Date: Tue, 5 May 2020 12:46:55 -0400
From: a4f tales <a4ftales@gmail.com>
Subject: "Tales from the Lockdown: Now Or Never"

This story is purely a work of adult erotic fantasy, copyright me 2020. I
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*****

Coach Preston was in a mood. All week long, he'd been a little on edge,
keeping one eye on the regular news, the other on the sports news, waiting
to see which way things would go. All the coaches had been, and like them,
he'd done his best to keep a poker face around his guys, a whole
chin-up-and-keep-pushing thing. They were athletes, after all, and athletes
in a sport that required particular focus. But they were students, too --
hell, they were *people* -- and he knew all the uncertainty around the
virus situation had all kinds of impacts on them. What about spring break,
and the end of the semester beyond that? Would the campus close? What about
classes, and finals, and graduation?

So he'd been feeling the tension, his and his guys', and then everything
started to happen all at once, with surprising speed. The AD announced all
the varsity sports activities were being suspended, and then the
conferences all got canceled, and then just this afternoon, the Chancellor
had put the word out that classes were going online and the campus would
mostly be closing. At least two weeks, probably more, and if everyone was
really being honest, the rest of the semester was pretty much in the
shitter. Which meant his guys were definitely done for the semester, and so
was he, for the most part. No more wrestling, no more coaching, not much
but some administrative bullshit to deal with, and it looked like he'd be
taking care of that from his dining table from now on, from the sounds of
things.

It was a lousy way to end the season. The guys had wrestled decently, but
they hadn't made the DIII Championships this year, so shutting everything
down so early felt like getting kicked in the ass twice. They'd had one
last practice, but it had felt half-hearted, much as he and the other
coaches had tried to keep their spirits up. Nobody had wanted to really say
it, that it was over for this year. Nobody wanted to talk about the bigger
picture either, about what was happening outside their smallish campus, in
their little corner of the world. Instead, everyone seemed more subdued,
inside their heads about everything, and Preston was no different. That
shit was contagious too, and it had finally caught up with him, now that he
was in his little office, packing up everything he'd need to work from home
for who the fuck knew how long.

He wasn't really in the mood for the knock on his door, but he was still on
the job, so he did his best to make his expression neutral as he turned to
see who was interrupting his funk.

"Coach P?"

It was Keene, and shit, that was maybe the last person he needed to see
right now. Yeah, he was glad to see him -- he was always glad to see him,
and maybe that was part of the problem. Keene was one of his better
wrestlers, solid and dependable, disciplined without being a freak about
it, quietly confident in his strengths, but still able to learn. He was a
good teammate and a great student, not just here in the wrestling complex,
but in class too. Preston was sorry to see him go, but then that was the
nature of the job, he guessed. Sooner or later, they all graduated, and
then a new set of guys would come to be trained and molded, and hopefully
sent out into the world stronger and better men. Still, even though he'd
known Keene was one of the ones graduating, he hadn't expected they'd be
parting ways this early.

"Just wanted to drop by and check in with you before, you
know... everything," Keene said with his easy smile, and here was the exact
problem -- the kid was beautiful. He wasn't the handsomest of Preston's
current wrestlers, or the most powerfully built -- that was a tossup
between Halvorson and Washington, probably, and it made him feel a little
guilty every time he thought that to himself, but hell, facts were
facts. He wasn't the first coach to ever think that way, and he sure
wouldn't be the last.

With his regular kind of features and his nondescript haircut, it'd be easy
to look past Keene. But there was a quiet handsomeness to him, and he had a
good strong frame that was solid with lean, tight muscle. He filled out the
Drake U sweatshirt and jeans he was wearing right now very well, and a
singlet even better. Every once in a while, a guy came along who was the
package, and with his regular-guy good looks, his crop of auburn-brown
hair, and his quiet confidence and athletic skill, Keene was definitely
that package. So maybe it was better he was heading off into the next phase
of his life, and out of Preston's. Not right now, maybe, but better in the
long run, for sure. For everyone involved.

"Well, I appreciate it," Preston said, and meant it, as he put down the
file box with all the shit he'd packed to work from home with, and shook
the young man's hand. Nice firm grip, solid and confident, just like the
rest of him. Yeah, Preston was sorry to see him go, alright. "You heading
out?"

"Eh, after the weekend, I guess," Keene shrugged. "Still gotta pack up the
apartment, and I figure since they cancelled classes next week, I'd take my
time."

"Good call," Preston nodded. "Might as well enjoy your last little bit of
normal time before things get weird."

"I'll drink to that," Keene chuckled. "Speaking of that..."

For the first time Preston could remember since the kid's sophomore year,
Keene looked a little bit less than quietly sure of himself, but it passed
quickly.

"I was gonna head to the Grill, get something to eat one last time, maybe
have a beer," Keene went on. "Can I buy you one? Y'know... for old times'
sake?"

Preston smiled to himself. The kid was 22, the hell did he know about "old
times" yet? His Coach mode kicked in a little, automatic, thinking about
fraternizing and how it would look, drinking a beer with one of his
athletes. But it wasn't technically forbidden, he guessed, and Keene was
legal and responsible, and about to pretty much exit his life anyway. Not
really one of his athletes anymore, technically speaking. Plus, these were
strange times, and probably only getting stranger. He thought about how
he'd been feeling since all this shit had started to go down, broody and in
his own head a lot, like big, important things were just slightly beyond
his control. One last beer with a favorite student, a guy he'd come to know
and like and respect, and would miss? Fuck it. He could use the break.

And, if he was truly honest with himself, one more chance to spend a little
time with probably the hottest young man he'd ever encountered.

"Sure, what the hell," Preston said. "Give me thirty, and I'll meet you
over there."

"Awesome," Keene said, "I'll see you there." He genuinely looked a little
excited, which made Preston's cheeks prickle in that way that always made
him feel like he should back off, so he wouldn't get himself in
trouble. But fuck all that, he decided.

"Looking forward to it, bud," he said, and it was the first thing he'd felt
sure of all week.

* * *

Preston had gone into this thinking it'd be just one beer, some kind of
awkward conversation with a student, and then one last stilted goodbye
before the young man headed off to the next part of his life, and Preston
returned to his little house to grow his beer buzz on his own while he
looked at some porn and jerked off.

Or, if he was being honest with himself, think about Keene peeling out of
his singlet, and jerk off.

But instead, he was having a good time. Keene was a good conversationalist,
sharp-witted but easygoing. He had the same kind of quiet confidence out
here as he did on the mat, but now he could let his dry wit show too,
engaging with Preston as a person, not just as a student. Preston wasn't
usually given to talking about himself much, at least not with students, so
he was a little surprised to find himself doing it now, Keene drawing him
out not just about wrestling, but his career, his life growing up back in
Michigan, the things he liked to do now, outside of coaching.

Preston signalled the bartender for a second round without really thinking
about it.

"This one's on me," he said, and Keene smiled and nodded his head just like
he did whenever Preston complimented him after a meet. Modest but genuine.

"Much obliged, Coach," Keene said, and that quiet trace of Carolina drawl
to his voice made Preston's cheeks tingle in that weird little way
again. Probably better to steer the conversation away from himself now. He
was used to keeping himself compartmentalized in certain ways, and this
seemed like a good time to do that, even if this really was probably the
last time he'd see this kid.

'This *man*,' he corrected himself, and that didn't help matters one bit.

The second round went down pretty easy, especially once he'd redirected the
conversation mostly back on Keene, sitting back on his barstool and sipping
steadily as the young man talked about his summer plans, then law school in
the fall, and what he thought might be beyond that for him. By the time
Preston realized he'd drained his glass, he was feeling that nice warm glow
in his belly and a pleasant little buzz in his head.

