Date: Mon, 21 Apr 2014 08:31:21 -0700 (PDT)
From: - - <mike.99999@yahoo.com>
Subject: Coach and Shy Kid - Part 4

I"m sitting next to Coach, as we're driving away from the doctor's.

I've gone from too shy to change for gym, or even take my shirt off at the
beach, to showing it all in the doctor's office with Coach watching, and
see him totally nude too.

I tell myself that it's no big deal, that it was quick, that it was like a
dare. Guys are always daring each other to do stuff like that, right? Guys
always moon each other. I'm thinking about how a shirts-and-skins game in
the park is nothing now.

Or would I be comfortable around other guys? Maybe it's just that Coach
makes me comfortable.

"It looked fine," Coach says to me. I guess I was kind of zoned out for a
bit.  "What?" I ask.

"The size was normal," Coach replies. "I know guys always want to know if
their dicks are big enough or normal or average. The fact is, everything's
normal. Even if it were on the smaller size, that's okay."

I wasn't thinking about that at all. I guess I'm glad, though. Coach must
have seen a hundred dicks on guys my age before, same for the doctor. I
guess it really wasn't a big deal at all to them. They probably all look
the same to them.

"Oh, okay. Thanks," I say. It sounds weird as I say it, to thank somebody
for saying my dick is a good size. I suppose it was nice of Coach to think
about if I'd be worried.

I still can't believe I saw Coach's dick. His was a good size too, I
suppose. Should I tell him that? I wonder if his is bigger or smaller than
the doctor's.

"I can't believe I did that," I say, just trying not to sit there saying
nothing. "I guess, it's good to know that I could do it if I had to, like
for a physical."  "Tom, you just had a physical," Coach says.

We look at each other. I guess I did. If that's the whole thing, then I did
it. I was thinking that a physical was like 20 guys all in one big room
waiting in line, standing naked to get poked and prodded all over and get a
needle in the butt. I don't know what I expected. Honestly, just having to
take my shirt off was more than I thought I could handle.

We get back to Coach's house, and he asks if I want to play catch. I guess
it's our thing. I say yes, and we head over to the park.

After about a minute, we're both sweating in the sun. I see Coach go to
take off his shirt, and I mirror him. It feels good to just do it without
getting freaked out. The sun feels good on my shoulders. I look at Coach
without his shirt on and picture him dropping the rest of his clothes, like
he did at the doctor's. I zone out a bit again.

A bunch of guys my age are walking through the park. My instinct is to put
my shirt on and walk in the other direction, but I'm here with Coach
now. They wave at him. Maybe they're on the baseball team; I don't really
know any of them. Coach casually waves back and throws me the ball.

They're looking at me as I throw it back. I think a couple of them are
talking about me. I can't really tell. They're pretty far away. They go
back to whatever they were talking about as they continue. One of them
steals another's hat off his head. He chases him into the parking lot and
around a fence, so I can't see them anymore.

Coach and I keep playing catch with our shirts off. I get to just stare at
his body. When he throws, his arm flexes and looks twice as big. I look at
my own arm, kind of pale and kind of thin.

"Do you lift weights?!" I ask. Immediately I feel stupid, but I'm getting
used to actually saying stuff and then just letting myself feel stupid for
saying it.

"Yeah!" Coach replies.

"Is it hard?!" I ask.

"That's the idea!" Coach answers. "You ever try it?"

"No!" I answer.


"You want me to show you?" Coach answers.  "Now?" I ask.


"No, I work out at the Y. You want to check it out?" he asks.  "Uh, okay I
guess!" I smoothly respond.

"How about tomorrow morning?" he asks. "Are you busy?"

I have nothing else going on, of course. "No, I'm not busy."

Coach runs in. His shirt is tucked into the back of his pants like a
tail. When he gets closer, I see beads of sweat on his face and chest and
arms.

"Hey, I'll show you some lifting and then we'll get in the pool," Coach
says.

