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Coach Turns Bi


New PE teacher and his wife seduced by well-hung student

I made it! I made it across that stage wearing the Cap & Gown! Plowed through the long years of college and graduated! Yes! High-five! Thanks to Uncle Sam and the GI Bill, I had a diploma!

Eleanor and I were in the Army in tough times, and when I hit 20 years in 1965, we decided to retire. As a drill sergeant, I liked training new soldiers and figured I'd make a lifelong career of training, but after 20 years in the Army. I wanted to get into civilian teaching. Physical education. I wanted to be a coach.

But, sheesh, college was rough. Basic Training for the brain. I went into the Army at 18, right out of high school, so at 38 I had been out of school for a long time. Not only was I older than the other college students, I was also bigger (20 years in the Army can give you a good build). Ellie always teased me about the "bald, tough-guy look" (I shaved my head). She said I looked like a bald John Wayne and called me "Duke."

I met Eleanor in Germany when I was stationed there at the end of the War. She had been a university student in Nuremberg before the B-17s blew away the college. She knocked me out. At 5'1", she was a Bavarian pixie with a Marilyn Monroe body in miniature -- tits that made me glad I had hands, a slender waist, svelte hips, and legs -- Damn, her legs! Technically speaking, her legs were short, but she was so perfectly in scale, she looked like a long-legged bikini model in doll form.

And smart as a whip. Could talk about anything. Knew the history of the area (Nuremberg was a Protestant island in the middle of Catholic Bavaria and had been a battleground for centuries), but, poor thing, her intellectual conversations about Kierkegaard or Proust often ended up with the American barbarian sliding his cock into her.

Because I was the typical US Army GI -- two major organs: mouth and cock. Food was pleasure; fucking was ecstasy. The only two goals in life.

But -- and this is where she really blew me away -- Ellie was hot. She had the same desires (maybe a little more refined). She was beyond belief -- in 1946, life was hard in Germany, but Ellie could cook up a meal of pasta and beans that tasted like shrimp marinara, and she gave me the hottest sex I ever had. She liked the "preparation," the flowers and candy, and foreplay, what she called "the first act," and then she would come on to me so hot, she almost made me blush.

For all the intellectual conversations we had (or that she tried to have), for all the sights of that ancient city she showed me, for all that she tried to explain what the word "philosophy" meant, at the end of the day, she was -- I could hardly believe it -- as hot and horny as I was. She would fuck me like my wildest wet dreams. Once I dialed the right combination (and she was always changing it), she was a sighing, panting, dilating fuck-machine who never failed to thrill me to the ultimate, balls-aching, mind-blowing MAX!

If I had been a feeble, homosexual hermit in a Himalayan monastery who never knew or cared anything about females, Ellie would -- no doubt about it -- have turned me into a fuck-hungry, cunt-minded, sex-maddened lunatic. . . . which I already was.

Her body was all I could think about, but in real contemplation -- actually soberly thinking -- I loved her for the excitement, the fascination, the cornucopia of new feelings she brought me. To my surprise, she taught me my brain could rule supreme over my scrotum. I could conduct myself as a civilized human being. For a while.

But in a split second, Ellie could turn me into a sweating, heavy-breathing Neanderthal (a horny cave man first discovered, as a matter of fact, in Germany), and fucking her quickly became -- I couldn't think of it any other way -- the End-all of Life.

I was stationed nearby in nearby Ansbach, and I soon started burning up the autobahn in visits to Hitler's favorite city, Nürnberg. Ellie showed me the sights -- the Palace of Justice where the "Nuermberg Trials" were being held, the parade grounds where thousands of SS soldiers had marched with Nazi flags, the ancient castle, and we walked along the Pegnitz River. I soaked up German culture and history, but a hardon became my normal state.

We were married in the Frauenkirche cathedral.

In intimate moments she sometimes called me Duke der Grosser, German for "Duke the Great," but she also whispered it could mean "Duke the Big." Ellie I got along just fine. In return for the long list of honey-do's Duke had to do each night when he got home -- most often Duke got her honey-pot for his efforts.

And 18 years later, I took off the uniform and put on civilian clothes. But just before I did, Ellie and I had one last military roll in the hay before we became "townies." I was 38. She was 32 and looked 25. "Ellie, you are such a babe. If I can't get a job out there in civilian-land, do I have your permission to sell postcards of those shots of you we took at the nude beach at St. Tropez?"

