There were several domains that piqued my interest. Among them: the training room with the coaches’ lockers, the lockers belonging to the players’, a little back hallway that led to the girls’ locker room that also housed the whirlpool, and the biggest temptation of them all – the phys ed coach’s office.
The training room was a rather small room divided into two halves. The main door opened into the portion reserved for the storing of the footballs, kicking tees and the like. Along one side of the room ran a waist high wooden bench where injured athletes would be placed and examined. The room was divided by a wooden wall with a half door in its center. To the left of the half door was a grey metal desk. The wall opposite the door was lined with lockers for the coaches of the younger grade teams. This group consisted of teachers who had an interest in football and fancied themselves as experts of the game. Physically, it was a mixed bag.
There were a couple of short, dark-haired men – the art teacher and the social studies teacher. One of them had a nice smooth bubble butt, the other a nice mustache and a blunt, uncut dick. They did very little for me, probably due to their personalities (or lack thereof), and the fact that they simply weren’t all that athletic.
My former sixth grade homeroom teacher was another matter. He was very tall, with a long square jaw and curly blonde hair. His piercing blue eyes were mesmerizing and he was about five years younger than any of the other coaches. He had a classic basketball player build and was in great shape – including a set of kick ass abs. His dick was long and smooth and set off nicely by a pair of low hangers – all of which figured prominently in many a jerk off session. This is the same teacher who sat me down in sixth grade and wanted to know why I was hiding in the library during gym class. I couldn’t tell him that it was because I was afraid to shower with the other boys, but I think he sensed that. I got over it and there never seemed to be any permanent weirdness between us, save the residual glow from the major boy crush I had on him.
One of the coaches – the assistant to the head coach, was a big brute of a German. A sour-faced, forbidding sort, he was a bit on the ugly side. His build reminded me of an old-fashioned, barrel-chested muscleman. Even his uncut dick was ugly, resembling something like a vulture’s neck with its long foreskin dangling at least an inch over the head of his cock. In spite of this (or probably because of it), he, too, figured prominently in my fantasy life. He taught German and had a very deep, guttural voice, so naturally I saw him as a strict disciplinarian and imagined him spanking me. I used to actually go to his classroom – located in one of the satellite buildings behind the school – strip naked and shoot the pike at the front of his classroom, no doubt leaving suspicious looking stains in the carpeting. But then the janitors at that school were no doubt getting used to the little DNA samples I had begun to leave all over the school.
Two of the science teachers were also coaches, both in their early thirties. One was a classically handsome gent, with a square jaw and nice reddish, close-cropped, curly hair. His body, which was very nice, was covered in fur, as well. He was something of an egotistical ass, but that just added to his allure. His dick was sort of on the small side (no doubt God’s way of evening the score), but he was also one of the wrestling coaches, so I definitely found him jerk worthy. The other was a curly headed blonde with a very interesting face – kind of Grecian, his chin sporting a wicked cleft chin. His milky blue eyes had a bulging quality and his lips were full, sensual and beautiful. He had this odd saliva issue and frequently had spittle in the corners of his mouth. In spite of that (or maybe subconsciously because of it), there was something very sexy about him. His body was hairless and there didn’t seem to be an ounce of body fat on him. Even his dick was pretty and pink. He definitely reminded me of a naked, white marble, Greek statue. Needless to say, he was a major creator of boners of contention.
One of the math teachers, the one I called ‘The Polish Prince’, was also a coach. With a mane of rich, black hair, he was a mostly negative, bitter man, with a mean streak a mile long. Crabby most of the time, he was difficult to deal with in the classroom, but in terms of fantasy material, it made him a lot of fun. The other thing that made him fun was the fact that he had a huge dick – a serious, cut, mouth-watering monster hanging between his legs. Basically I imagined him sneering and saying mean things to me as he shot his load all over me.
There was also a tall redheaded coach whose skin would have been very pale if it were not for all the freckles that covered his entire body. He was a little fleshy looking and his dick was odd, because the head of his penis was incredibly brilliant pink. He had a big red mustache, too – and that was the only reason he played any part in my fantasies. He always played second string to the other coaches, acting as a sort of hanger on in the stories I wove as I beat off.
My fantasies were populated by these men, but there was a very real part they unknowingly played as well. When these coaches were out in the field I would check out their underwear. This became something I did when I babysat, as well. When babysitting I would go through the dad’s underwear drawer and also the laundry hampers. Yep, a real sick pup in the making, for sure. Not sure where the notion of underwear being sexual came from (maybe those Hanes ads in the TV Guide), but it was definitely a boner inducer. On occasion I would be rewarded with something unique; a jock strap or a pair of exotic underwear. I would then have to strip down and try them on. I loved the feel of my hard dick as it pressed against the illicit fabric. I never came in them, though. That would have been a dead giveaway and getting caught was never part of the plan or kink.
During my three years as a Football Manager I only caught one of the coaches with a semi. That was the art teacher with the nice bubble butt. I could tell he was embarrassed – he blushed big time as he scrambled into his underwear, but that was the closest I came to seeing an adult hard during high school.
