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From: Incest Man <incestman@graffiti.net>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.hetero,alt.sex.stories.d
Subject: story: "HIGH SCHOOL SEX" (mm, gay)
Date: Mon, 15 Jan 2007 11:09:35 -0800
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===================
http://www.incesttabooo.com/hschool.html
HIGH SCHOOL SEX
They didn't seem a likely pair, these two high school
boymen who were giving each other pleasure on the locker
room bench.
It was after 6 PM, and they had sneaked in to steal their
furtive moments of pleasure. When they were done, they
would sneak out, act like their straight friends and stay
hard until they were able to do it again.
It was the second time they had met, and they had not
become too adventuresome, not even approaching the
fantasies that their minds had been turning over since they
each learned (years before) that thinking about boys made
them harder and feel better than thinking about girls ever
could. When they were sure that they were alone, they
embraced one another and were once again struck by how
right their mouths felt, and they wrestled with their
tongues kissing eyes, cheeks, lips, neck and thus inflamed
their passion. The two athletes were now breathing as
heavily as during any workout and were straining against
their jocks and sweat shorts.
The only light was from the sunset outside that entered
from the high windows above. There was a misty quality to
the orange twilight, leftover from the parade of sweaty
bodies that had showered there earlier. The only sounds
would be the echoes of their groans and words of pleasure.
They sat down, face to face on a locker room bench.
Thankfully it was bolted to the floor so it could stand
their violent movements. Between continued mouth work and
crotch rubbing ("Oh, fuck! That feels great, Tim."), they
pulled off each other's shirts and licked off a layer of
perspiration while exploring each other pecs, pits, and
abdomens.
These boys were true specimens of youth. Tim was
definitely the finer of the two, with varsity letters in
both football and baseball. 6'1", 180 lbs., brown straight
hair, brown eyes, beautifully proportioned. His
fascination for guys had made him shy (how else could he
not be out fucking the cheerleaders?) Chris was a
basketball player, 6'4", 170 lbs. ("cute, but..." the
girls said). He was no Tim, but right now, charged with
sexual passion, the two appeared equals. As for the girls
who overlooked him, Chris, in his current position, would
have been the envy of them all.
Their upper bodies were smooth for the most part, save for
a trace of hair that led its way down to their crotches, a
road map to the grand prize. They interlocked their legs
and in a tight embrace humped their crotches together
grinding and groaning, echoing loudly in the otherwise
empty locker room. Tim broke the embrace and grabbed
Chris' knees and slide him away from him. "I'm hungry
Chris," Tim said in an almost trance like state. Tim then
grabbed the waistband of Chris' sweat shorts and slowly
pulled them down the basketball players long legs, pulling
them over his shoes and tossing the shorts aside. Tim then
pulled Chris halfway back towards him, reached forward and
liberated Chris' long, thin (like Chris) dick from the
jock, pushing the constraining pouch to one side. (For
some reason, they both liked to keep their jocks and shoes
on when getting off.)
When Tim touched the base of Chris' dick and fondled his
already tight balls, Chris gasped as a large flow of
pre-cum made its way out of his dick slit and dribbled down
the underside of his dick. Tim felt a surge of pre-cum in
his own dick but wanted to keep his meat constrained for
the time being. "Dinner time," said Tim laughing as he
lapped up the bead of pre-cum and licked his way up Chris'
ever-harder prick. Chris was almost in heaven and leaned
back and closed his eyes as Tim went to work.
Tim slicked up Chris' dick and ball sac with a generous
amount of saliva and alternated between steady long mouth
strokes and then gently sucking one then the other of
Chris' steamy balls. When Tim grabbed the base of Chris'
cock and started playing major head games on Chris' purple
helmet, Chris stopped him.
"I love what your doing, man. But I want us to shoot
together." With that said and a long kiss, Chris began
reciprocating. When he pulled down Tim's shorts, it looked
like Tim had creamed already. There was a huge wet spot
where the elastic band of his jock met the pouch, and when
Chris pulled the elastic back, a thousand ribbons of
pre-cum formed between the fabric and Tim's hairy crotch.
Chris was in love with Tim's balls. They were big and
firm, hotter than any he had seen in any magazine. Tim put
the wide elastic of the jock underneath Tim's balls and
started his slavish devotion. Tim liked his own balls too,
and sometimes would make himself cum simply by playing with
them.
Chris moved up to the thick prick that topped those
gorgeous balls and had a suckfest of his own, coaxing up
more and more pre-cum that he would in turn wipe all over
his face. Tim was getting close and the time for release
was at hand.
As they had done on their first meeting, they locked their
legs together and started jerking each other off
forcefully. Dick to dick, fist to fist, they were like one
unit of sexual energy. They were wet with sweat. Their
crotches were pools of pre-cum, sweat and saliva. Chris
started first, with Tim shooting a millisecond behind.
Their young balls churned out ropes of cum: Tim's first two
spasms splashed the underside of his chin; an arc of Chris'
cum filled a little pool above his collar bone. The
remaining spasms coated their chests, stomachs and
crotches. When they were both spent, they again embraced
tightly and their cum commingled in their embrace and the
sweet smell of their passion rose to their nostrils.
