Disclaimer: The rights to 'Grunts: Misconduct' belong to Raging Stallion Studios and Chris Ward. No copyright infringement is intended. The author does not give permission for any reader to distribute this work for profit purposes.
This is a fictitious story regarding an adult male in authroity position with a minor. If you find such material offensive, stop reading now and turn back.
I have never met gay porn star Jake Deckard, and do not have any insider information on his sexual preferences or his opinions on sex with minors. No offence is meant.
Author's Note: Since Jake Deckard lives in the USA, I wrote the story from the perspective of an American teenage high school freshman. However, I am not American, and have only a passing knowledge of the US education system and how sports are organised in schools, so please forgive me any factual errors, and feel free to pick me up on them.
My Wrestling Coach is a porn star!
I'd known I was gay almost from day one. Well, maybe not quite that early on, but definitely at what would be considered a young age. By time I was born, it was fairly common for the word 'gay' to be thrown around on daytime television for any 'innocent' little children to hear. Bet the Family Values assholes were shitting themselves with righteous anger!
There was also the internet of course, and once I'd heard the word gay, got curious and typed it into Wikipedia and found out exactly what it meant in glorified wiki-detail, I knew that was me!
I don't think parents really get how quickly young children can learn the internet; my folks certainly didn't, or if they did, they didn't do much about it, because it was easy as pie for me to get access to all sorts of shit; pictures, audio clips, video clips, etc., and mom and dad didn't seem to have a clue! I guess parents just don't want to think about the possibilities that their little angels could possibly get aroused by porn.
Well, 'little angel' I was not! By time I was just ten years old, I must've looked at over five thousand pics of guys making out, sucking cock, fuckin' ass, and not just that 'vanilla' shit! I saw guys drinking piss, eating ass, guys taking fucking HUGE dildos up themselves -- I mean HUGE, HUGE, HUGE! Literally, like horses! Teachers never taught us shit like that in biology, that humans intestines can take THAT much punishment! - guys fisting each other, guys actually getting fucked by real horses, guys getting fucked by two guys at once... Tell you what, by time I got to Junior High, I was one dirty minded little 12 year old pervert!
First time I'd found out what 'gay' meant, I'd been idolising over the 'big' boys, the Fifth Grade guys, but now I'd been there, passed it, had still felt like a little boy. But when I got to Junior High, well, what wonders awaited me there.
Football, Baseball, Rugby, Wrestling... It was like I'd died and gone to jockstrap heaven! I had been fairly athletic -- well, I wasn't one of those 200lbs fat ten-year-olds you see on the news -- throughout most of my late preteens, and that gave me a perfect excuse to hang around all that Middle school teen muscle! I signed up for football as soon as I was allowed.
I had a more or less fun tryout period, laughing and goofing around with all these other cute athletic kids, but it became fairly obvious fairly quickly that I sucked royally at football.
I looked at baseball, but -- this may sound conceited -- I liked my face, and I didn't like the idea of a solid ball flying at me at those kinds of speeds, whether I was wearing a helmet or not!
So I tried wrestling, and there I struck gold. I made the team as a lightweight, and moved up from there over the years.
I had more or less decent grades, so when I got to Senior High, while not a 'model' student, I was in a good place.
Now, I don't know how it happens elsewhere, but in our town the Junior High and Senior High school are separated. That sounds wrong -- they were in different places in the town. So when I got to the wrestling team in my Freshman year, we had a totally different team coach.
Now, I hadn't heard much about this guy, except that he was fairly new, and he wasn't bad at his job. But when I showed up, the guy I saw there couldn't have been a day over 40, pretty decent muscular build, receding hairline that he seemed to keep shaved almost to zero, but fuck me if this guy wasn't intimidating! By this point I was about 5'10", and about 170lbs, but this guy had about an inch on me, and possibly about ten fifteen pounds! Not that I was too intimidated by that -- I'd seen taller guys than me, in abundance -- but this guy had the most piercingly blue set of eyes I'd ever seen, and his natural expression seemed to be half-scowl. Add to that a damn sexy thick goatee, and you have a guy that scared the shit out of me. But fuck me if he didn't look familiar...
