Date: Fri, 1 Mar 2002 15:08:31 EST
From: NashvilleMascMan@aol.com
Subject: My Early Sexual History...My Coach and I

This is based upon the truth, but for obvious reasons, places, dates, names
and circumstances have been altered.


My Early Sexual History...My Coach and I


In the fall of 1970, my Mom and I moved to a small town in the mountains of
Virginia where she had taken a teaching position at a small college.  I was
very sorry to be leaving my old school and friends.  I was thirteen and in
the eighth grade. Dad was still in the Navy and overseas, so it was the two
of us, on our own. The school year had already begun when we moved to town,
and I hated the attention being a transfer student was bringing.  Even though
I was an active kid, and loved the company of my peers, being introduced in
every class as a 'new boy' embarrassed me.

My heart sank also when I discovered that my homeroom and first period would
be boy's gym class.  Having to take PE that early in the morning was a
disappointment; I would have preferred it to be later in the day.  Tennis was
my thing at that time, and I was shocked to find that it wasn't even offered
in this little mountain town school. I was beginning to think my mother had
made a mistake in coming to this backward place.

But my dislike for the situation was put aside when I met Coach Black.  He
was the friendliest gym coach I had ever encountered. Up until then, my
experience of coaches had been terrifying.  They were all gruff and mean, and
just no fun at all.  Coach Black seemed different, even though he was pretty
fearsome looking to a little boy of thirteen. I guessed him to be about
thirty years old. He stood over six feet and had the biggest chest and arms I
had encountered on anyone in the days before everybody began to lift weights.
His forearms were nearly black with hair, and his hands seemed huge and
thick.  He had a big, firm jaw and seemed to have a five o'clock shadow even
at eight in the morning.  There was a little bundle of curly chest hair
sticking out of the neck of his shirt.  His dark hair was cut into a flat
top, which I thought was the squarest looking thing.  Everyone was wearing
their hair longer at that time, and the only guys who didn't were either
military or hard-nosed conservatives.  Coach Black's outgoing nature and
dimpled smile dispelled any negative effect from his close-cropped locks.
But the most noticeable thing about him was his eyes.  They were a deep
cobalt blue and seemed to pierce right through me when he spoke to me.

Math was a dreadful subject for me, the source of many hours of frustration.
So it was a relief when I discovered that Coach Black was also going to be my
math teacher in third period.  He really seemed popular with the kids and his
teaching style was breezy and fast paced.  A kid from math class sat down
with me at lunch and told me that Coach used to be a Marine, but that he got
wounded in Vietnam and got out of the service.  He said that Coach was
everybody's favorite teacher; but that he'd wear you out if you got in
trouble and that he did all the paddling for all the boys in the school. I
had never had a spanking in my life, and I certainly wasn't planning to get
one from that big brute!  But he was so easygoing, it was hard for me to
imagine him being very rough.

Within a month or so, everything fell in place for me, and I became
comfortable in my new surroundings.  I had a little motorbike, so I got in
with some other kids who liked to ride trails and goof around the old
abandoned rock quarry near my house.  But sometime before Halloween, I had a
little accident.  We were jumping and learning to do flips on a trampoline,
and I fell across the side rail and wrenched my back.  Coach Black came right
over and was really helpful and concerned.  But my back was messed up for a
while.

The doctor thought it best that I sit out PE for until my back was better,
and Coach suggested I help out in the locker room while I recovered.  I was
eager to do it because I thought he was swell.  He assigned me some easy
tasks to do during class, and within a couple of weeks he asked if I would
like to help out more. He said he liked the way I did things so neatly that
he'd like for me to be his regular assistant.  Naturally, I was glad to have
the chance. It made me feel special.  So, I began to help out with his filing
and record keeping, and around the sporting equipment and laundry rooms.
Every afternoon after school, I reported to his office, he assigned tasks,
and left to coach ball practice.  Before long, I established a routine.  When
I finished my tasks, I would sit down at Coach's desk, and work on my
troublesome math homework. When he returned from team practice, he would
often sit and tutor me a little, before giving me a lift home.  I liked the
whole arrangement, because I enjoyed the attention he gave me.  By Christmas,
I was an old pro.  He gave me a new tennis racket and told me he would take
me to the courts at the college to play sometime.  He was my absolute hero.

