Football Pants

“Coach, these new football pants fit like a glove,” he said standing before me in full uniform gear, cradling a football under one arm and running his hand over the silky white, shiny spandex covering his quads. His tone was cocky. He knew, not only did they fit like a glove, they looked hot as hell molded to his tight, muscular jock legs.

I watch him from behind my desk. He flexes his quads, every muscle strand showing through the white spandex. The pants came just below his kneecaps which accentuated his smooth, tan, hard, round calves. He didn’t have to wear his jersey, but it did complete the look. I also noticed he isn’t wearing a jock or any kind of underwear. His cock lay to the right, showing its length through the tight pants. He isn’t hard or anything, but its still hot, nonetheless.

“That’s an understatement,” I say after I cleared my throat. I lean forward resting on my elbows, my hands clasped over each other in front of my mouth, hiding my bottom lip I’m biting. I’m doing all I can not to jump over the desk and attack the hot fucker.

He had been looking down, watching his hand follow the blue stripe down the side of his leg. He looks up at me with a raised eyebrow. “What? Do you think they’re too tight?” he asks in a mockingly innocent sounding voice. He’s such a fucking cock tease.

He knows damn well they pants are too tight. I knew they would be because I ordered them a size too small. I’ve been waiting for this day since I ordered them.

“I’m sure you know what I think,” I reply with innuendo.

He grins because he loves to tease me. He’s an expert at flirtation and communicating his true feelings without being obvious. We have been playing a game of cat and mouse since he joined my team. There was an unspoken instant attraction; lingering stares, the occasional touch, excuses to be close to each other.

He’s one of my best players. Arrogant and cocky as shit but with a right to be. He knows he’s good. He knows he’s hot. Most important, he knows that I think he’s hot. We’ve never came right out and talked about it but we both know.

I know his type. He’s like me. He loves it when another dude thinks he’s sexy. He craves that shit. He feeds off it. He knows if another guy thinks he’s fuckable than that’s even more flattering. He flirts with gay dudes because he likes the attention. I wouldn’t put it past him if he messes around with guys just for the power trip, the conquest of other athletic, masculine guys. You can’t get much higher on the “hotness scale” than when a dude wants to swing off your cock. Or better yet, when a dude wants to lay some pipe in your back yard.

He's got the world at his feet. He’s young, gorgeous, athletic, smart and charismatic. He’s struts around campus knowing everyone is looking at him. He loves attention. He threw me off in the beginning. I saw him for the first time, a fucking stud, tall and imposing. His body is big and ripped. His girlfriend followed him around like a lost puppy. She’s stunning, of course. They’re like fucking Ken and Barbie. I don’t even think twice about him after seeing him with her because he’s obviously straight and getting all the pussy he wants. But then our eyes met, and a jolt of electricity zapped up my spine. It’s the look. That lingering look when two dudes see each other, and the attraction is instantaneous. The eye contact never broke. Our body languages became stiff, puffing out our chests, flexing our muscles. We were feeling each other out, trying to confirm that attraction was mutual. It was very mutual.

For the next few months we kept our distance but not too far. We stole glances at one another. We smiled when one caught the other staring. Sometimes, he caught me checking out another guy and we would laugh like it was an inside joke. We both knew what the other wanted. It just had to happen at the right time.

“Turn around,” I command.

He smiles, raises his arms slightly and slowly revolves, showing off his body to me.

“Stop.” I command again when his ass comes into view. He stops. It’s fucking glorious; high and tight, dimpled on each side. That ass is bubbled out like a small shelf from his arched lower back. He isn’t wearing a jock nor underwear so no lines to mar up the masterpiece that is his ass, just smooth muscle ass encased in a tight sheath of white spandex. He flexes his glutes, showing off again.

He slyly looks over his shoulder at me, his eyes darting downward and behind and then back to me. He knows what I’m gawking at. He casually flexes his glutes again. He can’t fucking help himself.

“Perfect,” I say while never moving my eyes from his ass. It was more of a growl than anything else. If I had fangs, I would have shown them.

He keeps flashing a big white smile, perfect teeth. Fuck him. Cocky shit. He turns back around to face me. I can see the outline of his cock has become a little bigger. He puts the football down and notices himself in the mirror on the wall to the side of my desk. He poses with his side to the mirror, staring into it, running his hands over his abs and down the front of the pants, then the other side and finally points that ass to the mirror. He looks over his shoulder to see himself as he flexes that ass. He reaches back and runs his hands over his glutes, squeezing and stroking, putting on a show for me. He turns around again and does the same poses. This time he’s not only flexing his ass but his muscular calves too. He runs his hands down the front of his quads, feeling the slick material mold to his muscular thighs. He looks at me through the mirror as he flexes and feels himself up. I can tell the boy likes the way the slick material feels against his hard, muscular thighs. He’s getting into it, the way he can see every curve of muscle as if he were naked.