Turned out he was called Mr. Zorax, and he wasn't the mean fucker I expected him to be. He tough, sure, but that was expected. He treated us like humans, and not like victory machines for a pot bellied bitter old man way past his best. He watched intently as we wrestled on the mats, giving sound advice on manoeuvres and stance, and scowling at those who kept getting it wrong. He had this deep baritone voice, and I kept feeling my 14 year old dick plumping up on me in my singlet every time he said a word. I was wearing a jock underneath so it wasn't a disaster, but dare I say I've got a fairly nice 7 inches down there, and it tended to show, no matter what I was wearing.
Well, I got down to business, made the team, and dealt with my casual interest it my wrestling coach like I did all my teenage crushes; I looked, but kept my hands off. We had a pretty good first few months, our team winning a number of local championships, and there was talk of going beyond!
It kept hitting me though, every now and then, the feeling that I'd seen Mr. Zorax somewhere before. It would have made sense if he'd been around for a few years, as I probably would have seen him around the town, but he had only been there from three months before the end of the previous semester before summer, and if I'd seen him in that time I KNOW I'd remember! I kept getting the feeling I'd seen him on TV somewhere.
It wasn't until January that I got it.
A few months previously, I'd discovered the wonderful world of online 'torrents', large files that you can download with special, usually free, programmes. I don't need to tell you of the huge amount of porn I downloaded by this method!
There was an army base nearby our town (I won't say which, just to annoy you!), and I'd read enough stories online to get the impression that soldiers were a raunchy nasty bunch when it came to mansex! Needless to say, I developed a liking for seeing big rugged guys in army cammos in all sorts of 'situations'. My favourite was the one where the army boys fuck the sailor through the bars of a jail cell! Wish I could find that again!
But a few months into this fantastic business of torrent downloading, giving me access to more gay porn that I'd had in my long gay life, I discovered a the greatest repository of nasty, heavy sweating rutting, stamina driven army pigs I'd ever seen; Raging Stallion Studio's 'Grunts: Misconduct'. Simple as that. If you haven't seen it, I don't know how you can call yourself gay, which I'm assuming you are, given that you're reading this GAY story.
Anyway, it took me a good three weeks to get this downloaded, given that it was about 900 megabytes, and my parent's broadband connection is crap. But when I finally discovered that it had fully downloaded, I was almost scared to watch, in case it dissapointed.
It didn't, but I won't go into that.
I hadn't been watching the opening credits; lots of young muscular, and I might say pretty convincing army grunts fucking, sucking and shooting in quick succession -- for more than a minute, when I suddenly paused it. That sergeant looked damned familiar!
I played it again, and about five seconds later, there he was again, which a huge cigar in his mouth, not so easy to see this time, as he was wearing a hat and it was dark, but it was the eyes, the piercing blue eyes...
As I skipped through the two and half hour long grunt fest, he popped up again and again, dressed in a tight green army t-shirt and cammos, often with no shirt at all. The same eyes, the same shaved head, a moustache instead of a goatee, but the same build, the same furry chest, even the same tattoos! It had to be him! Mr Zorax, my hard-staring wrestling coach, was a gay porn star!
I watched the movie all the way through again and again. I had a PC in my room by then, so it wasn't much of a problem. No, it was definitely him! I looked at the credits after the third time, and they named the brutal, hard fuckin' army sergeant 'Jake Deckard'.
"Hey Bobby," I asked on of my buddies the next Monday during recess "Any idea what Coach's first name is?"
"What, coach Zorax?" Bobby responded thickly; he was a bit of a dumb shit "Dunno, buddy, Jake I think..."
I was convinced at that moment. Jake Zorax, Jake Deckard. There was no possibility of a coincidence. At nearly 15 years old, when most of my buddies were already screwing as many girls as they could get their cocks around, I was still a total virgin, a torturous experience given that I'd known exactly what I wanted up my ass for at least nine years, maybe more. This might be my chance! I was no muscle mary -- I had a leanish build, but I was strong and wiry with tight little muscles. I was constantly getting hit on by girls, so I knew I was hot, and what's more, I'd found Bobby's mom's 7 inch pink dildo under her bed a few months back at his house. Knowing his mom would never admit to having a sex toy, especially not to her fundamentalist Christian husband, which she would have to do if she asked where it was, I took it home with me, and, after a quick boiling and disinfectant to get any of Bobby's mom's pussy juices off it (or worse), it had been up my ass for at least an hour or two every night for the last six weeks. Doesn't seem like long, but if you work your ass that much, you do learn a little bit of muscle control, and I was fifteen, so I was probably over-confident, but what do I care now. I was sure that, if I did it right, I could get Mr Zorax, or Mr 'Deckard' it seemed better to call him (Zorax was a weird name), to fuck me without too much trouble.
