Another Mack Adventure
Seduced By A Coach
Situations like this tended to be the loneliest for Mack Carmichael. Even though the league made money hand over fist...more money than it really knew what to do with, gone were the days that officials could fly in the day before a game and then fly back home the day after...unless it was a Sunday Night or Monday Night game. Cost cutting measures, supposedly... Nowadays, they had to fly-in game day morning and leave right after they’d wrapped up their post-game duties. Anyway, most officials had other jobs to get back to...not to mention their families, so it wasn’t really a big deal.
The only reason Mack and his crew had been given this waiver to arrive a day early in the city of the game they were tasked with calling that week was because bad weather was in the forecast and there was a concern that flights would be canceled or delayed the morning of. Much to his surprise, although he’d been a single guy for most of his life until he married Teresa roughly ten years ago, he often found himself feeling lonely when he was away from she and the kids. Because of their open arrangement that any fun either of them had outside their marriage be kept secret from each other, Mack made a promise to himself to never line up any action when he was at home. That’s part of why game day was so special to him. It wasn’t just the thrill of being a part of the game that had been such a huge part of his life for so many years. It also meant getting to have the man-to-man connection that he craved so much.
Being in a hotel on a Saturday night in a sleepy Midwestern city - at least 12 hours away from any possible alone time with anyone from either of the two teams playing tomorrow - was pure torture for Mack. He’d caved in and gone on Grindr to see if he could find anything that floated his boat. No such luck. The only thing his phone gave him was a text from Gerry Phillips. The hookup he’d had with the hunky front office exec before the game a couple weeks ago had been super-hot...and spending the night with him to wake up to morning sex had been even hotter. Even though the man had echoed Mack’s insistence that the two of them getting into a regular involvement wasn’t on the table, he’d texted Mack a few times over the intervening couple weeks. It was obvious the exec was angling for another fuck. Mack wouldn’t ever turn down that down...not after feeling like the 50-ish stud’s ass was made perfectly for his cock, but he didn’t want to lead the guy on either. He wasn’t in the market for a regular side piece.
Mack read the text: “Still can’t get that dick of yours off my mind. I went three fingers deep last night while I beat off, remembering how good you felt in me.”
“Fuck!” he uttered underneath his breath, totally turned on by how hot Phillips seemed to be for him. He surreptitiously reached down and squeezed his cock in his jeans.
Even though he wanted to keep an emotional distance from Phillips, reading the text made his ego - and, honestly, his cock - swell. Briefly, it crossed Mack’s mind to see if he could arrange a video chat date with Phillips. Maybe they could get each other off. But then he thought better of it. “Gotta stay strong,” Mack thought to himself, turning the phone face down and trying to put the hunk out of his mind. Instead, he was now reduced to sitting at the bar in the practically empty hotel lounge, nursing a Tom Collins to pass the time. He was just about to give up, settle up with the bartender, and go back up to his room to inevitably fall asleep in bed watching reruns on TV when he saw someone in his peripheral vision walk up to him. He turned to face the person, preparing to hear some form of, “Hey, are you Mack Carmichael? That stupid penalty you called cost my favorite team a win, Asshole!”
Instead, he was greeted to the sight of a familiar face. It was the head coach of the home team. “Mack Carmichael,” the man about 15 years Mack’s junior - putting him probably in his early 40s - said with a big smile on his face, extending his hand to Mack, which Mack stood and shook.
“Good to see you, buddy!” Mack replied. “I’m surprised to see the home team coach walk into a hotel bar! I figured you’d be at the team facility, planning out your strategy for tomorrow.”
“Ah, I got a couple guys on the other team’s staff that are friends of mine. They wanted me to meet them here for a drink, so here I am!”
“You sure it’s here and not a bar at another hotel? The league is pretty big on avoiding the optics of impropriety. Me and the other guys on my crew are staying here. They don’t usually have anyone from either team staying at the same hotel as the officials calling the game.”
“Oh. You’re right, Doesn’t make sense, does it?” Coach said, looking perturbed. He pulled out his phone and looked like he was typing a text...probably checking to make sure where he needed to go to meet his buddies. After a few moments, he slipped his phone back into his pants pocket. “You mind if I hang out with you for a few minutes until either they show up or they send me a text telling me where I’m actually supposed to meet them?”
