Date: Sun, 24 Sep 2017 19:20:56 -0700
From: Dick Jacker <jackinbear01@gmail.com>
Subject: The Training Team 1

The Training Team
Part 1
Byjackinbear01@gmail.com

This story is fictional. Any resemblance to any person, living or
dead, is purely coincidental. It is meant for adults only. It involves
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***** ***** *****
My name is Chris Connelly. I was raised around wealth and privilege.
From my birth until this very moment, I have wanted for nothing, and I
know without a doubt it will be that way until I draw my last breath.
Whatever I desired, no matter how extravagant or mundane, it was mine.
I was never taught the value of honest manual labor; only the means to
manipulate others to do my bidding. I cared nothing for those who
served me, except that their sole purpose, their solitary goal was my
comfort and satisfaction. As each year of my life passed, I could
clearly see how much power and influence my family, and I, as the only
child, could wield. I was in a position to be one of the 10 wealthiest
men in the world.
 I heard this mantra over and over...
`One day, this will all be yours.'
The problem was, I didn't want any of it.
I was miserable.
My parents were CEO's of immense financial and real estate empires.
They bought and sold companies, buildings, factories, and the people
working in them like kids trading baseball cards. Their marriage was
nothing more than a merger, combining their wealth into a fortress
before other powerful business dynasties could overtake them. My birth
was an assurance that their vast fortunes would continue after they
were nothing but worm food. I was just another stock split, another
acquisition, a subsidiary, a sound business decision. And once the
decision was made, they didn't want to dwell on it or think about it.
They were on to the next big deal. I was just another asset to be
managed by underlings.
So I was raised by a squadron of nannies, and cooks, tutors,
bodyguards and numerous household staff. I was gifted with
intelligence far above average. I was athletic, handsome, and as I
matured, I learned to be charming, witty, and friendly. But within my
mind, and deep within my spirit, there was something my parents, and
the corporations, the boards of directors and the vast fortunes that
swirled around them like satellites had never considered.
I was gay.
I had noticed it when I had just begun puberty. There were plenty of
women around our estate, of various sizes, nationalities and ages.
Most were pleasant enough, and some I even came to enjoy spending time
with. But as far as the six or seven young girls (family members of
some of the staff), they never stirred any desire in me. It was the
male members of the staff that began to draw my attention. Gardeners,
handymen, and mechanics, as well as the imposing, intimidating
security staff who were vigilant and devoted to my personal safety.
But the men who I became most obsessed with were the trainers. Three
men, all superior instructors in their specific disciplines, who were
hired to push me to my physical limits, guiding me and encouraging me.
Their job was to help me sculpt my maturing body into a handsome,
confident, muscular and masculine form. I enjoyed the time I spent
with them. They were merciless at times, but generous with praise when
I reached or exceeded their goals. All three men lived together in one
of the dozen or so modest homes that formed a makeshift community on
the northern part of our property. Most of the staff lived in these
simple homes, so they could be available at any time, day or night.
The trainers sparked my imagination, and fired up my libido.
Sergei was Russian. He was mostly in charge of my weight training. He
stood just less than 6 feet tall. His dark hair was clipped close to
his skull, but he wore a thick beard that extended to the middle of
his broad, muscular chest. His torso was rounded, the muscles thick
and hard, but not defined. His upper body was covered in coarse black
hair, and his thick eyebrows met in the middle. His voice was deep,
his accent thick and his gaze was intense and intimidating. But when I
gave that extra effort and lifted more than I thought I could, his
eyes sparkled and his smile gleamed from the thick forest of his
beard. When he was pleased with my progress, he would pull me into his
hairy muscular sweaty embrace, kissing both sides of my face. His
beard brushing across my face sent shivers over my body. I loved the
feeling of his immense arms wrapped around me, my head pressed against
his firm pecs. I returned his hug, but my arms weren't nearly long
enough to reach all the way around. He would hold me tight against
him, sometimes gently swaying back and forth, and sometimes I could
hear him quietly murmur something in Russian as his massive paw began
to stroke my hair. It didn't take long before my body began reacting
to his embrace, and I was aware of my erection which was close to
pushing against Sergei's massive thighs. I would pull away from him,
and try and make it to the locker room and the showers without
revealing the obvious tent pushing out from the front of my sweats.