He turns sideways again to see his amazing ass stick out away from his body. One hand reaches back and jiggles one cheek. It jiggles like jelly until he tenses it and it turns to rock. I continue to just watch, and he continues to let me.

“Damn, I have a big ass,” he says as he slaps his ass with both hands. His ass jiggles again and then he tightens it up, showing the dimples in each cheek, the spandex moving with them. His look his devious. He’s playing with me.

“It’s all those heavy squats, Josh. They’ll do that to you. Makes it a bitch trying to find jeans that fit. Am I right?” I smile.

I have the same problem. All my pants and shorts are tight around my ass. I’ve always had a bigger muscular ass. Its from years of football and wrestling in high school and college. Working out is like breathing for me. I just do it without thinking. My body is my temple and I treat it as such. At forty-years old, I’m in my prime. I can be described as a DILF and I’ll take it. Where other guys my age have given up and gained fifty-pounds, I’m still at two-hundred-twenty pounds of solid muscle and ten-percent body fat.

“That’s no joke!” he confirms. “If they fit my waist, they don’t fit my ass. If they fit my ass, they don’t fit my waist. Thank god for stretch jeans,” he says as he continued to massage himself.

I’m fully boned sitting behind my desk. I know full well what he looks like in skinny jeans. I don’t think they are officially skinny jeans. Anything he wears looks like skinny jeans. I reach down with one hand under the desk and rub my hard cock. He smiles again. He knows what I’m doing under here but I’m not exactly hiding it. It’s too late to pretend anymore. It makes no sense to act like we don’t know what the other wants.

“It’s not like it’s a bad thing. Having a nice ass is a benefit not a curse,” I comment with a smirk. “You’ve got a nice ass, Josh. Be thankful. It’s the mark of a true athlete.”

Everything I’m saying to him is just pumping his ego even more.

He talks to me through the mirror. His cock growing in the skin-tight material.

Josh smiles. “Wait, Coach? Do you think I have a nice ass?” He winks playfully. He turns again, admiring his body, the uniform pants, the jersey. He reaches down and palms his cock through the pants, moving it to make it point up, more comfortable. My mouth is watering.

“Once again, I’m sure you know the answer,” I reply but this time my voice is low, sultry. I have no smile on my face. My expression is alpha serious. He’s poking the bear.

Josh loses his smile. I could tell his heart skipped with my last comment. Still, he’s bold. He pulls his jersey over his head and throws it aside, leaving him in a skintight, white compression t-shirt. His biceps stretching the short sleeves. His pecs straining to break free. Each individual abdominal muscle visible, the spandex molded to each one. He looks like a freaking Superboy. He continues to keep eye contact.

Josh clears his throat. “I hope when I’m your age I still look as hot as you do,” he said nervously.

My eyebrow raised. That was a forward thing to say.

“I mean, you have a sick body, coach! I’ve always wanted to tell you something,” he says quietly. “You’re such an inspiration to me, the way you take care of your body, the way you carry yourself, your alpha attitude. It’s hot,” he says as he looks down, a little embarrassed. He takes a breath and lifts the front of the t-shirt revealing his baby-smooth, cut washboard abs. He runs his hand up and down, caressing each one.

This was new territory for Josh, I think. It didn’t seem like it was easy for a guy like him to admit to another man that he found them attractive. He was used to being in charge, center of attention, the envy of all the other guys on the team. But then again, he was being very bold with me. He was flirtatious to the point of being open. But he’s such a big guy; tall, muscular, handsome with a cocky sneer that most guys would never suspect he might be into dudes. He definitely knew I swung both ways. I wanted to rail him against the wall.

His fingers move up his torso, lingering on his nipple as he pinches it. “I want you to know that all this,” he waved his hand over his body, “is because of you.”

Ok, I was wrong. He’s done this before.

That’s my boy. He wanted to please me. This is a blatant come-on and there was no turning back. He wanted my approval. He wanted to feel safe and secure even though he could hold his own. He wanted it and I sure as hell was the man to give it to him.

He turns and steps over to my office door and locks it, turns out the lights. The windows were up high and allowing in enough sunlight. I know what he was doing. He wanted the office to look vacant. He turned and walked back to the front of my desk, straight face, staring into my eyes the whole way. I had leaned back in my chair, I have my arms folded over my chest with one hand holding my chin, my thumb stroking the dimple on my chin. I still bite my bottom lip. I followed his eyes as they took in my muscular frame. The little shit is flexing his body. His quads are bulged, his abs are taught and he’s slightly bouncing his pecs. Damn, this kid knows what he’s got, and he knows how to use it.

“I think you owe me a debt of gratitude, Josh,” I say authoritatively.

This kid was going to get me in trouble. He was of age but a coach fucking around with a player could spell trouble. Earlier, I thought I was just going to ogle him, store the image in my brain then I would go home, lock myself in the bathroom and blow a load before dinner. But now, now things were about to change. I’ve put all my cards out on the table.

