"What the fuck, Troy? You missed the block again!" Ryan barked, his blue eyes flashing with frustration.
"Chill out, man. I'm trying," Troy panted, wiping the his freshly showered hair with a towel. "It's just practice."
Ryan's jaw clenched, his muscles rippling with irritation. "It's not just practice. It's our senior year. We're supposed to be unstoppable."
"Look, I know. I'm sorry," Troy said, his voice tight. He knew the pressure was on, but Coach Waters' little... arrangement was wearing on him. The thought of what awaited them after practice didn't help his focus.
Ryan took a deep breath, trying to rein in his temper. They had to stick together. "It's fine," he said finally. "Let's just... let's get through this."
The two boys trudged from their shower stalls, towel aroumd their hips to Coach Waters' office, their nerves a taut web of dread. The locker room door swung open, the cacophony of laughter and splashing water fading into the hallway. Coach Waters' silhouette filled the doorway, a sinister smile playing on his lips as he beckoned them in.
"You're late," the coach rumbled, his deep voice a warning.
Ryan and Troy exchanged a quick glance, the tension in the air thickening. They both knew the drill by now. They had to keep their head in the game, but the looming promise of what was to come was a constant distraction. They stepped into the office, the door closing heavily behind them, cutting them off from the world of football pads and jockstraps. The coach's eyes glinted with a predatory gleam as he took in their naked forms, his gaze lingering on their firm abs and muscular thighs.
"Get on your knees," he ordered, his voice like gravel.
Ryan felt a shiver of revulsion run down his spine, but he complied, his eyes locked on the floor tiles. Troy followed suit, his breathing shallow. The coach's shadow fell over them, his bulk looming like a dark cloud.
"Good boys," Coach Waters said, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Now, let's see who's ready to make their old coach happy."
Ryan's stomach turned as he felt the coach's hand on the back of his head, guiding him towards the massive erection that jerked with anticipation. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the scent of the man's sweat and the feel of his hairy thighs against his cheek. The head of the coach's cock was slick with pre-cum, and Ryan couldn't help but gag as he took it into his mouth. The taste was bitter and foreign, but he had learned to suppress his instincts over the weeks of forced servitude.
Troy mirrored Ryan's actions, his eyes squeezed shut as he focused on the task at hand. The coach's grunts grew louder, his fingers tightening in their hair as he thrust deeper into their mouths. The room was silent except for the wet sounds of suction and the occasional gag. The boys had become all too familiar with the rhythm of the coach's breathing, the way his cock pulsed with each stroke.
"Take it all," Coach Waters groaned, pushing them closer together so their faces were mere inches apart, their cheeks flushed and eyes watering. The tip of his cock nudged against the back of Ryan's throat, making him choke slightly.
Troy took this opportunity to swipe his tongue along the underside of the coach's shaft, teasing the sensitive skin. He felt the man's grip on his hair loosen just a fraction, and he took a moment to breathe before plunging back down to suck on the heavy balls that hung low and full.
Ryan, meanwhile, had become adept at deep-throating the monstrous length, his jaw muscles bulging as he took the coach's cock to the base. His eyes watered from the effort, but he knew better than to pull away. He could feel the coach's hand moving in time with his bobbing head, setting a punishing pace that made his neck ache.
As the minutes dragged on, the coach's moans grew more insistent, his hips bucking upwards to meet their eager mouths. The smell of sex and sweat filled the air, a heady mix that only served to make Ryan's stomach churn. He knew what was coming next, the part he dreaded most.
"Switch," the coach grunted, his hand releasing its grip on Ryan's hair. With a sense of relief, Ryan pulled back, gasping for air, allowing Troy to take over the deep-throating. Troy's eyes widened slightly as the full length of the coach's cock filled his mouth, but he took it like a champ, his eyes never leaving the coach's as he swallowed around the thick head.
Ryan, now freed from the task of deep-throating, eagerly turned to the coach's balls, licking and sucking them with a practiced finesse. The taste was salty and faintly musky, a flavor that had become all too familiar to both boys. He rolled them gently in his mouth, feeling them tighten and release with the rhythm of his suckling. His own cock had gone limp with fear and disgust, a stark contrast to the rock-hard erection in front of him.
Coach Waters leaned back into the couch, his eyes half-closed in pleasure. "That's it, Ryan," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "So good, just like that."
Ryan felt a flicker of pride mingled with his disgust. He had become quite skilled at this over the past few weeks, knowing exactly how to handle the coach's sack to bring him closer to climax without triggering the usual pain. He worked tirelessly, his tongue flicking and swirling as he listened to the increasingly ragged breaths above him.