“Not at all, man,” Mack gestured to the seat next to him.
Coach caught the attention of the bartender. “Bring me whatever he’s having, please.”
“One Tom Collins, coming up!” he replied before hurrying off to prepare the drink.
“A Tom Collins? Really?” Coach turned to Mack, questioningly. “I’m more of a bourbon man, myself. But I like a little gin every now and then.”
Mack grinned and reached over to pat the younger man on the back, “I like things that go down real smooth. Give it a shot. You’ll like it!”
Coach grinned. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Although there hadn’t been a hint of anything sexual yet and this particular head coach - although pretty attractive in a boyishly handsome way - hadn’t really been on Mack’s radar, there was something about the look he’d just given Mack that made him wonder. The bartender brought Coach his drink and moved down to the other end of the bar to attend to another patron who had just walked up.
Coach took a sip of his drink, “Mmm! Now I see why you ordered this. This is some good shit!”
“Told ya, buddy!” For some reason, Mack felt compelled to pat the man on his back again. Something felt like it was happening without Mack putting much effort into it.
“You know,” Coach kept talking, “I’m really glad I ran into you, Carmichael.”
There it is, Mack thought to himself. Coach must’ve been backing into The Talk all along and he hadn’t recognized the signs. As furtively as possible, he gave the younger man a once over. Not necessarily his normal type, but he could definitely have a lot of fun with the younger man if that’s where this was going. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“We both played for the same alma mater. I was looking forward to tomorrow, hoping to snag a few minutes with you out on the field during warmups to swap war stories from college.”
Admittedly, Mack was a little bummed that this is where the conversation had gone instead of the coach asking for leniency during tomorrow’s game in exchange for sex. He had attributed feeling down in the dumps to being away from his family without the hustle and bustle of game day to distract him. But maybe he just needed a good lay and had gotten his hopes up that that’s the direction this was going in. Oh well. He DID love talking football and especially loved running into guys who’d played ball for the same college as him.
Half an hour had gone by and the two had gotten lost in talk of their time playing for the college team. Conversation had turned to how the younger man liked coaching and he’d even been curious about why Mack hadn’t pursued going pro all those years ago. He’d really drawn Mack in and the two men had made a connection. But it dawned on him that so much time had gone by and Coach’s friends from the other team still hadn’t shown up or responded to his text. “Hey, uh... You know we’ve been sitting here yakking away for a long while now and your buddies still haven’t shown up. Should you be getting worried?”
Coach blushed and looked uncomfortable. He downed the last of his drink and turned to face Mack. “I guess it’s time for me to make a confession.”
“What’s on your mind, Coach?”
“I’m not actually meeting anyone here. I came here hoping to run into you.”
This was a surprise to Mack, although it shouldn’t have been. “How’d you even know where I’d be staying?”
“I checked with a couple of people who’ve been with the team for several years. They both told me this is the hotel that they used to put officials up in when they allowed Saturday night arrivals.”
“I gotta tell you... I’m not sure I like you going to all that trouble to track me down so we could talk about playing for the same college team. That conversation took what...half an hour or so? We could’ve chatted tomorrow before the game,” Mack said, sternly, adding in his mind ‘if I wasn’t already busy getting naked and sweaty with some other guy.’
Coach grinned. “I like talking with you, man, but conversation isn’t really why I’m here.” Looking around to make sure no one was paying attention, Coach slid his hand across and placed it on Mack’s upper thigh, still not breaking eye contact. “You catch my drift?”
Mack looked down at the hand on his thigh and then back up at Coach. “I think I do. But I like it when guys are direct. Spell it out for me, Coach.”
Coach leaned in and spoke softly. “Ever since I watched you call the big game a few years back, you’ve been at the top of my wish list, Carmichael.”
“Yeah?” the chubby Mack had already started to get earlier when he read Gerry Phillips’ text was being put into overdrive at the prospect of him getting some action tonight after all. He’d been around the block enough to know why guys were hot for him, but he wanted to egg the young coach on...play this out a little while longer. Sex was always better when it was preceded by a little anticipation. “I think I’m pretty plain to look at. What’s so special about me to you?”
“Fuck,” Coach practically growled lowly. “What isn’t special about you?! Those muscular arms of yours and the way your chest fills out your uni. Gets me rock hard just thinking about it. Not to mention that cute little ass of yours.”