He walks around behind me and puts his strong hands on my shoulders and begins to massage them.

“Mmmmm...good boy,” I say as I close my eyes and feel his powerful hands kneed my knotted muscles.

“I like making you feel good. It’s my only fucking purpose in life right now.” He lowers his head, his lips next to my ear. “Use me for that purpose,” he whispers as he squeezes hard on my traps.

I open my eyes and stare ahead at the blank wall.

“Josh, you’re about to cross a very serious line. You better make damn sure you want to cross it because once you do, there is NO turning back. I mean it, boy. NO. Turning. Back.” I state firmly.

He lowered his head down, whispering in my ear. “I want you to fuck me.”

FUCK yes! He’s a bottom. Like he wasn’t making that clear, but I wanted to make sure. Oh, the feeling I just got when he said that. My erection is beyond hard. I’ve wanted this kid since the first time I saw his cocky ass swagger into my locker room. He was arrogant, conceited and liked to fight with other players. God, it was hot to watch him get riled up. More than a few times I’ve had to break up a brawl between him and some other hot-headed kid. I’m sure it was just to assert his dominance. He liked the power that came with dominating other guys like himself. The more guys he beat up, the less anyone would ever think he was gay. That gave him the balls to do something dangerous like seduce a football coach. If it went sideways, who would believe me if I were to tell anyone.

I stand up and turn face to face with the athlete. He stares me down almost like a challenge. His demeanor is telling me to bring it on, that he can take it. He isn’t ashamed of getting fucked. In fact, now, it was more obvious this wouldn’t be his first time. I suspect bottoming is his natural preference. Makes sense. He has that alpha posture and attitude; he knows that’s a turn on for a top. He’s not afraid, not insecure about his willingness to take a cock up his hole. He wants the top to know he’s willing and able and can take it like a man. He wants to satisfy a man. He wants to use his body to get a guy like me off. He wants to be ogled and stared at and told he is attractive while a dick is inside him. He’s a slut.

He blows up his chest, showing me how tough he is and that he’s worthy of my fuck. It seems he almost wants me to laugh at him, to humiliate him. I don’t. He holds the intense stare, flexing his jaw. He’s psyching himself up because he knows he is in for something rough and aggressive. It’s just what he wanted.

I put both hands on his biceps and squeezed, running my hands up and down his arms. I bring my gaze up and he is still staring straight ahead. I stare back. I make two fists and firmly push them into his pillow-like chest. He loses his balance slightly but sways back into place. He grits his teeth and clenches his jaw. I push him again, harder with both fists, more of a light punch. He steps back and then steps forward to position one. I run my hands over the smooth, tight, silky shirt over his abs. I suddenly punch harder with both fists into his chest making him stumble back a few steps, losing his balance. He catches himself and stops where he is and flexes his upper body. His arms at his side, fists clenched. Again, challenging me.

“Boy, I hope you know what you're doing.” I say as I step forward and get in his face.

His eyes flutter as he scans my face, my hair, my jaw.

“I said, I want you to fuck me,” he hisses in his deep voice. Defiant. Nice.

I stare him down like a laser. I grab his chin hard and hold it up. His eyes wide open. I lean in quick, but I don’t kiss him soft and slow. I fucking dive into that mouth at Mach speed. I have one hand latched on the back of his head. I slap his ass cheek hard with the other hand, grabbing his ass, that perfect athletic muscular ass.

He’s taken off guard by the kiss, his eyes grow wide and each hand finds my chest and he slightly pushes away. A slight struggle ensues.

I mumble, “Uh uh,” into his mouth.

He’s wasn’t going to pussy out now. He might be the kind of closet case that likes to get fucked but no kissing. Kissing would make it too personal and too gay. He didn’t want to be perceived as gay. Maybe he thought a guy like me doesn’t kiss. He is mistaken. For me, it’s almost better than sex. This time it isn’t his choice. If he wants to go all the way, I’m taking him all the way.

I smack his ass again, hard, the slap sound echoing off the walls. His body jerks as he cries out in pain into my mouth at the show of dominance. I pull him in tighter to me. I continue to rape his mouth. He begins to moan, and it sounds like he’s trying to say something, muffled into my mouth. I keep kissing and grabbing. Then his eyes slowly close. He put his arms around my neck, and he runs his fingers through my thick hair. His moans turn into whimpers and short grunts as my tongue drills into his mouth. I suck his tongue into my mouth. I open my mouth as far as it will go and cover his entire mouth as I continue to suck on his tongue.

Suddenly I stop, I let go of him and put my index finger in his mouth. He closes his lips and sucks on my finger. He knows what to do. More proof this isn’t his first rodeo. I pull my finger out and take his lower jaw into both hands.

“Open,” I command.

