I knew I was in big trouble right away. I was supposed to have been at practice at 3:30, and it was 5:00 when I walked into the gym. The rest of the team was already doing their laps before heading to the showers. The biggest game of the season was the next night, and I wanted to play so bad I could taste it. There was a standing rule that anyone who missed the last practice didn't play the game without special permission from the coach.
I knew he'd be plenty pissed off, but I headed for the coach's office. He was changing into his street clothes when I walked in the door. Dave Alexander was 35 or so, and besides basketball he also coach the wrestling and weight lifting squads. He had a great body, almost perfectly developed, with pecs and abdominals that looked like they belonged on a Greek statue instead of a human. He was pulling his jeans over two of the most perfect buns that ever stared out of a jock strap. I'd never seen him undressed, and the sight almost made me forget why I had come.
When he turned and saw me at the door, his face clouded over and I could see his jaw tighten. "Where in the _f_u_c_k_ have you been? Practice is over, and now you drag you ass in here like nothing happened. Well, my young friend, I hope you enjoy watching the game from the bench tomorrow night, because that's as close to the court as you're going to get!"
My heart dropped like a rock. I just had to play that game. I knew scouts from the big leagues were going to be there, and if I didn't get to show them my stuff, I'd never get the chance again. "Coach Alexander, I'm really sorry I missed practice. I was up this morning till 3 studying for the chemistry final, and I just fell asleep when I went back to the dorm."
Actually I'd been up till 3 studying the anatomy of Michael Forest, the Ft. Lauderdale cop who hit on me that night. I'd been getting my asshole stretched by his "billy club". I had gone back for seconds after class and completely forgotten practice until he had _f_u_c_k_ed me for forty five minutes straight.
"I don't give a good god _d_a_m_n_ why you missed, asshole, you missed, that's all that counts. You're out. Period. End of discussion."
"_d_a_m_n_ it coach, I'll do anything, anything at all to make it up, but I've just got to be in that game!"
"You'll do anything, huh?" He stood still and just stared at me for a second or two. I thought maybe he was going to have me suck him off, the way he was looking at me. "I'll tell you what, boy, you be back here at 7:00 p.m. sharp, and I mean sharp. I'll put you through some special practice of my own, and then maybe I'll reconsider. If you're late, or if you don't show, then don't bother coming to any more practice period. This is all or nothing. You might regret coming here today, boy. Now get out of here till 7."
I'd never seen a look like that on the coach's face before. I didn't know what he had planned, but I was sure the "special practice" wasn't going to be anything I'd forget right away.
I walked through the door of the gym at 6:59:50. The coach was standing under the basket at the far end of the gym. I walked towards him slowly, trying to figure out what I was into. He was wearing a pair of black leather pants that fit like skin. I could see the outline of his _c_o_c_k_ in the leg of the pants. He was hung really good. He had a pair of military combat boots on that were polished like mirrors, and he wasn't wearing a shirt, but the smooth muscles of his upper body were lightly oiled so they shone in the bright gym light.
"Glad to see you decided to make it, boy. I wasn't sure if you had the balls to come or not. You ready to start your 'practice'?"
"Yes, coach, I guess I'm ready, what do you want me to do?" I was surprised that I was able to speak, since I felt like I was shaking like a leaf.
"To start with, boy, you will call me 'Sir', not 'coach', for the rest of the ld feel the blood drain from my face. If the school administration found out I was gay, they would make sure I was never graduated, and Mike's time on the police force would probably be short. I knew I was licked.
"I guess I don't have any choice, then do I? Where's the ball?"
"You mean 'Where's the ball, Sir?', don't you, boy?", sneered the coach. He threw a ball at me. "Start whenever you're ready, boy."
I walked to the foul line and bounced the ball a few times. This was _f_u_c_k_ing weird! I took careful aim, and let the orange ball loose for the basket. It bounced off the front rim.
"Take off your shirt, boy.", Alexander called. He was taking his belt from the loops of the leather pants.
I pulled my T shirt over my head and chased the ball down. I went back to the line, and shot again. This time the ball swished through the hoop. The scoreboard lit up and the number 1 appeared under the home team side.
"Very nice, boy. Keep it up and I won't have to put any stripes across that cute ass of yours."
I made the next 5 in a row, then missed two. I lost my shoes and socks for the misses. All I had left on was my jeans and jockies.
"Gets kind of interesting, now, don't it.", leered the coach.
Shooting bare foot messed up some timing or something and I missed the next shot without ever touching the backboard or the hoop. I didn't even wait to be told, I pulled off the jeans, leaving only my white cotton jockies.
"Lookin' good, boy. Just one more miss and we'll see how you're put together."
I sank three in a row, then the fourth rolled around the rim, but fell out. He started laughing like a hyena.
"Gonna be a long night if you don't start shootin' better, boy. You only got 9 good baskets so far, and now the misses really start costing you. The way you're shooting, you won't be able to sit down for a week." He came off the bench and walked closer to me. "Go ahead, boy, keep shooting."
I felt really strange, being naked as a jaybird in the middle of the gym. I knew I would have to get myself in control. I walked across the gym and picked up the ball, and dribbled it back to the line. I concentrated on the shot, not on the fact that I was bareassed, not on the coach who stood close swinging the belt, just waiting for me to miss. I made 11 in a row. I felt good, having 20 good shots to my credit. I guess I let it go to my head a little, because the next shot bounced off of the backboard and across, not through the hoop.
"Aw, too bad, boy. Earned your first stripe. Grab your ankles, keep your knees straight."
"Come on coach, give me a...Oww!" He had let loose with belt before I could finish my sentence.
"I told you to call my sir, boy. I also told you to bend over. I'm already giving you all the break you get. Now bend."
My butt already burning from the first slap of the belt, I bent as I had been told, and took the penalty for the missed shot. He swung the belt like a baseball bat, and my ass felt like a thousand bee stings.
I was amazed to notice a tingling in my crotch! My _d_i_c_k_ was starting to get hard! I was embarrassed as hell, and hoped the coach wouldn't notice, but couldn't figure any way for him not to see it. I chased after the ball, and started shooting. I made five or six before I missed again. I took the lash of the belt, and my _c_o_c_k_ jumped again.
"Gettin' into it, eh, boy. I can see this turns you on. Nice _c_o_c_k_, too. Maybe we'll do this more often.", murmured my tormentor as he eyed my swelling member.
The harder my _c_o_c_k_ got, the harder it was to shoot. Be the time I finally shot all 50, I had taken 27 strokes of the belt. My ass was on fire, and my _c_o_c_k_ ached for release.
"Think you'll miss practice again, boy?", asked the Coach.
"No, sir. I promise to be good.", I replied. I wanted to see what was going to happen next.
"Well, we have to do something about that _c_o_c_k_ of yours, don't we? Give me your right hand."
I held out my hand, and he squeezed some hand lotion into it. "Why don't you rub it with this, it will feel real good."
This whole scene was getting better, and even the burning in my ass was adding to the turn on. I applied the lotion to my throbbing joystick and started stroking off. Alexander just stood and watched, encouraging me on but never touching me. It didn't take long until I exploded and shot a puddle of cum on the gym floor. I can't remember ever having a more powerful orgasm. He made me lick up my own cum, something I never thought I would be able to do.
"You've done well tonight, boy. If we win tomorrow, I'll have a special surprise for you. If we lose, we're going to do this all over again, except, next time, we'll go for 100 baskets."
All this is going through my head as I stand on the foul line. The score is 95-95, and there is 1 second on the clock. I take the ball, bounce it a couple of times and let it fly...