After basketball practice I had to stay late and run laps for the new coach. After a year on the varsity team I thought that I had proven myself on the court. My playing had gotten better and Coach Morris was starting me in every game. Then Morris up and had a heart attack and the school replaced him with this hard-ass. Coach Banks was a retired coach and instructor at a military academy and he took the job mid-season. He thought he still was in the army and not a suburban high school and kept us on a ridiculous practice schedule. He also started mandatory workouts with punishments and demerits and detention. I was pretty pissed at all the changes and probably let him know more than I should have.
"Okay, Reilly! You wanna open that fat mouth of yours every time you don't like something, you can do 100 laps! Now!" "But, coach, the game is on and I was going to..." I said. It was the NCAA tourney and I did not want to miss any of the games. "Stop whining, you little pussy, and start running! Put some of that energy to good use." He retreated into his office and left me alone in the gym to start running laps. _f_u_c_k_! This guy is an asshole. All my friends left already and I was alone. I figured I would miss the first quarter anyway so I did not put any effort into running fast. Despite my slow pace, I was dripping with sweat from practice and the hot gym and had sweated through my t-shirt already. After only about 15 laps, Coach Banks came out of his office dripping and toweling his hair. He had taken a shower and had changed from his warmup suit into jeans. He did not have a shirt on and his chest and arms were pretty well-developed although he had a bit of a potbelly. His body was covered with dense hair, mostly black but with gray patches on his chest. I realized that despite my macho basketball image, I looked like a pretty scrawny kid next to him. "How many, Reilly?" He barked. "Thirty" I panted as I approached him. He grabbed my arm as I ran by and yanked me into a headlock. The shock of it combined with his huge arm on my neck made me feel like I was suffocating. "Listen, Reilly. Your attitude better change AND FAST. Or you can forget about playing any game, let alone starting. You're lying about the laps. Fifty more, punk!" and with that he shoved me away and went back in his office.
After I finally finished all those laps, I was too tired to even bother changing so I just grabbed my gear from the locker room and ran out past the smirking asshole coach. I walked straight home hoping to just hit the kitchen, shower, and bed in that order. As I walked up the driveway, though, I saw the overgrown lawn and inwardly groaned. I had forgotten that I was supposed to mow the loan after school. I could hear my father and his buddies shouting in the house at the game on our wide-screen TV. There were 5 men in the TV room including my father and...Mr. Banks! I could not believe it! He must have driven past me walking home. The sonofabitch did not even offer me a ride. They all had already polished off a case of beer and were working on a second case and the first quarter had just ended. I figured I would skip the game and go straight to the shower so I turned to run upstairs. But my father called after me, "Hey, we need some more chips in here, RJ!" "Dad, I'm tired and sweaty. I need to eat and take a shower first." "Now, son! You already forgot to mow the lawn so you'll need to do that now too." "But, dad, it's late and getting dark..." SMACK! Right across the face he hit me. "Don't talk back to me, boy! You're already in deep _s_h_i_t_." Jesus, my face stung--he really was pretty wasted so I didn't bother to argue. So I went to the kitchen and gathered more chips and junk for them to stuff their old potbellied ex-ball player bodies and carried it back in.
