Date: Sun, 1 Jan 2023 22:23:41 +0000 From: Dod Kelevra Subject: Football Boys and Chosen Family Chapter 1 Disclaimer: The following is a story of a homosexual nature and is sexually suggestive, if not explicit. Please do not read if you are a minor or if it is illegal where you live to do so. Remember to think smart to play smart. Use protection and get vaccinated. Help the Nifty Archive continue to provide a home for erotic fiction. Consider donating by going to http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html. Thank you. Football Boys and Chosen Family Chapter 1: A New Start Everything was new, like someone hadn't taken the plastic off. The movers had dropped the brand-new furniture right where I wanted it, and my few boxes with even fewer belongings were scattered in between. It was as if god decided to make the heaviest-handed metaphor he could: a chance for something new. Some new plant had opened up and brought an influx of people wanting to start a new life, like my new foster parents. They had recently gotten married and wanted to "test drive" kids while also giving us in bad situations a loving home. They definitely tried to do that. Moving out here was something everyone agreed on, even me. I would be starting high school anyway this year, so a clean break from the chaos of the past was welcome. That's how I ended up with my foster dad Blake on this dusty parking lot spotted with tents to register for the first ever year of Paul Lorence High School. No, that wasn't a typo. The school was a construction site; the parking lot and athletic fields were finished over the summer with the administration and first set of classrooms getting ready for the first day. There were also some portable trailers for classrooms that weren't done yet. Quite a literal new start. Blake was excited for a few reasons as we stood in that first line to register me as a student. On the long drive from the city, I told him and Maria how I wanted to play football growing up, but we never had the money for the fees or equipment. Most of what I learned how to play was via video games at friends' houses and playing keep away during recess. But what I learned was how to run and how to take a hit, something Blake had seen a few times when we met at the group home. Blake was excited because one of his old buddies had also moved out to be the football coach and head of the physical education and athletics department. Apparently, he had pulled from their old fraternity for baseball, basketball, and wrestling. I think Blake wanted me to play football to relive some glory days vicariously through me as much as he wanted to be a supportive dad. I was ok with that trade-off for a warm bed, three meals, and living without fear. A disarmingly nice, red-headed woman took all our paperwork to enter me into their system. She asked me the usual questions to verify who I was, name, date of birth, parents' names... ... Yeah, that one I got stuck on. Technically my current situation is temporary until my mom divorces my dad. But we are on year 3 of this saga, and he's only gotten worse. The last straw was him hitting me with a bat after having a friend help me change bandages from a previous outburst of rage from him... Blake must have seen the change in me because he just put his arm around my shoulder and started answering for me. Blake is a touchy guy, not in a creepy way, but in a slap you on the shoulder or put his arm around you and make you one of the boy's kinda ways. At first, I recoiled every time he touched me, but I had gotten used to his methods of affection. One of the sheets he had handed the lady had all the necessary documentation from DFACS, but that was not something I was used to or even able to deal with. A responsible adult figure tasked with MY care, who would have thought? After the last five years, definitely not me. The lady handed Blake his paperwork folder back, gave me a folder of my own, and said we could sit on the picnic tables in the center of the tent semicircle until I was done filling it all out. "Blake Revera, you old son of a bitch, I thought that was you," I heard shouted after I had just sat down. I turned to face where the voice had come from and was greeted with a face full of man crotch covered by an extremely thin layer of thin nylon. When I looked up, Blake and this unknown figure were grinning and shaking hands like they knew each other well. "Justin, this is John Estes; we went to college together. How you been, you dirty fuck!" "Living the dream. Heading up the athletic department here and am the head coach for football. Building a program from the ground up as long as I can get bodies to fill the spots. This yer boy you were tellin' me about?" "That's him, grown about an inch in the month he's lived with us." "Amazing what three meals a day and a full night of sleep can do," I interjected, pushing my hand to meet Coach Estes in an uncharacteristic show of confidence. Coach Estes grabbed my outstretched hand. "Firm grip," he said to no one in particular. He held my