Coach Cumdump

Character Descriptions:

Brett Burman, 46, 5'11" - Race: Caucasian (American) - Hair: Salt and pepper; thick with a slight wave; lampshade moustache; dark body hair all over - Eyes: Blue-gray - Build: Stocky and muscly; barrel-chested - Penis: 5 inches, cut, average thickness.

Ronnie Richmond, 22, 6'3" - Race: Caucasian (Irish-American) - Hair: Ginger; buzzcut; clean shaven; moderate body hair on chest and thighs, full bush - Eyes: Blue - Build: Muscly and toned - Penis: 8 inches, uncut, above average thickness, huge balls.

Andreas de Silva, 21, 6'0" - Race: Latino (Brazilian, medium brown skin tone) - Hair: Black; thick and wavy; shoulder length; clean shaven; mostly smooth chest and dark hair on arms, legs and pelvis - Eyes: Brown - Build: Lightly toned - Penis: 7 inches, uncut, average thickness.

Carter Hawthorne, 22, 5'11" - Race: Caucasian (Germanic-American) - Hair: Blonde; short back and sides; stubble; light, fair body hair but smooth chest - Eyes: Light blue - Build: Trim, swimmer's build - Penis: 7 inches, cut, fuzzy ballsack

Jake Allen, 21, 5'7" - Race: Caucasian (American) - Hair: Light brown, medium length; clean shaven; no body hair aside from trimmed pubes - Eyes: Green - Build: Wiry and slender - Penis - 8 inches, cut, thinner than average and slightly curved; shaved balls.

Giovanni Conti, 21, 5'9" - Race: Caucasian (Italian-American) - Hair: Very dark brown: curly and short-medium length; stubble; thick, dark and curly body hair all over - Eyes: Light brown - Build: Beefy and bulky - Penis: 6 inches, uncut, very girthy.

Asad Fariq, 22, 6'2" - Race: Arabic (Turkish, mid-dark brown skin tone) - Hair: Black; straight and short, connecting to a short but full beard; dark body hair sparse on the chest but thicker on the arms and lower body - Eyes: Very dark brown - Build: Lanky; Slim but lean - Penis - 9 inches, cut with a pronounced upward curve.

Coach Brett Burman stood in the Lacrosse Seniors' locker room with his arms firmly crossed over his muscular chest, scowling at the players sitting before him.

The six young men sat on the benches in various states of undress, still wet with sweat from the first game of the season. Most had their eyes glued to the floor, anticipating Coach Burman's lecture following their devastating loss.

"So," Brett started, "did we all just forget how to play lacrosse today, or were you all justtryingto piss me off?"

Five pairs of eyes raised to Brett's, a mixture of despondency and exhaustion in their gaze. Only their Captain, Ronnie Richmond, refused to look up.

"Any thoughts,Captain?" Ronnie's head snapped in his direction and Brett knew he was already pushing his buttons.

Ronnie was a known hothead and this wasn't a joke about his bright ginger hair, shorn down to a buzzcut. He was prone to outbursts on and off the field, accruing several fouls each season he'd played.

Rumour had it that his ire towards the previous Coach had driven the man into an early retirement and Brett had been warned about him when he took up the position at the start of the last training period.

He wanted nothing more than to strip Ronnie of his title of Captain, of his place on the team even, and teach the kid a lesson but that would mean admitting he couldn't handle him and he would never do that.

Besides, the guy was a damn good Defender and the other players listened to him. Perhaps out of fear of his anger, or his hulking frame, standing 6'2" and jacked.

"No." Ronnie replied, deadpan. There was a hint of something in his blue eyes, as if daring Brett to push him.

"No,sir." Brett corrected. If he wanted to be pushed then so be it.

A noticeable hush fell as the other players waited to see if Ronnie would fall in line.

"No,sir," Ronnie mumbled. A smug smirk twitched across Brett's lips.

"Although," the smirk died as Ronnie continued, standing and taking a single step towards the older man, "I would say our loss today is at least partially down to you,sir."

