Some "Meat" after the Meet

Blake's senior year was a "gateway" to many different things.....

Running track was a passion I had from when I was six years old. My momma signed me up for a runners club, to keep me from getting sucked in to the streets of Philly, and I literally took off. I kept at it from day one, but not realizing how serious it could be when one day during a middle school intramural meet, I ran the 100 and 200 relays, dusting everyone on the track, including school team members, and catching the attention of high school coaches. Five years later when it was all said and done, I was a highly decorated runner within the state of Pennsylvania, earning multiple titles during both indoor and outdoor seasons, and causing talk of me becoming an Olympic sprinter one day. Colleges sent piles of mail, and I endured all the hoopla, but I ultimately wanted one thing as my passion shifted: to move out of the Philadelphia projects, and become a veterinarian.

"Blake, you can examine dogs and cats anytime, but your future rests on this track," said my college coach at the time, when I came on campus.

I was running for a small school in North Carolina as it poured money into the newly revived program, and I showed promise during my freshman year, winning a few races and qualifying for the NCAA finals. I noticed more and more however that I was shying away from my major, as track at the school turned into a cash cow with the team's successes. This was at a time where a lot of the other athletes were counting on their physical attributes to "make it," but I knew my cash flow would be in what I truly loved at this time: studying animals.

Sophomore year, I took a break and focused more on school, as I pushed myself enough to where I was ahead in credits, and carried a 4.0 grade point average. Junior year I ran sparingly, as new, faster recruits and transfers came aboard, and supplanted me when I wasn't at my best. The summer of my senior year, the head coach was fired, along with all the staff, and out came Coach Sim, a former gold medalist for Jamaica in the Olympics, and one who I immediately hit it off with.

"Blake, ye run sometimes like eh stick up ye ass, mon. Loosen up a little on your stride. You don't have to pound the pavement so hard. Let the momentum flow gracefully," he said to me one day during practice.

Though I wasn't counting on the Olympics (I was already set for grad school in pursuit of my veterinarian goals), Sim had me wanting to be competitive again. The last coach and his staff didn't gel with me, and caused me to focus more on my studies as they seemed to play favorites. Sim, who at 51 still looked as if he could suit up and dust all of us, had an even playing field from the jump, promising shine to anyone who put in the work, and kept their grades tight.

"You remind me of me when I was 20, Blake," Sim told me one day after practice. "I see the work you put into your body, the way your mind works. You're an even keel kid, and if I have my way dude, you will still have a crack at the Olympics, mon."

The first meet came in the spring, and I crushed the competition in the 100, 200, and 400 relays, for Sim pushed me to where I was running full time again. I could afford to train more, as I'd pretty much finished my degree in the fall, and found myself working out more and feeling more confident. One meet however, the Penn Relays, which was held in my hometown, came to be a huge turning point in my life, as events happened during and after the meet, that changed me forever.

"Blake, you got the 100 and 200, while Perez is doing the 400," Sim told me the night before the beginning for the world renown event.

I would be running against some of the world's best competition that happened to be college students like me. I was ready, for Sim trained with us prior to the big event in Philly, tuning us up by making us run different events during meets leading up to, and holding harder practices to get us focused. I, being only five foot seven, didn't look to have a chance against these "world class sprinters," for they were taller, more defined, and had bigger names and better competition on the regular, even in their own programs. I won the heats for both events, and suddenly "the underdog" caught all the attention.

"You don't stand a chance dude. You got your little fame for winning your heats, but this is for he big boys," said one runner from Texas, as we were in our stances for the 100 final.

"Perry," which was his last name, was considered a Olympic gold medalist hopeful, and was already rumored to earn endorsement money from the likes of Nike and Ralph Lauren. The gun sounded and I led from start to finish, setting a school record, in addition to beating the nearest runner by almost two seconds (it wasn't Perry, as he finished fourth). I would place second in the 200, but only with a quarter inch between me and the winner. The team was ecstatic, and of course my family were in the stands going ballistic, as I managed to "get the juice," getting interviewed by ESPN afterwards to signify me being the "newest sensation." I could only attest my successes to being pushed by Sim.

"My friend, you earned it. As I mentioned, you should be running in the Olympics, too. I would maybe pause on grad school, and see if you could win a few medals, and some cash from endorsements. You have the talent!"

Sim gave me my confidence back to where I was contemplating a future outside of science. After the events, several of my teammates and other athletes from other schools hung out briefly, then I spent some time with family before I had to return to my hotel, for we had a midnight curfew in order to prep for our 9 a.m. departure for Raleigh from Philly International. I'd come into the lobby of the hotel to find Sim sitting down, playing with his phone and waiting on me.

"You're the last one, so I had to make sure you didn't miss my curfew," he said, as it was 11:47 p.m.

We sat and talked in the lobby as things were quiet in the concourse, with no one at the front desk. Sim I could tell had maybe a celebratory drink or two, for he seemed a little more solemn than his usual self. His tone was deeper, and when we talked, it was almost in an intimate tone, as his conversation transitioned from track, to life.

"Olympics or not dude, I must say, young, black man, I am proud of you," he said. "And by the way, if no one told you, you really got it going on."

He saying that gave me the jitters, for no one, outside of my mother, told me that they were proud of me, then gave a compliment in such a manner.