"You do, and I'll bite this off!"

But she didn't. Her hot lips slid over my shaft, and all thoughts of postcards, jobs, civilian life, everything disappeared in a growing red haze of ecstasy. Ellie could always blast me out of this world with just a few blowjob slurps. I don't know how she knew, but at the very instant I reached the pinnacle of orgasm, she clenched my balls hard, tight, and painful -- but the pain shot the pleasure through me like a 50-caliber slug, and I always lost it. Fell back on the pillows helpless and moaning, barely conscious.


We moved to a college town in Virginia. Like I said, college classwork after two decades in the Army was a real bitch (who cares if Ashurbanipal was the last great king of Assyria?) But I made it. Sat through the basic classes, wrote my papers, went through assistant-teaching courses, spent hours in the library, kissed whoever's whatever I had to, and in 1969 I made it to graduation!

Even finer, I got a job! Physical Education Teacher at Mirsuccie Mississippi High School! I was a coach! We moved from Virginia into the Mississippi hinterlands and found an apartment in Mirsuccie. We got there in June, just in time for the summer heat and humidity. Woosh! Never lived in such a Turkish bath. I got a new definition for "sweat" -- something I was always dripping with.

Small rural school. Tiny town back in the woods. I was to coach everything: the football team, the basketball team, and the baseball team -- but hey, it would be fun, and I was on my way! School hadn't started yet, but the football team had started summer practice.

The school was so small, each team consisted of the same kids. I spotted a very big guy playing football when I first got there -- Jeez, a real Heisman contender -- but they warned me about him. "Watch out for Huron Cuorosckec. You'll see him. Biggest kid in the school. He's 21 years old because he's a troublemaker and was held back three years. Still a high school senior. He should graduate this year -- and we sure hope so."

I got a closer look at Huron Cuorosckec later in the showers, his back to me -- tall, broad-shouldered, and heavy-muscled. Long, sturdy legs like treetrunks. Buttocks like hard, rounded footballs. His back was so muscled, it was an anatomy lesson to look at. Damn, that's a high school kid??

He was not only bigger than the other boys, he out-sized even me! That young man may have been older than the rest at 21, but he also had good genes and must've had a life of hard work -- even at that age he was about 6'2" and weighed around 200 pounds. Shit, what a big kid -- Charles Atlas in a high school shower room! So big he could've had the nickname "Moose," but I figured no one dared call him that.

I mentioned him to Ellie that night at dinner. "I have a big kid on the football team. He's huge. Of course it's because he's older, 21, but jeez, it's like coaching a college football team."

"What's it like coaching a kid as big as you are?"

"He's bigger than I am. Taller. Heavier. He should be great on the team." I snickered. "The other teachers told me not to fool with him; he's a troublemaker. They're all just dying for him to move on."

Ellie gave me that sultry smile. "A troublemaker? That turns me on. You're a troublemaker. I like troublemakers." She reached into my lap. "And even bigger than you? I don't think so. You're about as big as they get, my big, shaved-head stud. You want to fool with me, Troublemaker?"

Damn, she knew what buttons to push. At all other times, Ellie was cool, calm, and collected, the perfect German wife -- proud, intelligent, polite (and a stickler for protocol). She always knew which fork to use at a banquet, and she could tie my bow-tie if I had to wear a tux.

But when she got intimate, Boo-yah!

I often caught myself chuckling about how I cheated fate: the kid who barely made it out of high school, the stupid dork who thought the fingerbowls at the banquet were to drink from, the moron who thought a Koch was a German's penis (it means "cook"), this loser was the unbelievably lucky dude who ended up marrying Ellie, a girl so far above me in everything, I figured the only reason she married me was that I could get Span from the PX in 1946.

Coming home to Ellie was still like rendezvousing with a college coed in a sidewalk café. Like meeting a princess slumming with a local peasant. We would talk about stuff -- intellectual stuff. Me talking about intellectual stuff! I still can hardly believe it -- over some grapes and cheese, we would talk about how a "plagel cadence" -- the "Ah-men" notes ending much classical church music had evolved through the centuries into the guitar-screaming "Ta-daaaah!" ending a modern blues song. I know just hanging around Ellie raised my IQ two whole points.

