Home for the Holidays Ch. 03

Jake's face turned bright red as he grabbed the underwear and shoved it into his pillowcase, terrified of what would've happened if his Aunt or Uncle saw a cum-stained jockstrap sitting on his bed.

"Relax, I've seen it before. It was mine, you know?" Jerry offered. Then, seeing the blush in Jake's cheeks, he asked, "Are you all right? Are you sure you're okay with my being here?"

Jake's nerves kicked in again, and he silently panicked that he was ruining his second reunion with Coach Roberts. Things had worked out so perfectly when they first met in the diner two nights ago, he just didn't want some silly dinner with his family to ruin everything.

"Yes," he said. "It's just, my family has a way of getting under my skin. Not only did we," he paused before whispering, "do what we did, which would've set me on edge enough to have you meeting my parents, but you also already know them! If they knew—"

"They don't, and they won't," Jerry assured him, placing his hands on Jake's shoulders. "Believe me, I'm pretty good at keeping secrets, especially when I'm involved. Let's just go in there, have a nice dinner with your folks, and then I've got a little surprise for you."

"You do?" Jake asked. "Is that what's in the package?"

Jerry looked down and the gift in his hand. He had entirely forgotten about it as soon as he had seen Jake standing there in the living room. "Oh, no. This? You can have this now if you want."

He handed over the small gift, and Jake pulled the bow and ribbon over the corner and unwrapped the plaid paper. There was a framed photo inside of Jake and Coach Roberts from Jake's graduation party. It had been the night of graduation. Jake had invited several of his favorite teachers, but Coach Roberts had been the only one that had shown up. Coach Roberts looked exactly as Jake had remembered him from school. Jake, on the other hand . . .

"I really have put on some weight, haven't I?"

"Just a little," Jerry replied with a smirk.

"Thank you," Jake said, leaning in and hugging the old man. He wished to God that his parents weren't in the other room, that he could strip Coach Roberts out of his formal attire and fuck him on his childhood bed. But the reality of the situation was that they were now two minutes away from dinner, and it was best not to keep his mom waiting. "I love it."

"I'm glad. I had to dig a little for it."

He set the photo on the dresser, and they made their way to the dining room where everybody was already waiting for them.

"Marty, Susan, you remember Jerry Roberts, don't you? He was the gym teacher up at the school for the longest time."

"Of course, we do," Aunt Susan said, speaking for the both of them. In reality, only she had had Coach Roberts. Marty had gone to high school in Bay City and missed out. "Good to see you, Coach Roberts."

"Susan Huebner? Is that you?" Coach Roberts asked, his eyes opening wide. "You were, let's see, class of '84?"

"You got it," Aunt Susan replied, amazed that he remembered. "What a memory."

"I can't say I remember you all, but a few of you left an impression," he said, glancing over at Jake, who did his best to avoid eye contact in front of his family.

"Sit, sit," Cindy insisted, taking the plate of cookies from Coach Roberts, and they took their seats. "Let's say grace."

Cindy extended her hands to her sides and everyone else did the same. Jake enjoyed the feeling of Coach Roberts' rugged right hand as his mom said a short prayer. It wasn't right of him, but instead of listening and silently taking part in the giving of thanks, his mind turned toward lifting the hand to his mouth and delicately sucking one of his coach's fingers into his mouth.

By the time he let go, his cock was fully hard beneath the table.

"So, what have you been up to Jerry?" Cindy asked, as they all dug into the meal. "Jack says you were up playing Santa at McAllister's."

"Oh, yes, that's just one of those things I do to help the community. I keep myself pretty busy these days with projects around the house and volunteering. It seems I work harder in retirement than I ever did in school."

"Not me," Uncle Marty spat out. "When I retire, I'm letting someone else do the work."

"And who do you think that's going to be?" Aunt Susan countered, giving him the stink eye as she spooned a shovel's worth of mashed potatoes on her plate.

Jerry accepted a plate of ham from Jack and said, "Well, it's just me at the house, so while I'd like to get out and about more, someone has to do it. It's all right, though," he added. "I can always get some rest when I'm dead, isn't that right, Jake?"

Jake snapped out of his thoughts as he was drawn into the conversation. "Uh huh," he responded, looking over to see Coach Roberts giving him that smile.