hand with his right while feeling my arm up with his left. "Strong lean muscle. Justin, I hope you will join the football team and think about wrestling or baseball in the spring. You have a strong lean build now; I would love to work with ya and get you running fast with enough muscle that the hits don't hurt, and I know Brian would love to get you wrestling with him. But it's up to you, kiddo. I'll let you get back to that paperwork," he said as he let go of my hand. When I said I was open to sports, I meant trying out. I didn't know the first thing about wrestling, but hey, new start. Coach Estes was talking like I was on the team if I wanted it. It felt like it was too fast, too easy. I flipped through my packet; the first page was class electives for extracurriculars. Apparently, to do football or any sport, I had to take a class called "advanced anatomy and physiology" along with it, which is why they wanted me to do a fall and a spring sport. It was the same with other extracurriculars. For drama, you had to take theater, for marching band, band, etc. I filled out my sheet, taking algebra, chemistry, health, English, advanced anatomy and physiology, and physical education. I was hoping to take an art class when another one of the coaches sat down next to me. "You know, if you are on a team, you don't have to do PE. In case you wanted to do a different class. Advanced anatomy counts as your PE credit." I turned to look at him and took his outstretched hand. "Brian, I guess Coach B now. I teach PE, Biology, and I coach wrestling." "Funny, I was just told to wrestle for you by Coach Estes, but I don't know the first thing about it." "Relax, it's all freshmen-only teams cuz this year it's a freshmen-only school. It's all fundamentals. But if we get some muscle in your frame and get you some good techniques, I think we can build a good foundation." "You sure about that, coach?" I had nothing in my history that said I could wrestle. The closest I'd come to is fights with my dad or horsing around with guys at school or the group home. Nothing that says natural wrestler material. But I had nothing that said I had natural football or good student material. Hell, I wanted to do an art class; the closest I'd come to art was having my drawings thrown away in preschool. Coach B just stared at me and said, "yeah kid, I think you will do just fine," and walked back to the table under the blue tent where Blake and the coaches were huddled, talking and collecting the blue forms. I sat there looking at my paperwork and re-reading everything--a new start. I crossed off PE and put in `intro to art.' I returned my sheet to the lovely red-headed lady, who ensured I did everything right while keying it into the laptop in front of her. "Ok, Justin, go ahead and take that blue sheet to coaches over at the sports table, and you should be all set! We will call your parents if we need anything else." God, I hoped not. But I knew she meant Blake and Maria, so I didn't freak out. "Hey Blake, looks like yer boy is headed back," I could hear Coach Estes saying while I made my way to them. I needed Blake's signature, and I figured him giving my sheet to Coach B and Coach Estes would be a nice gesture for him. "You took my advice, kiddo," Coach Estes said. "Might as well try it," I said with as much confidence I could muster, significantly less than before. "It's good to see. Blake here will get you sorted. Glad to have you as part of the family, Justin. We will call yer dad if we need anything else this week. Should get a call this weekend letting you know yer on the team and what you need for the first conditioning." Part of me melted. I looked around at all the other people. A steady stream of people moving around doing all their paperwork. More than I would expect for a brand new school that wasn't even done being built. Maybe everyone here was looking for a new start, a place to make their own traditions and start something new. Blake took my shoulder after finishing his goodbyes and we walked to the truck. I hopped into the passenger seat and was about to pull out my phone to play a game when Blake stopped me and locked eyes with me. "I'm proud of you. You know that, right?" "I think? To be honest, it's all new to me." "It's ok; it will take time. Until then, I'm going to tell you on the regular every time you do it. You impressed your future coaches, and other than one moment, you showed off newfound confidence. I couldn't be prouder of you." He tussled my hair and started the truck, letting his right-hand rest on my knee after putting it in gear. The drive home was uneventful, if not a little strange. I'd never had much close contact with any other guys. My dad thought hugs were weak and other affection was worthy of abuse. It was going to take getting used to this much touch. I have to say that without the fear of getting hit, it didn't feel bad. I put my hand on his arm, and he rubbed my leg and smiled at me. This really was a new start for me. Maria had lunch ready for us when we got back. Everyone