But when she "relaxed" and got horny, my IQ dropped four points. And I swear, sex with her gave me two more inches. She would come on to me, seducing me, taking the active role -- and then, once she set fire to me, she became demure and shy! "Why, my heavens, you big barbarian, what are you trying to do to me?"

I never thought women could be so sexy or make me so horny. But after decades, Ellie and I were still fucking away, usually more than four times a week.

So for Ellie to get turned on that morning as I talked about Huron Cuorosckec wasn't so unusual. She could get turned on by the strangest things -- I gave up trying to predict her. But her challenge to fool around made me so hot . . . well, I don't remember what the rest of breakfast was. I spent the rest of the time on the kitchen floor -- we never made it to the bedroom. Her legs gripping mine, her arms around my neck, her pussy enveloping my cock like a sucking furnace, my intentions to fuck Ellie until she cried Uncle almost faded into my surrender. Holding back was hopeless -- she could drag the orgasm out me, writhing against me so seductively, in all honesty, I was not the one in control.

Then I drove tender-crotched to the high school with a cock so fucked-out soft, I prayed I wouldn't have to use the showers. Wouldn't want anybody to see me with a dinkie this limp. It was no big deal, but I was fairly accustomed to (and a little proud of) the admiring glances I got in the locker rooms. I, too, had good genes. Thank you, oh, hung forefathers.

That morning I walked through the locker room, and passing by Huron Cuorosckec, I saw him pulling on his shorts. And I saw something that made me blink. Damn, look at the cock on that kid! His jockstrap pouch bulged out like two fists clenched in a nylon mesh! Huge! Hell, it was gigantic!

Through the day, I couldn't get that out of my mind. Damn, what a giant cock that kid must have!

What in hell's the matter with me? I've seen cocks before. I've seen
big ones before!

But damn, that kid has a big cock!
I stuck a toothpick in my mouth. Come to think of it, I haven't actually seen it in the flesh.

Dinner that night was meatloaf. As the meal ended, still thinking about The Huge Jockstrap, I mentioned it casually to Eleanor, "One of the kids in my classes probably has a cock bigger than mine."

She looked up. "Now, that's quite a transition. First we were talking about my butterfly garden in the back yard." She smiled and lowered her voice. "A penis bigger than yours? That big kid you were telling me about? Tell me more."

"Yeah, that big kid, Huron Cuorosckec. I walked by him in the locker room today, and I got a good look at his jockstrap. He's got a big one."

She smiled. "A big jockstrap? So he's fat?--

--"You know what I mean."

She lowered her voice even more. "So . . . how big is it?"

"Couldn't really tell. You can't get a hardon in a jockstrap -- it just doubles up in the pouch, so the bulge is just packed nylon." I winked at her. "Don't know how long it really is, but it looked like he was trying to smuggle out a baseball glove."

Ellie looked up at the ceiling, thinking. "One of your student's has a prick bigger than yours . . . now what can I do about that?" She smiled again. "It must be gigantic . . . yours is the biggest thing I've ever seen." Her voice turned soft and seductive. "Yours can really straighten me out."

She pushed back from the table and pulled her t-shirt over her head, baring her breasts. No bra.

My mouth was suddenly dry, and I licked my lips.

"Why don't you" -- she stood up and tugged down her shorts -- "give me a posture-straightening treatment?"

I leaned back in my chair, faking annoyance. "Happens every meatloaf night, Ellie. You don't let my meat loaf." She was such a horny little minx, sex was always a kick. First thing I knew, she was running toward the bedroom screaming, "Help, the big, hairy Amerikaner is after me!"

After all the years, she could always get me lumbering after her, so lust-drunk I really was a barbarian. Once I knocked over a floor lamp in my desperate pursuit, and another time I fell over an end-table and almost knocked myself out.

But when I reached the bedroom. Oh. My. God. Lying back on the bed, her legs spread wide, the signal flags were Skip the foreplay! As I knelt over her, she guided me into her steamy mount, and soon I was sighing with that oh, yeah, home! feeling as my cockhead slid into the hot, wet depths past heaven's gates.

She knew how to turn me on, and she loved to do it. "Give me all you've got, Duke! Let me feel it! Harder! Harder! Oh! Yeah! Stretch me wide, you big animal! Fuck me! Fuck me!" She knew I loved to hear her talk dirty, and she never failed to turn me into a frenzied, jackhammering madman.

