Date: Tue, 6 Nov 2012 23:29:33 -0500
From: quest47484748 <quest47484748@gmail.com>
Subject: Massage by Wrestling Team Coach part 2 Adult/Youth Athletics

Massage By My Wrestling Coach
part 2
by
quest47484748

I didn't jerk off for days after the coach forced the biggest load ever out
of my dick ever at the end of my massage. I could have blasted a load if
necessary (like if the coach wanted to see shoot) but it would have taken
twice as long as usual and only half as pleasurable. Still, most of the
days before resuming my regular three times a day routine (morning,
afternoon & bedtime) I spent half hard thinking about how good my ass felt
with the coach's finger in it and how long until I could feel it again.
Invariably and without even thinking about it my right hand during these
trips down memory land would drift to my crotch and gently cup my junk and
give it gentle squeeze or two; the same move I had observed in my teammates
on my way to be rubbed and groped by the coach for the first time. It
happened so naturally that I didn't notice it was happening until people
not on the team brought it to my attention, either by staring to see what I
might do next or friends and strangers asking me why I was posed like a
urban rapper. Once aware of it I managed to do it only around my fellow
team members. I assumed that none of us ever spoke to each other (and never
would have even hinted at it to anyone else) for the same reasons I never
did.

The massage table was the equivalent of a private party boat for one
passenger that took you an a ride that lasted an hour, seemed custom
designed for your personal maximum enjoyment, ending with a day's load of
fresh cum being forcibly ejected from your nuts; briefly: loose lips sink
ships. The other reason was two fold made of up the fact that there was no
need to while there were many excellent reasons not to and the underlying
feeling felt by the entire team that to ever speak of it in detail out loud
(and who wouldn't want every dick spasming, precum creating lust coated
detail) to anyone else would produce a boner so hard they'd have to excuse
themselves right aways or risk soaking their pants in minutes with a fresh
load and embarrassing themselves in public, and out of all possible social
faux pas cumming in public would be one of the more difficult ones to
emerge through unscathed and/or unscrewed. I wasn't worth the risk.

The reason why they thought this was more than likely was due to the after
effects of each team members time on the table. Orgasms became more intense
with an noticeable increase in load size (too much to dry overnight in a
sock or pair of tighty whities); some guys dealt with the mess by just
aiming the head of their dicks at their open mouth and swallowing the messy
evidence (I'm not a big fan of cum so I made other plans). And each guy got
way better at choosing the time to shoot his load. A couple of hours of
edging while jacking off use to be my limit before the coach invaded me
like Hitler did Poland. My first post massage jack off session lasted over
twice as long as usual and I felt I could have still been on working on my
first load at dawn but I needed my sleep. I feel that these effects were
shared by my teammates because we were a bonded group that vibrated as a
whole with the frequency that cums from a powerful share erotic experience
that would follow us throughout the rest of our lives, rock hard and
leaking even at the very end. And there tell tale signs I noticed on the
morning bus ride to school unique to my teammates.

Nobody had morning wood no matter how close they came to missing the bus
(having no time to rub one out before getting dressed and running out of
the house at top speed it used to be a sight so common it ceased to be
mentioned even in jest). And it was widely known (the coach overheard from
the front of the bus) from horny conversations during rides for meets at
other high schools that all of jerked off in bed before getting up. The
tyranny of morning wood required it because if you could manage to piss
with it rock it hard you it just wouldn't go soft until cum shot out of it.
Fortunately after hours of being hard and your dick rubbing against your
pants or underwear it only took a few strokes at the urinal to get off and
get back to business as usual. I've never had an ounce of doubt that the
rest of team had the same experience the morning after their first massage
from the coach that I will share with you now.

The following Wednesday evening at bedtime found me sufficiently recovered
to enjoy spending a few hours working up a great sleep inducing orgasm but
I decided to wait until morning and set the alarm 30 minutes early so I'd
be sure to have enough to time to cum long and hard before it was time to
get up and dressed for school. I woke up five minutes before the alarm went
off. One hand went to shut it off while the other one began stroking my
hard dick, precum bubbling up like Old Faithful with bladder control
issues. Right aways I noticed that jacking off felt way better now than it
ever had in the past. Instead of building up to a plateau of pleasure to
surf I found my self instantly on the edge of cumming while while being in
total control of when I came. Suddenly I wished I had set the clock back an
hour or two. I felt alive with pleasure from scalp of my head all the way
down to my toes that flexed from the waves of energy spreading out from the
launch pad of mission control where I had total control when lift off
happened. Every stroke felt as good as the last one that brings on the cum
spray and it was only the promise of even greater thrills that made me stop
long enough to slide on my still damp and funky jock strap before lying
face down on my full sized bed to duplicate the position I was in under the
coach. The only difference was that my hands grabbed at the corner of the
bed to hold me steady because I knew I was going to cum like never before
and didn't want to fly off the bed from wild and unexpected muscle spams
while coating the walls of my bedroom with semen like a lawn sprinkler.