As they kissed, Chris and Tim were happy. Together they
had found fulfillment. Next time, perhaps they would move
on further into unexplored territory. Chris had awakened
the night before, cumming, in a dream of eating out Tim's
ass. Tim had similarly dreamed of Chris sitting on his
dick. But that was for next time.
Tim now stood up and stretched. He took his cum-soaked
jock off and used it as a cloth to wipe down his hot body.
He wouldn't wash it. Later, one whiff and he would be in
ecstasy. Chris cleaned up in a similar fashion. These
boys were whipped! They bent down and took off their shoes
and turned to head for the showers. After their first
liaison, the shower they took afterward, though only made
up of soapy massage and warm embrace, was almost as
powerful as the sex they had enjoyed.
Coach Miller was standing about six feet away when they saw
him. Needless to say, they were surprised. Coach Miller
was a fantasy object for every male or female at their high
school. He was 28, and when Tim considered the people he
knew that he'd like to fuck, Coach Miller was the one.
When Tim would try and wake up early, one thing that would
get him going would be to fantasize about Coach Miller. He
would get hard, get up, jerk off and start his day.
He wasn't thinking about that now. They both were
speechless.
Coach Miller looked pretty steely. "Chris, put your gear
back on and head home. Tim, go grab a towel. I want to
have a word with you in my office."
Tim went down and grabbed a gym towel that barely covered
him. With a look back, Chris headed out. Coach Miller
picked up Tim's jock and marched down to his office. He
dropped the jock down on his desk and sat down in his
chair. Tim stood there, nearly naked, but for some reason
felt he had a lot of power in the situation.
"Sit down, Tim. I've got some advice for you."
"So, you finally went for the big prize, eh Tim?" said
Coach somewhat mockingly. Tim wanted to pick up his cummy
jock that lay on the desk and wipe the smirk off Coach's
face with his cum.
Tim didn't know what Coach's game was. He always struck
him as eminently cool, not someone hurtful or judgmental.
Tim felt fine sitting there, half-covered with a towel and
the smell of sweat and cum rising off his young body.
Coach had come back from a run when he stumbled upon the
two boys in the locker room, and his hot 28 year-old frame
was glowing with perspiration. He was wearing a large,
loose-fitting tank top that was soaked with sweat. One
reason that Coach was such a fantasy object around the high
school was his hot body and the fact that he did not dress
as the traditional coach; no polyester shorts, shirt and
whistle with knee socks for Coach Miller. He was wearing
black lyra shorts that stopped a few inches above his
knees, short ankle socks and running shoes. He leaned back
in his chair; the sweaty tank top covered his crotch. Tim
wanted him.
"You know you could have anyone in this school, Tim.
You're 18, you've got the best body/looks combination here
and you're graduating in three months. Why are you wasting
your time with Chris?"
Tim was pissed. Who the fuck was Coach Miller to sit there
and comment on his choice of fuck-buddy? Did he know how
hard it is to hook up in high school with other guys? Tim
knew he wanted to fuck boys and he was beginning to come
into his own with that opinion. His shyness had always
held him back and was the excuse for why the hunky boy was
without female companionship. Tim was ready to drop his
shyness and get what he wanted out of life.
"You think I should be dating a cheerleader and dreaming of
copping a feel of tit and some drive-in and then going home
and jacking off thinking of how I rubbed her shoulder?
Fuck that, Coach. I don't know how much of what you saw
back there, but Chris and I were fucking each other and if
you can't deal with that, too bad."
Tim was a little surprised by the strength of his response.
Coach laughed.
"You weren't fucking, buddy boy, you were sucking each
other off and jacking off like a couple of 13-year old's.
You don't have the body of 13 year-old, so why do you act
like one?"
"Why do you expect me to do," he asked Coach. He propped
his foot up on the edge of Coach's desk. Coach had a full
view of Tim's crotch.
"For one thing, don't act like a precocious little fuck,
flashing me your dick. Stand up and drop that towel."
Tim sat there. "Stand up, kid and look at yourself in the
mirror. Do it!"
The last thing Tim wanted was a lecture about how he
shouldn't be wasting his time on fucking around with other
boys. He stood up in front of the mirror and dropped his
towel.
Coach stood behind him. "You're a beautiful man, Tim.
Like a statue, perfectly formed. Your feet, your calves,
thighs, cock, balls, torso, arms, face, hair. Turn around.
Your back, your ass. You have the body and looks to get
anything you want in life, and I don't want to see you
waste it." Coach's voice had a hypnotic quality.
"Here's a little news flash, Tim. I like fucking men, too.
And I mean really fucking. I won't fuck you; I'd like to,
but fucking a student is just a little too risky. I don't
want to see you waste your time. Embrace who you are and
start going for what you want. How did you hook up with
Chris? Did you stumble upon him jacking off and join him?"
"Pretty much," said Tim, feeling more and more the novice,
but happy to have someone to talk to.