was all smiles, even me. My uncertainty about all of this started to evaporate as Maria and Blake excitedly discussed my going to school. "You signed up for a heavy class load Justin; I hope you understand we aren't going to play when it comes to your academics," Maria said, sitting next to me on the barstools at the kitchen counter. "Especially if you want to keep up with sports," Blake added before taking a bite of his sandwich. "But you are a smart kid. No college or school is going to care about your middle school GPA. We are here to help whenever you need it. You start here and do well; we are here for you," she told me while holding my hand across the bar. Again id gotten to where I didn't recoil from the physical affection but still wasn't quite used to it. It felt different between Maria and Blake. I know she meant to calm me, but it added to my sense of being overwhelmed. "So I didn't want to pry, but how many pairs of pants, shirts, socks, underwear, and all that did you pack? I know you have been doing a fair amount of laundry, and we appreciate it, but do you have enough clothes for school?" Maria asked. Both of their eyes looked at me with a seriousness I'd only seen a few times. No matter my answer, I knew I was in for an afternoon with Maria trying to take care of me, so I decided to be honest. "I have two pairs of jeans, only one with no holes. A few shirts, two in good shape, and a few not so much. I made my torn-up sweatpants into shorts so I could work out, but I'm going to need shoes; these are falling apart and starting to get tight in the toes...." Maria stood up and got her purse off the kitchen table. After looking through her wallet, she returned, set it on the counter, and sat back on the barstool. Blake spoke first, "I'm guessing you and Justin are making a shopping trip." "Unless he wants me to shop for him. I think he would look good in pink polo shirts and boat shoes, don't you? Maybe even some tweed," she said, smiling at me. I almost choked on my sandwich. One of the other foster parents at the group home came in one day, and I joked with Maria that he looked like he was lost. He should be on his yacht, not at a group home looking to foster. "I think I'm down for some jeans and decent shirts. Maybe some running shoes...." Maria looked like a kid in a candy store. She got her start helping decadent divorcees find new personal styles to give themselves new starts after their husbands. She worked as a brand image consultant for various companies in town. Now she was going to help me get a new start after... everything that happened. I finished my sandwich and put my plate in the dishwasher. Maria was tapping her keys on the counter, excited to get a move on. Blake hugged me, whispered to me, "good luck, kiddo," and pushed me out of the kitchen. I got into Maria's car and drove off to the mall. She talked a mile a minute about how excited she was, how good I would look and feel, and how this was an excellent external validation of everything we had worked on the last month. She hadn't stopped talking by the time we parked. We walked into the mall, and she asked me, "where to first?" "I don't know; I've never bought clothes at a mall before." "Ok, let's try a few stores then. You are the right age for them." We walked into a store called Pacsun, and immediately the guy behind the counter knew Maria, "Hi Mrs. Rivera, we have a style and size list today?" "Hey Tony, we don't. We have a live one. Justin, this is Tony. Tony, this is my foster son Justin. He's not sure of his style, so I thought we could start here, mainly cuz I know you can help" Tony and I nodded as they grabbed a few different shirts and put them in my outstretched arms. "Hey Justin, what's your waist size?" "I'm not sure; these are 30s I think" "Ok, I'm going to give you a few so you can try different fits." Four pairs of jeans were added to the stack. "Try the jeans first; let's get that sorted, then we can fit the shirts," Tony said, leading me to a dressing room. These jeans were nicer than I was used to. They fit my legs loose while still showing off some shape. They made slight bumps when I put my phone and keys in the pockets. Tony opened the curtain and asked what I thought. "I mean, they are comfy. Is this how they are supposed to fit?" I asked with genuine confusion. "They look good; we can go tighter and looser depending on what you want. But we also don't have to do that today." He grabbed a t-shirt and a long sleeve button-up shirt "go ahead and put the t-shirt on, then the button-up over, and we will see if that works." He stepped back out and talked with Maria while I changed shirts and slid the button-up over the t-shirt. I stepped out of the dressing room, and Maria looked at me excitedly. Tony walked me to the mirror and asked what I thought. I looked... good? The sleeves were bothering me, and I couldn't figure out what to do with them. "You can roll them, long fold, or just button them down," Tony said, watching me fidget with the sleeves. He then showed me how to roll and