Scent Pig - Part 1, The Coach
I racked the weights after completing the last in a killer set of reps. Sitting up, my arms felt swollen with the exertion. Sweat poured down my chest and sides, adding to an already soaked pair of shorts and jock strap. Glancing at the mirror across from me, I saw the effects of the intensive training. At eighteen, I stood 5'11" and weighed a solid 175. My pecs pushed out, then cut back to what was becoming a great six-pack. I noticed that the trail of hair, so light 6 months ago, was now darker, thicker. The strands of hair caught drops of sweat. Standing, I turned to get a glimpse of my back in the mirror. Toned muscle ended at a round, tight butt.
I headed for the locker room, pretty deserted at this time of day; two in the afternoon in the middle of July was hot, and most of the other guys got their training in at the crack of dawn, or when the sun had set and the temperature had dropped to bearable. I noticed that Coach was picking up stray towels left behind on the benches.
"What do ya think Coach?" I asked, throwing a double biceps pose.
"Not bad. You need to concentrate on definition the next two weeks, you have the bulk" he replied. "Any way, you sure stink like you did some work, hit the showers!" He grinned and slapped my ass as he walked by.
Coach had taken a personal interest in several of the seniors, offering these conditioning classes after school let out for the summer so that we'd be ready for baseball and football at college in the spring. Most of the guys stuck with it for the first couple of weeks, slowly dropping out after that. But I'd been there everyday, taking everything he could throw at me. The time had given me the opportunity to get to know more about Coach. Thirty-seven years of prime man, he stood 6"3", packed 210 lb. of muscle, and had close- cropped hair, a closely shaved goatee, and swirls of black hair virtually everywhere else. His bulk showed through the hair, the muscles bulging with any movement. He was a taskmaster, but if you gave the effort, you were rewarded with a grin.
Stepping out of my shorts and jock, I headed for the showers. I got under the first nozzle and started to lather up. The shower next to me came to life, and I turned to see Coach with his arm over his head, water rolling off his chest, down his gut and off the two-inch foreskin that hung at the end of a big dick. No stranger to showering with other guys, I was startled by the twitch in my own dick when I saw his cock and balls. `Everything in proportion' I thought to myself, turning away and finishing my shower.
I walked back to my locker dripping wet and naked. While I toweled off, Coach came by, the white towel wrapped around his waist perfectly outlining the swinging meat beneath it. Twitch, again.
"I was going to come get some reps in tomorrow. If you're interested, how about you drop by and we can adjust your workout for some definition." Coach said, absently scratching his armpit. I swear he sniffed his hand when he took it away. Again, twitch went my dick, now feeling uncomfortably firm at the base and spreading.
"Well?" he asked, staring me down.
"Tomorrow's Saturday, gym's closed for the remodel work" I reminded him.
"Damn. Well, how about coming to my place? Got a great workout space, and my wife and kids are out of town for the weekend." He quickly replied.
"Sure. What time?" I asked.
"I get in from my run around 10:00 a.m. I like to work out right away, while the muscles are still warm." He stated.
"Great, I'll see you then" I said as he walked down the row of lockers towards his office. The white towel lost the containment battle, and I got a view of his big, muscular butt moving away from me. For some reason, I especially noticed the dark thatch of hair growing out of his crack. I only had one or two hairs on my butt, let alone in the crack.
Later that night, I was unpacking my gym bag, tossing stuff in the pile of laundry in my room. I noticed that the jock in my bag didn't look right somehow. I grabbed it and was hit with the scent that only comes from balls confined too long in a closed area. Interesting, it didn't smell like me. I'd discovered my "scent' the year before, during my nightly jackoff sessions. The stains in the pouch could have come from any guy, everybody leaks. But the two or three hairs clinging to the fabric looked familiar. I picked one out and held it up to my face. Where had I seen those hairs before?
"Holy shit! I got Coaches jock by mistake!" I whispered. "How could that have happened?" Then I remembered that Coach had dropped his shorts and jock near my locker. We must have switched.
I stared at the jock, the straps stained with sweat from endless workouts. Without hesitating, I found myself bringing the jock to my nose, inhaling the scent Coach had left. `Either he has strong body odor, or he doesn't shower too often" I thought to myself.
What the hell was I doing? Sitting on my bed, sniffing another guy's jock. And not only another guy, but Coach! I'd never thought about the way another man smelled; totally different from chicks. My girlfriend had left her scent on my dick many times, but this was stronger, more primal. Was I getting turned on by this?