After the Christmas break, I began to accompany the basketball team to games,
acting as general flunky, and Coach's assistant. But most of the time I
confined my activities to the locker room. Coach had a shower stall in his
office, which I had never seen him use.  Most days, he would return to his
office, help me a little and we would leave out. But one afternoon, I heard
him shouting at the basketball team as they showered after practice. When
everyone else had left, he came in sweatier than usual.  He seemed grouchy
and irritable.

"I'm gonna clean up before I help you today, because I'll stink you out if I
don't," he said, and proceeded to strip with his back turned.

I watched him pull his wet shirt off over his head and drop it to the floor.
He pushed his shoes off with his toes and slipped his socks off. Then he slid
his hands down his hips and stepped out of his shorts and jock strap, leaving
everything in a little pile on the floor.  I noticed his big hairy legs and
butt and that he had a patch of hair across his shoulders.  There was also a
big scar in the middle of his back near his spine.  He stepped into the
stall, pulled the curtain and I heard the water come on.  I tried to turn my
attention back to my math, but I was too aroused and curious to think about
it. I looked at his sweaty clothes and could see his jock strap lying inside
his shorts on top.  I was fascinated with everything about him, so I got up,
went over and picked his things up off the floor.  They were very damp and I
sniffed at them cautiously.  There was a faint odor of sweat, mingling with
the familiar scent of Old Spice and Right Guard deodorant.  It reminded me of
my dad and I realized how much I missed him.  Suddenly the sound of the water
shut off, and I dropped the clothes where I found them.

"Get me a towel, would ya, Jimmy?" he shouted in his baritone voice.
I scurried over and brought a towel back, and thrust it behind the curtain,
but before he took it, Coach pushed back the curtain.  There he stood in his
entire masculine splendor, dripping wet. I handed him the towel and turned
away to return to his desk, pretending not to notice.  But my young heart
raced, and my throat went dry.

"You about done with those problems?" he inquired as he dried himself.
"Well, there are a couple I'm not getting," I said, deliberately looking at
my book.
"Let me see."

I looked up as he wrapped the towel around his waist, and noticed just how
very hairy he was.  He walked over, and sat down in his desk chair.  As he
began to examine what I was struggling with, he asked a couple of questions,
and leaned forward to grab a pencil.  Then a miraculous thing happened: his
towel fell open.  My eyes immediately dropped to his crotch, and he saw me
look.  But instead of covering up, he just grinned, stretched back and folded
his big hands behind his head.

"You never saw a grown man before?" he inquired.
"No, sir," I croaked.
"So, this is what you've got to look forward to someday."

I wasn't lying.  My own family members were so modest, I had never seen any
naked people except for other guys in the locker rooms, not even my dad.
Coach's dick seemed enormous and thick to me.  It was lying over to the side
revealing his sack and balls, all hairy and still damp from the shower. His
narrow waist and tight abs added to the effect of great size.  I swallowed
hard, but my mouth was totally dry.  My own boy dick strained in my shorts.
He kind of chuckled, and wrapped the towel back around himself, and drew his
attention back to the homework.  But I was so distracted and nervous, I
couldn't hear what he was saying to me.  In a while, he got up and dressed in
street clothes and we went to the car.

On way home, he chatted and kidded me as usual, but I was still pretty shaky.
 I suppose he noticed it, because when we got to my house he suddenly grew
serious, which was unusual for him.

"Jimmy, I've got to ask you something."
"Yes, sir?"
"Jimmy, whatever you do, please promise me you won't tell anybody what
happened back there. I think I made a mistake.  I was in a mood this
afternoon."
"Oh, no sir," I answered, "I promise."

I didn't know what he meant when he said he was in a mood, but I was anxious
to get out of the car and into my house.  I quickly said good night, and
scooted inside.

That night after I turned out the lights, I continued to think about what had
happened.  It made my dick hard to think about it, but it also made me feel
very nervous.  I was a very sheltered kid, tall for my age but still a little
boy in my head in many ways. I had come into puberty at twelve, and was
accustomed to playing with myself, but didn't know anything about sex, except
dumb references other kids made to it at school.  But the thought of seeing
Coach naked excited me.  It made me feel so good to be around him, but the
way he would look into my eyes when he spoke to me made me feel embarrassed
sometimes.

