Hole Awakening
I walked home blazer off and shirt unbuttoned halfway, hoping the cool air would calm me down. It didn’t. My skin still tingled from Coach’s hands, the ghost of his touch lingering across my body like heat trapped beneath my skin. My jock was still damp by the time I walked through the front door.
“Hey, bud,” my dad called from the kitchen. “How was practice?”
“Good,” I managed, tossing my bag by the stairs. “Coach says I’m making progress. Might have a shot at the team.”
My little brother piped up from the couch, eyes glued to his game. “Bet you’re gonna crush Kyle!”
I rolled my eyes, half-laughing. “Thanks for the support.” If only he knew.
Dinner was quick—leftover pasta and forced small talk. My science teacher had said something earlier about extra credit for an upcoming science fair. I nodded along, said I might enter if I had time, but my brain was elsewhere. Still replaying the massage, Coach’s voice, the way I melted under his hands like I wanted to be touched that way.
Afterward, I headed up to my room, closing the door behind me.
Something wasn’t right. Something was changing. And I didn’t know if I wanted it to stop.
I tossed my phone on my desk, kicked off my shoes, and looked at my bed—still a mess of open books and notes from doing my homework earlier. I didn’t have the energy to clear it. My limbs felt heavy, like I’d been carrying something invisible since I left the locker room.
I peeled off my clothes one piece at a time, not really thinking about why. Just that I felt hot under my skin—too warm, too tight in my own body. The second my boxers hit the floor, I felt some small release, like my skin could finally breathe.
Seb’s bed was neatly made across the room, sheets smooth and undisturbed. I wondered yet again how he was doing at Uni and if he missed me, he hadn’t been home in weeks and I could really use my big brother to talk to. If only I could figure out what to say.
I drifted over without thinking and lay down, letting the mattress take my weight. The coolness of the sheets brushing against my back in a way that made me shiver.
I stared at the ceiling, trying to empty my head. But it wasn’t working.
The house was quiet now, just the sound of my own breathing getting heavier. I was so fucking horny I could barely think.
My hands moved slowly across my chest, not with intention, just… curiosity. My skin felt hypersensitive, every brush of my fingertips leaving behind a tingling warmth. I ran them over the soft swell of my pecs, lingering where the nerves fired stronger, then followed the line down to the ridge of my abs—still faint but more defined lately, thanks to all the extra sessions with Coach.
And then there he was in my mind again. His hands. His voice. The heat of his breath behind his calm words. The way he told me to relax, how his fingers moved lower, deeper—how right it felt in that moment even if I couldn’t explain it now.
My breath hitched. Something inside me was building again, something heavy and tight and aching. It wasn’t just physical—it was in my head, in my chest. Like I was chasing something just out of reach. And the more I remembered, the closer it got.
When I grazed a nipple, it hardened instantly. I pinched it gently, then a little rougher, and a moan slipped out of me. God, I loved that—how sensitive they were, how that sharp little jolt went straight to my cock. How had I never noticed this before? It was driving me crazy.
My other hand drifted down, exploring the lines of my abs—flat, tight, just defined enough to flex a little when I breathed in deep. I love the way I feel when I touch myself like this. Like I’m on display, even if there’s no one watching. Just me, turned on by the idea of being wanted.
I stopped myself.
My hand was wrapped tight around my cock, and I could feel that edge creeping up fast—too fast. I let out a shaky breath and forced my hand away, dropping it to the side of me. My dick twitched in protest, aching for more, but I needed to cool down.
Coch said not to touch.
My fingers brushed against something soft to my side, wedged between the mattress and the wall. Fabric. I pulled it out, curious—and froze. It was a pair of underwear. Briefs. Not mine. Faded black cotton, stretched and worn, the waistband twisted, like they’d been shoved there in a hurry.
My heart kicked harder in my chest.
They looked familiar—too familiar. This wasn’t my bed, it was Seb’s. My breath caught in my throat. I should’ve tossed them aside, but instead, I brought them closer as if unable to control myself.
The scent hit me before I even pressed them to my nose. Thick, musky, soaked into the fabric. A raw, masculine stink—like sweat, skin, and cum all clinging together. My lips parted around a moan before I could stop myself.
Fuck. I was dizzy. It was overwhelming.
I heard movement from another room and before I could even think, I shoved the crotch against my mouth to silence another moan. Sucking in the scent, the taste, the fabric lay sour and salty on my tongue. My whole body jolted, my cock throbbed so hard it hurt. I moaned again — stifled this time—and kept licking, sucking, the musk clinging to my tongue, making my head spin. I didn’t even know what I was thinking anymore. I was panting, moaning softly, hips grinding into the air like I needed to fuck something. My cock was leaking nonstop, the head glistening, begging for touch—but I couldn’t go back to it just yet. Not when something deeper had started to stir in me.