Shit, it felt good to relax for once. He hadn't realized how uptight he'd
been this past week or so. Longer than that, even, but listening to Keene
talk, watching his handsome face, letting the beer unwind him... yeah, he
was feeling real good. There was that part of his brain that always stayed
alert, on guard against doing anything stupid, but it was quieter
tonight. It let the rest of his mind wander, and his eyes a little with it,
taking in the shape of Keene's broad shoulders, the power in his neck, the
way his sweatshirt hinted at the firm, tight pecs beneath it. The way the
denim clung to his athletic thighs, spread comfortably wide as he
side-saddled his barstool. It was a little weird, talking to somebody fully
clothed, while knowing pretty much exactly how their body looked
underneath. Being able to picture it clearly in your head. Someone you
weren't intimate with, anyway. But then, his was a pretty intimate job, in
its own way. Dangerously so, sometimes.

Like now, listening to Keene talk, picturing in his head the way the young
man's tight, but powerful body shifted under the second skin of his
singlet, how the smooth skin over the twin mound of his pecs gleamed with
sweat after a bout under the bright overhead lights in the gym. Thinking
way in the back of his mind, almost subconsciously, about the tension he'd
felt most of his life, between the part of him that was born to wrestle,
and the part of him that was born to be with another man. How much he'd
come to love those two sides of himself, and how much he hated that tension
between them.

So when Keene noticed Preston's empty glass and held his own mostly empty
one up, eyebrows raised, silently asking the question, he hesitated. Felt
that tension rising again, that ever-present, unwelcome fact of his life.

"What do you say, Coach?" Keene asked, and there was a subtle, easy
looseness to his words now too. "No class tomorrow. And shit, not like I'm
on my training plan anymore..."

He blushed a little at the unguarded curse word, looking for a moment like
the still slightly unsure kid Preston had first met four years ago. "Sorry,
Coach."

"Fuck it, buddy," Preston said, giving Keene's muscle-solid upper arm a
playful smack. "Feels like the world's about to go to shit anyway. We can
live a little, right?" Keene gave him another smile, loose and easy, and
Preston felt his cheeks tingle under his beard even more. But still, he
signalled the bartender again, then excused himself and headed for the
restroom.

'You did a good job with him,' he thought as he stood at the urinal, trying
not to enjoy too much the feel of his cock, pleasantly warm and thick in
his hand. Not that he could take all the credit, of course. Keene had
parents who'd made and raised him, other coaches and teachers along the
way. But it was a special thing, the bond with your coach -- Preston still
felt the ways his coaches had molded him over the years, like muscle
memory. Could still hear their voices in his head, feel their guiding touch
on his skin from time to time. Some more than others. But if he kept
thinking like that right now, he'd get himself in trouble. Best to save it
for later, when he was on his own again, kicked back in the armchair of his
quiet little house, free to let his imagination wander as he slow-stroked
himself. It was definitely shaping up to be that kind of night, and he was
frankly looking forward to it. But he wasn't in any rush to part ways with
Keene just yet, either.

'You know who else has got a nice thick dick...' he thought some more,
flashing on an image of Keene in his handsomely packed singlet, and he felt
his cheeks prickle even more intensely beneath his beard as he grinned
slyly to himself. He needed to watch himself and make this his last round,
that was for sure. He could think about Keene and his big ol' dick some
more later, on his own. Yeah. He was definitely looking forward to that.

Their third round had arrived while he was gone, but Keene had waited for
him to return before he took a sip. That was him all over, good-mannered,
polite and deferential. Preston wondered if he was always like that. He got
to see a lot of guys up close and personal, get to know them on some pretty
deep psychological levels sometimes. He'd been working with Keene for just
about four years, and he knew the guy had plenty of layers to him. Preston
was real interested in those layers, and seeing what was underneath them.

"Well, here's to the untimely end of a weird-ass season," Keene said as
they lifted their beers to each other. "And to who the hell knows what
comes next."

"You'll be fine," Preston said. "No matter what else, I'm pretty sure you
of all people have got this."

Keene smiled that modest but pleased smile at him again, and it was
definitely the beer buzz coming on stronger that made him think it, but god
damn those were some pretty lips on him. Shit. Still, he took another sip,
because fuck it, it was like the kid said -- who the hell knew what came
next? He was kind of tired of trying to game it all out. The rug had been
pulled out from underneath everybody, and all they could do was just ride
it out and see where they all landed.

"Yeah, you think so, Coach?" Keene said, and there was that unusual trace
of uncertainty again. Preston looked at him squarely, nodded, smiled at
him. He'd always been told he was good at that part of the job especially
-- calming a guy down when he got uptight about himself, working through it
with him, making him see he had it under control.

"Magna cum laude, Stanford Law, good head on your shoulders, good
looks... yeah, you got this, bud," he said, feeling his cheeks tingle some
more as he heard back in his head what he'd just said. But fuck it. It was
already out there. And the way Keene's eyes locked in on his, those pretty
lips of his smiling a little wider, seemed like it had been well received.

"Gee, all that, huh Coach?" Keene said with a gleam in his eye and that new
flirty edge to his smile, and sure, Preston had already been quietly hooked
on this good-looking fucker, but now that his defenses had come down some,
the kid had him good. And fuck if he didn't seem to know it, too.

Preston took another solid draw on his beer, then nodded, seeing the quick,
subtle way Keene looked him up and down. Sizing him up, just like he did
with his opponents on the mat. But this was a whole different game. 'But is
it, really?' he thought, feeling his cheeks prickling from the flush of
alcohol and the feelings inside of him. Probably starting to blush a
little, under the thick dark hair of his beard, but who the fuck cared,
right? He set his beer down, wiped his lips on the back of his hand, and
gave Keene a slow up-down look of his own, coming to a decision even before
he knew he was doing it.

"Big dick too," he said, holding Keene's bright gaze, his voice thick with
beer and pitched low, man-to-man confidential, and yeah, now he knew he was
blushing. Part of him wondering why the fuck he'd just said that out loud,
and another part wondering why the fuck he'd waited so long to say it.

Keene's eyes widened a little in surprise, but he covered it smoothly as he
brought his own beer up to his mouth. "You noticed, huh?" he said with a
little smirk and took a sip, and all Preston could do was nod and hold the
kid's gaze. Seeing Keene tease away another layer of himself, just for him,
and wanting to see a whole lot more.

"I'm glad you did," Keene said as he set his glass down, looking back at
him squarely. There was that quiet, easy confidence he'd always showed so
well. "Noticed you too."

"Yeah, buddy?" Preston said, his voice sounding thick and a little
rusty. Fuck, it had been a long time since he'd done this, and it felt real
damn good to be doing it. Keene nodded. "Well I'm glad you did too."

"Couldn't help it," Keene said quietly, giving him another, more obvious
up-down sizing up, slower this time. Preston subtly squared his shoulders,
knowing they looked good in this sweater. He might not have Keene's 30-inch
waist, but he'd always been powerfully built, and he'd grown into his body
well. He had 15 years on this kid, and they'd added up on his frame pretty
nicely. Now Keene was letting him see he liked the sum of his parts too.

"Neither could I," he said, feeling the full-on flush in his cheeks now,
admitting shit a coach was never supposed to say, and especially not to one
of his guys. But everything else was fucked and turning upside-down now, so
might as well let all of that go. At least for tonight.

"Well then," Keene said. "Here we are."

"Yeah," Preston said, saying the next part without even thinking about
it. Sometimes it was best not to second-guess your instincts.. "You wanna
go someplace else?"

"Fuck yeah I do, Coach," Keene grinned.

* * *

Where Keene wanted to go was Preston's place, because even though half of
campus had seemingly emptied out overnight with the news of the impending
shutdown, there were still quite a few people around the big apartment
complexes over where Keene lived.

"Might not be a good look, for you to be seen going into my place
and... staying awhile," Keene said as they walked the couple of blocks from
the Grill to the little place Preston rented. It was smarter than driving,
the responsible behavior to model for a student. Thinking that had made him
want to laugh out loud, but here they were anyway.

Preston shot him an amused, buzzed grin. "`Awhile,' huh? You've been giving
this some thought."

"Yeah, maybe," Keene said, with a little grin of his own. "Why do you think
I asked you out for that beer?"

