Page 5 of The Coach

Despite ourselves, we had all sort of grown on each other. Yeah, I knew the boys sometimes called me Hulk behind my back, but I didn’t mind it—I actually kind of liked it. I worked hard to keep my body in top shape, and if they thought my figure resembled that of a Marvel superhero, I’ll take it. As a kid, I used to idolize guys like Lou Ferrigno, striving to attain that kind of physique, so it sort of made sense.

I figured I’d give them half an hour to finish getting dressed and leave before I use the showers myself, asusual. Back in my day, coaches used to shower with the team and no one batted an eye. But in this age ofmodern sensibilities, when everything was overanalyzed and oversexualized, I didn’t want to be labeled a creep. Or worse. Of course, a private shower adjacent to my office was too much to hope for; I didn’t have much choice but to use the communal ones. Honestly, I was surprised to see that the locker room still had open showers—those, too, were going the way of the dinosaurs. Individual stalls were the norm now, because God forbid your pals see you naked. Reminiscing about all the camaraderie and fun I used to have while showering with my teammates, I felt sorry for all the young guys who would never experience it. The damp clothes clung to my sweaty back as a reminder, but I tried to ignore it, waiting for the coast to clear.

Half an hour later, after all the ruckus had finally died down, I stood up from my desk and walked into the locker room. Thank fuck, it was empty. I wasted no time in taking off my sneakers and socks, pulling down my track pants and briefs, and stripping off my T-shirt. I threw the discarded clothes on the nearest bench, grabbed a clean towel from the rack, and headed for the showers, the sweat now cold and sticky on my naked body. That’s when I thought I heard a low, muted gasp. Was there someone still using the shower? There was no sound of running water. Maybe I just imagined it.

After I turned the corner and stepped into the shower area, I was faced with the naked truth. One of the boyswasstill there, standing under the farthest showerhead with his back turned to me. He didn’t hear me coming, didn’t know I was standing there, watching him, and I considered what to do. Should I go back to my office and wait until he finishes? But I was already undressed, ready to go under the water, and I didn’t have all day. Oh, fuck it. He was an adult. And he was exposed to male nudity every day. It won’t be the end of the world if he shares a shower with his coach this one time.

The boy then did something that stopped me in my tracks. As he bent forward and stuck his ass out, one of his hands went behind his back and between his buttcheeks. For a moment it seemed like he was rubbing his crack. But he wasn’t washing himself. He was fingering his hole.

Looks like I wouldn’t be using the shower after all. I mean, I knew guys jerked off in there all the time. I didn’t mind it. Hell, I used to do it too. But not with your coach standing there, watching. Not to mention how awkward the poor fellow would feel if I suddenly busted him. Damn those horny college brats! Can’t keep their hands off of themselves to save their souls. Having no more patience to wait in my office until the kid left, I resigned myself to a dank, stinky trip home.

Just as I was about to leave, the boy turned to face me. It was Tyler.

Eyes closed, unsuspecting, he slumped against the wall and slid down into a crouching position. His right hand was busy on his cock, the left one down between his legs, pushing into his hole. Mouth opened, a slight frown on his blissed-out face, his expression was more open and vulnerable than I had ever seen him.

I’ll be damned. It’s always the quiet ones.

I knew it was wrong to spy on him, and I was already standing there for far too long. Yet for some reason I still didn’t move. Looking at how his hand pumped his cock, how his fingers slid into his tight pink hole, I was mesmerized. Then I felt my own cock twitch and start to swell. That did the trick. Like waking up from a spell, guilt and shame washed over me. And as I forced myself to move, Tyler began to cum, jets of creamy spunk shooting up from his cock, his eyes still shut in ecstasy, his face flushed and beautiful.

I didn’t stay to see the rest. Rushing back to the locker room, my cock slapping my tights with each stride, I grabbed my clothes and dressed myself as fast as I could. I was already half-dressed when I noticed my briefs lying there on the floor under the bench. In my haste I forgot to put them on, going commando under my track pants. Marching into my office, I made a mental note to pick them up on my way out. As I rummaged through my things looking for a clean shirt, I could hear the water running from the showers, then stop. I presumedTyler was washing the cum off, but I didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out.