Overconfident I may have been, but it still took me two weeks to get up the courage, but I eventually did it.
A Friday seemed best, as everybody's in a good mood at the end of a long Friday, especially at a school, and there was less chance of him being busy. I knew where Mr Zorax lived, because we'd been to his house before, the whole team, and it wasn't far from the school, so it was easy to get there from my house.
I changed out of my school clothes, and got into my cool ripped faded jeans, and my tight red t-shirt that showed of my lean body great, and, throwing a quick excuse to my mom, I was off.
Ten minutes later I was at Zorax's house, and had knocked on the door twice, with no answer. I was worried that I'd got the wrong house after all, but I was certain, so I sat my ass down on the steps and waited.
Not for long. Five minutes later coach's beat up form pulled up, and out got the man himself. He was whistling to himself, and I took that as a a good sign.
"Colt!" He exclaimed, taken aback as he saw me on his doorstep "What're you doing here?"
"I just need to talk about something, coach. Probably won't take long." I said in my most innocent voice. He still looked taken aback, but then nodded, and moved past me to open the door.
"Er...Could you just stay here a sec, Buddy," he said, and I thought I heard a nervous twinge in his deep voice "Just need to get things straight in there."
I smiled and nodded, and he proceeded to the living room, naturally assuming that I would just sit still in the foyer like he'd asked. But like I said, little angel I was not! The moment I heard him moving stuff around in there, I crept towards the door, and slowly peered around it. Coach had his back to me, on the floor on one knee, giving me a fantastic view of his sculpted ass through his rough jeans. It was obvious immediately that he was pushing DVD cases under the couch, and he'd only do that if it was stuff he didn't want me to know about. I grinned to myself and went back to sit on the first stair, while I heard him stashing his gay porn away where he thought I wouldn't find it.
"Right, Colt," he said when he'd done 'cleaning up' and let me in, me sitting on the couch, him sitting on a chair across from me "What's bothering you, buddy?"
"Well, I was wonderin' where you learned your coaching skills, sir," I started, feeling cockier by the minute "Wonderin' if yout larned it in the army?"
"Army?" He looked puzzled "I was never in the army, kid!"
"Really?" I did my best to sound taken aback myself "Well, obviously you aren't any more. Something about some sort of misconduct, somebody said to me..."
I felt like bursting out laughing at the momentary look of shock that slashes across his face, his eyes widening in horror, but then he composed himself.
"No, kid, I was never a soldier." he laughed, trying to sound casual, but he wasn't fooling me.
"You sure, coach?" I pressed "I can just picture you, cammos, hat, big moustache, with all them disobedient grunts; 'Private, I bet you don't like pussy very much do you? You just like dick!'" I acted, quoting from the movie, and giving him a quick smile.
He didn't move or say anything for what seemed like ages, just sat totally still, stony faced, looking dead at me.
"What do you want from me, kid?" I couldn't tell if it was fear or rage in his voice but it was way too quiet to be safe. I almost had second thoughts. Nah, you're right, I didn't!
"Well, I just wanted to say that I read somewhere that a coach should treat his team like an army troop, sir," I continued, looking right back at him "Especially if they've been playing dirty."
His eyes narrowed. I carried on.
"Just wanted wanted to say that, maybe you should treat us like you treated those grunts, sir."
'Us' meaning 'me' of course, and he knew it. I saw a ghost of amusement flick in his eyes, but his expression didn't change.
"How long have you known about this, kid?" he asked, still in that quiet, dangerous tone "How many others did you tell?"
"No one coach, why would I have told them?" I smiled properly at last, cheekily at that.
He frowned at me. He didn't seem to be getting the picture, so I decided that he needed a clearer message. I got up from the couch, and he stood up too, quickly.
"Those grunts were pretty badly behaved, coach, weren't they? I've seen how they deal with them in the army now. Guess I've been a bit badly behaved too, right coach?"
