Living Near the High School by Peter

Living Near the High School

by: Peter

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I lived in the house I grew up in, so it wasn’t intentional that I resided right next to the high school. It was handy, back when I was in school, to go out the back door and walk across the football field and I was at school. It was great, too, having the kids hang out there at noon and after school, and there were some who showed up before school to mooch breakfast from my Mom. Miraculously, I managed to subdue my sexuality all through high school, both from my teammates and myself. I was a jock, one of the studs, so the girls I dated were the cream of the crop. Nothing gay about me. I just wasn’t ready to face or try to understand the strong attraction I had for my teammates. I thought it was normal.

I went in the Marines right after graduation. It was a whole different story in the Marines. Considering how the military frowns on homosexuality, I should’ve subdued it there but it didn’t work out that way. I didn’t realize what a magnet the uniform was till I started getting looked at, hit on, felt up and propositioned every time I left the base. Okay, I’m not all that hard to look at, so part of the attraction might have been what was packed inside the uniform--two hundred thirty pounds of hard, Marine muscle--but the uniform and the aura of simply being a Marine deserves its due as well. Very quickly I discovered that it attracted males nearly as often as it did females, and after a while I just had to find out what that was all about. It was an inevitable draw, and probably not many Marines are able to resist it.

It started out with a couple of “innocent” clandestine encounters, one in a restroom and another at a secluded area of a nude beach. I say innocent because I considered them just experimenting around. The first time, I was in a bar that catered to military, and I went to the restroom. I wasn’t looking for it, and I didn’t suspect the guy had followed me in till he took the urinal right next to me when there was another one open. Most guys would’ve put one urinal between us, especially since there were no privacy partitions between the urinals. Like I said, I wasn’t looking for anything, I was there to get rid of the beers I’d had. The guy was on my left and it was probably instinctive that I hauled my cock out with my left hand. But that didn’t completely cover my size, and there were some inches sticking out of my hand. I began to get the picture when I saw him glance around and down.

“Stud,” he said under his breath. “Bet the ladies don’t have any trouble remembering the morning after when you’ve put that to them.”

I nodded and smiled, without looking up. He went on.

“I saw a show on television where there are some young people in a bar and this one girl was confiding to a male friend that she was all worried that she had let this one stud fuck her; she said she’d had too much to drink and couldn’t remember what all happened that night. Later, the friend had to go to the restroom and when he came back, he quietly told her that she hadn’t….he said he saw the guy in the restroom, and believe, if she had, she would remember it. Bet you never have that problem.”

I looked at him, thinking it was a weird thing for a stranger to telling me, thinking he was drunk, but then our eyes met, and his eyes were as clear as mine. He wasn’t drunk. He smiled and nodded at my cock. “Why don’t you hold that with your other hand,” he said.

I scowled but after a short hesitation I switched hands, carefully because I was pissing.

“Geezuss!”

I figured this was it. I was finally going to find out what it was all about.

“You’re built like a stallion, you piss like a horse you’re hung like one,” the guy said.

I didn’t say anything. I just kept pissing and watching the guy. When I was done I shook my cock several times then milked it a couple of times, sort of encouraging him to make his move. He didn’t till I was about to put it away.

“Wait…just a feel?” he said as he reached over for my cock. I let go of it.

“That’s a heavy hunk of meat,” he said. He squeezed and pulled on it a few times and we both watched it grow in his hand. “You wanta step back in the stall,” he said in a husky voice.

There was only one stall and it had about six inches of space under the wall and the door.

“Is it safe?” I asked.

“Happens all the time,” he said.

Suddenly I didn’t care about the space under the door as the guy went into the stall. I glanced around at the door then quickly slipped inside with him. He pulled the door closed and began undoing his pants. He shoved his pants and shorts down and sat on the toilette seat. I couldn’t help noticing that he had a pretty impressive schlong himself. He undid my belt, pulled my zipper down and pulled my pants down. It was a heady feeling to have another guy doing that for me. My cock was straining hard against my shorts and when he pulled them down it swung out and hit him in the face.

“Fuck, I’m gonna enjoy this.” With that, he took my cock in his mouth, and I had a feeling I was going to enjoy it too.

It was short and sweet. It wasn’t a time or place to linger; we were in a bar that catered to military and I was committing a serious crime against their stupid don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy. Two or three guys came and went during my first blowjob, but none of them noticed what was going on inside the stall. Or if they did, they didn’t say anything. I unloaded in the guy’s mouth and he surprised me by swallowing it. It was a perfect first blowjob.

The second time I think I was looking for it. I told myself I was going to the nude beach to check out chicks, and I was, but when I got there I found myself checking out the guys as well. There was some pretty impressive beef on the beach, including myself; not surprising, since it was close to a Marine base. I checked out the chicks, but I was looking for it from a guy. I lay in the hot sun soaking up the rays that would improve my tan to a richer brown, and yeah, showing off my body. I don’t think I looked anywhere that I didn’t see a chick looking at me. Part of me thought, scrap the guy thing and pick up one of the chicks. One of them probably had one of the beach houses close by. Okay, I admit, I was looking for it. I had even worn another swimsuit under my boxer. Something a lot more revealing; hell, it was practically a thong! When I bought it I didn’t know where I was going to keep it in the barracks; I put it in the side pocket of my shaving kit. It was that skimpy.

The nude beach was about a mile down the beach. I finally found my courage and headed that way. It was around a curve in the beach that I found the sign. It didn’t look like much of a beach; it was mostly jagged rocks and huge boulders. But I went further and discovered little patches of beach tucked away between the boulders, with naked sun worshippers. I made my way past several of these little patches of beach, climbing over the rocks and boulders, till I saw a young man standing at the mouth of a cave, about twenty yards away. He was naked, just standing there. I decided it would be a good time to show off a bit more of my body. I stopped at one of the sandy patches--there were only two other guys stretched out on towels--and I took off my boxer suit. The guy was watching me, and when I looked his way he nodded and then turned and disappeared into the cave. I traversed the twenty yards over the boulders and went into the cave. I was startled when I saw him, just inside. He smiled, then laughed.

“Sorry I startled you.”

“That’s okay, I…I thought you would be in deeper.”

He laughed again. “Oh, I can go in deeper,” he said. I was still more at the opening of the cave. My silhouette could no doubt be seen. He came up to me.

“I love that swimsuit but you’re still over dressed. Didn’t you see the sign?” he said as he tugged on the waist of my thong suit. He didn’t know it was a thong till he moved his hand to my hip and around to my butt. “Ah, well, you’re only partly overdressed,” he said as he felt my bare ass. “But still, it is a nude beach. Do you mind?” He was asking if he could take off my thong; he was pulling it down from the sides. Then he stopped. “Let’s go outside. This should be a public unveiling. We can come back in.”

