0 comments/ 54483 views/ 20 favorites Turning Out The Confident By: Coxswain As I look back on my coaching career, I can't help but smile. I've got a respectable record of wins and season trophies, a long list of young men trained as sportsmen, and a couple of Most Valuable Teacher awards. I also keep a private list of names and telephone numbers. Men, you see, come in three varieties, and three only: * Curious (wants to try sex with a man, eager to suck a cock, maybe get fucked--a bottom) * Confident (knows how hot man-sex can be but wants to "preserve his manhood," so he accepts blowjobs or performs the fucking--a top) * Blind (has no idea of the world of sexuality available to him, usually has a religious hang-up--a straight) My coaching career developed naturally from the confident (even arrogant) son of a bitch I was as a kid. I'd always been big, and high school football and weight training turned me into a tall, buffed, over-confident teenager. Proof? Half the guys on the team--and Coach Collins--had sucked my cock. I can't take all the credit. I built up the muscles, of course, but I owe a nod for the good frame to my pa and his ancestors. Our family has good body genes and cock genes. As early as grade school, I had twice the inches of any other kid, and by my last year in high school and my 18th birthday, I had over nine inches. Every time I sashayed around in the showers, I had guys sidling up to me. To cut a long story short--I got blowjobs. Including from the high school coach himself. One afternoon he yanked me out of a volleyball game, took me to his office, locked the door behind us, and told me he couldn't stand it any more. With a vicious swipe, he yanked both my gym shorts and jockstrap down, then I watched astonished as he sucked my soft cock into his mouth, and my astonishment turned into lust. My cock expanded like a balloon on an air-hose. He backed off, staring at my pa's legacy. "God, look at that thing! You're hung like a horse," and he dropped back onto me, sucking like a bilge pump. He blew me to a climax, of course, and--oops--I just seemed to cum too much for him. He had my jism running down his chin when I finally pulled away. He joined my "harem," a list of guys who wanted to blow me, but I drew a line under his name: Collins 555-2560 So the next year, with a football scholarship to Hohenpastle University, I went off to college and strutted onto the ivy-covered campus like a rock star. I figured I'd soon build up a "collegiate" blowjob list--just a matter of showing a little skin in the locker room. Amazing. When you've got it, you get it--the very first day I walked into the showers naked (forget the fucking towel; that's for guys ashamed to show off their cocks), everybody saw I was the biggest motherfucker in the valley. I'll be a son of a bitch if my very first trophy wasn't the fucking college coach himself! Thank you, Pa, for every one of those inches! I knew the routine. "Sure, I'll come to your office, Coach. What was your name again?" He snapped it out. "Right, Coach . . . Niengwiek." I looked at him blankly. He spat that it was a Dutch name, but for as gruff and drill-sergeant as he tried to sound, I saw a 40-year-old guy (nice build) who was nothing more than a thin slice of beef around a ripe peach--soft, sweet, split up the middle, waiting for somebody to take it. I gave him a sultry smile. "I'll be there soon's I finish up here." I let a few minutes go by so he could stew, then I sauntered over to his office. Without getting dressed--just a towel around my waist--I knocked on the door, let myself in, and smiled. Yep, he stood there, waiting for me, not relaxing in his chair. He reached behind me and locked the door, and I leaned back, pinning his arm behind me. The poor bastard. I was way ahead of him. "Let me save you some time, Coach." I let the towel drop. Yep, he stared down at my hard cock like a kid at a lollipop, and his hand slipped down to cup my buttock. I snickered. "You want to suck it, don't you, Coach?" "Yeah!" He sank to his knees, and as I enjoyed the first blowjob of my college experience, I took a deep breath. Life is good. I had to give him credit--he was an expert cocksucker. Tongue like a boa constrictor. In no time I filled his mouth and heard him gurgling my jism. He was a slut, though, sucking until he got me too sensitive to stand it any more. When I pulled back with a gasp, I naturally figured that ended the show, and I looked around for my towel, but Coach Niengwiek was even more of a slut than I thought. He stood up. "Lie back on the desk and let me rim your ass." Never had a rim job. I'd heard about them but thought they were a little gross. The coach's blowjob had been a professional delight, though, so I pushed aside a few papers, lay back on the old, polished mahogany, and spread my legs for him. My