fold them while Maria got a few more t-shirts and button up's. With my sleeves folded, I really liked the look; Tony and Maria looked proud of themselves. "Ok Justin, toss what you are wearing on the pile so we can get out of Tony's hair." I returned to the dressing room and took off all the new clothes. I was standing in my underwear when Tony opened the curtain "oh, sorry bro. Maria is just wondering if I can start ringing her up yet..." he said, breaking off as he stared at my body. My undersized briefs left little to the imagination, which got Tony's imagination going. I handed him the folded pile of clothes and stood there in just my underwear. "If you need anything bro, you let me know. Or stop by," he said, almost in a trance. "Will do, bro," I said, matching his name for me while reaching for my shirt and ratty jeans. He watched me for a minute as my cock throbbed in my underwear before Maria asked if everything was ok. The attention was clearly getting to me as my teenage dick got hard as a rock. "I'm good, Maria, just couldn't get the sleeve off," I said, winking at Tony. Maybe Maria was right about the clothes and confidence. He took his cue and returned to the register while I got back into my old clothes. "Ok, and with all your accrued points, the total comes to $247.22," Tony said as I walked up. "Maria, there's no way...." "Sush. You need it." She shot back at me "But it's so much...." "And you need it. Your clothes are falling apart." The receipt was printing as I realized I'd lost the fight. She made me carry the bags while we went to other stores to round out my new style. We finally ended at a shoe store when Maria said, "You said you wanted a pair of running shoes, and then you need some just every day going to class shoes. Go ahead and pick some out while I look at some other stuff, ok." I moved through the section finding a few pairs I liked. But they were so expensive. I kept gravitating towards two pairs but would walk away and look at cheaper options. I also had no idea how this worked. There wasn't a stack of boxes underneath for me to find my size, and all of my confidence was gone after watching Maria drop a ton of money on me today. "Can I help you, Sir" a cute guy a few years older than me stepped up saying. "So I don't know how to do any of this," I said quietly to him. He chuckled to himself, "tell me what shoe you want and what size, and I'll bring them to you." "Can I get these in an 8?" "Sure thing" I felt Maria walk up behind me "those weren't the ones you were eying." "No, but they are...." "If you say cheaper, Blake will make you do push-ups in the garage until you can't anymore. Get the ones you want, Justin. Otherwise, I'll get him to get them for you and make you try them on." "Yes, ma'am." When he returned, I also asked for the two I had been looking at. Maria came over "looking good. Do you feel right in them" "Yeah" "So let's get them. I got a few things at the counter myself, so after this, wanna call it a day?" "Sounds good" The cute boy winked at me as I handed the forbidden word pair back to him and thanked him for his help. Maria was finishing paying when I got to the register, so we just walked out of the store with several bags in tow. As we walked to the car, I could feel my emotions bubbling inside me. By the time we put the bags in the trunk, I was crying. Maria just stepped up and hugged me. "All of this was worth it to see that spark of confidence when you came out of that dressing room. When you start school in clothes that you are comfortable in with a house without fear, you will be unstoppable." "But..." "But nothing. If you really think it's too much, you pay me back by being a star football player, a star wrestler, and come back from school with good grades and get into a good college." "I... I'll try, ma'am." "Good. Let's get home; you have a lot of new laundry to do," she said with a smile. That night I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. "Justin, it's 8:30, wake up or conditioning will wreck you next week." Maria had my best interests at heart. Unfortunately, that meant she bought an insanely comfortable bed for me. I only had unpacked my clothes box to mix in with my new clothes, choosing to spend my time either with my new foster parents or in this comfy bed. It's incredible how much you can sleep when you aren't trying to protect yourself. I still had to leave the closet light on, in any case... "Come on, bud, get a move on. You have some chores to do today while we are at work," Blake added. Ugh. The problem with responsible caregivers is that they are responsible caregivers. I might be used to neglect and squalor, but my new parents wouldn't allow it. As much as I wanted to lay in bed, it would start to be disrespectful if I didn't get up. I rolled out of bed, pulled on my cut-off sweat shorts and a tank top, and stumbled out of my room. Today was the first day both Blake and Maria were going back to in-person work since I moved in with them. They took the last month doing work-from-home days to allow