Gay Erotic Stories

Coach Tony Vincente barked out orders like a Marine sergeant. But the team loved him for it. Always making his wrestlers go one step beyond where they thought they could go. He even found a way for Joe to be a part of the team’s success, even though Joe hadn’t made the team. He made Joe the team manager and trained Joe to handle all the team’s paperwork, lineups, press releases, just like the big schools. And Joe got to learn what the pressures were like coaching a winning team in a tough season.

Despite the long hours, Joe enjoyed all the time he spent with Coach, and that the Coach trusted him enough to let him lock up after work and to share his strategies before each meet. Joe and began to look forward to all the time he spent with Coach V (as everyone called him) and began to look up to him in a way he’d never looked up to a teacher before. He had just turned 18, but Joe hadn’t known his own father, who died when Joe was five, and Joe’s step-dad was distant businessman always traveling and strict and forbidding when he was home.

Joe remembered telling Coach V all about it, when Coach V had called him into the office after the first week of practice, before he’d even made the first team cuts. Of course he’d been really disappointed when Coach V told him he wasn’t cut out to be a wrestler. "I’ve been watching you and I have to be honest with you, I don’t see it."

"If you give me a chance," Joe pleaded.

"Sorry, Joe, but you just don’t have the muscle," coach said. "You don’t have the weight training, some of these guys have been training for years. Well, just look at your physique and compare it to the other guys." Joe knew he was right. Sitting shirtless in the coach’s office with just his practice shorts on, he looked down at his chest and saw how undefined his body was. He had taken a lot of pride in the fact that he was more developed than a lot of the guys— with a patch of dark hair growing across his puny pecs and around his quarter-sized nipples and a trail of curls done his stomach—his legs were furred with curls too, but not beefy enough, or cut enough to win. He tried not to look disappointed but his voice cracked when he said, "that’s okay, Coach, I understand."

"Maybe if you take the next year to train, you can make next year’s squad. Meantime, I really need a team manager and I think you can do the job." Really?" Joe asked. "That’d be cool." "You can learn everything about wrestling, watch practices, keep the team in shape on the road, the whole bit. Give you an edge next year." They shook hands. Joe felt the muscles in Coach’s arms and hands as his own hand practically disappeared in the coach’s hairy paw. "In fact you can start today if you’ve got time." "Okay!" Joe said, trying to sound as energetic and enthusiastic as he felt. "Do you need to call your folks?"

Joe explained his mother worked late and his step-dad was away on business. "I ‘m pretty much on my own." "That must be why your step-dad never got you started on weights, eh?" "Yeah, we don’t see a whole lot of each other." "That’s too bad. But we can make up for lost time. You put in some hours in the office every day and we can spend some time one-on-one in the weight room. How’s that?"

"Deal!" Joe said, and grabbed Coach’s hand again, wanting somehow to feel the strength in that big fist. Coach laughed and put his other hand on Joe’s shoulder. "Yeah, we’ll take care of all this scrawny stuff right away, " he said as his hand massaged along Joe’s shoulders and biceps. "Build up some meat then add some definition. You know you’re growing up, I can see that, but you got to have more than some hair on your chest to turn you into a real man." He playfully plucked a few of Joe’s chest hairs. "Now sit your ass down behind that desk and I’ll show you what managing a wrestling team is all about.” From that first day there was an easy camaraderie with Coach V. Joe didn’t feel intimidated anymore by the man’s huge muscled 6ft 3 inch body, the way his arms were coated with deep black hair and his face always shadowed by his beard no matter how often he shaved, his deep voice barking orders to the team. The office was just too small not to notice how once the door closed, the Coach became a different person, phoning his wife with quiet greetings and talking about their two little girls, repeating jokes he’d heard, even telling Joe once how disappointed he was, that he didn’t have a son, and that his wife didn’t want any more kids.

He’d looked really sad, and Joe had felt close enough to give the Coach a playful poke in the shoulder and then the coach had grabbed him and put Joe in a headlock, laughing about it. One week after starting as team manager, Joe told Coach when he came in from practice, that Joe had arranged for the local newspaper to come out to do a feature on the team. Coach literally picked Joe up off the floor in a bear hug and waltzed him around the room, laughing, giving Joe whisker burn as he pushed Joe’s face into his neck. That day, Joe went home, feeling like he was walking on air, remembering and reliving the hug and the sweaty smell of his coach’s body pressing against him. In fact, he couldn’t sleep, thinking about how exciting it all was and how he could make the coach that happy again.

