High School Guys Sucking Cock and Shooting Their Load Together

They didn't seem a likely pair, these two high school boymen who were giving each other pleasure on the locker room bench. It was after 6 PM, and they had sneaked in to steal their furtive moments of pleasure. When they were done, they would sneak out, act like their straight friends and stay hard until they were able to do it again.

It was the second time they had met, and they had not become too adventuresome, not even approaching the fantasies that their minds had been turning over since they each learned (years before) that thinking about boys made them harder and feel better than thinking about girls ever could. When they were sure that they were alone, they embraced one another and were once again struck by how right their mouths felt, and they wrestled with their tongues kissing eyes, cheeks, lips, neck and thus inflamed their passion. The two atheletes were now breathing as heavily as during any workout and were straining against their jocks and sweatshorts.

The only light was from the sunset outside that entered from the high windows above. There was a misty quality to the orange twilight, leftover from the parade of sweaty bodies that had showered there earlier. The only sounds would be the echoes of their groans and words of pleasure. They sat down, face to face on a locker room bench. Thankfully it was bolted to the floor so it could stand their violent movements. Between continued mouthwork and crotch rubbing ("Oh, fuck! That feels great, TIm."), they pulled off each other's shirts and licked off a layer of perspiration while exploring each other pecs, pits, and abdomens.

These boys were true specimens of youth. Tim was definitely the finer of the two, with varsity letters in both football and baseball. 6'1", 180 lbs., brown straight hair, brown eyes, beautifully proportioned. His fascination for guys had made him shy (how else could he not be out fucking the cheerleaders?) Chris was a basketball player, 6'4", 170 lbs. ("cute, but..." the girls said). He was no Tim, but right now, charged with sexual passion, the two appeared equals. As for the girls who overlooked him, Chris, in his current position, would have been the envy of them all.

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Their upper bodies were smooth for the most part, save for a trace of hair that led its way down to their crotches, a roadmap to the grand prize. They interlocked their legs and in a tight embrace humped their crotches together grinding and groaning, echoing loudly in the otherwise empty locker room. Tim broke the embrace and grabbed Chris' knees and slide him away from him. "I'm hungry Chris," Tim said in an almost trancelike state. Tim then grabbed the waistband of Chris' sweatshorts and slowly pulled them down the basketball players long legs, pulling them over his shoes and tossing the shorts aside. Tim then pulled Chris halfway back towards him, reached forward and liberated Chris' long, thin (like Chris) dick from the jock, pushing the constraining pouch to one side. (For some reason, they both liked to keep their jocks and shoes on when getting off.)

When Tim touched the base of Chris' dick and fondled his already tight balls, Chris gasped as a large flow of pre-cum made its way out of his dick slit and dribbled down the underside of his dick. Tim felt a surge of pre-cum in his own dick but wanted to keep his meat constrained for the time being. "Dinner time," said Tim laughing as he lapped up the bead of pre-cum and licked his way up Chris' ever-harder prick. Chris was almost in heaven and leaned back and closed his eyes as Tim went to work.

Tim slicked up Chris' dick and ball sac with a generous amount of saliva and alternated between steady long mouth strokes and then gently sucking one then the other of Chris' steamy balls. When Tim grabbed the base of Chris' cock and started playing major head games on Chris' purple helmet, Chris stopped him.

"I love what your doing, man. But I want us to shoot together." With that said and a long kiss, Chris began reciprocating. When he pulled down Tim's shorts, it looked like Tim had creamed already. There was a huge wet spot where the elastic band of his jock met the pouch, and when Chris pulled the elastic back, a thousand ribbons of pre-cum formed between the fabric and Tim's hairy crotch. Chris was in love with Tim's balls. They were big and firm, hotter than any he had seen in any magazine. Tim put the wide elastic of the jock underneath Tim's balls and started his slavish devotion. Tim liked his own balls too, and sometimes would make himself cum simply by playing with them.

Chris moved up to the thick prick that topped those gorgeous balls and had a suckfest of his own, coaxing up more and more pre-cum that he would in turn wipe all over his face. Tim was getting close and the time for release was at hand.

As they had done on their first meeting, they locked their legs together and started jerking each other off forcefully. Dick to dick, fist to fist, they were like one unit of sexual energy. They were wet with sweat. Their crotches were pools of pre-cum, sweat and saliva. Chris started first, with Tim shooting a millisecond behind. Their young balls churned out ropes of cum: Tim's first two spasms splashed the underside of his chin; an arc of Chris' cum filled a little pool above his collar bone. The remaining spasms coated their chests, stomachs and crotches. When they were both spent, they again embraced tightly and their cum commingled in their embrace and the sweet smell of their passion rose to their nostrils.

