Date: Wed, 11 Mar 2020 03:07:38 +0000 (UTC)
From: Danny Smith <danny26149@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Coach and the Kid

The Coach and the Kid (part one)
By Danny Smith

	I was always a smart kid. My folks started me in school a year
early, then I skipped second grade. In the sixth grade I skipped again,
same thing in ninth. By the time I was a senior in high school I was 13
while everyone around me was 17 or 18. It was both good and bad. Sometimes
I felt kind of lonely because everyone in my class wasn't my age. On the
other hand, I was surrounded by a lot of good looking, horny, high school
boys. For a guy like me, that was pretty cool.

	The school gave me a waiver from sports -- it was obvious I
wouldn't have fit in being so young -- but the coach found a way for me to
contribute to the team and still get credit for PE. He made me the
"manager" of the football and basketball teams. That meant I was in charge
of the sports equipment, cleaned up the locker rooms, and generally made
myself useful. It gave me a chance to be around a lot of naked guys and I
loved it.

	The coach was especially great. He was a really good looking man,
probably in his late 30s. He took an interest in all his boys, but
especially in me for some reason. Guess he really wanted me to feel like I
was accepted, even though I was so much younger than everyone else.  The
day he came on to me was the one of the best days of my life.

	It was after school on a Friday, probably about 6:30. It was winter
so it was already dark out. The basketball team had finished their
practice. All the guys had gone home, and coach and I had the gym to
ourselves. He asked me if I wanted to shoot some hoops. I said, "sure," and
we played a little one-on-one. I loved brushing up against him. He was
strong and muscular with hairy arms and legs. I wondered what his chest
looked like. He had dark hair but green eyes, and when he sweat he kind of
glowed. I was pretty much the opposite: skinny, wiry, smooth and blond.

	After about a half-hour he said "We need to knock off. Let's shower
up and get out of here."

	Walking down to the locker room it just occurred to me that we were
going to be alone together, coach and me, not just in the locker room but
in the showers. Together. Naked. I pushed the thought from my mind because
it was giving me a hard-on and I didn't want to embarrass myself in front
of him.

	When we got to the lockers, coach immediately started to strip.  I
tried to look away and be cool, but I couldn't help but steal a glance his
way. Awesome!  His chest was everything I hoped it would be, and more. It
was covered with thick, black fur. His nipples were gorgeous, about the
size of quarters, and I found myself staring at them. They seemed like eyes
looking at me. I wanted to run my fingers through his thick chest hair, and
for some reason I found myself wanting to kiss his tits. I was feeling
light headed and short of breath.

	Coach noticed what was happening to me, but didn't say anything. He
just slowed down what he was doing. Slowly he stripped off his sweatpants,
then even more slowly, his jock. He tossed it at my feet. I didn't try to
hide the fact that I was staring at him, drinking in his beautiful body. He
stood there naked, except for his tennis shoes and gym socks, then slowly
placed one foot on the bench and untied one shoe, then the other.

	All this time he had been staring straight at me, just as I was
staring at his body. My erection throbbed in my pants and I felt like the
room was spinning. He walked slowly over toward me. I watched, mesmerized,
as his beautiful wiener swung from side to side, his balls hanging even
lower. His cock was thick around, long and cut, with a thick bush of black
pubes filling out his crotch. He was the most manly stud I had ever seen.

	He stood beside me for a long minute, then put his hand on my head,
and said "Anytime you're ready, kid."

	Dazed I just looked up at him and said "huh?"

	He smiled as his eyes locked with mine. Then he glanced up toward
the showers and said, "To wash up. We need to get going or your folks will
wonder where you are."

	With that he walked into the showers and I got a glimpse of the
back of his magnificent body. It was only when I heard the water running
that I broke my trance. I pulled off my clothes fast, dumped them on the
floor and headed over to the shower. I was still sporting about 90% of a
boner and didn't want to be too obvious, so I peeked in before entering and
waited until his back was turned to join.

	We washed up for a few minutes, each taking stealthy glances at the
other. I didn't know it then, but he wanted me as badly as I wanted
him. After a couple of minutes he asked, "Can you do me a favor?"

	"S-sure, coach. . . what is it?"  I managed to stammer.

	"Can you just help me wash that middle part of my back where it's
hard to reach?"  Then a long pause, followed by, "I'll do the same for you
if you want."

	I didn't know what to say, so I just stared, speechless. Wordlessly
he handed me the soap, then turned away from me and put his hands on the
wall of the shower. He was a lot taller than me and I couldn't reach him
easily without stretching. "Can you bend down a little," I asked. When he
did his ass touched my rock hard pecker. There was no use hiding what was
going on anymore. This was sexual.

	He turned around and looked me straight in the eyes. "You're
getting turned on, aren't you."  It was a statement, not a question.

	What could I say?  I didn't know so I didn't say anything at first.