I followed him out of the cave and across the boulders till we were standing on one right at the shoreline that was being pounded by the waves, sending a heavy mist over us. There, in front of anyone who cared to see, he went to his knees and pulled my thong suit down and took it off of me. He lingered down there with my cock hanging in his face then slowly stood and took my hand to lead me back into the cave. Just inside the cave he squatted down, his back against the wall of the cool wall of the cave, and took my cock in his mouth. While he was sucking me, another guy who had obviously seen us, approached the mouth of the cave. I put my hands on the guy’s face to ease him off of my cock but he held on tight. If he didn’t care if we had an audience, neither did I. The other guy came into the cave and stood at a respectable distance and watched. That was my first public sex, and I couldn’t help thinking about my first time, hidden in the toilette stall.

I soon found more places where a guy, especially a Marine, could simply show up and there was somebody scrambling to service him. Then one time I met a fellow Marine in a bar that catered to both straight and gay--I didn’t know him--who knocked me off my feet and I soon found myself in bed with him in a hotel room, hunkered down between his legs, servicing him. It was like bringing to life all the forbidden fantasies that I never had because I was afraid to blossom. Dam, I liked it! I liked sucking cock as much as I liked having my cock sucked.

I served eight years in the Marines without getting caught, got out and went to college to become an architect. It was the same in college, except for the uniform. I didn’t play sports except for a football or baseball game at the sports complex, but I still spent a lot of time in the gym, which was a haven for meeting guys with testosterone boiling in their veins, begging for release that I was only too eager to give them. And a couple of them were just as eager to service me. I really had it bad for jocks and well-built guys. I liked hung guys, too, but I could be satisfied with an average size cock if it was attached to a really great body.

After graduation and a couple of years of designing buildings I branched out into construction. It was more physically challenging, something I missed from the Marines and college. My sex life took on the clandestine again; it wasn’t so easy to hit on another construction worker. But my life was rolling along good, till my parents were killed in a bus crash. I moved back to my hometown, into the house where I was raised; the house next to the high school. I was two years form the big Four-O and it felt like I was starting my life all over again. In a way, I was.

I hired on at a local construction firm and with my experience and general knowledge of architecture, I soon worked my way up to a foreman’s position.

Living beside the high school was different now. I wasn’t the teenage boy anymore, living with the demons that scared the hell out of me. I had let the demons loose, and I wasn’t scared of them anymore, and I was seeing the boys come and go every day much differently than when I lived in the house before. I found myself watching them out the side bedroom window, arriving at school, and from the kitchen window when they were out on the football field. I even kept my binoculars handy so I could get close-up views of their tight packed crotches and hard bubble butts framed in their jockstraps that were visible under their pants. I especially loved watching their bare stomachs showing under the cut off jerseys. I used the track around the field myself to run when it wasn’t in use and more than once I overlapped with the guys coming out to practice. Of course, I got out of their way, but we became casually acquainted as they came on the field and I left.

The first encounter, like most first encounters, wasn’t planned. I was finishing up a four-mile run, sixteen laps around the track, when a hunky teenager came up the slope to the track in a pair of yellow onion-skin shorts. I didn’t recognize him because it was shortly after I’d moved back. Onion-skins are thin anyway, and these were skimpy to the point of being obscene. Not to me, of course. I thought he looked hot as hell in them, with every inch of his muscular thighs showing and sometimes a glimpse of his butt when he moved a certain way. I didn’t see any sign of a jock through the thin material, just the skimpy built-in supporter. He was easily over six feet tall and weighed at least one-eighty, too heavily muscled to be a runner, I thought. He was running just for cardio, or for some other sport.

Sweat was running down my chest, soaking into the waistband of my shorts, and the crotch of my shorts was dark with sweat.

“How many laps do you do?” the boy asked as he began doing stretching exercises. And when he did, I could see right up into his crotch and I saw some kind of supporter. He didn’t seem to care that he was showing himself.

“Sixteen today,” I said.

“What’s your best?”

“I don’t have a best. I just run what I feel like running,” I said.

“You’re in damned good shape,” he observed.

“For a guy my age,” I said.

“For a guy any age. I’ve got friends my age who would kill to have a build like yours.”

“They’re young enough to have it a hell of a lot easier than it is for me,” I said. I could see that he was ready to start running. “Well, I gotta shower,” I remarked as I headed for my back door.

“You live there?” he asked, nodding towards the house.

“Yes. I was raised here. I just moved back after my parents died. I went to school here.”

“That was handy,” he said.

“Yeah, I wasn’t late for school very often,” I said.

He gave me a little wave and took off running and I stood and watched him till he rounded the other end of the track then I went inside where I stood at the kitchen window and watched him come down the track. He was nothing short of beautiful, all those rippling muscles in motion. He looked like a young stallion. The bulge in front of his shorts bounced and jolted from side to side as his feet hit the ground. I thought it was a good thing he was wearing some kind of a jock with the weight of that much meat bouncing around. I decided against the shower. Instead, I went outside to work in the yard, to clean out the flowerbeds and be where I could watch him and he could see me. I wanted to get better acquainted with this kid.

He bested me with eighteen laps. He ran down the track towards me and loped off into the grass, his powerful chest heaving. His muscles glistened with sweat.

“How many?” I asked.

“Eighteen,” he said between deep breaths of air.

“You did that just to best me,” I said.

“Could be, but you’ll probably best me next time, or any time you want to.”

“You’re not built like a runner,” I said.

“I’m not a runner, and I can sure tell it. I like to build up my lung capacity for football,” he said as he swiped the sweat off his chest and stomach.

“I was just going in to get something cold to drink, looks like you could use something,” I said as I reared back onto my feet from the flowerbed I was working in.

“Cold water would be great,” he said.

“Come on in,” I said, taking off my gloves.

He followed me inside where I got two bottles of water out of the fridge. While he was gulping it down I got a towel out of the drawer.

“Here, you could use a sweat rag, too.”

“Thanks.” He took the towel and wiped the sweat off his face and neck and chest, and off the small of his back.

I wished he’d left it; I would’ve been only too happy to lick the sweat off of him. Maybe next time, after we got better acquainted.

In the closer confines of the kitchen I could smell the manly odor of his fresh sweat. I missed it; the smell of sweat and the locker room.

“Did you play sports when you were in school,” he asked.

“Yeah, and I still miss it,” I said. “Hell, I even miss the smell of the locker room and sweaty jockstraps,” I added, laughing and glanced down at the front of his shorts, but I didn’t think he noticed. I didn’t want to be too obvious, but I wouldn’t mind if he noticed me looking at him. I didn’t want to let this kid out of my house but I didn’t want to spook him either. And I wanted to find out how old he was. At first glance, the way he was built, I wouldn’t have thought he needed an ID to get into bars, but up close, I could see the youth and innocence in his eyes.

“Hey, thanks for the water,” he said. “And the towel.”

“No sweat. You don’t have to rush off, you’re welcome to stick around and cool down,” I said.

“I need a shower real bad,” he said. He pulled the waistband of his shorts out and let it smack against his stomach.

“Got one of those, too,” I said.

“Hey, I would take you up on it, but I don’t have a change of clothes.”

“Got some of those, too,” I said.

“You’re real accommodating,” he said, laughing.

“I can be very accommodating; I just have to know what you need and want.” I leveled a gaze at him with that remark that he couldn’t ignore, no matter how innocent or young he was. It was so strong he probably felt my eyes on him. But maybe not. He wasn’t quick to respond. I guessed he hadn’t had another guy come on to him before, and he either didn’t know I was coming onto him, or he wasn’t sure how to react.

