Coach's Initiative (Patreon)

All characters are 18+

The students on the team were senior students (all of them were over the age of 18).

Trigger warning: Age gap.

There are many who'll read this and believe that I was taken advantage of. That my youthful ignorance and his vulturine manner made him a predator and me, a victim. You may think that I was somehow coerced into it, that I felt I had to do it, but you couldn't be further from the truth.

You see, I didn't love him and he didn't love me. What we had wasn't romantic, it was lustful. We weren't soft and caring, we were animalistic and ravaging.

So let me tell you the story of how I lost my virginity to a man who I shouldn't have lost my virginity to.

I was still in school, though old enough to buy a pack of cigarettes, which I regularly did. To put it mildly, I was a fucker. A mischievous little bastard who spent more time getting my backside reddened by the headmaster than sitting in an actual class. Perhaps I had what is now known as ADHD, though that wasn't a term one heard in the sixties.

I was a cute boy, but not handsome like some of the others. Girls didn't like cute, you see, not unless it was a puppy or baby. I was shorter than my classmates too, which only added to my inability to find a girlfriend. I had a mop of unruly black hair, usually sheared short by my father. A skinny body, with ribs you could count, and a temper that kept me in good standing with the school bullies.

One thing I did have going for me, was that I was the best rugby player in the school. You wouldn't expect it given my nimble size, but I was quick, and could run a ball from one side of the field to the other before anybody could even notice me.

It's quite possible that this is the reason why John Lafferty took a shining to me. The middle aged man was our coach, and a stricter man I have never met. He didn't suffer fools gladly, and carried with him a leather strap which regularly slashed across the cold shins of the boys who slacked off in training.

We were a hardy bunch, and one that the posher schools hated to face. It was inevitable that blood would be shed in every match, something encouraged by John, and expected of each other. It was like mixing rugby and boxing, but it's all we had back then.

For this reason, we rarely made it into any of the late stages of competitions. Most of our team would be suspended by the time it came down to it, with the rest of us recovering from the wounds sustained by picking fights with the wrong young men.

In 1969 however, we'd done what no team before us had managed to do. We reached the quarter finals of the school cup, and the excitement in the clubhouse was palpable.

For some brief background, I had no idea I was gay at the time. I, like many other boys my age, were conditioned to believe that only a man and woman could become intimate. Being gay was unheard of, and the only mention of it was when Old Yeller actor Tommy Kirk was fired by Disney for it.

I don't even remember having any sexual urges for men, nor for women either. I had sexual urges, but they didn't seem to be aimed at any one gender.

The first encounter that made me question everything was after a particularly brutal training session which resulted in Liam Mellows losing five teeth and the boy he bit requiring three days in hospital. It was a miserable, wet November afternoon and we spent the last twenty minutes of the day being scolded by Lafferty.

When he was done, the small shed that we called our clubhouse became vacant, but for me and the coach.

Lafferty was an intimidating man, even without his infamous strap. He was around six foot tall, with shoulders so broad he didn't need to tell you that he was once the best rugby player in the school, but he still did, anyway. He walked with a limp from an injury he'd gotten as a boy, and had hair as black as coal. His skin was darker than average, and had an almost leathery look to it. The man was scary to behold given his large stature, and ice thin patience, but I always found myself having deep respect for him.

"You keep that up and you'll captain the team next year" he told me, and I was happy to bask in the compliments considering my own father was usually too drunk to even remember my name.

"I need a good game from you on Sunday" he added, and I nodded, but my attention had been diverted to the sight before me.

Lafferty was naked, having shed his clothing to dress in something cleaner and more appropriate. My eyes trailed down his hairy chest, pausing on his large brown nipples before following the trail of hair down his stomach and into the thick, black bush of pubic hair that housed the long, fleshy tube which hung out from his groin.

I was in awe. Naturally enough at eighteen back then, the only nudity I'd ever seen had come from a dirty magazine that had once been smuggled into school. Taking out my own, and my siblings, I'd never once seen a cock in real life.

Perhaps he caught me looking, or perhaps he noticed the erection in my shorts, but Lafferty made no effort to dress in a hurry. He continued to set his expectations of me, going over strategies and plans whilst his long, dark pole hung inches from my face.

It felt like I was watching a pendulum. My eyes followed it everywhere it went and I became mesmerised by it's beauty.

I'm not sure if it was at that point that I realised that I was gay, or if it was a moment later when it became erect under my gaze.

The skin stretched back, revealing a bulbous head and doubling in size, and my jaw slacked open as Lafferty gripped it.

"Do you want an incentive?" Were the words that he spoke, and mindlessly I nodded.

There was no romance in it, nor did I want there to be. It was a terrible, terrible thing to have such relations with another man. At least in my mind, but the coach stepped closer and I took him into my mouth.

I don't know why I did it. Of course, I understood the general concept of a blowjob, but that was a woman's job, and judging by the painful hard-on in my shorts, I was sure that I wasn't a woman.

He tasted of soap, with a tinge of sweat and a stench of Benson and Hedges, giving the impression that the man smoked naked in his home.

It was almost like an instinct, and I took his cock deeper into my throat until I gagged. He didn't touch me, not even once, but slid his wet tool in and out, over and over again. It must have lasted less than ten minutes before I felt a squirt of fluid splash across my tongue, and spat it onto the floor as Lafferty continued to spew his load across my clothed body.

Part of me was disgusted, and another part, extremely aroused. When I left the clubhouse, I ran home and straight to my bedroom where I relived the entire thing in detail, and sprayed my own juices across my scrawny body.

By Sunday's game, my mind was more on my coach than the match. It was an important one for us, with the winner progressing to the semi-finals, and somehow we managed to scrape a win. We celebrated on and off the pitch, though my celebrations were quite a bit different.