'Oh you're going to do just fuckin' fine in this world, whatever happens,
kid,' Preston thought, feeling a hearty tingle spreading through the crotch
of his jeans. He reached out to give Keene's arm another playful tap, and
this time added a little squeeze to it too. 'Just fuckin' fine.'

He told himself it wasn't nerves as he fumbled with his keys, trying to
unlock the side door to the house, just a little case of beer-induced
fumble-fingers. Feeling Keene standing behind him at a respectful distance
wasn't helping him much, either. Then he felt Keene step in a little
closer, and his light, almost tentative touch on his shoulder, and all of a
sudden the right key presented itself and slid smoothly home in the lock,
and they were stepping into the kitchen.

He slipped the keys and his phone onto the counter, then turned back to
Keene, seeing the young man standing there, looking at him neutrally,
quietly poised like most wrestlers he knew tended to do. Like they were at
practice and he was awaiting Coach Preston's go-ahead to engage.

"You want a drink?" Preston asked after a long, silent moment between them.

"Not really, Coach," he said. "I'm good."

"Yeah, guess I am too," Preston said. He wasn't much of a drinker anymore,
so the three beers tonight had been plenty enough. Hell, look where they'd
gotten him. But he liked being here, and he wanted to really be here for
it.

"You sure are," Keene said, smiling, and fuck, these last few years
quietly, furtively thinking about him in his off-hours still hadn't
prepared Preston for all this. Even less so when Keene set his phone down
on the counter too, and stepped in close.

"*We're good*, Coach," he said, and when he tilted his head in towards him
with that easy self-confidence of his, Preston was more than ready to meet
him.

Keene's lips were even better than he'd imagined. Not only did they look
great, all full and sensual, they worked real well too. They were plush and
mobile, welcoming and seeking at once, and Preston tried to restrain the
hunger inside him, and just focus on enjoying the electric connection
between them. He reached for Keene's sharp-edged jaw as he kissed him back,
and Keene's hand found its way to his hip to squeeze him, easy and
natural. Preston couldn't stifle the little moan he let out at that, and he
sure wasn't going to stifle his tongue, as it flicked those soft, warm,
welcoming lips of his favorite student, and found itself well received.

Keene's tongue met his in a warm, wet clash, swirling against each other
before it slid confidently past his and filled the rest of his mouth,
smooth and easy. Fuck, Preston had missed this -- not just kissing another
man, but another man who kissed well, kissed like he loved to do it just as
much as Preston did. His hand slid up Keene's jaw to cup the back of his
head, and now both of them moaned together as their tongues danced with
each other, Keene's other hand finding his right hip, both hands moving
smoothly over his solid flanks, up and down, drawing him even deeper.

Preston wanted so bad to take hold of Keene's ass. It's what he'd wanted
most these past three, four years, covertly eyeing Keene's powerful,
athletic frame as it worked. Maybe it was those last remnant traces of his
Coach brain holding him back, but it was like Keene sensed it, sensed his
coach's hand lingering so close to the strong arc of muscle and flesh
filling the seat of his jeans, sensed his hesitation to reach for it. He
shifted his hips a little and brushed up against Preston's big, wavering
hand, gave the man's tongue a little English inside his mouth, and Preston
got the fuck over himself and took his fine young ass in hand at last.

It wasn't like wrestling had any kind of shortage of great asses, and
Preston often thought one of the fringe benefits of his job was getting to
see so many of them, showed off so well in tight spandex singlets and
practice shorts and sweatpants. Keene's ass, though... like the rest of
him, it stood out, literally and figuratively, one key part of the package
that made the kid so fucking compelling. It was high, tight, perfectly
rounded, with the deep indentations on the sides that marked a truly
powerful set of glutes. Preston mentally bit his knuckles every time he saw
it shifting, flexing, tightening and tensing under the shiny dark blue of
Keene's singlet. It wasn't as compact as some of the smaller guys on his
squad, not as meaty and jigglesome as the bigger guys in the heavier weight
classes. Keene's ass was just right, poetry in motion every time he moved,
twin globes of coiled power designed to push and drive and thrust. And now
it was in his hand, both of his hands, clasping and squeezing the steely,
muscular tightness of the kid's cheeks. Keene chuckled a bit into his mouth
as they kissed, alternately tensing and relaxing, putting on a little show
for his avidly squeezing paws, knowing just what his coach wanted, needed
as well as Preston did himself. For maybe the millionth time, Preston
wondered what this perfect athlete's ass would look like naked, spread
before him to explore more deeply, and whatever else came out of what they
were doing together now, before it ended, he hoped to finally find out in
the flesh.

He probably could have done this all night, and Keene didn't seem to be in
any particular hurry either. Somehow they'd worked their way to the other
side of the little kitchen without him even registering it, and now the
doorframe leading into the hall was pressing up his spine, and Keene was
pressing into him, kissing him like the man he'd truly grown into. The kid
was a fucking rockstar at this, even more than all the other shit he'd
excelled in. Now Preston could feel the hardness in Keene's jeans, his
spectacular ass shifting slowly, rhythmically in Preston's tight, coveting
grasp, pressing the long, thick shape of his hard young cock against his
thigh while they kissed deep and wet. He knew how big the kid was, had seen
the shape of it hinted at in his singlet all these years, the mound of it
stuffed heavy inside his sweaty underwear when he peeled his singlet off
after a hard bout. He'd done way more than his fair share of looking at it,
but feeling it against him right now was on a whole other level. It felt
twice as big to his hungry imagination, big and urgent and ready for
more. Ready for anything and everything, and Jesus *fuck*, Preston was
too. So ready.

"I want this, Coach," Keene murmured huskily, pressing just about the full
length of his lithe, powerful body up against Preston's. Keene had always
brought a subtle kind of intensity to his work on the mat, eager to
compete, but somehow thoughtful about it too. He was sure bringing it to
this, to them right now. Preston was used to him in student mode, always
listening and learning, observing. But the dynamic had shifted. He wasn't
just showing Preston what he could do, he was letting the man see who he
was and what he wanted. Not quite a role reversal, more leveling the field
of play, and it struck a chord real deep inside Preston, one that made his
cock pulse inside his own jeans, made his asshole and insides tingle
hungrily for more. Much, much more.

"Fuck, I want it too, buddy," Preston half-moaned in reply, clutching the
fabric of his sweatshirt in both fists as Keene's tongue glanced at his
lips playfully.

"I'm all yours," the kid breathed, slipping Preston his tongue for a quick,
searching, lusty kiss. "Show me what you want, big guy."

Preston did. He stood Keene in front of his bed, the wrestler assuming that
poised, ready, waiting stance again as Preston took a moment to drink in
the sight of him. Something he'd long imagined, and part of him was still
thinking he was imagining this, *them*, right now. But no, Keene was here
in his bedroom, very real and alive, looking at him with something like
amusement, that easy, flirty smile spread across his sensual lips, and
fuck, he was just about the most beautiful thing Preston had ever
seen. Wrestling had more than its fair share of young Adonises, but Keene
was on another level. He was the only one who'd ever captivated Preston
like this, and the only one he'd ever come this far with, at least as a
coach.

He felt a little twinge inside at that, some remnant guilt born of years of
rigorous separation of his desires and his duty. But it was just a little
twinge, and it was no match for the hot, hard pulse of his cock inside his
jeans now as he reached out to touch Keene, just sampling his perfect young
form, coveting him with something more than just his eyes and imagination
at long last. His hands reached for Keene's taut, almost impossibly narrow
waist, feeling the young man's hips shift into his grasp permissively, and
then traveled up the strong taper of his lats, savoring the way Keene's
body moved with him, almost anticipating his next touch, ready to receive
it and inflame him even more.

Preston's hands snagged Keene's sweatshirt, the T-shirt beneath it coming
free of the kid's jeans, and Keene raised his arms up, both anticipating
and guiding Preston. He took hold of the upper layers and peeled them up,
looking down to see the way Keene's abs rippled and shifted, taut creamy
skin dusted with brown fur and stretched tight across them. Keene helped
him out, reaching for the hem of his sweatshirt and tugging the two layers
the rest of the way up and off, and Preston had to bite his lip at the
sight of him. He'd seen it a hundred times before, but that was always in
the context of the gym, his duty. Now it was deeply, intimately personal.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he heard himself murmur, and Keene let out a soft
laugh at that.