As time went by, nothing else happened like the events of that day.  Coach
seemed normal to me, and everything seemed to be fine.  Then one day in the
early spring, he asked me if I liked fishing.  My dad taught me to fish as a
youngster, and I liked being around lakes and streams. So I jumped at the
chance.

"We'll go to Hungry Mother Park this weekend, if your Mom says okay," he
offered, "just you and me."

I was thrilled.  He called my Mom at work, and she gave her permission.
Coach loaned me a backpack, and Mom and I packed it with everything I'd need
for the trip.
Saturday morning rolled around slowly that week, and I could barely contain
myself in anticipation.  When the big day arrived, Coach pulled up in his big
old Chevy before sun up, and we headed south for the lake.

After a stop for breakfast at a diner, we went on to the lake and fished
until we were hungry again.  We talked quietly as we let our lines out into
the water, reeling them back in slowly.  Sometimes we just sat and looked out
over the still lake.  The early May sky was bright and clear: it was a
perfect day in every respect.

I was thrilled that we had caught enough fish to make a meal. Coach suggested
that we scout out a place to set up camp and cook some grub before we
actually pitched our tent.  I had never been camping, per se.  My family
preferred fishing from houseboats, so I was never exposed to 'roughing it'
like that.  We found a nice secluded spot at the edge of the woods where we
could catch a glimpse of the water.  At that time of the year, there were few
campers around, so we had the run of the place.  Coach and I hauled the
equipment from his car.  I was in pretty good shape for my age, but lugging
heavy stuff down the trail made me break a real sweat.

I was used to the mildly disgusting process of cleaning fish, but I mostly
sat back and watched him make easy work of it.  Everything Coach did totally
interested me, and I watched and listened intently as he described the
details of campsite cookery. He had brought a little Coleman stove with us,
with everything we might need, and he seemed adept at putting together a
great meal.

After we ate, Coach instructed me as we sat up the tent.  He said he thought
we'd be okay to stow our equipment in the tent and go down to the bathhouse
to shower up and change into clean clothes.  My mind immediately turned to
that day when I saw Coach shower and saw his handsome private parts, and my
heart began to pound.  We carried everything we needed to the bath house,
when we arrived I was relieved to see the individual stalls, because I was
erect by then, anticipating another glimpse of Coach's beautiful body.  I
certainly didn't want him to see me that way.  Coach stripped down the way he
had that day at school, with his back turned.  I couldn't keep my eyes off of
him, so I dilly-dallied around until he stepped into a stall. Then I selected
one down the way, to avoid being seen with a hard on.

We returned to our campsite just as the sun began to lower behind the trees.
We gathered up some sticks and pinecones and built a nice fire.  The moon
rose over the water and was nearly full.  The cloudless sky provided a cool,
crisp evening.  We sat beside the fire and talked about school and the lake
and travel experiences.  Coach drank a couple of cold beers from the cooler
and I nursed a bottle of Coke.  There was a little lull in the conversation
as we looked into the fire.  I squatted and poked at the fire with a stick as
Coach rifled through the ice for another cold one. When he returned, he sat
down and crossed his legs and held his brown beer bottle in my direction.

"Here, have a sip," he said, pushing the bottom rim into my shoulder.
"Thanks!" I said, eagerly turning and taking it from him. I turned it up to
my lips and took a deep swig.  It tasted bitter and slightly sweet.  "I never
tasted beer, but my dad lets me taste his wine when he's home."
"Do you miss your dad, Jimmy?" he inquired.
I looked down at the ground.  I missed my dad lots, but I didn't allow myself
to think about it much. "Sure.  I miss him."
"Well, I guess it's kind of hard on you and your Mom, you know?"
"Oh, sure.  We do okay, she's great to me," I replied, but I was suddenly
feeling sad.  I really did miss my dad. I took another sip of the beer and
handed it back to Coach.
"You know, Jimmy, I've been thinking.  You and I have become real pals, you
know?"
"Oh, yes sir, I think so," I said, now feeling suddenly more upbeat.
"Jimmy, if you promise not to show it off in front of anyone, why don't you
just call me Jim from now on?  It's easy, since it's the same as yours."

