Taking One for the Team

“Hey, Coach. You wanted to see me?”

Standing in the doorway of my office, Taylor looked nervous. He was a good-looking kid, a sophomore in college with brownish-blond hair, a California tan, and a face that was transitioning from boyish to handsome. He was already quite good-looking; in a few years, he’d be stunning. 

“Come on in. Have a seat.” I made sure I was using my serious coach voice, the one that let the wrestlers know this wasn’t a meeting where they could joke around. But he already knew that. As he took the seat next to my desk, Martín, my assistant coach, got up from his desk and closed the office door. Taylor’s expression shifted from nervous to worried. I’ll admit, watching this young guy who was normally so cocky being so anxious was a turn-on for me. As Martín slid his swivel chair over to us, I made eye contact with him. He was seeing exactly what I was seeing. 

I pulled my desk chair out from my desk and positioned it  so I could face Taylor. “Do you know what this meeting is about, Taylor?”

He nodded, unwilling to make eye contact with either of us. “Yeah.” 

He stayed silent, so I prompted him. “Why don’t you tell us what you think this is about.”

“I came to practice really late this morning.” He looked over at Martín. “I’m really sorry. I screwed up.”

Martín nodded. “Twenty minutes late. And when I called you out on it, how did you react?” 

“I wasn’t respectful.”

“You said ‘Lay off me. I know I’m late.’ That’s why I sent you home. It wasn’t just that you were late. You were disrespectful.”

Taylor nodded and chewed his lower lip in a way that said he understood he was in the wrong. “I’m sorry, Martín. I shouldn’t have said it.” Then he turned to me and looked me in the eye. “I know what I did was inappropriate, Sir. It won’t happen again.” 

My instincts told me that Taylor was sorry. But not as sorry as he was letting on. I’ve been coaching college students long enough to know the ‘I’m sorry and it won’t happen again’ act when I see it. I get it a lot. These student athletes are young, in good shape, and used to being able to get what they want. So many of them learn the fake contrition routine because it gets them what they want. Well, not this time, kid. I know this game way better than you do. 

“Why did you show up so late?” I asked.

“I overslept. I forgot to set my alarm.”

I know a half-truth when I hear one. “Why did you forget to set your alarm?”

He twisted for a second, looking for a good answer. “I dunno.”

“Did it have anything to do with all the drinking you were doing last night?”

His expression said “Oh, shit! You know about that!” although he did a reasonable job of hiding it. Yeah, I know about that party. Brad said during practice that it was quite the rager. 

Eventually he nodded. “Yeah,” he said quietly. 

Martín leaned in. “Taylor, we don’t care if you’re out partying. We care if you’re partying so hard you’re performing badly.”

“And you’ve lost most of your recent matches, “ I added. “You’re three and seven for the semester.” 

“Yeah, I know. I’ll do better,” he said. “I just need to start getting serious. I just haven’t been keeping my head in the game.” I got so tired of hearing students produce the same three or four clichés because they’d learned those clichés got results from gullible teachers and high school coaches. I’m not that dumb, kid.

Martín leaned in. “This isn’t just hurting you, Taylor. It’s hurting the whole team. You’re pulling all your teammates down. So this is bigger than just you.” Martín knew the script for this conversation as well as I did. We’d been having it with members of the wrestling team for a decade now.

Although I kept my demeanor stern and impassive, inside I was enjoying this, and my cock was beginning to respond, knowing what was coming next. I said, “At some point, Taylor, we need to start thinking about what’s best for the whole team.”  

Taylor looked up, and I could see some genuine fear in his expression. “Are you…are you thinking about cutting me from the team?”

“Can you give me a good reason not to?” I asked. “If you’re going to focus on partying more than wrestling, I may have to.”

“No, I’m willing to focus!” he said, with a look of genuine panic. “I’m really sorry. I’ll cut back on the parties. I promise!”

Martín said, “It’s not just the partying, Taylor.”

“What else do I need to do to stay on the team?”

“Showing up to practice and actually focusing on your technique. When you do practice, you’re not focusing.”

He nodded, but said nothing. 

“You’re also eating for shit and it’s showing,” I said. “Stand up and take your shirt off.”

Taylor looked surprised, but did as ordered. He was in pretty decent shape, a compact body with a lot of muscle on it. But all the drinking he had been doing had started to hide the muscle behind some fat, particularly around his belly. He had gone from fairly defined to a bit beefy. 