"Thanks, Coach," Keene smiled modestly. "Mighty fine yourself, big guy," he
said, then reached for Preston, pulling him close and kissing him with that
easy, confident skill he had in spades, pulling at the older man's
sweatshirt as he did.

"God I'd love to be this big," Keene muttered a few minutes later, tracing
his hands over the thickly muscled, dark-furred contours of Preston's arms,
shoulders, chest. "Always loved how friggin'... *powerful* you look,
Coach."

Preston felt deeply thrilled inside, not just from Keene's coveting touch,
but his words, the earnestness in them, and the hungry way his eyes moved
over Preston's flesh.

"You're plenty big yourself, bud," Preston murmured, playing his big hands
over the powerful musculature of Keene's upper arms, the rounded,
hard-packed swells of his shoulders, stroking down over the twin plates of
his big young pecs, two slabs of lean muscle capped with big, stiff nips
almost the same color as his lips. His mouth literally watered as he
brushed over them, listening to Keene's soft, sharp inhale of breath,
feeling them stiffen even further as his palms stroked over the little
peaks.

"Big all over," Preston said, working up the balls to do what came next, as
one hand reached down to ghost over the big, long bulge in the kid's
well-packed jeans. Keene bit his lip again and let out another soft sound
of pleasure as Preston's palm pressed down more firmly on that big,
enticing bulge. He felt it throb back against him, a tangible shift in
response, and let out a little laugh of surprise that got a chuckle out of
Keene too.

"So they tell me," the kid said. "You wanna find out for yourself, Coach?"

Jesus, was Preston ever this confident when he was this kid's age? He
didn't think so, not like this, anyway. But then, Keene had plenty to be
confident about, and a lot of it was throbbing underneath his palm right
now. He felt another hot flare of lust burn through him, from the belly
out, and nodded. Yeah, he wanted to find out for himself. He hadn't wanted
anything so badly in a real long time.

This time it was him leaning in to initiate another hot, lusty round of
wet, lip-smacking kisses as his thick fingers found Keene's belt, working
it open on autopilot as their hungry tongues worked on each other. He could
feel the tight, hard muscles of Keene's abs moving against the backs of his
fingers as he undid the button on his jeans, and then the subtle heat
seeming to flow out of them as he worked the zipper down and pushed them
open. Keene held the back of his head with one confident, intimate hand as
they kissed long and deep, Preston's hands steady and firm as they pushed
the kid's jeans down over the immaculate curve of his ass, down his long,
lithe thighs. His hands came up to cup that ass again, feeling it shift and
flex as Keene rocked his hips forward and pressed the big, hard bulge in
his trunks against Preston's own thick tent. Preston grunted into his
mouth, and got something like a chuckle back as their tongues lashed and
slid around each other for one more round.

"Fuck, kid," he grunted, looking down between them, past the tight
definition of Keene's abs to the hefty mound in his shorts. He trailed his
fingers over it, Keene sighing quietly as he traced along the length,
outlining the shape of it in the stretched blue fabric of his undies.

"You like?" Keene said, and Preston just nodded, barely able to tear his
eyes from it. He'd been thinking earlier about Keene unpeeling layers to
show him what was beneath, who he was at his core, and now it was his turn
to do the same, felt like.

"I'm glad, Coach," Keene murmured to him, hand firm but easy as it rubbed
the short thick hairs on the back of his head. "It's all yours if you want
it, sir."

Preston dropped to his knees with a heavy thud on the hardwood floor, not
even thinking about it, just following the instincts he'd alternately
embraced, forced aside, and suppressed so much over the years. He stroked
his hands over the long, muscle-dense columns of Keene's thighs, savoring
the way his big quads shifted as the kid toed off his sneakers and stepped
out of his jeans. He was already reaching for his underwear, but Keene beat
him to it, looking down at him with a confident, but playful smile. He'd
done this before, for others, and probably pretty often, based on how good
he was at all this. He knew what he had, what he looked like, how badly
wanted he was. It showed in the way he hooked his thumbs in his waistband
and eased his sexy trunks down, revealing the thick fan of auburn fur
curling down and spreading out across his pubic mound. Not hurried or
furtive or urgent -- proud, confident, doing himself justice, consciously
giving Preston what he wanted to see so bad. A gift, from one man to
another.

Keene's cock was everything Preston had thought it would be, and even more
besides. He'd never seen it hard, not like this, and it was truly a thing
of beauty. Well over seven inches, to his eye, a lot closer to eight, and
thick in a way that made his hole tingle particularly intensely. It was a
seriously handsome cock, pornworthy even, and even though he sported a very
decent piece of his own, Preston felt no shame at all being outgunned by
this young man. Freed from his underwear, it stood hard and proud, arcing
up toward the ceiling in that insistent way your cock only did when you
were in your young prime, and Preston felt a weird mix of jealousy and
pride. That, and a deeply hungry heat that made his palms itch, his mouth
water, and his cock sing urgently from the cramped confines of his jeans.

He looked up at Keene, who was watching him with that hot smile of his, and
the kid just nodded confidently at him, knowing exactly what his coach
wanted from him. He always had, and now he knew more about Preston and what
the man wanted than anyone else ever had.

"God*damn*," Preston grunted as Keene's flesh filled his hand, thick and
hard and alive, throbbing insistently, pulsing in his slow, appreciative
stroking grasp. The kid was leaking already from all the kissing, and
Preston grinned to himself at how in sync the two of them were, loving the
soft way Keene grunted when he swirled his thumb through the thick, sticky
seepage of precum and rubbed it into the spongy-firm flesh of his head. He
gave him a firmer, more determined stroke, Keene's stellar thighs
tightening up, flexing harder as he went with the pleasure Preston was
giving him, retaking the reins and giving the kid the benefit of his own
experience with another man.

"Yeah, Coach, that's... awww *fuck*," Keene gasped when Preston added his
tongue to the mix, wide and warm and wet, lapping it slowly up the
underside of his head, then all around the tip. The salty, musky flavors of
the kid's cock and his pre hit him hard, rich and complex and savory,
making his mouth water even more. It really had been too long, and he
wasn't going to waste any more time. He ran his tongue from the base of
Keene's cock, all the way up the underside to the head, and when he got
there, Preston opened wide and took him in.

Keene's hands cupped the back of his head as Preston worked him over,
calling on those old talents to take him down, slow and easy, the two of
them getting used to each other like this for the first time. Preston
smiled to himself around the thickness of the kid as he worked his way down
him, savoring every inch, working his lips down it and lashing it with his
tongue. Yeah, it had been a minute, probably since that dude he'd found on
Scruff on his last recruiting trip back in late fall, but it was just like
riding a bike -- a lot of fun, and somehow freeing too.

"Oh my god, dude," Keene grunted, rubbing his hand and squeezing the bulky
muscle of his shoulder as Preston worked him over, getting most of the way
down, then sliding back up, getting his thick, pulsing young cock good and
wet for the ride. He grunted to himself and heard Keene gasp at the
sensation of it vibing through his cock, and then again as he found the
right rhythm on his piece, a smooth, wet slide up and down his ample
length, getting deeper and deeper on him with each suck-stroke, opening
himself up to Keene's sheer *bigness*.

Big as Keene was, there was a little bit of work to this, but it was good
work, work he liked, work he was good at, and that came with its own sense
of accomplishment, especially once he finally felt the tickle of Keene's
pubes grazing his nose and lips, finding the base of the stud kid's big
young dick, flirting hard with his gag reflex, making his eyes water a
little bit. He looked up, and found Keene's blue-eyed gaze locked on his,
cool and hot and hungry all at once.

