The Legendary Coach Brooks Ch. 02

The next day was Sunday, and I was due to be at Coach Brooks' house at 7pm. I showed up at 6:55pm. I knocked on the door which was soon opened by Coach Brooks. He wore a pair of loose fitting gym shorts and a gray shirt that looked like it had seen many days in the sun. The sunlight pouring in from the open door accentuated his tan leather skin. He greeted me with a smile.

"Coach Henderson," he used this title mockingly, "come on in. How's my favorite little rival doing?" He closed the door and pulled me into a half side hug, half head lock. The end of a whistle swung and hit me on top of the head. I saw the blue string it was attached to and recognized it as my own whistle. Or, at least, it used to be mine. He had taken it from me last week at Tyler's house when he had insulted my manhood and made it clear I was not worthy enough to blow on one like a real coach.

"I'm good, Coach." He released me from the half headlock.

"West Plains, huh? By three touchdowns? Hell, son, I knew I fucked you hard last week, but I didn't think I fucked you that hard. How do you lose to a one win team with the squad you've got?"

I was humiliated by this line of questioning.I tried to stare down at the floor, but Coach Brooks lifted my chin and made me look him in the eye.

"I don't know, Sir. We didn't have a good night. I don't know what happened."

Coach Brooks stepped closer to me. I could smell his breath as he breathed down on me.

"Yes, you do. You know what happened. Daddy chopped you down to size last week. Daddy showed you, you're an imposter. Daddy showed you, you have as much talent for coaching football as you do cock between your legs." He grabbed my crotch, squeezing it in his hand. "And that ain't much, is it, boy?"

"No, Coach. It's not."

He held my junk for a few more seconds. Then, he took my hand and placed it under his sack and lifted it up, so I was holding all of its weight. Looking down seeing the great contrast in size made me feel like even less of a man than I already did. I physically felt my penis shrink.

"But at least you get to come over here and see what a real man looks like."

"Yes Coach. Yes Daddy."

"Daddy is good to his bitch boi, isn't he?"

"Yes Daddy."

"Is that what you are, son? A bitch boi?"

"Yes Daddy."

"Say it! Say, 'Yes Coach, I'm a bitch boi.'"

"Yes Coach, I'm a bitch boi."

He stayed silent and let these words hang in the air. He let go of my little beanbag and grabbed a fistful of my shirt. He pulled me closer to him. He was standing over me reading the emblem of my hat (that I had been instructed to wear). I looked up at him while I held his massive manhood in my hand. I could read a look of disdain on his face as he stared at the yellow "R" on top of my blue hat. I was scared. What was he going to do next?

But then, he released his grip on my shirt and shoved me backwards.

"Alright bitch boi, strip. Keep the jock and hat on and then follow Coach to his study."

I flattened my shirt out first trying to get the wrinkles out of it. Coach had stretched the collar out with that violent tug. 'Oh well,' I thought. The loosened collar would be a good reminder for me. No doubt every time I put it on I would think about this moment and develop a small stiffy. I took off my clothes and left them by the door. I followed Coach through the living room, down a hallway, and into his study. It was a large room with marker boards on three of the four walls, a large bookshelf filled with all kinds of books from coaching strategies to historical non-fiction. Team pictures of state championship teams covered one wall as well as framed articles about his many accomplishments from various newspapers. Hung among these were a few photos of himself with some big name college and NFL coaches. He sat down at a large desk which had a projector on one side and a computer in the middle. He sat down in a leather rolling chair behind the desk and clicked a few buttons on the computer. I waited patiently by the side with my hands behind my back. I felt silly waiting like this being practically naked while he was fully clothed. When he was ready, he scooted back a bit in his chair creating room between him and the desk.

"Coach Henderson, on your knees." He motioned to the space between his legs. "You can study film down there."

I dropped to my knees and crawled into the space he had indicated.

"All the way under. There you go. That's my bitch boi. You fit perfectly underneath Daddy's desk."

He scooted back into position. His crotch was inches from my face. I waited for instructions as he made a few more clicks of the mouse, probably pulling up my game film from last Friday night.

"Boy, what are you waiting for? I didn't bring you over here to sniff my crotch all night. Take off Daddy's pants and get to work."

I scrambled to get Coach Brooks' pants open. I parted the fly and saw the lovely sight I first looked upon last week - a hefty bulge with a big monster cockhead poking from the fabric of his tighty whities. I kissed his huge cockhead, a gesture that forced an audible smirk from the legendary man, and then with his assistance in lifting up from his seat, I pulled down his drawers so he was free as a bird. He grabbed the bill of my hat and turned it around, so it faced backwards. I moved to take the six inch soft cock into my mouth but received a light slap on the top of the head.