For as much as I tried to think of myself as James Bond -- cool, calm, and collected, playing the woman like a fine violin -- Ellie was the real bandleader. With a movement here, a shrug back there, and those fiery kisses, she could turn me from a whistling piccolo into a solid iron trombone -- usually ending up with me as a wheezing, gasping accordion. Incredible. Every thrust was heaven! The happiest trail in the universe, and it led up to a Matterhorn of pleasure! No effort was too great to get there.

In fact she made me so horny, it was almost life-threatening. I could see my epitaph: "...Fucked to death.." Often she made me cum so hard, I worried about pulling something inside, and I said so once. While we lay together afterward -- I was sweating and panting (she was "glowing" and "breathing deeply") -- I murmured, "What would you do if I strained a testicle?"

She rolled over to me like a soft, dangerous mink. "You have two, don't you? We'll go on with the good one."

That night Huron Cuoroskec's cock (or the discussion of it) scored me a fine sex session, one with a sequel the next morning -- leaving me hot and sweaty and with only enough time to grab a quick shower and pull on my clothes. Damn, I'm a lucky guy! I knelt down and kissed her. "Goodbye, horny woman. See you this evening."

"I love you, big-cock Coach. You're such a stud. Try not to push those kids around. You're not a drill sergeant anymore, you know." She kissed me again. "Let me rub that big, shiny head for luck." As she often did, she raised one hand to the top of my head and rubbed me fondly. But then the other hand slid into my pants and squeezed my cock.

I was still breathing hard as I pulled out of the driveway.

Football practice at Mirsuccie High School was the usual thing that day, but I kept thinking about Huron Cuorosckec. For one thing, just telling Ellie about him got me two roaring good fucks, so my curiosity kept simmering. I walked through the locker room after the practice, hoping to see once and for all how well that young guy was hung. Had bad timing, though: that day -- and in later days -- I didn't quite catch him naked. Always with shirt off, always just beginning to pull his pants down, always with a towel around him, always with jockstrap still on. I couldn't hang around to watch, of course. All I could risk was a quick glance as I walked by.

I wondered, though. From the looks of it, that kid could be the best-hung guy I've ever seen. And that turned it into a challenge. Dammit, by the time this week is over, I'm going to see that kid's cock!

But I kept slipping up. Once I passed by so close I almost bumped into him, but again, I was a little too early. Shit! As always, I couldn't afford more than a quick glance, but I enjoyed it. What a bod! That kid is like a Roman gladiator. Damn, what a physique! He was 18 years younger than I, but, as the locals would say, shee-yut! He was taller, and he outweighed me. I wasn't afraid of him or anything like that -- I had a black belt in kung-fu and 20 years of self-defense training and tours of combat -- I just admired his physique.

When I realized my fascination, I began to wonder about myself. For hell's sake, he's just a high-school kid! And a male, on top of that! What in hell's the matter with me?

So I let up on it. Stopped "happening by" the locker room. Didn't mention anything more about the Big Kid On My Football Team after dinner.

But Ellie brought it up: after a couple of days, she said, "What about the kid with the big penis?"

Huron Cuorosckec's cock was the 12-inch gorilla in the room. "Jeez, Ellie! You want to talk about a high school kid's prick?"

Her fork toyed with a piece of lettuce. "I like big pricks." She looked up at me. "I like your big prick." She went back to eating. "So I like to hear about other big pricks." She looked up again. "Did you get a good look at him?" She grinned. "You're curious, too, aren't you." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah, I'm curious, I've tried to get a look at him, but I can't just go walking in there and tell him to drop his pants. I've wandered through the locker room when the team is changing clothes--"

--"And? Has he really got a big one?"

"Haven't seen him. Every time I go by, he's still half-dressed -- and if I start hanging around him, I could get into a world of trouble."

"Hmmph!" Ellie went back to eating. In a quiet voice, she murmured, "Find out. Get a look at him. I want to know if you have a student in your class with a prick bigger than yours."

The next day, without even thinking about Huron Cuorosckec, I walked through the locker room to see if the assistants had brought in all the line markers. And -- Damn! -- I saw Huron with a hardon in his jockstrap.

Incredible. It stretched the pouch out so far, I could see daylight and part of his thick, hardened cockshaft in the stretched-out opening. I realized all my earlier amazement had been at Huron soft! It was like a liter soda bottle in a jockstrap pouch,. I gulped. Still not as big as it could get!

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