As mentioned previously, this series is inspired by actual events that happened to me, but it is only about 50% true. Many details I don't remember and just filled in the details/dialogue so it'd read like my fiction stories.
I felt a calloused hand wrap around my neck. Coach was now choking me firmly while fucking me with long, hard strokes. His free hand wrapped around my leaking, pathetically throbbing cock.
I moaned and screamed in pleasure and submission. “Oh my fuck! Pleaseeee….yeah please…coach fuck me…yeah USE me!!! Oh goshh yeah…I love it…yeah…I’m your little bitch boy…fuck my virgin pussy.”
My submission must’ve seriously turned Coach on because he began fucking me as hard as he could. He spat on me again, and stopped choking me, but continued to stroke my cock. He struck a bicep muscle pose with one arm, showing off his perfect physique to his new bitch.
I was completely and utterly conquered. Dominated. Defeated. Owned. And I loved every moment of it.
I shot my second load of the day, letting my new master milk my cock dry. Duncan appeared to swell with pride at making me cum twice “Yeahhhhh, boiii. That’s right, squirt all over yourself. Can’t hold it in, can you?”
He smeared my cum all over my own face and then held me down by my face as he continued fucking me into the ground, hard and fast. I was completely spent, and just lay there passively as the muscle-bound decathlete palmed my cum-coated face and plowed my no-longer-virgin hole.
A few minutes later, pulled out, ripped his condom off, and straddled my torso. He grunted loudly and carnally like a caveman as he pulled my hair and pumped a giant load onto my face. It splattered all over my forehead, nose, eyelids, lips and chin. After his orgasm subsided, he began licking every inch of my cum covered face. Soon, every drop of cum was gone, but my face was glazed with Coach Duncan’s alpha spit. I felt so used and submissive, letting a bigger, stronger man lick my face. I admitted to myself that I loved the feeling. I was a virgin, jock stud less than an hour ago, and now I was Coach Dustin’s deflowered bitch-boy.
Coach Duncan rolled over next to me and we both tried to catch our breaths. The sun had almost completely set by now. Coach turned to me and kissed my forehead, “Thanks for giving me your cherry, dude…you were a great lay…so you said you needed to get home by 9:00? Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. You’re camping out here with me tonight…I’ve still got a few loads left to pump out before mornin'.”
---
After Coach Duncan took my virginty in the roughest, most dominant manner I would have ever imagined up to that point, we both took a dip in the lake to wash off and then went to bed in an air mattress and tent that Duncan brought. It wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement, but I dozed off quickly, probably due to how exhausted I was from the rough fuck I just endured.
I woke up about an hour later—face down and in a headlock. I groaned groggily. Duncan held me still. “Wakey, wakey, pretty boy. Ready for your second fuck of the night?”
I felt his lubed-up cock pressing against my tired hole. In my surprise, I must’ve struggled a bit. Duncan firmed up his headlock. “Don’t fucking squirm like a bitch, dude. I thought I taught you how to take cock like a real man.” He pressed his cock firmly against my hole and I squealed.
Duncan let go of the chokehold and put his hand over my mouth. He pressed his cock into me with surprising patience and I was able to adjust. As surprised as a I was, I wanted this. I wanted the alpha male jock who just took my virginity to fuck me again. And again and again. I need his cock. So bad. I wanted him to press me down and use me like a dirty fucking fleshlight.
My own cock was rock hard and probably leaking precum all over the air mattress. I relaxed as best I could and soon he was fully inside me. I wondered if he was wearing a condom or not this time. He took his hand off my mouth and asked me if I liked the feeling of his cock inside me. I nodded while moaning, and Duncan laughed.
“Haha. Fags are all the same. Give them a taste of my cock and they’ll beg for more the rest of their lives.” Duncan began gyrating rhythmically, slowly massaging my prostate. To my surprise, he began sniffing and kissing my neck and the back of my head. He gradually gyrated faster and faster. Soon he was passionately licking around my neck and face, almost like he was marking me as his property. It all felt so primal.
Soon he began humping rough and fast. He lifted his torso up and pulled me by my hair with one hand while spanking my ass cheeks with the other. I was completely pinned down and used like a whore. And it turned me on. So much.
My pleasured moans must’ve encouraged him. Duncan taunted, “You like this? Huh? Fuck yeah…want me to stop? No? You want me to keep pounding you like a little bitch boy? Haha pathetic. That’s what I thought, you little slut.”
I begged him to please keep fucking me. Told him that I’d be his obedient little slut. But despite my pleas, Duncan pulled out. He then rolled over onto his back and put his arms behind his head, like he was ready to get worshiped. “Ride me, bitch.”