I was elated, and I forgot all about missing my dad.  "Sure, if that's okay."
"And you don't need to call me Sir, unless we're in front of people from
school, is that a deal?"
"Yes, sir, Jim!" I said.  It felt awkward saying his name. He laughed.
"Now cut that out!" he said, as he reached his big paw out and tickled me on
my ribs.

I was so proud and excited that Coach let me call him by his first name.  I
felt that he really liked me as a person.  I was basking in the glow of the
fire and my big hero, Jim Black.

"Jimmy, you know, when I was on the phone to your Mom, she asked me to talk
to you about something."  He seemed serious.
"What?"
"Well, Jimmy, she wanted me to talk to you about girls and stuff she wouldn't
be comfortable talking with you about."
"Okay...you mean sex?" I asked.
"Yes, sex."
"I already know some things about it, I guess."  I felt a wave of
embarrassment rush over me.
"Well, I'm sure you do, but I want you to know the facts, as opposed to what
you hear from the kids at school."
"Okay," I said.  My prick lurched in my sweat pants.  I was relieved that
they were so bulky.  I would have died to let Coach see that I was hard.

He asked me questions about whether I knew this or that, and proceeded to
fill all the blanks in my knowledge.  He was really very good at explaining
everything in adult terms. Even though I came into puberty at twelve, by
thirteen I had to shave a little every other morning, but I was totally
ignorant about my body otherwise.  I had experienced sexual pleasure and
erections from playing with myself, but that's as far as it went.  The whole
subject made my mouth go dry and my heart race.  And hearing Coach talk about
it made me feel nervous and lightheaded.  When he explained about
ejaculation, he asked me if I had ever had one.

"No.  At least I guess I haven't," I said in all honesty.
"Well, if you had, you would have known it," he chuckled.
The whole exchange sort of frightened me.  I didn't feel excited when I
thought about intercourse, but just to hear him talk about it was thrilling.

Coach opened another beer.  "This is going to be my nightcap," he said, and
began to yawn deeply.  The evening air began to get cooler, but there was no
wind.  Every once in a while we heard an owl or some far off animal.  I liked
the smell of the fire and the contrast of cool and hot sitting in front of it
made.  I was curious to know more about him.  I had fancied what it would be
like if he was my dad, even though he really wasn't old enough to be.  So I
used the feeling of intimacy I felt as an opportunity to find out more.

"Jim, have you ever been married?"
"Well, almost, once. But Vietnam got in the way, and it didn't happen."
"Somebody told me that you got wounded over there."
"Oh, yeah.  That's true.  I got shot," he explained.
"Really?  Where?" I asked, but I already knew.  That's what that big scar on
his back was about.  But I didn't want him to know I had noticed it.
"One of the guys in our platoon made a mistake and shot me in the back."
"Wow, was it bad?"
"Bad enough to get me out of there.  You wanna see my scar?"
"Can I?" I asked.
"Sure, here. Look."  He pushed his sweatshirt up from the waist.  He turned
around and slumped forward. "Nasty scar, huh?"
"Oh, yeah.  Does it hurt?"
"No, not now, but sometimes I get really bad backaches there," he replied.
I wanted to reach out and touch it, but I didn't dare.
"So, do you have a girlfriend, Jim?"
"Not now.  But I'd like to meet a nice girl sometime and settle down.  Have a
nice kid like you." He reached out and tousled my hair. At that moment I
certainly wanted him to be my dad.
"Jim, have you ever, you know, had sex with a girl?"
"Well, sure, Jimmy.  Guys get opportunities now and then." He chuckled.
"How do you know when it's gonna happen."
"Believe me, Jimmy, you'll know," he said with a grin and a wink.

I was feeling sleepy, and Coach was beginning to show signs of the four
beers.
"How about we turn in, old man?," he said.
"Which sleeping bag is mine?" I asked as I began to crawl through the opening
of the tent.
"Here, let me get some light," he said, picking up a big flashlight.

He pushed by me on his hands and knees and went through the opening.  The
tent was fairly spacious, not quite tall enough for Coach to stand up in
fully, but plenty of room for our two bags and our two backpacks.  Jim zipped
up the door, and helped me unroll my bag before he spread his own out.