“The offer of a shower still holds, but you don’t smell all that bad to me,” I said in an even tone.

“Look, mister, I…….”

“Call me Calvin. I know I’m old enough to be your Dad, but I’m not old enough to be called mister,” I cut in.

“Calvin. I don’t know anybody named Calvin.”

“Let’s hope I’m the only one,” I said.

“I’m Brady. I was just going to say, you’re old enough to be my Dad,” he pointed out.

“Is that a problem?” I asked. I wasn’t so sure that’s what he was going to say; I thought he had chickened out.

“No,” he replied quickly. “No, I just meant, I was raised to respect my elders.”

“Now you’re really stretching it, calling me an elder.”

“I didn’t mean it that way…heck, you look more like you could be my older brother.”

“Do you have brothers?”

“No, just an older sister.”

“I never had a younger brother,” I said. “I could be your older brother,” I added in a measured tone. “If you ever need one.” There was a brief, awkward pause.

“I…I better be going,” he said, placing the bottle on the counter.

When he started for the door I went ahead of him to open it and let him out. When he came up even with me I put my hand on his shoulder and said, “Next time you go running, come pound on the door, I’ll run with you.”

“Okay, it’d be good to have a running partner,” he said.

“And bring a change of clothes,” I said.

I didn’t remove my hand from his shoulder, which I thought gave him pause. I didn’t want this guy to leave and loose the little momentum I thought I’d gained. When he sort of glanced around at my hand I moved it down to his arm and squeezed his bicep.

“Dam nice arms,” I said.

“Thanks,” he said, and flexed the triceps for me.

“Dam nice everything,” I said, as I moved my hand down and squeezed his side. There was no fat there. When he didn’t make any move to go I moved my hand across his abs. “You don’t mind me doing this, do you; admiring your muscles?”

“N-no, I…I don’t mind anybody admiring my body,” he said huskily.

I had him. It was like he was glued to the floor, his feet set. I rubbed my hand around his stomach several times then moved up and rubbed back and forth across his thick, hard chest. I moved my hand back down, lower on his abs this time, till my fingertips slipped under the waistband of his shorts.

“Do you mind if I do this?” I asked as I shoved my hand down inside his shorts and cupped it around his bulging jockstrap.

“No, I guess not,” he said.

“Don’t guess,” I said.

“No, I don’t mind,” he said quickly.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t,” I said as I squeezed his manhood. “I could tell you’ve got a lot packed in that jockstrap, but fuck!” I said.

“There’s going to be a lot more in a minute,” he said.

I tugged on the side of his shorts just to see if he was going to let me go all the way. They were tied snug around his waist with a cord, and he hooked his thumbs inside the waist to pull them down but I stopped him.

“I’ll take ‘em off,” I said. I pulled my hand out of his shorts and dropped down to my haunches in front of him. I untied the cord holding his shorts up and crooked my fingers inside his shorts and pulled them down, turned inside out.

“Wow!” I said when I saw the bulge of the built-in jock. I spread my hand over the bulge and squeezed.

“I’m afraid my jock is pretty damp, might be pretty rank,” he said. “But you said you missed the smell of the locker room and sweaty jocks.”

“I do,” I said as I leaned in and pressed my face against his jockstrap. “Aahhh! I’ve missed that,” I said.

“Did you do this when you were in school? I mean, smell guys sweaty jockstraps?”

“Not with them in it,” I said. “I never got up the nerve to do anything when I was in school. But I picked up a couple of warm, damp jockstraps and stuffed them in my gym bag. I’ve still got ‘em, in fact,” I said.

“That’s weird.”

“Not if you like sweaty jockstraps,” I said. I was mouthing his jock, making it wet with my spit, and he was smashing his manhood against my face. I could feel him coming alive, his cock expanding. Fuck, he was going to be big. The supporter barely contained him, which explained why everything bounced around when ran.

He brought my head forward and gently smashed the bulging pouch of his jock in my face.

“You said you like sweaty jockstraps? Mine is damp with sweat.”

“Awwhhh, yeah,” I whispered as I sucked in the aroma. I pulled his shorts down his muscular thighs and the jock came with it. His cock swung out in a majestic arch. He was neatly cut with a large head with a wide flange. “Fuck, that’s nice,” I said as I lifted his feet to remove his shorts. I clasped my hands around his thighs and felt them tremble. “Do you need to sit down?” I asked.

“No, I…I’m a little nervous. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

I pulled out a chair. He sat down and spread his legs out. His cock had grown by leaps and bounds, and stood up over his stomach. It throbbed and quivered with a steady rhythm.

“Do you want a beer to steady your nerves?”

“No, thanks.”

“Listen, why don’t you sit up on the butcher block.”

He moved and when he was situated, I eased him back across the block with his legs hanging over the edge. Then I leaned over and began licking his balls.

“Ohhhhhh!” he moaned softly, and splayed his legs out wider.

I licked his crotch on either side of his balls and lifted them to nuzzle under them. I could see his cock bobbing up and down over his stomach. When I rose up I saw the puddle of precum on his stomach and more was oozing out. I pulled his cock upright and licked it off then went down on him.

“AAAaawwhhhhhh!” he cried out.

I gave him a few strokes. “You’ve never had a girl do this for you? I thought girls were into giving head these days.”

“Don’t we all wish. One tried, but she never went down that far, then she backed off.” His voice was quivery.

“Well, I won’t back off, I promise,” I said. I went back down on him and he let out another groan. I sucked him with a slow reverence, savoring every inch, every throb. I was working up to the next surprise, using my spit to lube up the entire shaft and gradually forcing my throat open with the head of his cock. I don’t think he was expecting it when I swallowed him down to the fine hairs.

“Ohh, My Godd!” he groaned loudly. He raised his head, his eyes wide. “Fuck, my cock’s gone! Damn, how do you do that?”

I gulped on his cock several times then moved my mouth up and down so he was fucking my throat. Then I rose up. “Sorry, I couldn’t talk, had my mouth full,” I said.

“How do you DO that?”

“I can show you if you want,” I said.

“No, not me, I mean, how do you get all that in your throat without choking? You didn’t even gag.”

“Practice. And you gotta want it,” I said. “Are you sure you don’t want me to show you? You could be the first in the locker room to know how to deep throat,” I said jokingly.

“I’m afraid that’s one talent I wouldn’t have any use for.”

I went back down on him and began sucking his virginity out of him. He was unable to lie still across the butcher block. He flailed his legs out and brought them straight out, stiff, his massive thigh muscles bulging. He raised them up on either side of my head and used his stomach muscles to hunker up to meet my mouth. I clasped my hands around the back of his thighs and held them there while I sucked is cock and licked his balls. I eyed his butt and the slightly hairy crevice but opted to wait another time for that. I didn’t want to overload him. He put his hands on top of my head and humped my mouth harder. I thought he might be getting close.

“Calvin, you’re getting me awfully close. What do I do, do you want me to cum in your mouth?”

I rose up. “I would love to take your load, and I will, but I would like to see you cum.”