He looks at me, confused at first. Searching my eyes. Slowly, he opens his mouth wide and I spit into it. His head jerks back a bit while his brow furrowed. He was at a loss for what just happened.

“Swallow,” I order.

He keeps his mouth open. His facial expression was one of disbelief. I lightly smack his jaw.

“SWALLOW,” I state loudly.

He swallows. He looks down at his feet and then back to me for approval and considers what he just did. He is getting the idea now that this is not MY first rodeo either.

I smack his face again. His eyes burst open. He’s scared. I loved it.

“Open,” I growl.

I spit into his mouth again. He swallows without me telling him to.

“Good boy.”

I grab his ass again taking ownership of it as I attack his pouty lips again with my mouth.

I laugh inside because I realize that he thought I was inexperienced in man on man contact. In fact, I’ve been at this for years. I married out of college and she popped out a few ankle-biters, but I’ve always been into dudes. She doesn’t suspect anything. I’m on the downlow as are many of the guys I fuck around with. Most of them are younger but legal. But one thing remains the same with any of them, they are always masculine, muscular, athletic and hot as fuck.

I take hold of his ass and lift him off the floor, so his head is above mine. I bear-hug him as he dangles in the air, looking down at me and swallowing my tongue into his mouth. He gives a muffled yelp because he didn’t expect me to lift his two-hundred-pound solid muscle frame off the floor.

I drop him to his feet. My fingers run down the outside of his ass, feeling the silky smoothness of his spandex covered ass. My finger presses into the cloth covering his hole. I press hard. He grunts and a high-pitched muffled noise comes from his throat. I press the material into his hole, creating friction.

He’s trembling now. I pull my mouth from his. His eyes wide. I take a hold of his smooth jaw as I push him back hard against the wall. He grunts when he hits it.

“Ow!” he exclaims. He tries to talk but it was gibberish because I’m squeezing that beautiful jaw tight.

“What’s wrong, tough guy? You bite off more than you can chew?” I growl in his face.

His eyes are still wide. His face is turning red. I’m raising him so he comes up on his tip toes. His hands clasp onto my forearms. His eyes tell me he didn’t expect me to be this aggressive. He probably thought he was going to give me a blow job and get a quick fuck and be done. He was so wrong.

Keeping the stare, showing my dominance, I slide my hand down into the back of his tight football pants. My finger finds its target and without any warning, jam it in. He lets out a muffled scream, his eyes bulge, he arches his back and he raises up onto his toes again. I start to finger-bang that hole. If this boy thought he knew what he was doing before, I don't think he did now. I let go of his jaw, turn his head and push the side of his face into the wall. I’m still finger-banging his tight, muscle pussy. Every push inside him brings him up onto his toes. His back arching more and more bringing that ass away from the wall. His face to the wall, sweat on his forehead, my hand pressing hard on his handsome face, his lips smashed as he tries to make a coherent sound. By the time I was through with him, this hot little fucker was going to know a real man had been inside him.

I finger him for a few minutes, loving the sound of his moans and groans, the grunts with every push inside him. The look on his face is intoxicating for me. He’s worried. He HAS bitten off more than he could chew. He underestimated me but at the same time, he’s intoxicated with ecstasy.

Finally, I release his head from the wall and pull my hand from his pants. I forcefully grab onto his throat, pushing his head back against the wall. He looks into my eyes, a little defiant, a little turned on, mostly scared. His breathing is labored, heavy. His brow is sweating heavily.

I lower a hand to his groin and press it onto his bone. The boy is hung and rock hard, his cock pointing up inside his revealing pants. He sighs loudly and his eyes roll back a bit as I palm the underside of his erect cock.

“You still want me to fuck you, tough guy? Huh?” I taunted.

He takes a deep breath and swallows hard. “I said, I want you to fuck me,” he says with a strained voice as I’m squeezing his throat. His face is bright red and his hands are holding onto my forearms for dear life.

I smile a devious smile. “You’ve done this before, haven't you?”

He pauses but his face remains defiant.

“I knew it. So, what? You like getting men like me all worked up to fuck your tight little hole? Huh, Josh? Is that what you do with this?” I ask as I smack his ass hard.

His eyes dart to the ceiling. They linger as if he’s in thought. Then he shoots his gaze back down to me. “Are you going to fuck me or not?” he asks, cocky and impatient.

“Why should I? Who knows where this pussy has been?” I slap his ass again. “For all I know you’ve been giving this ass up to anyone who will fuck it. Am I right? Are you a slut, Josh?”

I get in his face, nose to nose. “Fucking closet case,” I say with a disgusted tone. I pause as I grit my teeth, trying to intimidate him. Then I smile.

“Hey, you into frat boys, Joshy? Huh?”

Josh is still defiant, but his eyes still give him away.

