I still could taste Kent as I unlocked my dorm room door. My brain was still trying to grasp what had just transpired in the past two hours. I entered my single room and stripped down to get some much needed rest. I remember originally thinking how happy I was when I found out I was assigned to a single room. I would have great privacy and I could have girls over whenever I wanted! But those plans seemed a bit convoluted now that I was "officially" orally servicing a guy on my swim team. I still needed to sort that out. Exhaustion took over and I drifted into a much needed slumber.
When I attended classes on Monday, I found that strange thoughts stirred in my head. I had a hard time focusing on the lectures. My attention turned to the other guys in the class. I checked out their builds, and wondered how they would look in a speedo. I even found myself wondering what their cocks looked like, if they were hung like Kent, or if they were big shooters like him.
I arrived at practice early that afternoon. I only saw the coach and a few other guys there. The coach, Mr. Holmes, was in his late 30's and had been one of the best swimmers in the college's history, having won national titles and competed internationally. He also was very hands on in his approach - he had no issue getting in the water to work out with the team or with individuals on technique. He also had a physique better than most of the guys on the team. His six foot frame carried probably 180 pounds, but with his lean, muscular build and well-defined chest and shoulders, he wore it well." He had been in sweats, t-shirts and shorts for the first two weeks of team practice and orientation, but today he wore a red speedo which stood out well against his tanned skin. I had not taken notice of him before, but since the weekend, I found myself checking him out and realized that he was sporting quite a package and a killer ass to boot.
What the hell was I doing? I inwardly reprimanded myself for checking out my coach. After all, this guy was almost my dad's age! But you couldn't deny it and I sure wasn't: Coach Holmes could rival Kent and Jason in the looks and body department. Even though I shouldn't have, I started imagining how he would look with that speedo around his ankles.
Coach Holmes clearly took keeping in shape as a priority and modeled that for his athletes. He always made the workouts, both in the water and in the weight room, comprehensive and challenging. He also wasn't one of those authoritarian coaches, but it was very clear that everyone respected him, no one questioned him and everyone tried his hardest for him. The environment was supportive and professional. There wasn't any of that joking or disrespecting of each other like I had seen on the high school team. This was more serious and structured. He was clear in his expectations and stressed that everyone had to put in 110% effort for the good of the team. This was a point that Kent drove home as well; putting it on the line for the team. Or more like down the throat. I had learned that over the weekend.
I had doing some land drills to stretch my shoulders and was about to go into the pool when the coach called me over. He had two, five pound dumbbells with him.
"Mike, I want you to add these to your warm up, you're one of our top breaststrokers and I want those back and shoulder muscles to be stable. Those supraspinatus muscles are not big muscles, but they support many tendons. It's important you do these isolation exercises as I don't want any shoulder injuries. Lie your towel down and go face down"
I did as he said. He was kneeling about a foot from my head with his full red speedo right by my face. It was completely full. The guy was hung. You would have to be blind not to notice.
"Extend both arms ahead of you and take the dumbbells. Now raise them three inches off the ground. Do a set of ten for me."
Five pounds doesn't sound like a lot but in that extended position it is very hard to raise them. I did the first five and began to struggle. My head and hips came off the ground. He immediately zoned in on this.
"No, you're cheating and won't get the full effect. Keep your head down and your hips on the ground. Here, I'll stabilize you."
He reached out and put his hand on my neck and held my head down. His other hand was on my lower back. One of his fingers was touching my speedo right on the upper hip. I immediately had a flashback of the weekend's activities, but the idea of my coach holding my head down had me springing some major wood. I prayed he didn't ask me to turn over. Crazy!
"There you go, now you're doing it right, just like that. See? You've got the technique down perfectly, a natural if I ever saw one," he said with a smile. "That's what I like about you Mike, you respond well to instruction and you get things right the first time. It really is a pleasure to coach you. I knew you would work out."
Some of these words sounded eerily familiar as I did the sets with the coach holding me down. I panicked a little and I wondered if he knew about the weekend activities. I dismissed it as being paranoid, and concentrated on the four sets of ten repetitions with the weights. Thankfully my boner subsided. By the time I stood up to do a few more exercises with the dumbbells under his instruction, I was focused and under control. For the time being.
He moved me into the water for some aquatic dumbbell exercises which I did while he instructed me from the pool deck. Looking up, I had the perfect glimpse of this incredible body. The man really was attractive- dark hair in a crew cut, dark brown eyes that almost sparkled when he motivated us, a trimmed goatee, and from what I had already seen, a great ass and package. I had never been so keen on studying the male physique so closely but this was right in front of my face so you couldn't help but notice. Luckily, the cold water kept my hard on at bay so my reaction wasn't so obvious.
From there, I swam my laps and did my hour and a half work out, and did all of the sets the coach told me to do. He timed some of my laps and wrote them down in his log book. He called me over and told me my splits were good but we would need to work on my starts next time as he felt I could get more power on the blocks and the wall push offs. He put his hand on my shoulder and assured me that he knew I would score well in the upcoming meets and that he was really glad to have a dedicated athlete like me on the team. I felt a surge of electricity when he touched me. I thanked him for his help and told him, as I had already been taught by Kent, that it's all about the team. I hit the showers. I was exhausted but happy with the work out and even happier with the coach's comments.
About four hours later, I realized I had left my suit and goggles in the shower room. As any swimmer knows, suits and goggles are expensive, and leaving them around the pool means they will disappear. I headed back to the pool area, which was probably locked, but as it was on the way home from the library, I figured I would see if it was open. The athlete's entrance was open for some reason and I walked towards the pool area. I found my goggles but not my suit. I figured it might be by the shower so I walked through the locker room which was dark, except for a light coming from the coach's office. It was almost 11:30. It was awfully late for the coach to still be there, but I figured I would see if he was there to ask him about the upcoming meet.
I heard some "ahs" and "yeah baby" coming from his office. I knew those sounds. Even as a novice sucker, I recognized them. Someone was getting blown. I peeked around the corner and saw Coach Holmes in his chair at his desk, turned to the window that faced the pool with his back to the door. His head was tossed back he was moaning. I inched closer to outside glass of his office and watched the scene before me.
At first I couldn't recognize who was doing the sucking, although from their efforts it was obvious they were driving the coach wild. I saw the coach's large set of hands guiding the sucker up and down and the sucker absorbed what appeared to be a huge eight inch dick into his throat. The coach held the sucker's head down and then brought them all the way up to the tip of his prick. It was then when I recognized the sucker. Kent! I gasped in shock. His lips were completely stretched by the girth of the coach's monster penis. He gagged and gulped, but seemed totally in his comfort zone. This guy who had transformed me into a loyal sucker was himself a cocksucker servicing the coach with inhuman abandon. No wonder he knew how to train me so well, he was a pro sucker himself!