"You got plenty of clothes on?," he asked.
"I think so," I said, as I pulled off my sneakers.
Well, get in there and shut your eyes," he chortled, "morning comes early up
here."  He zipped up my bag and gave my shoulder a pat. "Goodnight," he said.
"Goodnight, Jim."

He turned out the flashlight and I heard him zip up his sleeping bag.  I
closed my eyes, but sleep wouldn't come.  I was still charged up about the
sex talk and the whole wonderful day.  I laid there for what seemed an
eternity.  It was now getting cooler in the tent, and I felt a little chilly.
 I rose up and unzipped my bag, and began to rummage around for a sweater in
my backpack.  Jim stirred and suddenly turned on the flash light.

"What's wrong?" he asked.
"I need to get my sweater," I replied.
"Are you too cold?"
"Yeah, a little."
"Well, why don't we do this: we could zip the bags together," he asked,
"There's room for us both, and we can stay warmer."
I crawled over and watched as he made the two bags into one.  Then obeying
his suggestion, I slid in and he told me to roll over on my side.  He slid
his large frame in beside me with his chest to my back.
"This'll work, I think," he said as he wriggled around a little.  He reached
and turned out the light and then wrapped his muscular arm around my skinny
rib cage, and pulled me up close.

I was so excited to have him that close to me.  I could smell the beer on his
breath as it hit my neck, sending shivers down my back.  I sprung a big hard
on.  Of course, I still had trouble sleeping, but I laid still.  In a little
while, Coach shifted his body a little and I felt a bulge pressing into my
buttocks. I scooted away a little, but there was no room to move, and his
embrace trapped me.  I shifted a little more.
"Jimmy, are you awake?" Coach asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Jimmy, you know, there's something else I forgot to tell you about sex."
"What's that?," I asked, once again feeling my mouth turn as dry as a desert.
I swallowed hard.
"Have you ever heard of masturbation?"
"No, I don't think so," I fibbed.  I had heard of it, but I wanted him to
tell me about it anyway.
"Well, some guys call it jacking off...you ever heard of that?"
"Yeah, I guess."  I was shaking, but I didn't want him to know it. "What does
that mean?"
"Well, that's when you take care of things when you're horny...sexually
aroused and nobody's around."
"What do you mean?  How do you know if you're horny?" I queried.
"You just know it.  You feel like you need to have an ejaculation and then
you make yourself come...you know what that means don't you?"
"Yeah, I guess. How do you do it, Jim?"
"Well, you take your dick in your hand and move it up and down."
"Like what?  I don't understand."

I was being honest.  I had made myself feel so good playing with my dick in
bed before I fell asleep, but I had never jacked off the way he was talking
about.

"Well, Jimmy, I guess the only way to tell you is to show you how."

My heart raced wildly.  I couldn't believe what I had just heard. He reached
and turned on the flashlight again and slid out of the sleeping bag.

"Here, get out of the bag," he ordered.  "Why don't you pull your shirt and
pants off?"

I slowly obeyed and pulled my sweatshirt off, but I was horrified because I
was so aroused and he would see me that way.  I left my pants on.  I felt the
cool night air on my back and combined with the situation at hand I began to
shiver.  Then he slipped his own sweatshirt off and rolled onto his back.  He
pushed his sweat pants down, and I saw his enormous dick, fully rigid.  He
slipped them off and threw them aside. "Come on, Jimmy, it's okay." he said.

I slowly pushed my sweat pants down and pulled them off my feet.  I sat down
and crouched to hide my nakedness.  My head was swimming.  He smiled and
folded one of his giant arms behind his head, stroking his cock lightly with
his other hand.

He looked me over and said, "It's okay, Jimmy, this is a natural thing...you
don't need to be scared."  He reached out and took hold of my arm.  "Come up
here so you can see."

He pulled me up and deposited me straddleing his muscular thigh.  His body
seemed even larger than ever.  His thigh was as solid as a log and his chest
hair was so dense that in the dimness it seemed I couldn't see any skin.