“Yeah, you are,” I say as I pat his cheek. “You getting some frat boy dick? Some drunk frat boy to fuck your pussy? Huh, Joshy? How many times have you woke up in some frat boy’s bed with his cum dripping from your fucking pussy?”

“Shut up and fuck me,” he replies with a determined tone. His voice shaking. His body trembling.

“Wow. You come into MY office and act like you’re in heat for cock and I should just fuck you because you want me to?” I ask condescendingly. “You’re worse than a hooker on a street corner.”

He’s getting mad but I don’t care. The shit I’m saying is just to degrade him and get him angry. An angry sub takes cock better. They have something to prove.

He remains silent but there is fire in his eyes.

I shrug my big shoulders. “Alright, bitch. You want it, you get it.”

I grab him by the scruff of his neck, turn him toward my desk and throw him onto it, literally.

“Shit!” he yells when he hits the desktop.

He wasn’t expecting that. I push him down flat on his chest, hike that ass in the air and push his legs apart. This starts to excite him. He reaches under to undo his football pants.

“NO!” I slap the back of his head. “Keep your faggot hands up on the desk.”

He flinches. There’s that word: Faggot. I can tell he doesn’t like that word, but he doesn’t care when I call his hole a pussy. That’s hypocritical.

I put a hand on his muscular back and push him down again. I open my desk drawer and rifle around. He’s trying to look back to see what I’m doing but he can’t. I slap on on the back of the head again.

“Eyes front, faggot,” I tell him.

I find my small Swiss Army pocketknife.

“Don’t fucking move unless you want two holes back here,” I warn him.

I open the knife and lower it down to his ass, very gently poking it through the tight material over his hole, slowly cutting a hole. As I cut, the fabric splits under the tension of being stretched by the size of his bubbled ass.

The boy is sprawled over my desk, hands out front grabbing the edge. His back is arched, ass up and his smooth spandex covered legs are spread apart like a whore at fleet week.

I rifle around again in my desk. I find a small tube of Vaseline that I keep for other such occasions like this. I squeeze some onto my finger and jam it again inside the hole I made in his pants, spearing his hole. He jerks. His head flies up and he groans. I squeeze more lube onto my finger and roughly apply it to his hole.

After I think I have it lubed up enough, I grab onto the sides of his tiny waist. I line up my cock with the hole and I slide in. The boy jerks and twists, coming up into a push-up position. He yells with jabbing pain. Luckily, my office is in the sports complex and there isn’t anyone around at this hour.

“Uh uh, tough guy. Don’t try to squirm away from me,” I scold as I grab hold of both of his arms and wrestle them behind his back. His chest and head crash to the desktop. I take each forearm, pull his arms straight back behind him and I pull as I begin to pump the football player’s ass. His triceps bulge as I pull his arms back. His head is turned sideways, one cheek smashed down on the desktop. I begin to saw in and out of his ass, slowly at first and then faster as his ass gets used to the intrusion.

He’s yelling, swearing and I’m pretty sure he is crying. My shorts are around my knees and the sounds of my abdomen thumping against his football pants as I sweat and curse and slam in harder.

“Oh god!” he repeats over and over with each thrust. He looks back at me and howls, “Oh fuck…oh fuck…fuck my hole, Coach!”

He continues to swear and grunt with each thrust I give him. Gradually his voice, hoarse, fades until there is just heavy breathing. Spit and drool pool up on the desk under his face. He is quiet now. Taking my fuck like I want him to. Finally, after a few minutes I hear a quiet, almost whining sound coming from the boy’s mouth. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” he now repeats over and over again with each thrust.

The boy just keeps repeating himself. FUCK! Either he does this a lot, or he really does have a thing for me. He’s acting as if he has found the mother fucking pot of gold. He won the damn lottery. I look down at this fucking stud, this outstanding athlete as he lays over my desk taking my cock like the pro he is at everything. I should have known. He’s excellent at everything he does, why not getting fucked? He wants nothing but what I am doing to him right now. All the training, the long practices, hours in the weight room have prepared him for this moment. He has built himself to take cock from men like me. Older, experienced, masculine, a mentor. I’m his coach. I’m his father-figure. He idolizes me and wants me to be proud of him. He wants us to be as close as possible and that means I have to be inside him. We’ve become one. He’ll have my DNA inside him, and he will thrive knowing this. It will make him train harder, tune his body like a machine, make him feel invincible. He relishes in the fact that I picked him to carry my legacies inside his gut.

I release his arms and he drags them to his sides. He can hardly breath. His adrenaline has peaked. I press my cock into his ass, all the way to the root and hold it there. I cork-screw his butt. His head is turning left to right, over and over. The feeling inside him is too intense. I pull him by the waist against me. He moans. I slap his ass. He yells. I slap it again. He yells. I can see his face as he turns it back to me. Tears flow down his cheek. His face flushed red.