I eagerly crawled over the tall, muscular jock that now owned me, and I slid his cock into my now-loosed fuck-chute. I pumped myself up and down, making myself into a fleshlight to serve this superior male specimen. He caressed my torso with his hands, and I felt proud that he seemed to be enjoying my toned body. Suddenly, he slapped me and then put his hands around my neck. I felt my sweat drip off my body onto his perfectly sculpted pecs. Even in the darkness, I imagined how sexy the golden-haired stud would look in the daylight, with the light splattering of hair around his firm pecs.
Duncan further surprised me by pulling me in for a kiss. It was rough and dominated as his tongue invaded my mouth. I felt like I was going to faint from the sheer energy and passion. Then, he ordered me to prove my submission by sniffing his armpits and telling him how they smelled. The deodorant he was wearing had pretty much worn out by then and he smelled so intoxicating and manly. I couldn’t help but to start jacking my cock while I buried my nose insatiately in his musky, damp pits, rubbing his jock sweat over my twinky face.
“That’s a good boy…get a good whiff of your Daddy’s pits. Fuck yeah…okay now lick the sweat clean…yeah you heard me, boy, get in there.”
It was so raunchy and dirty to get ordered to lick his pits that I lost control. As I plunged me tongue into his muscular, hairy armpits tasting his salty sweat, my cock vibrated uncontrollably. A familiar warmth flooded my body as I shook and jizzed. All over Duncan’s abs.
“Ah shit. You fucking whore. Again? Clean your shit off me….no, with your tongue.” I obediently licked my cum from Duncan’s six-pack abs, still feeling horny after orgasming. When I licked the last drop, Duncan pushed me off and then pinned me down, face-down again. He quickly entered me again and began humping me into the air mattress. Hard, fast rough. Nothing about it was gentle. It begin to hurt and I was worried I wouldn’t be able to take it much longer.
He pulled my hips up and begain pistoning in and out of me doggy style. I was moaning so loudly by then it might’ve even sounded like screams of ecstacy. Very quickly, he begain cumming.
“Oh shitt…Ready for your second every load, cum bucket? Here it comes…FUCK! Shitttt…ughhhh…mhhhh..fuck fuck….oh fuck yeah….take it….FUCKING TAKE IT!” Coach Duncan definitely wasn’t wearing a condom and I felt so slutty getting bred a second time that day.
After that second fuck, Duncan said he couldn’t fall asleep again and we drove home to his parents place for a sleepover. He was kind enough to let me shower off and spend the night sleeping in his bed. In the morning, Duncan made me give him a blowjob. Honestly, it probably sucked given how I inexperienced I was, but I was enthusiastic and let him roughly grab my head and facefuck me. I don’t think I was able to make him cum just with my mouth and he ended up jacking off into my mouth and making me swallow his load. I loved it. The domination. The degradation. It all turned me on.
---
The drive home from the lake felt like a blur. My head was still spinning from what had happened with Coach Duncan, and I kept replaying every moment in my mind. The way he'd looked at me, the weight of his body pinning me down, the roughness of his hands—it was all I could think about. I'd never experienced anything like it before, and the intensity had left me completely hooked.
I got so horny halfway though the drive, that I pulled off and found a small dirt road parking lot to jack off. It took me no more than two minutes to finish. I scooped up the jizz from my tight abs and licked it all up, pretending that it was Duncan’s cum.
I texted Duncan as soon as I got home, trying to play it cool but probably failing miserably. "Thanks for hanging out tonight, man. That was awesome. We should definitely do it again soon." Honestly, I wished I could drive right back and get fucked again and again everyday for the whole week.
His response came a few hours later: "Yeah bro, for sure. Had a good time too."
That was it. No suggestion of when we might meet up again, no acknowledgment of what had actually happened between us. I waited another day before texting him again, asking if he wanted to hang out over the weekend. This time, he didn't respond for a whole day.
When he finally did text back, it was maddeningly noncommittal: "Hey man, been crazy busy with training and family stuff. I'll let you know when I'm free."
But then, almost as an afterthought, he added: "Send me a pic of what you're up to today."
I should have seen the pattern forming, but I was eighteen and completely infatuated. I sent him a shirtless mirror selfie from my bedroom, trying to look casual but making sure my abs were showing. He responded with a fire emoji and nothing else.
This became our routine over the next couple of weeks. Duncan would leave me hanging for days, giving me vague responses about hanging out, but he'd always ask for pictures. And like an idiot, I'd always send them. Shirtless gym selfies, post-workout shots, even some in just my underwear when I was feeling particularly desperate for his attention. He'd respond with brief, generic compliments, but never any concrete plans to meet up.