"And how the fuck did you come to that conclusion?" Brett took a step towards Ronnie, not one to be intimidated, even if he was a few inches shorter. "I hope you didn't hurt yourself too much thinking so hard, bud."

Ronnie chuckled. "Well, you're the reason we're so distracted, Coach. Ever since you implemented your strict semen retention policy, none of us can focus. Right, boys?" He looked around at his teammates, who mumbled their agreement.

Brett sighed and put his hands on his hips, now addressing the room. "How many times do I have to tell you all? There's countless studies supporting semen retention as a natural method of athletic performance enhancement. I'veshownyou them, guys."

"Um, actually, sir, those studies are all from, like, the seventies." Brett turned to the boy who had spoken, Jake Allen, the team's Goalie. Jake didn't meet Brett's gaze as he continued. "More recent literature shows little to no significant correlation. I-I can send them to you if you like."

Brett couldn't help but feel a little betrayed. Jake was one of the only players he felt he had connected with as an actual mentor. He was a shy kid, at the college on academic scholarship and had been the team's second reserve midfielder, until Brett had seen potential as a goalie in him.

The other players made fun of him sometimes for being one of the shortest and by far the skinniest and Brett admittedly felt sorry for him.

"No, thank you, Jake. I'm all good. I'm not interested in what the new literature says." Brett turned back to Ronnie. "I've been playing or coaching lacrosse longer than any of you have been alive. It's tried and true and it's not changing until the end of the season."

Andreas de Silva, the team's Assistant Captain and one of their Attackers, let out an exasperated groan to Brett's left.

"Please, Coach," he pleaded, "if I don't bust a nut soon I can't wait til the end of the fucking season!"

Brett shook his head at the young man. "Get a fucking grip de Silva. You don'tneedto cum."

"Yes, we do!" Brett startled slightly at the outburst from Carter Hawthorn, a Midfielder, to his left. "You were our age once. You know how horny we are."

"Sure," Brett replied, "but I had something called self control. Something you all desperately need to work on."

"You want to know what I think?" Ronnie asked.

"No, not really. I've heard enough. Hit the showers."

"I think you're a dirty fucking perv, Coach." Brett felt anger creep up his neck.

"What the fuck do you mean, Richmond?"

Ronnie shrugged, a darkly playful look on his face. "Well, for a supposedly heterosexual family man, you sure do spend a lot of time thinking about the sperm of young men."

"Ronnie, I seriously suggest you shut the fuck up before you say something you regret."

"I think you get off on the control. I think you go home after training and whack off to the thought of us all hot and bothered and not allowed to do anything about it." Ronnie had leaned in and Brett could feel the heat of his breath as he spoke.

"You're twisted, Ronnie. Seriously, you've got a screw loose. I'm recommending you for a 'psych eval' and Andreas is Captain until then." Brett watched with satisfaction as Ronnie's face dropped for a second.

"Get on your knees." It took Brett a few seconds to process what Ronnie had just said.

"Excuse me?" Brett guffawed. "That's it, you're benched, indefinitely, you fucking freak."

Ronnie nodded at Andreas and Carter, who got to their feet and flanked Brett before he could react.

"Get on your knees," Ronnie repeated, "or we'll tell everyone you've been raping us."

"What the fuck, what is this?" Brett's blood had gone cold now, a panic rising in his chest. As much as he couldn't believe what was happening, he had no doubt Ronnie was serious.

"Yeah, I caught you sniffing my dirty cup, so you forced to cut me from the team if I didn't blow you." Andreas had a sick grin as he spoke the lie.

"And you gave me a ride home from practice one night, convinced me to let you into my dorm for a beer. I woke up with you cumming inside me." Carter poured exaggeratedly.

"Believable, right?" Ronnie said, clearly impressed with their fabrications, "came up with the scenarios myself. We've all got one. You laced my water bottle and then cornered and facefucked me in the shower."

Ronnie gestured to the other two midfielders who had stayed silent, Giovanni Conti and Asad Rafiq. Brett noticed in horror that they were both palming their crotches through their shorts.

