"What's the matter with you guys? You got lead in your ass? We're never going to win a goddamn thing if you don't pick up your game!
Tom was screaming at the football team as they practiced for the upcoming game. His red hair glinted in the bright sunlight so that his head seemed on fire, matching his fiery temper. Most of the team looked sheepishly at me, knowing this was not their day.
"Sims, get on the bench! Tubbs, you take over! You've gotta be able to throw better than Sims is doing today. He's throwing like a little girl! A fucking chimp could do better!"
David Sims walked off the field, obviously dejected and angry at his football head coach, Tom Lewis.
"Damn, Coach Baker, what's up Coach Lewis's ass today? I know it isn't my best day but I sure as hell ain't throwing like a little girl and you know it! I'm getting sick of being insulted by him."
I patted him on the back as he sat on the bench.
"You're having an off day, Sims, and Coach Lewis is under a lot of pressure right now. Our university hasn't lost a game against these guys in eleven years. Our team this year is not the best we've ever had, to put it diplomatically. He's afraid of losing the game in his second year as head coach. Give him a break."
David Sims just shook his head as he drank from a bottle of Gatorade.
"I'm sorry, Coach, I don't agree with you. Lewis seems almost like he's losing it. We're eight and three right now. I know there've been some good teams in the past but we're not exactly shit either. He's forgotten this is only a football game and football isn't the most important thing in life. If he keeps riding the hell out of me I'm gonna quit the team and I mean it. I came here to get an education, not just to play sports. I'm going to med school next year."
I felt a chill go down my spine. David Sims was a first class quarterback on one of the nation's finest football teams and I knew he meant what he said. A brilliant student headed toward being class valedictorian, he'd been scouted by several pro teams and wasn't interested at all. He planned to become a surgeon, to follow in the footsteps of his father, grandfather, and several other Sims family members. And he didn't need the money a pro sports team offered. His family was worth several hundred million dollars. He was just temperamental enough to walk out and quit just before the biggest game of our season and there was no one who could replace him.
"Garrison! Are you blind? Man, you didn't even come close to catching that ball! It was coming right at you! He'd have been better off to have hit you with it! In the head!"
I listened to this harassment over the next hour and watched as the guys gradually showed some improvement. Even with him being a total son of a bitch, I had to admit Tom Lewis was right. Today this team was playing far below their regular performance and we were due to fly out tonight for the championship game. Tom was nervous as hell and nerves had turned him into a real shit hill. I didn't blame him at all; in fact I felt the same nerves, maybe worse. This was his second year as head coach and the trustees of the university would make it his last if the team got crucified in this game. And if he got canned his coaching staff would most likely go out the door with him. My dream job as a university defense coach would go down the tubes.
"Scott! I'm gonna let you get the other coaches up to speed before the flight out tonight. We gotta be at the airport at six thirty!"
Tom's voice broke me out of the nerve induced fog I was in.
"Will do, Tom; we'll be at the airport on time."
My name is Scott Baker and I'm thirty-one. I've been coaching football since I graduated with my Master's degree from Auburn eight years ago and I've been lucky. I got hired right out of university into a fantastic high school program in Orlando, Florida. I took the team to the state championships my first year and then repeated that success for six more years, getting national attention. My dedication to my job came with a high price, though.
I married Ellen the year we graduated from Auburn but bitterness developed between us because she resented my being gone all the time. It was tough enough when I was a high school coach but when I was hired by the university the pressure only got hotter. At first, she enjoyed the status of being the wife of a university assistant football coach but the glamour wore off after she'd had three miscarriages in eleven months. The last one resulted in the loss of her uterus. It didn't affect my love for her but it had begun to seem like that love was completely one sided, my side.
Tom was hired at the university after a tremendously successful coaching career at the high school, university, and pro levels. He's thirty eight and married to the beautiful Lois, a former model and Miss America contestant. They've got three sons and Lois works as a surgical nurse at the local hospital. He was hired as a line coach for a pro team when his best friend was hired as head coach. Tom said he had visions of winning a Super Bowl; instead the team went fifteen and one. He and his friend were fired and he was fortunate to land this job as a university head coach. He hired me as one of his assistant coaches after he watched my high school team totally destroy our opponent at championships. I didn't even know he was at the game until I got a call from him a few days later.
