Date: Thu, 13 Nov 2008 01:14:58 +0000
From: jamie carmichael <littlejohn302@googlemail.com>
Subject: My Wrestling Coach is a porn star!

Disclaimer: The rights to 'Grunts: Misconduct' belong to Raging Stallion
Studios and Chris Ward. No copyright infringement is intended. The author
does not give permission for any reader to distribute this work for profit
purposes.

This is a fictitious story regarding an adult male in authroity position
with a minor. If you find such material offensive, stop reading now and
turn back.

I have never met gay porn star Jake Deckard, and do not have any insider
information on his sexual preferences or his opinions on sex with minors.
No offence is meant.

Author's Note: Since Jake Deckard lives in the USA, I wrote the story from
the perspective of an American teenage high school freshman. However, I am
not American, and have only a passing knowledge of the US education system
and how sports are organised in schools, so please forgive me any factual
errors, and feel free to pick me up on them.

My Wrestling Coach is a porn star!

I'd known I was gay almost from day one. Well, maybe not quite that early
on, but definitely at what would be considered a young age. By time I was
born, it was fairly common for the word 'gay' to be thrown around on
daytime television for any 'innocent' little children to hear. Bet the
Family Values assholes were shitting themselves with righteous anger!

There was also the internet of course, and once I'd heard the word gay, got
curious and typed it into Wikipedia and found out exactly what it meant in
glorified wiki-detail, I knew that was me!

I don't think parents really get how quickly young children can learn the
internet; my folks certainly didn't, or if they did, they didn't do much
about it, because it was easy as pie for me to get access to all sorts of
shit; pictures, audio clips, video clips, etc., and mom and dad didn't seem
to have a clue! I guess parents just don't want to think about the
possibilities that their little angels could possibly get aroused by porn.

Well, 'little angel' I was not! By time I was just ten years old, I must've
looked at over five thousand pics of guys making out, sucking cock, fuckin'
ass, and not just that 'vanilla' shit! I saw guys drinking piss, eating
ass, guys taking fucking HUGE dildos up themselves -- I mean HUGE, HUGE,
HUGE! Literally, like horses! Teachers never taught us shit like that in
biology, that humans intestines can take THAT much punishment! - guys
fisting each other, guys actually getting fucked by real horses, guys
getting fucked by two guys at once... Tell you what, by time I got to
Junior High, I was one dirty minded little 12 year old pervert!

First time I'd found out what 'gay' meant, I'd been idolising over the
'big' boys, the Fifth Grade guys, but now I'd been there, passed it, had
still felt like a little boy. But when I got to Junior High, well, what
wonders awaited me there.

Football, Baseball, Rugby, Wrestling... It was like I'd died and gone to
jockstrap heaven! I had been fairly athletic -- well, I wasn't one of those
200lbs fat ten-year-olds you see on the news -- throughout most of my late
preteens, and that gave me a perfect excuse to hang around all that Middle
school teen muscle! I signed up for football as soon as I was allowed.

I had a more or less fun tryout period, laughing and goofing around with
all these other cute athletic kids, but it became fairly obvious fairly
quickly that I sucked royally at football.

I looked at baseball, but -- this may sound conceited -- I liked my face,
and I didn't like the idea of a solid ball flying at me at those kinds of
speeds, whether I was wearing a helmet or not!

So I tried wrestling, and there I struck gold. I made the team as a
lightweight, and moved up from there over the years.

I had more or less decent grades, so when I got to Senior High, while not a
'model' student, I was in a good place.

Now, I don't know how it happens elsewhere, but in our town the Junior High
and Senior High school are separated. That sounds wrong -- they were in
different places in the town. So when I got to the wrestling team in my
Freshman year, we had a totally different team coach.

Now, I hadn't heard much about this guy, except that he was fairly new, and
he wasn't bad at his job. But when I showed up, the guy I saw there
couldn't have been a day over 40, pretty decent muscular build, receding
hairline that he seemed to keep shaved almost to zero, but fuck me if this
guy wasn't intimidating! By this point I was about 5'10", and about 170lbs,
but this guy had about an inch on me, and possibly about ten fifteen
pounds! Not that I was too intimidated by that -- I'd seen taller guys than
me, in abundance -- but this guy had the most piercingly blue set of eyes
I'd ever seen, and his natural expression seemed to be half-scowl. Add to
that a damn sexy thick goatee, and you have a guy that scared the shit out
of me. But fuck me if he didn't look familiar...

