The Rugby Coach

I must have been 18 at the time. I had got half way to the bus stop with my mates when I realised my bus pass was not in my pocket and it occurred to me I must have dropped it in the changing rooms. My mates carried on while I hurried back, my sports back over my shoulder as I ran as fast as I could back to the park where we had rugby practice.

I saw Mr Edwards' car still parked outside and was relieved to find the main door open. As I entered the old, run-down building, a strong musky scent hung thick in the air and I could hear the sound of running water from the shower block.

I located my bus pass wallet in the changing room under the wooden bench and noticed Mr Edwards' open sports bag--and the just-poking-out jock strap.  I put my hand against it and closed my eyes as I felt the still warm fabric between my fingers. Knowing it had moments earlier encased his cock and balls was enough to get my own cock reacting.

The rugby coach was my man crush and everything about him I found alluring: his slightly scruffy, mousy hair, the stubble on his face, the deep voice, stocky build and his blunt nature. Mr Edwards had filled in once for sex education class when the usual teacher was off sick. Our usual teacher struggled to even use clinical words like penis, masturbation and ejaculation and stuttered with each pronunciation. Mr Edwards, however, was more than comfortable and even used slang terms as he discussed things in an open and refreshing way. I swear my dick twitched each time he said "spunk," "cock," "wank" and "hard-on." Just hearing those words spoke loudly and confidently from his lips was an aphrodisiac.

The sound of rushing water still echoed through the empty changing rooms and curiosity got the better of me and I made my way to the shower block. As I got to the end of the hall I cautiously edged into the shower block and then my eyes widened as I felt my heart start pounding in my chest.  There, facing the tiled wall under the rushing water of the shower, stood Mr Edwards: bare-ass naked and looking amazing. His broad shoulders and the way his upper back tapered down to his chunky, perfectly shaped ass, the muscular thick thighs like tree trunks and large bulging calves. I watched in wonderment as the water cascaded over his muscular body and soap suds dripped down to the tiled floor around his big feet.  Then to my amazement, Mr Edwards turned around and my eyes went directly down to where his large hand gripped firm around his fully erect cock as he rubbed a layer of soapy lather over his shaft and his hairy balls bounced around. He slowed his hand motion and pulled forward with his clenched fist causing the foreskin to gather up over the tip and then he held it there for a moment before drawing it back bit by bit to expose the swollen head beneath until it was fully on show.

The head of his prick was engorged and splendid as his fist froze in position at the base of his shaft. I glanced up to his face where his eyes were tightly closed and his mouth open as he gasped and drops of water passed his lips.

I could feel my pulse racing as his hand began to move again, his motion increasing with each stroke of his thick, erect shaft as he wanked harder and harder, his knees bending as he arched his back all the while his eyes shut tight. I heard him groan loudly and swear as veins in his neck now stood pronounced.

"Oh fuck yeah, fucking hell yeah," he gasped in his deep raspy voice. "Yeah ,I am going to fucking spunk," he added as his body visibly tensed up.

His hand paused at the base of his shaft drawing his foreskin back fully as his body quivered. He stared down at his prick and then like a fountain, a load of cum shot from his piss slit in several thick streams one after the other in quick succession. He huffed and puffed, pulling his foreskin forward and draining the last drops of spunk from his shaft before stepping back letting the water rush over him.

I made my way back to the changing room and figured he would still be a few more minutes showering so I pulled the jock strap free from his bag and quickly placed it against my nose and mouth. I deeply inhaled the rich musky odours that filled his pouch and felt a heady rush as my cock throbbed with approval. I stuffed the jock quickly back in the sports bag and heard a voice behind me.

"Fuck! I thought it was that pervy janitor again," I heard Mr Edwards saying, as he stood there holding his towel in front of his groin while water pooled from his wet torso onto the floor.

"Sorry, sir, I dropped my bus pass out of my trousers," I replied, my voice flustered as I glanced down to where he let the towel drop to his side, exposing his still semi-hard cock that jutted out at an angle.

"Okay--so long as you were not spying on me having a wank," he said with a grin and a wink.

"No Sir!" I responded quickly, my gaze dancing between his eyes and his crotch. He laughed, then moved towards me and where his bag was, while giving his prick a tug.

"I always get the chronic horn after rugby practice so I have a good wank. Can't beat a good soapy wank in the shower... can you?" he said before grinning.

My cock throbbed hearing him say the words and it was just as horny hearing him admit his actions as spying on him doing it.  I nodded, feeling my face blush and Mr Edwards began to dry his shoulders and upper back in an exaggerated fashion, which made his cock slap from side to side on his legs. I gulped as I desperately tried to keep eye contact and failed as the sound of slapping alone was enough to make me look down.

"So was there anything else?" he asked.

"Sorry, sir?" I said, my attention quickly returning to his eyes.

"Well, you have your bus pass... was there anything else you needed?"

"No sir," I said, and with that I grabbed my bag and left him to dry off, the images running over and over in my mind like a movie until I got home and beat off a few good loads.