I push on his ass as I pull out of him. I slap him on the ass again making him jerk. I grab his ankles and twist them making him flip around on his back. His muscles are straining, veins visible, sweat soaking the uniform. He looks up at me, almost pleading for more, yet, at the same time scared of what I will do to him. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care what I do to him, as long as it’s me doing it.

He waits with his legs floating in the air above him. It’s a natural position for him. He wants to know where I want him. What position? He’ll do anything for me. I find his ankles, grab on and split his legs as far apart as I can.

“Open up, faggot,” I growl. I look down, find the tear in his pants and I go in again. He twitches and his eyes roll back and he moans.

I hold his legs wide open. He keeps intense eye contact. His Nikes pointing up to the ceiling. His quads are flexed hard, each muscle pushing up through the white spandex, straining. He’s showing off for me. He’s flexing his quads and his calves. He knows I like that. He’s showing me how hard he’s worked for me, molding and forming his body into something I will feel is worthy of my cum. He reaches forward and grabs each ankle. I let go and run my hands down his hamstrings to that hot, hot ass. I then caress his quads. I move up to his washboard stomach, peel up the sweaty tight shirt and lick the sweat from his abs. He holds on mercifully to his ankles and pulls his legs apart even further. He’s showing me how limber he is, how loose his muscles are. He’s showing me that I have access to his hole anytime I want. His body is a temple for me, lean, strong, tight muscle. It’s what I want, and he knows it. He holds his legs out and is not embarrassed that he may look like a girl holding her legs open for her man.

I lean forward onto his chest and take his mouth with mine. We feverishly make out as I pump my cock into his chute. He holds his legs out, stiff and straight. He holds them until he can’t any longer. I feel them wrap around my waist and his heels lock, the roughness of his shoes scrapping along my lower back.

I raise my head and look into his eyes. He is enraptured by my stare. His hands come to my face and stroke my jaw, my cheek and then wipes my hair from my forehead. It’s unbelievably erotic to see such a masculine, talented athlete, cocky, arrogant and bullying, normally throwing punches, to see him giving himself to me with all that he is, kissing me, caressing me, wanting me inside him, it’s simply astounding.

My thrusts start to slow. His legs clasp tighter to my waist. We kiss passionately, almost romantically. He holds my face in his palms and peers into my eyes.

He whispers, “I’m in fucking love with you.”

I don’t know why. I don’t know how but after he said those words, my cock expands, and I unleash a torrent of my DNA inside him. My mouth wide open as I bellow, echoing off the walls. The most intense orgasm I’ve ever had in my 40 years of life. It just kept coming, exploding, filling him up with my cum. I fall on top of the boy. I thought my heart was going to explode out of my chest. He wraps his arms around my wide back and pulls me tight.

“Oh god, I’ve fucking dreamed of this happening for so long,” he pants as he slaps my shoulders three times like I’m wearing shoulder pads.

I raise my head and looked at him. “Yeah?”

“Dude, you have no idea. You know, the first day I met you, I jerked off as soon as I got home.”

“Well, I’m not going to say you haven’t been the object of some my jerk off fantasies as well.”

“Fuck yeah! All this fucking brute strength. I fucking can’t stand how much I fucking want you.”

“Let’s make you cum, tough guy,” I say as I kiss his neck.

“Oh, I already did a long ago. I wasn’t even touching myself. Coach, it doesn’t matter if I get off. I’m here to make you feel good.”

“You’re a shocker, tough guy. This all seems very uncharacteristic of you.”

“After the first time we met, I kept getting aroused when you were around me. I also noticed from time to time you were checking out guys. Your eyes seem to linger too long at times. Sometimes you would look at me from across the room and I felt a buzz up my spine. Your presence is so intimidating and dominant. I was fucking scared of you for the first month of practice. You’re fucking intense and it turned me the fuck on. I knew you were the one who could put me in my place. When you started paying more attention to me and my workouts was when I decided to just screw it and confront you. You called me here today and I knew today was the day. I remember the first time I came while thinking about you fucking me. I blew so hard, dude. I’ve never considered myself gay. I mean, I date chics but I also know I like dick but YOUR dick does something for me that other dude’s don’t. I don’t get it, but I have to be with you.”

“I’m married with kids, tough guy. Being with me doesn’t matter cuz it can’t happen.”

Josh laughed, “Yeah, I guess not.” He paused and then chuckled to himself. He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m in love with you, coach. Don’t know why, but I am. Can’t change that.”

He leans over and kisses me.

He’s serious. I’ve seen that look before and it always means the same thing. I can’t tell you how many horny closeted frat boys, butch athletes or hot twinks have taken a ride on my dick a few times and then profess their love for me. I always lay down ground rules but sooner or later, they all become little bitches and obsess over me. Then I have to kick them to the curb and lose a perfectly good piece of ass.

