The assistant coaches ran the practice that day, with me observing from a distance...with Mitchell running his mouth at my elbow for most of that time. He was a smart, funny kid, but we didn't really know each other that well, and Mitchell, I figured, was smart enough to understand that whatever was going to happen at my house in a couple of hours would go down a whole lot easier if we got acquainted first. He was, quite simply, trying to make a friend out of me, and succeeding at it. I'd had no idea what a chatter box he could be, but I found myself truly enjoying his company.
Mitchell also used some of that time, unbidden by me, to give me a pretty explicit run down of his sexual history, which was a helluva lot more extensive than I'd expected, describing a lot more encounters than I understood Jeff had had, and by no means limited to Sam and Jeff. He'd even intimated that he'd fucked one of his male teachers the previous spring, though he didn't quite come out and say that. In fact, most of the action he'd described had been him boning older dudes.
"How much older?" I'd asked, to which he'd responded, "How old are you, Coach?" When I told him 34, Mitchell only said he'd had older, though most of the men he'd had in mind were 'probably like 25 to 35.' "Sometimes they'll throw a little cash my way, you know, or buy me alcohol, stuff like that. I don't think that makes me a prostitute, do you, Coach?"
"Heavens, no," I assured him, making a note to set aside some cash for Mitchell. "How many guys have you...um...been with?" I tried to sound casual.
"Not that many," he replied, "maybe a dozen, you know, not counting just jacking each other off or stuff like that. I'd say about twelve guys where it ended in fucking...now, some, most, of those dudes, we hooked up several times, and Sam, no telling how many times I've fucked that guy, all I could say is a fucking butt load."
"Is he your boyfriend?" I asked.
Mitchell laughed. "No fucking way," he said. "Just a friend who loves to have a big hard one shoved up his butt, preferably 24/7. And I've got a pretty big hard one, and fucking Sam's way better than beating off."
What Mitchell hadn't talked about at all, not yet anyway, was Jeff and me, or what the three of us would be doing together pretty soon, so I asked him what flipped his switch the most. "Most of my experience is as a top, and I love that...I've only bottomed twice, both times for Jeff— oh shit, Coach, I mean, like, I'm sorry if, um, Jeff is, you know, like your boyfriend—"
"No worries, Mitchell."
"Whew...well, anyway, I gotta say, I liked him fucking me a lot more than I thought I would...so I'll probably give it up to him ag— um, to some other guys, too, you know, so I can compare. Can I ask what flips your switch, Coach?"
"Sure," I said, laughing, "guys, hot guys...I'm versatile, I love both, you know, but if I HAD to choose, I'd choose...receiving...in either end. I'll tell you this, Mitchell, Jeff really flips my switch, and so do you." I looked at my watch, and blew my whistle. "Thank God," I said to Mitchell. "I hope those fuckers don't take all day showering."
"No shit, Coach," he replied, "I've got some stuff I'd rather be doing, so I'll keep 'em moving."
"Hey Mitchell," I asked, "do you know anything about Dewey...I mean, like, if— "
"If he's a homo?" Mitchell finished the question I shouldn't have been asking. "Do I know? No...but I've heard he...Sam told me that a guy he'd been with told him he and Dewey had done some shit, and that kid had said that Dewey had a boyfriend...all of those guys were black dudes, so maybe, you know, he's a homo but doesn't do it with white guys..."
"Or maybe a he's never been hit on by the right white guy..." I suggested.
"Who, you?" Mitchell asked, laughing.
