The Coach: Chapter 1

My heart raced as I maneuvered through the masses of students on the campus of Oakwood University. The air was ripe with the potential of youth. Energized by the fresh energy and academic ambition, I strode eagerly through the dreaded coach's football team meeting. I squeezed past a group of rowdy jocks and crammed myself between Tristan and a tree trunk. An unfortunate choice, as it turned out, but I didn't have time to dwell on it.

"You look nervous," Tristan observed, smirking. He had no idea.

I just gulped, "First day and all."

The football coach approached, causing the group to hush. Coach Jonathan Davis was a middle-aged man with dark hair, green eyes, and muscular physique. I felt an inexplicable shiver as his gaze met mine.

"Welcome to the team," Coach Davis said, his voice gruff yet soothingly masculine. He moved on, handing out playbooks and scheduling tryouts.

I couldn't help but study him, his short dark hair, his intense green eyes, the muscles flexing beneath his tight shirt as he wrote. I nearly whimpered when he accidentally brushed against my thigh.

I made sure to linger afterwards, a fact Tristan eagerly picked up on.

"You really have it bad for Coach Davis, don't you?" he accused, his voice betraying an unspoken desire.

I blushed, stuttering an excuse about his inspiring leadership.

Coach Davis lingered, hand resting on MY shoulder before excusing himself. I caught the faintest whiff of his cologne and couldn't focus the rest of the session.

That night, I laid in bed, tossing and turning, achingly hard. My chastity cage bit into my inflamed shaft with a familiar, dreadful pleasure. I couldn't take it anymore, so I texted Tristan. Maybe he could provide relief-or perhaps a deviant distraction.

I sent a message to Tristan, desperate and willing. A moment of silence followed, then a prompt response: "My place in 20."

Shower, shave, and tugging my tight briefs into place, I headed to Tristan's apartment eagerly. There'd be no romance tonight, just two needy college boys trying to beat the edge.

"Have you ever been fucked while in chastity?" Tristan asked as I entered the apartment, an expectant grin on his clean-shaven face.

He knew I was eager, a little anxious, but he didn't know the half of it. I slipped off my Converse, heart thumping in my chest like a jackrabbit. My cock was already rock-hard, craving tender attention through the confinement of my chastity cage.

"No," I sheepishly admitted as he tossed me a bottle of lube. "But I trust you."

He chuckled and winked, disappearing into his bedroom.

I took a deep breath, attempting to calm myself while anxiously awaiting his return. My pulse quickened as I heard the sound of something metallic clinking in his room. Moments later, Tristan re-emerged, brandishing a small metal contraption in his hand.

"Let's switch things up," he smirked, dangling the device in front of me. I recognized it as a chastity key, but it was unlike any I'd seen before.

This one was intricately designed with swirling engravings and an air of dominance. My breath hitched, and I shivered, sensing my fate was about to be sealed.

"Give it a try," Tristan offered, rattling the key. He patted the sofa next to him, his eyes twinkling in playful anticipation.

"Alright," I said, moving closer and sitting down, knees quivering with need.

He reached for my belt, undoing my pants with an experienced touch. My cock ached, yearning for release from the chastity cage I came in.

Tristan gently took my balls in one hand and the cage in another. He looked up, green eyes boring into mine. "You're gonna give yourself over to me now, Brandon."

"Yes," I whispered, my breath hitching as he took control. The metal cool against my skin, he worked the key into the tiny lock on my chastity device. My heart pounded in my chest with anticipation. He removed my cage and replaced it with his. He waved the keys in my face when it was on and said, "I'm going to use you now boy".  I whimpered in pleasure as he bent me over the arm of the sofa, exposing my ass fully to him. I arched my back, and he inserted a slick finger into my hole, lubing me up with slow, deliberate strokes.

"Oh, fuck yes," I gasped, still basking in the feeling of anticipation that I was about to bottom for my college best friend. 

"Yeah?" Tristan asked, adding another finger, stretching me out. The pleasure built between us as I nodded frantically, begging for more.

Tristan smiled wickedly, leaning in to whisper in my ear, "You're such a filthy little slut, begging for my cock."

He removed his fingers from my hole with a pop. I heard the sound of him undoing his belt and dropping his pants, revealing his stiff cock, which was already glistening with precum. I couldn't help but stare at it for a moment, transfixed by its sheer size and the thought of what was about to happen.

Tristan positioned himself behind me, and I felt the tip of his cock pressing against my hole.

I instinctively tensed up, my body bracing itself for the initial shock of pain that always accompanied bottoming for the first time in a while. Tristan must have sensed my apprehension, because he whispered soothingly in my ear, "Relax, Brandon. Let me in."

I took a deep breath, forcing my body to relax as much as possible. A moment later, I felt the tip of Tristan's cock breach my entrance. I winced at the initial stab of pain, but before I could fully register it, Tristan was already sliding into me.

He took it slow, letting my body adjust to his size, which made the burn of penetration dissipate into a throbbing pleasure.

"Oh fuck, Brandon. You feel so good," Tristan groaned as he pushed the rest of the way into me with a smooth glide, his cock filling me up completely.

He paused for a moment, letting me feel every thick inch of him, and then started a slow, measured rhythm that drove me wild with desire. My body began moving with him naturally, and I pushed back onto him, feeling his balls slap against my ass.

Back to blog

Leave a comment

Please note, comments need to be approved before they are published.