That night Joe began to have the strange dreams. They were always the same. He and Coach were naked in the team showers, Coach massaging Joe’s shoulders and saying he was getting to be real man now, running his beefy hands down Joe’s arms, around across his chest and down his stomach following the boy’s pubic hair to his throbbing rigid cock, grasping it in his hairy fist and stroking it in long leisurely strokes as Joe leaned back against the man, feeling Coach’s hairy chest and stomach pressing on his back, feeling the hot swelling of Coach’s cock growing between his butt cheeks. Then pumping his boy jism spurt after spurt into the coach’s hand as the coach hugged him tightly rubbing his man-cock in the fur of Joe’s crack until Joe felt the warm pulsing waves of Coach’s sperm hitting his butt and back and hearing the coach’s moans in his ear "I’m shooting, Joe, I’m cumming on your boy butt!"

In the morning there was always a crust of dried cum in Joe’s white briefs. Joe had never really jerked off frequently, because he’d been taught at an early age by his mother and stepfather that it was sinful. And, frankly, he admitted to himself that he didn’t really know how. It had always been pleasurable to touch his dick and get it hard, but he was always scared to make himself come. He’d had wet dreams before, but he never remembered what they were about. So remembering these dreams and seeing the cum caked to his pubes and around his cock head and embedded in his underwear made him so nervous he would shower it off immediately and try to forget the dreams. That was easy to do during school hours, but after school he would have to go to the wrestling room to watch practice with Coach. Afterwards they worked in the cramped office side by side. Joe never wanted the Coach to know he had dreams like this about men— least of all about the burly coach who was always gentle and nice to him, who treated him in many ways like the son he never had.

Joe was thinking about all this while he was working on the computer program that tracked team weights when the Coach burst into the office, steaming mad about something. Joe jumped back to reality, realizing that his cock had inflated in his sweat pants and was pushing to break the tight pouch of his jock strap. He slid his chair further under the desk and focused on the computer screen.

"Those little shits," Coach said as he stalked around the room. "They ranked us sixth!" He held out the newspaper to Joe. Joe saw the article. "We beat Thornton! We should be number four!" Joe said. "Number four and rising!" Coach muttered, slamming open his locker. "Shit!"

Joe had never seen the Coach so pissed. He hurled his shoes into the locker. "Maybe I can call them and explain," Joe volunteered. "You should have done that yesterday! So don’t fucking bother today!" he yelled, pulling off his sweat-stained polo shirt and throwing it across the room at Joe. It landed in Joe’s face and fell in his lap. The damp smell of the man’s sweat was in Joe’s nose.

"I’m sure it’s a mistake, Coach—" Joe said.

"Fucking idiots! All this work and this kind of shit happens!" He kicked the bench and yelped. "Jesus!" He sat down on the bench, his white workout sock now red with blood. "Get the fucking first aid kit, will you?" He yelled.

Joe grabbed the kit and went over to the coach, putting the kit on the ground. The coach slumped back against the locker pulling his sock off. There was a gash in his big toe. "Shit!"

But all the rage had gone out of him and he looked helplessly at Joe. "You won’t believe this, but the sight of blood makes me queasy. Can you--?" He looked at Joe, laughing silently. Joe bent down over the swollen big toe. The man’s feet were as large as his hands. "Must be size 13," Joe said, laughing.

"Fourteen!" Coach laughed. "Be careful." The Coach’s feet were brushed with the same dark hair that matted his chest and forearms, but not as thick, almost wispy. Each toe had a head of black hair on it. Once he lifted the foot and cleaned the big toe, the gash wasn’t as big as they thought it would be. Joe cradled the foot while he dabbed at the toe. The coach wasn’t watching, just had his eyes closed. Joe could see up the length of the man’s hairy leg, right into the leg opening of his cotton workout shorts to the white bulge of the Coach’s jock nestled in the dark pubes. He could see the point where the pouch and the straps meet right under the Coach’s balls.

When working together in the small office, the Coach had always felt free to pull off his shirt when it was hot in the airless room and had encouraged Joe to do the same. But Joe had never seen the man completely naked, though he’d tried to spy on him in the coaches shower room which was just next door. Joe wondered now what was inside the bulging pouch he was staring at, if the dark crevice of the man’s ass smelled as good as the aroma of his sweat?

"Must be really bad," Coach said softly, eyes still shut, snapping Joe out of his thoughts.

"Not too bad, but you have to stop kicking benches," Joe said solemnly, putting a Band-Aid on the furry toe.

Coach laughed, rocking back. "You’re a trip, you know that?" He reached out and rubbed his beefy hand around the boy’s hair. "Sit down a minute." He said, patting the bench beside him. Joe sat down, the first-aid kit on his lap. Coach put his arm around Joe’s shoulders. They were both shirtless. Joe could feel the damp hair under Coach’s arm at the back of his neck. Felt his own breathing get shorter as he smelled the musky sweat on the man’s chest beside him. "You know I didn’t mean any of that," Coach said quietly. His voice was husky and rattled in his hairy chest.

"That’s not sporting, is it?"

"No, sir," Joe said quietly.