Turned out he was called Mr. Zorax, and he wasn't the mean fucker I
expected him to be. He tough, sure, but that was expected. He treated us
like humans, and not like victory machines for a pot bellied bitter old man
way past his best. He watched intently as we wrestled on the mats, giving
sound advice on manoeuvres and stance, and scowling at those who kept
getting it wrong. He had this deep baritone voice, and I kept feeling my 14
year old dick plumping up on me in my singlet every time he said a word. I
was wearing a jock underneath so it wasn't a disaster, but dare I say I've
got a fairly nice 7 inches down there, and it tended to show, no matter
what I was wearing.

Well, I got down to business, made the team, and dealt with my casual
interest it my wrestling coach like I did all my teenage crushes; I looked,
but kept my hands off. We had a pretty good first few months, our team
winning a number of local championships, and there was talk of going
beyond!

It kept hitting me though, every now and then, the feeling that I'd seen
Mr. Zorax somewhere before. It would have made sense if he'd been around
for a few years, as I probably would have seen him around the town, but he
had only been there from three months before the end of the previous
semester before summer, and if I'd seen him in that time I KNOW I'd
remember! I kept getting the feeling I'd seen him on TV somewhere.

It wasn't until January that I got it.

A few months previously, I'd discovered the wonderful world of online
'torrents', large files that you can download with special, usually free,
programmes. I don't need to tell you of the huge amount of porn I
downloaded by this method!

There was an army base nearby our town (I won't say which, just to annoy
you!), and I'd read enough stories online to get the impression that
soldiers were a raunchy nasty bunch when it came to mansex! Needless to
say, I developed a liking for seeing big rugged guys in army cammos in all
sorts of 'situations'. My favourite was the one where the army boys fuck
the sailor through the bars of a jail cell! Wish I could find that again!

But a few months into this fantastic business of torrent downloading,
giving me access to more gay porn that I'd had in my long gay life, I
discovered a the greatest repository of nasty, heavy sweating rutting,
stamina driven army pigs I'd ever seen; Raging Stallion Studio's 'Grunts:
Misconduct'. Simple as that. If you haven't seen it, I don't know how you
can call yourself gay, which I'm assuming you are, given that you're
reading this GAY story.

Anyway, it took me a good three weeks to get this downloaded, given that it
was about 900 megabytes, and my parent's broadband connection is crap. But
when I finally discovered that it had fully downloaded, I was almost scared
to watch, in case it dissapointed.

It didn't, but I won't go into that.

I hadn't been watching the opening credits; lots of young muscular, and I
might say pretty convincing army grunts fucking, sucking and shooting in
quick succession -- for more than a minute, when I suddenly paused it. That
sergeant looked damned familiar!

I played it again, and about five seconds later, there he was again, which
a huge cigar in his mouth, not so easy to see this time, as he was wearing
a hat and it was dark, but it was the eyes, the piercing blue eyes...

As I skipped through the two and half hour long grunt fest, he popped up
again and again, dressed in a tight green army t-shirt and cammos, often
with no shirt at all. The same eyes, the same shaved head, a moustache
instead of a goatee, but the same build, the same furry chest, even the
same tattoos! It had to be him! Mr Zorax, my hard-staring wrestling coach,
was a gay porn star!

I watched the movie all the way through again and again. I had a PC in my
room by then, so it wasn't much of a problem. No, it was definitely him! I
looked at the credits after the third time, and they named the brutal, hard
fuckin' army sergeant 'Jake Deckard'.

	"Hey Bobby," I asked on of my buddies the next Monday during recess
"Any idea what Coach's first name is?"

	"What, coach Zorax?" Bobby responded thickly; he was a bit of a
dumb shit "Dunno, buddy, Jake I think..."

I was convinced at that moment. Jake Zorax, Jake Deckard. There was no
possibility of a coincidence. At nearly 15 years old, when most of my
buddies were already screwing as many girls as they could get their cocks
around, I was still a total virgin, a torturous experience given that I'd
known exactly what I wanted up my ass for at least nine years, maybe
more. This might be my chance! I was no muscle mary -- I had a leanish
build, but I was strong and wiry with tight little muscles. I was
constantly getting hit on by girls, so I knew I was hot, and what's more,
I'd found Bobby's mom's 7 inch pink dildo under her bed a few months back
at his house. Knowing his mom would never admit to having a sex toy,
especially not to her fundamentalist Christian husband, which she would
have to do if she asked where it was, I took it home with me, and, after a
quick boiling and disinfectant to get any of Bobby's mom's pussy juices off
it (or worse), it had been up my ass for at least an hour or two every
night for the last six weeks. Doesn't seem like long, but if you work your
ass that much, you do learn a little bit of muscle control, and I was
fifteen, so I was probably over-confident, but what do I care now. I was
sure that, if I did it right, I could get Mr Zorax, or Mr 'Deckard' it
seemed better to call him (Zorax was a weird name), to fuck me without too
much trouble.

