May 24th, 2010 | 
Author: Tim now stood up and stretched. He took his cum-soaked jock off and used it as a cloth to wipe down his hot body. He wouldn't wash it. Later, one whiff and he would be in ecstasy. Chris cleaned up in a similar fashion. These boys were whipped! They bent down and took off their shoes and turned to head for the showers. After their first liaison, the shower they took afterward, though only made up of soapy massage and warm embrace, was almost as powerful as the sex they had enjoyed.
Coach Miller was standing about six feet away when they saw him. Needless to say, they were surprised. Coach Miller was a fantasy object for every male or female at their high school. He was 28, and when Tim considered the people he knew that he'd like to fuck, Coach Miller was the one. When Tim would try and wake up early, one thing that would get him going would be to fantasize about Coach Miller. He would get hard, get up, jerk off and start his day.
He wasn't thinking about that now. They both were speechless.
Coach Miller looked pretty steely. "Chris, put your gear back on and head home. Tim, go grab a towel. I want to have a word with you in my office."
Tim went down and grabbed a gym towel that barely covered him. With a look back, Chris headed out. Coach Miller picked up Tim's jock and marched down to his office. He dropped the jock down on his desk and sat down in his chair. Tim stood there, nearly naked, but for some reason felt he had a lot of power in the situation.
"Sit down, Tim. I've got some advice for you."
"So, you finally went for the big prize, eh Tim?" said Coach somewhat mockingly. Tim wanted to pick up his cummy jock that lay on the desk and wipe the smirk off Coach's face with his cum.
Tim didn't know what Coach's game was. He always struck him as eminently cool, not someone hurtful or judgmental. Tim felt fine sitting there, half-covered with a towel and the smell of sweat and cum rising off his young body.
Coach had come back from a run when he stumbled upon the two boys in the locker room, and his hot 28 year-old frame was glowing with perspiration. He was wearing a large, loose-fitting tank top that was soaked with sweat. One reason that Coach was such a fantasy object around the high school was his hot body and the fact that he did not dress as the traditional coach; no polyester shorts, shirt and whistle with knee socks for Coach Miller. He was wearing black lyra shorts that stopped a few inches above his knees, short ankle socks and running shoes. He leaned back in his chair; the sweaty tank top covered his crotch. Tim wanted him.
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