I immediately start thinking about the locker room and changing and Coach
has seen me naked but that was real quick and do you shower and what are
the showers like and will there be a lot of other guys there and even if
it's just one or two but they won't know me but what if it's some kid my
age who knows me?

"Just wear your bathing suit under a pair of shorts, then we can hop right
in," Coach says. "That's what I do. It's great to cool off after working
out."

I think about how that's a good plan. "Uh, okay, thanks," I say. Coach can
probably tell that what I'm thinking about.

"Afterwards, most guys there just wear their suits in the shower and then
change under a towel, like I showed you," he says. I nod, a little
relieved. Have I already agreed to go? I guess it'll be fine. I'm nervous
to be around other guys that might be naked.

"Okay, tomorrow morning," I say.

"Hey Tom, I have some stuff to do now. I'll see you tomorrow at 8:30?"
Coach asks, pointing back to the house.

"Oh, okay, that's alright," I stammer. "Thanks for ...hanging out, and
playing catch and I, I'll see you tomorrow morning. I hope I didn't take up
too much of your time."

"Not at all," Coach says and runs off. I start to walk home, thinking about
what has happened, remembering how the doctor slowly slid Coach's underwear
down and then did the same to me. I replay the moment of Coach's reveal and
what it looked like and the moment of my reveal and what it felt like.

Then I realize that I'm not wearing a shirt. I can't believe I didn't
notice. I run back to the park and get it. It was just lying there. Some
people are lying out in the sun wearing bathing suits. I decide to walk
back home without a shirt. One the way, I pass some old guy gardening
without a shirt. He says "Hot day, huh?" to me, and I say, "Yeah."

The next morning, I get up, take off my pajamas, take off my underwear,
wonder what it'd feel like if I didn't wear underwear under my pajamas,
look at myself in the mirror, and watch my dick flop around as I walk over
to get out my bathing suit.

I pull it on. The legs are kind of short, but the waist is okay. I pull
some tan cargo shorts on over them, put on a T-shirt, and head over to
Coach's.

When I get there, he's waiting outside again. We get in his truck; it's
like a jeep but the big kind. He has some bags and a bat in the back
seat. We drive like 15 minutes to a the Y and park and walk in. He signs a
little paper on a clipboard, and we go to the back. He takes me to an area
with weights and machines.

"Okay, Tom," he says, "let's stretch a little before we get started. We
always do this before every game and every practice." I look at him and
copy what he does. We put one arm in front of the other and pull it
around. We stand our legs wide and reach to either side. We roll our arms
in little circles. We lift our knees up. It's not hard. It looks a little
goofy.

Then he goes around to different weights and shows me how to hold them and
how to lift them. I yank them up and swing them around, so he lays his hand
on my back and shows me how to lift with just my arms.

Then he demonstrates lifting two little weights over his head. I can see
his armpit hair peek out, and it's still interesting, even though I've seen
the whole package.

We go around and do a bunch of lifting. He's lifting three or four times
the weight that I am. I get a little sore pretty quick, and I think he can
tell.

"That's about it, son. What do you think?" he asks.  "It was alright," I
respond.

"You do a little bit more each time and stick with it," Coach says. "And
pretty soon you'll see a big difference. Hey, you want to go cool off now?"
I nod my head. I'm hot and sweaty and sore, but I'm a little nervous about
the locker room situation.

As we walk into the locker room, I can see there's a couple guys in
there. They're older, and they're wearing just towels like Coach said. Then
I see a younger guy with a little kid. They're walking out. They have wet
hair.

"Oh, I didn't bring a towel!" I say.  "They have them here," Coach says.

We walk over to some lockers with a bench next to them. Coach pulls off his
sweatpants, and he has a bathing suit on underneath. He pulls his shirt up
over his head, while kicking off his shoes. I sit down and pull my shoes
off. Then I stand up and unbutton my shorts and let them fall. Then I reach
an arm back and pull my shirt over my head.

