The Centaur Coach Ch. 03

'I'm scared, Coach. It's...'

'--it's okay, Greyson. It's about time we started doing this, given our clear compatibility.' He chuckles warmly. 'Open wide and begin by sucking on the tip. Get used to the feeling of it, my flavours, and make sure to use your tongue to get acquainted to my shape.'

It's wrong, but...I lean in. Lean in, until my lips are a mere inch from the leaking glans that tips his tremendous equid penis. The centaur's erection pulses against my palms, and I curl my fingers around the thickness of his shaft. I want this, don't I? I'm salivating, I'm licking my lips.

'What if I hate it?'

'Then we'll know, won't we?'

'And I can stop, then? Just like that?'

Coach Kyln makes a little noise, and trots a hoof. 'Greyson, you have the wrong idea about this. This isn't something I do to you, but something you do to me.' He shifts slightly, the penis moving against my hands, those gigantic testicles wobbling beneath its base. 'You do the work here. You pick your pace, you do as much or as little as your sissy heart desires.' His tone has a satisfaction to it, a confident warmth. 'That's what makes this act so special. That's why they call it service.'

When he says the word, I draw in a little breath. His glans throbs, his cock aches against my palms and fingers, and some more of that glistening penile drool leaks out of the little cum-vein aperture. I slowly lick my lips, wetting them, preparing for...for what I'm about to do. It's mad, it's crazy, it's fucking gay, but...

...but I lean closer, and keep licking my lips. Closer, until the heat of his engorged glans warms the moist skin of my mouth. I'm about to do it, Jesus Christ. I'm on my knees beneath Coach Kyln, beneath this much older man -- this centaur -- and I'm about to put his inhuman penis inside my mouth. I'm about to service him.

The thought makes my cock ache. Makes my head spin. Makes the world strange.

'Kyln,' I say. 'Coach.'

'Yeah, Greyson?'

'Don't tell anyone. Please.'

He chuckles. 'I won't, sissy. But in return, I want you to do something for me.'

I shiver at his tone. 'Something beyond what I'm about to do?'

'I want you to beg, Greyson,' Coach Kyln says. 'I want you to beg, for the honour of servicing a true alpha-male such as myself.' The Coach's tail flicks, side to side, with excitement. 'Can you do that, boy? Can you beg?'

The tone, again, promotes a shiver. The hairs on my neck rise. 'Beg?'

'Tell me how badly you want to taste me, Greyson. Tell me how honoured you feel, to have the luxury of servicing a stallion like myself. Tell me how lucky you feel to have such a teacher as myself, to introduce you to the world of appeasing real men through the efforts of that sissy virgin mouth.'

I tremble a little, my cock aching. I'm not gay, I remind myself, but I'm incredibly aroused by this entire situation. I'm staring at Coach Kyln's equine erection, his huge shaft that sits currently against my hands, its flared glans glazed and gooey, staring back at me. A bestial, powerful, manly tool. Glossy, slick brown skin, the shaft itself veiny and with patches of creamier flesh. The glans itself ringed in thick tissue at the edges, bulging out with a vertical cleft and an obvious urethral protrusion, drooling constantly.

'P-lease let me s-uck your cock, Coach,' I say, trembling, my mouth wet. 'I want to taste it s-o badly. I want to taste a r-eal man, a real stallion. It'd be s-uch an honour to service you, C-oach. I'm s-o lucky to have a s-tallion like you teach my sissy virgin mouth to service real m-anly cock.'

The centaur coach laughs, raucous, pleased with it all. It makes me feel smaller, makes me feel pathetic, and I blush to recall the words I just uttered. The admittance, honest despite my reservations, that I have my own role in this sordidness. That I, too, am fetishizing this carnal act between an old virile stallion centaur and a young virginal human boy.

'You really are a little sissy bitch, aren't you, Greyson?' Kyln says, and laughs again. 'Shit, I've wanted my own pet human cocksucker since I got here. All the better that it's you.' He adjusts slightly, cock slipping forwards in my grip, towards me. With incredible control, hinting at the true power here, the Coach halts his glistening glans a hair's breadth from my lips. 'Kiss me, Greyson. Kiss me as though you're kissing Jen. Kiss me in the one place that matters the most, you slutty sissy beta.'

It's hard to picture Jen's mouth being the bestial flared glans of the centaur's cock, but I can only try. I've come this far. As wrong as this is, as new to me and foreign as it is...I want to be mounted again. To go forever without experiencing that most vulgarly submissive of pleasures would be a tragedy.