Overconfident I may have been, but it still took me two weeks to get up the
courage, but I eventually did it.

A Friday seemed best, as everybody's in a good mood at the end of a long
Friday, especially at a school, and there was less chance of him being
busy. I knew where Mr Zorax lived, because we'd been to his house before,
the whole team, and it wasn't far from the school, so it was easy to get
there from my house.

I changed out of my school clothes, and got into my cool ripped faded
jeans, and my tight red t-shirt that showed of my lean body great, and,
throwing a quick excuse to my mom, I was off.

Ten minutes later I was at Zorax's house, and had knocked on the door
twice, with no answer. I was worried that I'd got the wrong house after
all, but I was certain, so I sat my ass down on the steps and waited.

Not for long. Five minutes later coach's beat up form pulled up, and out
got the man himself. He was whistling to himself, and I took that as a a
good sign.

	"Colt!" He exclaimed, taken aback as he saw me on his doorstep
"What're you doing here?"

	"I just need to talk about something, coach. Probably won't take
long." I said in my most innocent voice. He still looked taken aback, but
then nodded, and moved past me to open the door.

	"Er...Could you just stay here a sec, Buddy," he said, and I
thought I heard a nervous twinge in his deep voice "Just need to get things
straight in there."

I smiled and nodded, and he proceeded to the living room, naturally
assuming that I would just sit still in the foyer like he'd asked. But like
I said, little angel I was not! The moment I heard him moving stuff around
in there, I crept towards the door, and slowly peered around it. Coach had
his back to me, on the floor on one knee, giving me a fantastic view of his
sculpted ass through his rough jeans. It was obvious immediately that he
was pushing DVD cases under the couch, and he'd only do that if it was
stuff he didn't want me to know about. I grinned to myself and went back to
sit on the first stair, while I heard him stashing his gay porn away where
he thought I wouldn't find it.

	"Right, Colt," he said when he'd done 'cleaning up' and let me in,
me sitting on the couch, him sitting on a chair across from me "What's
bothering you, buddy?"

	"Well, I was wonderin' where you learned your coaching skills,
sir," I started, feeling cockier by the minute "Wonderin' if yout larned it
in the army?"

	"Army?" He looked puzzled "I was never in the army, kid!"

	"Really?" I did my best to sound taken aback myself "Well,
obviously you aren't any more. Something about some sort of misconduct,
somebody said to me..."

I felt like bursting out laughing at the momentary look of shock that
slashes across his face, his eyes widening in horror, but then he composed
himself.

	"No, kid, I was never a soldier." he laughed, trying to sound
casual, but he wasn't fooling me.

	"You sure, coach?" I pressed "I can just picture you, cammos, hat,
big moustache, with all them disobedient grunts; 'Private, I bet you don't
like pussy very much do you? You just like dick!'" I acted, quoting from
the movie, and giving him a quick smile.

He didn't move or say anything for what seemed like ages, just sat totally
still, stony faced, looking dead at me.

	"What do you want from me, kid?" I couldn't tell if it was fear or
rage in his voice but it was way too quiet to be safe. I almost had second
thoughts. Nah, you're right, I didn't!

	"Well, I just wanted to say that I read somewhere that a coach
should treat his team like an army troop, sir," I continued, looking right
back at him "Especially if they've been playing dirty."

His eyes narrowed. I carried on.

	"Just wanted wanted to say that, maybe you should treat us like you
treated those grunts, sir."

'Us' meaning 'me' of course, and he knew it. I saw a ghost of amusement
flick in his eyes, but his expression didn't change.

	"How long have you known about this, kid?" he asked, still in that
quiet, dangerous tone "How many others did you tell?"

	"No one coach, why would I have told them?" I smiled properly at
last, cheekily at that.

He frowned at me. He didn't seem to be getting the picture, so I decided
that he needed a clearer message. I got up from the couch, and he stood up
too, quickly.

	"Those grunts were pretty badly behaved, coach, weren't they? I've
seen how they deal with them in the army now. Guess I've been a bit badly
behaved too, right coach?"