He also liked sending me dick picks, usually along with humiliating captions like, “Miss the cock that popped your cherry?” or “Wanna beg me to plug your fag-chute again?”
The sexual frustration was driving me insane. I'd lie in bed at night thinking about that evening by the lake, replaying every detail until I was so worked up I could barely stand it. I kept hoping Duncan would text me with an actual invitation to hang out, but as a whole week passed, I felt like he was probably just stringing me along.
That's when I downloaded Grindr.
I'd heard about it before, obviously, but I'd never actually used it. Creating my profile felt like crossing some kind of threshold. For my main profile pic, I chose a post-workout mirror selfie where the gym lighting hit my abs just right, casting deep shadows between each defined ridge of my six-pack. My skin had that golden-bronze glow I always developed by mid-summer—a gift from my quarter Latino heritage that turned my otherwise Nordic features into something more exotic and striking. The photo caught the lean muscle definition in my arms too, though I found myself wishing they looked thicker, more imposing. Still, the way my shoulders tapered down to my narrow waist created the kind of V-shape that I knew drove guys crazy.
For my body shot, I went with a shirtless photo I'd taken after a particularly brutal sprint session, where sweat still glistened on my chest and my running shorts sat low enough on my hips to hint at the sharp lines of my lower abs. The photo was angled perfectly to show off my tight, sculpted ass—all those years training had carved it into something solid and round.
The suburbs weren't exactly a hotbed of gay activity. Most of the guys on the app were either way older than me or not really my type. A lot of them were clearly closeted married men looking for quick hookups, which wasn't exactly what I was after. I wanted something more like what I'd had with Duncan—that connection, that chemistry, that raw attraction.
I was getting frustrated with the limited options when a message popped up from a profile that made me do a double-take. The guy was tall and muscular with salt-and-pepper hair and a strong jaw. His profile said he was 38, recently out, and looking for "discreet fun with fit guys." The photos showed someone who clearly took care of himself—not as nearly as ripped as Duncan, but solid and masculine with just the slightest hint of a dad bod that somehow made him even more attractive.
His name was Greg.
We started chatting, and he was articulate and charming in a way that most of the other guys on the app weren't. He asked about my interests, my plans for college, what I was looking for. The conversation flowed naturally, and I found myself getting genuinely excited about the possibility of meeting him.
It wasn't until we'd been talking for a while that something clicked. Greg. Salt-and-pepper hair. Recently divorced. The age would be about right...he looked familiar
Holy shit. This was Ben's dad.
Ben had been on my soccer team freshman and sophomore year before I switched to track full-time. We weren't close friends, but we'd hung out in the same circles, gone to the same parties. I remembered his dad coming to games sometimes—always well-dressed, always cheering loudly from the sidelines. I'd heard through the grapevine that his parents had gotten divorced recently and that there were rumors about his dad being gay, but I hadn't thought much about it at the time.
The realization should have made me back off immediately. This was risky as hell—if anyone found out, it could create a huge mess. But instead of being deterred, I found myself strangely excited by the forbidden nature of it all. Here was this older man, experienced and confident, who clearly found me attractive. And the fact that I knew him, that there was this secret connection between us, made it even more thrilling.
I didn't tell him I knew who he was. Instead, I kept our conversation going, letting the sexual tension build as we talked about what we were both looking for. He was forward without being crude, confident without being pushy. Everything Duncan wasn't, basically.
"I have to ask," he messaged after we'd been talking for about an hour, "how experienced are you? You mentioned you're eighteen, and I want to make sure we're on the same page here."
I was honest with him about being pretty new to all this, and that I’d only been with one guy before, though I didn't mention Duncan specifically. Greg seemed to find my inexperience appealing rather than off-putting.
"I'd love to show you a few things," he wrote. "But I want to make sure you're comfortable. We could meet for a drink first, see if there's chemistry in person?"
That's when he suggested the hotel. Not some sketchy roadside motel, but a nice Marriott. "I can get us a room," he offered. "We can meet in the lobby first, just to chat and see how we feel about each other. No pressure to do anything you're not ready for."
The fact that he was willing to spend money on a nice hotel room made it feel more legitimate, more adult. This wasn't some quick hookup in a parking lot—this was a real date, with a professional working man who was treating me like someone worth investing in.
I agreed to meet him that Saturday evening.
