13. Jack

"Come in," Coach Nicks calls when I knock on his office door. It"s lunchtime, and not the time that I normally see him. For the past three weeks, he"s made me wait until the end of practice, then he teases me through two more hours of workouts before he finally gives me what I want. Not that he"s giving me everything I want, but at least I get a release out of it. Whether or not it"s right, I like being under his control.

I crave his cock jamming down my throat, the way he holds me against the tiled wall of the showers as he fucks my face after stroking my cock until I"m so close it hurts. I"m desperate for those four words that precede oblivion just as he"s filling my mouth: Come for me, Jack.

I didn"t get my taste last night after practice. Instead, he"d pressed our cocks together and wrapped his hand around them. We thrusted and rubbed ourselves together until I was gritting my teeth and near tears trying to hold off. Nicks lasts forever and always makes me wait for him, but when he said those magic words, we both erupted all over each other.

Then, most surprisingly of all, Coach lathered up a sponge and washed my body, head to foot, before he stroked me hard again. Then he pressed my face against the tile and jerked me off while his other hand teased my ass. I was tense, afraid—but also excited. When he pressed a finger into my virgin hole, I expected to hate it, for it to be painful. It was foreign, and the stretch did burn a little, but once he got me stretched out enough, he was pumping two fingers into me, pressing into some insane spot inside me that had me painting the wall in no time at all.

"Sorry, Coach." I"d had the wherewithal to realize that he hadn"t told me I could come again, but it happened so fast I wasn"t ready for it.

Coach only pushed his fingers deeper inside me, milking my orgasm until the aftershocks wore off.

"Hmmm. I"ll give you this one," he said, pulling away from me and washing his hands under the stream of water. I leaned back on the wall, my bones barely solid enough to hold me upright, and looked at his half-erect cock. Jesus, even only half hard, it was intimidating. Would that thing even fit if I decided I wanted to try to take him? His fingers had made me think it might not be so bad, but up close and personal, I"m pretty sure that monster would split me in two.

"Quit looking at it like that or it"s coming for you," Nicks said, chuckling when my eyes went wide. Then he left, and by the time I finished showering and dressing, he"d left the building.

I thought it might be fun to surprise him, and I"m starting to squirm with memories of the shower last night, which is why I"m here so early today.

"Jack, is everything alright?" Coach Nicks looks up at me over his reading glasses. Other than his insanely fit body, he actually looks his age right now. I sometimes forget how much older he is. It"s another reminder of how fucked up I am, because the way he looks at me over his glasses is kind of doing it for me.

I pull the door closed behind me and reach for the lock.

"What do you think you"re doing, Jack?"

I shrug. "I came to suck your dick," I say nonchalantly, pulling my hand back from the doorknob.

His eyes flash and dart towards the door.

"No. That"s not the arrangement. You get your reward after training, when you behave. There are too many people here. You need to go. Behave."

I give him a salacious grin and cup my erection through my pants. "Come on, Coach. You can"t tell me you don"t want me to choke on your fat dick at all times of the day." Instead of waiting for his answer, I walk around his desk and drop to my knees, pulling my dick out to show him what he does to me. "I just need a little taste to get me through the rest of practice, Coach."

The telltale bulge in his pants is enough to tell me he wants it. There's no denying I"ve gotten good at sucking his dick these past few weeks. I know just how he likes it, and he fucking loves my mouth on him. It"s a reward for both of us.

I scoot forward and run my hands up his thighs. My fingers are on his belt buckle when someone raps on the door.

Fuck. I didn"t actually turn the lock. My eyes meet his, and while I know my expression is one of terror, his is pure vitriol. He's pissed.

Kicking me underneath his desk, he clears his throat and calls for whoever it is to come in. His chair pulls up tight, and I fall back against the metal sheeting that hides me from view.

Coach Nicks" voice is calm and patient, like there"s nothing out of sorts. "Tuck, what"s up?"

"Hey Bryant, you got a minute?"

"Of course, whatcha got?"

Coach Sanders is discussing the defensive lineup and some ideas he wants to try at today"s scrimmage. They drone on and on, and I"m getting irritated because I"m missing my entire lunch break, cramped under a desk, waiting to get my ass torn up for almost getting us caught. I know what would happen, and it wouldn"t only be Nicks that would be fucked. I"d lose my scholarship and my ride to the NFL.

I know how pissed he"s going to be when Coach Sanders finally leaves, and I know my punishment is going to be more than taking a throat beating. This is a real offense, not just leaving a cupcake wrapper in the takeout container he always brings me for lunch. I like finding little ways to get under his skin and rev him up, but this is something different.

But as long as I'm here—in for a penny, in for a pound, right?

Slowly, quietly, my fingers touch the inside of his thigh. He doesn"t so much as pause his conversation, giving nothing away, but his cock twitches and swells the closer I get to it. When I reach his belt buckle, he shifts, trying to covertly push me away, but he ends up inadvertently giving me more space between his thighs. He tenses as I get his belt open, and even coughs to cover up the sound of his zipper, seeing as he can"t exactly slap my hand away. I"m able to pull his cock out beneath the desk and start sliding my hand up and down his shaft in slow, tight strokes. When I lean forward and lick the little drop of pre-cum that trickles from the slit, Coach actually jumps, but the movement gets covered up by his phone ringing.

"Shit, I need to take this, Tuck. This all looks good, though. I'm looking forward to seeing how it plays out. Would you mind pulling the door behind you?"

He looks down and gives me a death glare. "Fucking stop," he hisses before picking up the phone.

"Bryant Nicks," he says tersely into the phone.

"Yes sir, I have time." I only know of one person Bryant Nicks would call sir, and that"s the dean. He moves to start tucking himself back in his pants, but I lunge forward and take his cock in my mouth before he can.

Nicks lets out a puff of air and rakes a hand through his hair. "No sir, all good here. Just pulling out my file for the donor brunch. We have an impressive list this year."

There"s some chatter through the receiver, and Nicks diligently makes understanding noises as if he"s listening. Meanwhile, he sits back in his seat and fists my hair, moving my mouth on his dick. I do just like he"s taught me, relaxing my throat and letting him position me, and he takes control. While he"s on the phone, discussing plans for some fancy brunch event, he keeps my movements pretty slow and light. It"s almost relaxing. But when he hangs up, he all but growls in my face.

"You fucking brat," he spits between gritted teeth. His grip on my hair, which has grown considerably since I got here, is punishing, to the point I am sure hair is being pulled from my scalp. He thrusts into my mouth without mercy, holding me down as he pummels my throat. When I start sucking air through my nose, he plugs it with his other hand, leaving me without any air at all. My hands pull at his hips and thighs, nails raking at his exposed flesh, pushing and pulling, doing anything to fight my lack of oxygen. Nicks doesn"t relent, though, continuing to fuck deep into my throat and looking at me with murderous intent. He"s fucking pissed and out for blood.

Just when spots are starting to form before my eyes, Nicks grunts and empties himself into my throat. I force myself to swallow, desperate for breath. He doesn"t hurry, making sure I get every last drop before he pulls out of my mouth and smacks me across the face with his wet, flaccid cock before throwing me to the floor.

"If you ever pull that shit again, I"ll fucking end you. Do you understand?"

I"m too busy wheezing air into my lungs and coughing to answer.

Through everything I"ve gone through with Coach Nicks and our arrangement, I"ve never once actually been afraid of him. Until now. Even so, my dick has never been more alert.