Matthew was my gymnastics and running coach.  He was from some small
city in the northeastern part of Australia. He had competed in the
2004 Olympics in Athens, and had won 2 silver medals and one gold
medal in the individual competition.  He was only 5'6", but he
dispelled any doubts of his abilities after our first workout
together. Before we ended our first session together, he gave me a
quick performance of his medal winning routine on the rings. He was
wearing nothing but his snug dark red nylon shorts, which were already
soaked with sweat and pasted against his thighs and his ass. I got a
mesmerizing view of all his muscles as they bunched and flexed and
quivered, especially as he held himself perfectly still with his arms
straight down and his legs at a ninety degree angle. Then he swung,
fully extended, and let go of the rings. I saw a flash of white cotton
and glimpsed his jockstrap as it sailed overhead and then he landed
standing still, the muscles in his legs and arms, as well as the hair
across his thick rounded pecs all glistened with sweat. I couldn't
resist and applauded excitedly. I grabbed a towel from a nearby stack
and handed it to him. He thanked me as he mopped the salty sweat
pouring over his body. I told him I'd give anything to be able to do
something half that good someday.
He chuckled as we walked toward the entrance to the locker room and showers.
`Sorry, kiddo,' he said, patting me on the back. `You want the hard
truth?' I nodded, and he continued, `You've got two major strikes
against you. One, you started too late. I was training in a world
class gymnastics center three days a week when I was eight years old.
And two, you're too freaking tall, mate.' Hearing him call me mate
made me smile and blush, but I was also confused by his assertion that
my height was a detriment.
I objected, saying, `Whaddya mean? I'm only 5'9"."
We were in the locker room, and Matthew pulled an empty gym bag from
his locker. As he stripped off his sodden shorts, socks and his
jockstrap, he stuffed them into the duffel, along with the towel, and
the shirt he wore at the beginning of our session, both of which were
drenched with his sweat within fifteen minutes.
I was rather nervous, seeing Matthew completely naked and not shy
about showing off the muscular perfection of his body, which was the
reward of his lifelong commitment. He grabbed a bottle of body wash
and padded toward the large open shower area, turning one nozzle on
and gasping as the water drenched him. The water temperature rose
quickly and clouds of steam soon obscured my view of him. I quickly
stripped my clothes off and joined Matthew, taking the shower head
next to him.
`Have you seen gymnasts? Professionals? In person? We're like fuckin'
jockeys!' Matt shouted over the sound of the powerful water splashing
against his muscles and the tiled wall and floor, the sound echoing
and reverberating.
`Most of the girls never weigh more than 120 pounds, and most of
that's hard muscle. They won't ever know what it's like to have a
regular set of tits, which is a real shame, cuz most girls in
gymnastics are VERY flexible.' He looked at me through the steam, gave
me a sly smile and a wink and turned toward the spray, chuckling. I
watched his back as his hands moved over his chest and stomach,
building up a thick lather, and then his hand moved down toward his
crotch. I couldn't see too much detail, but his arms were moving up
and down steadily and I heard him moan as he turned his face up to the
strong spray.
`And with the fellas, there's a little more leeway, but I've never
seen an Olympic male gymnast who was taller than 5'6". But we have to
pack a fucking amazing amount of muscle into this size package.' I
looked over as Matthew spun slowly around, the spray from the shower
rinsing the lather off his muscled hairy body. He enjoyed putting his
naked body on display, but I don't think it was just for my benefit. I
nodded appreciatively and he stopped, giving me a slight bow.
He shut off his shower and walked back toward the lockers grabbing a
large towel from a nearby stack. I followed close behind, using my
towel to try and conceal my half hard cock.
