The Legendary Coach Brooks Ch. 02

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Sweat dripped onto my face – his sweat. The rhythm of our breathing was in sync. Both were labored and continuing to trend further in that direction. Whenever a moan would escape my lips, a satisfied cocky smile would form on his. He pinned my shoulders down with his meaty paws. They wrinkled my red jersey – a jersey I hadn’t worn since my playing days thirteen years ago. He wore a matching jersey, only his was a little more filled out. His burly arms stretched the elastic of the sleeves and his plump belly filled the red mesh to make the number 58 on it perfectly readable. The white lettering that spelled out Cedar Springs was partially covered up by the backs of my knees which had been draped over his shoulders. My body was folded in half as this man that was double my size buried his cock deep into me. He broke his steady rhythm and thrusted hard into me causing me to moan louder than I had all night.

“Yeah? Does my QB like that? Does my QB like his center’s thick cock?”

“Yes Sir. Please. Pound me.” I said panting for breath.

“That’s a good boy. Good QB. Let the big men do all the work. You know how to do that, don’t you?”

“Yes Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

“Good boy. Good boy.”

Tyler proceeded to pound me with heavy thrusts. I could now feel his thigh pads press against my bare hamstrings. Tyler had wanted to live out this little fantasy of ours – fucking me while in our old football uniforms. I, too, had dawned a pair of tight crimson pants earlier in the night. The knee pads in them proved to be very useful during the foreplay leading up to this point. We took a couple of snaps for old times sake and then once we were all horned up I dropped to my knees and kissed and sniffed every part of his red nylon pants starting in the back and making my way around the front, finishing with my head buried in his ample sack. I, then, undid the drawstring and parted the pants when my appetite could not be teased any longer. I provided a service of gratitude to this beast in the trenches for his many years of protecting my scrawny ass. But when the drive entered the “red zone,” I was lifted off my knees, thrown on the bed, and unceremoniously stripped of my football pants. I wore only my number 3 jersey and a red jock (a jock I had been made to wear all week and contained the name of me and Tyler’s high school football coach on the tag).

Tyler’s heavy breathing turned more into grunts, and I could tell he was getting close. I became more audible too, driven by the sound of his husky growls.

“That’s it, boy. Let me hear you.”

I responded with more moaning.

“C’mon QB. You can do better than that! You’re a signal barker. So bark!!”

I smiled at this and tried to channel the volume of a quarterback starting a play. My moans became full fledged whines which is not how you want to sound on the field. But, the patheticness of my voice sent my center over the edge, and he growled deep from inside his chest. With one final thrust, he unloaded, and then collapsed on top of me.

We stared at each other as we caught our breath. We both smiled. He kissed me on the forehead. “Touchdown,” he said.

He rolled over and laid there by my side still trying to catch his breath. When the blood returned to my legs I looked over at him. The crimson football pants he wore were now a dark red from all the sweat they had collected over the course of the last half hour. It was a color I knew all too well from our many Friday nights together. His dick still hung from his opened pants and his belly poked out from underneath his jersey. We both looked at each other. The fantasy was slowly disappearing into the musky air and we realized how ridiculous we looked laying in his bed with football uniforms on. We shared a good laugh. We took off our clothes and laid there in our underwear: me in a jock, him in black Under Armour boxer briefs.

“So you guys lost again tonight.” Tyler said.

“Yeah, we played like crap.”

“To West Plains? That’s bad. Really bad. Sorry for being honest.”

“No, you’re fine.” Although on the inside I thought he was an asshole. “You’re right, anyway. That’s only their second win all year.”

“I’d imagine the Richmond faithful are quite upset.”

“Yeah, they are. No one says anything to me. but I can read it on their faces. I think my assistants are frustrated too.”

Tyler and I continued to talk about the season. He tried to comfort me a little. I think part of him felt guilty for the hand he played in outing me to our high school football coach, Coach Brooks. Coach Brooks was the coach of the Cedar Springs Red Raiders – a powerhouse football program that Tyler and I played for years ago and whom we both were assistant coaches for until recently (Tyler still was). Coach Brooks had humiliated my team in a beatdown last Friday, and at an after party after walking in on me and Tyler having some fun, had seduced me and eventually put me on my back and fucked me. I was to meet with Coach Brooks on Sunday Ankara escort evening for a film session. I suspected watching film wasn’t all we would be doing however.