I stepped into his personal space and patted his stomach. Despite a little fat, his core was pleasingly solid and firm. “This is what happens when you party too much. The carbs in those beers pack on really fast. You need to put in more time doing cardio. If you creep up into the next weight category, you’re gonna be getting your ass kicked every time you’re out on the mat.” 

Martín stepped behind him and ran his hands over Taylor’s shoulders. “But your delts are really good. Flex your biceps.” When Taylor did as instructed, Martín fondled them appreciatively. Since Taylor couldn’t see his face, he looked me in the eye and made a rather lustful smile. He was enjoying this almost as much as I was. I liked the contrast between Taylor and Martín, Taylor’s tanned white skin contrasting with the permanent tan Martín got from his Colombian ancestors, the lightness of Taylor’s hair next to the jet-black hair Martín sported. I didn’t change my expression at all, although if Taylor had looked down at my crotch he would have seen my growing bulge.

Taylor was looking bewildered and overwhelmed, but he offered no resistance as Martín and I fondled his body. “Your pecs are solid, kid,” I said, punching one of them and pushing him back against Martín for a moment. I could see that Taylor’s shorts were tenting. I’d been right in my reading of him. Lots of wrestlers get hard during matches, but Taylor only got hard when he was losing. If you do enough losing with me and Martín, kid, maybe you’ll start winning on the mat.

I grabbed Taylor firmly by the back of the neck. “If you want to stay on this team, you need to prove that you’ve got value to the team, kid.” I looked him straight in the eye and watched as he realized the meaning of what I had said. “Get down on your knees.”

Taylor knelt down, a nervous expression flooding across his face. Martín knelt down behind him. “Take out his cock,” he said. 

Taylor looked up at me as to see how serious this order was. I looked down at Taylor sternly. After a few moments, he reached up and unzipped my jeans. He fumbled my jockstrap out of the way and liberated my cock. He looked at it nervously. I didn’t blame him. Its girth-y seven inches intimidated even experienced members of the team.

“Now open your mouth and suck it,” Martín commanded. Taylor complied hesitantly, pressing his mouth forward and taking the head in. He sucked at it tentatively. 

Martín put his hand on the back of Taylor’s head and gently pushed it forward. “Keep going. Open your mouth all the way,“ he said with the same firm but encouraging voice he used when he was explaining something new to one of the freshmen on the team. As Taylor began to work his way down my shaft, Martín added, “That’s right. Now tighten your lips around it, but keep your jaw wide enough that your teeth aren’t scraping it.” 

Fifteen years ago, Martín had been the one down there sucking my dick, so he knew exactly how I liked it done. He always did a great job teaching the guys what I needed. So he gradually coached Taylor on his technique. I just stood there, towering over Taylor, grunting my approval whenever he did something I liked. After a couple of minutes, he was sucking my cock enthusiastically. 

Soon, however, Martín started pulling Taylor’s shorts and underwear down, exposing the impressive ass that we’d both been lusting over for months. He forced Taylor’s legs back, making him drop down onto all fours. I sat down in my swivel chair with my legs spread wide so that he could keep servicing me. Then Martín got down behind him and starting rimming him. 

I watched approvingly as my assistant coach slowly relaxed Taylor’s ass, first with his tongue and then with his fingers. From the sudden gasps and moans Taylor was making, I was pretty sure he’d never had his ass played with before. Taylor tried to stop sucking my dick, but I gently yet firmly forced his head back down. Martín loves eating a good ass, so he kept at it for quite a while.

Eventually, though, he went over to his desk drawer and pulled out the bottle of lube he kept there. He returned to his position behind Taylor and started lubing up his hole. It was evident that Taylor’s ass was getting more and more relaxed because Martín was able to slide his fingers in and out easily. I looked at Martín and nodded my head. He’s ready

Martín unzipped his pants and dropped them down to his knees, and then lubed up his cock. I grabbed Taylor’s hair and pulled him off my cock. “Kid, you want to stay on this team, don’t you?”

“Yes, Coach. I need to. My scholarship requires it.” Yeah, sure, kid. You’re only doing this for your scholarship. Keep telling yourself that.

“Then you need to earn you place. As long as I know that you’re gonna work hard to please me and Martín, I think there might be room here for you.” I pulled him up so his arms were resting on my thighs. “Are you gonna bust your ass to keep us happy?”

“I’ll work really hard, Sir. I’ll do whatever I have to do to please you.” He winced as Martín’s cock began to press against his ass, but didn’t try to pull away. 

“Kid, you can handle this. We wouldn’t be doing this if we didn’t think you were the right man for the job. Show me that we were right.”

