The locker room reeked of sweat and soap when Coach Rick slammed the door behind us. "Strip, Jake.
Now." His voice was gravel and command, the same tone he used on the field, but this time it hit my cock like a fist.
I peeled off my jersey, then my shorts. My dick was already half-hard from the way he'd eyed me during practice. Rick was built like a bullthick arms, graying chest hair, and a bulge that never quit in those tight coaching shorts. At 45 he still looked like he could break me in half, and I wanted it.
"Turn around. Hands on the bench." He didn't wait. His palm cracked across my ass, hard enough to sting. "You've been teasing me all season with that tight hole. Time to pay up."
I gripped the wooden bench and spread my legs. Rick dropped to his knees behind me and buried his face between my cheeks. His tongue was rough and wet, licking straight over my hole in long, filthy strokes. "Fuck, coach," I groaned. He grunted and shoved two fingers in without warning, pumping them deep while he sucked on my balls from behind.
"Shut up and take it," he growled. His fingers curled, nailing my prostate, and my cock jerked, dripping onto the floor. He stood, unzipped, and slapped his thick cock against my ass. It was heavy, veined, and already leaking. He spat on it once and pressed the head against my hole.
"Push back," he ordered. I did. The burn was immediate as that fat head popped inside. Rick didn't ease inhe drove forward until his balls slapped my taint. "Goddamn, you're tight. Been saving this ass for me?"
He fucked like he coached: relentless. Every thrust bottomed out, stretching me wide, the slap of skin echoing off the lockers. His hands clamped my hips hard enough to bruise. "Tell me how it feels," he demanded.
"Feels like you're splitting me open, coach. Fuck me harder."
He yanked my hair, arching my back, and pounded faster. The bench scraped forward with each slam. Pre-cum and spit ran down my thighs. Rick reached around and jerked my cock in time with his thrusts, thumb rubbing the head rough and fast.
"Gonna breed this hole," he snarled. His rhythm broke into short, brutal jabs. I felt his cock swell, then pulse hot and thick inside me. Rope after rope of cum flooded my guts while he kept grinding, milking every drop.
He didn't pull out right away. Instead he shoved two fingers in alongside his softening dick, pushing his load deeper. "Clean me up," he said, pulling free and turning me around. I dropped to my knees and sucked his cock clean, tasting his cum and my own ass. He watched with a smirk, then hauled me up and bent me over the bench again.
"Round two. Don't move." This time he used his own cum as lube, sliding back in easier but still thick. He fucked me slower, deeper, one hand wrapped around my throat while the other stroked me until I shot across the bench. My ass clamped down and he came again, growling filthy praise.
When he finally pulled out, cum leaked down my legs. Rick wiped it up with his fingers and fed it to me. "Same time tomorrow after practice," he said, zipping up. "And tell no one. This stays between us."
I nodded, legs shaking, already hard again at the thought. The coach always got what he wanted.