“So what did Coach Brooks talk to you about after…you know?” Tyler hesitated to ask.

I told Tyler about my conversation with Coach Brooks last Sunday. I had to check in with him each day, and was not allowed to cum without his permission. He also sent me a red jock in the mail with his name on the tag. I was instructed to wear this jock each day. Coach Brooks had also explained to me that only men used their dick and wore what they wanted. I wasn’t a real man. I was a boy. His words not mine. I didn’t object to any of this. All I said was, “Yes Coach. Yes Daddy.”

I could tell from the stir in his boxer briefs that Tyler was starting to get hard again from my story. He told me about his own sexual history with Coach Brooks. It was definitely more dignified than my current predicament. Tyler didn’t need any man’s permission to cum and he could wear whatever underwear he wanted. That made sense. Tyler was big, strong, and weighed 260lbs. He was much more of a man than my 160lb skinny frame. Even so, Tyler was definitely in some ways at the service of Coach Brooks.

While on the surface our relationships with Coach Brooks might seem degrading, we knew no one should feel sorry for us. Coach Brooks had been our fantasy daddy since our playing days. We were only too happy to be able to drink from such an icon of masculinity. Hell, Coach Brooks was such a legend in these parts, I think any man, young or old, would be on their knees for Coach Brooks if he simply demanded it.

“So are you going to let me cum tonight?” I blushed hearing myself say those words out loud.

“Let me think about that one.” Tyler’s hand returned to my red pouch. It was pointing straight north toward my belly button, but the waistband of my jock still laid flat against my abdomen undisturbed and untouched by my four inch erection. “Damn he’s small. You’d think after not being able to exercise for a week he’d be a little bit bigger – ready to bust at the seams at the slightest touch. But no, he’s still just a little guy.”

I exhaled deeply, delighting in the subtle touches of his big hands and the sweet sound of his words. I loved being made to feel small both in mind and in body. I scooted closer to him and nuzzled into his bigger frame.

“What if we waited another week? See if the little guy got any bigger. It might help with your self confidence and produce some better results for your team.”

I looked over at Tyler. His face was smiling – more with his eyes than his lips. My face, in turn, had a look of desperate pleading.

“Tyler, please!”

He raised an eyebrow in displeasure.

“Sir, please!” I corrected myself. “I can’t go for another week. I helped get you off. Please let me have a turn.”

Tyler stopped rubbing the outline of my cock and pulled me deep into him so that my head rested on his bare stomach.

“You’ve been a good little stud QB tonight. You can cum. But first…” He put his hand on the back of my head and shoved me into the crevice of his crotch. I felt his half hard cock against my cheek. “You’ve got me turned on again with your stories. I think you need to take care of that first.”

“Yes Sir.” I said in a muffled voice. He grabbed my hair and pulled me out of his crotch.

“Good boy. Good QB.” He gave me a peck on the lips. Then, he pushed his boxer briefs down and off (a service I normally did) and slammed my head down onto his cock. I was ready for this with an open mouth and smoothly accepted his cock into my mouth without any sort of collision.

It was a quick service, one that ended with Tyler pumping his hips into me from the bottom while he held my head in place with his hands. I received my midnight snack and only then was I allowed to take off my jock and relieve a week’s worth of sexual frustration. It took me less than thirty seconds. I cleaned us both up, put my jock back on, and fell asleep wrapped in the arms of my teammate and best friend. Damn, did I love Friday nights!

I woke up early the next morning to the sound of Tyler snoring in my ear. I decided to head out early as I had to make it back to the school for a Saturday morning film session and had a thirty minute drive to tackle. I struggled from underneath Tyler’s heavy arm. I showered and made sure to scrub underneath after the fucking I received just six hours earlier. I left Tyler still snoring in the bed and made my way back to Richmond High School. The film session was pretty shitty. The players were distracted and not listening. I tried to lay into them a little bit explaining this distraction was exactly what our problem was the previous night and a big part of why we lost. This had no effect, and I saw several players still thumbing away on their phones. I didn’t have the courage to call them out. None of my assistant coaches came Ankara escort bayan to my aid. We ended the day shortly thereafter.