He nodded his head desperately, wincing and grunting as Martín invaded him. I looked into Taylor’s eyes, seeing a mixture of discomfort and excitement as he took what I was certain was his first dick. 

“That’s right, kid. You’re doing it.” Taylor seemed almost excited to hear my praise. Martín sunk into him balls deep. “At this rate, you’ll stay on the team for sure.”

Martín grabbed Taylor’s hips and began fucking him, gently at first, but with escalating force. I pushed Taylor back down to my crotch. At first he fought it, but I held his head in place. “Breathe through your nose, kid.” He struggled for a bit, but he gradually got the hang of it. 

After that we settled into a groove where Martín pounded his ass and I fucked his face by pulling his head up and down. I could feel Taylor grabbing onto my thighs. He was just holding on for dear life. 

I looked at Martín and grinned. I loved seeing how intense he got when he fucked one of the wrestlers. And after several years of this, I could tell when he was getting ready to cum. His breathing would quicken and his face would get scrunched up. So as Martín began to scrunch his face, I pulled Taylor off my cock and made him look into my eyes. I held his head in my hands and watched as Martín began to unload in his ass. Taylor’s expression was pure shock. You’re gonna get really familiar with that sensation, kid!

After Martín pulled out, I stood up and pulled Taylor up to standing. I leaned down and kissed him full on the mouth, a hard, passionate kiss with a lot of tongue. But before he could get used to what was happening, I turned him around and bent him over my desk, kicking his legs wide so that he had no choice except to lay his torso flat on the top of the desk. That position made his ass absolutely pop out, two big powerful globes of meat that I needed to get into. I got a handful of lube from Martín and quickly slicked up my dick. Taylor’s ass looked too inviting for me to not claim it, and Martín’s seed was starting to ooze out. That sight made my blood rise. I needed to rut in his ass.

I stepped up between his legs and pushed in. My dick is thicker than Martín’s, which is why I always let him fuck the guys first; it helped loosen them up to accept my cock. As I began to press my cock in, Taylor gasped. “Jesus Christ!” 

“You can do it, fucker. If you want to stay on this team, you’re gonna find a way to take it.” 

He moaned in discomfort and shifted his ass, trying to find a position that felt easier more comfortable. Eventually, with some encouragement from Martín, he managed to relax his ass enough to fully admit me. His ass gripped my shaft pleasingly as I began to pound him. I’ve never been one to be gentle when I fuck. That’s why Martín and I worked out our system of him warming the boys up and loosening their asses. When it’s my turn, I can just cut loose on them. The ones who can handle it are gonna do well; they stay on the team and Martín and I train them to excel both in wrestling and in taking dick. 

Taylor impressed me by holding up well to my assault. After he adjusted to my aggression, he started pushing back into my thrusts, using the desk to support him and give him some leverage. Even when I started pulling on his hair, he kept up the tension. Pretty soon both of us were drenched in sweat.

“I think he’s gonna be a winner, “ I said to Martín. Then I put both arms on the desk and leaned forward, pressing the weight of my torso onto his and getting into the best position for deep penetration. “You’re my bitch, boy,” I grunted in his ear.

“Yes, Coach,” he panted. 

I intensified my thrusts because I knew I was getting close. My ferocity began to wear Taylor down; his resistance began to slacken as his body conceded total defeat. I tipped over the point of no return with a loud growl and began to flood his guts with my seed. Taylor cried out as that happened, overwhelmed by the sensation. 

I pulled out and stepped back, dropping into  my swivel chair with exhaustion. My salt-and-pepper hair was wet with sweat. Martín stepped up and reached between Taylor’s legs to begin stroking his swollen cock. It didn’t take long for the kid to start to cum, shooting a big load onto the carpet beneath my desk. 

“Good job!” said Martín as he milked Taylor’s rod dry. “That’s how you do it.” 

Taylor staggered over to his chair, walking with a bandy-legged gait. There was jizz making its way down the inside of his leg. He slumped into the seat and looked at me. At first, he had a glazed expression, but after a few moments the glassiness faded and I could tell he was thinking about what had just happened. 

“It looks like you’re willing to get serious after all,” I said, resuming my professional demeanor, even though my dick was still hanging out of my jeans. 

Taylor looked at me, still processing everything. “Yes, Coach. I am. I want to stay on the team. I promise I’ll do what it takes.”

“You’re gonna have to bust your ass. You’re gonna cut back on the partying. You’re gonna show up to practice and workouts on time every time. And you’re gonna be meeting with us regularly for additional training. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Coach.”

“Then congratulations. You’re still on the team.”

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