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As they kissed, Chris and Tim were happy. Together they had found fulfillment. Next time, perhaps they would move on further into unexplored territory. Chris had awakened the night before, cumming, in a dream of eating out Tim's ass. Tim had similarly dreamed of Chris sitting on his dick. But that was for next time.

Tim now stood up and stretched. He took his cum-soaked jock off and used it as a cloth to wipe down his hot body. He wouldn't wash it. Later, one whiff and he would be in ecstasy. Chris cleaned up in a similar fashion. These boys were whipped! They bent down and took off their shoes and turned to head for the showers. After their first liaison, the shower they took afterward, though only made up of soapy massage and warm embrace, was almost as powerful as the sex they had enjoyed.

Coach Miller was standing about six feet away when they saw him. Needless to say, they were surprised. Coach Miller was a fantasy object for every male or female at their high school. He was 28, and when Tim considered the people he knew that he'd like to fuck, Coach Miller was the one. When Tim would try and wake up early, one thing that would get him going would be to fantasize about Coach Miller. He would get hard, get up, jerk off and start his day.

He wasn't thinking about that now. They both were speechless.

Coach Miller looked pretty steely. "Chris, put your gear back on and head home. Tim, go grab a towel. I want to have a word with you in my office."

Tim went down and grabbed a gym towel that barely covered him. With a look back, Chris headed out. Coach Miller picked up Tim's jock and marched down to his office. He dropped the jock down on his desk and sat down in his chair. Tim stood there, nearly naked, but for some reason felt he had a lot of power in the situation.

"Sit down, Tim. I've got some advice for you."

"So, you finally went for the big prize, eh Tim?" said Coach somewhat mockingly. Tim wanted to pick up his cummy jock that lay on the desk and wipe the smirk off Coach's face with his cum.

Tim didn't know what Coach's game was. He always struck him as eminently cool, not someone hurtful or judgemental. Tim felt fine sitting there, half-covered with a towel and the smell of sweat and cum rising off his young body.

Coach had come back from a run when he stumbled upon the two boys in the locker room, and his hot 28 year-old frame was glowing with perspiration. He was wearing a large, loose-fitting tank top that was soaked with sweat. One reason that Coach was such a fantasy object around the high school was his hot body and the fact that he did not dress as the traditional coach; no polyester shorts, shirt and whistle with knee socks for Coach Miller. He was wearing black lycra shorts that stopped a few inches above his knees, short ankle socks and running shoes. He leaned back in his chair; the sweaty tank top covered his crotch. Tim wanted him.

"You know you could have anyone in this school, Tim. You're 18, you've got the best body/looks combination here and you're graduating in three months. Why are you wasting your time with Chris?"

Tim was pissed. Who the fuck was Coach Miller to sit there and comment on his choice of fuck-buddy? Did he know how hard it is to hook up in high school with other guys? Tim knew he wanted to fuck boys and he was beginning to come into his own with that opinion. His shyness had always held him back and was the excuse for why the hunky boy was without female companionship. Tim was ready to drop his shyness and get what he wanted out of life.

"You think I should be dating a cheerleader and dreaming of copping a feel of tit and some drive-in and then going home and jacking off thinking of how I rubbed her shoulder? Fuck that, Coach. I don't know how much of what you saw back there, but Chris and I were fucking each other and if you can't deal with that, too bad."

Tim was a little surprised by the strength of his response. Coach laughed.

"You weren't fucking, buddy boy, you were sucking each other off and jacking off like a couple of 13-year olds. You don't have the body of 13 year-old, so why do you act like one?"

"Why do you expect me to do," he asked Coach. He propped his foot up on the edge of Coach's desk. Coach had a full view of Tim's crotch.

"For one thing, don't act like a precocious little fuck, flashing me your dick. Stand up and drop that towel."

Tim sat there. "Stand up, kid and look at yourself in the mirror. Do it!"

The last thing Tim wanted was a lecture about how he shouldn't be wasting his time on fucking around with other boys. He stood up in front of the mirror and dropped his towel.

Coach stood behind him. "You're a beautiful man, Tim. Like a statue, perfectly formed. Your feet, your calves, thighs, cock, balls, torso, arms, face, hair. Turn around. Your back, your ass. You have the body and looks to get anything you want in life, and I don't want to see you waste it." Coach's voice had a hypnotic quality.

"Here's a little news flash, Tim. I like fucking men, too. And I mean really fucking. I won't fuck you; I'd like to, but fucking a student is just a little too risky. I don't want to see you waste your time. Embrace who you are and start going for what you want. How'd you hook up with Chris? Did you stumble upon him jacking off and join him?"

"Pretty much," said Tim, feeling more and more the novice, but happy to have someone to talk to.

"Why don't you go after Carl Thomas. He'd let you fuck him in an instant."