“However you want it,” he said.

“I hope there will be more times like this. I’ll take your load next time. I like to see you cum so I know what I’m in for.”

“Okay. I’ll warn you to get off,” he said.

I went back down on him. His warning came in the nick of time. I got off a split second before the first salvo of cum shot out of his cock as his body convulsed. It shot straight up about six feed and fell to land on his stomach. I aimed his cock and the next ones shot up over his head and shoulder before the stuff started sliding across his chest and stomach. I could hear the splats against the refrigerator door. Brady’s legs went weak and came to rest across my shoulders.

“Damn! I want to see it, but I wish I’d taken it,” I said.

“You said next time,” he said, breathlessly.

“Definitely next time,” I said as I let his legs down. They hung limply over the edge of the butcher block. He was streaked with cum.

“I think I overshot and hit something behind me,” he said.

“You hit the refrigerator, but don’t worry about it. Man, that was a real fireworks display.” I watched his muscular chest heaving, his tight, hard abs rippling as he caught his breath. His cum was thick, clinging to his skin like glue. It made my mouth water, but I wasn’t sure I should…….

“Listen, Brady, if you don’t mind….it’s a shame to let that go to waste.”

His eyes were fluttering and he opened them to look at me; a confused look.

“I’d lick it up if you don’t mind,” I said.

“Oh. Fuck, no, I don’t mind.”

I lapped up the streaks of thick, warm cum and swallowed it as I went. At his neck he turned his head away as if he were afraid I might try to kiss him. When I had him cleaned up I pulled him upright and he stood down off the butcher block.

“Fuck, my legs are still shaking.”

“Here, have a seat till you recover,” I said, sliding a chair under him. Then I got some wet paper towels to clean off the refrigerator and the floor.

“I’m sorry. I can clean that up,” he said.

“I said don’t worry about, it’s okay, not a big deal. Well, it was a big deal, it was awesome.”

“Yeah, I cum quite a lot.”

“And damned hard,” I said.

“At least you know what you’re in for, if you still want to….do what you said.”

“I can’t wait,” I said.

The boys knew to let themselves in; I never locked the back door. I heard them come in and heard the loud clack of the lock slamming shut, then the boys coming through the kitchen. There were three of them; Hunt Ashton, Dave Bentley and a new kid who I hadn’t met. Brady had brought Aston and Bentley over and introduced them. Hunt was a tight end on the football team, tall, six-two, good-looking and built. Dave Bentley didn’t play organized sports. He was an individualist, he said, a weightlifter who was fast becoming a bodybuilder. He was good looking as all bodybuilders are and needless to say, built to a fault. The other kid that I didn’t know was shorter, more cute than handsome, and looked like a moving brick building. But he looked awfully young.

“We brought someone along, hope you don’t mind,” Hunt said as he stepped out of his sneakers without untying them.

“I see.”

“This is Cole Steele. C-O-L-E, not cold steel. He’s on the gymnastics team.”

“You look like a gymnast,” I said, taking his hand when he offered it. “But, uh……” I looked at the other two boys. “He looks awfully young.”

“I’m eighteen,” the boy said as he straightened from untying his hiking boots. He apparently knew what the other two were there for and he didn’t want to be excluded. He dug out his wallet and opened it to show me his driver’s license.

“Okay,” I said. “If that’s not a fake license,” I added.

“We wouldn’t steer you wrong,” Dave assured me as he peeled his T-shirt off over his head.

Cole did the same, and when the sight of his muscular upper body hit me, I didn’t much care if he was twelve. Fuck, he was built! His pecs and nipples made my mouth water. So were the other two, of course, but Cole was so tight and compact you thought he might squeak when he moved. I went to the kitchen to get some cokes while the boys finished undressing. I grabbed the bottle of rum out of the cabinet as well. It was Saturday, so they wouldn’t be going back to class.

Godd, what a sight when I went back into the living room. Three young, naked gods. Two young, naked, hung gods. Hunt was HUNG. Nine inches; we measured him one time. Dave wasn’t as big, but his body made up for it. That, and he was so thick that he looked stubby, but he measured a good seven inches, plenty of meat on a high school kid. I was pleased to see that Cole sported a more than respectable hunk of meat. He was as big as Dave but he looked bigger because of his smaller stature.

I was always pretty careful about who I let into my house. I steered clear of the scrawny little freshmen and sophomores, or even the hunky little freshmen and sophomores, and I was cautious about the juniors. There were a couple of juniors I let in, but mostly I concentrated on the seniors who I knew were eighteen. Others, I sometimes asked their age and just took their word for it.

“Aren’t you going to strip down?” Hunt asked me.

“Yeah, and when’re you going to start serving us beer?” asked Dave.

“When you’re old enough to drink beer,” I said. I had always steered clear of going down that path, serving beer to underage kids, but had recently re-thought it. “Meanwhile, this will have to do,” I added, holding up the bottle of Bacardi.

“I never tasted rum before,” Hunt said.

Neither had the other two boys.

“Come help me get some ice,” I said to Hunt. I went into the kitchen again and Hunt followed me.

“I think Cole’s gay,” he whispered. “I think he thinks he’s gay. We figured you could help him out with it.”

“How am I supposed to help him find out if he’s gay?”

“Well, we figured if he saw you sucking our cocks…you know, a big macho stud like you…he would feel more open to his own feelings.”

“So you and Dave would have a mouth handy any time you want it,” I said.

“Yeah, but that wouldn’t leave you out in the cold. It’s not like we could drop our jeans and let him suck us off in the hallway at school. We would all keep coming over here.”

“If he’s gay, he’ll face it on his own, in his own time,” I said. “Of course, the rum might help,” I added with a smile.

“We were thinking, though, if you showed him…what I mean is, don’t take us into the bedroom one at a time, but do us right in the living room when we’re all there…or all of us go into the bedroom.”

“Sounds like you and Hunt have been giving this some thought,” I said, smiling.

“If you don’t want to…I mean, it’s your house, your rules, you know we’ll take it any way you’re willing to give it to us.”

“If your friend is gay, I can better draw him out if it’s just him and me,” I said. “Why don’t you guys suggest that he show up here by himself sometime, and we’ll see what develops.”

“Cool. We’d just like to know.”

“But I’m not going to tell you what goes on between me and Cole,” I said. “If it goes the way you seem to think it will, he’ll have to be the one to let you know.”

“Fair enough. We respect that, keeping things private,” he said.

I invited them into the bedroom where I feasted on all three, virile, muscular young studs.

Cole showed up the following Monday. He was out on the track and he came loping across the yard when he saw me drive up. I didn’t know if he made it a point to beat the any guys there, or if it had somehow been arranged that he come by himself.

“Hey, Cole,” I greeted him.

“Hey, Calvin. The other guys said to tell you they couldn’t make it.”

“Did you hang around just to deliver that message, or can you come in for a minute?” I asked, as I unlocked the door.

“I can come for a little while; I’ve got time,” he said.

Inside, I took the thick, red rubber band off the hook and wrapped it around the doorknob. It was signal I had devised to let others know that I wasn’t to be disturbed. Sometimes I just wanted the evening or the night or the day to myself. Not often, but other times I wanted to be alone with someone, like Cole.