It should be noted, that at this stage in the game, all I knew about sex consisted of masturbation and, to a lesser extent (a great deal lesser) kissing. So those were pretty much the only physical acts that figured into my masturbatory fantasies. While I yearned for closeness and for touch, it was actually the psychological aspects, colored by the personalities of the objects of my erections that infused and broadened the scope of many of my fantasies. They always featured dialogue and there was always a story line. Sucking dick and butt fucking wouldn’t become a reality or cream dream material for me for many more years. So, basically, while I feared I might be ‘gay’, I really had no notion of what that entailed in a physical sense, although I do think that on some level I did understand its emotional component. I’m not sure kissing really figured into my fantasies though. Just naked touching and being told to do things, like jerk off. It was the idea of being alone with these men and the recipient of their attention that turned my crank (pun intended). I always liked the idea of them teaching me how to masturbate. I was also turned on by the fact that they were physically larger than me. In my mind, they were forever towering over me while comparing the size my dick to theirs in either an almost scholarly or disdainful manner. Such fantasies were my consistent companions, but sometimes all I needed was a little solitude, my dick and a goal. That’s where a locked door came in handy and that’s why the hallway between the boys’ and girls’ locker rooms where the big metal, portable whirlpool was set up caught my interest.
I know I sat in the whirlpool at least once, but it must not have much for me, because it never became a habit of mine. I did like seeing the players use it though. They seemed so vulnerable then. A favorite fantasy involved me helping them into the whirlpool. Once in they would spring a hard on and beg me to help them with it. What can I say? I was always there to lend a hand where needed. Another reason I liked that hallway was because there was a door at both ends and they both locked. Needless to say, countless loads ended up on that floor. I always cleaned up after myself with a towel, but I remember I loved the sound my cum made as it hit the cement floor in that mini echo chamber. I would also have contests with myself to see how far I could shoot, the cum gleaming and easily seen as it caught the light.
In the training room, on occasion I would get naked and hump the training table, sometimes wearing someone’s jock strap. I’d also strip down and take showers by myself in the big shower room, lying down on the cold, cement floor as the room filled with steam. But most of my naked play and showering were reserved for the office of the head coach, who was also the boys’ phys ed teacher.
His office was in the middle of the locker room. It had a large picture window covered with a venetian blind that looked out onto the locker room. Inside the office there was a desk, a metal file cabinet and a coat rack. Along the back wall ran a counter with four cupboards above. In a reoccurring fantasy, I imagined the phys ed teacher telling me that it was time for my annual physical. He would ask me to lean up against the counter and drop my pants so he could check out my nut sack, asking me cough just like in the doctor’s office. I would imagine myself accidently getting a hard on and him chuckling, asking if I knew what to do with it. From there, one thing would lead to another and it would always end with us clutching each other in a passionate embrace under the spray of his private shower.
Right next to the coat rack was a door that led to said shower. Here I would spend a lot of time naked and jerking off, usually after an extended period of snooping around and posing naked on the coach’s desk. If he had a spare jock lying around I would try it on. I remember he also had a nut cup and I would try that on as well. The head coach was a salt and pepper, flat-top wearing, beefy, furry, handsome, fantasy daddy. His dick was tiny, but his personality is what dominated and fueled my fantasies about him. He caught me in his office once. Fortunately I was fully clothed, but shamed none the less. This occurred in my third year as a Football Manager. That would also be my last, not because of anything I did, but my interests by that point were pretty well established and they did not include playing water boy.
During my second year as a Football Manager, the team actually went to State. My brother, a junior at the time, was on that team. The game was someplace up north and it required us to travel and stay in a motel. Going to state was a really big deal for such a small town. It was decided that Tim and I would need help, so the coach asked us to recruit our friends. Fortunately, we actually had some – a group composed of my class’ musicians and brain trust. There were six of us in all and we shared a single room with two beds. The weirdest thing happened on that trip. I was in the shower in our motel room when suddenly the head coach burst into the bathroom, scaring the hell out of me. He then proceeded to jump in the shower, wearing a polo shirt and a pair of polyester coach shorts and held me tightly under the water as he gave me a ‘noogie’. He roared with glee the entire time and left as quickly as he had arrived. I’d been playing with myself just before his arrival, so I am pretty sure I had a full hard on just before this happened. To this day I am not sure what that was all about. He had done it that one other time a year earlier in the locker room, but then I was fully clothed and he was naked.
Anyway, we lost our first game in the series and that was the only time a team from my high school went to State. Shortly after that, the Phys Ed coach apparently lost interest in being a teacher and coach. The next season, my last year as a Football Manger would also prove to be his last year as a coach.
But the coaches were not the only guys that fueled my masturbatory dreams. There were all those players… and watching as their bodies matured and changed was absolutely intoxicating to behold.
End of Part II
Coming Sometime Soon: Part III – Hanging with The Players – Alice Creams and Dreams