Date: Sat, 11 Jan 2014 19:28:39 -0500 (EST)
From: Chris Thomas <f27s@aol.com>
Subject: Coach Part 6

As soon as she sat next to him, Coach wasted no time.  Within a second, he
leaned in and took my wife, cupping her neck with one powerful hand and
sliding the other up her dress.  Sophia offered no resistance.  At first,
she submitted passively.  Her body even trembled visibly as Coach pulled
her to him, kissing her just roughly enough and with enough passion to
cause a quiet, but high-pitched moan to erupt from her.  Very soon, though,
She began to worship Coach's muscles, moving her hands first up and down
his forearms, to his biceps, and then feeling every inch of him she could
reach as if she feared it would end before she touched every part of him.

I sat in awe of what was taking place.  Every concern about being cuckolded
and humiliated to the utmost degree dissipated when it happened.  I wasn't
upset or even jealous; in fact, I did not want it to end.  The sock in my
pants failed like a broken levy, and precum saturated my pants.  Coach
removed his hand from my wife's inner thighs and reached behind him for his
wine glass; without speaking, he held it toward me.  An excitement I had
never experienced surged through me, which caused my heart to race and a
grin to spread across my face.  He acknowledged me!  His focus may be on my
wife, but he did acknowledge me! I couldn't stand the thought that I might
miss something while in the kitchen opening the bottles and pouring, so I
rushed to the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of wine, hurrying back to the
living room.  I moved in as close as I felt was safe while I opened the
bottle and poured my new master's glass.  When I held it out for him, Coach
released my wife for a moment and she fell back onto the loveseat gasping
for air.  Though I wanted to see whether Sophia was giving me any look of
pity or guilt, my eyes were locked on the way Coach's bicep rose while he
drank.

"Take off my shoes, boy," he commanded as he leaned back to rest with his
hands behind his head.  Flexing the boulders beneath his skin, he winked at
Sophia, then looked down at me and chuckled.  "Hurry up, boy."  His
command's only purpose was only to humiliate me; I didn't need any
hurrying.  Before he demanded my haste, I was already on the floor with one
shoe off, pulling on the other.  I didn't get back up.  The smell of his
socks was aromatic, and his large feet intrigued me at this point more than
any other part of him.

I longed to touch the soft, black dress sock, but I feared touching him
without permission.  Almost as if he had read my mind and felt I deserved
some consolation prize for losing my wife to him, he moved his feet across
my face then used them to pin me to the floor.  My hand jerked toward my
cock, but was halted by Coach: "No, boy.  Not without permission."

With that he reached toward Sophia once again this time pulling her body
onto him.  She straddled his perfect body and continued her worship.  I lay
content on the floor, loving every motion of Coach's feet, the perfect feel
of his socks on my face.  I couldn't see what he was doing to her, but her
whimpers and moans were enough to convince me it was something I could
never do.  "That's right," he teased, "worship this muscle man."  He kissed
her again deeply.  "You ever seen anything like that?"  She moaned in
response.  "Huh?  You ever seen muscle like that?"

"Never," she responded pathetically.

"Fuck no!" Coach affirmed her praise while doing something that brought on
a series of shrieks.  "You've never seen anything like this.  Your fucking
wimp-ass husband is worshipping my goddamn feet."  She moaned more loudly
than ever and Coach pushed my face further to the ground to show his
superiority.  Moving Sophia to the side just enough to lean forward and
look down me, he offered the humiliation I longed for: "You wanna take my
socks off, don't you?"

"Oh God." was the only exclamation I could seem to express.

"I asked you a question.  Don't you?"

"Yes, Sir." I pleaded.  "Yes, Sir. I do."

"Then beg," he replied, moving his left foot from my face and pressing it
onto my neck.

As I begged, "Please, Sir, let me touch and worship your manly feet," "Oh
God, I want to your feet so badly," he applied more pressure onto my neck
until I could no longer breathe, much less beg.

Lifting the pressure from my neck, Coach gave me the command I longed for:
"Go ahead, take them off."  Though I longed for his feet, I removed them as
slowly as I could.  Uncovering his feet was like a sunrise that I did not
want to hurry.

My submission to Coach had obviously aroused the interest of Sophia.  She
looked down at me as I began to tongue Coach's perfect feet.  I licked them
from heel to toe then ran my tongue in between each toe, savoring every
moment.  "I think he likes my toes better than your cunt," Coach said
smirking down at me.

"He's never licked my cunt," admitted Sophia.

"Oh my God," Coach said as he reinserted a finger into my wife making her
eyes roll into the back of her head.  "What he's doing to my toes is
nothing compared to what I'm about to do to your puss, babe."

She caught her breath, looked him up and down again, then looked down at me
in comparison. "So pathetic," she said cruelly, "not man enough to lick my
cunt, but you'll lick a real man's toes."