And with that, possibly the corniest line I've ever uttered, and hope never to utter again, I unbuckled my jeans, bent over the arm of the couch, and pulled them down to just under my ass cheeks, showing him my pink hole. I'd been using mom's olive oil from the kitchen to lube up the dildo for the last few weeks, and I'd smeared some in and around my cherry before leaving, so I was nice and glistening back there.
"Fu..." I heard coach whisper under his breath and, glancing around at him, my heart missed a beat as I noticed the hard bulge in his jeans, and the steely, open mouthed expression he was wearing at the sight of my boy-hole.
"What d'you think, coach?" I teased him "Did Trey Casteel look this good?"
(Trey Casteel, was a guy coach powerfucked in the last scene of 'Misconduct')
Coach didn't make a sound. Then I heard him stride over to me, his big feet thumping on the hardwood floor. I flinched, thinking he was going to hit me, but looking around, I saw him get on one knee behind me, and grab a handful of my ass with his right hand, spreading my cheeks further as the thumb of his left hand began to tease my crack.
"Fuck, kid!" I heard him hiss. His face was only an inch or two from my hole, so I felt it as well. "Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck..."
And with that, I felt his tongue slithering it's merry way up inside me.
"Ohh!" I yelped, giving an uncontrollable buck as something living entered my ass for the first time (other than my own fingers, which, frankly, isn't quite the same).
"Stay still, fucker!" he ordered, dragging his tongue from my hole to speak, and then stuffing it back in again, his spit mingling with the oil up there, pushing it further.
Oh man, I'd watched hundreds of guys get eaten out on video, and I'd imagined what it might feel like, but this was ecstasy! I felt his big goatee scratching up against my sensitive ring as his tongue forced it more and more open, his face buried between by round supple buns, like a horny teenager with his first deep cleavage.
I won't waste your time with giving you the 'thoughts that were running through my head', like so many gay stories do. It would be difficult because I wasn't thinking much, just that this guy had a big tongue, and that I wished it was bigger. That was until he shoved two of his fingers in there, and I got a good idea of what the word 'stretched' really meant.
"Fuck me, boy, you're so fuckin' loose!" he cooed at me, and I shivered with lust. I couldn't believe I was about to loose my virginity to Jake Deckard! My first fuck was gonna be a fucking nationally famous porn star!
"You're fucking drippin' for me, aren't you?" he chuckled, which I hadn't expected. He'd always seemed so fucking serious during 'Grunts', but then he had been a soldier in that, they probably told him not to smile too much. "Fuck, how old are you, boy?"
"I'm fifteen next month, sir." I answered obediently.
"Fourteen years old..." he hissed, and I felt his fat fingers begin to spread my hole even further "Fuckin' teenager wants coach's dick..."
He suddenly stood up.
"Get on the floor boy!" he ordered. I hesitated for a second, but then remembered I'd asked for this, and did as he said, moving off the coach arm.
"Wait!" I stopped dead, not looking at him "Get naked for me kid."
I grinned to myself, and started stripping.
"What are you laughing at?" he barked. I recognised it as a line from 'Grunts', and wiped the smile off my face immediately.
"What the fuck are you laughing at, boy?" he continued, and I felt my dick get rock hard as he turned into full sergeant mode on me "Get your fucking cloths off, and drop to the floor and give me twenty!"
Jesus, he was really laying it on! I began pushing my jeans down.
"Not fast enough, fucker!" he yelled, and in seconds he was on me, ripping my clothes to shreds with his bare hands, yelling abuse at me as he destroyed my garments.
When he had finished, he lay me face down on the floor and got me in the pushup position, him right on top of me but supporting his own weight. I could feel the massive rod in his pants poking me in the butt.
"Now, give me twenty, boy." he said, much more quietly. Obediently, I lowered myself down, then pushed up again, and the repeated, doing pushups like some bad army grunt. Coach moved back so that his knees were astride my hips as I went up and down between his legs. I heard the ominous sound of a zip coming down, the rustling of denim on skin, and then, as reached the lowest point of my fifth push, I felt something warm and fleshy against my juicy hole.
I stopped at once instinctively.
"Keep going, fucker." he barked "Come on, up!"