"Slow down, boy. Lick my balls, first."

I lathered them up, alternating side to side between each testicle. I had to. My tongue was only wide enough for one at a time.

"That's it, coacher. Get them nice and wet."

After a minute of bathing his balls Coach Brooks took off my blue whistle from around his neck. He brought it down to his crotch and extended it towards my lips. I took the gesture as a sign to open up. I lunged at the whistle but before I could close my lips around it he pulled it away.

"No, boy. Don't you remember? This isn't for you anymore. Now this..." he grabbed the tip of his cock and put it inches from my mouth, "this is what you blow on!"

I lunged forward again. This time I was not denied. My lips wrapped wide around his fat daddy dick, and I sucked on the tip like a baby on a pacifier. I spread my legs wider and sat back on my heels to where my ass almost reached the floor. I arched my back in order to achieve the proper angle necessary to look up at Coach Brooks as I performed this ritual service. My eyes were glassy, wide open, curious, while his were narrowed and resolute. We held this gaze as I bobbed up and down on his dick, dutifully.

A weird thing happens when you look a man in the eye while you suck his dick. It's one thing to debase yourself and get on your knees for another man. But to look up at him as you do so - to have him smile down and laugh at you, mock you, and you respond with no resistance, no fight, there is no greater submission. Coach Brooks relished in my humiliation, and so did I. Truly, I was a bitch boi.

Eventually, Coach Brooks turned his attention to his computer screen. I could see from the reflection in his reading glasses that he was watching the game film. He had me alternate between licking his balls and sucking his dick, while he critiqued the game.

"3rd and 1 and you throw a deep pass. There's not even any play action in this play. Fuck Tim, I taught you better than that. What were you thinking?"

He looked down at me and waited for an answer. I popped off his dick and tried to explain.

"My quarterback changed the play. I called a dive play."

"Your quarterback changed the play? It doesn't look like it here. You're in a spread formation."

"I swear Coach. That's not the play I called."

"There's not even a running back in the backfield. You should have known it was changed then. Why didn't you call timeout?"

"I don't know, Sir."

He shook his head in disgust and returned his gaze to the screen.

"You don't know? Fucking ridiculous. What did you do when the kid came over to the sideline?"

"Nothing, Sir."

He looked back down at me. This time with his eyes flashing wide with a bewildered anger.

"Nothing! You're telling me you let a high school kid override you on a play call, in front of the whole team, and you did nothing!"

He had the same intense reaction as Coach Meyers. Who could argue against these two alpha men? They were right. I should have done something. Anything. But, I kept looking up at him, now with pouting lips. I said nothing.

"Fucking hell, Tim. Back down." He shoved my head back down on his shaft. His cock hit the back of my throat causing me to cough and choke. I stifled it as soon as I could and resumed a steady bobbing rhythm on his cock.

"You can be a cocksucker the other six days of the week, but you can't be one on Friday nights." He continued to scold me and berate me for not being man enough to take charge of my team. I listened to his insulting words and sucked on his cock with the most passion I could muster. The film session was actually quite helpful. I wish I could have written some of the stuff he said down. Then, his phone rang. To my horror, he answered. I stayed sucking on his dick but now doing my best to keep quiet.

"Hey Coacher, what's going on?"

Coacher? I had a guess as to who he was talking to. Coach Brooks used that name for me and one other person. It had to be Tyler.

"Oh, I'm just reviewing some film from Friday." There was a pause as he listened to the person on the other end speak.

"No, I'm watching Richmond vs. West Plains." Another pause. "Yeah, our little friend is over here right now. I'd let you talk to him, but he's a little preoccupied at the moment if you know what I mean. He's got quite the mouthful right now."

I could hear the laughter on the other end of the phone. Coach Brooks shared this laughter.

"Here, let me send you a picture, Coacher." Coach Brooks turned his phone and before I knew it there was a bright flash in my eyes. "There you go. It's sent. Did you get it? Yeah, he looks cute down there. Right where he belongs."

Gosh, I really hoped that was Tyler on the other end of the line.

"Tell you what, Ty, I'm about done watching this film. To be honest, I can't take much more of this shit show. I'm going to fuck little Timmy here before he leaves. I'll let you pick in what manner that should be done."

There was a pause - a long one. This was taking some time to explain.

"Hmm, very interesting. You've got quite the imagination, Coacher. I like it though! We will do just that." He looked down and spoke to me but made no effort to cover the phone and hide what he was saying. "Hey bitch boi, take Daddy's cock out of your mouth and get off your knees. Get your ass over the desk. It's time to send you home."