"You forced Gio to fuck Asad while you watched and then came on their faces as they cried," Ronnie continued, "and poor Jake had it the worst of all."

Jake looked even more pale than usual and was refusing to look up from the floor.

"You've spent weeks grooming him, making him think you cared about him, even promoting him to Goalie, just so you could use him as a glorified fleshlight."

Brett was shaking with a mixture of fear and rage, voice low and quivering. "You're not gonna get away with this."

"Why not? It's the word of the new coach against six Senior, All-Star athletes. Plus, Carter's dad is the college's largest benefactor." Ronnie closed the space between them as he spoke, so Brett was forced to look up at him.

"What are you going to do to me?" Brett cringed at how pathetic his own words sounded.

Ronnie licked his lips. "We're going to rape your holes and fill them with the loads you forced us to store up. If you obey like a good fucktoy should, maybe it won't hurt too much. Now, I'll ask one more time, get on your fucking knees."

Andreas and Carter each gripped one of Brett's shoulders and shoved him down. It didn't take much, as his legs practically gave out. He heard some of the players laughing, but it sounded weirdly distant to him.

He thought about how ridiculous he must look. A burly, powerhouse of a man in his forties, kneeling in complete subjugation to a group of younger men. The players he was supposed to lead and mentor that were now about to use him for their sick pleasure.

"Look at me." Ronnie looked down at him with a shit-eating grin. Brett forced himself to meet his gaze. "Good boy."

Brett's stomach churned at the words as he watched Ronnie reach inside his shorts. His hand reemerged, holding his protective cup. He held it in front of Brett, the inside inches from his face.

"Give it a sniff." Brett considered objecting but looked up at the three men standing over him with hungry anticipation.

He leaned forward, pressed his face into the cup and breathed in. His nose was filled with the acrid smell of ball sweat, musk and piss. He tried not to wretch as he sat back.

"Now lick it clean," Ronnie commanded.

"You can't be seri-" Brett's head snapped sideways, a stinging warmth spreading across his left cheek. Ronnie had backhanded him with his free hand. Tears welled up in his eyes.

Ronnie grabbed him by the chin and bent down so they were face to face. "Consider the fact that that was me being gentle before you disobey again. Now lick... the fucking... cup."

The cup was unceremoniously forced back over his mouth and nose and he began tentatively licking Ronnie's sweat from the plastic. The taste was salty and tangy in the worst way.

"There we go," cooed Ronnie, "I think he likes how I taste boys. Should we let him try it from the source?"

"Fuck yeah..." replied Andreas, lustfully. A thick erection was now obvious under his shorts, a wet spot forming on the fabric where the tip rested.

Ronnie removed the cup from Brett's face and the older man breathed in the clean air. The Captain then pushed down the waistband of his undershorts, almost teasingly, first revealing a trimmed bush of fiery red hair and then his semi-hard, uncut cock.

Brett gulped audibly. Half hard, Ronnie's dick was over six inches and relatively thick, but balls were the most impressive. They were huge and covered in orange fuzz and visibly slick with sweat.

That thing is going inside me,Brett thought, his dread intensifying. This was real now. Ronnie had his cock in his face and he was going to use it to rape him. They all were.

Ronnie cupped his balls and jiggled making his cock bounce in Brett's face. "Touch it."

Brett hesitated and his eyes dropped to the ground for a moment. That was a mistake.

Ronnie's hand whipped out and Brett braced for another slap that didn't come. Instead, fingers gripped his hair roughly and his head was yanked forward roughly.

His yelp of pain was muffled as his nose and mouth was smothered by Ronnie's groin. His massive balls slapped against his chin and left it slimy.

Brett couldn't hold back his wretch this time. The scent of man-musk was overwhelmingly intense and pure. Of course, he'd smelled his own scent before, especially after training or the gym but this was something else.

Ronnie rutted against Brett's face, dragging it up and down the inside of his groin. "Don't worry, Coach. You'll start liking the scent of a real man soon." Brett could feel the young man's cock hardening against his left cheek.

His head was yanked back and he gasped in the air desperately. It was no use though; Ronnie's scent was all he could smell and taste.