I’m not sure where to take this. I can’t have a love-sick jock following me around everywhere all the time. Not to mention, one of my players as well. How am I supposed to coach a kid that I just fucked? But, how tempting it is though. To have someone like him, ready at my beckon call to bend over and fuck anytime I want. I can’t fuck my wife like I fuck him. I can go all out with him; full steam and I can’t break him. I can cum in him and not worry about getting him pregnant. And he fucking loves it. I guess there is no harm in keeping a fuckboy on the side.

“Josh, we have to keep this between us. Ok?”

“YES! You’re going to keep fucking me?” he asked ecstatically.

“Can’t let anyone find out. NO ONE.”

“I’m legal, bro.”

“I know you are but it’s my job at stake. And my family is at stake too. I’m technically your teacher. Otherwise, I wouldn’t give a shit.”

“I know, I know.” he says with an eye roll. “What? You think I want the guys knowing I like getting fucked by dudes? Dude, I have a fucking girlfriend.”

I move over and sit down into my chair between his knees. Josh sits up, legs spread, cum leaking out of his ass, soaking his pants.

“This is not a game, tough guy. We fuck and nothing more. You’re my student and I’m your coach. Can’t let people think you’re getting preferential treatment.”

“No problem. I swear to fucking god, I won’t tell anyone,” Josh promises.

I growl and then kiss him.

“You’re going to need another pair of football pants, tough guy.” I point at the pool of cum forming on my desk.

He looks down, scoops up a bit and feeds it to himself. I shake my head. Fucking amazing sight to see. One of my best, bad-ass players, eating my cum off his fingers.

“Oh yeah, you’re right. Well, shit, what am I going to do with these?”

“You fucking kidding me? Trust me, you’ll be wearing these again, tough guy. You’ll be wearing them a lot. In fact, I’m going to order you a few more pair.”

“Is that my new nickname of something?”

“It fits you. You’re this big, mean, tough football player on the outside and still tough enough to take a pounding fuck from another dude on the inside.”

“Huh. I like it. Plus, you can call me that in public and people won’t know it’s a double meaning. Can I call you by your first name?”

“Only when we are in private. Otherwise, it’s as usual, Coach or Mr. Daniels.”

“Ok, coach in school and Craig when you’re balls deep in my butt.” He raises his fist to me. I oblige him with a bro fist bump.

“Just don’t call me daddy…yet.” I laugh.

“Fuck, Greg. That is so hot. Now I want to,” he laughed.

“What’s wrong with calling me Coach? Isn’t that supposed to be a kink?”

“Oh, yeah. It is. That’s what made me cum earlier. When I called you coach while you were drilling inside me.”

“Ok, that is hot, I guess,” I smile. “Ok, come clean. You’ve done this before.”

He blushes. “Yeah, you were right. I have.”

“With?”

“Um, guys like you, mostly married guys. And yes, a few frat brothers.”

“How long have you been fucking with other guys?”

“Since I was sixteen. I found out I can get what I want when let guys fuck me.”

“And what do you want from me?”

“You? You’re different. I don’t want anything from you except for YOU.”

“So, you just want me to fuck you?”

“I was serious when I said I’m in love with you.”

I gave him a tight-lipped smile and a shake of my head.

“You fucking anyone else besides me?” I ask.

He nods his head. “Yeah. A few.”

“Do I know them?”

“Yep,” he replied quickly and bluntly. “Let’s put it this way, I like wrestlers, baseball players and more than a few DILFs.”

“Got it,” I nod. Then I give him a curious look. “Blake Schumer? Colby Collins? Brian Cunningham?” An assortment of wrestlers and baseball players.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head in disbelief. “Fuck, dude. Are you fucking every hot dude here?”

“Apparently, you are,” I respond.

“I should have known you were getting into their pants,” Josh mumbles.

“I’m getting in their asses. I guess they’re all tops with you.”

“Duh,” he says. “I had no idea they were getting boned too. Motherfuckers.”

“Don’t feel bad. They just found out about each other. They were none to happy.”

“Do you fuck other guys besides these three?” Josh asks with a nervous look on his face.

“Yeah. Off and on. Mostly when we travel to away games.”

He looked confused.

“All those times I would make myself scarce after games.”

“Yeah?”

“Kid, I was laying it into some dude, somewhere. It’s the only time I can get my rocks off with another guy, safely.”

“So, all those times we couldn’t find you, you were boning other dudes? Who? I mean, where?”

“I don’t know. It was random. Sometimes a guy I met on an app, sometimes a dad of one of the players, sometimes a player…”

“So, you fuck around with other players?”

“Yeah, most are opposing team players, usually.”

“How? How do you know they are into dudes? And when do you get a chance to scope them out.”

“How did you know I’d be into dudes? It’s that look. I know who the hot players are in the conference. I know all the coaches. There’s always an excuse to visit other schools, hang out with the coaches. Some are in the know, on the DL too. Sometimes one of my coach friends, in the know, will have a similar situation going with one of his athletes, like you and me. They’ll lend the player out to me while I’m visiting, or we make arrangements to fuck after a game.”