I decided that I was just horny, so I started stroking, thinking about my girl's tits and ass. Suddenly, I had a crystal clear vision of Coach, his wide, hairy chest, and the muscular globes of his ass as he walked away from me in the locker room. Out of nowhere I came, and boy did I cum. A strand of the gooey stuff dripped from my left check, all points south were splattered with the thick cream. Without really thinking, I wiped up the mess with the jock I still gripped in my hand.
Shaking my head, I tossed the jock back in my bag. Dismissing the thoughts of Coach as raging teenage hormones; I vowed to exchange jocks with Coach the next day. After all, mistakes happen.
The next morning, I was up early. I ate breakfast, did some stuff around the house, then decided on a bike ride before I headed for Coach's house. Five miles later, I realized that I was running late. I stopped at my house only long enough to grab my gym bag, then high-tailed it meet Coach.
I leaned my bike against the garage on the side of Coach's house just as he jogged up the driveway. An already muggy day, Coach was drenched with sweat.
"Morning' Chip. Ready to get started?" he asked, flashing me a lopsided grin.
"You bet Coach!" I said enthusiastically.
I followed him around the back of the house, out toward the property line. The Coach had converted an old barn into a gym with free weights, mats, mirrors and a single head shower. Benches were placed around the area; it looked like a professional layout. The room was hot, the only breeze from an ancient fan in one corner. I noticed that all of the windows were above eye level, and none of them opened.
"Air's on the fritz, sorry. Can you handle it?" he asked, again with a gin and a raised eyebrow.
"No problem. Hey, guess what I found in my bag last night?" I asked, as I held up the jock with one finger.
"That explains it!" he said, stripping down his shorts. "I knew this thing was too damn tight. Guess it's yours." He pulled off the jock and handed it to me, taking his in return. My jock was warm and wet, I could smell the same scent from the night before. I started to put the jock in my bag, while Coach tugged on his jock.
"What do you say, jocks only today?" he asked, indicating the heat in the room. "If we're going to sweat, no sense getting your shorts all wet."
"Only problem is, I didn't wear a jock. Truth is, I only have one, and you were wearing it!" I said.
"And I just gave it back, so get it on and lets get started!" he said, turning his back and walking to the first set of weights, effectively ending any further discussion.
Two hours later and all I can smell is the mixed aroma of our stink. The room is filled with it. We're on the final rotation, bench press. I strain under the weight. Coach is standing above me, hands just under the bar.
"Come on boy, you can do it!" he encourages. That's the first time he's called me that. Twitch.
Just then, a drop of sweat falls from the V of his jock, just where the straps meet, and lands right on my tongue. The taste is immediately appealing to me. Strong, bitter, yet individual; I know whose sweat this is. I quickly rack the weights.
"Good job boy!" he yells. I'm flushed from the workout, so he doesn't see my blushing reaction to the word `boy'.
"Let's get on the mats and do some stretching before we hit the shower. Don't want to cramp up" he says, leading the way to the center of the area.
We sit across from each other, legs spread, stretching first to one side, then the other.
"Boy, you're gonna hurt your back, you ain't doing that right" Coach said, getting up and coming around behind me. I feel his arms around mine, guiding me down toward my toes. When he lets up, I lean back into him. I'm hit with his aroma again., involuntarily inhaling.
"I know, I stink. But you're no rose yourself" he says, digging one of his hairy hands into my left pit and then running the moisture under my nose, lightly rubbing my upper lip.
"Doesn't smell that bad" I say semi-defensively.
"Oh, hell no! In fact, I bet you already figured out that each man has his own unique odor." He said, lightly rubbing my belly with the tips of his fingers.
"Yeah, I kind of found that out with that jock of yours!" I said, then immediately wished I hadn't. What would he think of me?
"Noticed it did you? Well, the cat's out of the bag. Truth be told, I only shower about twice a week, and this thing is at the end of the cycle!" he said, laughing and snapping the waistband of the item in question. Now why would he only shower twice a week? It didn't make sense, but at eighteen, a lot of things didn't.
"In fact, I think it's past it's prime!" he said.
I turned, and was amazed to see Coach had stripped of his jock and was holding it to his nose, breathing deeply.
"What do you think?" he asked, then held the jock about three inches in front of my nose. He stared right into my eyes, and I knew that something was happening. Slowly, he pressed the fabric pouch to my nostrils.
"Go ahead boy, it is what you want, right?" he asked.
Suddenly, it became clear. This was just what I wanted. This hulk of a man was offering me the chance to venture in to unknown territory. I trusted him, so I closed my eyes and breathed. My dick shot straight up in the confines of my jock. I breathed again, this time a low moan escaping my lips.
"Good boy. I thought I might have another connoisseur on my hands" he whispered into my ear, his lips brushing the lobe. "What do you want?"
