Chapter 12 Harry
HARRY
I’ve got Darius exactly where I want him. His wrists are together, held tightly by my left hand. I’m not trying to hurt him, but a small part of me enjoys having him under my control this way. A tinge of skin peeks through his lifted shirt, and he smells like a locker room. Yum.
“Let’s get this dirty shirt off you,” I say, tugging at the hem with my free hand. He moves to pull his hat off, but I stop him. “Leave it on.”
The shirt ends up over his head. I release his wrists, and he tugs it off, tossing it by the edge of the couch. His hat comes off too, but he grabs it and puts it back on—backwards.
“You’re such a fucking dudebro,” I say.
“Thank you.” He scrunches his eyebrows in this ridiculously charming way. “I think.”
Something inside me smolders seeing his naked chest again. That soft brown hair, dusted across his pecs, leading right down to the treasure in his track pants.
“I wanna lick you up and down,” I say.
“Go for it, Harry. Lick away.”
A snort escapes my lips. He’s trying to be sexy, but he just comes off as silly—which is, ironically, more sexy.
I smash my mouth onto his, our tongues meeting in the middle. There’s no pretense as I straddle him. My hands take in the light fur on his chest before finding his nipples—pinching, getting them nice and hard for my mouth.
Before moving to his chin, I give his bottom lip a bite and a little tug until he winces.
“Now, be a good coach for me. Can you do that?”
“Yes, sir.”
My tongue runs down his neck, right between his pecs, before selecting the right one to start with.
I take his nipple in my mouth, circling it, flicking, and taking tiny nibbles.
After a few seconds, I switch to sucking then go back to using my tongue and teeth.
By the noises coming out of his mouth, I’m fairly certain it’s driving Darius wild.
“Fuck, Harry. You’re making me so damn hard.”
Bingo.
I reach down between his legs, and sure enough, the firm bulge in his track pants confirms his statement.
“Good,” I say, pulling off his chest. “Hard is the goal.”
I glance up and give him a smirk, and he runs his index finger over my lips.
“Goal? Are you talking sports to turn me on?”
His cock throbs in my hand, and he returns my smile. I take his finger in my mouth, ready to bite it, but Darius swirls it inside, and instead I take a few long sucks, giving him a preview of what’s coming.
“Harry, you’re going to be the end of me.”
My eyebrows wiggle up, and I give his finger another swirl of my tongue before pulling off and returning to his torso.
I’m on his stomach now, letting his treasure trail lead me right to the pot of gold waiting at the end of the Coach Hill rainbow.
Wanting to tease him a bit, I don’t take his pants off yet.
Instead, I run my mouth over his cock, the synthetic fabric—polyester would be my guess—smooth and sleek as I gnaw at the head of his dick.
“Harry, please. My cock, I’m . . .”
He’s shaking under me, my lips adding pressure as I glide down the shaft, then back up and nibble right under the head, in that super sensitive spot.
“Okay, okay,” I say. “Lift.” I pat his ass.
Darius does as I ask, and I yank his pants down and off his ankles.
Instead of his cock popping up, though, it’s still under fabric.
The head, barely poking out from the waistband of his jockstrap, leaks precum.
I toss his pants on top of the jacket next to the couch and lean over, sucking right at the tip.
“Sorry. I don’t really need to wear one to coach, but I’m just used to putting them on for anything athletic. It’s a habit from college.” He moves his hands to the waistband. “Let me take it off.”
I put my hands on his, stopping him. “Not yet.”
His eyes widen and a small laugh escapes his lips. “Oh? Does Mr. Peterson have a jockstrap fantasy?”
“Maybe.”
I’m not sure where the association comes from—jockstraps are sports-related, sure.
But I remember a few guys wearing them in the locker room back in high school, and the memory rushes back as I run my tongue along the top of the support pouch.
When I get to his balls, he shifts, and says, “Harry, are you sure you don’t want me to take a shower? I can be real quick. I promise.”
“Coach.” I glide my thumb under the waistband, adding pressure to the head, and he squirms with delight. “I want you sweaty.”
“Oh. Okay, then.”
I stand and realize, while Darius may be almost naked, I’m still completely dressed.
Quickly, I’m out of my jeans, my briefs clinging onto my frame as my cock tries to escape the waistband, just like his.
When I pull my sweater and shirt over my head, fingers grab onto the elastic of my underwear and tug.
He’s still on the couch, dragging me between his legs, eyes focused on my midsection.
“Harry, I want to suck your cock so bad.” His fingers crawl inside, grazing the tip. “Can I? Please?”
“I mean, since you asked so politely.”
I pull my briefs off, adding them to the growing pile on the floor.
And then Darius, with permission granted, leans forward and takes me in his mouth—almost to the base.
He didn’t get a chance to blow me at the hotel, and I’m impressed by his skills.
There’s some gulping and gagging noises, but he’s not backing off—between the noises and enthusiasm he’s bringing, I’m sensing he’s simply enjoying himself.