“Should I offer you a beer?” I asked

“No, thanks. I’m driving, and I don’t it on my breath. I’ve got this,” he said, taking a bottle of poppers out of his pocket.

“You shouldn’t be using that shit, Cole, it makes you just high enough long enough to do stuff you wouldn’t otherwise do.”

“Or just high enough long enough to do stuff I think I wanta do but I need the courage to do it,” he said. “It’s not drugs, it wears off too quick.”

“I need to shower,” I said, peeling off my sweaty T-shirt.

“Okay, I’ll wait,” he said.

I started to go into the bedroom. I stopped and asked Cole, “Do you wanta join me?

“Fuck, yeah, if there’s room,” he said eagerly.

“There’s plenty of room. It’s one of those big old bathrooms with dual shower heads.”

The shower was the perfect situation to get the boy warmed up to facing what the others said he was probably dealing with. He was eager and anxious; he was the first one undressed. At each side of the wide shower, there were two showerheads coming out of the wall and one overhead. I reached around Cole to help adjust the three showers then moved to the other side.

“This is great. They don’t make showers like this anymore, do they,” he said as he started soaping up.

“Not unless you order it custom-made,” I said. When he was reaching around and over his shoulders to wash his back, I stepped over and took the soap from him. “Need a hand?”

“Thanks.” He laughed softly. “You don’t dare offer or accept an offer like that in the showers at school,” he said.

“Too bad everybody has to be so up tight over the human body,” I said.

“I can tell you’re not; you came right out and invited me to shower with you.”

“I don’t think you’re so uptight either; you accepted,” I said. I didn’t stop with his back and shoulders. I ran my soapy hands over his taut butt as I squatted down to wash his legs. When I stood up I ran my hands around front, over his stomach, and boldly moved them down with the soap in one hand, to wash his crotch. It was natural to press my manhood against his butt, and he didn’t recoil. Before I relinquished the bar of soap I returned to his butt, washing deep between the tight muscles. “Wanta make sure everything’s good and clean, just in case,” I murmured in his ear. He laughed and said, “Yeah.” He knew what I was talking about; I had rimmed him before.

I think he thought I was going to do him right there in the shower. I would have, but there was more on the plate this time than just servicing the young stud. I could see that I surprised him when I handed him the soap and said, “Your turn.”

He took the soap, rather reluctantly, and when I turned my back, he started soaping up my shoulders.

“I, uh…I’ve never done this before…washed another guy’s back,” he said in a hoarse voice.

“We used to do it all the time,” I lied.

He washed down my back but barely touched my butt, and squatted down as I had, to wash my legs. I waited, to see if he would wash my ass on the way back up. He didn’t. But he did reach around with the soap and both hands on my stomach. I waited again, to see if he would go lower. I was more than a little surprised when he moved his hands down to my crotch, but he was careful to avoid actually touching my cock. He wasn’t so careful about pressing his cock against my butt. He raised one hand, handing me the soap.

We rinsed off, turned off the showers and I tossed him a towel. I dried off first and stretched out on the bed. Again, I wanted to see what he would do. I lay in a position of invitation, with my legs spread out and my hands behind my head. He dug the poppers out of his pocket then came to the bed and put one knee in the edge of the mattress, stroking his cock. I reached out with one arm to urge him to straddle my chest. He climbed on and stroked his cock right in my face.

“Let’s try to make this last,” I said, then I took him.

Cole was a little hottie. The eye candy of his smooth muscles bulging and rippling was almost as good as his cock in my mouth. Certainly, watching him enhanced the sex. At one point he pulled out and hunkered higher up over my face, offering me his balls, then his butt. I serviced both. I pulled his taut butt muscles apart and tongued his ass. He loved that. Then he eased back down and gave me his cock again. I saw him uncap the poppers and take a snort in each nostril. Then another, and another. I almost reached up for the bottle, but he capped it again. The stuff kicked in and I could see him floating off. Suddenly he rose up.

“I wanta try sixty-nine,” he said huskily as he turned around and straddled me on his hands and knees. He didn’t hesitate. He went right down on me. He went too far and choked, lifted his head and started sucking me. Suddenly I was glad for the poppers.

With the help of a few more snorts of the poppers, Cole really got into it. I didn’t know if he was gay or not, and I didn’t figured he knew either, but he sure as hell wanted to find out. While he was sailing was a perfect time to explore his fine ass with my fingers. A while later I noticed the poppers laying off to the side. As the sixty-nine progressed, I was less and less able to hold off. I reached out for the poppers and handed them to him.

“Here, you might need this…you’re getting me close,” I told him.

He took the hint. When he was sailing again--sucking my cock like a hungry puppy--I started working it up. As I approached, I reached down and put my hand on the back of his head, letting him know for certain that I expected him to take my load. He did. He whinnied and whined and moaned as I shot his mouth full of thick, warm cum. I kept my hand on his head. He frantically took a couple more snorts of the poppers then began swallowing. He must’ve really it; seconds later, he was filling my mouth with high school boy juice.

Cole collapsed on top of me, his head laying on my hip, his cock laying against my neck. I caressed and planted kisses on his butt. Finally he shoved himself up and moved off of me, onto his haunches.

“Fuck, that was pretty awesome,” he said.

“Yeah, it was,” I agreed. I reached out and rubbed his thigh. “Did you learn anything about yourself?” I asked.

He gave me a confused scowl.

“You brought poppers,” I said. “That’s usually an indication of just what I said…makes you do things you normally wouldn’t do.”

“I wanted to do it. I came with the intention of doing it, but I didn’t know if I would have the guts,” he said.

I smiled. “How’d you like it?”

“It was surprisingly okay,” he said. “Thanks for the encouragement.”

“Encouragement?”

“Yeah, when you put your hand on my head.”

“I’m glad you took it as encouragement, not forcing you,” I said.

“You didn’t force me.”

“What’re you going to do with this newfound knowledge and experience?” I asked.

“You mean with the other guys?”

I nodded.

“I think I would like to try it on them sometime,” he said. “Have they ever done anything back?” he asked.

“I don’t talk about anything that doesn’t happen out in the open,” I said.

“So, you won’t tell anyone about me going down on you, and eating your load.”

“Absolutely not.”

I had just finished showering after mowing the lawn. I was drying off when there came a knock at the back door. If it’d been the doorbell, I would’ve slipped on some pants, but since it was the back door I wrapped the towel around my waist and went to answer it. I was more than a little surprised to see the Coach Thompson standing there. I was also a little concerned. Considering what I’d been doing with his athletes it was a little unnerving to be getting a visit from their coach.

Coach Thompson was younger than me by maybe ten years, and shorter, which made his muscular build look stockier. He was wearing dark blue, satin athletic shorts and a gray T-shirt, sneakers and a baseball cap. He wore the cap with the bill rounded down over his forehead, like the boys did.

“I think you know me, I’m Coach Thompson, from the high school,” he said, nodding to the direction of the school.

“Yes, I know who you are,” I said.

“I wonder if we could talk.”

