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"What was it you wanted to see me about, Coach?"
Coach Velasquez was sitting on the corner of his desk, the picture of effected casualness, when Ryan poked his head in.
"Hey, there, Miller. C'mon in, son." Ryan took a seat on a rickety office chair. It looked fit to burst under his bulky frame.
"Listen, Ryan... I'm not sure how to say this. We've had some..." Velasquez hesitated, searching for the right words. Ryan blinked with surprise, feeling something knot in the pit of his stomach.
"Some what?"
"Some of the guys have been saying that you've been... checking them out in the locker room. Is that true?"
Ryan's cheeks flushed red. "What? Of course not, coach, I'm not a fag."
Velasquez held up a hand. "Whoa, Ryan, let's calm down. There wouldn't be anything wrong with that, first off. But I wanted to see if it was possible that maybe your eyes were, you know, drifting south."
"No way! Who was complaining? That's bullshit." Ryan's biceps tensed in his baggy tank, still shiny with sweat from his workout.
"Well, normally I wouldn't even mention it. But there were... Well, there were a lot of complaints. It sounded pretty consistent. They say you've been staring at their co--uh, staring at their penises while they're changing, and acting aroused. Finding excuses to touch them, hiding your crotch, returning to the showers excessively..." Ryan's breathing was shallow at this listing of his crimes. Velasquez continued, "and I guess I was thinking, well, I could give you a tongue-lashing to get you to stop or I could talk to you and see if there was something going on."
"Huh?" Ryan lifted his head. Coach Velasquez shrugged, his beefy, tan arms crossed in front of his chest.
"I mean, I was your age before, not too long ago. I know what it's like to be curious. Are you... curious, Miller?"
"Uh..." Ryan swallowed. "I mean..."
"You know what me and Coach Jordan say. Our offices are top secret zones. Nothing you say will leave here, I promise."
Ryan was staring directly into his lap. "Well... I've been thinking a lot, lately..."
Velasquez crouched down by the athlete. "Yeah?"
"About... about my bro's cock."
"About his... huh?"
Ryan looked up into his coach's eyes. "I walked in on him, y'know... and it was, uh, it was really big. Way bigger than mine. I can't stop thinking about it."
Velasquez knew better than to explain the birds and the bees to the mountain of muscle in front of him. He'd heard the cheerleaders getting railed in the locker room after a good game, and Ryan easily got the most pussy on the team. But from what he'd seen--which was much more than the players knew--Ryan wasn't exactly lacking in the underwear department. How big was his brother, then?
"I didn't know you had an older brother. Was--"
"I don't, Coach. Just Luke." Velasquez blinked. He had seen Luke once or twice, but he wasn't exactly a big guy. He was kind of scrawny, a nerdy little twink type. He certainly didn't seem like the type to be packing serious meat.
"Oh. Well... what have you been thinking about it?"
Ryan set his jaw. "I can't stop wondering what it would be like to get fucked by him," he said, his voice low.
"I see." Velasquez was about to stand up when he realized it would be a bad idea. His cock had sprung to life and his bulge would be right in Ryan's face.
"Is that... all that you're thinking about?"
Ryan shook his head. "Other guys, too. I never thought about dicks before. I mean, I'm not a fag. But it's all I can think about when I jerk off or get laid now. Like when I practice tackles with Diego, I get distracted thinking about how big his cock must be when he gets hard."
Coach Velasquez put a hand on Ryan's knee. "I see. Look, if I'm being honest, Coach Jordan and I have noticed that you've been distracted lately. But you can't just ogle the guys on the team. You all need to be able to trust each other and work together." Ryan nodded. "But tell me," his coach continued, "Why Diego in particular?"
"I dunno, coach. I guess... Well, he's uncut like me and my bro, so his cock looks similar." Ryan's gaze darted to Velasquez's groin, then flashed back to his face.
"Interesting," Velasquez said slowly. "Yeah, it's not the most common thing, here in the states. I'm uncut too, and it's gotten some attention." He saw the flash of hunger on his player's face. He stood up, quickly leaning back against the corner of the desk, but taking care to make sure his bulge was visible. "From both guys and girls. But they all like playing with it in the end, once they get over the novelty."
"They all do?" Ryan was snared.
"Yeah, once they get a chance to play with it they usually end up being big fans." Velasquez pretended to not hear the implicit question.
Ryan's eyes were glued to his coach's crotch. "How often have you, uh... I didn't know you fooled around with guys, Coach."
