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forsolamente.peperonity.net

<<Coached>>

My senior year in high school was truly a great time for me. I was eighteen years old and the star forward on my basketball team. Ranked the number two player in the whole country, I was on my way to the top college basketball program, on full scholarship and was already promised a starting position in my freshman year! Not only that, my grades were perfect, everybody in town loved me and I had this beautiful (and sexy) girlfriend who was willing to walk to the ends of the Earth for me. Yep, everything was going great that year; all I had to do was ride the wave of celebrity until entering school.

Our season started in late fall and our schedule for that year was pretty easy because my high school was playing mostly mediocre teams. I guess I would have liked to have been in a better league that provided more challenging opponents for my teammates and I. Not to sound too vain but I was pretty damn good and most of the players I went up against couldn’t even hope to have a chance of stopping me. Just to make the games fair, I would slow my game down or concentrate on getting members of my squad the ball so they could shoot and develop their skills. But I never gave myself any slack and would take every opportunity I had to practice; I wanted to get to college and really impress people with my game.

My devotion to the sport meant that I would often spend more time with a basketball than I did my family and friends. I suppose my work ethic was particularly hard on my girlfriend Michelle, who loved me dearly but often took backseat to my game. She was great though; I mean, she really understood how much basketball meant to me and I don’t think she ever felt jealous or short changed. I’d try to make every effort I could to spend time with her which meant going to the movies, eating dinner together and of course, fucking.

I can remember when we first got together both of us were really shy and hardly even made physical contact with one another. She was the first, and only, person I ever had sex with and I’m pretty sure she never had been with anyone either. But as our relationship developed over our high school years, we loosened up and by my senior year I would have to say that we were quite an adventurous peer when it came to intimate matters. Michelle and I went through every position in the book, weren’t afraid to use our mouths and we had begun what one could call " mutual anal exploration ". I thought that was the best thing of all being - able to stick my finger, tongue, dick, nose…. whatever, into her butt. But our anal escapades, if you will, weren’t contained to her bottom; I loved it when she would give me rim job or would finger me when we were fucking. It was all good just as long as we were both having fun.

I suppose my sort of sexual philosophy in which I would do anything for pleasure extended to other areas too. I had never been with another girl other than Michelle but admittedly, I looked forward to college girls. And, deep down in my mind, I always found the idea of being with a guy something that I would consider. I mean, I was raised in a fairly small town, that was dominated by rather conservative values that didn’t look to kindly on gays.

Growing up, homosexuality was an object of ridicule for me and my friends but I think that was based more on misinformation and fear, rather than religious or moral convictions. There were a couple of openly gay and lesbian students at my school who were constantly teased for being who they were. I never participated in any of it though; I didn’t stick up for them either but I secretly admired them for sticking to who they were in the face of such ignorance. Of course I would never voice this opinion in public and I certainly didn’t want to make it known that I might be bisexual. First of all, that might have alienated me from my teammates, which was something that I didn’t want. Second, when you live in small community, whatever actions you take are not only reflected on you but on your friends and family. I certainly could not put those that I cared for in that position. So, for me, although I looked forward to those college girls, some part of my being also looked forward to those college guys…

Towards the end of our season, I started to have a series of muscle injuries. They weren’t serious, but required me to go in for a number of physical therapy sessions. I was given a specific exercise regiment that was supposes to loosen me up and prevent things like muscle spasms, pulled hamstrings and such. Like I said, these weren’t career threatening problems but could, in the future, be minor annoyances that would cost me time that could be spent practicing or playing a game. Part of my regiment was exercise (running laps, weight training, etc.) and I also had to work with a physical trainer who would rub me down, test my agility and so forth. Everybody watched me closely to see how I was doing, especially my coach.

Now my coach, John Thompson (whom everyone called Coach Tom) was a great guy. He looked out for all his players and would spend all of his time attending to our needs, whether is was a walk-on freshman player who needed help with his jump shot or me, who was going on to a college career. I liked him for the fact that he treated me like everyone else, just another player on his team. Coach Tom was a brilliant coach who could probably get a position in college program or even work in professional leagues. But I think he really enjoyed working with high school kids and everybody was happy to have him.