So I did, and as I came up, I felt the torturous euphoria of a grown man's cock breaching my sphincter, and slipping into me, like I'd always dreamed since I was a little boy. There was a light squelching noise as his shaft slid along the spit and oil that lined my fuck chute. I felt his fat 8 inches hit my prostate and then grind over it slowly as I came up to my limit, with only half of him in me.
"Here we go, fucker!" He snarled at me, and the remaining four inches of his fat veiny shaft was suddenly slammed into me with all the power of Jake Deckard's loin muscles behind it.
"Yaargh!" I yelled, as he forced me all the way open, and as my mighty fuck master laid himself down on top of me, forcing me all the way to the floor, where he proceeded to drill me, hard and deep. Slap, slap, slap, went his thighs against my bare butt.
"Ahh, fuck, turn over fucker, I wanna see your face as I breed my first boy!"
I did as I was told, and turned over onto my back as he pulled his oil-slick dick from me. He grabbed me by the legs, and put them around his waist, as he slid back inside me all the way. I accepted him easily.
"Fuck, kid, your ass is made for this!" he rumbled in wonder as his whole cock slid back into me with no hindrance. "I know quite a few guys back in LA and Florida who'd like a piece of you! You got any brother's boy?"
"Yes sir, one older brother."
"Yeah I bet he fucks your hungry little ass every single night, that right, fucker? Bet he slams his cock up inside his little brother until he dumps his pervy load all up your guts!"
I had a sudden flash of Ralph, my big brother, who was fairly fat from beer-guzzling at college, but pretty hot and bulky nonetheless, ramming his fat cock into my brotherly ass as I lay prostrate on my back gazing up at him as he grunted and sweated and blurted his cumload deep into my begging chute...
Then the flash ended, and instead of Ralph, there was Jake Deckard gazing down at me as he power drilled me, pleasure burning through me on every instroke, his eyes feeling like they were burning mine with that fire-filled glare.
"Oh FUCK Sarge!" I burst out subconsciously.
There was a deep throated growl, that rose into a roar as he reared up, grabbing me under the arms so that I stayed firmly stuck on his cock, and bodily hoisted himself, and me, to his his feet, whereupon he spread his legs wide, and began slamming me, harder and faster than before, four or five times a second, like a steam engine.
"Get my shirt open kid."
I used what little mental power I had left to unbutton his red plaid shirt, under which was a white wifebeater, the one he usually wore while coaching.
"Hold on around my neck!" he snapped, and I did. He stopped slamming, reducing his movements only to bucking himself into me, reached up to his chest, and tore the wifebeater in half down the front.
"Holy FUCK!" I yelled, as he reached up and buried my face in the thick chest hair between his deep pecs, while one of my hands came up and began twisting and tugging at his nipple.
"Yeah, do that fucker while you snort up my sweat, fuck...fuck yeah! Fu...Fuck yeah!" He began to whine almost desperately as his voice got higher and his face screwed up "Fucking tug on my tits while I breed your ass! Fuck, fuck, fuck, here it fucking comes, little fucker!"
I didn't feel anything in particular, just his cock jerking around inside me, but the sheer fact that he was messing up my guts with his testosterone laden spunk pushed over the top as well, and I blew my thick boyload all up his furry belly as he watched, still grimacing in orgasm.
After a few minutes of grunting and panting that was him recovering, he carried me over to the sofa, dropped me down on it, and then dropped down on top of me, his big tongue entering my mouth without much ceremony in my first very wet and sloppy kiss with a man.
We lay there for a while, before he got hard being pressed up against me, and fucked me again, though this time, he dropped his load in my throat. I couldn't get the whole thing down, so I just sucked and played with the head and first couple of inches of shaft until I brought him off, jerking and swearing, almost crushing my skull between his hands.
That was my first encounter with coach Decker, as I took to calling him in private. It certainly wasn't the last. I might tell you about it. Or I might not. Just to let you stew over that. If you want any pictures of my super stud coach, he seems to be the only Jake Deckard around, so Google shouldn't give you any trouble. Hope you enjoyed!
Colt
Thanks for reading this, hope you enjoyed it. If you send me emails telling me you liked it, I'll see about writing a sequel. If I get few or no emails, I'll assume you didn't like it and I won't write another one. Simple as.
Thanks again for reading!
J.
littlejohn302@googlemail.com