It was like the memory was burned into me. The heat of his palms. The way he spoke to me like he knew something I didn’t. My body started reacting again before I could stop it. Breathing harder, my brothers’ musk clinging to my tongue making my head spin, as I imagined Coach’s voice again. His thumbs pressing deeper. That moment—that touch—when everything changed.
My hand drifted lower, sliding between my legs, fingers brushing over my balls, then further back. I hesitated—just for a breath—then cupped the space beneath, pressing lightly, feeling how warm and soft and sensitive I was down there. My fingertips grazed over my hole and my whole body jerked.
Fuck.
It was electric. Just the barest touch and I was gasping like I’d been shocked. My legs parted instinctively, knees bending as I reached back again, letting my fingers trace slow circles around the tight ring of muscle. I’d never touched myself like this before—not really—but now it felt impossible not to. Like my body had just known what it wanted all along.
I spat in my palm and slicked up my fingers, heart pounding. The first press was tentative, gentle, just testing. My hole fluttered, tight and resistant—but hungry. I pushed a little more and felt myself give way, just a bit, my fingertip sliding inside.
“Oh fuck…” I whispered.
It was hot. Gripping. My body sucked me in so eagerly it made my cock throb against my stomach. I started to work my finger in deeper, slow, steady strokes, hips rocking with each movement. The pressure, the stretch, the invasion—it made my whole-body light up. I moaned louder and shoved the briefs back into my hungry mouth to muffle the sound.
A second finger joined the first, slicked and trembling slightly as I pushed in. The stretch burned and thrilled me at once, my hole clutching tight but desperate to be filled. I was fucking myself with my own hand now, moaning around the briefs, fingers driving deeper, brushing spots that made my cock twitch like it was about to explode.
I reached for it with my other hand, finally giving in. Fuck—it was throbbing. So hard, leaking already. I smeared the slick precum across the head with my thumb, just to tease myself. My hips bucked into my own grip. I was desperate, aching, already moaning from just a few strokes.
I wrapped my fist around the base and stroked hard, fast, pre spilling over my fingers, dripping down onto my abs. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I was fucking myself, jerking off, filthy and moaning, soaked in my spit and sweat – and my brothers’ filth.
I needed more. I needed to lose myself in it. Everything inside me felt raw and wide open. I didn’t know who I was in this moment—just that I never wanted to go back.
I was right on the edge—my fingers buried deep in my hole, stretching me open, fucking myself in slow, hungry thrusts. My other hand was stroking my cock in tight, slick pumps, the head swollen and flushed, leaking precum with every breathless moan.
The briefs were stuffed in my mouth, soaked with spit, the musky taste thick on my tongue. It was bitter and raw—like sweat, skin, the faint salt of cum soaked deep into the fabric… and underneath it, something sharp and sour emerged, almost like piss. Dirty. Rank. Real. I couldn’t stop sucking on it, grinding my teeth against the seam of the crotch, needing more of that flavour, like it was rewiring my brain.
My whole body was tensed, trembling. My hole clenched around my fingers, greedy for more, and every stroke of my cock sent fire racing up my spine.
And then it hit me.
My back arched hard off the bed, a strangled moan spilling around my brothers’ briefs. I came with a violent jerk, cock pulsing in my hand. Thick ropes of cum shot up over my chest, splashing across my skin, hot and messy. My body spasmed, hole clenching tight around my fingers threatening to cut off the circulation, but I kept fucking myself through it, milking out every drop unable to stop.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Just lay there, twitching, gasping, covered in cum, tongue still dragging across the soaked fabric in my mouth, needing to taste every last drop of what had been left behind.
Even as the orgasm faded, the hunger didn’t.
Eventually I removed the boxers and returned them to the side of the bed wet with my saliva and a few rogue ropes of my own cum and retreated to my own bed. He’d never know. Back on my bed, I cleared the books off, the pages rustling as I tossed them aside, put in my headphones and lay down. My mind lingered on what had been happening to me lately – my thoughts, my desires, Coach’s touch, but I didn’t want to think about it anymore.
I shut my eyes.
“You are a winner … You can be the best … Be a team player …”
It didn’t take long. My body felt heavy, my thoughts slow and scattered., the warmth in my chest didn’t fade—if anything, it only deepened. And I finally slipped into unconsciousness serenaded by Coach’s deep and commanding voice.
“You are a slut … You need your pussy filled with anything … Your dick is worthless … Only your cunt matters …”