As I refilled the bowls and trays, Coach Banks leaned over and said, "What stinks in here? Smells like a horse pissed in an old sneaker." Everyone laughed and my father said, "Take off those clothes, you're stinking up the place." I turned to go again but my father blocked my way. "Where are you going?" I answered, "To take a shower and change. You just told me..." "No. Stay here. We may need more beer." I looked at the coolers they had right next to the TV with what looked like 8 cases of beer bottles in them. "There's only 4 quarters in a football game," I said sarcastically. The tone in my voice must have set him off because he was on me, moving fast for an overweight and drunk guy in his late 40s. "That's it!" he shouted in my face. "I'm tired of your smartass mouth." He grabbed me by the neck and dragged me alongside the coffee table. With one swing of his arm, he dumped the bowls and food and beer bottles onto the floor and pushed me over the table. He immediately started beating my ass with his hand. He was pushing my face into the table and I struggled up against his hand holding my neck down. All I could see was the game on TV but I could hear his buddies half shouting at the game and half egging my father on. Especially Coach Banks? "Yeah, Bill, give it to him good. The brat deserves it. Hit him harder--you gotta make him feel it through his pants." My father stopped spanking me. "Yeah, you're right. Get up! Strip off those stinking clothes." I slid off the table with tears in my eyes, quietly cursing my coach. I stood up and started to take off my clothes. "Get outta the way, kid!" they shouted at me because I was blocking the TV. So I went over behind the couch and took off my sweaty workout clothes. I stood there in just my jockstrap, socks and sneakers rubbing my sore asscheeks. A touchdown was just scored so their attention was diverted and I thought they would forget about me. But my father walked over to a cooler and got another beer and then walked behind the couch next to me watching and cursing the TV the entire time. He took one long swig of his beer and set it down on the floor. "Lean over" is all he spat out as he unhooked his belt from his pants. "No, dad, please, not here." I was embarrassed enough at having to strip down in front of his buddies, but to have to endure a bare ass belt strapping in front of them AND MY COACH was mortifying. He pushed me down over the back of the couch but I kept struggling back up thinking he was too drunk to be so coordinated. "Hey, Carl, grab my smartass son." "Sure, man. Would be glad to." The coach leaned across the couch and pulled my arms over so I it looked like I was humping the couch and he held my head against his shoulder. And for the second time that day I had the coach sneering in my face..."Yeah, punk, you really deserve this. And I can't wait to get a piece of you myself." Before I had a chance to say something smart back, I felt the first whizz and sting of my father's belt against my bare ass. The sound was enough to be heard over the TV and all eyes turned toward me. My father kept it up hitting me with the belt but he was too drunk to be able to hit my ass each time and his strokes hit my thighs, lower back, even my calves a few times. I moaned into the coach's shoulder and chest from the pain. But if I expected any sympathy from him or the others, I was not getting any. "_f_u_c_k_, Bill, yeah...teach the kid a lesson." "_s_h_i_t_! Wish all my smartass kids were here to see this and be scared straight." "Yeah, man, let me have a chance." But the coach just whispered in my ear, "Yeah, boy, your father is just teaching you a little lesson. Your coach is going to give it to you so bad you won't be able to walk for a week. Maybe a little more, huh? You like it, I bet. Yeah, gets you all hot on the outside, right? Betcha you want me to get you all hot on the inside. Yeah, horny faggot, aren't you?" I squirmed and tried to hold back tears. I cried out loud when I felt the hardest and sharpest stroke yet. I realized my father had turned the belt over to Richard, our big next-door neighbor. Richard must have done this before because every stroke hit my ass in exactly the same spot...and he hit hard. My asscheeks had gone from stinging to a slow burning. But now I could feel my whole ass throbbing like my butt had a giant migraine. I felt my father grab my ass and spread my cheeks exposing my hole to his friend's swats.
I felt the wide belt smack all around my hole. But my father must have spread my cheeks further because the next strike was dead-on. I felt a painful burning sting against the sensitive skin around my hole. The next one was even more painful and I cried out and felt my bladder give. Piss came gushing out of me, into my jock, running down around my balls and legs, soaking the carpet. "Hey, Bill, your boy just wet his pants," Richard stopped and pointed at my wet thighs and the puddle between my legs. "You _f_u_c_k_ing pig! What the hell do you think you're doing?" My father shouted at me while he grabbed me by the hair and shoved me back onto the floor on my sore ass. I was sobbing, "No...uh, I...couldn't..hurts..." "Is that what you are? A _f_u_c_k_in' pig? Is that what you like? Here, I'll give you some, pig!" I looked up and saw my father unzip his jeans and out came his heavy fat _c_o_c_k_, uncut like mine. He peeled back his foreskin and my mouth opened in disbelief. He let loose with a thick stream of warm beer-smelling piss on my yellow-soaked jock. He moved his _d_i_c_k_ up and I felt the warm piss steam against my chest and I tried to move away when his aim brought the spray up my neck to my face, into my eyes, hair, and when I tried to cry out, my mouth. I could not believe how much piss he had in him, I was soaked--then I realized that Richard had undone his pants and a steaming stream of thick yellow piss was coming out of his black _c_o_c_k_ and onto my hair and chest and face. This wasn't happening? Was he that drunk? Were they all that drunk?