This was a new one to Mack. He wasn’t strictly a top and he’d been fucked on more than a few game days, but no one had ever specifically complimented his butt before. “You like my ass, huh, Coach?!”
“Oh yeah. Like is a gross understatement.”
“I don’t know. No one would mistake me for a tight end out there.” It seemed to Mack that - per capita - most of the best asses on the field at any given time during a game belonged to a tight end.
“It’s true I like a nice shapely, muscular bubble ass,” Coach admitted. “But you’ve got a cute ass and it’s always gotten my attention.”
Mack took a sip of his drink, looked at the boyishly handsome 40-something head coach, and gestured toward his left hand. “I see you’ve got a wedding band on your finger. I’m kinda surprised you’re after me.”
Coach grinned and his eyes sparkled. “I could say the same thing about you, buddy. You’ve got your own shiny band on your ring finger.”
“Yeah,” Mack retorted. “But I was sitting here minding my own business, not out looking for dick.”
“Shit! A man like you shouldn’t have to look. It should always come to you.”
It was like deja vu from a couple weeks ago. Coach was putting on a full court press to hook Mack just like Phillips had. And just like Phillips, Coach’s efforts were working like a charm. He had to admit he loved it when guys appealed to his ego like that. The two were as good as naked on the bed in Mack’s hotel room, but he decided he’d make the kid work for it a little bit more. “You think your wife would mind if she knew you were here right now, offering to...bring me dick?”
Coach took a sip of his own drink and looked Mack in the eye, not shy at all about what he wanted. “Christine and I have an arrangement. Probably like you and your wife. She knows I love her. But she knows I also love being with a hot man whenever I get a chance. We’ve spent a lot of time working through it and we’re both at a place in our marriage where we each get what we want.”
Mack downed the last of his Collins. “And what is it you want tonight?”
Not flinching or breaking eye contact, Coach responded matter of factly. “I’m looking at him. Like I said before. You’ve been at the top of my wish list for a while.”
Fuck! The time for making the young coach wait had just ended. He definitely knew how to sweet talk. Mack turned and signaled to the bartender. As the man approached, Coach got up from the stool, put his hand on Mack’s shoulder, and pulled his wallet from his pocket. “I got this, buddy.”
“You sure?” Mack questioned.
“Yeah. I got it.”
As the bartender took the credit card to process the payment, Mack leaned in and spoke softly. “Just so you know, I’m not going to let you have your way with me just because you paid for my drink.”
“Oh no?” Coach looked surprised.
“Absolutely not." The bartender returned with Coach’s credit card and the receipt, interrupting the conversation what Mack was about to say.
After Coach signed the receipt and both men traded pleasantries with the bartender, he looked at Mack, expectantly. “Now, where were we?”
Mack grinned. “I was about to tell you that I’m going to let you have your way with me because I’m horny as fuck, you’re just the kind of guy I like spending time with, and you’re a fuckin’ grade-A sweet talker.”
Coach grimaced a little. “Unnnhhh!”
“You okay?”
Coach leaned in to whisper in the ref’s ear. “Fuck no. You got me so hard right now. And I can’t reach down and readjust because we’re standing in the middle of a hotel bar with people around us.”
“Maybe we should go somewhere more private so we both can get comfortable. That sound okay to you?”
Coach bit his lip and stood aside. “Lead the way...”
***
Mack was surprised when, once they stepped on the elevator to go up to his room, the Coach pulled him into a kiss, kneading his ass as he took the lead in their surprise make out session. Mack was as versatile as they came, but being treated in such a possessive way was a new experience for him. He could get used to this sort of behavior from a man.
It was even more of a surprise when, as they walked down the hallway to Mack’s hotel room, Coach kept his left hand on the older ref’s ass. Kind of a brazen way to act. Luckily enough, they didn’t pass anyone on their way.
After another extended make out session and extended foreplay, the two men were completely naked on the bed, the studly coach on top of Mack, pounding him for all he was worth. Mack was used to being on top of things more times than he got to the bottom of issues, but he had to admit, if more guys were as adept as fucking as Coach was, he’d definitely be open for more times as a catcher.
Although toned in his own way, Coach was more beefy and meaty than muscular, which isn’t the type of guy that usually rang Mack’s bell. But - again - what he lacked in being Mack’s usual type, he’d more than made up for in sweet talk, persistence, and sheer skill.