The coaches office was quiet as we waited for the players to filter out of the building. My staff and I were normally very friendly with each other. We got along well and even enjoyed the occasional poker game together. Ever since the Cedar Springs game though, that friendliness had seemed to dissipate. None of them cracked jokes anymore, at least not when I was in the room. I decided to leave the awkward tension and made my way to head out the building. I walked down a long hallway that led to the back parking lot. On one side of the hallway were classrooms and on the other side were administrative offices. The light was on in the athletic director’s office, and when I passed by a voice called me in.

“Coach Henderson, are you leaving for the day?” The voice was that of Coach Jim Meyers, Richmond’s longtime athletic director. I backtracked a few steps and popped my head in the doorway.

“Yes Sir, I’m going to grab a bite to eat and then probably watch some more film when I get home.”

“That’s not a bad idea. After the last couple weeks I think the team could use all the preparation it can get.”

It was a soft insult but it landed where it was intended. I swallowed, unable to think of any sort of response.

“Come on in Coach and close the door. We need to talk a bit.”

I stepped in and closed the door behind me. ‘What was this about?’ I thought. Coach Meyers folded his hands and rested them against his chin. He was a rough yet handsome man with thick black hair trimmed short on the sides and a bit longer on top. He had a dark complexion that had been permanently amplified over the years after many hours in the sun. He stared at the opposite window for a moment gathering his thoughts. I waited patiently, becoming distracted by the man’s thick forearms covered in thick black hair.

Coach Meyers had a football background himself. He was a large man standing every bit of 6’4 and was a former 320lb college defensive tackle. He had slimmed down a bit from his playing weight, but he was still a monstrous presence. He was close to sixty years old and had been the defensive coordinator at Richmond (in addition to his athletic director job) but when his wife passed away he took a step back from coaching, so he could spend more time with his kids and grandkids. He had an intimidating reputation being known for his quick temper and ability to dress down anyone that stepped out of line with a good ass chewing. Coaches and students knew that his word was law. There was no going against Coach Meyers. You did things his way, no ifs, ands, or buts. Fortunately, in my short time at Richmond, I had avoided any confrontations with him. I thought I was on his good side, but at this moment and given recent events, I was a bit nervous stepping into his office. I closed the door behind me.

“You know, Tim,” Coach Meyers began with his low gruff voice, “I’m worried about this team. I know we’re 5-2, but the last two weeks have been awful. We’ve never had this amount of talent before and losing to West Plains is unacceptable. Now, I know you’re doing your best, but to be frank with you, people are starting to talk. I’m hearing it from parents, players, and even from some of your staff, that you’ve lost the confidence of the team. The players are being outright defiant, and you don’t know how to reel them in. That’s not good, son.”

He turned his gaze from the window to look me in the eye. He had the look of a disappointed father having to discipline one of his kids.

“You think I’ve lost the team?” I shuffled in my stance.

Coach Meyers leaned back in his chair with great animation. “Yes Tim, I do. Shit, I heard from your own staff that your quarterback was changing the plays in the huddle. And you did nothing! How are you going to let a 17 year old override you? I may question your play calling of late, but you can’t let some high school kid call the plays.”

He put his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling in frustration. His red gym shorts had ridden up his thick hairy matted thighs creating a perfect outline of his enormous bulge. ‘Daddy Big Balls’ was the nickname I called him in my head whenever I masturbated to him (back when I was allowed to masturbate that is).

“What should I have done?” I asked.

“What should you have done? Tim! You should have grabbed him by the facemask and let him know who’s boss, and if he did it again that you would bench his ass. I know I’m old school but you can’t be soft with these kids. It’s what’s wrong with their generation. No one is willing to be tough with them anymore. They need a swift kick in the ass from time to time. You’re from Cedar Springs. Are you telling me Coach Brooks never ripped you a new one?”

“All the time.” I said. I shivered on the inside recalling the sound of Coach Brooks’ thunderous holler.

“So Escort Ankara you know how it works. That’s part of the reason we hired you. Don (Coach Brooks) had many good things to say about you. It’s time to start putting those things into action.” Coach Meyers stood up from his chair and walked around his desk toward me. “Do what he did. Be Coach Brooks to these players.”