I soaked the sheet (and mattress!) beneath me during the next half hour of
due to a steady flow from the head of my throbbing dick, completely still
most of the time due to the new found ability to move waves of sexual
pleasure around my body like a rubber duck in a bath. Grinding my hard dick
into the soggy mess below me was an option rather than a necessity to
achieve full release. When I had five minutes and thirty seconds left I
began the count down for my cum launcher. Surprising me almost as much as
the new intensity of orgasm and volume increase in my loads  (it even
smelled better) was that the countdown was no different from the ones I had
had in kitchen while baking weed brownies (the coach likes to watch his get
decorated with a fresh load of wrestlers cum before wolfing it down and
smacking his lips; after we won state the team surround a pan of fresh
brownies made for the coach and sprayed out loads all over the top, I'm not
sure but I thought I might have seen a tear in the corner of his eye while
he told it that it was one of the nicest gifts that he had ever gotten and
that he had just soaked a fresh jock with fresh load at the thought of
biting into the first one). Just like when cooking I could just set and
forget it. Until it went off.

With five minutes left on the clock I spent at least one them thrashing
around on the bed shooting so much cum I had to turn the mattress over and
the smell of my load hung in the air for weeks, strongest when I was laying
on the bed. One second I way lying still oozing precum and the next my dick
swelled up and started pumping shot after shot of cum into my jock and my
knees shot up under me duplication my pose when the coach forced out my
load. Instead of being exhausted I was energised and even made to the bus
stop earlier with many minutes to spare. When I took my seat among my
teammates at the back of the bus in stead of my usual crossed ankle on leg
position I spread my knees apart resting my wrist on my upper thigh so I
could cup my nuts. Every other guy on the team was doing the exact same
thing and acting like nothing was out of the ordinary.

In the weeks that followed I began to remember orgasms I had forgotten
because they happened over a decade ago. I've remembered two so far and
what they both have in common is that the relative I was with came at the
same time I did.

The first memory dated back to when I was still small enough to comfortable
sleep on my dad's chest without waking him up. He loved waking up and
finding me lying on top of him asleep and since he was a sound sleeper it
was easy for me to climb on top of him and settle down for a nap without
waking him up. He was always radiator warm and since he always went
commando at home my small foot always rested on his stretched out half hard
dick that lay along the inside of his thigh. Maybe I was walking in my
dreams and that's the reason that more often than not my dad would wake up
to the sensation of my sleeping foot rubbing up and down on his now rock
hard dick seconds away from blasting a load down to his ankles and soaking
his pant leg from mid thigh down. All the men from my dad's side of the
family have shared many tales of waking of waking up in places other than
bed seconds aways from emptying their nuts (I wondered if it had ever
happened during a boring movie) so his default response was to meld into it
like Spock to Kirk. This led to him stretching out to prepare his body for
the blast of pleasure moments away and holding the source of his pleasure
just a little snugger moving one hand down to cup a tiny ass cheek and rest
a digit at the similar sized rose bud to feel its contractions. Between my
dad stretching and his dick trying to escape from his pants I would wake up
also seconds away from (dry) cumming. I could feel his load soak through
and dampen naked toes and feeling that always pushed me over the edge right
away.

The other time was with one of dad's brothers as we were saying goodbye at
a family reunion. In honor of it being my seventh birthday he insisted I
spend some time seated in his lap while he told me stories about his cum
soaked younger days when he and my dad used to strip naked after getting
home from school and staying that way until their dad got home from work.
My dad's brothers (and his father) never wore underwear so I knew I'd have
my uncles hard dick wedged between my ass cheeks and had a great time when
he tickled me forcing me to move my tight young ass all over his hard dick.
After half an hour of this sweet torture started saying his goodbyes and
asked me to walk him to the door for one last birthday hug. It was only the
integrity of the jock under my satin basketball shorts I wore that hid how
turned and close to cumming I was when I escorted my uncle to the front
door. Thanks to a recent growth spurt for the first time our crotches
matched up when we embraced. As we put our arms around each other I was
getting ready to discreetly hump his leg and maybe orgasm in secret since I
was still having dry orgasms. The heat exchange from our throbbing rods
made that plan moot because the moment our dicks touched, separated by only
by two thin layers of fabric, stream after stream of hot cum gushed from
our dicks instantly covering the front of my shorts with with a large dark
stain that had rapidly soaked through my jock and a long oval one down my
uncle's pant leg. As he left he told me that all the men his family started
making cum at a very early age and that the force was strong in me.

Maybe it was the force that caused the coach to pick me to help with the
beta testing of a massage that would take half the time and with twice the
results. We would take our place on either side of the wrestler lying down
on the massage table and using a special blend of warmed oils formulated to
speed recovery duplicate each others rubs and stroke on the turned on
wrestler below. The time would draw lots to see who got to go first. The
coach told me he wanted me to be naked under my shorts or singlet and to
experience the outline of my hard dick as a source of pride and joy to be
admired or even worshiped. Fuck!, after that pep talk talk went commando
everywhere and didn't care who looked or what comment they made. And
instead of removing our jocks when we took off the wrestlers we would get
naked as soon he was faced down with his head in the donut facing the floor
allowing our hard dicks to swing free underneath the table ready to cum
when we forced the wrestler that lay between us to soak his cum towel at
the end of his massage.

After the last guy had been massaged by the coach our team won state,
nationals and every meet after that until we graduated and went our
separate ways cumming back once a year in the fall for beer and free form
wrestling with a focus on giving your forcing your opponent to cream his
jock, our only article of clothing.

Decades later during dinner one fall evening I came in my pants when my
then teen aged son told me that he had made the wrestling team and wanted
me to show him some "moves" after dinner. We both cupped our nuts while
arranging a time to visit the the local sports store and buy him his first
jock strap, size extra large.

The End.