Chapter 15: Coach's Training Day
Steve's greatest challenge yet, an afternoon of team practice while fully plugged. But the biggest surprise awaits him afterwards, when all bets are off.
The next afternoon I walked into Coach’s office at 2:30pm sharp as directed, only to find him waiting at his desk expectantly.
“How’s my guy?” he asked, ever inquisitive, supportive, his positivity a boon.
“Good, Coach,” I replied. And I meant it.
This was the best I’d felt in weeks. The last two days had shifted something inside of me that I couldn’t have articulated. A whole world was opening up to me. And I had him to thank.
“I wanna try something new today,” he continued.
I stared back at him, expecting as much, but what was in store I hardly knew.
Returning, as he always had, to the cabinet by the treatment table, I watched as he opened the drawer and rummaged through once again.
I stood there, shuffling from side to side, impatient, until finally he turned around to face me.
In his hand was a toy, a new one. Whereas the first had been merely a rod, the second a three ringed prong, this one — the third — was just one thick bulb, egg shaped atop its base.
One tall mountain to climb before it rested inside me.
I stared back at it, and him, confused. Practice was about to start in 30 minutes. There was hardly any time before we began.
And then, as always, he read my mind.
“It’s time to take it to the next level,” he said. “You’re gonna use this while you train. With the team.”
I stared back at him, stunned.
While I trained?
I’d been barely able to keep it together when he’d used the other toys on me, each experience sending my body in overdrive, an ecstatic place of intensity. And I’d just been lying there, receiving it. But now I’d be doing the full workout, that gigantic thing resting inside me.
“You’re serious,” I said, half-ask, half-statement.
“Do I look like I’m joking?” he replied.
He didn’t.
How would I keep it together? And how would I be able to conceal my hard-on?
Then, as if reading my mind again, he reached into another drawer, pulling out a jock strap, clean and white with thick straps to hold along the undersides of each ass cheek.
He handed it over to me.
“Throw this on,” he murmured.
My dick was already tightening at the thought of wearing that thing.
I did as I was told, taking it into one hand, using the other to strip off my shorts and releasing them to the ground before climbing into it, pulling it up and letting the straps nestle beneath the cheeks of my ass, resting there, held in place.
I liked the way it felt — my ass on full display, my cock nestled within the folds of fabric. It might feel a little uncomfortable if I got fully hard, but at least my dick would be restrained. And I wouldn’t be giving myself away.
I looked at Coach expectantly, waiting for the next move.
I guess we were doing this.
“Let’s load you up,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
He patted the table for me to climb up, resuming the position of that first day.
All fours. Knees bent. Ass spread.
Once I was in position, Coach took the lube, coating my hole and the plug, and then placed its tip up to my opening.
I’d woken up feeling that same, familiar absence, clenching together thinking what it had been like to be so filled up. I’d missed it, what had once felt like an imposition, a violation, now a baseline. I wanted that feeling all the time and now, here I was, taking it to the next level.
“Deep breaths,” Coach said, almost a whisper, and I did as I was told, the way I’d been taught, letting in a long flow of air and then slowly releasing it out.
As I did he pushed in, the feel of the plug inside me greater than anything before. This one, with its elongated face, pressed the full length of my ass apart.
There would be no relief until it was all the way in.
Gently, with care, Coach pushed it inside me, matching each inch to my inhales and exhales. I expected it to hurt but somehow, miraculously, it didn’t, the practice of the previous two days readying me for this very moment.
After a few rounds of breath, to my surprise, I found that he had inserted it to its full position, the rim of my opening resting around its base just so, holding it in place.
“Good man,” Coach said, as he always did, impressed.
A mix of pride and embarrassment washed over me.
I could take it. I could take a lot.
I stood up from the table, adjusting my legs left and right.
And then, without any effort, my dick responded as it always had, filling up the confines of my jock to a half chub, the desire in me already stewing.
“How’s it feel?” he asked.
It was one thing to have such a thing in me when I was reclined, relaxed. That was different enough. It was another thing entirely to have it in me as I moved around. With every shift of my hips, every movement of my ass, the plug pressed further against my prostate, sending a flow of blood straight to my cock.
“It’s different,” I told him. “It’s new.”
He grinned back me, at the way I repeated back to him the phrase he’d taught me days before.
I did my best to envision how this was going to go.