When the heavy warm smelling shower slowed to a trickle on my body, I finally opened my eyes again. I looked down at myself and saw my soaked and yellow-stained jock with my half-hard _d_i_c_k_ sticking out the side. While Richard was belting me, my father had stretched the elastic legs of the jock and it no longer stayed up. The hair on my legs was matted down with piss and I saw drops dripping off my nose and hair onto my chest like I had just gotten out of the shower. And there was Richard, our next door neighbor for years, shaking his heavy black _c_o_c_k_ to get the last drips out, right onto my chest. He didn't even look fazed--like he was at a urinal. He turned, picked up his beer and walked back to the front of the couch. "Get up," I heard my father and turned. He was standing over me with his fat _c_o_c_k_ still out of his fly. I started to get to my feet, my ass still sore and burning from the belt, but he grabbed my hair again and turned my head towards him. "Finish it off, boy." I wasn't sure what he meant but he pushed his damp _c_o_c_k_ at my face and when his dripping head and foreskin hit my lips I almost vomited. I opened my mouth in a choke but that was all he needed. He forced his _c_o_c_k_ into my mouth past my teeth. "Clean it off! Come on! Lick it!" I couldn't believe it. Tears came to my eyes as I started to move my tongue. I felt it make contact with his foreskin and it slid involuntarily under the hood and onto his thick wet _c_o_c_k_head. I heard him moan and his _c_o_c_k_head swelled a little. Then he sighed and I felt one last gush of liquid from my father's _c_o_c_k_. Not cum. More piss. Warm and acrid and bitter from the beer. Some of it spilled over my lips and down my chin. The rest I swallowed to keep from choking on it. I opened my eyes and looked up and saw my father taking another swig of beer from the bottle. He didn't even look down. I could see the Coach now standing next to my father and leering down at me. Richard said, "Hey, half-time is almost over, guys" and my father pulled his _c_o_c_k_ out of my mouth and went over and plopped himself down on the couch. Never looking at me once.
"Never knew you were such a faggot, Reilly. You know this means your ass is mine now and for the rest of your varsity career" With that he lifted his shirt over his head and for the second time in less than 3 hours I saw the Coach barechested, muscular and hairy. I didn't move and just stayed on my knees. I did not know what to do. Coach Banks calmly undressed in front of me while the rest of them started watching the second half, ignoring what was happening behind the couch. When he was down to his boxerbriefs, I could see the coach's hard _c_o_c_k_ straining at the ribbed fabric. There was a huge wet spot covering the head and making the fabric so translucent I could see the wide-flanged purple head. I don't know why it happened, but in my vulnerable and beaten position and looking at that huge tool I started to get hard...real hard. "Take off my shorts." I reached up and he smacked my arms away and said in a disgusted tone, "No, pig. With your teeth." I leaned forward and my mouth made contact with the damp stretched fabric. As my lips and teeth closed down on the front of the tented shorts I could taste the precum and his pungent sweat. I moved my head down dragging the shorts down his hairy thighs. When his thick _c_o_c_k_ was released it spring up like a taut wire. When I got down to his ankles, he calmly stepped out of them and took the shorts from my mouth. I looked up at the thick, veined _c_o_c_k_ sprouting from the coach's thick, dark bush. It was wide at the base but got surprisingly thicker until it ended 9 inches later in a cut, wide head, the size and color of a ripe plum. The head was shiny and moist and a thick droplet of precum was poised right at the coach's huge piss-slit--it looked like you could insert a thick pen in his slit without touching the skin. My mouth watered and without realizing it, I leaned forward to take it in my mouth. But he smacked me away again and pushed my head to the floor. "Suck my toes." What? I was ready to suck his _c_o_c_k_ and he wanted me to lick his toes? I looked up at him but his face was serious. I opened my mouth and took his big toe in onto my tongue. Before long I was humping my hard _c_o_c_k_ against the carpet and licking and sucking his toes, between his toes, the soles of his feet, the hairs on the back of each toe. Then up his ankles and