He scooted back in his chair and allowed me to get up.

"Alright Ty, I'm going to let you go. Daddy has some more work to do. I'll see you tomorrow. Take care. Good night, boy." And with that he hung up the phone.

I was already in position waiting for Coach Brooks. My elbows rested on the desk and my ass stuck out as an invitation, an offering, for any man to take. I heard what sounded like the sound of shorts being kicked away and a shirt being discarded. I felt a hand on the middle of my back, and I was pushed down so my chest was flat against the table. Next, I felt the length of Coach Brooks' long shaft press against the crack of my ass. He leaned forward and held me there with his weight. I could see ahead of me what the projector was displaying. Coach Brooks was pulling up more game film. It took me a few seconds and then it hit me. He was pulling up the film from our game two weeks ago against Cedar Springs. He was going to make me relive this game while he fucked me!

"You see what this is, Timmy?"

"Yes Coach."

"What is it?"

"It's our game from last week."

"That's right, boy. It's the ass pounding Daddy's team gave you. A perfect metaphor for what's about to happen. Don't you agree."

"Yes Coach. Yes Daddy."

"Good boy."

Soon the film was rolling, and Coach Brooks released the leaning pressure from his hips. He steadied me with his hand on the top of my ass, and he lined his cockhead up with my hole. Slowly, he pushed into me. I shuffled my feet and tried to relax. It was hard not to resist this battering ram. But just like on the field, Coach Brooks penetrated my defenses and found his way in. I gasped for breath.

"Breathe, boy. Breathe. Come on now. Be tough."

I took quick breaths and blinked away tears. Coach Brooks didn't slow down for me and pretty soon his Red Raider had fully loosened me up. He gripped violently at my hips as he bucked into me. The front of my thighs smacked against the desk. My neck started to ache, and so I let my forehead rest against the table. I could no longer see the projector screen. This was short lived, however, as Coach Brooks took one hand off my hips and grabbed the back of my hair forcing me to look back up at the game.

"Eyes stay on your defeat, bitch boi."

"Yes Daddy."

A couple more forceful thrusts and then Coach Brooks began spanking my ass as he fucked me. On the screen, my offense had just turned it over. One play later, there was a touchdown for Cedar Springs.

"Fuck that's beautiful. Ain't it, little Timmy?"

SMACK! That spank definitely left its mark.

"Yes Coach. Yes Daddy."

Coach Brooks grabbed the top of my jock with both his hands and twisted it in his grip. The pouch and straps on the inside of my legs pulled tightly against my skin. He tugged on my waistband like they were the reins of a horse. He drove deeper into me than he ever had before. He was punishing my prostate. Involuntarily, I started to moan "Coach!" and "Daddy!",

"There it is, boy. That's it. Say it again! What's my name?"

I alternated between these two titles. Coach Brooks' was now at full throttle. At least, I sure hoped he was. I couldn't take much more. He no longer spoke. Instead, he emitted a series of neanderthal grunts, the sound of which intoxicated my mind. That, combined with the intense pleasure to my prostate, sent me over the edge and I made a mess inside my jock.

I squealed as I came - a clear indicator of what had happened. Coach Brooks half laughed and half grunted in reaction to this pitiful noise, and twenty seconds later I could feel my insides being filled up as he slammed into me with a few final measured thrusts. He collapsed on top of me. Both of us gasped for breath. I laid in a pool of sweat that collected on his desktop.

After collecting himself, Coach Brooks pulled out of me. My stretched ass felt extremely vacant in those first seconds after. He walked out the room and came back with a towel. He tossed it at me.

"Clean the desk, coacher. Wipe yourself off. Throw that towel in the laundry room when you're finished with it. I'm going to take a shower. Your clothes are still by the door. Make sure you contact me tomorrow. Good luck this week. You're going to need it."

I watched Coach's hairy ass disappear down the hall. I heard a shower turn on, and I set about to follow his orders. I put my Richmond gym clothes back on and made my way out the door. I felt shame walking to my car. I think it was because I was nervous any onlooker would be able to tell what had just happened - how I had just been bent over and fucked, used as another man's bitch. Luckily for me, there were no onlookers. I walked bow legged to my car, hopped in, and sped down the road.

I looked at myself in the rear view mirror as I drove home. My cheeks were still red, and my eyes looked exhausted. Tomorrow would be another day, I thought - another day to pretend to be a head coach. But deep down, I knew who I was. I was Coach Brooks' bitch boi. I smiled at this thought. I drove the rest of the way home, my little hardon pointing towards the sky.