I was set, locked and loaded, preparing to be edged for the next two hours, all of it happening in secret, nobody around me aware of what was happening.
Except for him.
It was a secret. Our secret. And I liked it.
“Okay, Steve,” he said to me, picking up my shorts from the floor and handing them to me to get dressed again. “Let’s see what you got.”
The school gymnasium was packed that day, despite being mostly reserved for the purposes of our practice. Once a week we used it for cross training -- free weights, bench presses -- all to complement our time spent in scrimmages and drills on the field.
Coach paired us up, two a team, each one alternating between machines and spots on the mats with a set of exercises.
It was a hard enough work out as it was. I’d always end the day feeling wired, fried. But here I was with another challenge, my arousal a potential distraction or perhaps an inspiration, depending on how you looked at it.
Coach walked us through each exercise, one by one, all of us lined up in a row. And then, each in our places, he set us off to work.
“All right boys, have at it,” he said. “Let’s hustle.”
And so we began, Greg and I, our relationship back on track after our stumble a few days before.
“You and Coach,” Greg said as we walked towards the free weights. “Seems like you’re spending a lot of time together.”
I looked at him, trying to read his face.
What did he know?
“Not any more than usual,” I replied, deflecting.
He shook his head, ignoring my protest. “Wish he’d pay that much attention to me,” Greg replied, smirking.
There was something knowing in the way he said that, but before I could reply I heard Coach’s voice from behind me.
“You boy’s gonna join us?” he called out, the rest of the team already deep into the first round.
And so I nodded back at him, and we set to work.
At first it was awkward, navigating the sensations — squats, leg lifts, bicep curls — all while the plug was lodged deep inside me. I moved gingerly, trying to be careful. And then, as my body got into a rhythm and found its groove, I realized something.
I liked it.
Rather than a hindrance, the added grounding of the plug inside me was something else.
It was a boon. An energy source.
It had all the benefits it had in the confines of Coach’s office, only now on the training floor. I could feel every inch of my body as I pressed through each exercise, every muscle alight as it contracted, the energy in my half-hard cock building, disseminating through my entire body.
It was feeding me, empowering me. Inspiring me on.
I kept eyeing Coach, trying to catch his gaze, but he was hardly paying me any attention. It was like he was purposefully ignoring me, barely recognizing my presence. And it irked me, annoyed me. I didn’t want him to give me away, to reveal our secret, but after so much one-on-one time I felt something else.
Like I was abandoned. Left behind.
It didn’t hurt that he was wearing an outfit that was unusually tight, his t-shirt just grazing the sinew of his biceps, the mounds of his pecs, a pair of shorts riding around his ass and just passing mid-thigh. They were loose, loose enough I couldn’t make out his cock the way I had the day before, but they revealed most of his bottom half, the suggestion of his body underneath enough to inspire me forward.
To imagine again what lay beneath.
Before I knew it an hour plus had passed, and I was nearing the finish. I lay back on the bench press, the bar fully loaded up with almost 200 lbs of iron.
I was in gear, ready, eager to finish and get a move on. There had to be some reward after this performance, after this last test, right? Surely he couldn’t leave me this worked up without some kind of release?
Greg lumbered above me, hands assembled just outside mine on the bar.
I stared up at him.
“You got this bud,” he said, egging me on. “Nearly there.”
I placed my hands just between his, preparing to start my first set, when suddenly I heard Coach’s voice from just beyond.
“I got him, Greg,” Coach said, gesturing for him to step aside. “You hit the tread for 15 and work on your endurance. You’re plenty big enough already.”
“All right,” Greg said, stepping away from the bench to make room, Coach taking his place just above me.
I looked up at him, his size ever impressive from his view, legs framing my face. And then he stepped even closer, closer than was necessary, his thighs pressing up against the bar for a second, meeting my hands wrapped around it.
The feel of his thighs against my hands set my body aflame, his warmth firing something inside me.
And from below he did something more. He afforded me a view up his shorts, the opening of one leg of the fabric wide enough to reveal his cock, his perfect cock, dangling down just above the hem in the beautiful cradle of a jock strap.
I froze, hardly believing what I was seeing.
Coach was strapped in too. During practice.
His cock barely concealed beneath.
He was teasing me. He was goading me. He was fucking with me.
“You’re almost finished McIntyre,” he bellowed, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Just these last two stations and you’re done. You ready to ride these last few out?”
