Coach Woods

Life always seems both more complicated and more simple than we somehow imagine.

So I know more will likely come out over time, but for a quick intro let me just say that before I became relevant to the story at hand, I had lived about as blessed of a life as one might imagine, of course with one major exception that ended up driving my whole life.

As a kid, I was a wealthy black urban dude: smart, attractive, athletically gifted, and more (including well hung, to almost no one’s surprise). Somehow growing up in the city I was able to conceal my sexuality to the point that nobody cared as I grew up and grew closer and closer to the love of my life, Jamal, and we even seemed to sort out everything, even though nobody thought that would ever be possible. Even my family remained supportive and helpful throughout, as Jamal and I hung together in a world where gay marriage wasn’t even close to a thing, and where gay athletes were all but unimaginable.

And shortly after college, even as both our careers were taking off in wonderful directions, Jamal was killed.

In a tragic car accident.

I was so lost I had no idea what to do. I spent 6 months travelling. I was unconsolable. I hated anyone who even wanted to try to console me.

I wandered and wandered.

And then I stumbled across what I knew would be an opportunity of a lifetime.

A friend of a friend of a cousin somehow had me visit him in this small western town. And somehow we just ended up at some dumb football game (even if it had been my favorite sport).

And somehow I even got interested, if only for a few minutes.

Long enough to see the talent in the local quarterback, who couldn’t help but remind me of myself somehow, even if our backgrounds couldn’t have been more different. And I kept telling myself there was no way it could be my gaydar, but I was immensely attracted to him, just watching how he seemed to interact with people: his team members, his coach, the other side, even the cheerleaders.

Even if he did generally seem like an asshole.

And then I noticed this one guy he was interacting with.

In retrospect, it was all a bit crazy. It seemed to be the first thing that had intrigued me since Jamal’s passing. And there didn’t really even seem to be all that much there.

But on the other hand, I was sure there was.

My buddy saw that something was intriguing me, even though I was seriously stretching his patience as much as one could imagine, since I was barely interested in anything then.

And then I turned to him.

“So who the hell is that one kid out there, who that hotshot quarterback keeps turning to?”

“Huh?”

“Watch them, even just for a minute or two.”

My buddy watched. I halfway thought I might be imagining something.

“You mean number 60?”

“Yeah.”

My buddy laughed.

“Number 60 is the local brainiac. The QB may be the hottest athlete this place has ever seen. Am I missing something?”

He laughed again.

I went silent. There was something there.

My ongoing broken heart remembered a fond moment or two of Jamal for the first time since his passing.

I couldn’t share any of that with my buddy.

I hung around in the town for a while longer. My cousin checked in on me.

“What the hell are you staying THERE for, dude?”

We went to more games. Me. The only black dude in town, apparently.

And I even went to a couple of practices.

There was definitely something more there than anyone seemed to see.

Except me, apparently.

And almost every time I saw it, even if only for a few moments, another fond memory of the love of my life emerged.

Two weeks. Three weeks.

My buddy and my cousin were both concerned and intrigued.

And then I approached the coach.

Initially just breaking the ice. The coach seemed somehow interested that I was even interested. Shocked at my background, as far as I could tell. I couldn’t even get in to wondering what he thought about my race, my background, and everything else.

But he did figure out I had been a decent quarterback myself. And then an opportunity emerged.

“You wanna jump in and help me coach for a day?”

Shit. I knew Jamal had made that happen.

I was intense enough that I was a hard-ass on the team, for which the coach seemed to like me even more. I was thrown into a couple of situations where it quickly became apparent that no one wanted to mess with me, and I was proud of it. And they were all benefitting from it. Even if not as much as I was.

I even bested their star quarterback a couple of times. Almost knocked him over throwing him a pass. But there was no way in hell he was not going to catch it.

Even if I quietly wished it had hit him in the nuts and made him drop.

Eddie. Somehow an odd name for a country stud, it seemed.

His quiet buddy Jeff. Also odd. And still nobody seemed to see what I saw. I wasn’t even sure either of them saw it.

But with every passing day I grew more and more convinced.

And Jamal was inspiring me, as if from beyond. I knew I could help here somehow. I was more motivated than I had been for months. Almost as interested in their lives as I was in my own.

My family was shocked. My buddy was shocked. My cousin was shocked.

The coach asked me to stay on.

I said yes. Almost nonchalantly.

And that night was the first time I jerked off remembering my good times with Jamal since he passed.

Wow.

I came almost as hard as the first time I ever remembered cumming.