And that's how I came to be working alongside him as a university coach. We'd had a pretty good first season, not perfect but still good. Our second season was going pretty well, too. We'd won most of our games but it was the losses that bothered me, losses that bothered Tom also, and for the same reason. We'd lost games that we should never have lost, not even on a bad day, lost to teams that were not even close to our caliber. It spooked the entire coaching staff. Failures like that show a weakness that runs deep within the basic makeup of a team. There had been too many errors, too many penalties called on us in those games.
By the grace of god, we all managed to make the flight and it was after ten on a moonless night when we landed. Everyone was tired and glad to get to the hotel. It was there I was surprised to discover I'd be sharing my room with Tom. He usually shared with Horace Stephens, the offense coach. I got my key and went on to the room leaving Tom discussing game plans. We'd be practicing over the next two days for the game on Saturday. I took advantage of being alone in the room to shower and get in bed. Tom startled me awake when he came into the room like a herd of horses.
"Did I wake you, Scott? Sorry, it's sort of hard to come into a hotel room without turning on lights and making racket."
I sat up in bed.
"Don't worry about it, Tom. I fell asleep because there was nothing to watch on television. So tell me, what's up with us sharing a room? I thought you always shared with Horace."
Tom laughed. "I've had enough. Horace snores like a fucking freight train from the time he goes to sleep until he wakes up. I need some rest and I heard Ricky Bennett saying how you sleep like a little baby, not a sound."
"So what happened with Ricky? Don't tell me you put him with Horace."
"Nah, I put Archie Jones with Horace. I've roomed with him before and he snores as bad as Horace. We'll be lucky if between the two of them we don't get a noise complaint."
"I see. So you didn't set this up because you've suddenly decided you've gotta have my body."
"Fuck you, Baker," he laughed. "I'm gonna go grab a quick shower before I turn in."
I turned on my side facing the wall and pulled the covers up around my face. Soon the running water of his shower lulled me to sleep.
Something woke me in the middle of the night; I glanced at the bedside clock; 2:30 AM. The room was bathed in a faint light from the glaring lights of the parking lot. I lay in silence, trying to figure out what had awakened me. I heard movement and looked over at the bed next to me. Tom was lying naked in his bed, on his back with his legs spread apart. His hand was slowly jacking his cock as he masturbated quietly.
Almost instantly I felt my own erection growing and felt uncomfortable. I'd never in my life had sex with another man and had never felt the slightest inclination to do so. Sure, Tom was handsome and appealing in his own way but I'd never lusted after him, never masturbated thinking of him. So I was torn over what to do. Should I make noise and let him think I was waking up or should I just let this show go on? My voyeur spirit won out. I like watching porn and this was live porn. So I just laid there and watched my boss get his rocks off in the dark.
I decided Tom must have been at this for awhile because he was obviously edging. He'd bring himself to the point of orgasm, his breathing getting hard, and then he'd quit, squeeze his balls enough to lose his erection, and then he'd start all over again. He did this several times while I watched and I felt the dribble of my own precum wet in my shorts. I was careful not to betray my own mounting sexual excitement.
In the faint light of the room I could tell Tom had some hair on his chest and stomach. He would run his hand gently over his chest as he teased and pinched his nipples. His pubic area seemed to have a lot of hair because he would play with it, twisting it in his fingers as he teased his cock. His cock seemed to be around seven inches hard, maybe longer because he could easily wrap both hands around it. He'd do that, forming a tube of sorts, and then use his legs and buttocks to lift his body to fuck his hands.
I heard his breathing suddenly become labored, the sound of impending orgasm, and all of a sudden his cock spurted forth his semen in six big shots, ropes of cum that slapped against his chest and stomach. I watched as he wiped cum drops from his body with his finger, then brought his finger to his mouth to eat his own cum. Finally, he grabbed his undershorts and cleaned himself with them. Within in a few minutes I heard the steady gentle breathing of sleeping.