Velasquez laughed. "Well I don't try to keep you fellas up to date on my love life. But oh yeah, I've fucked my share of beefy white boys. It was the best part of the post-game, getting to share a sweaty fuck with the tight end."
Ryan was definitely hard in his skimpy little athletic shorts. Velasquez pushed. "I mean, I'm sure Diego would be game to fool around. So long as you don't mind getting fucked, that is. I don't think he's interested in taking it up the ass."
The football player licked his lips. "I dunno, I think I'd want to start with something easier for my first time. Something, uh, manageable."
"Well if you want easier, you probably shouldn't be going for Latino cocks, buddy. We're pretty damn beefy. But that's the fun in it."
"Are you...?" Ryan trailed off.
"Am I what, boy?" Velasquez's tone was tinged with steel.
"Are you also hung, Coach?"
Velasquez smirked. "Listen, I think i know a way to answer your question and also satisfy your broader curiosity around the locker room. But if you want to find out, you'll have to agree to some ground rules. Okay?"
"Yes, Coach."
"First of all, no teeth. If I feel teeth, we're stopping. Second, I cum where I want and when I want. Okay?"
"Wait, I thought you were going to say, like, 'don't tell anyone'..."
Velasquez shrugged. "Were you planning on letting anyone else know you were getting piped by your coach?"
"Uh, no."
"Well, there you go." Velasquez stood up and grabbed his bulge. "Wanna see this big Mexican cock, boy?"
"Yes, coach."
"Take off your clothes, son."
Ryan shucked off his tank, revealing his broad, beefy chest and its light dusting of fur. Looking briefly at Velasquez for confirmation, he stood up, hooked his fingers through his shorts, and pulled them down in a fluid motion. His cock bobbed free as he stepped out of his sweaty jock, the hood barely starting to pull back from the throbbing head. He straightened his body and Velasquez watched his chest swell with each deep breath. The boy was a stud, through and through, and the coach had spent many evenings revisiting old security cam footage of the teenaged athlete pounding cheerleader snatch on the benches outside his office. But here he was, tugging nervously on his heavy, hanging nuts, precum welling up on the tip of his six-inch cock, nipples standing on end in their nests of sweat-damp curly chest hair.
"You've got a great body, Miller. Looks like our drills are doing the trick, huh?"
"Yes, coach." Ryan's hands briefly moved to cover his cock, but he quickly thought better of it. He stood awkwardly in front of the man, every muscle in tension as he awaited the next command.
Velasquez pawed at his crotch. This was certainly doing the trick. "So tell me, Miller. This started when you saw your brother's cock?"
"Yes, coach."
"And how big is he, about?"
"Probably nine inches, sir."
Of course. If you weren't six inches, you were nine. Velasquez had dealt with more than his share of nine-inch braggarts, and somehow his 8.3 inches--the decimal, he argued, proof of his honesty--was always substantially bigger than them.
"And how big do you think I am?"
Ryan swallowed visibly. Velasquez smirked at the flicker of fear on his face as he tried to calculate the right guess to be flattering but not overeager.
"I'll give you a hint, son. You can pull it out." Velasquez stepped forward to be in arm's reach of the athlete. Ryan reached out, greedily, fingers clumsily slipping under the waist of his coach's athletic shorts. At a warning glance from the older man, he slowed himself down and gently pulled the shorts down, revealing two things: One, that Coach Velasquez was not wearing underwear, and two, that his pubes were practically untamed. His thick shaft slid into view, his hard cock straining harder and harder against the band, until it was finally able to bounce free, as though needing to be accompanied by a cartoon spring sound effect.
Velasquez chuckled as he saw the awe in Ryan's eyes. He loved the feeling of converting these white boys into sluts for his cock. Practically half the local college's freshman class was on his speed dial, of course in addition to the horny seniors on the varsity team.
And if ever there was a cock to start such a cult, it was his. Velasquez's cock was thick, dark, and uncut. It stood out proudly from a dense forest of curly black fur, its upward curve belying its sheer mass. Six and a half inches around at its thickest--the length of a dollar bill, or a hundred dollar bill if he was feeling vain--it was capped with a broad, veiny cockhead, shining an alluring pink under the dark brown skin of his hood. His balls were works of art, too, hanging pendulously below his jaw-breaker, a delicate dusting of fur keeping them warm while they churned with his thick, creamy cum.