"Fuck, Coach, nobody's ever..." Keene said, his voice husky and tight, and
Preston just rumbled in reply, making Keene bite his lip again as his eyes
rolled up a little at the feeling of it. He let Keene's length pulsate
against his lips and tongue for a minute, then came up off him in one long,
wet slide.

"Oh yeah?" he said, his voice thick with spit and hunger as he took his
cock in hand again, giving it a firm, slow stroke, making all kinds of hot,
wet noises. "Cock like you got, that's a damn shame, stud."

Keene gave him one of those big, pleased smiles, and offered no resistance
when Preston took hold of his hips and guided him the few steps back to his
bed. He sat down hard, handsome thighs splayed, his cock arcing up against
his rippling stomach, gleaming with a thick coating of Preston's spit,
looking even handsomer now. Preston stood up and tugged his belt open, and
Keene leaned forward with eager eyes and hands to take over.

"Let me, Coach," he said, looking up at him in a way that was both
seductive and a little worshipful too. "Been thinking about it a long time
now."

Goddamn, that made the tingle inside him turn into a deep, hot rush. All
these years working together, this thing inside them both the whole time,
quiet and deep and strong. But he was glad they'd waited, too. Anything
else would have been irresponsible, even dangerous. But now with everything
out there in the world the way it was, it felt like perfect timing.

"Now or never," he muttered aloud, and Keene shot him a hot look and a big
smile.

"Just what I've been thinking, Coach," he said, and yanked the buttons of
Preston's strained jeans open with a fast, sharp pull.

"Fuck yeah," Keene muttered to himself, hands stroking over Preston's solid
hips, pushing his jeans down his thick, hairy thighs, coming back up to
play with his cock-packed boxer briefs. Preston wriggled the rest of his
way out of his jeans, kicking them off, while Keene tugged on his shorts
with an eager hunger that was surprising and exciting, trying to let him
loose. Preston stepped up between Keene's thighs, giving him an easier
reach, then tilted the handsome kid's face up and kissed him, deep and
hungry, his tongue heavy with spit and the taste of Keene's cock. Keene
grunted into his mouth and kissed him back just as lustily, as his hands
got Preston's underwear down and set him free.

"Yeah, nice," Keene growled in a surprisingly lusty, manly way Preston had
never heard from him before, as he wrapped his hand around Preston's
hardon. He'd never felt so thick before, so big, and looking down at his
piece in Keene's grasp was a total fucking head-trip. He wasn't as big as
his favorite wrestler, but he was still plenty of man down there, the solid
heft of his cock a match for the rest of his powerful frame. Keene gave him
a skilled, appreciative series of strokes as he leaned up to kiss him some
more, Preston growling his approval into his mouth as the kid worked him
over, and did it right.

It was his turn to moan when the kid bent over athletically and wrapped his
lips around the head of it, lashing his leaking thickness with his tongue
as his lips encased the crown and worked their way down. He gazed down at
the powerful, defined muscles of Keene's back, and ran his hands over them
the way he'd always wanted to, feeling the ripple and shift of them under
his creamy young skin. Such a fine piece of young manly power, all over, it
made his mouth water just to touch him, while the kid's talented lips and
tongue made his cock hum and throb and leak even more.

This was all so good, so *right*, a hundred times better than he'd imagined
in his head, naked in this very bed, stroking the cock his star wrestler
was sucking so well right now. *Fuck*. Keene was real good at this, and he
couldn't help but be jealous of whatever other guys he'd honed his skills
on. There was something to be said for natural talent, but you really
needed practice to take it to the next level -- it applied just as well to
sex as it did to wrestling. But whoever else had been lucky enough to get
naked and get with Keene like this didn't really matter, in the end --
right now, it was him who was the lucky guy, and there was more he wanted
to know about Keene's skills. More he needed from this handsome, big-dicked
young man who'd been haunting his imagination for the better part of four
years, and was about to move on with his life, and out of Preston's.

'Now or never,' he thought again, and took his hands and eased Keene's
talented, hard-working mouth slowly up and off his cock.

"You're fucking good at this, bud," he growled, tilting Keene's handsome
face back to look him in the eye. Those pillowy lips were even redder now,
glazed with spit and impossible to resist, so he didn't, leaning in for
another hungry, sloppy, lusty kiss that Keene eagerly returned. He could
taste himself on Keene's lips and tongue and in his thick spit, and growled
lustily as they half-devoured each other's mouths. They went at it for a
couple minutes before he leaned back again. "What else are you good at?"

Keene grinned at him lustily, and fuck but he loved seeing this side of the
big young stud.

"What else do you want me to show you, Coach?" he said, voice thick and
deep and rich with a grown man's sexuality. As he did, he ran one hand up
Preston's thick, hairy thigh, up to the chunky swell of his ass, and
squeezed. Like he could read Preston's mind. "I can do a lot of things. You
got something in particular in mind?"

Preston looked deep into his eyes, and saw no challenge there, no judgment,
just readiness. Awaiting his coach's go-ahead to show what he could
do. Preston had spent a lot of time over the years thinking about how much
he liked getting fucked, feeling another man's cock inside of him. Spent a
lot of time ashamed of himself for it. He guessed a lot of guys like him
did. But he was getting too old for that now, too old to let the stupid
parts of his head get in the way of what he wanted. Nothing else out there
in the world seemed certain anymore, all of a sudden. But in here, right
now, what he did know for certain was how much he wanted to get fucked. And
most of all, how much he wanted Keene inside of him.

He stepped over to his bedside table and took the lube from the
drawer. Considered the condoms sitting next to it, and set them on the
table just in case. He could feel Keene's eyes on him, clocking every move
silently. When he turned back, Keene was leaning back on his hands, triceps
bulging, all those hard-working, perfectly shaped muscles of his torso and
thighs on display. The wrestler was watching him, waiting, ready for the
next move. Preston's gaze went right back to that big fucking cock, curving
up in the air like a piece of finely carved ivory, and he knew for certain
what it would be.

Preston hunkered down between Keene's thighs, sliding his hands up the
insides of them -- clocking the little shiver that went through the young
man as he did -- and spread them wide. Keene grinned at him and leaned back
a little more, his cock becoming the focal point now, licking his ripe lips
a little in anticipation as his coach took him by the hips, pulled his ass
towards the edge of the bed, then grabbed hold of his fine young cock.

"You like to fuck, Keene?" he said, putting some of the coach's steel into
his voice, a little bit of a challenge for the young man to rise
to. Keene's eyes flared, and he grinned a little, nodding, his cock pulsing
in Preston's hand as the man lazily stroked its handsome length.

"Yessir," Keene said, polite but firm, that Carolina twang coming out a
little more in his voice again. "What about you, Coach? Do you like to
fuck?"

His gaze was knowing, firm and direct, but there was a warmth to it too,
and again Preston reflected that the world could be Keene's for the taking,
if he wanted it.

"Or... do you like to *get* fucked, Coach?"

Preston found himself grinning at him, giving his cock a firmer, deeper
stroke, already imagining how it would feel inside him. Real fucking good,
he bet.

"What are your instincts telling you, Keene?" he said, and Keene grinned at
him a little more, rising to the challenge without hesitation, like he knew
he would.

"They're telling me that it'd be real good to fuck you, Coach," he said,
that manly, sexy depth to his voice again, matching his gaze. "And I'd
really like to fuck you. I've wanted to for a long time."

"That right, bud?" Preston said, and then leaned in close to Keene's
towering cock, directing his breath over the moist head of it, watching
Keen's uncontrollable little full-body shiver. "Well then, I think it's
about time you showed me what you can do, don't you?"

He didn't wait for a reply, just took Keene's cock in his paw and fed
himself with it, one long, slow, wet-mouthed slide down the full length,
until it was nudging the back of his throat, challenging and then pushing
past his gag reflex. He kept his eyes locked on Keene's the whole time, and
when he reached the base, slid his hand up the spectacular terrain of the
kid's body and tweaked his stiff tit, just to add a little extra.