"Aren't you?" he asked again.

	My voice caught in my throat, but I managed to whisper, "yes."

	He turned around slowly, his cock sticking straight out from his
body. I stared at it openly, my heart pounding hard. He stared at my eyes,
which were locked on his throbbing dick, and said softly, his deep voice
meant only for me, "Do you want to touch it?"

	I looked up into his eyes, then back down at his massive penis. It
seemed even thicker than before, standing out from his thighs just a
little. He was getting harder.

	"Go ahead. Play with it."

	I reached out my hand, trying not to tremble. I touched his dick!
Then I held it in the palm of my hand, gauging the weight and heft of
it. It seemed hot somehow, soft yet hard at the same time. Never before had
I been close to this much manliness and it was almost overpowering.

	"Do you want to kiss it?"

	I drew in my breath. What was he saying?  How could he read my mind
like that?  That's exactly what I wanted to do!

	"Go ahead, kiss it."

	I bent over, touched my lips to his rod and kissed. Then I kissed
again. And again.

	He put his hand on the top of my head and said softly but firmly,
in that commanding way that Coach had -- the voice that made all his boys
want to do what he said -- "get down on your knees."

	I obeyed. It was easier to kiss him down there now, and not just
his cock but the hairy sack that swung so low. His balls were big and I
kissed each of them in turn, then went back to worshiping his cock.

	His next order was the most important one I had heard up to that
moment in my life. It was, "Open your mouth."  Maybe if I had resisted, or
if someone had interrupted us, my life might be . . . nah, I'd still be the
cocksucker I am today. But this was it . . . the magical moment that has
happened so many times across the ages . . . that moment when a young boy
kneels before a strong man, each one longing for the pleasure that
cocksucking will bring to them both.

	I opened my mouth as he ordered, and allowed him to slip the head
past my lips. "Now suck on it," he commanded. Again I obeyed, willingly
giving myself up to the idea of pleasuring him. The head filled my mouth in
a satisfying way, like nothing else I had ever done. Not even jacking
myself off, which I did nightly, was as wonderful a feeling as having that
huge cockhead inside my mouth.

	He fed me another inch of the shaft, then paused to let my senses
adjust. When he knew I was ready, he put his big hands on each side of my
face, holding my head firmly in place, and fed me another inch. By now the
head was nearing the entrance to my throat. I could still breathe, but with
difficulty. I wasn't gagging, but felt I was close. His hands were covering
my ears, but I could still hear him say, "Do you want more?"

	As best I could I nodded my head. Ever the coach, he explained to
me what would happen next: "I'm going to give you another inch. It will
make you gag. Don't worry about that. Nothing bad will happen. Just relax
your throat and let me stick it all the way down. I'll just keep it there
for a couple of seconds, just long enough for you feel the way it's
supposed to feel. Then I'll pull out. Okay?"  "Mmph," was about all I could
muster at that point. But he understood.

	He did it. I remember that awesome sensation so well. There was the
throat-opening shove, followed by a gagging sensation, but there was more
that I hadn't counted on: the feel of his pubic hairs on my lips and nose;
the sensation of his ballsack hitting my chin; the tight grip of his hands
on my head. I was being used by this stud, and I loved it.

	True to his word, he only impaled me for a couple of seconds. When
he pulled out I gasped for air like a swimmer breaking the surface. "You
okay?" he asked. I couldn't speak, but I looked up into his eyes and nodded
my head.

	"I'm close," he said.

	I knew what that meant, and what he wanted me to do without his
having to say it. I just nodded my head again.

	"You're sure?" he asked.

	For a reply I opened my mouth wide, engulfed his cockhead and tried
my best to deep throat him.

	"Whoa, tiger, you'll get what you want. Just relax, open up, and
wait."

	He started slowly stroking his massive meat, as I waited with my
mouth wide open. With one hand he continued jacking; then he put the other
on the back of my head, moving me closer to him until my lips were touching
his dickhead. He continued to hold my head, literally jacking off into my
mouth, knowing it would be my first taste of cum, and knowing I wanted it
bad.

	Then it happened. His sperm ejaculated into my mouth, so forcefully
it hit the back of my throat. I had no choice but to swallow the first
three spurts. The next two were slightly less forceful and ended up in my
mouth, filling it with his rich creamy manjuice. He wasn't done, but I had
to swallow again. Still his cock shot jism into my waiting mouth, and still
I took it.

	When he was finally through with me he slumped against the wall of
the shower, spent. His mighty cock was easing down into softness again, his
body, previously tense, was relaxed. He took a minute to catch his breath,
then seemed to remember that I was still kneeling in front of him. He
caught me up under each armpit, pulling me to my feet. He hugged me close
to his hairy body and whispered in my ear: "Skipper. That was so good. So
good."

	I didn't know what to say, so I said what was in my young heart: "I
love you coach."

To be continued . . .