A Collegiate Decathlete Took my Virginity

I mentioned a few months ago that I was thinking of writing a nonfiction recollection of some of my more interesting sexual encounters. I decided to start from the beginning and share the story of how I lost my anal virginity several years back as an 18-year-old, rising high school senior. About 80% of this story is true, but I’ve changed names and key details to avoid revealing my identity. Some details (such as precise conversations, what I was wearing on a particular day, etc.) I’ve forgotten, so I filled in the descriptions with descriptions that probably could have been accurate. And obviously I don’t remember exact conversations so the dialogue is written to be an approximation of what was actually said.  

I’ll refer to myself in these writings as “C.H.” to avoid confusion with the character, “Chase Huxley” in my fiction stories. Physically, I’m similar to the A.I. rendering of the character, Matty, I shared a several months ago on my Twitter—decently muscular and toned, but not like a bodybuilder or anything. I’ve spent the better part of a decade regularly hitting the gym and trying to get a body like Chris Harmsworth, but I’ve never fully committed to bulking up, always wanting to keep my visible abs. Maybe one day.

When I was 18, I was about 15 lbs less muscular than I am now. I was one of the top sprinters in the country. I was nationally ranked in the 200m dash, but also one of the top 400m and 400m hurdlers in my state, and also did pretty well in long jump and triple jump. I trained year-round and had a pretty defined 6 pack, a tight butt, and toned and decently-muscular arms that I always wished were a bit thicker. My heritage is ¾ northern European and ¼ Latino—my facial structure is more European, but in the summer I get pretty tan, especially in back high school when I was always hanging outdoors and not always wearing sunscreen. 

My parents “redshirted” me—that means they held me back a year in school to give me an advantage in sports. My dad was an NCAA D1 athlete, so even when I was little, he was always thinking about my college sports prospects. The summer before senior year I had just turned 18 and attended an overnight “high performance” track and field camp that lasted a couple of weeks.

I remember being soooo friggin stoked for the camp. The main reason was that I decided that I would come out as “bi” for the first time to people at the camp (I’m gay, but at the time, I thought coming out as “bi” would be easier). Nobody at my high school would be there, so I wouldn’t have to worry about any social blowback. By the time I was in high school (mid/late 2010s), it was already socially acceptable to be queer, but I hung out mostly with bro-ey jocks and worried that being openly gay would mess up my friend dynamics.

I started telling people I was “bi” right out of the gate on the first day of camp. Didn’t make a big deal out of it, just kinda casually threw it out there in casual conversation. I think word got out pretty quickly since there only were about 20 students at the camp. I had secretly fantasized I’d meet another gay camper and maybe we’d get it on; but unfortunately, literally everyone else was straight.

Well, all the students that is. Coach Duncan was a rising junior in college. He was a sprinter in high school like me, but switched to decathlon in college and earned “All-American” honors as a sophomore (a feat I was extremely impressed by). He had dark blonde hair that bordered the line between being short and slightly shaggy. His body (like most decathletes) was insane.  He didn’t have an ounce of fat showing on his muscular frame and every part of his cut body looked perfectly proportioned. His chest, in particular, always caught my eye—the grooves were so deep and defined and a light smattering of hair gave him a masculine, intoxicating allure.

During the camp, no one had any inkling of a clue that Coach Duncan was into dudes. He had a super bro-ey, hyper-masculine personality. These days, we’d call probably call it out as toxic masculinity. He cussed in his deep, manly voice like he was British and would rough house with us boys regularly. I still have vivid memories Coach Duncan giving us nougies or slapping us on the ass whenever we walked by him. Us guys pretty much all idolized him and I'm sure most of the girls crushed hard on him. Guys and girls alike would ogle his rippling, sweat-sheened muscles when he demonstrated drills shirtless in the summer heat.