Ryan feel to his knees. He looked up at his coach with an undeniable longing. But Velasquez couldn't help tease him a little more.
"Do you wanna suck my cock, boy?"
"Yes, coach."
"You know who sucks cock? Faggots. Are you a faggot, Miller?"
Ryan hesitated, and Velasquez slapped him. Not hard, but enough to sting.
"If you're not a faggot then you can just leave now, boy."
Ryan blinked. "No, coach, I--I want it."
"So tell me what you are, boy."
A slight hesitation, again, but this time shorter. "I'm a faggot."
Velasquez grabbed his cock by the base and waved it around. A sparkling strand of precum flew off and landed on Ryan's chest. "And you're gonna worship this big brown cock, right, faggot?"
"Yes, coach. I want you to fuck my faggot throat with your cock, sir."
Ryan opened his mouth and raised a hand to guide his coach's throbbing cock into his mouth, but Velasquez was faster. He thrust his cockhead between the boy's lips, controlling the pace of the situation. He gave his athlete a little time to get used to the cock in his mouth.
Ryan was a natural. The second the musky brown cock entered his mouth, his tongue almost instinctively began swirling around it, tasting and probing. He slid his tongue under his coach's hood, sliding it back and gulping down the precum at its tip. His jaw was stretched wide enough to be uncomfortable, but he knew it was just the start. He felt Velasquez pull back a little, and clamped down with his lips so the foreskin rolled back up over the man's cockhead. Ryan closed his eyes and gently nibbled on the overhang, remembering how good it felt to pinch and play with his own.
His coach's moans told him that his efforts were paying off. He felt a hand on the back of his head and took a deep breath to prepare for what he knew was coming. Still, he barely had time enough to open his jaw as Velasquez thrust deep, more than half of his dark brown cock disappearing between the boy's pink lips. The cockhead felt like it was already going down his throat, and Ryan focused on trying to not throw up as the older man started fucking his mouth deeper and deeper, his hand still firm on the back of his head.
"Fuck, Miller, that's a hell of a throat you've got there. Are you sure this is your first time?... Well, glad it could be me," Velasquez said. This was probably his favorite part of breaking in a new slut. With its mouth occupied, he was free to monologue, mentally preparing the boy for what was to come. "I've been looking at that fat bubble ass in the showers since you joined, boy. I knew glutes like those could only belong to a faggot. And now here you are, throat full of cock, dripping precum like a fucking waterfall."
It was true. The boy's cock, despite being completely unattended, was oozing a constant stream of clear, sticky precum into the office floor. As Velasquez pounded, it swung and shimmered.
"If your throat pussy is this velvety smooth, I can't wait for your cunt. I'm going to drain these big heavy nuts right up your hungry little fag snatch, boy. Just what you've been dreaming of."
By now, Ryan's throat had adjusted somewhat and Velasquez was fucking it deep enough for his full, hairy balls to begin tapping against the slut's chin.
"Lots of good protein in here, boy. From now on, you come to my office after practice and we'll fix you up a nice creamy protein shake with the others. And then you can shower off whatever you don't swallow."
Ryan's eyes met Velasquez's, the question obvious. With an extra-brutal thrust, the coach forced his cock deep down the white boy's throat until his nose was buried in his thick, sweaty pubes, leaving it there for a beat. "Haven't you noticed that Karlssen and Lee keep coming in to my office twice a week? What the hell did you think we were doing in here, friendship bracelets? No shame in joining the other team sluts, boy."
Velasquez's cock was plugged deep down the athlete's throat, and he could see the tears starting to well in the boy's eyes as he ran out of air. Still, he wasn't complaining; in fact, his tongue was gently massaging the underside of the thick dick stretching his jaw. The coach smiled and pulled out. His cock, shiny with spit and precum, bobbed gently in the air, and he slapped it against Ryan's cheeks. The wet, meaty sound was only emphasized by the hungry panting from the boy on his knees in front of the Mexican stud.
"You suck cock so good it'd be a crime not to share your throat with some of the other studs on the team," the coach said, impressed. "Like Diego, in fact. He's not quite as big as me, but he's a lot less gentle."
"Yes, coach," said Ryan. The puddle of precum under his cock was getting bigger and bigger. Velasquez considered him for a moment.
"Stand up," he commanded. The boy complied. "Come over here." Ryan's dick--normal sized by any measure--throbbed as it stood out from his stubby pubes, framed by his meaty thighs. He took a step towards his coach and master.
