my all.

"Coach has wanted this for a long time, bro," Brady's voice murmured, close
to my ear. "You're really giving him something special, you know that?"

"Hrrrmmmph," I hummed around Coach's hardness, making him moan and squirm
again. Brady's strong hand rubbed my back up and down encouragingly. I was
glad to have him there. I never would have had the balls to propose this to
Coach in the first place, so the way my big brother had teed this whole
deal up was awesome. Even better with him right there, encouraging me.

The more I fondled Coach's balls as I worked him over, the more my fingers
rubbed his spit-damp taint, through the thick moist fur there, and from the
more mineral taste mixing in with the spit in my mouth, I knew he was
flowing more precum. I knew he liked it. I was starting to wonder about
Coach a lot more. So I stroked his taint more determinedly, feeling him
inch his hips closer to the edge of the locker room bench, giving me more
access the closer I got to the heat of his hole. Finally, I grazed my
spit-soaked fingertip over the edge of his tightness, feeling his whole
body tense up and his cock spit in my mouth as both his big grappler's
hands clamped my head.

"Awwww shitttttt," he hissed. "Too close, kid. Fuck."

His big, strong hands moved my head up the length of his cock and off with
a lewd, wet popping sound. Thick trails of my spit connected his throbbing
flesh and my lips as I looked up at him, giving the pulsing, angry tip of
him a slow lick, savoring the rich manly taste of his piece.

"Christ, Barrett," he grunted, staring at me. I sat back on my haunches
like I did on the mats in practice, looking up at him expectantly, waiting
for his next instruction. He leaned forward a little, his big
upward-curving hardon rubbing a wet spot on the front of his old fraternity
hoodie, and the whole sight of that made my cock throb even more in my
sweats. I hadn't checked in with myself since I'd started working his tool
over, too focused on the pleasure of the task at hand, but I wasn't at all
surprised to feel myself hard as iron.

"You kiss, kid?" he said after a long moment, and I grinned.

"He sure does, Coach," Brady said, then hunkered down next to me, turned my
chin to face him, and leaned in and fed me his tongue in a long, slow,
sloppy bro kiss. He'd kissed me for the first time last Christmas, and once
I'd gotten over the surprise of how into it he was, we'd made a pretty
regular habit of it. Sometimes when he was home on break, we'd lay around
and watch movies and make out for a good long while, before it got the best
of us, and we'd head upstairs to fuck.

"Aw damn," Coach grunted, watching the brotherly makeout happening right in
front of him, his hand reaching for the spit-shined curve of his hard
cock. Me and Brady were really going for it. We'd never done anything in
front of anyone else before - I mean, he'd mentioned it in our fuck talk
sometimes, the idea of going to town on each other in front of his buddies
back up at school, and holy fuck that had driven me nuts, just picturing it
- so it was a little weird at first, but Brady's talented tongue got me
over all that pretty damn quick.

When Brady finally released me from the liplock, ruffling my hair again as
he grinned at me, I was boning my sweats real damn hard. I stood up slowly,
stepping between Coach's bare, spread knees, and let him see how into all
this I was. Yeah, sure, this was risky, like he'd said - risky, but hot as
fuck, and I think we were all in agreement that it was totally worth it. I
leaned in as Coach looked up from my cock to my face, his lips parting, and
without waiting for instruction, I cupped the back of his handsome head and
pressed my lips to his. He stayed still for a moment, like he was resisting
me inside and out, but then his mouth shifted a little, almost an
invitation to slip my tongue inside his mouth. So I did, grunting at the
hot intensity of making out with my stud coach, one of my go-to fantasy
players, as my big brother watched us.

Coach was a good kisser, and once he got over his internal hangups about
making out with one of his students, he really went for it. His big hand
clutched the back of my head as he fed me his tongue, the other reaching
for my hip as we grunted and slurped and fed on each other. Slowly he rose,
and after a minute, his thick arm snaked around my waist and pulled me into
his powerful body, making me shiver all over as I felt the strength of him
against me. I'd felt it before, practicing holds and stuff, but there'd
always been a careful kind of distance, a different kind of focus to
that. This was just pure man to man sex, two hard cocks pressing into each
other as our tongues danced.

"Go for it, Coach," Brady said. "He's wanted this longer than you have, I
bet."

Coach moaned into my mouth at that, his big paws coming down to knead my
high, tight ass, pulling my cock even deeper into him. I could feel his
pressing right next to mine, probably leaving sticky prints of my spit and
his precum in the grey fabric, and that made me grind harder against him as
I showed him what else I could give him.

"Goddamn," Coach grunted when he finally pulled back from me, wiping the
spit from his lips with his big paw, his chest heaving a little, staring
hard at me with a lusty look in his eyes. I'd never seen him like this
before, and he was hotter than ever.

"Get naked," he said, as he started yanking up his fraternity sweatshirt
and the T-shirt underneath it, all in one. "Both of you."

"Yes Coach," Brady and me said together, like we all did in practice, and
we grinned at each other as we started tugging our own sweatshirts off.

