Coach's Orders

Star swimmer Felix is having trouble concentrating in the water - with all those muscular young bodies sharing it with him, all he can think of is sex. But maybe Coach Dixon can help him work out some of that frustration... after all, it's the Coach's job to make sure his athletes perform at their best!

Warning: this work of short erotic fiction in intended for adults only and features explicit descriptions of a hot first gay time, domination and authority themes, exploration of a gorgeous young swimmer's body under the sure hand of a skilled mentor, rough fingering and a gagging blow job, and may lead to one-handed reading. (5200 words.)

Excerpt:

“Oh... um. Well...”

Felix bit his lip, and a half-familiar tremor thrilled its way down Dixon's spine. The way Felix's soft little mouth dimpled under the pressure of teeth... it was a gesture that had always gotten a rise out of Dixon, an unconscious quirk that had always been his weak spot. The first girl he'd ever asked out had done that same thing, when he'd handed her the movie tickets. Years later, when he was a varsity college swimmer himself, he'd gone out into the stands during a meet to give his number to a girl just because she'd bit her lip in that exact, perfect way, and it had sent that same shiver down his back. The only two girls he'd ever loved.

And now here was Felix, flashing him that same tremulous little gesture, all doubt and hesitation.

“Take off your suit, Felix,” Coach Dixon directed.

“What?”

Dixon was already clearing the few things off his desk. “You heard me. I'm a bit concerned about you, and if you can't make it through a simple conversation without... sprouting wood, I think I should probably take a look and make sure there's not something seriously wrong.”

Felix shifted uncertainly, but years of conditioning told him to trust the coach. He stood reluctantly, his hands still covering the massive bulge in his suit.

“Put your hands behind your head,” Coach Dixon instructed, and although he hesitated for a long moment, when he finally lifted his hands Felix's body seemed to relax ever so slightly.

Dixon stepped around the desk and ran his hands down the familiar lines of Felix's torso, the subtle and powerful interplay of swimmer's muscles shivering and relaxing under touch. His hand crept down from the elbow, tracing bicep and shoulder, chest and stomach.

“I'm going to take off your swim suit now,” Dixon warned, slowly untying the knot that held the waistband cinched. Felix just stared at him, like a deer in the headlights, the pulse in the veins across his arms quickening perceptibly.