I hadn't been bothered by her submitting to Coach.  How could she not?  He
was a god and Sophia, like me, was just human.  I couldn't resist his
power, beauty, and authority, so I couldn't expect her to be able to.  But
being ridiculed by my wife did bother me.  A feeling of shame ran through
me and showed in my visage.

Coach stood with Sophia still in his arms, then placed her down.  My hurt
feelings were overtaken by arousal as I looked up at them both, Coach
towering over Sophia.  He grabbed her tit with his left hand and held her
hair with his right hand.  "Apologize to your husband," he demanded.  She
looked at him with a puzzled look and he repeated himself, "Apologize to
your husband."

Coach's hand guided her head down, forcing her to look at me.  She didn't
look afraid, as I would have thought; instead, she looked even more turned
on.  Sheepishly, she apologized: "I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have said that."

Coach lifted her again and clarified our roles, "Your husband belongs to
me.  You belong to me.  Not by force Ð even though I could force either
of you to do whatever I want Ð but by your choice.  Say the word, and
I'll walk out the door.  I'm counting to five.  Either one of you can end
this now.  OneÉ twoÉ threeÉ fourÉ" He waited just a little
longer before ending the countdown, knowing neither of us would dare speak.
"Five."  The final countdown sealed his ownership of both myself and my
wife.  "Now," he continued, moving his attention between Sophia in his arms
and me still on the floor, "don't treat my property with disrespect.  Treat
your husband like a king.  Treat your wife like a queen.  Treat me like
your fucking God!"

He walked Sophia to the couch and dropped her there.  I followed on my
knees, never taking my eyes off him.  Slowly he peeled off his shirt.  I
had seen well-built men in magazines, on TV, at the beach, but no one came
close to matching Coach's perfection.  It was unreal how anyone could have
such a sculptured body.  The typical clichŽs, "six pack" or "washboard,"
couldn't adequately describe Coach's stomach.  His pecs were even more
massive than I had imagined and were complimented by a light coating of
just enough hair.  He didn't give us time to sufficiently admire his upper
body before he quickly began to unbutton and unzip his jeans and pulled
them down, simultaneously removing his underwear.  As he reached down to
pull off and toss aside his jeans, he cock swung between his legs.  Not
even erect, it was double the size and girth of mine.  Sophia and I stared
at Coach in amazement, and he clearly enjoyed our silent praise.  He
bounced his pecs, moved his hand up his abs, and tweaked his large nipple.

"I don't like to be the only one naked," he said and he plunged onto
Sophia, grabbed the top of her new dress and ripped it off her with ease.
I took his statement to be a command; so I undressed, careful to not touch
my cock as I was commanded, and remained on my knees.  Coach removed the
panties, uncovering the rest of Sophia, then grabbed her waste and pulled
it to his mouth.  Burying his perfectly formed face in her crotch, Coach's
tongue explored my wife's pussy, doing more for it than my cock ever did or
ever could.  She shrieked in a way that sounded almost like she was being
hurt, but her face demonstrated otherwise.  Clearly my wife had just been
taken to a place I could never take her, and I loved watching Coach take
her there.  Without removing his tongue, he moved his arms under her legs
with his hands on her back and swung her around, positioning himself in an
upward, seated position, holding Sophia easily up to his mouth to pleasure
her.  He lifted his right foot upward, signaling to me that I had
permission to worship him also.  I grabbed his calf and pushed my face into
his sole of his foot.  I was in no way jealous of my wife.  I was too
content to worship his feet.  The more Sophia reacted with spasms and
shrills, the more vigorously he applied his tongue to her, and the more he
toyed with me at his feet, slapping me with his foot, pushing me to the
floor, and sandwiching my face between both feet.  I was in this position,
sandwiched between his feet, worshipping his muscled calves, when Sophia's
shrills began to peak like never before.  Coach grunted as he worked his
tongue even harder.  As her shrieks rose in tone so did the pressure of his
feet on my face.  It felt as if my head would explode from the pressure,
when finally she reached her climax.  Coach relaxed his gripped, which by
now had made me dizzy.  I began to wonder if her orgasms with me had been
faked, this being her first, or if Coach had just given her an orgasm that
trumped all others.

This thought escaped my mind quickly.  Coach stood, still holding Sophia,
and motioned for me to stand.  I stood with my eyes on level with his
chest, glistening with sweat.  His cock was now fully erect, so thick and
long I wondered how it could fit into anyone.  He looked right over me and
ordered, "Go and sit at the end of your bed.  I'm going to fuck your wife
there now."