Troy, meanwhile, had found his own way to cope. He focused on the mechanics of it, the way his mouth had to open just so, the angle of his head, the pressure of his tongue against the shaft. It was almost like a sport, he told himself, just another challenge to overcome. He could feel the coach's cock swelling even further in his mouth, the pulse of blood growing stronger.
Ryan's hands roamed over the coach's hairy thighs, feeling the thick veins that ran along them, the tension in the muscles as the man approached his peak. He knew the signs well by now. The coach's breath grew ragged, his hips began to buck wildly, and his cock grew even harder.
"I'm... I'm gonna cum," Coach Waters warned, his voice strained.
In unison, the boys pulled back, their tongues at the ready. Troy's hand flew to the base of the coach's cock, pumping it furiously. With a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room, the coach erupted, spurts of hot cum racing through the air to land on their eager faces. They had been trained well, and their instincts took over as they leaned in, tongues outstretched to catch every drop. The taste was bitter and salty, a reminder of their enslavement, but they lapped it up greedily, not wanting to miss a single bit.
As the coach's orgasm subsided, his breath coming in great heaving gasps, Ryan took the opportunity to swipe the cum from his cheek and swallow it, the muscles in his throat working to force it down. Troy followed suit, his eyes never leaving the coach's face, as if searching for any sign of approval or mercy.
Coach Waters leaned back against the sofa, a look of pure contentment spreading across his face. He panted heavily, his chest heaving with the exertion. The boys remained on their knees, awaiting their next instruction, their eyes locked onto coachs face in submission.
"You two are really getting good at this," the coach praised, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Now clean me up, and make sure not to miss a spot."
Ryan and Troy's eyes met briefly, a silent exchange of resentment and resignation. They set to work, licking and sucking the last traces of cum from the coach's cock, which was already beginning to soften. The taste was a familiar one now, a part of their daily routine that they had learned to tolerate.
"Good job, boys," the coach said, his breathing returning to normal. "Now, let's not forget to clean up the mess YOU'VE made."
They both looked up at him, their eyes filled with a mix of relief and dread. The aftermath was always the same – a ritual they had to perform before they could leave. Troy reached for a towel, carefully wiping away their slobber and spit from the coach's cock and balls, while Ryan took care of the sticky trails on the coach's thighs and abdomen. Their movements were efficient, almost mechanical, a testament to how often they had performed this degrading task.
"Alright, Ryan," Coach Waters said, his voice a bit softer now, "I want you to go to Troys house and wait for me. Make sure you're all ready for me." He leaned down and grabbed Ryan's chin, forcing him to meet his gaze.
Ryan's heart skipped a beat, but he nodded, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and resentment. "Yes, sir," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
Coach Waters leaned down, his hand still cupping Ryan's face, and pressed his thick, wet lips to the boy's. Ryan's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't pull away. He knew better than to resist. The kiss was a strange mix of power and tenderness, the coach's tongue probing deep into his mouth, tasting of their combined saliva and the bitter remnants of his own cum. The coach's hand slid down to Ryan's neck, his thumb caressing the sensitive skin in a way that sent a shiver down his spine.
As the kiss ended, Coach Waters released Ryan with a light smack to the side of his head, his hand coming away with a wet pop. "Good boy," he murmured, stroking Ryan's cheek with his thumb. "Now, go get dressed. I'll be waiting."
Ryan's legs felt like jelly as he stood up and walked to the locker room, his mind racing. Why had Troy not been told to leave? What did the coach have in store for him? He couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had settled in the pit of his stomach. The locker room was empty now, the rest of the team having finished their showers and left. The silence was deafening as he pulled on his clothes, the fabric sticking slightly to his still-damp skin.
Troy remained kneeling before the coach, his eyes flickering with a mix of fear and confusion. Coach Waters had been increasingly harsh with him, pushing his boundaries further and further with each passing day. Since Ryan's dad had returned from his trip, the coach had focused most of his attention on him, leaving Troy to endure the brunt of the abuse. But now that Ryans dad was gone again, Troy thought coach would be using both of them like usually likes to do. So why was Ryan gojng back alone and he made to stay? Something wasnt right.
"Tell me, Troy," the coach purred, stroking his chin thoughtfully, "Is your pussy cleaned out?"
Troy's heart raced as he nodded, his voice barely audible. "Yes, sir."
He felt the coach's hand on his shoulder, guiding him to turn around. The room spun briefly, and he closed his eyes. With trembling hands, Troy reached back to part his cheeks, exposing his tight, pink entrance to the coach's gaze. He could feel the heat of the man's stare on his skin, making him more self-conscious than he ever had been on the football field.