I spent way too long getting ready that Saturday. I showered, styled my hair perfectly, and picked out my best dark jeans that hugged my ass just right and a fitted polo shirt that clung to my chest and showed off my lean, athletic build without being too obvious about it. I checked myself out in the mirror and had to admit I looked damn good—my shoulders had gotten broader from all my training, and the shirt emphasized my V-taper perfectly. I even borrowed some of my dad's nice cologne, though I was careful not to use too much. When I caught my reflection one last time before leaving, I felt a surge of confidence. I thought I looked like exactly the kind of young stud that would drive an older guy wild.
The Marriott lobby was elegant and dimly lit, with comfortable seating areas and soft jazz playing in the background. I spotted Greg immediately when I walked in—he was even better looking in person than in his photos, and my breath caught slightly. He was tall, probably 6'2", with broad shoulders that filled out his navy button-down shirt perfectly. Even through the fabric, I could see the outline of a solid chest and strong arms. His salt-and-pepper hair was perfectly styled, and his jaw was strong and masculine with just a hint of stubble. When he stood up to greet me, he moved with the kind of quiet confidence that I imagine came from years of experience and success. He extended his hand with an easy, assured smile that made my knees feel slightly weak.
"You must be C.H.," he said, and his voice was exactly what I'd imagined—deep and warm with an unmistakable note of authority that made me want to do whatever he asked. As he shook my hand, I caught his scent—expensive cologne layered over the intoxicating smell of clean, masculine sweat. It was sophisticated and primal at the same time, and it made my head spin slightly.
"That's me," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady as I shook his hand. His grip was firm and possessive, and he held the contact just a beat longer than necessary, his thumb brushing against my knuckles in a way that sent a jolt of electricity up my arm.
We sat down in a quiet corner of the lobby bar, and he took charge immediately, signaling the waiter with the kind of easy authority that made it clear he was used to being in control. He ordered himself a top-shelf scotch and surprised me by ordering me a rum and Coke. When I raised an eyebrow, he leaned in with a knowing smile.
"Relax," he said quietly, his voice low and intimate. "I'm not going to get you in trouble. But a man should know how to handle his liquor." The way he said "man" made me sit up straighter—like he was recognizing something in me that others hadn't. We were lucky that the waiter was fine with me drinking the rum and Coke, even though I’m pretty sure I looked clearly under 21.
The conversation flowed easily, just like it had over text, but in person his confidence was even more magnetic. He asked about my track career, my college plans, my family, but he also wasn't afraid to let his eyes linger on my chest when I leaned forward, or to make subtle comments about how good I looked. I found myself flexing slightly when I reached for my drink, enjoying the way his gaze followed the movement of my arms.
"You know," he said after about twenty minutes, his voice dropping to that intimate register that made my stomach flip, "you're even more attractive in person than in your photos. And that's saying something." His eyes traveled slowly from my face down to my chest and back up again, unashamed in his appreciation.
I felt my cheeks flush, but also felt a surge of pride. I'd worked hard for this body, and having a sophisticated older man like Greg appreciate it felt incredible. "Thanks. You too—you're exactly what I was hoping for."
He leaned forward slightly, close enough that I could smell that intoxicating blend of cologne and masculinity again. His eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made me feel like he could see right through me. "I have to ask—are you sure you want to do this? I don't want you to feel any pressure. We can just finish our drinks and call it a night if you prefer."
But the way he was looking at me, the confidence in his voice, the fact that he was giving me an out while clearly hoping I wouldn't take it—it all made me want him even more. Plus, the rum was making me feel warm and bold.
"I'm sure," I heard myself saying, my voice slightly husky from the alcohol and desire. "I—I uh want to go upstairs with you."
His smile widened, confident and satisfied, and he signaled for the check with the same commanding gesture he'd used earlier. "Then let's go."
The elevator ride to the seventh floor felt like it lasted forever and no time at all. Greg stood close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body, and when the doors finally opened, he placed his hand on the small of my back to guide me down the hallway. That simple touch sent shivers through my entire body.
His room was spacious and elegant, with a king-size bed and a sitting area by the window. As soon as the door closed behind us, Greg moved to the mini-bar and poured himself another scotch, then mixed me a stronger rum and Coke than what I'd had downstairs.
"Here," he said, handing me the glass, his fingers brushing mine deliberately. "This will help you relax."
I took a long sip, feeling the burn of the alcohol and the warmth spreading through my chest. Greg moved closer, close enough that I had to tilt my head back slightly to meet his eyes.
"You really are beautiful," he murmured, reaching up to brush a strand of hair off my forehead. "So young and perfect."
