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The team trainer

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by Bart132 This is a true story about a gay experience I had when I was a senior in high school. I was eighteen, knew I like to see my buddies naked in the locker room, but never dreamed there were other guys I knew who shared my real sexual interest and orientation. I was terribly naïve. I was also always horny and always semi-hard when I was in the locker room, whether I was naked or not. I was a good athlete and had a hard, muscled, athletic body. It was early in the football season. Practice always started fifteen minutes after the last class of the day. I was a split end; did a lot of running. It was typical for the trainer to tape my ankles before every practice. The trainer that season was a college age dude who was student teaching that fall semester. He was only four years older than me. He was tall, blonde, muscled, built just like the hot guys in my jerk off fantasies. I secretly drooled about his hot body all the time. My locker room horniness was becoming a problem whenever he was in sight….which was often, since he was the trainer and taped my ankles everyday. Normally, I would get to the locker room about ten minutes earlier than the other guys. I would get changed into a tee shirt and gym shorts and Brad, the trainer, would be there to get my ankles taped. All designed to save time and get me on the practice field at the same time as my buds. Often, when I was sitting with my legs out in front of me on the training table, Brad would chit chat about practice and what the coach was saying about my performance, but he would keep his eyes directed at my crotch. It drove me crazy because I was so uncertain about what he was doing. Was he really trying to look at the size of my package? Was I just wishful thinking? Was he really thinking about wanting to touch my cock? I hoped that might be the case, but just couldn’t convince myself that Brad might be the same kind of guy as me. He never did anything more overt than look….until that perfect day…. That day I got to the locker room late. Everyone else was just headed out the door to the practice field. Brad saw me come in late and acted really exasperated. I apologized and went directly to my locker and started to get out of my clothes. I hadn’t even unlocked and opened my locker to get my shirt, shorts, jock and socks. I was naked, with my clothes in a pile at my feet. I was working the combination on my locker when Brad walked up behind me, about three feet from me, and said, “forget that dude, if you want your ankles taped, get on the table, you can dress after I’m done. I’ve got to get out there with the coaches….Come on.” I started to say…”just let me grab my shorts”, but Brad interrupted me and said, “Get on the table”. So I did. I was totally naked. Brad was very insistent and went right to work taping my ankles. The first one was done in record time and my anxiety about my exposure lessened a little bit. But, my dick was fluffed up and my balls were hanging low and heavy. When Brad started taping the second ankle, he worked much slower and he started the staring routine, looking directly at my flaccid dick….my big, flaccid, dick. My cut cock in its normal, “soft”, state hangs down five full inches and it is pretty thick. I was never ashamed to be naked with my buddies. They sometimes teased me about my size. Some guys called me “pony” when they wanted to tease or needle me. I was proud of “the man” I had become. With Brad looking right at my equipment, I got kind of nervous. When he looked up and we made I contact, I said, “what?”, because I thought something must be wrong, or he thought I’d done something….so I said, “what?”. He just smiled at me…a smile that just about made me jizz….and said, “I’m real impressed with what I’m seeing, and I just realized what good fortune it was you were late today.” I wasn’t sure he was meaning what I thought he was meaning, and I asked, “why, what do you mean?” He chuckled, looked me straight in the eyes and said, “You kid, are a stallion….and I wish I could do more than tape your ankles, right now.” “Are you horsing me around”, I asked. He didn’t say anything then, he just reached out and gently touch my cock and balls. Rubbing his hand over my crotch, pulling my pubes. My cock was instantly hard. I was petrified. “What if someone comes back in?”. He just through me a towel and said, “Let me stroke it and suck it just for a second.” All I could say was, “ok”. He put his strong hand around my swollen cock and tug on it. My balls, all sloppy and loose, bounced as he made quick strokes. He said, “that is just the most fucking beautiful thing….do you know that?” Before I could say anything he bent and swallowed my whole cock into his mouth. His hot manly lips working the shaft. I felt his teeth on the ridge of my cock head. His head bobbed there between my legs, spread out on the locker room taping table, and then he released me. He looked right into my eyes and said, “Yum”. It was all over in less than a minute. I was thrilled. I felt so fucking masculine. I got into my practice gear and hit the field. I had a great practice. I had a great season. And best of all, I had many more encounters with Brad, the student teacher, trainer. Before he completed his semester of student teaching he had shown me how to suck his cock, to chew and slurp on his balls, to rim his butt hole and how to fuck him in the ass with my big “pony” cock. We never got caught and we never gave our secret away. Brad stills lives in the same community as me, and we still bust a nut together every few weeks. Life is grand.

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