“Sure; all right. Come on in,” I said, stepping back from the door to let him come inside. “I just got out of the shower, give me a minute…...”

He laughed. “No need to on my account,” he said. “I’m used to seeing naked bodies.”

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“Well, I’m not on duty, a cold beer would be good,” he said.

I stepped over to the refrigerator, pulled the door open and reached in for a beer. As I handed it to him the door began to swing shut and I grabbed it at the same time I reached in for another beer. I’d been holding my towel in place with the hand that I used to grab for the door, and the towel swirled to the floor.

“I never was good at doing two things at once,” I said.

The coach was quick to retrieve my towel and when I had straightened he was standing right there with it.

“Sometimes you need a hand. Here’s your towel,” he said.

Suddenly I was having strange feelings about why he was there, and I was wary.

“Come on in the living room,” I said.

He followed me into the living room and I motioned for the chair and I sat on the couch opposite him. There was a pause while we both took a drink of our beer and I waited for him to say what he had to say.

“That hits the spot,” he said.

I nodded.

“You’re wondering why I’m here.”

“I am curious,” I said.

“I’ve noticed that you have a lot of visitors from the high school. A lot of my boys seem to use your place as a hangout at noontime and even before school in the mornings.”

I thought, Oh Shit. It’s coming. He knows.

“I’ve started becoming acquainted with several of them, when they run me off the track,” I said. “It’s mostly the seniors,” I added for good measure.

“I don’t want to impose, but I wonder if you might have the time to serve as an assistant coach.”

I was taken aback and relieved.

“Well, I…I don’t know, I never thought about it.”

“You obviously have a good rapport with the boys. It wouldn’t be a paid position, which makes me all the more reluctant to ask, but I thought it would be worth a try. And there might be other perks and benefits.”

“I wouldn’t expect to be paid unless it was a full time position,” I said. I didn’t ask about the perks and benefits; I was afraid to go there. I still wasn’t sure whether he might be just trying to find out what was going on with the boys’ visits.

Coach Thompson shifted in his chair as he reached down to tug at his shorts and grope his crotch.

“I wish I didn’t have to wear a jock under these shorts, but if I didn’t I’m afraid everything might fall out,” he said, laughing,

“That could be embarrassing, even disastrous,” I said.

“So, do you think you might do it?” he asked. “I’m not pressuring you, mind you. You can take some time to think about it.”

“I could do it, as long as I’m not tied down to a specific schedule,” I said.

“I would need some kind of schedule, short term, like a week at a time, so I would know when I can count on you.”

“Of course, that wouldn’t be a problem,” I said.

“You wouldn’t happen to be familiar with sports physical therapy, sports massage, that sort of thing.”

“I’m not a trained therapist, but I think I could work the soreness out of cramped, tired muscles,” I offered.

“Yes, that sort of thing,” he said. “If you have the time, I would like to go over my coaching style, just so we’re on the same page.”

“I’m not pressed for time,” I said.

“Well, the boys would say I’m pretty hardnosed. But I’ve found that you get out of kids what you expect. And I expect a lot. I’m a bit of the old school, taken from my own father who was a high school coach and a military officer. I expect my athletes to conduct themselves as gentlemen both on and off the field. They represent the school and the community, and they are role models and I expect them to act like it. You’ve no doubt noticed that they all have high and tight haircuts, and they don’t wear their jeans so their underwear shows.”

“Yes, they are always neatly dressed, I’ve noticed.”

“I’ve been challenged on the dress code and how they wear their hair--mostly by mothers, believe it or not--but the boys understand that if I am forced to compromise on something as basic as their hair, well, there’ll be a reason why they don’t play. Drugs are absolutely out of the question. I know some of them sneak a beer now and then, maybe something harder than beer. I don’t mind that as long as they don’t drink and drive.”

“I’m glad to hear that, because I think a few of them have sneaked a few beers here,” I said.

“I would trust your judgment to control it,” he said. “There’s one more thing…something that most coaches are reluctant, even afraid, to talk about. I’m not. I think it is insane to ignore something as natural and powerful as a boy’s sex drive. They are at the prime of their lives, with testosterone boiling in their veins, and society chooses to ignore that. So I have this conversation every year when the freshmen show up in the locker room, so the rest of the boys hear it over and over again. I let them know that I recognize what they’re experiencing with their bodies, I don’t try to abolish it or ignore it. I don’t condone sexuality activity, but I don’t condemn or forbid it either. I let them know that it doesn’t drain their strength and it doesn’t adversely affect their performance.”

“I would subscribe to that,” I said. I laughed. “Hell, Coach, I remember playing my best after I jacked off just before leaving home for a game.”

“I hit that big, because I know that is the sexual activity that most of the boys are engaging in, and I don’t want them to feel ashamed or guilty about it. I tell them that jacking off--and I use that term--doesn’t do them a bit of harm, in fact, it’s a healthy exercise. And to be on the safe side, I lump in gay sex right along with everything else.”

“Oh, really.” I was surprised.

“A boy that age has enough to deal with without having to be scared about hiding or denying his sexuality.”

“And how exactly do you approach that?” I asked.

“Like I handle everything else; head on. I make it clear that a boy who happens to be of the male-male or bi-sexual persuasion is as welcome on my team as anyone else, and I emphasize, without any kind of harassment, gossip or retribution.”

“And how has that worked out?”

“I haven’t had a problem with it. Of course, I don’t know that any of my athletes are gay. There are a couple that I suspect, but they haven’t made it known. But at least I’ve shined the light on it and opened the door for them to come through if they ever want to talk about it.”

“Well, I’m glad to know you laid everything out on the table, Coach.”

“Is there anything I’ve said that you can’t live with?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then will you live with it…give it a try?”

“Yes. I think I would enjoy working with the boys. Can I get you another beer?”

“No thanks. I’m not a big drinker. I expect most of my boys could drink me under the table. One beer gives me a warm feeling, two beers give me a buzz.”

“Nothing wrong with a buzz or a warm feeling now and then. Sounds like it’s the third one that could get you into trouble.”

“Coach--I guess I can call you that, now--if you only knew the trouble I can get into with just a buzz, you wouldn’t have offered me another beer.”

“Can I get you another beer?” I asked again, laughing.

“If you’re not afraid of the consequences,” he said.

“There’s not much I am afraid of, and consequences are the least.”

“I’ll have that beer then,” he said.

“I don’t think you’re going to get drunk on two beers and trash my house,” I said as I got up to go to the kitchen.

“Not on two beers,” he said.

I wasn’t sure where the coach was coming from but I was sure he was heading somewhere. I didn’t know if that was his intent when he came to my door but I wanted to find out.

He followed me into the kitchen. When I bent down to get the beer he said, “Careful you don’t drop your shorts like you did your towel.”

I smiled and handed him his beer.

“You didn’t have to put those on, you know,” he said.

“I know, you’re used to seeing naked guys.”

“Doesn’t bother me a bit. I think it’s great, even necessary, that there’s a place like the locker room where boys can flaunt their bodies and their masculinity. I doubt many are consciously aware that’s what’s they’re doing, but it is.”

“When I was in school there were a some who were very aware,” I said.

