"Did you want to see me, Coach?" Mitchell had asked me, with more of a leer than a smile, when I'd walked into the locker room and found him wearing only a significantly bulging jockstrap. When I'd been unable or unwilling to look away, Mitchell had pulled the waistband of his jock down a couple of inches and then stuck his hand down there to rearrange his junk, revealing plenty of his red hot pubic hair and the base of the very big dick he was continuing to play with as I looked on...
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"Uh...yeah...Mitchell...I do...uh...want to see you..." I stammered, still transfixed, thinking that maybe then, that moment, would be a good time to explain to the team manager that, unfortunately, some stupid new Health Department regulations (that I'd made up) would require him to shower after every practice. The kid could've let the double meaning of his question slide, and just waited for my new rule to be announced, but as Jeff had told (or warned) me, this little homo fire cracker was assertive, even aggressive. He smiled broadly again and obliged me, pulling one of the biggest, if not THE biggest, flaccid cocks I'd ever seen out of his jock. Holy Mother of God. I gulped.
"What do you think, Coach?" he asked proudly, with every reason to be proud. What I didn't know at that moment was that Jeff had talked to Mitchell that morning. Exactly how much Jeff had disclosed to Mitchell I never did find out, but it was obviously sufficient to prompt Mitchell to drop any reservations he might've otherwise had about coming on to me. Mitchell flopped his giant wiener around a couple of times as I stood watching, dumbstruck.
When I didn't say anything, Mitchell said, "Don't worry, Coach, I know the score from Jeff, and I'd never say a fucking word to anyone..."
"Not even to Sam?" I asked, letting the brazen little fucker know that I knew a thing or two about him, too.
"Fuck no," he replied, laughing, "especially not to Sam."
"Then, Mitchell, what I think is...is that we need to spend some quality time together, and soon," I said quietly, "AND that you should bend over, right now, slowly, and pick up your clothes...before they get dirty."
Mitchell laughed and stuffed his big dick back into his jock. "Good idea," he said, grinning, then turned around and bent all the way over, pulling one of his milky white butt cheeks apart from the other. I gulped again, unable to swallow the lump that had risen in my throat. There were the riot of curly, red hot hair spilling out of his crack and the tight, pink, puckered hole I'd envisioned. There were also his huge cock and big balls, hanging down between his legs, which, inexplicably, I hadn't seen in my mind's eye.
"How's that, Coach?" Mitchell asked as he gathered up his clothes. When he turned around there was a mischievous look on his face. "Oh, my...that's one helluva bulge. You think I could get a quick preview, Coach?"
"I've got to take a leak," I lied. "Follow me." Fuck yeah, he could have a preview. There was still a good half hour before practice and little chance anyone else would be there for another 15 minutes, but I thought it best not to expose myself to a student (nor fuck him in the ass) in the middle of the locker room. Mitchell followed me to the urinals, and I unzipped, wrestling my half erect and still growing cock out for his inspection. Before Mitchell so much as glanced in my direction, he flopped his even fatter than before dick out, pretending to piss.
"Jeff invited me to join the two of you at your place after first practice," he said casually, still staring straight ahead. "Is that cool with you? He said it would be."
"What did Jeff say we were going to do at my place?" I asked.
"Mostly fucking," Mitchell replied, "and probably have lunch, too."
"Is that what you want to do?" I asked, watching his cock slowly engorge with blood. Only then did he look over at my junk.
"Holy fuck, Coach," he said softly, "that's what I want more than anything...can I touch it? Real quick?"
I nodded. "Real quick." Mitchell wrapped his long slender fingers around what was then a full blown hard on and then quickly cupped my fat ball sack. "And it's definitely cool for you to come over...I'd like you to, and lunch is included...you and Jeff should ride together." I didn't want a driveway full of student athlete vehicles in front of my house.
"I fucking love low hangers," he whispered, then withdrew his hand. "Go on, you feel me...real quick..." I looked over my shoulder and then grabbed his burgeoning cock near the base and slid my hand down its length, biting my tongue to keep from moaning like some little bitch. Then I crammed my boner back into my shorts, zipped up and flushed.
"I'm going out on the field," I said evenly, feeling the need for fresh air and fighting the overwhelming temptation to steal just a tiny suck on Mitchell's gorgeous cock. "See you in a few."
A few minutes later I saw Jeff drive up. He saw me out on the field and walked over to where I was standing before he dropped his bag in the locker room.
"Hi Coach. Did you happen to see Mitchell's pecker?" he asked, laughing.
"Jesus Christ, what the fuck did you tell him, Jeff?" I hissed.
"Chill, Coach," Jeff replied soothingly - and evasively. "Mitchell's down for anything and everything we want to do...and you know as well as I do that no 17-year-old male is ever going to admit to anybody that he got fucked in the ass or that he fucked another guy in the ass...but because I know how important discretion is to you, I told Mitchell that as much as I'd hate to retire a cock as fine as his, I would literally cut it off and shove it down his throat if he ever so much as hints to anyone about any of this."
"Great," I said sarcastically.
"Hey Coach, what do you think?" he asked. "Are you excited?"
"I am," I admitted, laughing, "so much so that I have to keep this clipboard in front of my boner."
"Good deal," he replied, and turned toward the field house. "Back in a minute."
"Hey Jeff," I said, "Have I told you that I've never been with a guy as drop dead good looking as you? Or that I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you?"
"No, sir," he replied, smiling like a little kid, "at least not in those exact words. You're the fucking best, Coach."
"You still want the key to my office?" I asked, pulling it out.
"Fuck yeah I do," he said, "I've got to get to the bottom of Dewey's sexual orientation, but I'll hold up on any follow through. Mitchell's got all the D two studs can handle in one day." He was right about that. I tossed him the key, and wished him luck.