The bestial tip is hot and wild in the way it throbs. It surprises me with the softness of it, the silky texture weirdly pleasant. It's larger than Jen's mouth, but if anything that makes it easier to kiss. The smooch I give is at first tentative, then protracted. My lips meet the centaur's cock and for a moment we're kissing, but not in any romantic manner.

His flare glazes my lips with a thick smear of precum, which I slowly taste. Like a jolt of electricity down the spine, the flavour wakes me up. Salty, tangy, earthy, just like before. An animalistic, bestial, undeniably pleasant taste. I go in for a second approach.

'That's it, sissy. Kiss a better man's dick.'

His words slide off me, a dirty madness now heavy on my thoughts. What begins with mere lips against shaft transforms into something lustier, a passion that has me tilt my head this way and that as I engage my lips upon his glans, soaking my mouth in copious amounts of centaur precum.

If it were Jen's mouth, I'd be tongue-kissing her. A dirty notion, a righteously carnal one.

A slipping-out of the tongue gives me a big mouthful of his powerful flavours, a dirtiness creeping in to join the taste of his dick juice, wholly logical given that this is a penis, and not some bodiless strange lollipop.

'Schlup. Slurp.'

The crude noises that come from my mouth, from the unity of the equid cock and my lips, shame me like nothing else. Yet I don't stop. I keep going, shifting my lips about his swollen flare and dirtying my face as his powerful body produces a continual drool of musky oiliness that paints my lips and drools down my chin.

I stretch my lips a little more, then a little further, while bathing his glans with tongue movements. God, it's so wrong, so dirty, but Coach Kyln tastes so good. Good beyond he should be, good beyond him having any right to be. Pretend it's Jen, pretend it's Jen...and then I'm snogging his helmet, trying to suckle on it, ultimately sliding my lips so far and wide that the filthy submissive act commences in truth.

'There we go,' Kyln says. 'That a boy. Ughn.'

His glans is so thick and fat it strains my mouth. I take him up with both hands and begin to stroke and tug on his length while tending to the tip with my kisser, sucking in my cheeks on instinct around the dangerously hot, incredibly pleasant bulk that pushes down my tongue and stretches my lips.

'Mhm. Schlup.'

I ignore my own sounds. Ignore the dirty submissiveness that is so fitting for me now, comes so naturally. Kyln glazes my tongue with endless amounts of filthy centaur precum and I tug and nurse and suckle on him, wanking his lengthy lance while tracing out the contours of his interestingly-shaped helmet.

Coach Kyln stomps a hoof, swishes his tail. From this angle, eyes wide open, above me is his barrel-like underside and ahead I can follow the cream-white and chocolate brown of his shaft along to its origins in that thick-ringed brown sheath, and beyond it those pendulous horse bollocks that sag in that leathery brown sack swing faintly.

'Ughn. Good sissy. Bob for those apples.'

Something is mesmerising about this whole ordeal. The way his balls wobble and shudder, the heat and taste and feeling of his dick in my mouth, the sheer throbbing power of his shaft in my hands, all come together to force an undesired truth upon me.

I...I like sucking Kyln's dick. I hate that I do, I don't want to, but it doesn't change the truth.

'Slurp. Mhm. Mumph.'

God, it feels so right in my mouth. I was worried, dreaded it, but the salty earthy tang of his precum and the way it dominates everything, how readily it slides about, how powerful its presence and how pleasant its textures...I can't hate this.

I'm losing control. Losing my focus. So aware that I can give myself to this act, to really service the old stallion, at the drop of a hat. Because every time Coach Kyln groans or exhales sharply, every time that tail swishes or a hoof comes down with a clack, I feel this weird pang of excitement that I'm pleasing him so.

But I need to relent. This is just to get him ready. Just to make sure that he can fuck me how I like to be fucked. Nothing more. But...nothing less, either.

'Forget girls, Greyson,' Kyln says. 'Forget the world outside of this room. Ughn.' He claps down a hoof, swings his tail. 'Do what--ugh--you were put on this world to do, sissy. Service me, like the little slut you are. Service daddy, like a good--ughn--boy.'

I maintain my cool, keep the gentle bobbing, keep stroking and sucking. 'Mumph. Schlup.'

'That cock you're sucking on,' he says, 'is the same one that--ugh--claimed you the other day. Doesn't it deserve--ughn--worship, slut? Doesn't it need it?' Kyln groans, grumbles. 'Feel how it pulses, Greyson. Feel what it wants. What I want. What you should--ugh--want, as well.'

No. I can't. I need to remember the point of this. I just need to--

The way it throbs, the way it pulses, makes my head spin. I overextend and it brushes the opening of my throat, tickling my spine, making me arch my back. My cock aches, twitches. The Coach has needs, and I can satisfy them. His cock, this perfect bestial cock that so thoroughly blew my mind, desperately needs release. I can feel it, honest and true, with every spurt of tasty precum and every throb in my hands and between my lips and against my tongue.