We put our stuff in lockers, and Coach is over by a shelf grabbing some
towels. I follow him, and we head into the pool. We hop in, and it's
nice. There's a woman swimming laps, but there's a big area without the
ropes. It seems like a swim class just got out or something, 'cause there's
a bunch of kickboards and pool noodles and goggles lying around. There's a
few people standing around and talking, and there's a couple lifeguards.

Coach swims around a bit, but we both just kind of sit in the water and
relax. We float next to each other. I ask Coach if he comes here all the
time, and he nods yes.

"You know," Coach says. " A long time ago, the Y was men-only, and you had
to be naked in the pool." I wonder if he's joking. I don't know what to
say.  "How long ago?" I ask. Coach laughs. We splash around, and I never
get an answer.

After a bit, we're kind of bored and cold, so we decide to get out. We both
have to pull on our suits, because they cling to our bodies. I guess that
happens to everybody. I can kind of see the outline of Coach's penis. I
look down and can kind of see mine too. I hold the towel so it's hanging in
front.

We walk into the shower area and hang up our towels. It's empty. The water
feels good and warm. We rinse off and warm up. Coach puts his head under,
and I mirror him.

Coach pulls out the waistband in the back to let the water run down. I
mirror him. Then he does the same in the front, and we both laugh.

Then a couple guys come in. They're a little older than Coach. They're
talking about some business stuff. Then two kids run in. They get yelled at
for running. Now we're all under the water and wearing bathing suits, just
like Coach said.

But then those two guys slide their shorts down and bend over to pick them
up. I decide not to look. I'm glad Coach is here too, so don't end up the
only guy not naked.

The kids keep their shorts on and are goofing around. The guys keep their
gaze in each other's faces. I notice that Coach is watching me try to look
but not look.

He turns his water off, and I follow him. We grab our towels and start
drying as we walk. We stand next to each other at the lockers. He dries his
legs and his suit, and then he wraps his towel around his waist. I
copy. These towels aren't quite so big.

He slides his bathing suit off from underneath and hangs it over the locker
door. He rubs the towel into his butt and crotch to dry off.

Then he pulls a pair of white briefs out of the pocket of his sweats. I
guess he had them the whole time. I realize I didn't bring underwear.

I watch as Coach steps into his tighty-whities and pulls them up under his
towel. Then he whips his towel off and hangs it around his neck.

He's standing there in just tight white briefs. I can see the bulge of his
nuts, and the outline of his penis wrapping to one side. He turns to get
his sweatpants, and I can see the flexed arc of his butt cheeks from the
side.

He turns away from me and steps into his gray sweats. I watch them cover
his butt and how the briefs hug the crack down the middle of his ass. He
turns around and looks at me.

I slide my suit down and try to dry myself. I pull out my shorts and lay
them down. I reach into the locker for my shorts and slide them up. They
hang kind of loose, and I want to be careful about the zipper. I'm wishing
I wore something a little different or at least thought about underwear
this morning.

I turn around like Coach did. The towel comes off as I'm fumbling. My ass
is kind of hanging out at the back, uncovered. I push my dick in with my
fingers and pull the shorts up high, so when I zip up there's no
unfortunate accident.

I turn and face Coach, who now has his shirt on. We're about a foot away
from each other. My smooth, soft skin is clean from the chlorine and
shower. I'm only wearing a pair of tan cargo shorts that sag a bit. The
waist is down on my hips. There's about four inches between my bellybutton
and the shorts. The soft fabric hangs over my dick, and drapes over my butt
in the back. I'm thinking about Coach's briefs.

Coach taps me on the stomach with the back of his hand, gently. "You okay?"
he says. I guess I zoned out a bit there.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I say, pulling my shirt on and sitting down next to him
to get my shoes on.

"See?" he says. "Locker rooms are a little weird, but they're no big deal."


More to come