All Male Fiction: I Spy (Part 3)

By: Unknown Author

Read Part 2 | Read Part 1

Several weeks later, Eric found himself in another predicament. Shortly after his steamy encounter with Andy in the coach's office, Coach Anson had been suspended by the school board on unspecified grounds. Everyone knew the reason though. Rumors had spread that school employees and students were fucking in the men's locker room. Charges were not laid, as there was no proof found, but even so, parents didn't want Coach Anson around their kids after that, and he was not expected to return to Southfield High.

Eric felt bad about the coach's situation and, given that Alex Diego, Andy Garner, the coach, and Eric were the only ones who knew what had been going on in the coach's office, he wanted to make sure the coach understood that he hadn't told anyone or started the rumor. He didn't think Coach Anson would agree to meet with him, though, so he decided he'd just drop by the coach's house and pay him a surprise visit instead.

The coach lived in a small ranch-style house on the far edge of town. Friday night, after Eric's parents were asleep, he rode his bike out to Coach Anson's house. Eric knocked on the front door, but no one answered. As he went to leave, he saw that there was a light on in a room on the side of the house. He wondered if that was Coach Anson's bedroom and if he might be undressing. He couldn't help himself and, after hiding his bike behind some bushes, crept around to the side of the building.

The small window was a couple of feet above Eric's eye level, but he stood on the air-conditioning unit and stared inside. Eric saw a bachelor's bedroom - a few pieces of furniture, a king-size bed with white sheets, and a closet with athletic clothes stuffed in at all angles. The light came from a lamp next to the bed. No one was in the room.

Just then, Eric saw Coach Anson strut into the bedroom from the hallway, and he was fully naked, with a towel slung over his shoulder. He was dry, so Eric figured he was only just about to take a shower. He watched the coach's big cock sway between his muscular thighs, as he walked over and took something from the dresser drawer. Eric couldn't see what, as the coach's back was now to him, but he could see the coach's broad, muscular shoulders, his rippling back, and his tight, muscular ass. He took in the sight until Coach Anson walked back out of the bedroom.

Eric's curiosity to see Coach Anson in the shower overwhelmed him. He pushed up on the double-hung window and happily found that it wasn't latched. He quietly slid it open and stepped cautiously through. He quietly pushed the window closed again, before tiptoeing across the room to the open bedroom door.

The sound of Coach Anson's shower filled the hallway; wisps of steam escaped through the bathroom door that was slightly ajar. Eric crept over to the door, pushed it slowly, and peered in. Steam fogged up the bathroom mirror that ran the length of the room. The coach had various bathroom items along the wall near his sink – aftershave, shaving cream, cologne, workout supplements, and... What the fuck was that? Right next to the shower was an eight-inch, flesh-colored dildo standing on its base. Eric had never seen anything like it; he took in a quick breath to regain his composure.

Coach Anson stood in the shower, behind a clear, slightly opaque shower curtain. Due to the bathroom ceiling lights, Eric could make out the coach's silhouette - his meaty shoulders, his bulging pecs, his powerful back, his thick glutes, and his bulging prick. Eric watched in awe as Coach Anson soaped up his cock and massaged it in his soapy hands.

Eric's attention quickly returned to the eight-inch dildo standing erect outside the shower. As he nervously and boldly opened the door wider and took a few steps into the bathroom to get a better look at it, he slid on the bathroom tile floor. He caught himself, but not before his right foot smacked the underside of the sink with a loud slap.

Coach Anson was startled by the unexpected noise and dropped his soap on the tub floor. His hand brushed back the shower curtain to see his intruder standing in his bathroom. He stared at Eric, while Eric's eyes absorbed the sight of Coach Anson standing naked and wet. The coach's muscular 5'10", 190-pound frame glistened from the steamy hot shower, and his nipples became erect from the cold breeze of the bathroom. The coach's cock stood semi-erect below a dense bush of wet pubic hair, and was all covered in soap suds; his balls were shaved smooth.

Eric tried to turn and bolt, but Coach Anson stepped out of the shower and tackled him, knocking Eric to the floor, just outside the bathroom door. He then roughly flipped Eric over onto his back. "Eric Anderson! I don't know what the fuck you think you're doing here, breaking into my house in the middle of the night, but you're not going anywhere just yet!" Coach Anson bellowed with authority.