asshole looked up at him shyly, the cute little puckered virgin. I couldn't deny I was eager, but at the same time I was sickened. Damn, he's going to lick my asshole! My asshole slammed shut, of course, clenched and tight, the way it had been all its life. He put his hands on my legs and rolled them back onto my chest, rolling my camera-shy butt-hole up in the open air, exposed, undefended, winking with stage-fright. Coach Niengwiek dropped to his knees beside the desk, putting his face at the level of my wrinkled pucker, and about then I had second thoughts. I was willing to try it but just couldn't understand the attraction of rimming. I've wiped my ass before. Not exciting. How different could it be if the Charmin is replaced by a tongue? In fact, I didn't like the whole idea. Wished I'd said hell, no, but Niengwiek was a good guy--never can have too many cocksuckers. Hell, if he wanted to lick my asshole, I'd let different folks have their different strokes. He spread my ass-cheeks, and his head ducked down out of sight, his mouth into my ass crack. Damn, this is sick. Licking somebody's asshole! Yuck! I figured I'd give him his moment, lie there like I didn't mind, just grit my teeth until he finished. What possible temptation could there be to lick a man's ass-- --then I felt it! His tongue on my rectum! God-motherfucking-Damn!! I gritted my teeth, all right--my silver fillings cracked! I was electrocuted! I let out a loud groan, astonished to the max as jolts of pleasure shot up from my ass! Niengwiek's tongue was a Tazer! And my asshole was a magic button! Instant sexual excitement! Suddenly I was panting, heaving, and gasping like I was bearing his baby, and my already hard rod exploded into a dong I'd never seen before--had to be another inch longer and thicker. Light-headed, I wanted to say something but could hardly talk. Niengwiek's lightning bolts up my ass made me hotter than a $2 whore, my heart pounding, literally a bitch in heat! And it hit me: I want him to fuck me! The devil's tongue up my ass melted my brain, leaving only one desire: Niengwiek's hard cock up my ass. It was scary. I had to have it. Had to! Forcing myself to speak, I gasped, "Enough! Enough! C'mon, gimme your cock up there! Fuck me! " My head rolled back on the desk, my eyeballs up in my head. "Gotta have it! C'mon, Coach, fuck me!" But the bastard didn't stop the rim-job. What is he doing?? I can't stand any more!! Never felt anything like it! As his tongue swirled and diddled on my asshole, such a wave of lust swept over me, I couldn't live another minute without his boiling cum to cool my ass! I begged. "Please take me. C'mon, man, I'm spread here for you, waiting for you! Ah, god, my ass is so hot I'm gonna die if you don't fuck me!" When I saw him rise up from between my legs, I sucked in my breath--He's going to do it! He's going to mount me! I spread my legs wider as he stood up, his cock magically at the level of my no-longer-shy asshole, and at last,--Ohmigod, there it is!--Niengwiek's hard dick nudged against it, and he chuckled. "You are the hottest virgin yet." "Yeah! Take me, man! Take my cherry! I'm so hot for you, you've gotta fuck me now!" The bastard, he had me right where he wanted me. I felt the pressure of his first push, amazed at how far I'd moved since I walked into his office, snickering that another fairy was going to suck my dick. My virgin asshole was an eager bride on its wedding night. Completely at his mercy, his fucking slave, I heard myself whining like a bitch: "C'mon, Coach, please! Please stick that big thing in me hard! I gotta have you, man, you make me crazy! God, please, stab it in, all the way!" He looked down at me and sneered. "Not on my desk. With my cock up your ass, you'll cum all over my grade sheets. You're going to take it like a bitch. On your hands and knees on the floor!" Fuck, yes! I obeyed instantly, without a second thought. I leaped down from the desk, dropped to the floor on hands and knees, and lowered my head, raising my ass for him. I clenched my asshole at him in little kissy-kissy actions. "C'mon, man, take me! I'm your bitch. Make me a bitch!" "Raise up on hour hands, boy. I'm going to rest on your back." Yeah, yeah, anything! I rose up, becoming a four-legged human dog, and he mounted me. I got the big, muscular backpack I ached for and moaned as his cock nudged the target again. "Oh, yes, god, yes!" I wriggled in lust as his sweaty chest settled on me. "Oh, yeah, big dog! Make big puppies in me! C'mon, fuck me!" The bastard was the master of sexual torture. He cooed in my ear. "Like, this do you?" Frantic, desperate, I lunged my hips back, trying to skewer myself on him, anything to get him to take me! "Coach, you're driving me insane! I'll do anything you want, just fuck me!' I felt him swiping my ass with something