Coach Waters's thumb traced a path down Troy's spine, sending goosebumps across his skin. His other hand cupped Troy's cheek, turning his face to the side. "Good boy," he murmured, his breath hot against Troy's ear. Then, without warning, his lips were there, pressing against the sensitive skin of his hole. Troy's body stiffened, but the coach's grip was firm, keeping him in place.
The kiss was gentle at first, almost tender. Coach Waters's thick lips parted, and his tongue darted out to probe the tight ring of muscle. Troy gritted his teeth, trying to hold back a whimper. It was a twisted part of their daily routine. The coach's beard scratched against his skin, a harsh reminder of the man's dominance.
But as the seconds ticked by, the kiss grew more aggressive, the coach's teeth grazing the tender flesh of his hole. Troy could feel the man's excitement, his hot breaths against his skin, and the insistent pressure of his tongue pushing against the barrier of his body. His own body betrayed him, his cock slowly hardening despite the fear that coiled in his stomach.
With a sudden, brutal movement, Coach Waters pulled away and slapped Troy's ass with a resounding smack. The sound echoed in the empty room, and Troy yelped in surprise, the sting of pain mingling with the warmth that spread through his cheeks. He looked over his shoulder, his chocolate eyes meeting the coach's, and saw the dark hunger in them.
The coach rumbled, his voice low and predatory. "Your parents are away again?"
Troy nodded, his throat dry. "Yes, sir."
The coach's smile grew wider, his teeth flashing white against his dark skin. "Perfect," he murmured, his hand giving Troy's ass another firm squeeze.
Troy parents were very wealthy and like Ryans were constantly away on business, much more then Ryans, leaving them often forgetting they have a son. Usually this meant that Troy could do whatever he wanted, like throwing parties and bringing girls home. But now it simply meant that he was at the complete mercy of coachs perversions. And since they were rich and lived in a mansion with no one home but Troy, Coach made himself at home, and made it into his boy abusing HQ.
The coach's voice was firm and commanding as he instructed Troy to dress in a fresh football uniform and wait for him in the parking lot by his car. Troy couldn't help but feel a shiver of fear run down his spine. What was the coach planning now? He had become accustomed to the routine of their after-practice sessions, but this was something new, something that hinted at a twisted game of power and control.
Obediently, Troy put on his full gear, his white socks pulled up to mid-calf, his muscular legs flexing as he stepped into the tight leggings. His pads and jersey were next, the fabric clinging to his toned body like a second skin. Each layer felt like a barrier between him and the outside world, a reminder of the facade he had to maintain. His cleats clicked against the locker room floor as he stood, his helmet in hand next to coachs car.
In the coach's office, Coach Waters was deep in conversation on his phone. "Were just about to head off. The boy is clean and ready for you Mayor." Coach informs his long time friend Tim, the current billionaire mayor od Dallas.
The Mayor hung up his phone with a satisfied grin. He had known Waters since college, and their shared predilection for jock boys had forged an unspoken bond between them. They often exchanged boys, swapping stories and tips like golf scores. The Mayor had his eye on Troy for a while, having seen Coach Waters videos of both Troy and Ryan but Troy looked more like his type, so he choose him for tonights escapades.
The coach's brand new black Mustang roared to life as Troy climbed into the passenger seat, his heart hammering in his chest. He glanced over at Coach Waters, who was watching him with a predatory smile. The Mustang was actually Troys, bought for his 18th birthday by his rich parents but Coach helped himself to it since he had to power to take Troys whole future away, a car was a small price for Troy to pay. His parents are too absent and rich to notice anyway. The coach revved the engine, and the car shot forward, the tires squealing as they peeled out of the parking lot. The drive to the Mayor's mansion was a blur, the city lights passing by in a haze of fear and anticipation. Troy's mind raced with thoughts of what was to come, his stomach a knot of anxiety.
As they approached the gate of the Mayor's estate, Troy couldn't help but stare in awe. The wrought-iron gates stood tall and imposing, the surrounding walls covered in ivy. The house beyond was a monolith of opulence, lights gleaming from every window like the eyes of a greedy dragon hoarding its treasure. The gate swung open with a ponderous groan, and the coach's car glided through, the gravel driveway crunching beneath the tires.
Troy's palms were sweaty as he gripped the car door, his heart racing like he was about to face a stadium full of screaming fans. But this was no game, no victory to be had. This was his fate, and he knew it. Coach Waters reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a small plastic bag, his eyes meeting Troy's.
"Here," he said, his voice gruff. "Take these."