Out of the sprinters at the camp, I was the only one who was deciding between offers at different D1 schools, and as a result, Coach Duncan paid a good deal of special attention to me. The deadline to sign an NCAA “letter of intent” would be coming up in a few months and Coach Duncan seemed to enjoy recounting his own experience of choosing between schools when he was my age. He’d get real close to me and give me a firm shoulder massage while telling me about various college visits. I still remember feeling shivers run up my spine as his strong hands kneeded against my sore neck and shoulders. His grip strength was incredible and he’d press so hard I could barely keep my muscles from tensing right up. In his deep, fratty voice, he’d be like, “Dude, I’m telling ya, the girls at Vanderbilt are fucking insane. I always thought of them as a friggin nerd school, but when I was there I saw so many straight-up 10s just walkin around campus with their ass and tits all hanging out. Don’t sleep on them.”

It was during a conversation like that when I slipped out that I was “bi”. I probably said something like, “Nice, dude…I haven’t gotten an offer at Vandy, but sounds like I should probably see if I can hit their coach up. I’m bisexual, by the way, so hot girls are still a plus in my book, but it’s not like the be all end all or anything.” I noticed a strange expression flicker across Duncan’s face, which I struggled to interpret, and it momentarily made me nervous. Was he gonna stop chatting me up because of my sexuality? Was he thinking that I was trying to hit on him or something?

My worries quickly vanished as he smiled and nodded and said something like, “Oh, so you swing both ways? You’re a lucky bastard. Double the holes, double the fun.”

I precisely remember that last line because I had to fight an urge to correct him. “Girls have a pussy and an asshole, but guys just have assholes, so it wouldn’t be exactly double,” I thought to myself like a nerd. The conversation quickly pivoted to something non-sexual, like baseball or grand theft auto or something and we never talked about my sexuality again for the rest of camp.

 My worries about Coach Duncan icing me out after learning I was queer were completely unfounded. In fact, the opposite happened. Those last few days of camp he seemed to take every opportunity to chat me up. It turned out I lived about 30 minutes away from his parents house, where he would be staying after the camp and before school started up again. On the last day of camp, we exchanged snapchats and he offered to hang out since we lived so close. I was ecstatic, but suspected that he was only saying that as a matter of course, but wouldn’t actually want to hang out with a high schooler like me.

 I was wrong. Only one or two days after camp ended, he messaged me. “Bro u wanna go fishing at the lake near my parents place tomorrow?” I didn’t hesitate to respond. I was super excited but played it cool and gave a controlled response like, “Sure man, lets do it. I got nothing going on tomorrow so might as well.”

I met Coach Duncan the next evening (it was a Wednesday I think?) at his parents’ driveway at around 6pm. He looked sexy as fuck, even moreso than usual. He was wearing a hand-cut tank with armholes cut so low it almost looked like an apron. A gold cross necklace dangled around his muscular neck, bouncing around his lightly-hairy pecs. A white flatbill cap sat crooked and backwards on his medium-short shaggy hair. A 5 o’clock shadow of golden stubble framed his strong, defined jaw.

I was probably wearing basketball shorts, Jordans, and either a tight fitting plain-white t shirt or my favorite tank top that I created by cutting the sleeves off a track and field state championships t-shirt I won my sophomore year.   

I vividly remember Coach Duncan giving me a strong bear hug as soon as I got out of my car and smelling the intoxicating scent of his spicy, woody deodorant mixed in with the unmistakable smell of manly sweat. It gave me an erection (I got hard sooo frequently back in high school) and I awkwardly stook my butt out to make sure my cock didn’t brush against Coach Duncan’s tree-truck thighs.

He invited me up into the front seat of his car and asked me if, instead of fishing, I wanted to just crack some cold beers with him and shoot the shit at some spot by the lake. I easily agreed, considering I secretly never enjoyed fishing anyway. I just wanted to hang out with this college stud whom I idolized and developed a deep infatuation with. Duncan’s parents clearly had money because he drove a huge SUV with the back seats completely flattened so you could fill it up like the bed of a pickup truck. That day, Duncan kept it clean and empty save for a large tarp and canvas blanket we could roll out by the lake and lay on.

The particular spot on the lake he wanted to hang out by was a 10-ish minute drive away and at some point during ride the conversation turned not-so-suprisingly to a frequent topic of discussion for high school / college boys: sex. Duncan was telling me about some amazing blowjob he’d received from this chick he originally didn’t want to have sex with cause everyone said she was a slut, but then it turned out she was amazing at oral. “I mean, dude, literally up to that point I 10 outta 10 times always preferred straight-up fucking more than blowjobs…but SHIT, that chick had me cumming in her mouth harder than I have in any pussy I’ve dipped into.” Listening to Duncan brag about his sex life made me so horny. I could literally feel my own underwear getting wet from my own precum and remember feeling worried that it’d even soak through and leave a wet patch showing on my basketball shorts. 