If...if I keep going, this won't end the way I want. If I keep going, Coach Kyln isn't going to fuck me today. I know that much.

'Would it be so wrong, slut? To play mare for me, to treat me with some respect?' He swishes his tail. 'Forget what you wanted. Think about what I want. That's what matters, Greyson. You know it.'

In some perverse way...he's right. And every time he moans, every time he shows pleasure, I feel weirdly satisfied, weirdly proud.

'Ughn. Give me a blowjob, Greyson. Relieve me. Relieve the man who claimed you. You know it's what we both deserve. You know how this has to end.'

Nobody is going to know. Whether Kyln fucks me or I keep sucking, nobody will know. I'll know, and he'll know, but when I look upon his underside and the sheer length of his shaft and the heavy sway of those immense testes I'm struck by a dirty, filthy thought.

Marcus loved it. Marcus saw it through.

I...do want to be like Marcus, don't I? I wanted Jen, but...

...I've got Kyln.

'That's it, sissy,' Kyln says. He grunts, clacks a hoof. 'Forget it all. Forget the world. All that matters is tending to my needs.'

I shut my eyes and push away my restraint, resulting in a quickening of the pace, a more frantic bobbing of my head. His glans pokes against my throat and there's no gagging, despite the size of his penis. Maybe it's the precum, maybe it numbs or otherwise stretches, but I know what I need to do. I know how this must go.

'Glugp. Glugp. Glugp.'

My throat produces the most vulgar of sounds as Coach Kyln slides into it, creating an incredible sensation of heat and firmness that spreads down my neck. 'Glugp. Glugp. Glugp.' The sound is filthy, echoing in the relative quiet of the shower, and the centaur grunts and shudders. 'Glugp. Glugp. Glugp.'

His heat lances down my gullet, warming my chest from within. I'm starting to deepthroat the centaur stallion, actually taking so very much of his sizeable equid length into my body in a way I never imagined I would. The raw warmth of his presence, sheathed as it is inside of me, makes my cock ache and my mind race.

'That's it, bitch. That's--ugh--how this should be.'

'Glugp. Glugp. Mhm. Glugp.'

I'm really going for it. I'm dimly aware of how lurid this is, how perverse this act happens to be. I'm giving Kyln a proper blowjob, bobbing my head up and down his immense length, slobbering over it and making it slick with throat juices, all the while he coats my mouth and gullet with his constant drool of bestial precum.

It's impossible not to lose myself in this. The raw stink of his animalistic body, the sheer forceful character of his centaur cock, the dirty tastiness of his virile manhood. Much as I shouldn't, I'm so content to be used like this, to use myself like this, to worship Coach Kyln in this most sordid of ways.

And...and why shouldn't I? Kyln is many things, but he's undeniably a powerful male of his species, of any species. There must be women out there, and gay men besides, who would kill for a shot of doing what I'm doing.

But Kyln chose me. Kyln is letting me do this, not them.

I slide back from his manhood, releasing it but not retreating from it. Like a love-addled teen with his first real girlfriend I start to snog his interesting equid helmet, smooching it with rabid abandon, making crude wet noises that echo through the shower disturbed only by the centaur's own grunts and vaguely laboured breaths.

'I've not felt so appreciated in a long time,' the Coach says. He chuckles. 'That slutty little sissy in you just couldn't wait to escape, could he?'

I shiver, kiss, and shake my head, as if Kyln is watching. 'No. I can't help it now. I...your body is amazing, daddy.'

It doesn't even feel so weird, to say it. God, I'm losing it. I'm in a filth spiral.

Kyln groans, clops a hoof on the tiles, as I stick my tongue into the contours of his horse-flare. 'Tell me, Greyson. Ughn. Have you ever done this before?'

I pause, a sticky strand of all sorts of juices connecting my mouth with his impressive glans. 'No, Coach. You know that.'

His tail flicks. Pleased? Excited? 'It's a rare honour, in my people, to be serviced by a virgin mouth. With what you've done for me here, today, you've dirtied yourself with my manhood. Nobody else will get that same honour.'

Hearing him say such a thing makes me tremble, as if made all the filthier by the mere sound of his deep masculine voice. And yet, head spinning as it is, madly lustful as I am, I'm struck with a crude thought.

A thought that I speak aloud.

'I'm glad...glad it's you.'

Coach Kyln exhales sharply, but there's no humour. 'Do you mean that, Greyson?'

I do, don't I? God, I do. 'Yes...daddy.'