Before I could respond, he leaned down and kissed me, and holy shit, it was nothing like the fumbling kisses I'd had with girls in high school before I came out. This was masterful—his lips were firm and confident, and when his tongue slipped into my mouth, it was with exactly the right amount of pressure and skill. He tasted like expensive scotch and masculinity, and when he pulled me closer against his solid chest, I could feel the strength in his arms and shoulders.
The kiss sent electric tingles racing up and down my spine, and I found myself melting into him, letting him take complete control. One of his hands tangled in my hair while the other pressed against the small of my back, and I realized I was making small sounds of pleasure that I couldn't control.
When we finally broke apart, I was breathing hard and felt slightly dizzy—whether from the alcohol, the kiss, or just the overwhelming presence of this confident, experienced man, I couldn't tell.
"Fuck," I whispered, and Greg chuckled, the sound deep and satisfied.
"We're just getting started," he said, his voice full of promise. He begins taking off his clothes and I take off my shirt but leave my pants on. He's naked, I'm shirtless, and we take in the sight of each other.
"You definitely look better than your pictures," he said, his voice low and gravelly. I felt myself blush. I feel a flush creep up my neck and into my cheeks as the older man takes in my body, his gaze lingering on my abs and toned arms.
Before I could respond, he was on me again, his lips crashing into mine with masterful skill. His lips felt firm and assertive, tongue slipping into my mouth with perfect pressure while his hands tangled in my hair and pressed against my back, sending electric tingles all throughout my athletic body.
His hands are everywhere, exploring my body with an intensity that makes my head spin. I can feel the heat radiating from him, his body pressing against mine as he pinned me against the wall. I moan into his mouth, my hands gripping his shoulders as I try to steady myself. Greg was so much more sensual and romantic than Duncan!
He pulled back, his lips curling into a smirk as he took in my flushed cheeks and heavy-lidded eyes. "Someone's eager," he said, his voice low and teasing. I felt my face heat up even more, and I bit my lip, trying to hide my embarrassment.
But Greg wasn’t having any of it. He leaned in again, his lips finding my ear and sending shivers down my spine. "Don't be shy," he murmured, his breath hot against my skin. "I want to hear you scream my name before the end of the night."
And with that, he dropped to his knees, his hands working quickly to undo my pants. I gasped as he pulled them down, his lips finding my cock and sucking it into his mouth with a hunger that took my breath away.
He works my rock-hard cock with his mouth, his tongue swirling around the tip and sending waves of pleasure crashing through my jock body. I can feel my getting closer, my hands gripping his shoulders as I try to hold back.
But Greg won't let me. He sucks harder, his lips and tongue working in tandem to bring me to the brink. And just as I’m about to come, he pulls back, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
"Not yet," he said, his voice low and commanding. I whimpered in frustration, my body begging for release.
But Greg wasn’t done with me yet. He stood up, his lips finding mine again in a passionate kiss. I could taste my own precum on his lips, and the thought made my cock throb even harder.
He picked me up, his arms strong and sure as he carried me to the bed. He laid me down gently, his body covering mine as he continued kissing me deeply
He lubed himself up and put a condom on, and the next thing I know, then he's inside me, filling me up in a way that made my head spin. He moved with a skill and precision that only an experienced older man would have, his body moving in time with mine as he brought me to the brink again and again.
He fucked me missionary style, kissing and loving on me the entire time. He let my hands roam over his strong, masculine torso. I loved his hairy chest and firm stomach that didn’t have any visible abs, but was sexy nonetheless. He pleasured my erect nipples with his expert tongue while his hands caressed each inch of my writhing body. Unlike Duncan, he’d compliment me endlessly, telling me how much he loved my sculpted body, my cute face, and the sound of my pleasured moans.
I lost count of how many times Greg edged me before I finally came, my body trembling and shaking as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through my blissed out body. And through it all, Greg never faltered, his body moving with a grace and skill that left me breathless.
Finally, he collapsed on top of me, his body slick with sweat and his breath coming in ragged gasps. I could feel his heart pounding against mine, and I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close as we both come down from the high.
"Fuck," I breathed, my voice hoarse from screaming.
Greg chuckled, his lips finding mine again in a kiss that's soft and tender. "I told you you'd scream my name," he said, his voice low and satisfied.
Thank you all for reading! Please leave any suggestions in the comments. I am trying to focus on my stories, "Chase's Senior Year" and "A Fratty Hockey Jock" but have still been struggling with writers block and being generally pretty busy these days.
Please let me know of any ideas/fantasies you'd like to read a story about. As you know, I do not charge anything for my content--your feedback and encouragement is what keeps me motivated to continue publishing :)