Eventually, he turned to me and asked me some question about my own sex life that I don’t remember. Maybe whether I preferred vaginal or anal sex more? I confessed that I was a virgin and Duncan seemed genuinely shocked. “Noooo frigggin way, broooo. You are definitely fucking with me.” I insisted I was serious. “Shitt man, you’re a stud though…seriously! I lost my virginity at 14. No way you went through three years of high school and no girl’s put out for you before. Plus you’re bi, right? Fags are way more slutty. I bet you could nail like 99% of the guys on Grindr right now if you wanted.” 

Two things in particular caught my attention. First, I’d never heard him use the word “fag” before and I must admit it weirdly turned me on. Second, I was somewhat surprised he knew about Grindr, as none of my straight guy friends ever mentioned it. I decided to tease him about it like, “Yeah, dude? I take it you’re speaking from experience, right? Secretly been hitting up the gays on Grindr lately?”

 To my extreme surprise, Duncan, replied nonchalantely, “Yeah, I’ve been on Grindr a couple times before. Actually met up with a guy from Grindr in the spring that sucked me off a few times—he was cool…real submissive and let me use his throat hard and never complained.” I would later learn that Duncan was openly bi in college and actually preferred guys over girls. He had decided to keep his sexuality a secret at the track camp for prudent reasons, which was probably a good call.

I was shocked and honestly don’t remember what I said after that, but soon we arrived at a secluded spot at the lake’s edge and hopped out. I opened a couple cans of beer from the mini-cooler while Duncan laid out the tarp and a neat self-inflating camping pad. We chilled and talked for what felt like a couple hours, until the sun was setting. A few puffy clouds scattered across the horizon line, and the sunset looked particularly red and stunning that day.

Early on in the evening, I had taken my shirt off early on and rested it over my lap to hide my frequently hard dick bulge. Duncan kept his clothes on but would frequently take his hat off, tossing it up and catching it again effortlessly and nonchalantly as we chatted. His ruffled hat hair look sexy when he ran his hands through it or when a breeze caused loose strands to flutter about.

By the time the sun began to set, I must have downed a couple of IPA beers (maybe two and a half?). I’m a kind of a lightweight, and embarrassingly, by that point I was kinda tipsy if not straight up drunk. At some point, we were joking about rough sex and teasing each other about enjoying being choked in bed. We playfully reached for each other’s throats, which turned into a full on wrestle on the tarp. I’m about 5’10 and Duncan’s probably half a foot taller than me (so like 6’3 or so). In no time, he easily had me pinned. I felt a bead of his sweat drip onto my forehead as he held my wrists over my head and pinned my legs down with his feet.

I felt my cock getting hard for like the twentieth time that day and said something like, “Alright, you win, now come on and let me up already. You’re strong, we get it.” Duncan didn’t respond. He kept my wrists pinned with one hand and placed the other firmly on my chest. He slowly brushed his hand down my chest and towards my lower abs, feeling the grooves between my defined muscles. His had stopped before going past my abs. 

He smirked. “Bro, you hard right now?”

“C’mon, dude, let me go!”

Duncan chuckled. “Nah, I think you like this, you lil’ fag.”

It was the first time anybody had ever called me that word. Instead of making me angry, for some reason it turned me on. What happened next feels like a blur.

I felt Coach Duncan’s hot lips press firmly against mine. I was still pinned beneath his perfect, muscular body as his tongue invaded my mouth. Despite my immense attraction to Duncan I think I actually tried to push him off, as I was so shocked and surprised. The dude was insanely strong, though, and any resistance was futile. I felt almost light-headed as his tongue fucked in and out of my lips, exploring, invading, raping into every part of my mouth. I melted into a puddle of pure pleasure and ecstacy as I let this bigger, stronger man have his way with me.