"Jesus *fuck*, Coach," Keene grunted tightly, letting out a loud,
deep-chested moan when Preston swallowed around the head of him. He'd need
a little more time and practice with a cock this big to truly deep-throat
him, like he could with some other guys, but for now, Preston thought he'd
done pretty damn well by the kid. Gave Keene something else to think about,
and maybe ask for later, too. If they were gonna do this, might as well
make the most of it.

He came up off Keene, sucking in a nice deep lungful of air that made his
chest swell, and he liked the appreciative way Keene watched the motion of
it. He swiped the spit off his lips and reached for the lube, only for
Keene to reach over and put a hand on his forearm.

"Let me get you ready, Coach," he said, and the mix of his polite
on-the-mat manner with the shine of his lips and the hardness of his cock
made Preston's insides hum. He nodded, and Keene was on him, quick and
fluid, his lithe body wrapping around Preston's bigger frame with deft
lightness. God, he loved that feeling, strength and warmth and flesh
against his, as Keene moved his body smoothly onto the bed. He outweighed
the kid by a good 30 pounds, but it didn't even seem to matter. But then,
he really wanted this, too. He wasn't going to put up any kind of a fight.

Keene got him sprawled out across the bed and moved easily down his body,
his strong hands and taut muscles and big, hard dick grazing all down his
skin, making it prickle deliciously.

"Nice," he heard him mutter, almost to himself, as those hands found and
squeezed Preston's glutes. Keene's long fingers sank into the meat of them,
testing the plush, dark-furred flesh, and Preston couldn't help but tense
the muscles up nice and tight.

"*Fuck*," Keene growled, quiet and hungry, and Preston grinned over his
shoulder at him. Damn, he was glad he'd had that third beer, because this
was turning out to be a fuckin' fine time indeed, and it felt great to just
give into it and go with the flow like this.

Keene met his gaze and grinned back, his barely restrained enthusiasm
shining through.

"It's all yours, big guy," Preston said to him, just like Keene did
earlier, and he got to see the kid peel another layer away for him, showing
him just how hungry and excited he was. Then he moaned as Keene spread his
thick globes wide, and dove right in.

There was nothing but husky growls and grunts and curses after that for a
little while, that and the lewd, hungry sounds of a man eating ass. He
fucking loved it, had missed it, his whole body responding, writhing
against the comforter beneath him, rolling his hips and trying to fuck the
mattress. He already knew Keene's tongue pretty well -- it was as strong
and agile and talented as the rest of him. It was confident in what it was
doing, working him over thoroughly, taking skilful control of his ass and
making him submit. He ate ass like he wrestled, and Preston had to stifle a
sudden laugh at, and how great it'd look under Keene's name in the
yearbook.

"Fuck yeah man, get in there," he growled lustily, which was pretty
redundant, because Keene was sure doing it, and had been pretty much from
the start. But he couldn't help it -- he had years of experience working
with young men, and he knew how well they responded to praise and
encouragement. Made them want to do even better, and as confident and
talented as Keene was, he knew he'd still want to try.

"*God* you got a great ass, Coach," Keene grunted thickly after several
more minutes of exploring his ring and then his insides, squeezing the
flesh of it some more. Preston was pretty sure he wanted to smack it, but
was too deferential to do it. God knows Preston wanted to do it to his, but
he'd never been the ass-smacking type of coach. Never let himself be,
anyway. A little too close to home for him.

Anyway, he was pleased at the compliment, so he guessed that praise and
encouragement thing went both ways. He wasn't lean and defined like Keene,
never had been, but he'd always been proud of his body, like most wrestlers
were, whether they admitted it or not. He knew he had a nice ass, and it
was always hot as hell to have another guy compliment him on it.

"Shoulda seen it in a singlet, back in the day," he said with a smartass
grin over his shoulder.

"I did," Keene said with a wicked little smile of his own. "God bless the
internet, right?"

Preston laughed deep at that, which melted into a lusty moan as Keene
leaned back in and licked him up and down some more. His hole felt alive,
almost throbbing with pleasure after all the focused attention Keene and
his eager, agile tongue had paid it, and now he could feel Keene laying
down a nice coat of spit over it with long, wide licks, which just made it
hum even more.

"The hell you learn how to eat ass like that, Keene?" he grunted when the
kid came back up again, sliding his body back up the length of Preston's,
draping himself over him with fluid, athletic ease, his breath hot and
musky on Preston's neck and ears.

"First time I found out about it, I knew I wanted to do it," Keene said, as
Preston felt the hot, sticky press of his big young cock against his
thoroughly manhandled ass. His back arched a little more, good old
instincts kicking in. "And ever since then, I guess I've just been working
on getting better at it."

"Well mission accomplished, bud," Preston said, smiling at the notion of a
younger Keene hearing about eating ass, and setting himself on a course to
master it with his typical quiet determination. Keene leaned in over him,
real close, and Preston could taste himself on his lips and tongue as they
engaged his, nice and slow.

"Show you what else I've been working on too, if you like, Coach," Keene
said a couple good, long, deep minutes later, and Preston just
nodded. Keene lifted up off him and reached for the lube, and this time it
was Preston's turn to stop him.

"Uh-uh," he said, gently bucking the kid up off of him and rolling
over. "My turn now, bud."

Keene sat back on his heels and draped an arm around Preston's neck, easy
and intimate, smiling as he watched his coach work a heavy layer of lube
all over his big, thick young cock. Preston knew just how to play it,
another of those old reliable instincts kicking in just fine, how to give
the big-dicked kid a good time with it, but not too much time. He was very
sure Keene could go another round if he accidentally triggered him off, but
fuck it -- he wanted this load, this first load, inside him. If this first
time was gonna be their last time, he wanted to make it really count.

"How do you want me?" Keene asked, all deferential and quietly eager again.

Christ, what a question. 'In *so* many ways, if you only knew, kid,' he
thought with a little twinge, mixed in with the excitement he was trying to
keep under control.

"On your back," Preston said, pleased at the way Keene automatically did as
he asked, arranging himself quickly and smoothly, his cock standing up big
and hard and shining with the generous layer of Swiss Navy. "Been a minute
since I've been with a guy big as you. Let me get used to you first."

Keene grinned at the compliment and nodded eagerly, his eyes tracking every
move as Preston slid one big leg over to straddle him. His hands followed
his eyes, sliding up and down the big bulging length of Preston's quads,
stroking over the hard muscle and the warm skin and the thick, dark fur
that sprung all over them. Preston leaned over to the bedside table and
snagged the strand of rubbers.

"Yes, or no?" he asked simply, and he could see Keene working through
it. They were all taught how important safe sex was, and Preston himself
stressed it whenever they had regular health briefings with the guys. But
hell, he hadn't gotten laid in almost six months; he was practically
celibate in this quiet little town. It wasn't any kind of excuse, and
neither was the fact that everything else in the world felt so suddenly
dangerous and unpredictable. But he knew deep down that if he only got this
one shot with Keene, he wanted to feel as much of it as he could, so he
could keep coming back to it in the years ahead, if all this passed and he
got the chance to.

"I'm tested," Keene said. "All clear, and I'm responsible, always. So I'm
OK with no, if you are."

Preston knew Keene was speaking the truth -- he wouldn't have expected any
less of him. They'd been working together almost four years now, closely,
and that brought a special kind of trust between two men.

"And as crazy as this last semester's been, I haven't had time to get
really laid anyways," Keene grinned.

"That's a damn shame," Preston said, reaching down to give the kid's
strong, handsome pecs a squeeze and brushing his ass back against his big
dick. "Let's fix that, then."

Preston reached behind him with one hand to take hold of Keene's hard,
throbbing slickness, and looked at the condoms in his other hand. "I don't
know if these'd even fit you anyhow," he said, and tossed them back onto
the bedside table.

"Shut up, man," Keene said good-naturedly, smacking the meat of his
thigh. "C'mon, let's do this."