Carl Thomas was a senior, a swimmer, and an adonis. Tim was shocked by Coach's suggestion.

"Carl Thomas, the great seducer of women? Did you happen to see him fucking around in the locker room too?"

"No," said Coach, but I've seen him look at you and trust me: when I was in high school, secretly checking out the guys, I learned all the tricks, and Carl wants you."

Tim's dick stirred at the thought of fucking Carl. One of Tim's first overt homo acts was stealing a pair of Carl's speedos and using them for serious jack off inspiration.

"So Tim. That's my assignment for you. Find yourself; seduce Carl and get what you want out of your life. Don't be shy because those around you won't accept what you are. Find people who will accept you and then talk to me about what's going on with you."

Tim and Coach would talk in the months ahead, but Tim had his own agenda.

"Okay, Coach. On your advice, I'll try and fuck Carl, but there's something else I want."

"Shoot," said Coach, gathering his stuff, getting ready to leave.

"I want you to fuck me."

"No way, jocko. Too much trouble."

Tim spit into his hand and re-activated his cum-slicked dick and immediately grew throbbingly hard. "How will I know how to fuck Carl if I've never fucked or been fucked? I want you Coach. You said you wanted me. Lift up your shirt and show me that you're not hard and I'll go jack off, alone, in the shower."

"Tim... I can't do that." Tim went for it and grabbed Coach's tank top and was delighted to see a tree trunk erection heavily constrained by coach's lycra shorts, topped off by a large shiny pre-cum soaked area.

"Fuck yes," said Tim. Tim stroked his own cock and licked the resultant pre-cum off of his hand.

"You want to do it, Tim. You really want me to fuck you, with this?" Coach took of his shirt and grabbed his dick through his shorts.

"Fuck yes, Coach. Fuck me with that!" Coach walked over and locked his door. Tim stood there stroking his dick and rubbing his pecs. His breathing was heavy and he felt more sexually charged than at any moment in his young life.

"Put your jock on," ordered Coach. "If you want me to fuck you, it's going to be on my terms."

Tim took the cummy jock from the desk. "Put it on backwards," barked Coach.

Tim looked at Coach, confused. "Just do it, buddy boy." Coach's voice was totally turning Tim on. He turned the jock around and putting it on felt the slimy pouch creep up his ass crack.

Using his forearm, Coach cleared his desk off with one sweep. "Lie on your stomach." Tim laid down and his already slimy cock leaked more precum on the desktop. Grabbing Tim's thighs, Coach spread the boy's legs and then dove into his asscrack tasting Tim's sweat and cum. He chewed the material and soaked it with saliva. He then pulled the elastic aside and Tim almost came as Coach's tongue worked its way up Tim's asshole. "Fuck yes!" cried Tim.

After slicking up Tim's virgin ass with his tongue, Coach then inserted one finger and then another. Tim was blown away by what he was feeling and his pre-cum flow became a river as Coach's fingers made their way to Tim's prostate.

Coach was suprised at how relaxed Tim's tight hole was. Tim met the thrusts of Coach's fingers with his own backwards thrusting. "Give me your cock, Coach," moaned Tim as he looked backwards.

Coach kept up his finger work as he pulled down his lycra shorts. His cock was straining against his totally pre-cum soaked jock. Tim looked back in awe as Coach freed his eight-inch cock. It was thicker than Tim's, smoother too, with a nice pearly goo streaming out. Coach's balls were big, and tight.

"Turn over," said Coach. Coach gently stroked Tim's dick and he reached into his drawer and pulled out a condom and put it on. Tim was in a trance-like state, in anticipation of the fucking he was about to get. Coach pulled Tim up to him and they mouth-fucked. No slight against Chris, but Coach knew his way around a man's mouth. Holding Tim's face, Coach looked at him deeply and asked him, "Are you ready for this?" In a breathy whisper Tim answered, "Fuck me, Coach."

Coach proceeded to do so, with Coach holding onto Tim's beefy thighs. Coach would slow his pace and reach up stroking Tim's pecs, and giving the occasional jerk on Tim's meat. Tim was lost in passion. Tim was just as much fucking Coach with his own thrusts. "Let's go for it Tim."

They increased their pace. Tim started playing with his balls and jacking his own dick. Coach pulled out, rolled off the condom and started jacking too. Tim had his powerful legs wrapped around Coach's torso. They started coming together. Coach sprayed Tim's face with a heavy stream. Tim's cum was arcing high and splashing his chest and stomach.

When they regained awareness, Tim pulled Coach on top of him and they shared the taste of Coach's cum in their mouths. Coach looked at Tim.

"You little fucking seducer. I always said I'd never fuck a student."

"It won't happen again Coach," Tim said with a mischevious cum-soaked grin.

"Until the next time."

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