Gay Erotic Stories

Since that night when Carl and I sucked each other off, I had been a completely different man. I began to check out the other guys at school, or my fellow teammates, and even competitors from other schools. I just saw them in a different pair of eyes. There were plenty of good-lookers but every night, I had jacked off to Carl - to his stubble face, to his thick cock, to his now completely smooth as a baby’s bottom chest and strong legs. He haunted my every waking moment. I was so horny.

I fantasized what it would feel like to turn him around and bend him over and lick his tight man-hole. I wondered how it would feel like to spit on my erect cock and ram it into him. Would he scream in pain, or moan in pleasure? Would he back himself to me? Would he take turn to mount himself on me and ride me on the shower bench as well? Would I cream on his chest as I held on to his broad shoulders?

“Boom.” The entrance door suddenly slammed shut and I was brought back to my locker room. I wondered who would that be at this late hour. Was it Carl? I walked past the shower and saw a light pouring out from the door held ajar of Coach Carter’s office.

I walked towards it when the door swung open and Coach Carter walked out in a towel, carrying toiletries.

“Dean, you’re still here?”

“Just about to go now. You?”

“I have to go through the books for the stupid committee meeting. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

He patted my shoulder and made his way to the showers. I heard Coach turn the water on and whistling.

He was relatively young for a coach. Around mid-30’s, he was part of the Olympics team when an accident cut his dreams short. Unable to swim competitively, he began to coach instead. He’s a friendly guy – he usually hung out with the team. Sometimes, when he’s in a good mood, he’d even drink a couple of beers in the hotel room during our travels. But he’s also notorious for his strictness. And man, when he shoots you a look, you know you’re dead.

I guess, his large frame lends to his intimidating presence. He had the same dirty blonde hair, cut short as well. He looked even better now than in his pictures I’ve seen. Standing at 6’2” and carrying an impressive 200# of pure muscle, he had filled out his lanky swimmer built of yester-years.

I’ve coped a couple of feels before when he’s semi-drunk. A bunch of us guys had to carry him back to his rooms and we propped his arms on our shoulders, and I slipped my hand behind him, just underneath his waist. His ass was full and round and solid-hard.

I’ve seen him swim before, of course. I was always amazed by his body. I knew I wanted to look just like him when I’m older. So what I saw earlier didn’t surprise me… but I’ve never seen him naked before. I wondered how the healthy tuffs of hair of his upper body would taper down to his crotch. I wondered what his dick looked like. I bet he has low-hanging balls. Since he’s no longer swimming professionally, he wears a short when he swims. Even then, he sports a large package. I can only imagine what fills up that basket of his.

I wished I hadn’t showered and I could do it then, to check him out. But I already told him that I was leaving. Disappointedly, I packed up my stuff, threw my wet towels and Speedo into my bag, and made my way out. It was only halfway to the parking lot that I realized I’d left my project that I was supposed to be working on in the locker. I ran back and sneaked into the locker room.

As I was walking out, I could see the shadow dancing underneath the door of Coach Carter’s office. The door was still slightly ajar. Out of curiosity, I decided to peek in quietly.

With his towel wrapped around his waist, Coach Carter was flexing and posing in front of a full-length mirror. His back was facing me but I could see him in the mirror. I didn’t know that this is his idea of going through the books. He ran his hands over his bulging biceps, then to his protruding chest, down his hairy torso, and then he slowly, un-loosen the towel and let it drop. I was hard instantly.

And I wasn’t the only one. Coach Carter’s own 9 inches was at full mast as well. I knew I was right. He has the most beautiful dick I’ve ever seen - even more beautiful than Carl’s. And even though Coach is one hairy man, it appears as though he has trimmed his pubic hair. The room is not too big, so I can see the full view of his engorged veiny cock and large hanging balls.

After flexing and posing for a few more minutes, Coach Carter’s hands headed south, as he caressed his hairy thighs and then to his surprisingly very smooth ass. He rested his palms on his balls, cupping them, and slowly playing with them. With the other hand, he licks his finger first and then sexily teased his right nipple. He threw his head back and let out a deep grunt.

I instinctively began to stroke my own 8-incher under my shorts.

Coach Carter began to hold his cock in his hands. It was a sight to behold. His one hand barely covers half of the full-length of it. He spits on his cock and began to stroke it slowly. It was sensually slow at first--deep, long strokes. Up and down, up and down. He played with the blue-purple head and began to swirl his hand job.

He gasped a few times. Then, he forcefully began to stroke his cock fast and hard, all the while playing with his own nipple with the other hand.

Abandoning all caution, I pulled down my short and release my throbbing erection. I was already leaking major pre-cum. I lubricate my hands with my saliva and went to town. I couldn’t believe my luck catching my own coach bringing himself to climax. I licked my lips as I watched him getting even more and more into it.

He had closed his eyes and his moans were getting louder and louder. His breathing was also getting more laborious. I knew that he was close.

In a surprising move, he licked his finger and brought it to his ass. He played his puckering man-hole for a few seconds before inserting it. He winced and grunted in pleasure. Without losing momentum, he continued to jack himself off when he finally, let out a decidedly finishing groan of relief and exhilaration.

He shot a thick creamy wad of spunk one, two, three times… to the towels on the floor. He sure did cum a lot. He licked the gooey white liquid that’s caught in his hand. Smiling to himself, he turned around to look for his boxers. I immediately ducked into the darkness of the shadows.

I quietly let myself out of the locker room, ran to my car and sat quietly still for a moment. I couldn’t believe what just happened. The image of my coach jacking off was still so vivid in my mind. I pulled down my own shorts and feverishly wanked my cock like nobody’s business. I saw Coach Carter climaxing, shooting to the towels again and again and again in my mind.

I quickened my pace and in a few seconds, I exploded. Ropes and ropes of cum came splattering my T-shirt and face. A load even landed on the back seat. I took out my towel and wipe them off.

“Much better now,” but as soon as I silently mumbled that, my dick involuntarily rises up again. I knew I have to see Coach Carter going through the books again.

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