"I like that," Jack said. "I'll rest when I'm dead. What a unique way of looking at things. If only all of us had that kind of work ethic."

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," Uncle Marty said, staring at his brother-in-law with a wry smile. "What's the fun in working yourself to death?"

"So, Coach Roberts, you never married?" Aunt Susan asked, cutting her husband off before he made a fool of himself.

"No. I can't say I ever found the right person for it."

"Jake is walking down that same road," Cindy stated matter-of-factly, looking at her son and nodding in agreement with her own statement. "At the rate he's going, he'll be lucky to find anyone."

"There's plenty of gals in Bay City," Uncle Marty offered. "I was just telling Jake he needs to take advantage of it."

Aunt Susan scowled at him.

"Not advantage of the women," he countered. "Of the situation." Then, to Jake, he said, "Always be respectful to those gals."

When Aunt Susan was no longer looking, Uncle Marty added an obscene gesture that only he could get away with.

It was a scene out of Jake's worst nightmare. The last place he ever wanted to be was at a table with his family while they all shared in a conversation about his love life . . . or lack thereof. Even if he had something to contribute—which he didn't—he couldn't imagine doing so, as they were so focused on him finding a lovely girl and settling down—or, in Uncle Marty's case, finding a wild one to show him a good time. None of them could possibly even fathom the idea that while they were all fantasizing about this girl that may or may not exist, Jake was sitting there fantasizing about the man sitting next to him.

He was the closest thing to perfect that Jake could imagine, and the furthest thing from what everyone else in his family could.

"For some of us, that's just where life takes us. But I think Jake will find the right person when the time is right," Coach Roberts said, nodding in Jake's direction. "Sometimes, these things find us when we least expect it.

He flashed Jake another smile and then took a bite of a large slice of ham.

* * * * *

Dinner came and went, followed by a plethora of desserts ranging from cherry pie, Aunt Susan's famous holiday fruitcake, and the cookies that Coach Roberts had brought.

"These cookies are to die for," Cindy said as they all made their way into the living room to open presents. "I haven't had molasses cookies like this since I was a kid."

"They were my mother's recipe," Coach Roberts said.

"Well, you'll have to send me it."

"Of course."

The plate of cookies was passed around for anyone still looking for some extra sweets. While they chewed, Jake stood at the tree and passed gifts out. Coach Roberts sat on the chair across the room and watched as Cindy received a hand knit shawl from Aunt Susan, and her husband received a puzzle. Jake's mom had given his dad a guidebook for a cruise they were taking in January, which was news to Jake, and his father gave her a new swimsuit for the beach in return.

Uncle Marty reached in his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, which he peeled a couple bills from and handed them to Jake. "Here . . . find a pretty one and show her a good time."

"Thanks," Jake uttered in reply as he took the cash.

Finally, once all the gifts had been handed out, Jack directed his son to one last package at the back of the tree. Jake crawled under and pulled it out. Holding it in his hands, he neatly undid the paper. Inside, was a board game: Parks.

"I hope it's not one you have already. I asked your sister, and she said you liked it."

Jake didn't know what to say. "I . . . I do. A lot. Thanks. You spoke to Lucy?"

"Just a quick text. She was at work, so she couldn't talk."

That sounded like Lucy. She had borne the brunt of their parents' fighting and had thus distanced herself from the two a little more than Jake had. The offer had been extended for her to return for Christmas as well, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

"Thanks," Jake said. "It's perfect."

Jack nodded at his son. "Maybe we can play it before you leave."

"Sounds great, Dad," Jake replied.

With the giving of the gifts finished, Uncle Marty and Aunt Susan made to leave. Coach Roberts offered to stay and help with dishes, but Jack insisted he could handle it. They all said their goodbyes, and Jack and Cindy disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving Jake and Jerry alone once more in the foyer.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Jerry asked him, pulling his coat over his shoulders.

"Which part?" Jake asked. "My Uncle Marty groping air breasts across the dinner table or my entire family trying to arrange a marriage for me to a girl who doesn't exist?"

Jerry laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, maybe it makes a little more sense why you've stayed away so long."

"Now you get it."

"Hey, it's what family is for."

At that, Cindy came rushing out of the kitchen. "Jerry, you almost forgot your cookies."

"Keep them," he replied.