"I wasn’t pissed at you. Don’t ever think that, okay? You’re doing great. I’ve been under a lot of pressures . . . Things you don’t know about . . . and I guess I just had to bitch at someone."

"That’s okay."

"No it’s not, but what the fuck am I going to do, hunh?" "I’m—well—I’m glad you—" Joe stammered.

"Get it out! What’re you trying to say?" The coach was wrestling him into a headlock, pushing Joe’s head into the man’s matted, round pec.

"I’m glad you could do that in front of me is all," Joe mumbled.

"You mean that?"

"Yes, sir."

"That’s good, I’m glad you feel like that. Cause I do, too. It’s like we’re best buddies, isn’t it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why don’t you call me Tony, okay? One buddy to another?"

"I wouldn’t feel right doing that," Joe said and suddenly

Coach had him in the headlock again, only this time, Joe’s face as pressed into the man’s belly, his belly hair scraping his face, the bulge of the man’s jock pressing into the side of his head. "What are you going to call me?"

"Tony, Tony ,Tony!"

They were both laughing and wrestling with each other. The first aid kit fell on the floor. Joe stooped to pick it up.

"Course that’s just in this office. I’m still Coach V to you in front of the team," Coach winked.

He stood up and while Joe was still kneeling putting the first aid kit in order, Coach yanked down his sweaty shorts and rolled his wet jock off his hairy ass exposing a huge piece of uncut cock, thick and veined nestled in the thickest mat of pubic hair Joe could have imagined. He stood over Joe, his cock bouncing in its thick man crown as Joe’s eyes looked up the man’s towering naked torso and watched as he turned and bent to pick up a towel off the stack by the shower room door. His ass crack was so thick and dark with hair and his furry balls swung low between his legs as he bent over and then walked toward the shower room.

Joe got up, trying to hide his bursting cock with the kit. Coach stopped him. "Hey, thanks for being here, Joe," Coach said, smiling that big guy smile Joe had come to love. He turned and went into the shower room.

Joe’s heart was racing as he went back to the desk. He tried to concentrate, but all he heard was the hiss of the showers. There were still wrestlers in the boy’s locker room and bathroom. He had to stay behind the desk to hide his hard on.

Eventually Coach turned off the water and after a bit came back with his towel tied at the waist. His hair and chest were still dripping with water, though. Joe tried not to look at Coach, but at the screen.

"How’s about we pack up for the day, buddy?" Coach said as he stepped into his briefs and tucked his fat cock inside. His balls and dick were clearly outlined in the dark fabric.

"Why don’t you shower up, and I’ll take you home?" "Sure," Joe said, not moving. "Something wrong?" Coach pulled on a t-shirt and scratched at his basket absentmindedly.

"No, I’m just finishing this up," Joe said. He got up slowly when the Coach’s back was turned and made his way out the door. He was grateful that he’d worn his jockstrap so his hard throbbing cock wasn’t so visible in his sweats. He went into the boy’s locker room. It was empty. He was relieved that he wouldn’t be seen as he changed clothes. He pulled off his shirt and started to undo his Adidas when he heard the coach. "You haven’t showered yet?"

Coach was all ready to go, standing at the end of the locker row. Joe began putting his shirt back on. "No problem, he said as he pulled his street clothes out of his locker and put them in his back-pack.

"Aren’t you showering, buddy?"

"No, it’s fine, I can go home and shower."

"I’m not sending my main man home like a sweaty pig. Your mom would kill me if I let you show up for dinner like that!"

"No there’s really no time—" Joe had his shirt back on.

But Coach came toward him and started pulling it back off. "You get your butt in the shower! That’s an order!" He yanked the shirt over Joe’s head, laughing. Joe stood there for a second, heart racing, trying to will his cock to get soft again.

"I can wait, Joe." Coach said, tossing him his shirt. Joe slowly sat down on the bench and removed his Adidas and socks. Then put his hands on the waistband of his sweats and stopped.

"What’s wrong, Joe?"

"N-nothing." Joe didn’t look at Coach.

"You embarrassed about me watching you or something? That it?" Coach sat down on the bench next to Joe.

Joe could feel the man’s eyes on him. Joe’s heart was racing. "I guess so— I mean— A little—”

Coach chuckled, rubbed Joe’s hair playfully. "There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, buddy. Some guys get embarrassed about their bodies sometimes—especially ones like you growing up, turning into men--and that’s natural, believe me. It’s just man to man stuff, that’s all." He stood up, leaning against the lockers. Joe not moving. "Okay, look at this way, I could leave you alone so you could continue to be embarrassed about your body like a wuss, or you can face the fact that it’s just being embarrassed and get it over with."

Joe looked up at Coach. "I don’t know."