He was right to have been cautious, because Keene felt about twice as big
against him, out of his line of sight, slick and thick and hard as marble
in his hand as he lined him up against his hole. All the spit Keene had fed
into him helped some, and the thick layer of lube he'd laid down over it
himself helped even more, but still, the kid had a fucking unit on him, and
it was real slow going getting it inside of him. He thought back to the
first few times he'd bottomed, how uncomfortable it had been, but
remembered too just how damn good it felt once that part was out of the
way. How *right* another man's cock could feel inside of him. Thought back
to all those years as a young wrestler, his coaches preaching about
toughing it out, pushing through the wall, getting past the discomfort to
win glory. How he'd turned that wisdom right back around the young men in
his charge.

'Walk the talk, and take the cock,' he thought, smirking a little, and the
distraction helped take his mind off the intense pressure and low-key
discomfort of getting Keene past the ring and inside of him.

Keene wasn't just laying back and looking pretty. He'd been showing Preston
all evening how skilled and active a lover he was, and he was nothing if
not consistent. His hands stroked the big bunched muscles of Preston's
thighs, both soothing and appreciating him, and worked their way up and
over whatever other parts of the man he could reach. The touch helped, and
so did the warm, happy look of connection and pleasure in the kid's eyes.

"Can't believe we're finally doing this," Keene murmured, and Preston was
beyond excited to hear how in sync the two of them were. Keene pushed
himself halfway upright, leaning in as close as he could, those sexy
smiling lips of his parting again, and Preston welcomed the further
distraction. He cupped the back of the kid's handsome head and kissed him,
letting it be slow this time, a long, deep dance of lips and tongues, the
sounds smacking soft and wet in the air around them. And right as they got
real deep into it, he felt the intense pressure around his hole give, and
then the surprise of Keene's big cockhead slipping past the ring of muscle,
and inside of him.

"Aw fuckin' *godddddddd*, Coach," Keene hissed.

"Fuck yeah, big guy," Preston moaned back, and they kissed again, a little
hungrier now, as he pushed himself further down his favorite wrestler's
cock. He was all-in now, giving it all up to Keene, thick and solid and
sliding deep inside of him as he filled himself with him.

It took a minute to get used to him, to get used to doing this again, but
just like sucking cock, the old ways came back to him easily. Yeah, it was
still a little uncomfortable, but he'd been here often enough to know it
would get better. A whole lot better, and he was eager to get to that
point, where the pressure and stretch and discomfort came together and
became something new, something deeper, the thing he'd been chasing most of
his grown life. Soon enough, Preston found it again, and he let out a long,
happy moan, smiling as his eyes drifted closed. Keene's hands were still
touching him, squeezing and stroking the outsides of his flesh, savoring
him, while his big dick did its work on his insides.

When Preston opened his eyes, ready to ride for real now, he had to grunt
at the sight of Keene, sprawling back beneath him on his bed -- and christ,
how many nights had he pictured that in his head? -- hands flung back
either side of his head, letting the big man find his way on him. All of a
sudden, Preston thought he finally got art, looking at the composition of
Keene's finely honed, smooth-skinned, muscle-packed young frame. The
wrestler's face was even more handsome now, shifting in pleasure, focused
and unfocused in turn as Preston worked himself slowly up and down his
cocklength. Preston found his rhythm on him, feeling that hot, electric
ripple through him every time Keene's long, thick, hard flesh stroked
across his prostate, wanting to chase that feeling like some kind of
junkie.

His eyes focused in on Keene's, the two of them finding the intensity of it
together, nodding at each other in silent communication as Keene did his
best to hold him, using the incredible coiled power of his core to push the
bigger man up a little, making some space so he could do his part and fuck
up into him. Now it was the two of them fucking together, finding a fluid,
easy, physical rhythm, and Preston hazily thought he'd finally reaped the
benefits of all that training he'd put the kid through. All his own years
learning his way around another man, how to move against him, and how to
move with him.

He rode Keene that way for a while, the two of them barely saying a word,
just grunting and moaning and nodding over the sounds of their bodies
against each other, hips meeting thighs, hands stroking over skin and
hair. Preston's hardon had come back strong, and he relished the familiar
pleasure of it in his hand, all thick and sticky-wet with precum now he'd
found the zone, coupled with the intensifying pleasure Keene's cock was
giving him inside. He tried not to stroke it too much, just held it,
squeezed it, not wanting to get too far over the line and end this ride too
soon.

Keene must have been a mind-reader, because he reached for Preston's
cock-squeezing hand and gently, but decisively moved it away. He replaced
it with his own, giving his coach a hazy, pleasure-deep grin and then a
slow, appreciative series of strokes, taking the full measure of the man
who'd worked so closely with him these last few years.

"You feel so good, Coach," he murmured, clutching Preston's big, bunching
thigh tight with one hand, his cock with the other, as he thrust up to meet
his tight, hungry hole. "You feelin' good?"

"Fuck yeah I'm feelin' good, bud," Preston growled, and he didn't think
he'd stopped smiling at all since he'd found the zone.

"Can I show you some more?" Keene said, and at first Preston thought 'how
much more of you could there be, kid?' But he got the picture when Keene
tapped his hip and nudged him up a little more, and then the kid curled up
to meet him.

Keene took hold of his trunk securely and moved him again, moving up close
with him, that easy, liquid, powerful athleticism he'd always had in full
effect, rolling the bigger man over smoothly, not even losing his place
inside of him. Well, except for a handful of inches, but he had much more
than a handful to give anyway, more like two. He soon gave them all back to
Preston, once he had the big guy on his back, looking confident and in
control, focused as he wrapped his arm tighter round Preston's core, used
the other one to plant himself securely, then slid all the way back inside
his coach, smooth and powerful and intent.

"Fuckin' *yessssss*," Preston moaned, unable to stop himself, his big
strong legs scissoring around Keene's tight waist and squeezing, spurring
the young athlete on as he gave the man literally everything he had. His
fantastic cock touched Preston's insides in different ways now, hitting the
same places but at a different angle, stroking long and deep and confident
up into him.

Now it was Preston's turn to lay back and enjoy, let the kid show him his
prowess. By now, Keene had nothing at all to prove to him, not on the mat
and not in bed, either. This was for them, just the two of them. They knew
who each other was now, knew what they wanted and what they could give each
other. Preston took the opportunity to stroke over Keene's powerfully
muscled arms and shoulders, down his back as far as he could reach,
touching him in all the ways he'd always wanted to, but never could
before. He knew Keene could work that spectacular body, especially those
trim, athletic hips. He'd had to watch it at work a lot over the last few
years, trying to keep his eye dispassionate, professional, analytical. Now
he could enjoy it for what it was, an instrument of pleasure as well as
power, skill and finesse that ran deep.

Keene seemed to relish his attention, and he repaid the compliment with his
technique. He fucked his coach long and strong, hitting him deep and
precise, then slowed the cadence of his talented hips and worked his girth
inside the man, letting him feel all of the inches Keene had to give
him. Guys who could fuck like him at his age were rare, and Preston sure
hadn't been fucked by any of his peers like this back when he was in
college. Keene fucked him down like he was trying to make up for all that,
giving his coach the fucking the man deserved, and the fucking he deserved
himself, too.

He shifted into a slow corkscrewing grind, interspersed with thick,
slow-plunging thrusts, using the opportunity to wrap Preston up tight and
close, their eyes hot and shining and locked on each other as they leaned
in close, the silent connection between them spurring the lusty, probing
kiss that followed. Keene matched his pace to the tempo of the kiss,
Preston clutching him tighter in his powerful arms and thighs, holding him
close and deep, wishing he'd never have to let him go.

"So damn good, Coach," Keene half-whispered between wet, devouring
kisses. "So glad we're doing this."

"Yeah, me too, buddy, me too," Preston murmured back. "You're a fucking
*stud*, Keene."

"Fuck yeah," Keene grunted. "Love showing you. Making you feel good."

"Yeah you are," Preston growled back. "Real damn good, bud. So damn
fine..."

Keene kissed him with hungry heat, his hips pumping faster, his cock
driving deeper.

"Make you cum, Coach?" he rasped, and the fresh sweat made his handsome
face practically glow.