"Are you sure?" She looked delighted.

"I certainly don't need them," he said, patting his stomach.

"Well, I won't say no to more of these cookies! Take care, Jerry."

He nodded. "Thanks for having me, Cindy."

Once she was gone, Jerry looked at Jake. "I guess it's time for me to go now."

Jake didn't want him to leave. Just having the man around had made Christmas with his family bearable. He didn't want it to be over. Then, he remembered. "Didn't you say there was a surprise?"

Suddenly remembering, his face lit up. "Oh, the photo. Not everything is as it seems. If you want your surprise, you're going to have to go back—back to high school."

He had no idea what that meant. "What's that got to do with the photo?"

Coach Roberts smiled. "Look back."

And with that, he turned and walked out the door.

Jake stood there in confusion for a moment, before rushing to his room and grabbing the photo off his dresser. "Look back," he said aloud. Staring at the image, he saw nothing but the two of them standing there. He turned the photo over and just saw the backing of the frame. Then, in the corner, he noticed the yellow corner of a piece of paper sticking slightly out from the edge of the frame. Undoing the notches, he pulled the back off and found a folded yellow paper. He unfolded it and read. It was a flyer for wrestling tryouts from Jake's freshman year of high school. The time was underlined: 8:00 pm.

Glancing at the clock, Jake noticed it was already 7:30. He grabbed his coat and rushed from the room.

"I'm going to Zach's," he called to his parents, and then slipped out the door.

* * * * *

When Jake arrived at Coach Roberts' house, he knocked but there was no response. He tried the door and found it opened. Walking inside, he looked around. The lights were off, save for one down the hallway above the kitchen sink. Continuing into the house, he called out. "Coach Roberts?"

"Down here," he heard from beneath him.

Jake turned back around and stepped into the hallway, where the door to the basement was cracked slightly. A light shone at the bottom of the steps. Slowly, Jake walked down the stairs until he reached the landing. He turned and gazed out into a rather large section of basement. On the floor in the middle of the room was a twelve-foot square wrestling mat. It was royal blue with one large white circle and a similar smaller circle in the center. Standing there, in the middle of it all, was Coach Roberts.

The tight red spandex of his wrestling singlet hugged the shape of his body, accentuating every curve from his pecs, down around his perfectly round belly, to the firm grasp it held on his package. The neckline ran a deep U—deeper even than the white, sleeveless tank he'd had on two nights before—allowing the man's thick, black-and-gray chest hair to pour out over the top. Where the singlet ended in the arms and legs, he could see coach's furry arms and legs, which still held way more muscle than Jake had noticed before. The man was strong—albeit a little chubby—and if it weren't for the goofy grin on his face, Jake might be a little intimidated. But, under the circumstances, seeing his old high school crush standing there, wearing the outfit Jake had fantasized him wearing for over a decade, he couldn't help but feel his blood boiling up inside him, rushing its way from the far reaches of his body and setting up shop in his groin.

"You figured it out," Coach Roberts said. "I hoped you would."

"What's this?" Jake said, stepping down the last few steps.

"It's your surprise. You said the other night that you had always wanted to try out for wrestling, so I thought I'd give you the chance." Jerry turned around and grabbed a brown bag from the side of the mat. As he bent over to grab it, Jake noticed the faint outlines of a jockstrap through the spandex. "There's a bathroom over there," he continued, handing Jake the package.

Jake took the brown bag and peeked inside. He couldn't see the whole thing, but he knew enough from the blue spandex he could see to know that it was a singlet of his own. He wasn't quite sure when Coach Roberts had had the chance to shop for such a thing, but he didn't much care either. Excitement boiled up inside him as he looked from the bag back to his former coach. Taking it all in again—the tight spandex, the curves, the hair, that smile—he almost forgot to breathe.

"Well . . ." Coach asked after Jake had stood there for a minute. "You going to try it on?"

Jake snapped out of his fantastical reverie and noticed he was hard. "Yes," he replied, lowering the bag down over himself, to which Coach Roberts only grinned wider, and then turned and made for the bathroom.

Pulling the blue spandex out of the bag, Jake let the garment unfold in front of him. It looked positively too small for him, but he supposed that may have been Coach Roberts' intent. He set the singlet on the sink and removed his clothes. As he slipped out of his briefs, his six-inch cock sprung to life.