“And I’ll bet you were one of them,” he said.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly a shrinking violet,” I said. I leaned back against the counter. Coach Thompson rested his butt against the butcher block, and I remembered the first one of his boys--Brady--that I had laid across that butcher block. “Coach, I’m really impressed with your open and direct manner that you approach your athletes. It shows compassion, understanding and courage. I applaud you for it.”

“Thanks. I do understand,” he said. “I’ve been there.”

His last three words hung there in silence will I gave him a curious smile.

He nodded, with a tight smile. “Yeah, I was one of those boys wrestling with his sexuality. I was a senior in college before I faced my demons and put them behind me.”

Okay, he was telling me where he was coming from; I had only to find out where he was headed…his real reason for being there. I decided to lay my cards on the table too.

“I was in the Marines before I did,” I said.

He smiled. “Oh,” said, surprised. “So we are on the same page.”

“I think we might be.”

“You wouldn’t be offended, then, if I asked you to take off those shorts that you didn’t need to put on. If you knew how hot you look, you wouldn’t even wear a towel to answer your door.”

“I won’t from now on,” I said. “Would you be offended if I asked you to take them off for me?” I asked boldly.

“Not at all,” he said. I went over to him and he went down on his haunches. His muscular thighs took on an even more massive look sticking out of his shorts. He pulled my shorts down and my cock swung out in a wide, heavy arch. I lifted my feet for him to take my shorts off.

“You got a bed?” he asked, looking up at me as he rubbed his big, rough hands up and down my thighs.

“In there,” I said, nodding toward the bedroom door.

We went into the bedroom and I stretched out on the bed. “If you knew how hot you look, you wouldn’t wear gym shorts and a T-shirt in the locker room,” I said.

“Just a jockstrap, maybe?” he said.

“I don’t know, why don’t you strip down to your jock and let me decide,” I said.

Coach Thompson peeled his T-shirt off over his head and tossed it on the foot of the bed. He was well muscled, and well defined, with just the right amount of hair on his chest, and a dark, thin line of hair down the center of his abs.

“So far, so good,” I said. “That would impress the boys, I think.”

“They’ve all seen me like this plenty of times,” he said.

“Okay, let’s give me something they haven’t seen.”

He stepped out of his sneakers as he shoved his gym shorts down. He stepped out of them and kicked them aside. His jockstrap bulged with his manhood.

“How many of them have seen you like this?” I asked.

“Several. If they happen to come to my office door when I’m changing in or out of my gym gear, I don’t make a big fuss over them seeing me.”

“That’s good. Tell me, do you notice it’s the same boy or boys that come to your office when you’re changing?”

He thought a moment then smiled. “You know, now that you mention it, yeah, there are two who seem to manage to pop in when I’m without my shirt or in just my jockstrap. Brady Jones and Cole Steele. Maybe you know them. Maybe you know which of the boys are gay. I mean, is this what you do when the boys come over?”

“I might know the two boys you mentioned, but I don’t try to remember names. But none of the boys have ever been in my bedroom,” I lied, on all counts.

“Good answer, but that didn’t answer the question.”

“Well…I can’t say the same about the butcher block,” I said with a smile. “But we have a silent pact. What goes on in my house stays in my house. It’s a matter of trust, just like you can trust me that what happens here today stays here.”

“What is gonna happen today, Coach?” he asked.

“Are you good a math?” I asked.

“I’m a history teacher, but I’m pretty good at math.”

“Then you know what 23 x 3 is.”

He smiled. “This sounds like an oral exam,” he said as he climbed on the bed, in a reverse position, apparently to show me that he knew the answer to the math problem. He took my cock in his mouth. I began playing with his ass and mauling the pouch of his jockstrap.

One day, Brady, the boy who said he wouldn’t have any use for the talent of deep throat, paid me another visit. It was probably his sixth or seventh time, and we didn’t get right to the sex like the other times. He seemed a bit nervous, not his funny, outgoing self.

“What’s up, Brady?” I asked finally.

“I’m, uh…I’m embarrassed to bring this up…..”

“Considering everything we’ve done, I can’t imagine why you would be embarrassed about anything with me.”

“Do you happen to remember the first time I was here, and you offered to show me how to deep throat…you said it like you were joking but I think you were only half joking….and I said……”

“Yes, you said it was a talent you wouldn’t have any use for,” I finished for him.

He swallowed hard and his face was a little flushed. “I’ve always had this tremendous respect and admiration for the coach…...”

“I think Coach Thompson is widely admired and respected,” I said, noticing the way his words trailed off.

“Well, lately, I…I’m starting to realize that it might be…well, more than just admiration. Maybe infatuation? I don’t know, but definitely a strong attraction that I never realized or admitted before.” His voice was suddenly hoarse and he had to clear his throat then he swallowed the lump. “You know how much I enjoy coming over here and…and doing the stuff we do.”

“No more than I do,” I said.

“Well, it’s got me thinking…about stuff that I’ve been hiding from myself. It’s just that…well, the coach seems to be getting friendlier lately, cracking jokes and stuff. I may be way off base--hell, he’s probably straight as an arrow--but I think he might be, you know, straight but coming on to me…opening the door for something to see if I respond.”

He paused and I waited.

“Well, if he is…and the way I’ve been re-thinking things…if it somehow comes out in the open between us, I…I wanta be able to respond, you know, I wanta know what I’m doing.”

“You’re saying, you think you wanta do Coach Thompson,” I said.

“You understand, I’ve never done anything like that…I never even thought about it till just recently…but I was wondering if…well, if you would teach me that talent that I said I wouldn’t have any used for, cause I think I might have a use for it now.” Having said it, I think he found his courage, and he looked me right in the eye. “I want you to teach me how to deep throat.”

I tried not to appear surprised. “As in, I explain and demonstrate? Or do you want hands-on experience; or should I say mouth-on?”

“I wanta know what I’m doing. Yeah, I wanta do it,” he said.

“Well, its not rocket science,” I said.

“But I don’t wanta try it on him for my first time and choke and gag or possibly throw up.”

I smiled, nodding toward the bedroom. We stripped down, him on one side of the bed, me on the other, then climbed into bed. I reached for his cock. He wasn’t hard yet, like he usually was. I figured he was nervous. He was usually bone hard from anticipation by the time he got his clothes off.

“Okay, I’m going to explain it, then demonstrate the techniques, then you can try it,” I said.

He nodded.

“First thing is to make sure his cock is well lubed before you try going all the way down on him. Use spit to slick it up, all the way down to the root. There’s stuff you can use--a spray--that will desensitize your throat muscles, but I consider that cheating, and you won’t get the full effect of it. Besides, it can deaden his cock a little, too. Actually, it’s more mind over matter. And you gotta want it. You do, and that helps. Don’t just start sucking his cock then go right down on him. Get comfortable with what you’re doing. Work both of you up to it. Once you’ve got his cock slicked up and you’re comfortable with it, then start pushing the envelope. Go down a little harder on him, pushing the head of his cock harder against your throat each time. Pretty soon you’ll build up your confidence and become more relaxed. That doesn’t mean your throat muscles are going to relax, but you will be, and you’ll be able to take the plunge. When you’re ready to do that, push you tongue forward along the underside of his cock then just slide his cock across it, like a chute. That will open your throat some and the head will push through easier. Big rule…don’t panic. Just go for it. You’re not going to choke to death. Once you get past the head, it’ll be easier. Work your way all the way down the shaft till your nose is in his pubes, then hold him there for as long as you can. If you feel your gag reflex kick in, try to subdue it. If you have to get off of it, don’t jerk back, just move your mouth back nice and slow.”