I proceeded to do as I was told.  Waiting on the I watched as he entered
what was now for all intents and purposes his bedroom.  Sophia straddled
him and the two made out as he walked.  He didn't put her on the bed.
Instead, he lowered her slowly onto his cock.  I watched hungrily as her
vagina slowly engulfed this monster cock.  Sophia's face showed a cycle of
pain, then pleasure, more pain, then even more pleasure.  When she finally
took in the base of his cock, Coach lifted his right arm and flexed the
giant bicep.  "This is a real man," he said.  "This is a real cock."  He
walked her to the bed.  He leaned over onto it, and laid her down next to
me with his cock still in her.  He slowly fucked in and out of her.  She
explored and worshipped his body; if she was still in pain, it didn't show.
She looked as if her part of her was engulfed in shear pleasure.  Coach
picked up his pace and looked at me, still seated as I was told.  He seemed
to pity me, looking at my boyish body and baby cock compared to him.  "Your
wife has a tight pussy," he teased.  "That little dick hasn't opened it up
at all.  Does it bother you watching a real man fuck your wife?  Doing what
you can't?"  I wanted so badly to touch my cock.  His teasing and the sight
of his huge, strong, beautiful body plowing into my wife had me more turned
on than I had ever bed.  I didn't respond, but looked at him pleading for
more of his taunts.  "Do you want to stop me?  Come on."  He plowed into
Sophia hard.  "Stop me.  You're gonna let another man fuck your wife in
front of you?  Come on.  Kick my ass and take your wife back."  He slapped
me on the face playfully, but still enough to leave a lasting sting and
slammed into her again.  "Answer me, boy?  What are you gonna do?"

"Nothing Sir," my words fumbled out.

"That's right," his pace and force accelerated.  "Why?"

"I don't know, Sir."

"Wrong answer, boy.  Try again."

My mind raced for the correct response, "Because you're bigger and stronger
than me, and I can't stop you, even if I wanted to."

Still fucking my wife, his hand clutched my neck applying just enough
pressure to cut off my air flow, "Fuck yeah, I am a fucking monster, and
I'd stomp your wimp ass into the ground, but that's still the wrong
answer."

Returning my airflow to me, I tried again, "Because I'm really turned on
watching this, and I don't want it to stop."

Coach grabbed my rock hard, oozing cock.  His hand was larger than my
entire cock, "Your leaky baby dick tells me that boy.  That's still not
why.  Why won't you stop me from fucking your wife?  Huh?"

He let go of my cock and grabbed my balls, squeezing them with such a force
I literally began to cry.  I wanted to answer correctly.  I wanted to
please him.  He squeezed harder and shook my entire body by my balls.  This
made me realize the right answer.  The reason this man could make me grade
his papers, fuck my wife, take control of my home, the reason he held me
literally by the balls was "Because you are superior to me, and you own me,
Sir!"  I cried out the answer cathartically.

He didn't answer, but confirmed my response by releasing his grip and
slamming into Sophia.  For the next thirty minutes I watched as he fucked
her lying on her back, on her knees from behind, holding her in the air, on
his lap, and then in a scissored position.  All the while I stared in awe,
not touching myself.  At one point Coach, asked for a wet washcloth, so I
retrieved it; then he asked for more wine, so I got that.  I wanted so
badly to get to touch him again, even if only his feet, but his attention
was on fucking Sophia, and I didn't dare interrupt.  I stopped counting her
orgasms at ten.  Each one was more intense than the other, until he finally
brought her back to the missionary position, where he performed the grand
finale.  His body moved with such a motion that it was unhuman.  He pulled
his cock until the large mushroomed head almost completely emerged, then
plowed it back in.  My fascination with him intensified all the more.  He
fucked her like the fat of the world rested in her pleasure.  Watching him
was like watching an masterfully create.  He was better looking, larger,
more muscular, and stronger than anyone I had ever come in contact with,
and now I added his sexual talent to his list of perfect qualities.  During
the final orgasm, she writhed in pleasure and exerted a high pitched,
elongated shrill of pleasure.  He brought her pitch higher and higher then
began to grunt while he fucked her relentlessly.  To control her spasmic
body, he grabbed her hands and pinned her to the bed, "Open your eyes," he
commanded.  "Look at me while I finish fucking you.  Look at the man that
just took your virginity."  She looked into his perfect facial features,
the veins running down his thick neck, the powerful shoulders and arms that
held her to the bed.  Though it was her command, I obeyed as well.  My eyes
were transfixed on Coach's ass, legs, and feet, and the way they flexed
each time he re-entered my wife.  Sophia's body jerked violently and her
shrill reached its finale.  Her body went completely limp as she lay
gasping.  Coach grabbed her limp body and kissed her one more time.  Laying
her head gently onto the bed, he whispered, "Now you've been fucked."

Tears began to fill my eyes.  What I had witnessed was so amazing my only
reaction was to cry.  With Sophia passed out, Coach moved up to the head of
the bed and rested, leaning against the headboard.  Perfectly at ease with
me staring at him, he flexed his biceps, triceps, and pecs for me with a
cocky look that aroused me as much as his muscles did.  "Who owns, you
boy?"

"You do, Sir" I replied without hesitation.

"Who owns your wife?"

"You do, Sir."

He hadn't cum yet, and his cock stood erect.  "Good boy," he said grabbing
his hard monster cock by the base.  "Now it's your turn."


*** Part 7 to follow.  Thanks for all the encouraging emails
(f27s@aol.com), especially from the Alpha males.  :) ***