me to acclimate without being alone. With three and a half weeks before school started, they figured I should start getting used to them being gone at least a few days a week. "Well, look who decided to grace us with their presence," Maria joked. "Morning," I managed to say while rubbing sleep from my eyes and briefly forgetting where everything in the kitchen was. "We wanted you to be more awake for this, but we gotta get on the road, kiddo. There's a list on the fridge of chores. Pick two or three to get done today. There is stuff in the fridge for lunch. Call us if you need, and please don't burn the house down; it's new." Blake said while moving towards the door. "Have fun at work" was all I could manage before they were out the door. I debated going back to bed, but Maria was right; football conditioning started at seven, and when school started, morning conditioning was at 6:30. If I was going to get used to that, I might as well get started with that now. I poured myself the last of the coffee out of the pot and made myself a bowl of cereal. Standing at the counter, I looked at my foster parent's chore list. Most of it was simple stuff, mop kitchen floors, vacuuming the bedrooms and hallway, wash any accumulated laundry. There was one task that felt particularly pointed, however. Empty all cardboard boxes in your room. They wanted me to unpack. They wanted me to put in sweat equity. They wanted me to make this home. I sat there drinking coffee Maria would scold me for drinking in a house they paid for, and they told me to make it home for myself. It was too much. I went back to my room and grabbed my running shorts and shoes. I need to burn off whatever this emotion was. It was still early enough that I could chase the morning's cool before the heat set in. Before I left, I realized I didn't have a key to lock the door. I remembered Maria saying something about a backup key in the everything drawer, so I looked there first. Inside was a house key taped to a note: "Thought you would want to run after the chore list. Here's your key to the house. This isn't a spare. It's yours. Don't forget water, and don't push too hard." Fucking Blake and Maria. Part of me wanted to go to bed just out of spite, but for what? Listening to me when I said I like to run when I'm overwhelmed or that I'm scared to unpack because the kids who did at their foster homes always came back to the group home in a few weeks. Stupid fears. But knowing they are dumb doesn't change how they feel. Fuck it. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and walked out, using MY key to lock the door. I stared out from the porch at the sea of almost identical large single-floor houses with green lawns and freshly planted sticks for trees. The heat of late summer was starting to brown the grass where the sod seams had been. The concrete was still almost white, having only seen a few bouts of rain all summer, I set off, turning left onto the sidewalk at the end of the driveway. No phone, no music, just me, my thoughts, and the rhythm of my feet hitting the concrete. Up ahead, I saw my goal, a small park built into a grove of more significant older-growth trees, a section of the old forest that wasn't clear-cut when the subdivision was built. Ahead I saw another person trying in vain to beat the heat by running in the late morning. He was running towards me in the shade of the trees, glistening with sweat, when he passed through a sunbeam. His bright blue shorts stood out from the massive frame of tanned skin covered in a carpet of black hair. I slowed my run to a jog to take in his features from a distance. When he finally got close enough for me to make him out, I was shocked to see it was Coach B! I was so distracted by the chest and legs that I didn't notice the face. He turned onto the trail into the park before me, but we were going to the same place. Maybe I could follow him on a good running trail I could use somewhat regularly to burn off emotions. I turned into the park and followed about 50 feet behind him on the windy path. I kept pace, but the turns got more extreme, and eventually I lost sight of Coach B around one of the turns. I looked around and saw a small side trail and heard some cracking twigs down it. Maybe it was a shortcut or some special place? I slowly moved down the side trail, careful not to step on twigs or make too much noise in case I came across something and needed to get out fast. Instead, I saw Coach Bs hairy back with his arms above his head. As I got closer, I could see his shorts were pulled down, showing off his furry cheeks and dark-haired trench. Watching his ass, it almost seemed like he was thrusting into something. I continued my approach, trying to be as stealthy as I could. Coming closer, I saw a hand grab Coach Bs side. I realized there must be someone in front of him, which means... Holy Shit! I wanted to run. I had to get away from this. If my dad found out, he would beat the shit out of me! Only, no, no he wouldn't. I'd have to face Blake. Oh god, Blake's fucking friend from college is in front of me getting a blowjob, and I'm creeping on him. Oh fuck, they are going to send me back to the group home. No one wants to adopt a creeper who gets hard at the sight of other dudes. My panic crested and intersected with a wave of fuck it. