This is a continuation of a story about powerful men who feed off the thrill of taking ownership over the bodies and minds of strong, vital, young men under their authority. This is the story of my first encounter with such a man. I would like to thank Ken once again for his assistance editing this chapter.
It felt weird, but everything seemed normal for the rest of the week. Coach did not give any indication of what had happened or treat me differently than any of my teammates. We had a great week of preparation and beat the shit out of our rivals from the neighboring suburban city. I had one of my best games ever on defense and was super excited about my performance. As everyone celebrated after the team meeting with parents and fans, Coach walked by and congratulated me just as he always did
However, as he leaned close to give me a congratulatory hug, he whispered that I needed to meet him at his house after I got my stuff, and not to bother showering.
I wanted to ask about his wife but didn't have a chance. I did as I was told and drove over to his house, begging off my teammates' pleas to join them in celebrating the win, and more painfully, turning down an invitation from the cute cheerleader I had my eye on.
Coach only lived about ten minutes away, so he was just pulling into his driveway when I stopped in front of his house. Most of you may think that a high school football coach would live in a modest home, but you do not know how important high school football is in suburban Dallas. The stadiums resemble college stadiums with facilities to match and the coaches' salaries extend into the six figures, plus lots of under the table perks. Coach was a star football player at our school years ago and was a home town hero. The district paid him royally because he was on the radar of college head coaches and athletic directors.
This is a long way of saying that this house was more of a McMansion than a typical teacher's house.
I turned into the driveway. He motioned me to pull in the empty space in the garage. He pushed a button on the wall and the garage door rattled closed behind me.
We entered the house. As I followed him toward the master bedroom I finally got to ask, "Coach, where is your wife?"
"She is in Houston with her mother for the month helping her after she fell. Don't worry about her."
We walked into the master bathroom, which was decorated mostly in marble with a huge shower. He began to take off his shirt and told me to get undressed. Obediently I pulled off my shirt, still wet from sweat from the game, pulled down my shorts and jock, and took off my shoes and socks.
As he motioned me into the shower, I noticed his cock was already beginning to swell and stick out from his rock-hard body. He was hugely endowed and had thick body hair all over. I am a six-foot one, two-hundred-pound safety, but he was a former college tight end and had probably three inches of height and thirty pounds of muscle on me. I felt small in front of him.
I was embarrassed to discover that my normal-sized (but small by comparison with his) cock was beginning to swell.
He turned on the main shower head and motioned to me. I stepped inside the large shower. He handed me a bar of soap and told me to wash myself. I was more than a little self-conscious as he watched me clean up but did as I was told.
After I finished and rinsed off, he moved under the shower head and told me to soap him up. I was really kind of freaked out about that, but I started to lather up his back. Then he turned around and raised his arms and I soaped up his furry chest and underarms and down his torso. He turned around again and told me to do his ass. I was hesitant to touch him intimately but rubbed the soap on his ass, working up a lather with my hands around his cheeks and between them.
He reached back and spread himself, making it clear that he wanted me to wash his asshole and balls. By this time, I was just trying to do a good job, and I worked the lather on my hands around his hole and cradled his heavy balls as I soaped them up. He pushed back a little when my hands washed around his hole and mentioned that it felt good. He then turned around and gestured with his head. Following his non-verbal instruction, I soaped his front, working up a thick and slippery lather as I took his semi hard cock in my hands and began washing it, running my hands up the shaft and over the thick meaty head and then taking his balls in my hand, making sure they were thoroughly cleaned. When I returned to his soapy cock and ran my hands up and down it, it started to harden as he let out a low moan.
He turned and rinsed himself off under the shower head, then turned back to me and put his hands on my shoulders. I thought in that moment he might kiss me, which would really have been weird, but instead he pushed me down to my knees.
"Dick sucking time."
I already knew what he wanted. I had never done this before, but all I wanted was to please my coach in any way I could.
I was face to face with his hard, thick, wet cock. I put my hand around the shaft. Hesitantly I moved forward, opened my mouth, took the head into my mouth and began to suck on it.
"Fuck, no teeth!"
I pulled my lips over my teeth and tried again, sucking hard and going down as far as I could on his shaft.
"Use your tongue, boy.".
I obeyed and was rewarded with a low moan from above. With this encouragement I continued to move my mouth up and down while swirling my tongue around the head. I sucked him as far into my mouth as I could, trying to reach even further down his shaft with each downward movement.
"Relax your throat," he moaned. I did not really know how, but tried to open my throat more, gagging as the tip of his cock hit the back of my throat.