Be Coach Brooks? That was insane. There is no alternate universe where I could match his intimidating presence. I pictured him pacing the sidelines – his arms folded and his face frozen with a look that accepted nothing but respect and obedience. That was not me. No Sir. My face dropped thinking about how limited I was as an authority figure.

“Boy, get that pouty look off your face. If you don’t buck up soon and get this ship on the right course before playoffs, well, we won’t have any other choice other than to let you go. The time for mediocrity is over.” He stepped closer to me. “We want to win, and we want to win now. Specifically, we want to beat Cedar Springs. We’ve got the players now to do it. Now, we need to find the man who can lead them in that endeavor. And if you’re not the man who can do that, well, we will find someone else who can.

Coach Meyers and I were now almost chest to chest. He stared down at me with his hands on his hips. He was four inches taller than me, but at that moment, it seemed like that height difference was more like four feet. I didn’t say anything, but my face communicated everything. It was a look of fear and uncertainty. Disappointed, he took a step back and walked toward the opposite wall. His hands remained on his hips which pulled his shirt tight against his broad back and shoulders. I stared momentarily at his ass, which was big and wide enough to smother me twice over.

“You’re too nice a kid, Tim. Maybe that’s the problem. Nice guys aren’t cut out to be in charge.”

This new talk about being in charge suddenly made me aware of the red jock underneath my gym shorts. The straps clung tightly to my legs, and I swear I could feel the imprint of the owner’s lettering on the tag. Tears started to form in my eyes. Coach Meyers turned back around. As he did so, I turned away to try and hide my face. I wasn’t fast enough.

“Are you crying?”

“No,” I did my best to lie while quickly blinking back tears.

“Son, turn around.”

I obeyed, but I refused to look at him. Instead I stared at the notepads on his desk. He walked closer to me. He bent down to meet me at eye level. I had no choice but to look at him now. There was no hiding the water in my eyes.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. This is the head coach I hired? Damn you, Jim. What have you done?”

He turned around in disgust. My chin dropped to my chest as I heard him blame himself for hiring me. He was right, though. It was a mistake. I wasn’t cut out to be a head coach. Head coaches don’t cry. Men don’t cry. I was neither a coach, nor a man. He turned back around.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” It was a demand more than a question.

“I’m sorry?” I said.

“You’re sorry!”

“I don’t know what you want me to say?” I blurted out in frustration and with a clear croak in my voice.

“I don’t care what you say,” he was now yelling, “you could say anything as long as you said it like a man,” he grabbed his groin and shook it, “as long as you said it with some balls. Grow some hair on your nuts, son, and speak up for yourself.”

My nickname for him was right. His hand was more than full when he grabbed himself.

“Say something to make me believe in you. Do something to make me believe in you. If you punched me right now that would be better than saying you’re sorry! Son, are you listening? What the fuck are you looking at?”

My head snapped up. His previous shaking gesture had left my eyes fixated on that spot. I had only half heard what he had said after. My face turned Cedar Springs red.

“I asked you a question, boy. What were you looking at?”

“Nothing, Sir.”

He stepped toward me, this time close enough that he bumped me with his chest. His large stomach pressed against mine. I could feel his warm breath on my face. I dared not look away. I dared not speak. His eyes had an inquisitive gleam. We stayed like this for several seconds.

“Nothing, huh? It sure didn’t look like you were looking at nothing.”

“I swear, Sir. I wasn’t looking at anything – just staring off into space.”

He let out a questioning hum. The uncomfortableness of the situation was unbearable.

“May I be dismissed, Sir.” I asked.

He waited a moment.

“Yes, you may.” He said. But he stuck a large finger in my chest. “You better straighten your act out soon, kid. Because if you don’t, I won’t even wait until the end of the season to fire your ass. Now, get out of my sight.” He shoved me backwards with his finger.

“Yes Sir.” I said stumbling out of his office. As I closed the door behind me, I noticed my offensive coaching staff walking down the hallway. Their smiles and snickers told me they had heard Coach Meyers give me this final threat. Who knows what else they heard. I put my head down, embarrassed, and walked ahead of them and hurried out the door without saying anything.

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