I pulled back, then felt his strong hand on the back of my neck, preventing my complete escape from the scents emanating from the jock. I looked into his eyes, and knew the answer.
"I want to, you know, learn, about.well." I stammered, my voice trailing off.
"I'm a great coach" he said, gently lifting me to my knees on the mat. He knelt in front of me, his nipples brushing my chest. He slowly lifted his arm, then forced my face in to the tangled mass of hair.
Overload. I literally got light headed as I became enveloped in that dank pit. Instinctively, my tongue reached out to lick the source of the odor.
"Not yet, let's learn all the key elements first, then I'll let you decide where you want to start" he said, standing. He reached down and lifted his balls, moved forward and draped them across the bridge of my nose.
"No tongue, sniffin' only. Trust me, you don't want to be punished" he said evenly.
I inhaled deeply, the odor of dry piss, stale sweat, and something that I couldn't quite put my finger on.
"Okay, that's balls. You know pits, so let's go right for the gusto" he said with an evil grin. Reaching behind him, I though he was scratching his ass, his arm moving up and down a couple of times. Bringing his hand to his own nose first, he sniffed the end of his fingers, sighing.
"Just right. I hope you like it ripe boy" he said, thrusting his hand under my nose. Suddenly, my senses were overwhelmed. I couldn't get enough of the gamy, heavy scent on his hand.
"Know what that is boy?" he asked. I shook my head no. "That's Daddy butt, and I'm not too particular about cleaning there either. Like it?"
I grunted in response, opening my mouth and licking the tip of one finger.
Jerked to my feet, I didn't even realize what was happening until I was across Coach's lap, face down.
Smack! Smack! Smack! Three sharp blows stung my butt, making me try to twist out of his grip.
"Twenty boy, now count!" he barked. And count I did. By twenty I was almost in tears, part from humiliation, part because I was sure if I didn't get my dick in my hand soon, I would do permanent damage to myself.
"On your back boy!" he ordered. I scrambled off his lap, landing face up on the floor.
I stared up at the huge balls and dick directly over my head.
"Now, I'm going to drop my balls in your mouth, and I don't want to feel any teeth!" he said.
I watched the sack edge closer. He was a master of the tease; I could smell them, but his hand held my throat tightly to the floor, so I couldn't get to the dangling trophies. Suddenly, my mouth was completely full, and my nose was buried in his ass. I breathed deep, the tang of his ass stronger now.
"Ready for Daddy's ass, boy? " he asked several minutes later, pulling his balls roughly from my mouth.
"Yes Sir!" I immediately responded.
"Stick out your tongue boy!" he said. I pointed my tongue up, staring in to the matted, crusty hairs of his ass crack. "I want it nice and clean, and I want to be able to smell my ass on your face when you're done."
I felt his strong fingers hold my jaw open, then my mouth was full of hair, my tongue pushing its way through with a mind of it's own. I tasted all the elements of his body, piss, cum, shit, sweat. It was all there. The crusty hair soon dampened, dropping flavor onto my face. My tongue found a moist, tight circle. I pushed through, and started lapping at his hole. Above me, he groaned and rammed his ass down harder on my face. He reached back and spread his cheeks, exposing the hold that was now winking at me.
"Good boy, you like Daddy's hole, don't you?" he asked.
If it got any better, I wasn't sure I would live through it. Pulling his ass off my face, he pointed the shiny head of his dick at my mouth. The foreskin had pulled back, exposing the throbbing head. A constant stream of pre come overfilled the cup he made with the folds of skin, running down the side of his cock.
Still holding my jaw open, he slowly lowered himself and put all 10 inches down my throat.
"Good boy. Sure you never did this before?" he asked, his eyes bright with lust.
I could only grunt, my air supply cut off by his massive pole. He began a slow in and out motion. He brought the rim of the head just to the front of my mouth, then pressed it all the way in.
"Get ready to swallow boy!" he said. He pulled his dick out of my mouth, pointing it straight at my open mouth. The first shot hit the back of my throat, then another and another. I swallowed as fast a possible, but his spunk overflowed and ran down my face.
When he finally calmed down, he pulled his dick out of my mouth, slapped me across the face with it, and looked down at me with lust.
"Next time, I'll teach you what that butthole of yours is for," he snarled, running a rough finger over my hole. My cock jumped.
"Here's the rules boy. No bathing unless I tell you. Don't touch yourself, jack off, or anything else. Got it?" he demanded. I nodded my head. "Good." He reached down and squeezed my dick. I realized that I had shot in my jock, hands free!
I couldn't wait to report for training on Monday!
To be continued.