Duncan might’ve sensed my surrender because he let go of wrists and reached down to fondle my bulge. He pulled out of my mouth, looked me straight in the eyes and whispered, “Admit it slut. You love this.” I turned away, intimidated by his dominance. I then felt his warm tongue flick against my neck as he kissed and nibbled away. I groaned in pleasure.

Perhaps encouraged by my moans, Duncan increased the intensity of his assault on my neck. He began sucking and nibbling harder and harder. I put my hands against his torso to try to push him away, but he easily grabbed my wrists againt and this time pinned them by my hips. He moved down and began tasting my erect nipples, expertly massaging and flicking htem with his tongue. His hands were so strong my wrists hurt—but waves of pleasure rippled through my entire being as he swirled around my nipples and nibbled around my muscular pecs.

“Shit…oh coach…fuck that feels good…mghhh” 

Duncan continued his journey south and I continued moaning and cussing as I writhed pathetically beneath my conquerer. He ripped my shorts off and wrapped took my rock-hard 6.5” virgin dick into his expert mouth. He must have had more experience with dudes than he let on because, as soon as he started blowing me, I lost it. My body convulsed in pleasure as I moaned and cried in ecstacy. He dragged his tongue down to my balls and taint has he continued to pleasure my knob with his strong, callused hands.

The feeling of when his tongue first flicked against my virgin hole was amazing. It was warm and soft, yet strong. He licked my ass and stroked my cock as I whimpered and squirmed about like a little bitch.

When his tongue pressed past my entrance, my athletic, jock body began buckling uncontrollably. “Duncan, st—stop---you’re gonna make---oh fuck—dude y—you’re making me jizz! AGHHHH!! FFFFUUUU!!!” I shot rope after rope of hot white cum all over myself. 

I barely had time to catch my breath before Duncan began kissing me again, deep, slow, and firm. This man was only a few years older than me, but he was such an experienced lover. When he kissed me I felt like he owned me.

He broke off the kiss and I tried to get up, but Duncan held me back down. “Don’t move a muscle, bitch. We’re not done yet.” 

I laid back down, nervous and unsure what was going on, now that I’d already cum. Maybe Duncan was gonna jack off now? He pulled off his shirt, and even in my post-orgasmic state I felt deep arousal at the sight of his perfectly sculpted torso glistening with sweat in the fading golden lighting. He coated his finger with cum, then pressed it against my hole.

I had fingered myself before, so I knew to relax and pushed out while breathing deeply, as he pressed my own cum into my virgin hole. He smiled at me devilishly, “You like that?” I nodded. He laughed, “Dirty little bitch. Of course you like being filled with cum, even if it’s your own.”

He slipped his whole finger in and begain gently wiggling it around, causing me to squirm. “Alright, Dunc, that’s enough now, let’s get cleaned off.” Duncan ignored me. He continued fingering my ass as he leaned forward to kiss me, muffling my protests and raping my mouth possessively. He stuck another finger in and found my G-spot, making me grow weak with pleasure once again.

I felt so weak and pathetic, letting a college jock pin me down, finger me while using my own cum as lube. Yet, I couldn't deny that it was the most erotic moment of my life and I enjoyed every moment of it. I moaned and whimpered into his possessive, hungry mouth, until suddenly, pulled out and off of me completely. Duncan inspected his fingers, looking pleasantly surprised. 

“Damn, dude, your hole’s pretty clean right now. You prepare for this or something?” Even though his fingers looked clean, Duncan still walked over to his sack pack to pull out a baby wipe and used it to sanitize his fingers that had just been up my ass. Then, he fished out a bottle of lube and a condom. Duncan dropped his shorts revealing his rock hard, dick that looked to be about 7.5 inches long, and an average girth. It looked beautiful and perfectly shaped, while framed by short, trimmed, golden-brown pubes. I laid there limply, admiring the college-aged adonis while I was drunk on alcohol and sex-fueled intoxication.

He quickly popped the condom on and lubed himself up. He gave me a quick rim job as he lubed rubbed himself through his condom with one hand and stroked my cock with his other. It felt amazing being pleasured by studly alpha male like Coach Duncan as I laid back, closed my eyes and let the waves of pleasure run through me.

