"It sounds to me like we need to arrange an interview with Finn ASAP," I said to Mitchell and Jeff. Finn was the blond hunk of a first baseman who Mitchell had gotten to know in the spring as something of a switch hitter before they had stopped trading blowjobs. I just hoped his pendulum hadn't swung more decisively toward heterosexual.
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"How about this," Mitchell suggested, "it's kind of ballsy, but we just don't have time to fuck around. I'll get hold of Finn and tell him that I fucking love bottoming now, plus I've met a bunch of hot homos on the football team that I need help topping, a couple that I think he'd really like, etc. I invite him to come out to watch practice tomorrow, and I introduce him to you two...like, Coach, if you were talking to say, Jeff, Dewey and Landen, maybe even Alex, in a group apart from the rest of the team, I'll bring Finn over and introduce him all around, let him get a look at the guys, he'll know in advance all of you are homos, except Coach, I'll hold that back. No queer talk, though. Then, Jeff, you cut him out from the herd and fucking charm his pants off."
"I like that plan," I said. "When I see you talking to Finn, I'll think up some bullshit football reason to huddle up with Jeff, Dewey, Landen, etc. You bring him over and introduce him. Simple, public, safe. Preferably afternoon practice, that way Jeff can move straight into the audition if Finn's interested." Fuck, I did not want to miss those two guys fucking...
"Oh, and Coach?" Mitchell added, "wear those tight green coaching shorts, OK? You look hot as fuck in them. Maybe we can get a read on what Finn thinks about you. No doubt he's seen you around and thinks you're hot as fuck...because he's not an idiot. And, Jeff, I wouldn't mind helping with any audition you can arrange, since Finn did ask to fuck me first, and I was too fucking dumb to drop my pants and bend over on the spot." Fuck, I really did not want to miss those three guys fucking...
"You think he's that hot, huh?" Jeff asked.
"Yeah I do, but I don't think he's half as hot as you are," Mitchell replied. "I mean, fuck, Jeff, you're the guy who convinced me to bend over for him, not Finn, and he asked me a lot more times than you ever had to. Coach is the only other guy who's ever gotten in my backdoor."
"Oh yeah," Jeff said, and sat quietly for a few moments letting the implications of what Mitchell had just said sink in. "I think we could be one helluva couple, Mitchell. I mean, fuck, we're already new best friends."
"Fuck yeah we could," Mitchell replied, smiling broadly. "We'll need a place to play with Finn...after afternoon practice...we know our way around the locker room..."
"Or maybe my place, we'll see," I said. I wasn't dealing myself out of that particular audition just yet, and was even thinking about the possibility of direct intervention, at least if the baseball gods approved of my tight green shorts.
"One other thing about all this logistics shit, bro," Jeff said, "we need to infringe as little as possible on our private time with Coach. And maybe save a little private time for us, too. Of course, we're all going to have to fuck some other guys over the next three days, but we want to protect what's most special, and that's the three of us."
"That goes without saying," Mitchell confirmed, "so the idea that Coach and either one of us has time to waste on a three way with an ass wipe like Landen is nuts. Finn maybe, but we could line Landen up for a one on one here...even later tonight...but that idea sucks hard. We might never be able to get rid of him. Coach, you got any problem with fucking Landen in your office tomorrow morning? You know, let's just knock that one out and get it over with."
"I'm not fucking any student athlete in my office, ever," I said. "Period."
"Right," Jeff chimed in, "and two days ago you weren't fucking any student athletes, ever, period. We see how that worked out."
"Seriously, Coach," Mitchell argued, "you're just as hosed if you get caught boning the QB in your bed as if you get caught boning him in your office. I know you're gonna say there's a lot greater chance of getting busted in your office...but there's really not...it's like zero chance if you do it during practice when everyone else is on the field...I can work out the details...and I can even guard the door, just so you feel more secure. What are we talking about, five minutes? Ten, max? Honestly, if you'll put a piece of duct tape over his fucking mouth, I'll even fuck Landen when you're done. So, Jeff you text Landen tonight and tell him Coach is going to need to see him in his office during morning practice...and that he better bring some lube with him, OK? Tell him he'll get his cue from me. I'll be thinking about Dewey...he's worth more than an office fuck." An office fuck was apparently at the bottom of my scheduler's list when it came to assigning available locations and time slots.
"About Landen," I said, "as long as I'm going to fuck him...I really do want to suck that kid's dick..." I'd been a fan of my handsome blond QB's fleshy uncut cock for a lot longer than I'd known he was queer, and well before I'd met and been instantly smitten by my transfer tight end. If I was going to have to break a (new) rule against fucking my players in my office, I was definitely going to suck what had been my favorite dick in the locker room (window shopping only) before the transfer jock had nonchalantly dropped his jockstrap in front of me the first time.
My rule against fucking my players in my office was brand new, of course, because such a rule had been unnecessary so long as I'd scrupulously adhered to my 12-year-old rule against fucking my players, or any other students, for that matter, as I'd done for the 12 years preceding Jeff staying late to help me line the field. Agreeing to break the new rule was a whole lot easier than breaking my old rule had been. What was so sacrosanct about a high school football coach's office, anyway?
"No problem, Coach," Mitchell assured me, "but don't get bogged down trying to get him off in your mouth, that's too iffy on a tight schedule. He comes into the office, you start by blowing him, say for a couple of minutes, then give him a reach around while you're fucking him...he blows in your hand and there's no messy question of reciprocity. Check him off the list, you know, but feel free to blow him all you want on Sunday."
Jeff laughed. "All Landen's gonna want is Coach's big D up his ass...he's not going to be thinking about flipping. He's so hot for Coach, he'll probably cum on contact with his mouth."
"Hey Mitchell," I said, rising from the water, pleased that my cock was so plump, "I had a special request from your new best friend to fuck you tonight like you need to be fucked...work on scheduling that, either before or after I grill the steaks, while I'm taking a leak."
"You're not going to piss on Jeff?" Mitchell asked, sounding both surprised and protective of his new best friend.
"Nope, not this time," I replied. "He's still being punished."
"Don't worry, bud," Mitchell consoled Jeff as I walked toward the house, "I'll soak you down later."
When I returned a few minutes later with a glass full of whiskey and ice, I asked, "So what's it going to be first, steaks or fucking?"
"Fucking!" they cried in unison.