Troy looked down at the coach's hand, where two small pills lay nestled in his palm. Recognizing them immediately, his stomach lurched. GHB and ecstasy – the coach's preferred cocktail for keeping them compliant and eager. It had become a nightly ritual, a means to numb the pain and fear, to turn them into willing participants in their own degradation.
With trembling hands, Troy took the pills and tossed them back, the bitter taste coating his tongue as he swallowed them with saliva. He knew better than to refuse. The coach's grip on their futures was absolute, and the thought of what might happen if they didn't comply was too much to bear. The pills went down with a sickening ease, and Troy felt a sense of resignation wash over him as the coach started the car again, the engine purring like a contented cat.
When the car finally came to a stop in front of the mansion, the coach turned to him, his eyes gleaming with something that might have been excitement.
"Troy, you're going to be spending the weekend with the Mayor," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Be a good boy, and do everything he asks. Understood?"
"Yes, sir." Troy responded, his voice shaky and his eyes wide with fear. So far coach has been the only one abusing them, the thought of him being shared with even more men made him nearly vomit from anxiety. He knew better than to argue or resist. The coach had made it clear that any disobedience would lead to dire consequences, not just for him, but for Ryan as well. The thought of his friend suffering because of his actions was more than he could bear.
They exited the car, and the cool evening air did nothing to alleviate the heat of the coach's hand as it slipped into Troy's leggings, fingering his pussy with a possessive hunger. Troy tried to keep his expression neutral, his body betraying him as he gasped, his cock twitching despite his best efforts.
The mansion's grand entrance loomed before them, the heavy oak door swinging open to reveal the Mayor. He was a stark contrast to the coach's towering frame, he was about 6'1", his hair a thick silver mane, his body a landscape of bulging flesh. His suit was tailored to perfection, the fabric stretching over his vast belly, and his teeth were stained from a lifetime of indulging in expensive cigars. His eyes, however, were sharp and predatory as they swept over Troy's body, his gaze lingering on the bulge in his leggings.
"Coach," the Mayor drawled, a smile playing on his lips. "You've outdone yourself this time."
The mansion was like something out of a nightmare, opulent and overbearing, every corner a testament to the Mayor's wealth and depravity. The scent of expensive cigars lingered in the air, mixing with the faint hint of musk. Troy felt his heart racing as they approached the Mayor, coachs hand still buried in Troy's leggings, his middle finger circling his clenched hole.
"Good evening, Mayor," Coach Waters said, his voice deferential but still holding the hint of a challenge. "This is the boy you've been waiting for."
The Mayor's eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store as he stepped closer to Troy, his own excitement palpable. He reached out and cupped Troy's chin, forcing the young man to look into his eyes. "You're a beauty," he said, his voice thick with lust. "I've heard so much about you."
Coach Waters stepped aside, allowing the Mayor full access to his prize. The Mayor's gaze roved over Troy's body, lingering on the bulge in his football pants. His hand followed the path of his eyes, and with a swift movement, he grabbed the bulge, giving it a firm squeeze. Troy's eyes went wide, and he bit back a whine.
The Mayor leaned in, his breath hot and smelling faintly of whiskey. "Open up, boy," he ordered, and Troy had no choice but to obey. A fat, sausage-like finger was shoved into his mouth, pushing against his teeth. He began to suck, his eyes watering as he licked around the digit.
"Good boy," the Mayor said, his voice thick with satisfaction. He turned to Coach Waters. "Thank you, Waters. He's even better than you promised."
The coach stepped back, his eyes gleaming with malicious pleasure. "My pleasure, Tim. I knew you'd enjoy him." He clapped Troy's shoulder, his grip almost painful. "You be good for Mayor Tim now, you hear?"
The Mayor's finger withdrew from Troy's mouth with a wet pop, and he gave the coach a nod of approval. "He will, Waters. Don't worry, I'll take good care of him."
Coach Waters chuckled, the sound sending shivers down Troy's spine. He stepped back, his hand lingering on Troy's shoulder for a moment before giving it a final squeeze. "Have fun" he said, turning to leave, going back to collect his own prize waiting for him.
Troy watched the coach walk away, his heart racing as the reality of his situation set in. He was now completely at the mercy of Mayor Tim, a man who had the power to destroy not just his football career but his entire life if he didn't please him. The coach had taught him well, though, and he knew that submission was the only path to survival.
The Mayor's eyes never left Troy's body as he stepped closer, his hand sliding down from his chin to caress the bulge in Troy's football pants. "Let's go, boy," he said, his voice gruff with desire. "I've got a whole weekend of fun planned for us."