Though he had nothing to be ashamed of—especially around a man he'd now had sexual relations with twice since returning home for Christmas—Jake couldn't help but let old feelings and anxieties rise to the surface. One of the reasons he had never gone through with his dream of trying out for the wrestling team was due to the fact that there was no way he could get away with wearing tight, revealing clothing without revealing a bit too much about himself in his nether regions. He had had no interest at all in his fellow classmates, but just the spandex alone, tugging gently at his cock, would've been enough to chub him up and make him the laughingstock of the whole school. There was nothing gayer to high school boys than getting a hard-on from contact with another boy. He would've been ridiculed till the end of his days, forever known as the one who got a boner during wrestling tryouts, whether they ever discovered his real secret or not.

He took a deep breath and thought about how Coach Roberts had always tried to help him with his anxieties. The man would be disappointed if Jake couldn't do this for him. So, after waiting a minute or two so that his dick could hopefully go down some—it didn't—he slipped on the royal blue singlet and returned to the wrestling mat.

Coach Roberts' smile grew wider still at seeing Jake in the outfit. The singlet wasn't cut as low as his own, but it was enough to show off Jake's pale winter flesh and the thin, brown hairs speckled across his chest. The rest clung tightly to Jake's torso and the little bit of padding he'd added to his midsection. Near the bottom, the distinct outline of his hard cock bulged through the lyrca.

"You look great," Coach Roberts told him.

"Not as good as you," Jake replied a bit bashfully.

"It's probably a good thing you never tried out for the team in earnest."

"Why's that?" Jake inquired.

Coach Roberts laughed before he even made the joke. "They don't allow weapons like that in the ring!"

Jake glanced down and saw his sword was on full display. He moved to cover himself, but Coach Roberts said, "Don't."

Jake rested his arms back at his side. "So how do we do this?"

"Well, you can start by coming over here. No need to be shy. This is a contact sport, so you're going to have to get used to being a little up close and personal."

"I've got no problem with that," Jake insisted, stepping closer to the coach.

"Prove it," he said, beckoning Jake closer still. If he didn't know from having taught the young man for four years, he certainly could tell now that Jake had very little athletic ability. Even just walking in the confines of the spandex made him look awkward and clumsy. Coach Roberts sturdied himself by planting one foot firmly in front of the other, then hunched down as if ready to strike. "Now, give yourself a firm footing and assume the position."

Jake did as he was told, the excitement of finally wrestling the old man coupled with the nerves of getting walloped waging their own battle in his mind. Would it hurt? he wondered, thinking about being slammed to the mat. Or would it be erotic?

Coach Roberts extended a hand. Jake did the same, and they met in the middle. "I'm going to go easy on you at first, show you the ropes."

"Okay," Jake replied weakly. Coach's body was much more intimidating up close.

"Are you ready?"

Jake nodded.

Coach Roberts stepped forward and in one swift motion grabbed Jake's wrist, twisted, stepped around his backside, and pinned the arm between his back and the old man's belly.

"Is that the best you've got?" Coach Roberts asked in his ear.

"You didn't even give me a chance," moaned Jake.

"This is a tryout. You're supposed to show me what you've got. Again." He let go of Jake's arm and circled back around to the front, assuming his starting position once more. "I'm going to come at you like last time. Try and prevent me from pinning you again."

This time, as Coach Roberts stepped forward, Jake stepped to meet him. Still unsure of what he was doing, he met the coach's arms and furiously tried to get a hold on them. He got ahold of the right one, but the old man managed to grab his right, as well; his left went around Jake's neck and pulled him in tightly. Jake's head burrowed into Coach Roberts' shoulder, and the weight of the two men pressed against each other with such force that neither fell into the trap Jake had last time.

But Jake knew he was no match for Coach Roberts. Even if he had the weight to match—which he didn't—he certainly didn't have the strength. He could feel himself struggling against the force of the old man and, just as he pushed his hardest, Coach let up, causing Jake to fall forward. With a grace that was quite unexpected from the old man, he spun around Jake's falling body, wrapping his arms around it, and fell with it. As they hit the mat, the weight of Jerry's body fell atop Jake's, and he felt the girth of the belly slam against his back; a round bulge pressed squarely against his ass, as well.