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? If I was already going back to the group home, I was going to see a blowjob in real life. I slowly moved around to Coach's side until I could see his thick cock sliding in and out of this stranger's mouth. His furry pelt on his front ending just as the thick meat jutted out from his muscular body with heavy nuts battering the stranger's chin. I must have stared for a minute because when I followed his body up, I saw Coach B staring at me with an evil grin. Even though I knew I was going to be going back to the group home, getting caught was still absolutely terrifying. I was a deer in the headlights, petrified. I slowly crawled back towards the side trail when Coach said, "it's ok, come closer." I froze in place and saw that grin. He kept motioning me over until some of the courage I showed yesterday showed up to take a couple of steps forward. He motioned me over, and like a sailor called by a siren to my doom, I made my way over to their lurid display. As I got closer, Coach B grabbed the cocksucker's head and started to fuck his throat more forcefully. Coach smiled and me as I got closer "he's really fucking good sport!"This might be the hottest thing I'd ever seen in person. I could feel my cock throbbing in my running shorts, the thin material hiding nothing of my predicament. When I came astride Coach B, he used his right hand to lift my shirt. I started to panic. It was one thing to watch, but to participate? They would hang me in the town square! There was no way I could do this, not here. I started to take a step back. "It's ok Sport, I promise. I got you. Come here and take yer and toss it on mine," he said in a low rumble that was hard for my brain to argue with. I took a step forward and took off my shirt, tossing it on his. I stood to Coach's right and watched the cocksucker devour his thick unyielding meat. "You ever see something like this Sport," he said to me in a low guttural tone. "No sir," I responded, my voice cracking. The cocksucker looked to see my shirtless body and tenting shorts while feeding on coaches somehow even more solid meat. Coach B reached out and put his arm around me, pulling us side by side, sweat mingling where our skin touched. The cocksucker reached out to feel the tent in my shorts while Coach took my shirt out of my hands and tossed it into the pile with his. With his other hand, he held the cocksucker's head still and worked his meat slowly and entirely in and out of his throat. "You can take yours out too if ya want," Coach told me. He could feel my hesitation and squeezed me a bit tighter. "It's ok; I got you Sport; drop your shorts and let this slut take care of your bone," he said, almost whispering in my ear. I slowly worked my shorts down over my butt and legs with one hand. When my boner popped free of my shorts, I immediately felt the cocksucker's hand. As his fingers wrapped around my throbbing bone, I swore I could feel every ridge of skin on his hand. It was as if my cock was being charged with electricity as my legs and arms shook, overwhelmed with sensation. "First time?" Coach growled into my ear. "Only.. person.. to play.. with it.. is me.." I choked out between labored breaths and moans. The cocksucker pulled off Coach's meat and started to work his mouth around mine. The cocksucker's grip on my hips held me steady as he worked his way down to my root. Fireworks went off behind my eyes, and I might have lost control of my legs for a moment. Time stopped. I was vaguely aware of the fur rubbing my arm as Coach worked to hold me up.    A fire burned in my balls as I grabbed the cocksucker's head and began to fuck his throat. No idea what I was doing; I just needed to feel that tongue and lips ride the edges of my cock. Each time thrusting in, feeling the exquisite warmth, wet, with a bit of tension in his lips. Pulling back out, it felt like he was trying to milk out my soul. I drove my teenage meat deep into his throat, shoving the cocksucker's nose into my pubes. My head must have popped into his throat as I once again became a slave to the electric sensation coming from my cockhead. I did it repeatedly until the cocksucker tapped my hip, I assumed tapping out of the throat fuck. I pulled out for a second, admiring my teen meat glistening with throat slime. The cocksucker dove back down onto my cock with gusto after just a second of catching his breath. Coach had moved behind me while I was lost in sensation. I could feel his pelt of hair on my back and his thick meat sliding between my buns as he grabbed my hands and kept them on the cocksucker's head. His sweaty furry body slid into contact with my hairless back, his arms wrapped around my chest while he looked over my shoulder at my insistent teenage