Date: Sat, 27 Mar 2010 22:50:44 -0500
From: chiguy0@gmail.com
Subject: My Wrestling Coach

I was visiting my parents over July 4th weekend in V*****, a small town in
Northern Indiana and happened across my old high school wrestling coach at
the new strip mall.  I walked past a plate glass storefront window and
there he was, sitting in the large chair while Ralph, the old barber, was
trimming his blond sideburns.

The years just melted away as he waved.  Arlan had matured in the past
dozen years from the young man I first knew, but he was as handsome as I
remembered.  Still broad shouldered, still the narrow waist.  His blond
hair looked darker now, and his mat of blond chest hair seemed to have
thickened a lot as it curled out of his black T-shirt.  His steel blue eyes
sparkled as he recognized one of his "stars."  He had coached me from
seventh grade when I joined the boys wrestling team until high school
graduation.  I had a lot to thank him for.

When he stood up and brushed off the loose blond hair, I could see nothing
had changed in that area either.  He still showed one hell of a bulge in
his jeans.  It hadn't been obvious because he wore sweats all the time as a
gym teacher, but after my first wrestling practice he walked into the
shower room and I got a good look at six or seven soft inches of lovely,
pure white, smooth uncut cock.  And attached to a beautiful, muscular,
blond hairy body, too.  God, I thought I was going to pass out.  My heart
started beating like crazy and I could feel my dick throbbing and getting
hard.  I turned the shower water on cold, fast.

He spent a couple of minutes in the shower soaping up and talking with some
juniors and seniors about getting ready for a big meet, and then chatted
with us kids, too.  His big swinging cock was driving me crazy, especially
how the soapy water flowed off the red tip of his long foreskin.  Oh Lord!
Of course, I was just a scrawny thirteen-year-old kid ... but I had a
good-sized dick by then.  And right now it kept wanting to get rock hard
and point at the ceiling.  My knob kept pushing against my tight kid
foreskin, opening it up just a little bit and making me nuts.  Boy, I
wanted to grab that thing, yank my tight skin around and beat the hell out
of my dick.

Just when I thought he was going to turn the water off, he looked around
and asked, "You guys washing the cheese off your dicks OK?"  A lot of the
other guys in the shower room were unclipped, too.  Then he reached down
and gently pulled his long, pointy foreskin back.  I think he used both
hands.  When his bright red knob came sliding out of there with a mess of
white cheese around the ridge, I sort of lost it.  He probably really did
rinse his knob off, but I was under the cold shower and didn't see a thing.

I ran back to my locker still wet with cold water and just got my clothes
on before I was sporting an erection so hard I had to tuck it in sideways.
Luckily I had worn some jockeys under my shorts, or I couldn't have left
the locker room, my hard dick would have poked out from under my shorts.  A
lot of kids didn't wear underwear much, but I was sure glad I did that day.
When I started home on my bike, I could feel my dick throbbing with my
heartbeat and my knob pushing against my tight tip trying to get free.  I
actually had to bend over the handlebars just to peddle; my dick so was
stiff.

I thought everything was safe when Pow!  I stood up on the peddles, thrust
my hips forward and came with several gut wrenching gushes.  I guess the
peddling finally did it.  I almost hit a street light and fell of the bike.

There were some woods and underbrush beside the road and I ducked into
them, dragging my bike along.  I pulled down my shorts and jockeys and
looked.  It was a real mess, all right.  My jockeys were completely soaked
in front and my thirteen-year-old bush was wet and sticky with gobs of cum.
And worst of all, my dick hadn't gone down a bit.  It was poking straight
up at the trees, still painfully throbbing, with cum dripping out the
stretched foreskin tip and running down my cock.  It was so hard, it hurt
when it throbbed.

There was only one thing to do, and boy was I ready.  I reached down and
started pulling and twisting my sticky foreskin back and forth, messaging
my gooey knob through my stretched skin.  The cum had made my foreskin and
knob really slick and my shiny red knob popped out of my tight foreskin.
After just a few strokes my dick swelled up, I fell on my knees thrusting
forward, and yelled as cum blasted out of my raw exposed knob.  I wasn't
aiming real good and splattered cum on the ground and on my bicycle, too.

It actually took another jerk off to finally get my damn dick down.  This
time my dick was so slick with cum that I could slide my tight foreskin
along the entire shaft and swollen knob with firm up and down strokes.  As
I would hit my exposed raw knob my hips would thrust forward and I would
gasp.  It didn't take many strokes abusing my uncovered knob and I blasted
again.  But this time I aimed better and splattered the bushes with a gush
of cum.  Boy, that last one was sure a relief, and I closed my eyes and
moaned as my dick jerked and cum shot out of my throbbing red knob.

I sat down in the grass and after a little while started to carefully work
my aching foreskin over my painful, dripping knob.  My tight kid foreskin
had never been stretched back like that and my delicate knob sure wasn't
used to being exposed.  My bruised foreskin slide over the slick knob with
a snap and I gently pulled the rest of the tight tip forward with sticky
figures.

Sitting there still holding my sore dripping dick, I considered how I was
going to get home.  I sure had a problem.  I found my soggy jockeys and
mopped up my dripping dick and bush the best I could and threw them into
the cum covered bushes.  Then I pulled my damp shorts back on, picked up my
bicycle and slowly peddled the rest of the way home.  It was a damp ride
with the breeze blowing up my shorts and cum still dripping out of my
bruised foreskin.

Luckily, I got home before Mom.  I rinsed off my bike with the backyard
hose and took a quick shower.  At dinner Dad asked if my first wrestling
practice had been tough because I looked tired.  I told him it was great,
but I was a little sore. And how!