"I do know," Coach said emphatically. "We don’t need to be embarrassed with each other, do we? I would hope you wouldn’t ever be embarrassed with me about anything. Believe me, you’ll be a better man for facing your fears, son."

Joe slowly stood up, he turned his back on the coach, put his fingers under his waistband and shucked down his sweats and jock at the same time. His cock burst loose and slapped up against his stomach, making an audible thwack! Which Joe knew that the coach must have heard. The head of his young cock was dark purple, engorged veins pulsed at the shaft, his cock arced out and jutted back toward his belly hair in 7 inches of rock hard steel. Joe had never seen or felt his cock so hard before. He put his hands over it to try to hide it as he turned around but it was too thick and rigid to hide.

"Oh," Coach said when he saw the boy standing before him, face beet red, while his hands tried to pitifully hide the throbbing boner between his young hairy legs. The coach nodded at the sight of this boy trying desperately to hide what was a didn’t say anything.

"I’m sorry—I’m sorry—c-coach" Joe stammered, almost crying with shame.

"Don’t say that, Joe!" Coach came closer, he was only a foot in front of Joe who wouldn’t look up. "Having an erection is the most natural thing in the world for a man, Joe, especially a young man like you. Y ou can’t help them, your dick just wants to get hard all the time, doesn’t it?"

Joe looked up, still shy. "I can’t seem to stop it getting like this."

"It’s okay, Joe. It shows you’re getting to be a real man," Coach said, taking Joe’s arms and pulling them away from his dick, allowing his cock to stand fully exposed in its nest of man hair. The throbbing cock leaked a line of clear fluid from the gaping piss hole down the tapering shaft into the mat of pubic curls and over Joe’s balls. Joe didn’t look up at Coach, blushing because he knew the coach could see his cock leaking so much precum.

"See? I’m not embarrassed and you shouldn’t be either. You shower up, now," Coach said, and then gave Joe a playful swat on his bare hairy ass. Joe nodded and walked awkwardly to the shower room, his cock swaying and beating against his belly the whole way, his balls bobbing in their hairy sack. He stepped into the cold shower room, turned on a showerhead and tried to make his cock go down. He rinsed off, but didn’t want to soap himself, because he wanted his cock to go down and knew that the silky soap would just make him harder, might even make him come and then he would be even more embarrassed.

"Give yourself a REAL shower, buddy! None of this pissant rinsing off shit!" Coach stood at the entry way to the shower room, watching him. "I want to see soap, you hear?!"

Joe started soaping his chest and underarms. He slowly moved his hands into his stomach area, then down his legs. "You know, Joe, if you want you can take care of that erection, you can. Don’t be embarrassed. Might make it easier to get dressed later, you know?"

Joe stood in the fierce water jet. It pummeled his back. He didn’t move. "I—don’t— I mean— I haven’t— I mean . . . " He gave up trying to explain.

"Don’t you know how to masturbate, buddy? Is that what’s going on here?"

Joe nodded. Coach chuckled. "I’m not laughing at you, bud, I’m laughing because I had the same problem when I was your age. You don’t have an older brother or a best buddy to teach you, right?" "Did you?" "Yeah, bud. And it’s easy. Believe me once you get the hang of it, you’ll want to do it all the time!" "Really?" "You bet! Now spray some of that soap right on your cock and balls, okay?"

Joe stood under the soap spigot and pressed the button. A thick gooey wad of soap drenched his cock and pubic hair.

"Now just take your hands and rub it in, slide your fingers up and over the head of your cock and all the way down the shaft. Use your other hand to massage your balls. That’s right, use your fingers to massage your testicles and up under the sack. That’s right, doesn’t that feel good?"

Joe couldn’t help the moans that came out of his throat. Having someone give him instructions like this, standing totally naked in front of the man he’d just seen strip naked in front of him, his thick man meat flopping over those huge hairy balls.

He moaned louder as coach told him the secret of running a finger up under the balls to reach and massage his butt hole. Joe slid his finger around the hair crack, zeroing in on his naked pucker among all the hair.

"You’re as hairy as I was at your age, buddy, you’ve got a nice piece of growing meat there, too. Feel how good it is?"

Joe gasped as he felt the cum begin to spurt from his balls into his shaft and rise pumping in great gobs of white out of his cock head. He yelped with each release as this jism shot hot against the tiles and his pucker pulsed against his fingertip. "Oh, Coach, I’m cummmming!" He moaned as shot after shot slammed out of his cock.

The coach’s voice was calling, "That’s it, buddy, shoot it! Shoot it! It feels so fucking good, doesn’t it! All that man juice shooting out of you! That’s it, buddy!"

Joe leaned against the tile, gasping. The water washing away his semen into the drains. He shuddered with the feeling of it. With the thought that the Coach had taught him how to do this. It felt so good having him there watching the whole time.

"Good, hunh, son?"

Joe grinned.