I rolled onto my stomach and slipped the waistband of my undershorts beneath my balls. Then I pushed my erection into the bed. I fucked the bed with the gentlest movements and soon my own ejaculation spewed forth, wetting the bed beneath me. Then I was embarrassed, not wanting Tom to wake and see that I had masturbated moments after his own ejaculation. That would just seem too gay and would definitely compromise our relationship, such as it was. I just went back to sleep lying in my own cum.
Tom's voice woke me.
"Goddamn it, Horace, this is some fucking shit, ain't it? It's Thursday, for Christ's sake, and the goddamn game's on Saturday afternoon! We need the motherfucking practice time and it's raining like fucking Niagara Falls! I'm putting you in charge of finding an enclosed gym, anything where the boys can practice inside. Of course, with my goddamn luck it can't just be fucking raining; no, we've gotta have thunder and lightning like it's the end of the goddamn world!"
I watched him through barely open eyes as he yelled into the phone. Tom was sitting naked on the edge of the bed, waving his arms and gesturing wildly. Tom couldn't speak a simple greeting to someone without waving his hands or arms around. It was his body that fascinated me. I'd never seen him totally naked before, never seen him more scantily dressed than with a tee shirt and shorts with athletic socks and shoes. I couldn't stop myself from being mesmerized by his crotch, specifically by his pubic hair.
I'd heard the term 'fire crotch' before but I'd never seen one. Tom was sitting perched on the edge of his bed and as he gesticulated wildly his penis and balls swayed with each waving of his arms. His penis was around six inches in its flaccid state, thick with a dark pink circumcised mushroom tip. I felt my own cock begin to swell as I looked at Tom's. It was the pubes that amazed me. The hair on his head was a dark red, almost auburn, but his crotch hair was fiery red, nearly orange, long thick curls seemingly everywhere in his crotch. His forearms and legs were tanned with that almost burnt look that fair skinned people have but the rest of his body was pale. It was not sickly pale, the milky white that is almost repulsive, but just not fully tanned. I was right; he did have patches of dark red hair on his chest and stomach, the same dark red shade was on his legs. I openly stared at his crotch, still fascinated at its color. Most pubic hair I've seen is a few shades darker than what is on a person's head.
"I'm gonna hang around the room this morning, Scott. You're welcome to stay with me or go do your own thing. Just keep in touch every couple of hours. They don't have an enclosed stadium in this area and I guess you heard there's no going out in this monsoon."
"Yeah, I heard. I'm surprised I didn't hear the rain. I usually do."
"It's the hotel," he said. "There are six or seven floors above us and we have a balcony. That muffles the sound of the rain. Still, I guess you sleep deeper than I do. I heard a loud lightning strike and a big clap of thunder about an hour ago and it woke me right up. We're gonna lose this game, Scott."
Tom looked dejected and glum, looking at the floor.
"Well, might as well see what's on TV. Maybe it's on the weather channel or CNN or something so we can find out how long this thing is going to last."
He stood up and walked away from me, his muscular buttocks bouncing as he walked. I was struck with the instantaneous thought that he had an incredibly sexy ass.
Shit, where did that come from; I'd never looked at any other guy's naked ass and thought it was sexy. But his ass was beautiful; in fact I suddenly realized Tom Lewis was a hunk of a man. I could imagine him in bed fucking his wife. I groaned silently within myself. What the fuck was I thinking? Without a word I leaped from the bed and raced into the bathroom. I shaved, did my business on the toilet, and took a cold shower.
In the shower I grabbed my cock in my hand and had a quick jack off session, shooting my load on the shower wall. I consciously fantasized about fucking Ellen while I masturbated. Then I stood under the shower getting myself together. I also looked at my own body, measuring myself against Tom Lewis. He was a total stud, for sure, but I'm not exactly a dud.
While Tom's around six five I'm six one. I've got dark brown hair, so dark people mistake it for black sometimes, with dark brown eyes to match. My skin tans easily and is a soft brown, probably from being second generation Greek on my mother's side. My father is mixed heritage with a father born in Exeter, England, and a mother born in Venice, Italy. My Mediterranean heritage won out in the gene pool and is pretty obvious to everyone. Like many with that legacy, I've got thick hair on the front of my torso, on my forearms and legs. My penis is about the same size as Tom's, only uncircumcised.