And with that, possibly the corniest line I've ever uttered, and hope never
to utter again, I unbuckled my jeans, bent over the arm of the couch, and
pulled them down to just under my ass cheeks, showing him my pink hole. I'd
been using mom's olive oil from the kitchen to lube up the dildo for the
last few weeks, and I'd smeared some in and around my cherry before
leaving, so I was nice and glistening back there.

	"Fu..." I heard coach whisper under his breath and, glancing around
at him, my heart missed a beat as I noticed the hard bulge in his jeans,
and the steely, open mouthed expression he was wearing at the sight of my
boy-hole.

	"What d'you think, coach?" I teased him "Did Trey Casteel look this
good?"

(Trey Casteel, was a guy coach powerfucked in the last scene of
'Misconduct')

Coach didn't make a sound. Then I heard him stride over to me, his big feet
thumping on the hardwood floor. I flinched, thinking he was going to hit
me, but looking around, I saw him get on one knee behind me, and grab a
handful of my ass with his right hand, spreading my cheeks further as the
thumb of his left hand began to tease my crack.

	"Fuck, kid!" I heard him hiss. His face was only an inch or two
from my hole, so I felt it as well. "Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck..."

And with that, I felt his tongue slithering it's merry way up inside me.

	"Ohh!" I yelped, giving an uncontrollable buck as something living
entered my ass for the first time (other than my own fingers, which,
frankly, isn't quite the same).

	"Stay still, fucker!" he ordered, dragging his tongue from my hole
to speak, and then stuffing it back in again, his spit mingling with the
oil up there, pushing it further.

Oh man, I'd watched hundreds of guys get eaten out on video, and I'd
imagined what it might feel like, but this was ecstasy! I felt his big
goatee scratching up against my sensitive ring as his tongue forced it more
and more open, his face buried between by round supple buns, like a horny
teenager with his first deep cleavage.

I won't waste your time with giving you the 'thoughts that were running
through my head', like so many gay stories do. It would be difficult
because I wasn't thinking much, just that this guy had a big tongue, and
that I wished it was bigger. That was until he shoved two of his fingers in
there, and I got a good idea of what the word 'stretched' really meant.

	"Fuck me, boy, you're so fuckin' loose!" he cooed at me, and I
shivered with lust. I couldn't believe I was about to loose my virginity to
Jake Deckard! My first fuck was gonna be a fucking nationally famous porn
star!

	"You're fucking drippin' for me, aren't you?" he chuckled, which I
hadn't expected. He'd always seemed so fucking serious during 'Grunts', but
then he had been a soldier in that, they probably told him not to smile too
much. "Fuck, how old are you, boy?"

	"I'm fifteen next month, sir." I answered obediently.

	"Fourteen years old..." he hissed, and I felt his fat fingers begin
to spread my hole even further "Fuckin' teenager wants coach's dick..."

He suddenly stood up.

	"Get on the floor boy!" he ordered. I hesitated for a second, but
then remembered I'd asked for this, and did as he said, moving off the
coach arm.

	"Wait!" I stopped dead, not looking at him "Get naked for me kid."

I grinned to myself, and started stripping.

	"What are you laughing at?" he barked. I recognised it as a line
from 'Grunts', and wiped the smile off my face immediately.

	"What the fuck are you laughing at, boy?" he continued, and I felt
my dick get rock hard as he turned into full sergeant mode on me "Get your
fucking cloths off, and drop to the floor and give me twenty!"

	Jesus, he was really laying it on! I began pushing my jeans down.

	"Not fast enough, fucker!" he yelled, and in seconds he was on me,
ripping my clothes to shreds with his bare hands, yelling abuse at me as he
destroyed my garments.

	When he had finished, he lay me face down on the floor and got me
in the pushup position, him right on top of me but supporting his own
weight. I could feel the massive rod in his pants poking me in the butt.

	"Now, give me twenty, boy." he said, much more quietly. Obediently,
I lowered myself down, then pushed up again, and the repeated, doing
pushups like some bad army grunt. Coach moved back so that his knees were
astride my hips as I went up and down between his legs. I heard the ominous
sound of a zip coming down, the rustling of denim on skin, and then, as
reached the lowest point of my fifth push, I felt something warm and fleshy
against my juicy hole.

I stopped at once instinctively.

	"Keep going, fucker." he barked "Come on, up!"