All Male Fiction: On the Mat

By: Unknown Author & Ryan Michaels

It was a grueling practice. The coach had worked us hard, trying to get us ready for the meet that was coming up against our rival school. Their wrestling team always beat us, but this year Coach was determined that we would win. So he was always on our butts, pushing us harder and harder, regularly keeping one of us after practice for extra coaching. A lot of guys on the team would grumble in the locker room about how hard the coach would work us during practice, but not me. I enjoyed the hard, sweaty workouts with the team. It gave us some team spirit, not to mention a common "enemy" - Coach Meyer.

One thing you gotta say for Coach, he knew his business. He was the top in his weight class in college, and here he was, not two years later, coaching our team. He kept himself in great shape, too, always working out in the weight room, keeping his body hard and tight, never deviating much from his 177lb wrestling weight. Broad, muscular shoulders, defined pecs, narrow waist and hips - a great body for a wrestler.

We were in the same weight class, and my body was pretty good, too. I worked out for it, trying to keep up with Coach, and did pretty well, too. I was just a bit smaller in the shoulders, but otherwise we were pretty evenly matched, body wise.

Not to say that any of us on the team were slackers. We all kept up as best we could with Coach. Kind of a pride thing. First thing we did before practice was meet in the weight room for a workout. Coach was always in there before us, and worked with us almost like a personal trainer, pushing us to go harder. Then we'd go into the wrestling room, pairing up and testing each other, trying new holds, sweating up a storm.

This day, all the guys were exhausted after practice. We all hit the showers, but there was none of the usual horsing around. We all just wanted to get out of the gym to nurse our sore muscles.

And most of us did. I wasn't so lucky. I was one of the last in the showers, and so was one of the last to be in the locker room, drying off, when Coach walked in.

"Tim," he said, "I'm not happy with your workout today. You weren't taking care of business out there. Get back into your singlet. We've got some work to do."

"Ok, Coach," I said. But it wasn't ok. I had just showered, and now had to get back into my sweaty uniform, not to mention my only jock, which was also damp with sweat, only to have to shower again later. But Coach seemed pretty insistent, and I was the only one left who had yet to go through some additional one-on-one coaching after practice, so I didn't really have much of a choice.

When I came out of the locker room, I found Coach standing on the mat, waiting for me, his hands on his hips, still in his singlet.

"You ready?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be," I answered. "What was I doing wrong?"

"You weren't pushing for the pin like I told you. The only way you're gonna win at wrestling is to go for the pin, all else be damned."

"Yeah, but Coach..."

"No buts, Tim. Let me show you how to do it."

He hunkered down in wrestling position, ready to lock up with me. I did the same. We approached each other, got our hands on each other's shoulders, he slipped his hand behind my neck, and we started to circle each other. He shot his hand out, catching me behind my knee, and pulled up, toppling me back. He landed on top of me, swung around, catching me in a deep crotch hold, trying to cradle me up into a fast pin. But I managed to bridge back, preventing him from getting my shoulders down. As I did this, I felt his hand slip through my legs, until it rested on the pouch of my singlet. I thought I felt his hand give it a slight squeeze, but I was sure I was mistaken.

I got my arm around his neck, slipped my arm through his legs, and rolled him over on his back. Now I was close to pinning him, but he rolled through, and away from me. He stood up, ready to lock up again.

This time, I managed to get my arms around his chest in a bear hug, lifting him off the mat, and slamming him down, with me on top. He wrapped his legs around me in a body scissors and held me there. We were chest to chest, crotch to crotch. I grabbed his wrists to pin them over his head, when he broke his scissors, and bridged up. I was on top of him, feeling the pressure of my dick pushing down on his, and noticed that he had thrown a rod. The feeling of his dick against mine caused a reaction in my own crotch, and I started to get boned up, too.

We wrestled like that for about fifteen minutes. I could partially see some of his cock outlined as it stretched the material of his singlet. My full-on hard-on was even more obvious in my singlet, but that didn't stop us. Guys always get hard-ons when they wrestle, it's natural.

Finally we broke off for a short rest. We were both soaked with sweat and panting from the exertion. We both lay on our backs, trying to get some air into our lungs, when Coach turned to me. "Not bad, Tim," he said. "I knew if I pushed you, you'd do ok."

"Thanks, Coach. You do pretty well yourself."

He laughed, and punched me in the arm. I did the same to him. He hit me again. Pretty soon, we were rolling around with each other, play-wrestling. He landed on top of me, getting me in a tight bear hug, trying to pin me down. Suddenly we both stopped, realizing that our crotches were mashed together. Coach rolled off me and stood up.

"This singlet is too wet to wrestle in," Coach said and then began to peel himself out of it. "Yours is soaked with sweat, too. Strip it off, Tim," Coach Meyer said as he tossed his singlet to the floor and stood looking down at me, hands on hips, in just his jockstrap.