across his hairy calves. My face got scratched against his wiry hair as I worked my way up to his thighs and then his hairy, low hanging ballsac. Just as I made contact with his scrotum and was about to suck one testicle into my mouth, he turned around and stretched his asscheeks apart and pushed his crack at my face. I took a deep breath and smelled his thick odor and buried my nose into his hairy crack. I could only breathe a little and my tongue circled through the hairs until I felt a soft, silky patch of skin. My sensitive tongue felt the pucker of his ass and I could feel his heartbeat throb against my tongue. I pushed my tongue hard and made the tip enter his hole. It was warm and at first I did not taste anything--I was overcome with the desire to get my tongue all the way inside him. I was going crazy and was now rubbing my _c_o_c_k_ against the back of his hairy calves as I ate put his ass. I don't know if he knew how hot I was or if he felt my _c_o_c_k_ make 2 or 3 involuntary spurts of precum on his legs but he yanked his ass out of my face, turned and grabbed me by my hair, and in one violent shove at my lips, forced his _c_o_c_k_ deep into my throat. He _f_u_c_k_ed my mouth roughly and I kept gagging and choking but my tongue had a mind of its own and tried probing his wide piss-slit in the same way I was probing his asshole a moment ago. I wanted to taste his cum -- I wanted all of his _c_o_c_k_ in my mouth. But just as violently as he started, he roughly yanked out and stopped.
Without a word, he pushed me onto all fours and got behind me. I felt his hard _c_o_c_k_ throbbing against the back of my thighs and heard him spit and felt a gob hit my crack. He roughly worked his spit into my hole and his fingernails scratched and hurt the skin, still sensitive from the belt. The feel of his _c_o_c_k_head against my hole was unmistakable. This was no finger. He used one hand to guide his thick head into my tight hole. I was gasping and biting my tongue with each exertion of pressure. Then with both hands on my hips he pushed hard into me, burying his shaft in my virgin ass in one stroke. The pain! I thought I was going to faint. It stabbed and I felt like my insides were being pushed out. His strokes were fast and long. All the way in and all the way out. A few times he fell out of my ass on an outstroke and his violent push forward resulted in a sharp stab to the back of my balls. And his pubic hair felt like a wire brush against the welts formed on my ass from the belt. After what felt like hours of painful torture I felt his rhythm increasing. And he changed his angle slightly making his _f_u_c_k_ing not only more comfortable but now he was hitting something inside of me (my prostate?) And it was making me feel woozy and good. Before I knew it, I was close to cumming. My first 3 squirts of cum came out without me feeling anything...then a delayed contraction of my body and I felt the biggest orgasm I had ever had. And the coach must have felt my ass clamping down on his _c_o_c_k_ shaft because he stopped stroking and just shoved his _c_o_c_k_ once long and deep into me and I felt his teeth bite into my shoulder as he groaned. I could feel his violent shaking of his orgasm and I could even feel my ass filling up with warm cum like someone had stuck a whipped cream nozzle in my ass. Except this was burning hot whipped cream. Our bodies were slick with sweat and my back was scratched by his chest hairs. But he did not let go and pull out of me. "Man, Reilly." I heard him whisper in my ear. "You are going to have to stay late after EVERY practice until you graduate." I smiled but I got excited too quickly. His voice quickly changed tone and he continued, "Because your faggot ass _f_u_c_k_s as badly as you play ball. Now I need to take a piss and get back to the game." And without pulling out of me, he leaned back slightly and I felt more pressure inside my ass. More liquid. And the quickly filling volume and warmth told me that this was more piss. And there was a lot of it. I could feel it filling me until it started running out my ass and down my thighs, mingled with his cum and the piss I had endured before. I fell onto my stomach when he yanked his softening but still thick _c_o_c_k_ out of my now numb ass. I lay there in a puddle of my own cum and piss and the cum and piss of my father and these men. "Hey, Banks, field goal, gotta see this. _f_u_c_k_ing great. Hey, RJ, get another round of beers for everyone."