slimy. Vaseline? Finally, finally, his cockhead nudged into my home plate, and Niengwiek took over. My asshole was already afire, so as he sank it in to the hilt, I got what my body screamed for, and the sharp, burning sensation as he stretched my ass-ring simply blended in with the forest fire of desire. I let out a long, delirious moan, and my head jerked back as he entered me--I was a hot, sweaty, real-life version of the ceremonial lion statues in front of the library: head back, mouth open, howling to the moon. Niengwiek's entry through my sacred back door was the most intense experience of my life. An infinity better than jacking off or even a blowjob. His cock up my ass was be-fucking-yond belief! And he held it there a long time. I was in heaven! Slowly the burning sensation faded away, and I felt only pleasure! I knew my pleasure point--where to hold my cock, the spot under the head, the place to rub my thumb--but Niengwiek, the master-fucker, found a dozen sensitive spots inside me I had no idea existed. My virginity exploded like an atom bomb, and my guts, my rectum, my balls, my cock, everything about me totally submitted and gave up all control. While humping me, he whispered in my ear. "Now, boy, I got your cherry." He gnawed on my ear, sending goose-bumps all over me. "You see? With your asshole stretched around my big cock, all your stress and worries fade away." He was right! I was in Oz. Everything was good. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The fire and agony of his teasing me to madness and the Big Moment of losing my cherry had passed, and I floated on a river of pleasure! Coach Niengwiek, the world's best guide into man-sex, knew my thoughts. "Relax now, boy. Give it up to me. I'm going to cum in your ass, your first breeding. You're the bitch now, so make it good." His arms dropped around my chest and hugged me, pinching my nipples--again making me crazy. The slimy feel of his chest against my back and his teeth biting my ear drove me nuts. Damn, it was fabulous! I had knelt too close to the desk, and his final lunges actually tapped the top of my head against it. The bang-bang-bang was the horniest sound I ever heard, and suddenly I went over the falls! I looked down between my legs. My cock, rock-hard, hovering in mid-air, reddened and swelled even bigger. "Oh, god, Coach, I'm almost there, too! Do it, you bastard! Deeper! Faster!" My eyes closed as the ecstasy hit me. With Niengwiek's steam-engine rhythm, I swam in a river of molten lava that swept me into a fiery hell of the hottest, most incinerating orgasm I ever had! Niengwiek's fucking made me a new man. Every bit of the old me cremated to ashes in the blazing bonfire his cock ignited in me. Only one thought floated above the rapturous inferno: I am his bitch, his mate. He owns me. Everything I am is his. As the fireworks of my lost virginity began to slow, gradually a new body formed from the cooling ecstasy--to this day I wonder how long that orgasm lasted. It felt like hours--but when I finally came to, I found my head collapsed on my hands again, but my hips still rocking to Niengwiek's driving cock. I opened my eyes and looked to the side. My body. It's back. But no, it wasn't the old body. Niengwiek had made me over. I was a new man. His bitch. I straightened my arms, pulling myself back up horizontal again, feeling the wonderful thrill of a cock skewering my grateful asshole, and I clenched it down around him. My duty as a bitch. Anything to increase his pleasure. When he stiffened, rammed his cock up me to the hilt, and held it, I was bred. Full of his swimmers. To the bottom of my balls, I understood what it meant to be a male's bitch. To be bred by the Master-fucker was such a turn-on and I was so fucking proud, I actually went into another orgasm, spurting out more jets of my own sperm as a salute to the master's jism inside me. Coach Niengwiek turned me inside-out that afternoon. Once I was a cocksure, arrogant teenager with a big dick. Suddenly I was a man in a world that was a carnival of sexual possibilities! The thrill of fucking a woman was no longer my only choice. And something else, a stunning discovery: fucking is fine, but being fucked is fabulous! As I staggered out of Coach Niengwiek's office, I knew one thing: a rim-job is not to pleasure the rimmer; it's to turn the rimmee into a sex-crazed slave, a built-in aphrodisiac every man secretly carries, a keyhole to his libido that any man with a tongue can jimmy open--and own him. I also had a strange new problem: How can I get other guys to fuck me? I knew how to get blowjobs. I knew how to fuck women. But to get fucked? That required some thought. How do girls do it? Never really thought much about that before. Let's see: skimpy clothes, show some skin, say seductive little double-entendre things. Girls would