"Blake, you got a girl," he asked.

I didn't answer, as I'm bi and didn't divulge too much of my private life with anyone associated with the team.

"Do you have a boyfriend," he asked.

I looked down, and he snickered.

"It's okay if you do, by the way. No judgment here. I'd like to reaffirm that you really do have it going on, and if you ever need anything from me kid, let me know," he said.

At that moment, I got up, and so did he, as we shook hands and retreated to the elevator and our rooms. I went and took a shower, thinking about what transpired just a short time prior when we were sitting in the lobby. Sim I could admit was hot, as at 51, he was in the best of shape, and still had his hairline and all his teeth. Whenever he ran with us I drank in all the detail, for he moved fluidly, and if you looked closer, you'd see his package bouncing gracefully. Sim had it going on, and here I was, past midnight thinking of what I could do to him, or he do to me. Then, there was a knock on my door.

"Hey uh, listen," I said, as I opened the door to be greeted by Sim.

He stepped across the door sill with his six foot one frame, and reached at me to kiss me, his long hands wrapped around my waist as he caught me in nothing but my underwear. He pushed the door shut as his tongue whisked around in mouth, his assertiveness on display as no one, male or female, kissed me like he did. We made it over to the bed, with the both of us laying on it as we wouldn't miss a beat in making out, with him now hovering over me, with his body pressed against mine, and my legs open to receive his lower body.

"Coach, I want you," I whispered to him.

"And I want you. I want to reward my best sprinters. You've been kicking ass out there on the rubber, and looking damn good doing it."

I felt his hands tugging at my boxers, so I raised my hips to allow him to pull them down completely, pushing them up to my feet as I kicked them across the room. He pushed my legs back and placed his tongue inside me, the long device penetrating my tunnel and polishing my pink walls while his mustache tickled my taint.

"Simmmmmm," I sobbed.

I didn't halfway expect this to happen when I first met him, but with the chemistry we forged, it wasn't too far fetched we came to this point. The tip of his tongue had me wiggling left to right, as he hit every inch of diameter inside. He'd then pull his face from between my legs, and replace his tongue with his right pointer and middle fingers, getting my hole all sloshed as he rubbed my gland, commencing a "milk session."

"Aye mon, see how whet ye get," he said. "You want coach to fuck ye, don't you?"

"Oh God Sim, please fuck me," I begged.

"No, no, whet ye want is me big, fat stick on your tongue, while I eat ye pussy," he said.

His aggressiveness and Jamaican accent combined with the way he fingered me just took me over the top. He had me begging that he'd slide that snake inside my ass, as now I was holding my own legs in the air, inviting him into my pulsating pussy. He'd come out of his clothes, then positioned himself in a "chimney stack" position over me, as we commenced a '69.' Sim had the biggest cock to ever come across my lips, for he might've been 11 inches strong, stiff as the pavement. I didn't need to do a thing but apply pressure with my lips and lay back, for he skillfully fucked my face as if he was in my ass already, with his dick hitting the back of my throat precisely, while that tongue swiped away at my readied hole.

"You want coach to fuck you good," he asked.

I whined "yes," and he'd get up, but do something I'd never experienced: he fucked me backwards.

"Keep ye legs up, darlin'," he said.

He stood over me on the mattress, then lowered himself and his missile like cock after drenching it in lube, placing his meat stick inside of me with one motion. His fat, veiny, jet black rod slipped right inside, as I looked down and saw his back turned towards me, and me getting a good glimpse of his muscular ass, and balls slapping away at my balls as his cock was splitting me in a different manner. He held on to my feet, and I was vulnerable as I could only just lay back and take the assault his cock head provided to my prostate. Sim's flexibility blew my mind, and I could only grasp the pillow, hooting and hollering as that dick of his felt amazing inside of me.

"Yeah baby," he whimpered. "You like coach's cock?"

"I love it coach," I whimpered.

He bounced himself up and down, that dick of his hitting the exact target and making the orgasms come rapid fire. I might've cum from my ass four times within the first 10 minutes, with my dick soft from the plowing I was receiving. He continued to plow me, giving it to me harder and my ass just burping from the pressure with my juices leaking down to the sheets off my body. I didn't want it to end, for no one else pumped me in this fashion.

"Clean it off for me, baby," he said, as he pulled it out of me, then moved over to where he put it in my face.

I was sucking my own "juices" off his dick, the almost foot long beef stick still hard after creating a gash. He grabbed the back of my head and rammed that dick in my throat, then grunted and shook, as I felt hot sprinkles of his cum littering the back of my tongue. I gagged, for I wasn't used to swallowing such a huge amount of cum.

"Eat it up, bitch," he said. "Don't you waste one drop."

I wouldn't instead coughing as I took in his seed, trying my best not to disappoint coach. When he finished, he pulled his dick away, and I put my legs down, trying to figure out did I really get my soul snatched in this encounter.

"Just remember, this will be our own little secret," he said, as he rolled off the bed, and got dressed, then rushed off to his own room.

I'd fall asleep and awake to the scent of sex in the sheets, and slightly disoriented, as Sim had that effect on me. This, would be the beginning of relations with men only, as Sim reaffirmed that no woman could please me, like a man.