Soon, I felt Coach Duncan’s knob press against my virgin hole. He massaged my entrance with his tip, while he put my legs over his shoulders and assaulted my nipples and neck with his expert tongue. Without any warning, Coach Ducnan pressed his cock into my virgin hole, pushing past my splinter in a firm thrust.

I screamed. The pain took me by surprise. Coach quickly put his hand around my mouth, muffling my cries. I pressed my thighs back against his shoulders and my hands against his chest, trying to push the 6’3” college decathlete off of me, but he easily overpowered me. He pressed his body down against me as I struggled against his weight. 

“Shut the fuck up bitch. Just relax it and take my cock like a good little faggot slut.”

Through muffled cries I protested, “Please, Coach...you're too big…mhhg…mghhh…I’m not ready to take you…please let me go.”

Coach Duncan held firm, almost like he enjoyed seeing me struggle and vainly attempt to push him off me. 

“C’mon man…it hurts…I’ll suck your dick instead…shit…ughhh.”

Duncan kept his hand over my mouth as he slipped another inch in. The pain was beginning to subside. He lifted his hand from my lifts and muffled me with his mouth instead. I tried to turn away, but he slapped me and then held me still by my chin as he forcibly kissed me deeply while inching his cock into me. 

I whimpered like a little bitch into his hot mouth. His was the mouth of a real man, and which I was no longer. Coach Duncan had reduced me to being a boy bitch for a true alpha.

His sweat dripped all over me as I laid back and submitted to my conquerer. He shoved his cock deep into me and bottomed out, causing me to cry into his mouth. His tongue thrusted in and about my mouth, and for the first time, I began kissing him back, licking and sucking at the superior college stud’s tongue while he fucked me.

He pulled his mouth away, spat on my face and began fucking me missionary. He smiled like a cocky prick and began to taunt me. “You know what just happened, now don’t you, C.H.? I just popped you boy cherry…took your fuckin manhood.”

I couldn't say anything back, as I was moaning uncontrollably from the intense, new sensations of anal stimulation. 

“Just a few moments ago you were still a stud. Friggin, all-state athlete that girls probably secretly wanted to get knocked up by. Now the tables are turned, and you’re spreading your legs like a cheap whore.”

I buckled and writhed. Duncan was so strong and sexy. He was fucking me faster and faster. 

“You’re never gonna forget the feeling of my cock raping your virginity away. You’re gonna need alpha cock every fucking day for the rest of your pathetic faggot existence.”

By that point, I stopped struggling and accepted the passionate, rough fuck. I had always imagined that I would lose my virginity to my boyfriend in romantic, gentle lovemaking session. Instead, I was being degraded and roughly pounded by a guy who saw me as nothing but a bitch to be used for his own pleasure. And it was fucking hot. 

I don’t know why, but being dominated like that turned me on more than anything else. Before that day I’d never been that kinky and mainly watched vanilla porn. But Duncan was right—the way he fucked me left me craving the same rough, dominant treatment all the time. 

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 me leaking, pathetically throbbing cock. 

I moaned and screamed in pleasure and submission. “Oh my fuck! Pleasss….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? 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'.”

---

Thank you all for reading. It was so erotic to relive my earliest gay experience from when I was 18. I definitely took liberties with the dialogue, especially towards the end. Coach Duncan probably wasn't quite as rough and brutal as I described him to be, but he was definitely not gentle.

As I’ve realized my memory of my earlier sexual experiences is beginning to fade, I’m glad I’ve captured the memory of my deflowering now, while I still have vivid recollection of much of it. I’ll definitely keep writing about other of my past experiences, even if I don’t decide to publish them.

Now that I’m done with this piece, I’ll turn back to my fiction writing. Based on the recent Twitter poll, it looks like y’all want more chapters of “Chase’s Senior Year” and “Hockey Jock’s Depraved Spiral.” Hope I can make that happen soon. Will keep you posted about the latest chapter(s) on my Twitter. 

Also, I've been receiving some emails asking me about my personal/sex life/preferences as well as about my "creative" writing process, and I think I might post an FAQ, where I answer some of y'alls' questions. Please feel free to comment/email/message me any questions you'd like answered in an FAQ.