"Boy, looka there!  You've got a pretty good size dick, for a young man."
"You think so?" I managed to say.
"Oh, yeah, really.  You ever measured it?"
"No, sir."
"No what?"
"I mean, no, Jim."
He smiled.  "Well, I've got seven inches, why don't you slide up here and
compare?"

I obeyed and slid my groin right up to his.  He reached over and squeezed our
dicks together.  I noticed how cool and wet his crotch was.  His pubic hair
was matted with moisture and it curled into tiny black ringlets.

"See there?  You're almost as long as me, but not as big around, probably six
inches.  You're gonna be bigger than me when you're grown!"

The sensation was intoxicating.  His cock was throbbing and hard veins were
popping out around the sides.  It seemed so big next to mine. The head of his
was tapered and smooth and I could see the line where he had been
circumcised.

"I see they didn't circumcise you," he said
"No, I guess not."
"Well, good for you!"

Suddenly, he let go and I slid back to my perch.  I was almost breathless.
"Well, Jimmy, let me show you how to do this," he said.  He resumed fingering
his meat lightly.  "You know, this feels better with some lotion. Reach and
get that bottle out of my pack," he said.

I scurried around to rifle through his bag and I located a bottle of Jergins.
I handed it to him and he squeezed a big glob of the lotion onto his hand.
Then he slapped it around his dick and let out a moan as he massaged it in.
"Boy, that feels good, you want some?"
"Sure!" I replied.  My excitement was building and building. He grabbed the
bottle again and squeezed out another big glob into his hand and then clamped
it around my throbbing pecker.  I yelped a little.
"Cold?"  He asked.  He stared at me directly, but I averted his gaze and
looked down at his hand.
"A little." I whispered.
"Well, rub it in!" he said. He let go of me and resumed lightly stroking
himself. "How does that feel?"
"Oh, really good!" I replied breathlessly.
"Now do what I do."

He wrapped his big paw around his meat and began to jack himself slowly. I
imitated his action and it sent waves of pleasure through my groin and body.
I watched him as his abdomen flexed and I felt his hips and legs tighten.  He
thrust his pelvis forward and back slowly and rhythmically.  He speeded up
his strokes.

"Okay, Jimmy, beat it off, boy!"  He began to flail at his cock wildly.
"Faster, faster!"

I speeded up, but I felt out of control.  Everything started to spin and my
right hand lurched.  I wrapped my left hand around the right to steady it and
beat off very fast and hard.  I could hear Coach groaning and I felt him
stiffen beneath me.  I felt a hot searing sensation building in my cock. My
body jerked in spasms as I felt a wave of pleasure rise from my pelvis and up
to my chest. Then I watched as Coach let out a loud growl and spewed a stream
of juice that hit his chin.  He jerked and gasped for breath as he continued
to squirt long streams of gizm.  My own boy cock erupted, and I blasted a
sheet of thick white jelly on Jim's chest and abdomen. "Atta, boy, Jimmy,
atta boy!" Coach exhorted.  It seemed to go on and on.

It was begun and finished so quickly. I sort of blacked out, but felt the
rush of my first orgasm continue to make me writhe in absolute pleasure.  I
must have either fallen forward or Coach pulled me down on top of him.  But
when I came back to my senses, he had his arms wrapped around me.  We lay
very still, and I could feel the pool of come we had just deposited between
our bellies.  I felt drained and weak.  Before I knew what was happening I
began to sob.  I felt so overwhelmed.

"Oh, no, buddy, no, no," Coach murmured, as he began to rock me.  "Please
don't be upset." Between sobs I managed to say, " I'm not."
"But, why are you crying? You just feel out of it?"
I nodded.
"Well, ol' Jim's here...just relax," he cooed as he began to rock me gently.

He was very kind and gentle.  I felt so warm and cared for I forgot all about
the temperature in the tent.  In a little while, I felt really sleepy and
Coach rolled me off of himself.  He grabbed a towel and mopped the now cold
semen off my belly and chest.  He looked at me tenderly.  "Better get
dressed, Jimmy, you'll catch cold," he said.  I put my sweats back on and
climbed down into the sleeping beg.  Coach dried himself off and soon
followed.  I rolled away from him on my side, but he rolled over and pulled
me in close.  I soon drifted off into a deep and blissful sleep.

What happened after that is another story.

Jim Vickers