"Yeah man, yeah you're gonna make me cum," Preston moaned, and saying it
was like willing it into existence. He could feel the pleasure inside him
sharpening, peaking, and knew it was just a matter of time now. Not very
much time, either.

"Good, `cuz I'm gonna cum," Keene said, pushing himself up on arms bulging
real big with prime muscles. His voice was tight, his face starting to get
that real intent, focused, pleasure-spaced look Preston loved seeing on a
man's face. It just added to the fire inside of him.

"Yeah you are," Preston growled, spurring him on, familiar with all Keene's
levers from all these years, and pulling on them. "Gonna cum in me,
buddy. Cum in your Coach."

"Aw *fuck*, Coach!" Keene moaned, tight and urgent, his brows bunching
together, wrinkles of pleasure in his smooth young forehead. His fucking
pace escalated, hips slapping the thick meat of Preston's powerful thighs
and ass with a rhythmic, urgent *thwap-thwap-thwap*, the headboard starting
to rap against the wall behind them. "Gonna fuckin'... ah damn, here
I... *fuck*... here I fuckin' cum!"

All the muscles Preston could see on him -- and there were a lot, goddamn
-- tensed up hard, all defined and tight and powerful, bulging out all over
as he gave Preston an almost disbelieving look, powering up inside of him
of him with a short, sharp series of deep thrusts that made Preston's toes
curl even harder than they already were. He gripped the powerful bulge of
the kid's upper arms and just nodded at him, and Keene let out a low,
rolling moan that echoed loud around the room, and gave Preston what he'd
wanted almost since the day he'd first met him.

Keene looked absolutely glorious as he sat back on his heels, his torso
towering above Preston's prone form, all those beautifully honed,
hard-working muscles standing in stark relief, clad in glowing, flushed
skin. His cock was still hard inside Preston, and the man squeezed around
him without even thinking about it, making Keene gasp and shiver a little,
and throb him right back. Preston reached automatically for his own cock,
standing hard and thick and ready to blow, but he'd no sooner given it a
tight, quick stroke when Keene knocked his hand away again and replaced it
with his own.

"Let me, Coach," he said with a hungry smile, locking eyes with Preston as
he took over. He leaned in a little and shot a thick stream of spit down
onto the hard flesh in his hand, and Preston growled at the action and the
sensation. He tucked one hand up behind his head and used the other to
squeeze Keene's bulging thigh, and let the hot kid work him.

"Goddamn you look good," Keene said, his free hand traveling the thick,
furred terrain of Preston's beefy pecs and his solid stomach as his other
worked the man's cock. It was like they were following the same instinct,
trying to savor as much of each other as they could, while they
could. Nothing was sure beyond this, nothing but the two of them, in bed
together, *with* each other, right now.

But it couldn't last long, not with Keene's big young cock still hard
inside of him, with his skilled hand working Preston's dick all fast and
spit-wet and enthusiastic, not with the hot vibe still heavy in the air
between them, along with the deep, masculine sounds and scents of their
sex. Preston's hand gripped Keene's thigh tighter, feeling the surge deep
in his loins, the electricity running up his inner thighs, from his hole
and his balls and the big, stiff nips Keene was stroking and tweaking.

"You gonna cum for me, Coach?" Keene said, and the look in his eyes, like
it was the only thing he'd ever wanted, coupled with the simple intensity
of what he was saying were all Preston needed. He felt his muscles tensing,
his breaths growing shorter and shallower, his balls and inner thighs and
hole all tightening together, and nodded.

"Yeah... fuck... I'm gonna cum," he gasped. "You're gonna make me cum,
buddy."

"Fuck yeah," Keene growled, smiling excitedly, jacking him harder and
faster and giving Preston's right nip an intent tweaking rub, and at last
he was cumming, choking out a deep-chested, guttural growl as his cock
flexed in Keene's slick grip, their eyes locking hard as the first shot
blasted out from his gaping slit. More followed swiftly, thick hot creamy
jets of pent-up cum spurting across his tensing, heaving core, up into the
deep cleft between his beefy pecs, hitting the underside of his chin as
Keene grunted wordlessly at the sight and milked it all out of him, still
hard as ever inside of him as Preston's hole pulsed around his cock with
each thick shot.

"Jesus *fuck*," Preston gasped as Keene worked his load out of him, well
over a half-dozen potent spurts that hung in the hair on his face, chest
and belly. Keene just kept grinning at him, his face a mix of the pleased
pride he showed when he did well on the mat, and something altogether
deeper and manlier and more intimate, too. God, whoever got to enjoy him
from here on was going to be very lucky indeed, Preston thought, and even
in the hot afterglow of probably the best orgasm he'd had in the last year,
maybe longer, the thought still set off a sharp twinge deep inside him.

When Keene finally slid that big, spent cock of his from his ass, thick and
rubbery and gleaming with his load, the two of them slowly untangled, and
then Preston walked gingerly to the bathroom to get something to clean them
up with. Fuck, he felt thoroughly *railed*, but under the slight discomfort
of it was the deep satisfaction of being really well fucked. He hadn't had
enough of it lately, and if and when things in the world outside settled
down, he intended to go looking for it more often.

"Jesus, feels like you shot *all* your loads in me," Preston said after
wiping himself as clean as he could in the bathroom, handing Keene a damp
washcloth of his own. The kid was charmingly unselfconscious about cleaning
off his cock and the stray traces of Preston's cum from his chest and
stomach.

"I'm a pretty big shooter," he said, casually modest, and Preston had to
laugh.

"It figures," Preston said, trying not to look surprised when Keene inched
across the bed to slip an arm around him, and then press a slow, almost
tender kiss to his lips. The two of them kissed like that for a few long,
sweet minutes, deep and slow and almost soft, and it was enough to make
Preston's cock think about standing up all over again. He was pretty sure
he could feel Keene firming up again too.

"I'm really glad we did that, Coach," Keene said, and dammit if Preston
didn't already feel the regret setting in, especially when the kid called
him that. He'd gone so long sticking strictly to the rules, working hard to
walk the right side of that line. Was it all really worth it, upending his
ethics and playing fire with his career, just for a couple of sweet hours
like they'd had together?

"I am too, buddy," he said quietly, and even as he said it, he knew it was
right. "Thank you."

Keene smiled at him and kissed him again, deep and appreciative.

"Any time, Coach," he said when they parted, and Preston couldn't help but
laugh darkly.

"Not much of that left, bud," he said, stroking the young man's finely
honed flank, savoring every last touch he could get of him like this before
Keene went on his way and exited his life for good. The two of them heading
their separate ways into a weird new world, these strange uncertain times
they were all about to be living.

"Still some, though," Keene said, wrapping both arms round him and
snuggling into him in a way Preston would never have expected, but liked
very much. 'Been too long for too many things,' he thought to himself. "I
got a few days yet, and after that... who knows?"

'Who knows indeed,' Preston thought, but smiled too, feeling the tingle of
excitement at the possibilities Keene might be suggesting. He shifted
around a little so the two of them could embrace a little tighter and
closer, loving the easy, happy way Keene smiled at that.

"And besides," Keene said, stroking the still slightly sticky expanse of
Preston's solid core. "I've always had ideas about one of my coaches
fucking me, too..."

"Yeah, bud?" Preston said, feeling a hot mix of surprise and eagerness
swell inside him, and start to swell his spent cock a little more, too.

"Yeah, Coach," Keene grinned. "But we can talk about that later. For right
now, I like this just fine."

"Me too, buddy, me too," Preston nodded, and they kissed, slow and
definitely soft this time, lingering, in no rush to take it anywhere after
the hot rush of everything they'd already done. Preston held the hot young
man in his arms, and Keene held him right back. Sometimes you just had to
take these moments when they came and hold onto them while you could, and
remember that things would get better again. For everything else that was
uncertain in the rest of the world outside, all the weirdness still to
come, right here, right now, everything was just as it was meant to be, and
at last, Coach Preston felt himself finally start to relax.

*** The End ***