My fingers grip the sides of his head. There’s not a ton of hair to get lost in, but the peach fuzz on his buzzed sides is soft, and I latch on to his ears, plunging myself down his throat, and watching his lips stretch around me as he goes to town.
“You like sucking my dick, Coach?”
He moans his answer, and I throw my head back, taking in the absolute pleasure of fucking the face of the man who tormented me for years. Yeah, turns out he had a massive crush on me, and it was all to get my attention, but nevertheless, he’s now choking on my cock.
He pulls off, wiping saliva from his mouth. “Okay, Peterson. I need a breather.”
I swivel around and drag the small coffee table to the edge of the area rug. There’s more room now as a plan formulates in my head. I grab a throw pillow from the sofa for my head and lie down in the newly open space.
“Stand over me, please,” I say from the floor.
Darius complies, straddling my body, facing me, I can see his poor dick still desperate to escape the jockstrap.
“Now turn around.” I grab my cock, giving it a few tugs as he does as I ask.
“Look at that thick, juicy ass in those straps. So damn delicious, Darius.”
“Really?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
He shakes his ass a little, the thick muscle framed by the bands of fabric jiggles, and my dick throbs in my grip.
“Fuck, you’re hot.”
He laughs at this, and I’m pretty sure nobody’s ever told him how sexy he is. I mean, the whole athletic suit, baseball hat, PE teacher machismo stuff aside. Nah, it’s all that, too.
“Now listen Darius, I want you to sit back. Carefully.”
He turns around, eyebrows jogging up his forehead, trying to hide behind the back of his hat.
“Sit on you?”
“Well, my face to be exact. Come.” I pat my chest. “Get on your knees.”
He squats down, straddling my torso, knees on the rug, and without even touching him, his ass spreads, exposing the beautiful hole I finger banged in Rhode Island. It was dark in the hotel room, and I didn’t get the best view. Now, I’m witnessing a damn work of art.
“Look at your pretty hole.”
“Pretty?” He glances over his shoulder but can’t quite make eye contact.
“Yes, Darius, your asshole is pretty. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Spectacular. Exquisite.” I slap his right cheek. “I’m an English teacher with a thesaurus fetish. I can keep going.”
This makes him laugh, his ass jiggling with each chuckle.
“Now, get back here.”
With my hands on his waist, I guide him back until I’m able to make contact with my tongue. Darius lets out a small gasp, and I wait, inhaling deeply, taking in the musky scent of him. He may have showered earlier, but whatever running around he did at practice has him all sweaty. Go Sharks!
“Ease back,” I tell him. “I’ve got you.”
And then, doing as he’s told, Darius lets his weight rest on my face.
With the help of gravity, I’m able to glide my tongue inside him, swirling around, tasting the sweet perspiration as his hole opens up for me.
With my hands occupied, holding him in place and spreading him open, I’m unable to reach my aching cock.
I can feel the precum on my stomach, and I thrust my hips up slightly, hoping Darius takes the hint.
I pull back for a breath, panting with pleasure.
“Grind into my face.”
Fingers wrap around my dick, stroking slowly, as I continue devouring him, and when I hear him spit, adding some slickness to his hand, I reward him by burying my tongue even deeper.
Then, with his free hand, Darius reaches back, losing his hand in my curls, tugging, pulling me up, inside his perfect hole.
We find a steady rhythm, him jerking me while pushing back, fucking my mouth with his ass.
“Peterson, fuck.” He moves forward, and I pull back, replacing my tongue with two fingers. “You’re blowing my mind.”
“Remember when you wanted to fuck me in Rhode Island?”
My fingers are inside him, just past the knuckles, clearly doing a good job, because with the next plunge, his entire body trembles. He fucking trembles.
Darius pauses the attention he’s giving my cock. “Yeah.”
“Get me ready, Coach. I want to tap in.”
I bend my knees, then lift my legs, giving him access to my ass, and like a good coach, he leans forward, spitting on his fingers and teasing my hole.
“Hang on,” I say.
Hoping this would happen, I planted supplies under the sofa. With a quick swipe, I grab the tube of lube and pass it to him. “Here. Get me ready for your fat cock.”
“It’s fat?”
“Thick. Meaty. Plentiful. Perfect. Shall I continue?”
He laughs, and the cap clicks open. I hear him squirt lube onto his hand, and then he’s inside me.
A single finger at first. He’s being gentle, careful.
I take the lube from the rug and apply some to my fingers and his hole.
He’s open from the rimming, and with the addition of lube, I easily slide three fingers in.
“Like this,” I say. “Open me up.”
He adds another finger, going deeper, mimicking what I’m doing to him.
“This good?”
“Fuck, Darius, yes. It feels amazing. Go for it.”
With that, he goes further. Spreading my ass, adding a third finger as my pelvis raises higher, urging him on.
“Darius, I want you to fuck me. Hard. Fuck me like you’ve wanted to for the last four years. You up for that, Coach?”
He twists his fingers inside me, my hole hungry for more. “Hell, yes.”