"Why don't you go after Carl Thomas. He'd let you fuck him
in an instant."
Carl Thomas was a senior, a swimmer, and an adonis. Tim
was shocked by Coach's suggestion.
"Carl Thomas, the great seducer of women? Did you happen
to see him fucking around in the locker room too?"
"No," said Coach, but I've seen him look at you and trust
me: when I was in high school, secretly checking out the
guys, I learned all the tricks, and Carl wants you."
Tim's dick stirred at the thought of fucking Carl. One of
Tim's first overt homo acts was stealing a pair of Carl's
speedos and using them for serious jack off inspiration.
"So Tim. That's my assignment for you. Find yourself;
seduce Carl and get what you want out of your life. Don't
be shy because those around you won't accept what you are.
Find people who will accept you and then talk to me about
what's going on with you."
Tim and Coach would talk in the months ahead, but Tim had
his own agenda.
"Okay, Coach. On your advice, I'll try and fuck Carl, but
there's something else I want."
"Shoot," said Coach, gathering his stuff, getting ready to
leave.
"I want you to fuck me."
"No way, jocko. Too much trouble."
Tim spit into his hand and re-activated his cum-slicked
dick and immediately grew throbbingly hard. "How will I
know how to fuck Carl if I've never fucked or been fucked?
I want you Coach. You said you wanted me. Lift up your
shirt and show me that you're not hard and I'll go jack
off, alone, in the shower."
"Tim... I can't do that." Tim went for it and grabbed
Coach's tank top and was delighted to see a tree trunk
erection heavily constrained by coach's lyra shorts, topped
off by a large shiny pre-cum soaked area.
"Fuck yes," said Tim. Tim stroked his own cock and licked
the resultant pre-cum off of his hand.
"You want to do it, Tim. You really want me to fuck you,
with this?" Coach took of his shirt and grabbed his dick
through his shorts.
"Fuck yes, Coach. Fuck me with that!" Coach walked over
and locked his door. Tim stood there stroking his dick and
rubbing his pecs. His breathing was heavy and he felt more
sexually charged than at any moment in his young life.
"Put your jock on," ordered Coach. "If you want me to fuck
you, it's going to be on my terms."
Tim took the cummy jock from the desk. "Put it on
backwards," barked Coach.
Tim looked at Coach, confused. "Just do it, buddy boy."
Coach's voice was totally turning Tim on. He turned the
jock around and putting it on felt the slimy pouch creep up
his ass crack.
Using his forearm, Coach cleared his desk off with one
sweep. "Lie on your stomach." Tim laid down and his
already slimy cock leaked more precum on the desk top.
Grabbing Tim's thighs, Coach spread the boy's legs and then
dove into his ass crack tasting Tim's sweat and cum. He
chewed the material and soaked it with saliva. He then
pulled the elastic aside and Tim almost came as Coach's
tongue worked its way up Tim's asshole. "Fuck yes!" cried
Tim.
After slicking up Tim's virgin ass with his tongue, Coach
then inserted one finger and then another. Tim was blown
away by what he was feeling and his pre-cum flow became a
river as Coach's fingers made their way to Tim's prostate.
Coach was surprised at how relaxed Tim's tight hole was.
Tim met the thrusts of Coach's fingers with his own
backwards thrusting. "Give me your cock, Coach," moaned
Tim as he looked backwards.
Coach kept up his finger work as he pulled down his lyra
shorts. His cock was straining against his totally pre-cum
soaked jock. Tim looked back in awe as Coach freed his
eight-inch cock. It was thicker than Tim's, smoother too,
with a nice pearly gob streaming out. Coach's balls were
big, and tight.
"Turn over," said Coach. Coach gently stroked Tim's dick
and he reached into his drawer and pulled out a condom and
put it on. Tim was in a trance-like state, in anticipation
of the fucking he was about to get. Coach pulled Tim up to
him and they mouth- fucked. No slight against Chris, but
Coach knew his way around a man's mouth. Holding Tim's
face, Coach looked at him deeply and asked him, "Are you
ready for this?" In a breathy whisper Tim answered, "Fuck
me, Coach."
Coach proceeded to do so, with Coach holding onto Tim's
beefy thighs. Coach would slow his pace and reach up
stroking Tim's pecs, and giving the occasional jerk on
Tim's meat. Tim was lost in passion. Tim was just as much
fucking Coach with his own thrusts. "Let's go for it Tim."
They increased their pace. Tim started playing with his
balls and jacking his own dick. Coach pulled out, rolled
off the condom and started jacking too. Tim had his
powerful legs wrapped around Coach's torso. They started
coming together. Coach sprayed Tim's face with a heavy
stream. Tim's cum was arcing high and splashing his chest
and stomach. When they regained awareness, Tim pulled
Coach on top of him and they shared the taste of Coach's
cum in their mouths. Coach looked at Tim. "You little
fucking seducer. I always said I'd never fuck a student."
"It won't happen again Coach," Tim said with a mischievous
cum-soaked grin.
"Until the next time."
Wanna more hot porn stories? >
http://www.incesttabooo.com/hschool.html