I paused and he nodded.

“Okay, I’ll show you what I just told you.” I leaned over him and took his cock in my mouth. I slurped him a few times and let plenty of spit slide down the shaft, then I demonstrated the techniques I’d just explained. After a few minutes, I rose, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

“I made that look easier than it’s going to be for you at first,” I said. “I don’t know who all you might be planning to try this on, but here are a few more tips. If you’re on your knees in front of a guy, his cock is probably sticking up at a sharp angle. If he’s got a slight upward curve, it’s really sticking up. That’s counter to the contour of your throat, and it’s hard to swallow a cock from that position. Same if you are on your knees between his legs, lying down. Turn around on the bed so you’re facing the curve. That sometimes makes a guy nervous, especially if he’s straight; he thinks you want him to suck you. Don’t turn so you’re offering him your cock. If he wants it, he’ll reach for it. It is a perfect compromising position. And sixty-nine is the absolute best position for deep throating a guy. You’ll be surprised how easy you can go down on a very large cock, curve and all, in this position. Another good way, no matter what size or shape he is, is to lay across the bed with your head and shoulders hanging over the edge of the mattress. Have his straddle your head and feed you his cock. It’s a straight shoot right into your throat.”

“All right, I can remember that,” he said.

“If the guy’s got a slight downward curve, you’re in luck. Just do it, he’s built to fit the contour of your throat. Do you have any questions?”

“Yeah, how do I breathe?”

I laughed. “Same as you always do. Believe it or not, you can breathe with a cock buried in your throat. It’s not lack of air that causes you to choke, it’s panic that sets off your gag reflex.

He nodded as if he understood.

“You ready to try it?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He laughed. “I’ve been going over it in my mind as you were doing it.”

“Don’t bother trying to rehearse it in your head. Just do it; it’ll come to you. You’ll be surprised how natural it feels when you try it.”

“Can we try the position with me lying across the bed?” he asked.

“No, let’s get you used to just sucking cock first.” I laughed. “If you don’t like sucking cock, and you might not, then you don’t have to worry about deep-throating. But if you do like it, don’t worry, we’ll try every position.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He crawled on the bed between my legs. He was cautious at first, holding my cock in his hand, inspecting it from all angles. “Damn, you’ve got a big cock,” he said.

“Take heart. I’ve never found a cock I couldn’t deep throat,” I said. “There’s one other trick if the guy is really big. Take his cock before he gets completely hard, while he’s rubbery, with some flexibility. His cock will conform perfectly to your throat.”

“I guess it’s too late for that this time,” he said, laughing as he eyed my hard cock. He brushed his lips over the head, which was slick with oozing precum. Then he touched the underside with his tongue, then licked it. Apparently satisfied with the taste, he opened his mouth. There was a slight hesitation and he took in a breath then took the head of my cock into his mouth.

“OOOhhhhh,” I moaned softly.

He rose up with a smile. “Am I that good already?”

“You’ve got a wonderful tongue, like soft sandpaper,” I said.

He went back down and began sucking me. He was good; like he really wanted to learn. I eased him off when he tried several times to deep throat me.

“Wait and try that in another position. Just suck it for now,” I said. I let him practice for a while, laying my hands on his head to guide him. He followed my lead well; he was a good student. After a while he lifted his head, wiping the drool off his mouth.

“Can we try that other position now? I still haven’t learned to deep throat you.”

I moved off the bed so he could stretch out. I pulled him further across the bed so his head and shoulders were off the edge of the mattress. He let his head hang down and opened his mouth.

“Stick out your tongue,” I told him.

He shoved his tongue out and I hunkered down and slid my cock across it. I went right into his throat. He groaned and started to gag but quickly realized that it was just panic; he could breath fine. I shoved in deep as I could and pressed my balls against his forehead. I held for a moment then eased back a little and began sliding back and forth, very gently fucking his throat

“Aaaaggghhhhh.” He wasn’t gagging or choking, just groaning aloud.

When I started to ease back more he reached up and clasped his hands around my butt to pull me back in. He was doing fine. I fucked his throat for a few minutes then eased back out. He lifted his head, all smiles.

“Damn, that was good! And a lot easier than I thought it would be.”

I lay on the bed and we tried the other positions. I showed him how to turn around so he was facing my feet so he could swallow my cock easier, and how to position himself so he wasn’t offering himself but he was within easy reach if his partner was interested.

“Don’t move any closer to him,” I said. “If he’s really straight, you might spook him. But….” I put my hand around his thigh to urge him to straddle my head so we could sixty-nine. “If he is interested, he’ll make a move something like this.”

Before I took his cock in my mouth, I said, “I don’t know if you’ll like the taste of cum. You definitely need to try it, but then if you don’t like it, and you still want to get the guy off, a good way is to have his cock in your throat when he cums, that way the stuff misses your taste buds.”

He rose up off of my cock to say, “I want find out, so I want you to cum in my mouth.”

We sixty-nined for quite a long time. He became quite exuberant and I certainly enjoyed sucking his cock. I had to tell him something else.

“If you are lucky to find yourself in this position with your coach, try to gauge your own climax along with his, but try to let him start cumming first. There’s a good chance he’ll be so hot and caught up in it that he’ll take your load as well.”

“Will he warn me, do you think?” he asked.

“Maybe, maybe not. After a few times, you’ll be able to tell.”

I shot off in his mouth. I didn’t warn him. He moaned with surprise but he stayed on my cock. I gave him a big load. I felt him swallow but I didn’t know if it was a dry swallow. Barely seconds after I started cumming he dumped his load in my mouth. I swallowed every drop. He was delicious. Moments later I realized that he had swallowed mine as well.

He rose up, gasping. “Godd! You cum like a horse! I didn’t know if I could get all of that down!”

“How’d you like it?” I asked.

“Not bad. Not good, but I think it’s being caught up in it that makes it taste okay. So, overall, how’d I do?”

“You did great. I think your biggest hurdle will be connecting with the coach,” I said.

“Yeah, I haven’t figured out how I’m going to do that.”

“Why don’t you let him do it,” I said. “You said he seems to be getting friendlier. When he starts getting friendly again, you just get friendly back. If there’s anything there, he’ll catch it, and him being the coach, it’ll be more or less instinctive for him to make the move.”

It was the first time I’d given cock-sucking lessons, and I was anxious to hear how things worked out for Brady. The next time he showed up at my door, I knew from the smile on his face that all had gone well.

“You’re don’t have to tell me,” I said as I let him in.

“Godd, it was awesome,” he said excitedly.

“Let me get you a beer, then I want you to tell me first how it all went down. Who made the first move?”

The End

Posted: 11/20/09