All Male Fiction: I Spy (Part 2)

By: Unknown Author

Read Part 1

Eric stumbled out of Coach Anson's equipment locker, nearly falling on the cement floor before his arms grabbed Coach Anson's desk chair. Alex and Coach Anson looked over in disbelief. Alex turned around so that his ass was against the Coach's desk, as he groped quickly for his pants and belt. Coach Anson slid his track pants quickly up to his waist and turned toward Eric.

For at least two seconds, no one said a word. Eric's heart was racing as Coach Anson finally spoke. "Eric Larson, what the hell are you doing in here?"

Coach Anson stared at Eric, who began to tremble. Eric backed up toward the Coach's equipment locker, hoping he could simply crawl back inside. Alex rushed toward Eric, but Coach Anson stopped him from grabbing Eric's shirt.

"All right, Diego. I've had my fill of you today. Get outta here. I'll handle this," Coach Anson ordered.

Alex stared Eric down before turning to exit the Coach's office. Eric couldn't help but stare at Alex's muscled ass, crisply defined by his slacks, as Alex walked through the door.

Coach Anson caught Eric staring. "So, Eric, you get your little stiffy all worked up watching grown men play?"

Eric remained silent, his mind trying to think of a good explanation, and a way to get out of the locker room in one piece. Coach Anson became even more ticked off and approached Eric for an answer. Coach Anson swaggered closer to Eric - so close that Eric could feel his hot breath on his shoulder and the Coach's thick, meaty legs pushed up against Eric's inner thighs.

Coach Anson again questioned, "So, you think you know what you saw. But there are still a couple of things you should know. You should know that no one will believe you. And you should know that you will have to pay a price to keep this piece of information."

Eric finally found a voice to reply. "What are you talking about? I'm not going to tell anyone."

Coach Anson got closer to Eric's face, so close the Coach could've kissed him. "Oh, I know you won't tell anyone what you saw, but I have to think of a way to guarantee it... to my satisfaction."

All Male Fiction: I Spy (Part 1)

By: Unknown Author & Ryan Michaels

 

 

 

Eric slipped into Coach Anson's office at the back of the boys' high school locker room. Eric, who was five-nine, weighed one hundred and sixty-five pounds, with dark hair, and brown eyes, and who was muscular and fit and had a bubble butt was one of Southfield High's up-and-coming athletes. He had just turned eighteen and, like most guys his age, was horny all the time. Which is why he was in Coach Anson's office snooping around. He was looking for the key to the Coach's desk. Rumors abounded that the Coach kept porno magazines locked in the bottom drawer, and Eric desperately needed to get off right then and wanted to go into a stall and pump out a load of sperm while looking at porn.

Before he had managed to locate the key, though, Eric suddenly heard voices entering the locker room. It sounded like two voices - a man and a woman – and as the voices got closer, with no way to escape without being seen, Eric ducked inside a locker housed inside Coach Anson's office that held the Coach's clothes as well as some personal hygiene products on the top shelf.

Looking through the slats in the locker door, Eric recognized Mr. Diego, along with a sexy young brunette woman he hadn't ever seen before as they entered Coach Anson's office.

Mr. Diego was Eric's geometry teacher, but to everyone else, he was "Alex." Alex was in his mid-twenties and made all the girls at Southfield swoon. He was Hispanic and handsome, stood five foot eleven, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a muscular frame that rippled when he walked. The cut of his pants showed off every finely sculpted muscle of his ass, and his arms and chest popped out of his short-sleeved polo shirts.

As Alex and the young woman entered Coach Anson's office, Alex's hand was wrapped around the young woman's ass. They were laughing and hanging on each other. Then Alex spoke. "We'll have some privacy in here."

The young woman replied with a smile and her hand reached around Alex's sturdy torso and cupped his luscious ass firmly. Her hand then darted back to the front of Alex's pants and began unbuckling his belt. Eric watched as they began to undress, standing only ten feet away from his hideout in the locker.

Alex's pants dropped to the floor. He was not wearing any underwear, and his cock, which was fat and uncut, was semi-aroused already, jutting out slightly. She handled Alex's cock as he reached to unzip her skirt, and Alex's cock became harder and thicker as she played with it, and got rock hard in no time. Alex's cock wasn't only thick, it was also pretty long. It had to be at least eight inches.