So I did, and as I came up, I felt the torturous euphoria of a grown man's
cock breaching my sphincter, and slipping into me, like I'd always dreamed
since I was a little boy. There was a light squelching noise as his shaft
slid along the spit and oil that lined my fuck chute. I felt his fat 8
inches hit my prostate and then grind over it slowly as I came up to my
limit, with only half of him in me.

	"Here we go, fucker!" He snarled at me, and the remaining four
inches of his fat veiny shaft was suddenly slammed into me with all the
power of Jake Deckard's loin muscles behind it.

	"Yaargh!" I yelled, as he forced me all the way open, and as my
mighty fuck master laid himself down on top of me, forcing me all the way
to the floor, where he proceeded to drill me, hard and deep. Slap, slap,
slap, went his thighs against my bare butt.

	"Ahh, fuck, turn over fucker, I wanna see your face as I breed my
first boy!"

I did as I was told, and turned over onto my back as he pulled his
oil-slick dick from me. He grabbed me by the legs, and put them around his
waist, as he slid back inside me all the way. I accepted him easily.

	"Fuck, kid, your ass is made for this!" he rumbled in wonder as his
whole cock slid back into me with no hindrance. "I know quite a few guys
back in LA and Florida who'd like a piece of you! You got any brother's
boy?"

	"Yes sir, one older brother."

	"Yeah I bet he fucks your hungry little ass every single night,
that right, fucker? Bet he slams his cock up inside his little brother
until he dumps his pervy load all up your guts!"

I had a sudden flash of Ralph, my big brother, who was fairly fat from
beer-guzzling at college, but pretty hot and bulky nonetheless, ramming his
fat cock into my brotherly ass as I lay prostrate on my back gazing up at
him as he grunted and sweated and blurted his cumload deep into my begging
chute...

Then the flash ended, and instead of Ralph, there was Jake Deckard gazing
down at me as he power drilled me, pleasure burning through me on every
instroke, his eyes feeling like they were burning mine with that
fire-filled glare.

	"Oh FUCK Sarge!" I burst out subconsciously.

There was a deep throated growl, that rose into a roar as he reared up,
grabbing me under the arms so that I stayed firmly stuck on his cock, and
bodily hoisted himself, and me, to his his feet, whereupon he spread his
legs wide, and began slamming me, harder and faster than before, four or
five times a second, like a steam engine.

	"Get my shirt open kid."

I used what little mental power I had left to unbutton his red plaid shirt,
under which was a white wifebeater, the one he usually wore while coaching.

	"Hold on around my neck!" he snapped, and I did. He stopped
slamming, reducing his movements only to bucking himself into me, reached
up to his chest, and tore the wifebeater in half down the front.

	"Holy FUCK!" I yelled, as he reached up and buried my face in the
thick chest hair between his deep pecs, while one of my hands came up and
began twisting and tugging at his nipple.

	"Yeah, do that fucker while you snort up my sweat, fuck...fuck
yeah! Fu...Fuck yeah!" He began to whine almost desperately as his voice
got higher and his face screwed up "Fucking tug on my tits while I breed
your ass! Fuck, fuck, fuck, here it fucking comes, little fucker!"

I didn't feel anything in particular, just his cock jerking around inside
me, but the sheer fact that he was messing up my guts with his testosterone
laden spunk pushed over the top as well, and I blew my thick boyload all up
his furry belly as he watched, still grimacing in orgasm.

After a few minutes of grunting and panting that was him recovering, he
carried me over to the sofa, dropped me down on it, and then dropped down
on top of me, his big tongue entering my mouth without much ceremony in my
first very wet and sloppy kiss with a man.

We lay there for a while, before he got hard being pressed up against me,
and fucked me again, though this time, he dropped his load in my throat. I
couldn't get the whole thing down, so I just sucked and played with the
head and first couple of inches of shaft until I brought him off, jerking
and swearing, almost crushing my skull between his hands.

That was my first encounter with coach Decker, as I took to calling him in
private. It certainly wasn't the last. I might tell you about it. Or I
might not. Just to let you stew over that. If you want any pictures of my
super stud coach, he seems to be the only Jake Deckard around, so Google
shouldn't give you any trouble. Hope you enjoyed!

Colt

-

Thanks for reading this, hope you enjoyed it. If you send me emails telling
me you liked it, I'll see about writing a sequel. If I get few or no
emails, I'll assume you didn't like it and I won't write another
one. Simple as.

Thanks again for reading!

J.

littlejohn302@googlemail.com