`And I wouldn't be surprised if you grow a couple more inches before
you're 18. But don't worry, mate.' Matthew spoke with a more
comforting tone. `The things you'll be learning from me might not get
you a medal at the Olympics, but it'll help you run longer and faster,
and give you better control over your body. And, it'll make you a
fucking legend in the bedroom.' He leaned forward, motioning me to
come closer. He spoke in a more conspiratorial style, sharing secrets
rarely heard by outsiders.
`There's moves I use, and techniques I've practiced, that make the
bitches soak the fucking bedsheets and scream themselves hoarse
because they keep cummin' and cummin' and cummin.' He straightened up
again, rubbing the towel briskly over his body. I caught a glimpse of
his cock and balls, and he was getting hard, no doubt. He caught my
surprised look and chuckled, a little uncomfortable.
`Sorry `bout that, mate.' He said, `Guess I got carried away there a
bit. But hell, it's just us guys here, right? I'll just have to take
care of this later on back at the house.' He tossed the towel across
the bench that ran the length of the locker room between the rows of
lockers. I tried, without success, to avoid looking at it, and my own
dick was reacting, rising up, hard and long, and bobbing up and down.
Matthew saw it, and smiled. I quietly groaned `Oh my god' and turned
away, feeling my face heat up with embarrassment.
`Aw, don't be ashamed, it's a natural reaction. Every man alive has
popped a boner around his buddies. You wanna see how you measure up to
the competition.' Matt peered around, a little dirty smirk playing
across his lips. `And from what I saw, you got a pretty impressive
package. C'mon, let's have a good look then.'
I glanced over my shoulder again, and then turned to face him, tossing
my own towel aside. Matt's eyes got a little wider, and his own thick
meat rose up higher, curving up until it was nearly touching his hairy
navel. He whistled, automatically grabbing his hardon and giving it a
couple of strokes. `That's a show stopper, for sure, man.' I watched
his hand stroke his thick shaft, and I copied the movement,
immediately feeling a shudder through my body as a thick stream of
precum drooled from my piss slit, shimmering before landing on the
tile floor.
`Be careful Chris, or you'll blow your load right here in the locker
room.' He looked quickly around, to make sure we were alone. Then he
leaned closer and said, quietly, `Unless that's what you wanna do.'
I let go of my throbbing dick, looking scared, and said, my voice
shaking, `I...I don't know...I've never...with another guy...' I sat down on
the bench, my legs feeling weak. I continued, my head hung down, `I
think about it all the time. I watch men together on the internet and
I want to do everything they do.' Matt sat down next to me on the
bench. He placed his hand on my leg, and I felt an electric charge
surge through me, making me jump slightly and catching my breath.
`You're 15, right?' He asked. I nodded, adding, `I'll be 16 in September.'
`And your dad's never talked to you about sex?' I just looked at him,
rather sadly.
`I haven't seen my father in person in almost two weeks. The last time
he talked to me was on Skype to ask me what kind of car I wanted for
my birthday.'
Matt continued, `And I don't think he'd be really overjoyed to find
out your gay, either. I assume he's expecting a grandchild or two to
inherit all this.' I slid back away from him, fearful. `Please, please
don't tell him I'm gay!'
Matt said `Don't worry. I honestly don't think it's any of his
business. He's never cared much about your life before. But for now,
it doesn't matter whether you wanna eat pussy or dick. Right now, you
need to learn about how to take care of that beast.' He motioned to my
cock, which was slowly losing its length, but still was impressively
thick. `At your age, your dick's got a mind of its own, right?' I
nodded in frustrated agreement. Matthew's big strong hands were
gripping my thighs, kneading and rubbing them. It kept my cock bobbing
and swaying and releasing a nearly steady stream of clear precum. 'And
you need some real life experience with man on man sex. To make sure
it's what you really want. The stuff on the internet is hot as hell,
sure. But it's usually not like that in the real world. Lots of guys
nowadays are really disappointed and depressed when they find out that
every workout at the gym doesn't end up in a huge orgy.' We both
chuckled, and I felt less nervous and scared about my desires.
