The Trainer

I leaned closer to the crack and held my breath. For me it was a toss-up as to which was the best part, when they got changed into their pristine uniforms or after, as they peeled their hard sweaty bodies out of them.

Those little skirts, and their rampant thighs poking out of them. Fuck. I kneaded at my crotch. The brutally tight bras and the snug, colourful tops. Then the mouthguards, shoved in, deforming their faces into ravenous, slathering beasts. I imagined giving my neck over to their numbing bite, their deadly suction.

My cock quivered as I pulled it free and squeezed. I didn't want to come too soon so I held it by the root. I watched the freckled one. I liked her even in her street clothes, she was all tom, gangly and mouthy as she joshed with her team-mates. I could hear it all, the back and forth, the run-down of last night's conquests, the occasional compliment on a well-toned stomach or livid bruise. It made me ache with desire to be the least of them, the water-boy, the mascot.

A hand clamped firmly over my mouth. "Don't make a fuss, now," he said. "You wouldn't want to ruin a good thing."

His other hand snaked around to my dick, which he gave a speculative squeeze. I shuddered at his confident touch. "Finally got you right where I want you," he whispered in my ear. I tried to turn to face him, but the space was too narrow. He leaned against me. I could feel his hardness through my shorts.

I recognised his voice. "Mmm?" I asked through his hand.

He punctuated his reply with firm strokes of my dick that had my knees trembling. "You," stroke, "are going," stroke, "to be," stroke, "my bitch."

My heart pounded. I'll admit, I'd fantasized about being tugged off by a guy, but that was before I'd discovered athletic women. At least, that I liked to look at them, the sporty tomboy types particularly, even if I wasn't capable of either speech or rational thought in their presence.

"Say it," stroke, "and I'll let you come."

My dick was betraying me. It wanted so badly to unload. His touch was expert, confident. I whined through his hand. But why? What did the cox of the university rowing crew, who was surrounded by chiselled Adonises who leapt to obey his every command, want with me? I was nothing more than average, physically.

Though, I was better than him in our physics classes. He was always looking over at my notes, leaning in to my space, asking for a little help.

He leaned in now, poking his nose up against the crack in the store-room wall that illuminated a healthy slice of the women's locker-room. "Looks like they're nearly done," he said. He still gripped my cock firmly, although he had stopped stroking it. "Now, then. Here's how it's going to be. I'm not going to tell anyone about this, or about you, and what you do here. But you're going to say you're my bitch, anyway. And you're going to do what I say from now on."

His confidence was almost hypnotic. His grip on my dick focused my attention entirely. I tried to imagine it, being his... boyfriend? Touching him? Kissing him? But I couldn't form an image in my mind of anything more than the most casual of sexual encounters, mutually satisfying but ultimately meaningless.

I shook my head gently. He removed his hand from my mouth. "I... can't," I whispered over my shoulder. "I just don't... think of you that way?"

His smile was lopsided. "That's a start. Let's play a game." He squeezed my dick. I shuddered. "If you tell me the truth, I'll make you come harder than you ever have. If you lie to me, I'll ruin it for you."

Like I said, the space was narrow. He wasn't any bigger than me, but we were jammed in pretty well in the narrow space between the support column and the store-room wall. We'd never be found, even if someone happened to come in. Unless I screamed for help. The thought of a gaggle of fit hockey players coming to my rescue was enticing for all of the half a second it would take them to figure out I was a peeper.

He wrapped his other arm around my chest from behind. It was nice. I felt more vulnerable than I ever had in my life. "You like girls?"

"Yeah." My reward was a firm stroke of my dick, delicious and warm.

"Guys?"

"Uhhh..."

"If you don't know how to answer, just tell me what you're thinking."

"Not... really? I like women's bodies but... sometimes I think about dick?"

"Anyone's dick?"

"No... but... sort of. Some girls I just like anywhere, though this lot," I nodded at the wall, "running about in those skirts..."

He squeezed my chest. "Go on."