“Wow. So, you’ve been doing this for a while?”

“I’m twice your age, tough guy. I’ve had a lot of time to get good.”

“So, are you planning on “lending” me out?” he laughs.

I laugh. “Yes.”

Josh flinched in shock.

“Hey, you want to hang with the big dogs, you follow the rules,” I said with a shrug. “Ask Blake and Colby. They’ve been lent out. They always came back happy.”

“But, I didn’t think…”

“Hey,” I interrupted him, “you either put out or get out. I owe my buddies for all the times they hooked me up with some hot kid like you. If they knew about YOU and I didn’t let them get a shot at your ass, I would be on all their shit lists.”

“Craig, I need to process that. I mean, I’m not a whore.”

I laugh. “Sure, you are. You whore yourself out to get what you want. That’s the same thing as taking money for sex.”

Josh was getting angry. I could tell by the look in his face he was uncomfortable. Now, I probably will never lend him out, but I want him to think I will. I want full control and he needs to know he’ll never be in control.

“Hey, you can fuck anyone you want, tough guy. Well, I mean get fucked, I guess.”

He searched my eyes for some kind of commitment. He would find none.

“Craig, dude, I told you, I’m here for you. Yeah, I like to fuck around but it’s you that does it for me.”

“Look, I get it. You have daddy issues, tough guy. Trust me, all you boys have daddy issues and you’re the ones I like to fuck.”

“Craig. I don’t want you to fuck other guys, but I know I can’t stop you. It just pisses me off, maybe I’m jealous.”

Here we go. This is what I feared. I should put this fire out now.

“Whoa, wait, tough guy. We’re not married and we’re not…fucking…boyfriends. I told you I fuck who I want and when I want. You got that, tough guy?”

He scooted off the desk and picked up his jersey. “Fine.”

Great, now he’s pouting.

“What, now? Damn, you’re worse than a woman.”

Josh turns to me.

“Do you get what I did for you? I took everything I thought I knew about myself and fucking threw it out the window. I have never felt this way about anyone in my life and I just spent the last hour on my fucking back getting my ass fucked like a drunk sorority girl. I thought you would be impressed. Why do you need other guys to fuck when you have me? You can have me any fucking time you want. You don’t need anyone else. God, I’m fucking in love with you, asshole!”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

“Come here.” I point to the spot in front of me.

He shuffles over to the spot. I stand up, take his face in my hands and kiss him on the lips.

“I appreciate what you’ve done. You took a big leap. I’m fucking psyched I get to fuck you all the time but you’re getting emotional and you need to cut that shit out. You’re a man, not a girl. I don’t fuck guys like that. I fuck men. I guarantee you; I will fuck the shit out of you all the god damn time. I’m your coach and your mentor and now the guy who bones you. You fuck who you want, and I fuck who I want. That’s the end. Period.”

His face became slack. He realized he wasn’t going to win. He smiles.

“Sorry, Craig. I don’t know what happened. I was acting like some stupid bitch. Of course, we can fuck whoever.”

Poor kid was trying to act brave, but his sadness was too obvious. I can’t help it. I can’t let this fucking hot, tight assed, boytoy jeopardize my career and marriage. Even though I’m into guys, I do love my wife. I have a shitty way of showing it. If she knew all the ass I was fucking, it would be the end of everything. But Josh, this kid could ruin me. He’s a fucking keeper. I could see myself with him for a long time.

Maybe it would make me jealous to see him with another dude. I must admit, I would love to watch the hot little fucker get spit roasted by two big muscular athletes. I’ll just have to take it day by day or fuck by fuck.

I laughed. “You’re not a bitch but feel free to be one when I’m fucking you, tough guy.” I wink.

“You make me do and say things I never thought I would ever do or say,” Josh spread his legs farther apart.

“It’s in your DNA, tough guy,” I say as I reach in between his legs and find his hole with my fingers. I insert them and watch him jump. I swish them around in my fresh cum. I pull two fingers out, dripping with cum. “You’re were meant to be some dude’s cumdump. It’s who you are.” I raise my fingers to his mouth. He receives them and licks my fingers clean before sucking on them. It makes my cock hard. “Don’t fight it, Josh.”

He moans around my fingers. Fuck, he’s so fucking handsome. Seeing him suck on my fingers like a porn star has my heartrate soaring.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to slide that ass to the edge of my desk and I’m going to slide inside you. I’m going to fuck your tight, muscular, football player ass. I’m going to dump another load in you and your going to hold it in until you get home.”

Josh nods his head with a grin as he scoots forward and opens his thick muscular legs wide and it makes my cock twitch.

“Mmm, that was really slutty what you just did. I fucking love a slutty, horny football player eager for my fuck.”

“Get used to it, Coach. I can be as slutty as you want.”

“Promise?”