hog disappearing into this stranger's throat. I could feel Coach's meat pumping out a stream of something warm and sticky on my lower back while the sweat and heady atmosphere began to get to me. My eyes began to glaze over as I drove my meat into the warm wet confines of this cocksucker's throat. "Feels good, doesn't it" coach whispered into my ear, almost licking it. I could only moan in response. I could feel Coach's dick let out another burp of that sticky stuff on my butt before he let me go and came to my side again. He grabbed the cocksucker's head, pulling it off my meat and onto his. He put his hands above his head while the cocksucker jammed Coach's meat into his throat. I stroked my spit-soaked bone, watching that hairy meat slide in and out. The mix of sweat and sexual energy really did have me high on something. My face made its way to leaning on Coach, and with his hands and arms up meant, my face hit his pits. Immediately it was as if my brain had short-circuited. All I cared about at that moment was stroking my dick and breathing in whatever drug was in Coach's pit. I looked up at Coach to see him looking back down at me with a grin. "Go ahead sport, lick it. It's ok, I promise. Let go and have fun." I put my tongue out and tasted the mix of salt and... something. Something that made me dive in for more. I could feel my balls tighten as I buried my hairless face into that hairy armpit. I was so focused, and frankly high, on the rush that it took a minute to realize Coach's meaty hand gripped the back of my head. He pulled me out of his pit and looked me dead in the eyes. "God damn boy, when I say let go, you really let go!" He let go of my head, and I dove back into that pit. "Damn boy, these pits are gonna be your new favorite, aren't they?" My fist must have been a blur because I was too far gone when I realized I was about to cum. I was moaning deep into Coach's pit when I felt that first shot erupt out of the head of my cock. Almost instantly, I was overwhelmed as the cocksucker dove into my twitching and spraying teen meat to devour the nectar it was spraying. Coach had to grab my body with his right arm while his left was moving with a quickness up and down that fat meat. I lost all control of my muscles, and my entire body was twitching. I must have pumped at least ten shots down the cocksucker's throat, plus the first that painted his face. He pulled off my meat and opened his mouth to show some of my load still there before swallowing it. "Damn, son? You always shoot that much" "Dunno sir, only jacked off a few times and only ever shot once, but that was just a dribble," I answered while catching my breath in his pit. "Well, let me show you what a normal load for me looks like," he said between labored breaths. Coach's entire body was flexing, including his arm around me, pulling me tighter into him. His first shot hit the cocksucker on the other cheek before the rest shot directly into the cocksucker's mouth and throat. Once Coach was done shooting, the cocksucker again showed the size of the load before swallowing. Coach disentangled our bodies and pulled up his shorts. I took that to mean to do the same. The cocksucker looked at me and said, "thanks for letting me be your first," before moving deeper into the woods. Coach handed me my shirt and water bottle. I threw my shirt over my shoulder and cracked open my water bottle to take a drink. "What's got you out so early?" "Blake and Maria want me to unpack and gave me a key. Now I guess ill be going back to the group home." Coach looked at me, confused. "What makes you say that?" "No one wants to adopt a deviant," I said, voice steady with resignation. "Trust me; Blake is not going to care one bit. Maria might, but she will just tell you to stop coming here. You aren't going anywhere, trust me," he said with a firm grip on my shoulder, staring into my eyes. "But..." I said, trying to argue "No buts! I've known Blake for a long time now. If anything, he's gonna be proud of that fuckin massive load you shot and your fat hog. You are exactly where you need to be sport. Trust me." I just nodded. Everything my parents had told me was falling away. Coach still liked me even though my face was covered in his sweat, and I had just done carnal acts with another guy. I could feel my fear start to evaporate. "Well, how are you feeling now." "I think I just let all my feelings out through my nuts," I said with a smile. "Atta boy," Coach said while tussling my hair. I took another drink of water as I slowly followed Coach back to the main trail. When we got there, Coach just looked at me and said, "you probably want to jog back home. If I know Estes yer gonna have some extra "conditioning" starting this week, you wanna be rested up for." He even did the finger quotes for conditioning. It made me think more stuff like this would be in store. Before I could respond, Coach smacked my ass and started jogging back on our original path. I decided to take Coach's advice and head home. I had some boxes to unpack and dishes to wash.