"They're amazing. But guys... only sometimes. I don't think about them naked... actually I don't think about anyone naked." I realised as I said it, it was true. I never thought about a whole naked person, male or female. With the hockey girls, the dressing and undressing was the thing. A peek here or a flash there was what excited me. "Maybe it's... the clothes?"

"What clothes?"

"The kit. Definitely the hockey kit."

I could hear the smirk in his voice. He stroked my dick twice. "I can see that. Any other kit?"

Oh yes. Very much so. I don't know why I suddenly decided I was going to play it cool. "I dunno, what are you wearing right now?"

His hand held my dick loosely just below the flange. "Can't you smell it? I'm wearing my coxing gear. My team uniform."

"Do you ever..." My throat was dry. I swallowed. "Do you ever wear the suits?" The amazing one-piece stretchy suits the rowers wore. Nothing was left to the imagination. It was impossible that they never popped wood at the sight of each other. Just impossible.

He slid his hand over the head of my knob, once, twice, three times. "I've had a big rower lad in his suit on his knees, sucking my cock," he whispered at me. "He was desperate for me to let him come. But I wouldn't. Not until he said he'd be my bitch." He started playing with my nipple through my thin tee. "Are you going to say it yet?"

"What's it to you?" I asked.

He gripped the root of my cock hard. "Excuse me?"

"I mean," I said hastily, "what do you want? If you get me horny enough I'll probably do anything. Is that what you want?"

His hand started moving slowly up and down my dick. "That's where we start. Every time I get your dick in my hand, I'll milk another secret out of you. Maybe you want to be fucked in the arse? Maybe you want to dress up like a field hockey girl and suck cock? Maybe we'll get you a tight rowing suit and show you off at the gym. We'll find out. And I will fucking love every minute. Because I love you."

"What?" That was the last thing I'd been expecting.

"I've got a huge crush on you, you idiot. Maybe you're not into me like that, but we can definitely have some fun finding out. In case you missed it, you're a complete submissive, you love being ordered about, don't you?"

I couldn't deny it, although I'd never thought of it quite that way before. "I guess."

"I'm not a total dom, not by a long way, but that's what you need right now. So I'll do it for you. Because I'm in love with you. Now. Shall we go next door? I think you'd look good in those pink panties."

"Oh-h-h-h-h-h-h." I stopped breathing out as I came hard in his hand. It wasn't quite the best orgasm I'd ever had, but it was certainly the most honest. Possibilities flowered in my head as he held me tight. I felt him pull back, disentangle. I backed out of the cramped space too.

He was looking at his spunky hand, smirking at me. His waterproof rowing jacket crinkled softly where he'd pushed it up to his elbows. I realised I only had one option, but I stalled anyway. "Did you really have one of your crew on his knees sucking your dick?" I asked him.

He smoothed his jacket down and cupped his crotch, kneading it for a moment. He looked down, almost demurely for a moment. "Maybe. How much do you want to know?"

"Are you going to fuck with my head a lot?"

"That's sort of the whole point. I'm hoping to get really good at it. If you'll let me."

I thought of that double-edged promise as I sank to my knees. "I'll be your bitch," I said quietly.

"Let's get you kitted out," was his reply.

It seemed like only a moment later I was in a tight lycra suit, kneeling before him. If I hadn't just unloaded, I'd have come in the suit already. It signified everything I ever wanted to be, part of the team, faceless, yet naked, totally on display. The anonymous exhibitionist. Also it felt slick and slippery against my skin, smooth and delightful. I couldn't stop touching myself.

I already craved his crinkly waterproof tracksuit. I wanted to rub up against it, wear it, be made to lose myself in it. God, fuck, I was already standing up, kissing him, just to get closer to it. I felt him falter, take a step back as I ran my hands down his back to his bum. It was lovely.

I realised what I was doing and my knees folded up underneath me again.

"Oh, you're going to be punished for that," he said ominously.

I waited submissively for my training to begin.