I hesitantly asked Matt `Would...would you teach me? I promise nobody
would ever find out, and you're just the kind of man I think about
when I'm jerking off.' I leaned back, balancing on my left arm, while
I pressed my iron hard cock down off my stomach with my thumb, feeling
it smack upright when I let go. I saw Matt's cock begin to rise again,
and he casually rubbed and tugged his balls, then running his hand
across his furry chest, tweaking his nipple. His eyes stayed on my
hard dick as he spoke.
`As tempting as that might be, mate, I think I have a better idea. I
think it would be more...fulfilling if we included your other two
trainers in your...education.'
I looked at him, shocked. `You mean Sergei? And Major Stone?'
Major Phil Stone was a retired Marine who was a superior martial arts
instructor. He was also the eldest of the three trainers, at 47. He
was a black man, with a thick trimmed salt and pepper moustache. It
matched his hair, which he wore in a military style. His body was
heavily muscled, his thick dark pecs covered in the same silver and
black curly hair. We had showered together after our training sessions
and I had seen his dark, thick, formidable looking cock. He demanded
that during our sessions, I call him only Major or Sir. He was
particularly harsh as an instructor, and would never accept any
complaining or defeat. But the few times I received his praise, it
lifted my spirits, and made me more determined to work harder and do
whatever I could to please him.
Matt smiled and said, `Don't worry. They're men you can trust. And,
truth be told, we've been taking care of each other's...physical
needs...since we first moved in here together.' Matt and I began
stroking our dicks in unison as he described the living arrangements
the three trainers were resigned to accept. And how they made the best
out of a bad situation.
Matt explained that when the three trainers arrived, agreeing to live
on the property, the only available housing was a large cabin, meant
to house up to eight men in a single large room, with a large communal
shower. All three men were single, and it didn't take long for them to
become comfortable enough with each other to shower together, hang out
in just their boxers or jocks, or nothing at all. After a few beers
together and a few evenings watching porn and jerking off, they were
ready to take it all the way. All three men lived together, regularly
sucking, fucking and sharing hot loads of cum together. I was amazed
and completely aroused as Matt told me about the other two men and
their sexual appetites. When he was finished, we were straddling the
locker room bench, facing each other, our hard dicks glistening with
precum and saliva.
`I'm close, Matt.' I said, my body dripping with my sweat, my fist
moving faster and faster along the length of my cock. He slid forward
until our legs pressed together. I reached out and pressed my hand on
his furry, sweaty chest. Matt grunted and said, `I'm close too, buddy.
Let's shoot all over each other. Grab my tit, man!' I took his nipple
and gave it a strong tug, as I felt my balls pull up tight to the base
of my throbbing dick. I aimed my cock at his chest as Matt cried out
`FUCK YEAH!' and I saw his dick jump in his hand and a thick white
stream of hot cum sail through the air, landing across my left
shoulder and my upper chest. Two more shots of cum flew out, as Matt
grunted like an animal, and landed across my stomach.
My cock felt like a separate being, bucking and throbbing, my ass
clenching as I released the first volley of cum strong enough to
splash against Matt's face. His tongue automatically emerged, licking
the jizz dripping from his moustache. I watched amazed as I kept
milking my cock, crying out, `Oh God, Oh God!' and watched three more
thick ropes of jizz paint stripes across his stomach and his thigh.
We leaned against each other, our heads resting on each other's
shoulders, as we tried to steady our breathing and slow our racing
hearts.
After a few minutes, we both felt steady enough to stand and head back
for our second shower. We dressed, happy and relaxed. As we left the
training center, I thanked Matt again and told him not to forget to
talk to Sergei and Major Stone about a special `training' weekend for
me.

TO BE CONTINUED...


Dick Jacker