Alex hiked up her skirt over her abdomen and turned her around and bent her over Coach Anson's desk. She was now facing away from the locker, but Alex blocked her view from Eric when he came up close behind her. His ass cheeks faced Eric; they were hairless and bronzed. They hung like cantaloupes, tight and bouncy at the same time.

The next thing Eric witnessed from his hiding spot was Alex entering the young woman from behind. Alex slipped inside skillfully and began to buck faster and faster, holding onto her shoulders for support. He then grabbed her hips and fucked her harder and harder.

Alex's bucking quickened and then he withdrew as he began to cum. Eric soon saw Alex's cum running down her leg. Alex stepped aside and trailed his finger through the little rivers of cum, drawing his finger upwards, and then inserted his cum-coated finger into her mouth. He smiled and whispered, "Just want to leave you something to remember me by."

With that, Alex and the young woman quickly dressed and moved towards the door of Coach Anson's office. They were both stunned when they realized Coach Anson had been standing there quietly for several minutes, observing their fuck session. Eric had been so involved in watching Alex and the woman fucking that he hadn't heard or noticed the Coach come up to the door, either.

Alex, the woman, and Eric all stood silently looking at the coach, wondering what was going to happen next as he eyed both of them.

After an awkward pause, Alex spoke first. "Hey, Coach, didn't see you standing there."

Coach Anson motioned for the young woman to leave, and she scrambled through the door, but his arm moved across the doorframe and blocked Alex's path when he moved to follow her out.

Coach Anson was in his mid-thirties, with dark blond hair and brown eyes, stood five-ten, and weighed about one hundred and ninety pounds. He was fit and built; his hairy muscular forearms stretching the arms of his light-colored t-shirt, his bulging pecs straining the thin t-shirt across his chest. Coach Anson's ass was a muscular silhouette filling out his navy track pants. He was pumped like he'd just completed a strenuous workout.

Coach Anson retorted, "That's because you were too busy banging that chick. How many times do I have to come in here to find you slamming your meat into one of the substitute teachers?"

"Just trying to make her feel welcome," Alex joked trying to break the tension, moving backward as Coach Anson stepped forward.

Coach Anson followed as Alex backed toward his desk and spoke sternly, "I already caught you in here once this week, and once a couple of weeks ago." He then asked, "What did I say, Diego?" as the back of Alex's legs bumped into Coach Anson's desk.

Alex thought for a moment, his face showing a thought crossing his mind. He didn't say a word.

Coach Anson followed up. "I said, I would teach you to keep your dick in your pants, and I guess that's what it's come down to."

Eric watched in awe as Coach Anson swiftly grabbed Alex's left hand and twisted it behind Alex's muscled back. Alex tried to squirm away but was trapped. Coach Anson wrenched Alex's hand tighter against his back until Eric could see the pain visible on his face.

Alex winced and breathed in quickly, whispering, "What do you want, Coach?"

Coach Anson kept Alex's left hand pinned while his free hand reached around Alex's waist and undid Alex's belt. With one swift move, Alex's pants fell to the ground again, exposing his soft cock and naked ass.

All Male Fiction: Teenage Spunk

By: rick_licks_dick

 

 

My heart sank when I saw Whittaker crumple up and hit the field like a wounded animal. He was my champion athlete and I was counting on him to pull us through in the regional finals next week. Now, he was flat on his back, both hands cupping the considerable bulge in his groin. I got up off the bench and loped across the field to find out what had happened.

"Pulled a muscle in my groin, Coach," he groaned, tears welling up in his eyes. He was a big, strong, eighteen year old man, but right now he looked as helpless as a baby. I helped him up, and slipped an arm around him, half-carrying him back to the locker room.

Touching Whittaker was unlike touching any of the other young men I've coached over the years. Many of them had had great bodies, but Whittaker's was almost too much to take. His arms and shoulders were tight and thick with muscle, and his chest was a true masterpiece. Right now my fingers were curving under the rise of his big pec and it felt like a warm rock. When he moved it was sheer poetry in motion, and I was convinced that he had a great athletic career ahead of him.

"It really hurts, Coach," he groaned, looking over at me with his big brown eyes. Whittaker's arm felt good against my neck, his sweat soaking through my t-shirt and rapidly making me a whole lot hotter than the cool fall weather could justify. "You have to make it better. I have to be able to compete this weekend."

"We'll worry about that later," I reassured him, giving him a friendly squeeze. "Right now I want to get you inside so I can see how badly you're hurt." I tightened my grip on him and bore most of his weight as we descended the stairs.

"Let's get these clothes off you," I said, helping him into my office. "Can you get your shoes off?"