Lafferty took me to the showers in the school, and we spoke only of the game on our journey. We had never been permitted into the school after a match, because the headmaster didn't want us dirtying the place with our muddy boots and bodies, so showering was done with a cold hose, in our underpants out in the field. Not today though.

I'd been painfully eager to see the coach naked since the last time, and wasn't disappointed when he began to undress. I expected something similar to the previous encounter, another blowjob and a rush home to fulfil my own self needs, but when Lafferty had shed the last of his clothing, he turned to me and began to peel my wet, filthy clothes from my slim body.

I don't recall the thoughts in my mind at the time. It was somewhat methodical, perhaps even robotic. My shirt came off, then my boots and socks, my shorts were slid down my legs and I stood wearing only a pair of Y-front briefs which were all the rage back then.

Lafferty became erect again, and his hands began to caress my undressed body. I remained silent, though my penis gave me away. It stuck out in my underwear, tenting it until my coach began to fondle me.

I wasn't scared of the man, nor was I frightened of what he could do. We had a mutual understanding, though it hadn't been spoken. I knew I could leave if I wanted to, and that was enough for me.

I believe I pulled my own pants down, and buckled when Lafferty lipped my thin cock into his mouth. It was unimaginable pleasure, and feeling his tongue circle my sensitive glans caused me to spill pre-cum from my slit.

Somewhere in the middle of my mind blowing blowjob, we switched, and I ended up on my knees, naked and sucking my coach off.

It lasted longer this time, so long in fact, that my jaw became sore and ached with every movement, and that's when Lafferty moved to the next phase.

He bent me over a bin, which was about as romantic as our relationship ever became, and a moment later I felt his finger slide across an area of my body that was supposed to be off limits. I'd heard some of the guys discuss anal sex before, but once again, it was something reserved only for women.

He wet my backside with something, which I now assume was his own saliva, before squeezing his index finger inside me. I don't recall feeling any pain at this point, but certainly remember how odd a sensation it was.

It must have lasted ten or more minutes, with his pace quickening, then slowing, then quickening again until I became putty in his hands. I was purring at this point, my entire body buzzing with sheer pleasure as he fingered my virginal hole.

I hadn't realised it at the time, but my prostate was being toyed with, and each stroke sent a wave of arousal through my teenage body.

Somewhere along the way, a second finger slipped inside, but again, it didn't hurt me. I felt like I'd died and gone to heaven, and my rod was leaking copious amounts of juices onto the floor.

By the time Lafferty was finished preparing my hole, I would have likely done anything he'd told me to. I was numb with pleasure, dizzy with horniness, and ready for whatever came next.

He didn't tell me what he was going to do, he let me feel it instead. Something large and somehow cool, rubbed against my intimate spot and then came the pain.

I winced and squeezed the edges of the dirty bin as my coach impaled me with his thick manhood. Sucking air through my teeth, I whimpered and groaned, but Lafferty wasn't one for dramatics and continued into my rectum until I was full and trembling.

The man did allow me some time to adjust to the impalement, waiting patiently as my stretched sphincter became accustom to this strange sensation, and then suddenly the pain began to alleviate, and the intense pleasure that I'd felt from his fingers, returned ten fold.

He pulled his cock almost entirely from my body and slammed it back inside. I yelped at first, mewling as he used me, but a moment later, I was back in heaven, drooling and moaning as Lafferty fucked me roughly.

There were questions in my mind of course. Was I gay? What would my family and friends do if they found out? Would Lafferty continue even if we lost the next game? But I pushed them to the back of my head and allowed myself to enjoy the moment.

His thrusting became almost violent, and he held me in place as he ploughed my virginity into extinction. I remember trying to talk, trying to alert the man to the fact that my balls had just exploded of their own volition and jets of thick cum were shooting from my throbbing penis and splashing against my bare feet as he pounded me, but my brain had seemingly retired, and all I could do was moan and whimper once more.

The fucking became somewhat uncomfortable once I'd blown my load, and suddenly it didn't seem like such a great idea after all, but Lafferty wasn't finished, and so I took the rest like a champ, clenching my butt tightly in an attempt to will his semen from his rod faster.

It was as though the man could sense my attempt, and slowed his pace drastically. His strokes were long and purposeful, as if part of him was enjoying my reluctance.

He kept his cock buried inside me but took me from the bin and positioned me on my hands and knees on the cold tiled floor. It felt somewhat better like this, as his pole began to rub against my prostate once again, causing my still-leaking prick to twitch.

Lafferty pushed his hand between my shoulder blades, forcing me to arch my back as my cheek rested against my own cold load that I'd spilled earlier. He took me by the hips once again, slamming himself in and out quickly and deliberately.

More time passed, and my tool was erect once more. The pleasure had returned, and I moaned and groaned as he fucked me in my own mess.

My cum was in my hair, in my ear, across my cheek and spread over my lips. I could taste myself as he spread me wide and deep, and then finally, after almost thirty minutes of constant fucking, the man behind me groaned and filled my aching bowels with his thick, hot seed.

We showered together, but spoke only about the game and the upcoming one the following week. My butt was aching and felt open as the warm water washed away our juices, but somewhere deep inside me, even through all the questions and concerns I now had about myself, I knew that I wanted it again.

We won the final that year, and again the following year. Just like Lafferty had promised, I captained the team and through every celebration we had, I knew what awaited me in the showers afterwards. It was a beautiful arrangement, and one that even at my grand old age today, I don't regret for a second.

John Lafferty was a coach and mentor in my youth, but became a close friend as I grew. I'll always have fond memories of the man, and miss him dearly to this day.