In the looks department I figure I'm okay. I was voted Homecoming King in my high school and I've never had any trouble attracting girls. In fact, I know I've also attracted a lot of guys, some of whom actually approached me, while most just look and move on. My response has always been a polite but firm no. I've never been one of those guys that feel they've got to stomp the ass of every gay guy that comes on to them. My mother's younger brother was gay and a really nice guy. I loved him a lot and had no idea he was gay until the day my mother told me he'd been murdered in a vicious hate crime. I was eleven and devastated. Mom and Dad both explained homosexuality to me, taking care to make sure I was put on a path of tolerance.
"Hey, you gonna take all day in there?" Tom yelled.
"I'll be out in a couple of minutes."
I had shampoo in my hair.
"No problem, dude. I just need to take a piss."
He was still naked and I watched through the glass shower door as his piss shot into the toilet bowl. He shook his cock and washed his hands at the sink as I left the shower. Tom didn't try to disguise looking at my naked body before he left the bathroom. I was not shy about my body and I guess I wanted him to see me naked, too, for him to know I have a good body just like his. I hadn't put all my feelings together yet but I did know I felt an almost electric charge in the air.
My wife and I had socialized with Tom and his wife several times within the university and athletic department events but never outside of them on a more personal basis. We'd never even been to each other's homes. I had to make sure of what I was reading, what I was feeling. Was he coming on to me and if so, why did I feel excitement over it? I'd masturbated twice within the last six hours. I certainly was not insanely horny and figured I could keep things under control.
I wrapped my towel around my waist and walked into the bedroom, sitting on the edge of my bed. Tom was sitting on his bed, reclining against the headboard, still naked, as he flipped through the channels with the remote control.
"There was a blip on the local news a few minutes ago. Two tornadoes touched down a few miles from here and it seems the rain's here to stay today. The weatherman said it should actually get worse in the afternoon and early evening with tornado watches on. There's still a chance of rain tomorrow and Saturday but he forecast that it should be scattered and less intense, probably no thunder and lightning. Horace called to say there's no chance of practice today in a facility so he's asked for a meeting room in the hotel to at least have the guys do some basic exercises."
"You gonna go down for the exercising? Would you like me to go for you?"
Tom shook his head no.
"Nah, Scott, let's just leave it to Horace and whoever else he chooses to help. I pissed those guys off enough yesterday and they're all mad with me, probably you, too. It's best to leave them to the P.E. exercise without us. They can vent and work off the negativity. Fucking hell, it doesn't matter anyway. We're going to lose this game; that is if it doesn't get rained out."
I looked at him as he stared at the floor. I'd never seen him so dejected, so down about anything.
"Come on, Tom, I know this game is important to a lot of people but it won't be the end of the world if we lose. It's bound to happen sometime. We can't beat them every year forever. We might as well get the loss over with so people can get their priorities straight."
"Oh, they've got their priorities set alright. Stan Lipton told me straight out that the future of my career with the university could depend on this game."
Shit. Lipton was president of the university booster club, a total prick, one of those guys who were incapable of making the team while they were in school, the kind that become sports fanatics and spend the rest of their lives telling coaches and players what they've done wrong and what they need to do to improve. Most of the sports nuts join the school booster clubs and I fucking hate 'em. Failed athletes are one of the worst plagues to the sports world, a sort of insidious cancer that eats away at athletic programs.
"Look, Tom, Lipton's a total dipshit. I've gotten to know a lot of these people, a lot of our boosters. I've yet to find one who likes Stan Lipton. I still can't figure out why he's the booster president since so many people despise him."
Tom sighed. "Stan's family's given the university over fifty million dollars in the last twenty years. That's why he can do whatever the hell he wants to do. Every time someone at the university decides they need something expensive they turn to Stan. He almost always pays for it, whether it's for athletics or academics. Hell, last year he bought a whole bunch of shit for the physics program, shit the trustees and everyone else with a brain in their head refused to spend funds for."