'I want to lay claim to your mouth, Greyson. But I need you to want that, as well. Because this, too, is an honour nobody else will receive.'

'Meaning what?'

He swishes his tail, shudders, and brushes a hoof against the tile. 'You know how this ends, sissy. You know how male bodies work. You know I am the superior specimen here, the true male between the two of us. You know just how to prove it.'

He can't mean...but my body seems to know better than my eyes do. I look past his engorged inhuman phallus, so slick with spit and throat glaze and precum, to the hefty sag of that quartet of gigantic testicles.

Kyln is a better man, and...he wants me to prove it. He wants me to want the most emasculating, filthiest, most perverse degradation of the self I can picture.

'You want me to...you want to cum in my mouth,' I say.

The Coach's tail swishes. 'If you really believe all you've said, Greyson, you'll let it happen. You'll let me fill your slutty little belly with my pride. I'll never forget who you truly are, and you'll never forget my true taste.'

'I'll...there's too much. I can't. I'd--'

'It comes in spurts,' Kyln says. 'A mouthful at a time, plenty of time between shots. I rarely finish climaxing in less than fifteen minutes, so you'll be down there a long while, but you can handle it. A slutty boy like you was built for this. You know I'm right.'

There's this part of me screaming, crying out, knowing how wrong this is. Kyln is so much older, Kyln isn't human, Kyln is a man. And I'm not gay, I have to remind myself, as if it matters this far into it all.

But...when I sniff, when I lick my lips, when I watch the muted sway of those heavy bollocks...I'm struck by another thought.

What if he's right? And what if, just like Marcus, I can't help but guzzle down his seed?

'You promise?'

The Coach sniggers. 'Greyson, the last thing I want is for this to be a one-time thing,' he says. 'Yes, I promise. Will you let me claim your mouth?'

I firm up my grip on his dick. 'Y-es, daddy. F-eed me.'

Coach Kyln lets out a low feral grunt as I wrap my lips around his flare. The old centaur stud clatters the tiles, trembles. 'Just what I needed to hear, sissy. Ughn. Milk me, slut. Pull out those superior swimmers.'

'Mumph. Mhm. Schlup.'

It's wrong, I know. It's something I shouldn't be doing, I know.

But I'm here now. I'm starving with lust, hungry for something carnal and primal. I want this older, stronger, virile stallion of a man to be the first -- and likely last, given how spoiled I'll be -- man to grace my tongue with the thick gravy of his loins.

I'm sucking and slurping on Kyln with reckless abandon, pushing away all doubts and worries, embracing the raw facts of the situation. That I adore how he feels in my mouth, so powerful and primal. That I love his flavour, so salty and earthy and tangy. That I want to taste him, taste him in the most intimate of ways, and fill my belly with his pride.

'Mumph. Slurp.'

'Ughn. Go on, sissy. Milk daddy. Ugh. Just like that.'

'Schlup. Mhm.'

'Ugh, yeah. Filthy slut. Fucking cocksucker.'

'Mumph. Schlup.'

It's the little details the scare me, make me shiver in excitement. The faint widening of his gait towards the rear, the way those bloated nuts seem to pulsate, the manner in which his phallus throbs and produces ever-greater quantities of his delicious lubricating pre-seed.

His flared glans is pretty much square on the centre of my tongue, straining with need, feeling quite ready to pop. The precum leaking from that little opening, a faint protrusion of his cum-vein, is thicker in its flavour now. A prelude to what is boiling up in those immense testes which swing behind the base of Kyln's monstrous equid shaft.

This...this isn't just about making him cum. It's not just about him loading my mouth.

I slide my head backwards a little, ensuring that all but the swollen prominence beyond the band of dense tissue is outside of my lips. Only the bit that can solely be called Kyln's glans, the upper bulge and the under pit, and the seed-spitting opening, are left within the grasp of my suck-hole.

The Coach chuckles warmly, lustily. 'Thought so, sissy. You're a natural. A good boy.'

I'm...I'm filthy. When he ejaculates, I'll have to get used to the taste, because it's going to cover every inch of my tongue. No load straight down the throat, no swallowing just at the back. Those billions upon billions of centaur sperm, fat-tailed white virile things, are going to spill out all across my tastebuds and I'm going to learn, once and for all, forever etched into my brain, the male taste of Coach Kyln's genes.

'Mhm. Slurp.'

I sit back on my haunches, getting comfortable, and the equine cock angles downwards with my mouth. Kyln groans, low and needy, and I feel the vibration of his pent-up lusts where his cock strains against my hands and where it throbs between my lips. I stroke faster, firmer, and lather his flare in quick tongue movements.