While Coach P was kicking his boots off and stepping out of the jeans and
underwear all bunched up around his ankles, Brady hooked his fingers in the
waistband of my sweats and tugged me closer to him. I met his grinning,
open mouth halfway, and we collided in another hot, lusty brokiss, as he
pushed my sweats down and I worked on his. I palmed the big bulge in his
UAs as he grunted into my mouth and gave my jocked ass a solid smack that
echoed off the metal lockers around us. Shit, I couldn't believe we were
doing this, right here in our high school's locker room, and even crazier
than that, with Coach P watching us, big and naked and fucking boned as
hell, staring at us almost like he couldn't believe we were real. His
former best wrestler and his current one, two jock brothers making out all
hungry and sloppy as we felt each other up. For each other's benefit, sure,
but more than that, for him. I was starting to wonder whose special gift
this was - mine or Coach's.

Brady took his hand off one of my glutes, reached over for Coach's forearm,
and tugged him to us, and then we were three. I felt Coach's hand stroking
over my ass, over the high, hard curve of it, slowly up and down. I felt
him nudge me even closer to my brother, his big hand roaming over the top
of my ass to cup my other cheek, giving me a deep feel-up. There was a lot
behind his gesture, I could tell. I might have been a high school kid, but
I wasn't dumb. I'd been studying other dudes up close and personal for a
while now, and I knew what all this meant to Coach. I was forbidden fruit,
not to be handled this way, especially not by him. Forbidden, and not his
first taste, as I pieced together the story between him and Brady in those
hot, intense moments, right before Coach's rugged, bearded face leaned in
and kissed first my bare shoulder, then my brother's, and then nudged into
our kiss, joining us.

It was such a fucking trip, getting to feel Coach's thick, powerful ex-jock
body up, watching him and my stud big brother trade tongues with easy, sexy
familiarity. Even more to press my lips and my tongue to the warm, musky
bulk of the big guy, the man who'd guided me these past few years as I got
bigger, stronger, faster, better. With the other man who'd done the same
for me, but in a whole different way. One on the mats, the other on the
bed. My Coach and my big brother. I'd never been so fuckin' hard in my
whole young life.

Coach P pushed my arm up and buried his flushed face in my pit, inhaling
deeply with an approving grunt.

"Damn, you smell good, kid," he growled, and I shivered as I felt the flesh
of his tongue on my skin, on the hair, lapping at my teen jock's sweat.

"I told him not to wear deodorant," Brady said. "Just like you like, right
Coach?"

Coach came up out of my pit to shoot him a look, a mix of guilt and
sternness in it, but Brady just grinned at him, reached up for the back of
his head and pushed his face right back into my pit. I was kinda shocked at
the easy, confident way Brady just took control of the big man like that,
but Coach's big mitts moving all over my body and his big tongue lapping at
my pit took my mind right off that.

"Fuckin' jock stud," Coach growled, his hand palming the big bulge in my
jock as he did, making me leak more for him. "Hot jock kid like your
brother. Fuckin' big-dicked Barrett boys. Jesus..."

I took a page out of Brady's book and took the initiative, taking hold of
Coach's strong, bearded jaw and feeding him my tongue, making him growl all
lustily as he felt me up on both sides, front and back. My cock throbbed
through my jock in one of his hands, while I flexed up my glute in the
other, and he kissed me back like a hungry beast.

"Matty thought he was coming here to show you how good he can suck cock,"
Brady said as he pressed himself up against Coach's naked bulk, nuzzling
the man's ear. "But there's something you want to show him too, right
Coach?"

Coach moaned into my mouth, his left hand working my throbbing jocked
cockbulge over even more intently, and I started to get the picture. My
stomach tightened up as my brain said, "No fuckin' way!"

"Fuckin' big-dicked Barrett boys," Coach half-moaned again when our tongues
untangled, his big mitt digging inside the waistband of my Bike, down into
the humid mesh pouch, full of high school senior cock and the precum
flowing from it. I grunted as he wrapped his strong, rough paw around my
shaft and felt me throb for him, as I stared into his hungry eyes. Past his
shoulder, Brady was grinning at me, all handsome and knowing, the same
expression he'd had the first time I dropped to my knees and reached for
his big teen dick. The kind of guy who knew what was up, in all kinds of
ways. The kind of guy I'd always wanted to be. The kind of guy it seemed
like I was becoming, the older I got.

"Fuck it," Coach growled, wrist-deep in my jock pouch, manhandling my big
young cock. "Come this far... might as well keep going."

I looked between his face and Brady's. They knew what was coming, and I
guess on some level, I did too. Coach extracted his hand a little
reluctantly from the depths of my jock, my cock already missing his expert
handwork.

"I want you to fuck me, Barrett," Coach said, his voice husky and deep and
manly as fuck. I almost couldn't believe it, but Brady was nodding behind
him, his grin big and excited. "Like your brother used to. Think you can do
that for your Coach?"

"Used to?" Brady smirked, leaning in to bite gently down on Coach's
powerful delt, his hands sliding over Coach's beefy, blond-furred pecs as
he snaked his arms around the man, feeling him up, winking at me as he did,
and I moaned despite myself.

"Yeah, Coach," I heard myself saying before I knew I was doing it. "Yeah, I
can do that for you."

Brady gave me a little frown, nodding at me, encouraging me to go a little
further, and my mouth kept on going before my brain could catch up.

"Yeah, I can fuck you, Coach," I said, hearing that husky, manly new edge
to my voice, and loving how it sounded. Seemed like it fit me real well,
like my singlet did. "I'm *gonna* fuck you, Coach P. Fuck you like a
Barrett boy can."

"Fuck, I knew you could, you hot, big-dicked little fucker," Coach growled,
before kissing me hungrily again, and hell, I guess he was about to find
out. I guess we all were.

-- To be continued... --