The curious thing though is, nobody really knew much about his private life. Yes, he lived in town, he had played some college ball but beyond that he was a mystery. He was about 45 years old and grew up somewhere along the East Coast. But nobody questioned him though because he was always there at public activities and was usually available anytime anybody needed him. Tom didn’t have a wife or any one else to speak of and we never saw him go out on dates or even mention friends, family or any other intimate acquaintances. But like I said, no one bothered him because he did his job and did it well.

One day I was practicing alone in the gym when I had developed soreness in one of my thighs. I tried to walk it off, then stretch if off, but it didn’t seem to work. It didn’t worry me much, but I decided to find Coach Tom and see if he could offer any advice. I found him in his office studying the playbook and told him of my problem.

He asked me a few questions, told me to jump a bit but couldn’t find an immediate solution to the problem.

"Well, I suggest you rub your leg down with some Ben-Gay or something. And you should probably make an appointment with your trainer… see what he has to say. "

"Alright, " I told him. " Um, do you have any cream lying around? I left mine at home. "

He retrieved a tube of hot/cold cream and handed it to me. " You now, I did some physical therapy work in college. Um, do you want me to rub you down? "

I didn’t see anything wrong with that; being an athlete made me grow accustomed to being around other guys in these situations. I agreed and we went out into the locker room where we had a massage table and got down on my back. I was wearing my basketball shorts so there was no need to get into a towel or anything like that.

Coach stood over me, applied a glob of cream to my leg and gently massaged it into my leg. I felt the warmth of the stuff work it’s way under my skin and the vapors clung to the hairs in my nose. I always thought the cream had a sort of relaxing quality so I closed my eyes and let out a sigh of relief while Tom continued to work his hands around my thigh.

"How does that feel?" he asked.

"Hmm, good coach."

His voice was set at almost whisper. "You know, I think you’re really going to do good in college. I’ve seen a lot of kids with half your talent make it in school and even the NBA."

"Ha, NBA? No man, I can’t even think that far. " I replied.

He slapped my thigh, signaling that I turn over. I got on my stomach and he resumed the massage.

He spoke again. " No, I think you have the talent. I mean it’s good that you have the focus to not set your goals too high but I really think you’re the real deal."

"Thanks coach. I hope so. "

His hands work their way up the back of leg and to the base of my ass. He dug in a little deeper and had located the source of my muscle pain. I let out a moan. Again, the placement of his hands wasn’t unusual; I got full body rub downs from trainer all the time.

We heard a noise from the hallway and Coach jumped. I thought this was a little odd.

"Everything alright Coach? " I asked.

"Yea, the sound just caught me off guard. " And he returned his hands to my leg.

Again, a little strange. " Caught him off guard ", why?

Tom worked his hands up to the bases of my ass again. His fingers were gripping my thigh and they weren’t to far from my dick. Okay, this was getting a little uncomfortable so I shifted a bit. But he went back to the same position and more than that, his one hand was even closer to my penis than before. I started to sweat; I didn’t know what to do. I mean, it could have been an innocent gesture on his part and if I did or said anything, it might make him uncomfortable and send the wrong message. If on the other hand he was trying anything… I didn’t even know what I’d do then.

His one hand remained close to my dick, so close he must have felt my pubic hair. He then worked his other hand up and on to my ass. I just froze as he rubbed himself on my rear and then he fingers got a close to my crack… I jumped.

"What’s going on? Is everything all right? Did I hurt you? ". There was an air of nervousness in his voice.

I stood up and faced him. His eyes were wide open and his face was flush. I could see that his hands were trembling slightly. I don’t know but this just scared me.

"Um, Coach, I’m feeling better. I… I’ve got to go… study… at home. Thanks though. Bye. "

"Alright, " he said, seemingly gaining his composure. " I’ll see you at practice tomorrow morning. Bye. "

I got the hell out of there as fast as I could. I grabbed my stuff but didn’t bother changing. It was only until I was in my car that I had to time to breath and think about the situation.

I thought to myself: " What happened in there? What was he doing? I mean, it’s Coach; he would never do something like… like that to me. "

Driving home, my thoughts were still as erratic. Then I starting thinking about how little I knew about the man. If he had a wife or girlfriend things would have been different; then I could say: " The man is straight, he was just doing his job. He likes girls. ".

But then I started thinking: " But I don’t know anything about him. He doesn’t have a girlfriend or a wife or whatever and for all I know he could be gay. But I have a girlfriend and I would consider being with a guy so maybe what coach and I did was to him a prelude to something else. " ...
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