First up, some background. I was at all boys boarding school. A posh one you've almost certainly heard of.
I've always know I was kind of bisexual. I've always fancied girls of all ages, but also fantasized about sex with men. And I mean men. While I'm sure there was action going on between classmates, I never knew about it and simply had no interest in guys my age.
No, I wanked about 90s indie chicks and a selection of my teachers. A couple in particular, the most alpha "manly" ones there. Including the rugby coach. And ex player in his late 40s who had added some pounds, but was still obviously strong, powerful and hairy. Honestly, his thighs could have knocked down trees.
For those waiting for something scandalous, you'll be disappointed. Nothing happened. In fact I barely had the opportunity. Our rugby and football seasons overlapped and I was a talented footballer. Only occasionally training with the rugby guys if they were short of numbers, particularly at scrum half as I was small and nimble.
Anyway, I left school after exactly zero gay action and started my gap year. Working in a pub, earning some money and still keeping fit playing for my local side. That's also when I started going online, both to seek out hot rock chicks (all boys boarding school didn't make it easy to meet girls) and, of course, guys.
Back then I used Gaydar, with a pretty anonymous profile, looking for older top dads. Id met a few guys, often in their cars as I still lived with my parents and didn't yet drive. One day I got a message from a guy who wanted a lad to dominate.
I opened the message and the pictures and, my God, it was my old rugby coach. I replied with my photos, sure that he would immediately block me after recognising me as an ex pupil. Instead he said "Cute lad. You should pop over sometime, I'm only 4 or 5 miles away". I didn't know whether to be excited or offended that he didn't even remember me.
When the day came I slipped on my football kit and jogged over to his house, my mind racing, thinking of chickening out, and the run occasionally slowed by my growing erection. When he opened the door, he was just how I remembered. Hair greyed round the temples, stubbly and looking powerful in his shorts and polo shirt. I waited for the flicker of recognition in his eyes. Nothing.
"Follow me, boy". And I obeyed. Once in his room he turned around and enveloped me in a bear hug. His face buried in my neck, taking in my scent. If I'd wanted to wriggle free, which I didn't, I'd have had no chance of escaping his grasp. Instead he put pressure on my shoulders, making it clear that it was time to go to my knees.
Impatient, I tugged at his shorts. "Not so fast, boy", he commanded as he guided my mouth to the crotch of his shorts. I started to kiss the outline of his cock and work my mouth along his shaft as he took a sniff from a bottle before handing it down to me. I felt an instant rush, which coincided with him removing his shorts. And there it was. Thick, intimidating and blessed with heavy, low hanging balls.
He reached down the back of my shorts and squeezed my cheeks before prodding my smooth hole. Then, with one hand on the back of my head, he pulled me towards him as I took him in my mouth.
"Good boy. Get it nice and wet", as he slapped it against my lips before pushing it back in.
"Get it nice and wet. Because it is going in your hole..."
To be continued |