sidle up to me, somehow letting me know they were available--or could be made to be. How did they do that? Damn, with the shoe on the other foot--changing from plug to socket--I was a real beginner. But I had to get another guy to fuck me. I had to feel that again. And while I was at it, I would like to fuck a guy. Never did it before. Thought it was faggoty. But back in the coach's office, did he get as big a thrill as I did? I never got an orgasm from fucking a cheerleader as big as the climax I got from the old coach's cock up my ass. Was his climax as big on his side? The concept was stunning. If he got the same atomic orgasm I did, it meant fucking a man was better than fucking a woman. Damn, what a revelation. I stopped and leaned against the wall. All those years wasted! Never getting fucked by guys who would've done it to me! I bit my lip--I thought being fucked would make me queer. But I had just writhed on the floor under an old man, begging him to fuck me--and when I got up, I was still exactly the same guy--well, the same guy with an ass full of sperm. I didn't suddenly start taking baby steps. My wrists weren't limp. I picked up a rock and threw it across the street with just a flick of my wrist. I still had hair on my chest. I'm still me! Am I really? My asshole still purred from Coach Niengwiek's penetration, and I was already thinking about getting fucked again. Am I really still a stud? I decided I needed to fuck a man so as to answer two question: (1) Is fucking an asshole hotter than sex with a cunt, and (2) With my new eagerness to feel a man mount me, could I still get it up to fuck somebody? Sure I can! But deep down inside, I wondered. My new mission: troll me a Curious guy and fuck him. Shouldn't be so tough. The following day, still warm October, I wore tight walking shorts that showed off my butt to the max, so tight over my crotch bulge, anybody paying attention could tell I was circumcised. A black T-shirt clung to every upper-body muscle. I got quite a few admiring glances, and when I went into a men's room in the library, a guy immediately joined me, stood at the next urinal, and unzipped. He glanced over at me. I stepped back a little and let him see ol' Siege Mortar. His eyes widened. The deal was sealed, almost like shaking hands. I gave him the first order, "Meet me in the stall." Turning Out The Confident I reached my pleasure pinnacle, and commenced to pump him full of my sperm with deep, powerful thrusts. I got to him, too. As I moved my hand up and down shaft, he started trembling under me, and strong spurts of something hot and sticky slopped over my hand. As the charioteer, I was a little disappointed, though. His asshole was as tight as a teenage cheerleader's, but when I came in his butt, the orgasm--although a good one (made me weak in the knees)--wouldn't go down in history. It was nothing like soaring over the gates of heaven like when I pulled Niengwiek's chariot. I remembered what a girl had told me once when I asked her who felt better in sex. She looked at me and said, "When your ear itches, and you stick your finger in your ear, which feels better, your finger or your ear?" My new acolyte had just learned that. When I finally pulled out of his ass and leaned back against the door, he stood up and looked back at me full of wonder. "God, that was awesome! You are the hottest stud in the world!" As I unlocked the door and prepared to leave, he came up behind me and thrust a slip of paper into the waistband of my shorts. "My name is Dennis! This is my telephone number! Call me! Anytime! Anywhere!" I walked away from the library men's room reviewing my first college research: Fucking a man was good. It did not turn me fairy--I was still myself, no sudden urge to start singing Barbra Streisand songs. The surprise discovery was the major turn-on of pushing the guy up to the next level (and the worship he gave me afterward). Fucking a man wasn't the maximum experience, though, and that brought up a problem. If fucking a man was the Jim Beam of sex, I could happily exist with a few shots of that from time to time, but I wanted the 12-year-old Scotch, the Chivas Regal of fucking--I had to get myself bred, and I didn't want to depend on Niengwiek's convenience. I wanted the thrill of the hunt. I'd have get a Confident, another top. It hit me: I'm not a top anymore. I'll have to go through what Dennis just had, surrender my superiority. Damn. That's a downer. And something else: whenever I showed hard at the urinals, I was always the biggest son of a bitch in the valley. I hadn't met every man in the world, of course, but no man I met so far had a bigger cock than mine. How could I convince a man with only 6 inches that my 10 inches wanted him to fuck me? I'd have to be stealthy. But will I remain a stud after getting a guy to fuck me?