It had been a true full service affair. After shooting his load deep into Mack’s ass, Coach crawled down to the foot of the bed and began felching his own cum out, which had turned into a full-fledged rim job. When Coach saw how much Mack’s completely engorged cock quivered from the expert rim job, he shifted his attention and egged the ref on to giving up his copious load down the forty-something’s throat.
An hour later, the two men were still in bed together, kissing and touching each other. Mack leaned in for another kiss and - after pulling back - he ran his hand over Coach’s meaty pec. “You’re probably gonna catch hell from your wife when you get home. It’s late.”
“I know,” Coach said with that damn desirable boyishly cute smile of his. “But I didn’t want to cum and go. Whenever anyone does that with me, I always end up feeling like a whore. I’ve wanted you for too long to make you feel like that. Truth be told, I don't want to go now. If I could get away with staying here all night, I would in a heartbeat. "
Mack felt himself blush. “Damn you and your sweet talk. You know all the right things to say, don’t you?“
Instead of responding verbally, Coach reached up and put his hand on the back of Mack’s neck and the two men met in another slow-burning, passionate kiss. After a couple minutes, they parted and Coach gave Mack a long, smoldering look...the kind of pained expression a man gives when he doesn’t want to leave, but he knows he has to. “I really hate to go, but you’re right. Christine won’t be happy that I’ve been out so late. You mind if I shower before I go?”
“Not at all. Go right ahead.”
Coach stood up and Mack got another look at the not overly long but just thick enough tool swinging between his legs. He couldn’t believe he’d taken that thing when it had been fully hard. He was pretty sure his ass would be sore in the morning. Coach leaned down for another quick kiss and then headed for the bathroom. Mack couldn’t help but admire the younger man as he walked away. He had a pretty nice ass on him. If they ever got together again, Mack wondered just how versatile Coach was.
Awkwardly enough, Coach hadn’t disappeared into the bathroom 10 seconds earlier when Teresa called to chat. It got even worse when she put their kids of the phone to “say goodnight to dad.” They were still on the phone a few minutes later when Coach emerged following his shower and the younger man had just finished re-dressing when the phone call ended.
Mack sighed.
“You okay,” Coach asked.
“Yeah,” Mack responded in a tone that led the coach to believe he wasn’t - in fact - fine. “Even though Teresa knows the score with me and she says she’s okay with it, it doesn’t make it any easier.”
“I know what you mean, buddy. Believe me.”
“I know you do,” Mack agreed as he climbed out of bed and slipped on his boxer-briefs. He strode across to the hotel room door where Coach was standing, ready to make his leave. “But regardless of how that phone call made me feel, it doesn’t change the fact that I had an amazing time tonight. Sneaky pretext or not, I’m glad you tracked me down tonight, Coach.”
“I am too, Carmichael. See you around the stadium tomorrow.”
“Sure will, bud,” the ref said, regret that this was ending so soon heavy in his voice.
Coach opened the door part of the way, then turned back around. “Hey, uh, Carmichael?”
“Yeah?“
For a moment, silence hung in the air. The younger man stood there as if he wanted to say something. Finally, after several seconds, he said something, fumbling over his words. “J-just... I just wanted to say.....thanks for this.”
“You bet, hot stuff,” Mack responded, pretty sure that whatever the coach wanted to say isn’t what he’d actually said just now. “Thank YOU!”
Coach gave the older man one last smile and then he was out the door. After he left, Mack walked up to the door and leaned against it, feeling more than satisfied, once again completely alone, and also - strangely enough - feeling empty with the forty-something coach gone.
This was a totally familiar yet completely different feeling. That’s when it dawned on Mack. “Holy fuck!” he exclaimed out loud to an empty room. “I’m Phillips and Coach is me!”
He was standing there, his back leaning against the hotel room door, wishing he and Coach were still in bed kissing. He now knew exactly how Gerry Phillips had felt two weeks ago and probably in the days since they’d fucked.
Coach had gotten through his walls and burrowed his way into Mack’s heart and mind. Mack Carmichael couldn’t let this feeling stand. Tomorrow, he’d find someone - maybe more than ONE someone - to get Coach out of his head. Either that or he’d have his fun trying!