The hung Latino lined up their cocks and grabbed them both in his hand. "Feel that, boy? That's nine inches of prime Mexican beef right there." Well, so what if he exaggerated a little.
Ryan groaned as he felt their cocks grinding together. Velasquez felt almost impossibly thick, and heat pulsed out from his throbbing throat-fucker. He wrapped his arms around his coach, feeling the round, muscular ass flex. Velasquez had started gently thrusting, fucking his hand, sliding the prodigious length of his cock against the athlete's, the friction causing them both to shiver a little.
Velasquez looked down at the boy whimpering against him, six feet and 215 pounds of jock meat. Was this really the same boy who'd so eagerly creampied his little cheerleader fucktoys on the bench just outside? Or had he already been changed by the time spent on his knees? Either way, his nipples were positively throbbing, standing out proudly from his plump, heaving muscle tits. Velasquez raised his free hand to tweak them, rolling the hard nubs of flesh between his fingers, feeling Ryan's cock ooze a fresh load of precum as he felt his pecs being groped.
"Fuck, coach, that feels so good..." he moaned, arching his back to give the man better access to his sculpted body. The coach went for it, grabbing the firm mounds, squeezing and groping the young athlete's muscles, feeling the product of his intensive training.
When he placed a hand around Ryan's throat--softly, at first, then firmly--the boy whimpered, then began to cum. Velasquez didn't notice until the teenager started shuddering under his grip and he felt the wetness splashing against his own cock. He looked down in time to see his cockhead pulse for the last few times, drops of creamy white cum oozing from the tips and getting slathered over the monster brown dick still frotting with his.
Velasquez felt the teenager's cum lubing his cock as he stroked and knew his own orgasm was right around the corner. He pushed down roughly on Ryan's shoulders and the boy got the message, getting on his knees and opening his mouth wide. Velasquez lined his cock up and thrust deep, groaning as he felt the warm, wet embrace of the white boy's throat surround his aching meat. As his heavy, hairy nuts slapped against Ryan's chin, he felt the tension erupt and his cock pumped shot after shot of thick, potent stud cum down the athlete's hungry throat.
Through screwed up eyes, the coach saw his pupil eagerly gulping down his load, his throat muscles massaging the fat brown cockhead as it pulsed. Velasquez felt his nuts pulled tight against his thick shaft: What had it been, a full day since he'd last cummed? Ryan was still slurping on his cock, the sensation almost unbearable as his overstimulated dick finally finished draining his seed down the boy's throat. He pulled out, gasping, his brown cock shining in the florescent light of his office, a last shimmering string of cum connecting him to the boy's lips.
"You sure that was your first time?"
"Yes, coach." Ryan licked his lips and looked up at the man, cum-drunk, the salty-bitter taste tingling on his tongue.
"Looks like you're a natural fag, then."
"Yes, coach," Ryan said. Any trace of reluctance had disappeared: If this was what being a faggot entailed, then Ryan was all for it. Velasquez looked down at the boy on his knees and smirked.
"Tomorrow we're gonna get Diego in here and double team that fag ass. That boy's a stud after my own heart. I've fucked half the team with him. Does that sound good?"
"Yes, coach!" Ryan's cock pulsed between his knees in anticipation.
The coach pulled his shorts back up, tucking his thick, soft cock back inside. "Go shower off, kid." He walked around behind his desk and sat down, immediately shifting focus back to his work.
Ryan got up, head spinning, and went to gather his clothes. He thought for a minute, then balled them up. Practice had long since ended, so it was unlikely anyone would see him. And he suspected that Velasquez would enjoy the sight of his bubble butt on his way out. He turned the handle and walked confidently out towards the showers, ready to wash the drool off his chest, when he came face to face with the team quarterback, Anders Karlssen. Right behind him--about seven inches behind him, to be precise--was Diego Cortez, chest shiny with sweat. He grinned at Ryan as he continued to fuck the quarterback.
"Coach finally got you, huh? Welcome aboard. This fag's hole is getting too loose, I was telling him we needed a tight new cumdump to play with." He spanked Anders's ass and the boy moaned, a hungry, whorish sound Ryan would have never expected to escape his lips. Behind them, from the shower, Ryan could hear even more moaning. Diego winked. "He'll do for today. But I'm breeding that puta ass tomorrow, understand?"
Ryan nodded. He could already feel a tingling between his pert cheeks. "Yes, sir." He couldn't wait.