Snatching the shirt from my gym bag, I jumped out of my office, almost sprinting, and locked the door before I even had the chance to put it on. When I turned around, Tyler stepped into the locker room and our eyes met. Still naked and dripping, he held a towel in front of his crotch. Both of us stood speechless for a moment, shocked at the sight of each other. His gaze was locked with mine, then went down across my bare torso and landed on my groin.

“Davidson,” I said, putting on my shirt and feigning surprise. “Still here?”

“Coach,” he said, finally wrapping the towel around his waist. “Yeah, I… I was…”

“Gotta rush, son,” I said, cutting him off and darting out of the locker room. “See you tomorrow.”

Son? I thought as I walked across the parking lot to my car. I sounded like some sixty-year-old talking to a child. Jesus, what was I so rattled about? Like I haven’t seen guys jerking off before? But the truth is, I didn’t, not like this. Not playing with their hole, pushing their fingers inside like it was the most wonderful thing in the world. Was Tyler gay? Or was this something the guys did now—some Gen Z thing? It never even occurred to me to try it myself. That must be it, a fascination with discovering something novel.

Snapping out of my reverie, I noticed a petite blonde leaning against my car. Shit. I totally forgot I was giving Mandy a ride home. She was a Psych instructor who lived a street away from me. During the past few weeks, we sort of became friends. Not sure how that happened, because I wasn’t exactly the most affable person around. Maybe because we were the newest two at Williams. Or the fact that she was the most welcoming of the lot. She was nice to me from the start and I appreciated having a friend at a new job, in an unfamiliar town. Two days ago her car broke down, so I offered to drive her until she got it fixed.

“Sorry,” I grumbled as I strode to her. “The practice ran longer than I expected.”

She smiled and waved her hand. “Oh, it’s quite all right. It’s not like I’m in a hurry to get anywhere.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I unlocked the car and got in, while she settled into the passenger seat. For a moment I wondered if I should’ve opened the door for her, but I didn’t want to send the wrong signals. We were just friends, nothing more. Besides, women these days didn’t like that chauvinistic shit, and although I suspected Mandy wasn’t one of them, I decided to err on the side of caution.

Despite changing my shirt, the sour whiff of sweat hit my face in the warm, enclosed space. “Sorry about the stink,” I said, opening the car windows. “I didn’t have the chance to shower yet.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, her cheeks flushed. “I find the aroma decidedly masculine. It adds to the whole jock shtick.”

I never knew if she was serious or joking, so I simply grunted before she burst into laughter. Did she just glance at my crotch? I suppose I imagined it, too self-conscious because I was freeballing and these track pants were kind of clingy. Damn, I realized I forgot my dirty underwear in the locker room. Well, too late now. Adjusting myself in my seat, I started the car and reversed out of my parking space, the late afternoon sun making me squint.

As we drove away from the campus, Mandy started talking about her day, telling me a story about something that happened during her class. I barely registered her words. My mind was elsewhere, busy replaying the scene from the showers over and over again.

Tyler had one of the juiciest asses I’ve ever seen. It was round and full like a girl’s, only more muscular. It seemed smooth, too, at least from a distance, wet and shiny like it had been oiled. I had always been an ass-man, and to me, a cute derriere was the most alluring part of a woman’s body. The key word here being ‘woman.’ I had never admired a guy’s ass before. What the fuck? I know it has been ages since I got laid, but I never imagined I would start getting turned on by other men. Was Ithatblue-balled?

“You’re awfully quiet today,” Mandy remarked after some time. Only then did I realize she had stopped talking and we drove in silence for several minutes. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, I’m just thinking about tomorrow’s practice,” I said, hoping she would buy it. We may have grown close, but I still wasn’t comfortable opening up and sharing personal stuff with her. Or anyone, for that matter.

She put her small hand on top of mine. “Well, you know I’m here if you ever need someone to talk to. About anything.” Maybe it was just my imagination, but I could swear I felt her finger caress my wedding ring before she withdrew her hand from mine. She knew that my wife was dead. Without going into details, I’ve told her that much. She never made any remarks, but I knew what she must have thought:why do you still wear the ring? It’s what everyone else thought, too. But fuck them; I still wasn’t ready to let it go. I wasn’t ready to let Jen go. It had only been three years. In my heart, I was still a married man.

Thankfully, we reached her house and I stopped the car, keeping the engine going. “Thanks,” I said. “See you tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at nine.”

She sighed, realizing the conversation was over. “Bye, Blake.”

---