"Stroke me hard so I can use your mouth," Ronnie said. Brett's hand reached out and gripped the growing cock, starting to stroke without much enthusiasm. "Pick up the pace and put some fucking effort in, would ya?"

Brett obeyed, tightening the grip and increasing the speed of his strokes. He imagined he was just beating off his own dick but Ronnie's was longer, thicker and uncut, unlike his.

Ronnie's cock hardened fully within a minute, the foreskin peeling back and forth over the pink tip which was now wet and shining with precum.

It had grown to about eight inches, perfectly straight with a thick vein running down the shaft.

It's kind of a perfect cock, Brett thought. Why had he thought that?

His train of thought was distracted by Ronnie ungripping his hair and cupping his chin again, almost caressing his cheek on the way down. He ran the tip of his thumb along Brett's bottom lip, making the older man shiver. The thumb entered his mouth and he knew exactly what he was being asked to do.

Brett began to suck on the thumb, slightly bobbing his head in rhythm with his strokes. For some reason it felt instinctual.

He looked up at Ronnie, not knowing why. For approval? Praise? He pushed the question away, his focus locking onto the man he was pleasuring.

The white undershirt Ronnie wore had gotten soaked through with sweat during the game, so the material clung to his torso, tight and transparent. The grooves of his abs and his hard, pink nipples were clearly visible.

Ronnie had his free hand on his left hip and he now had his eye closed, head tipped back slightly. For a moment, Brett was glad he was doing a good job and a moment later he was horrified that thought had occurred to him at all.

It's just survival instinct, he told himself,the better I do the less they'll hurt me and the gentler they'll be.

"Looks like he's ready for something bigger," said Andreas.

"Yeah, and eager for it too." Carter and Andreas shared a conspiratorial look and laughed.

"Alright," Ronnie announced, using his Captain voice, and removing his thumb from Brett's mouth to clap his hands together. "Kits off boys."

There was a burst of motion as the players shucked off their uniforms and chucked their clothing haphazardly across the room.

Brett had seen them naked many times by now, but never like this. All of them fully hard and steadily stroking themselves, looking at their Coach hungrily.

Jake was the only one that hadn't undressed, or even moved for that matter. He was still sitting, staring at the floor and clutching the bench with white knuckles.

Ronnie took notice of this, walking over to him and crouching down so they were face to face. "C'mon, Jakey, be a good sport and strip."

"I c-can't, this isn't right. C-can I leave?" Jake forced himself to look Ronnie in the eyes with great effort.

"Well, no. Can't have you be the only one missing out on all the fun, bud." Ronnie spoke to Jake like he was a kid. "Besides..."

Brett couldn't hear what Ronnie said next, because he leaned in to whisper it into Jake's ear, giving him a slap on the shoulder when he was done.

Whatever it was, it must have been convincing. Jake stood shakily and stripped off. He may have been reluctant, but he was just as aroused as the others. His long but slender cock bounced out of his underwear and Brett was sure a string of precum dripped from the tip as he sat back down.

Gio and Asad moved three of the benches into the middle of the room, forming a makeshift table. Ronnie sat on the edge facing Brett who had not dared to move.

"Crawl," the redhead commanded. Brett forced his frozen limbs to move and got down on all fours. He heard Andreas snicker as he crawled over discarded clothes and gear, coming to a stop in between Ronnie's spread legs.

Ronnie was grinning again, clearly satisfied with the humiliation he was inflicting on the older man. "Lick my cock, slut."

"Please," Brett pleaded, "I can't... I've never..."

A thick wad of spit splashed across the bridge of his nose, immediately dripping down his face and into his moustache.

"I don't give a fuck what you think you can and can't do," Ronnie snarled, "Youwilltake our cocks in whatever hole we choose, in anywaywe choose to use them. The more you resist, the worse you get punished, so the sooner you give in the better. Is that understood?"

"Yes," Brett replied.

"Yes,sir."

"Yes, sir." Brett's voice rasped from the strain of holding back tears. He couldn't remember a time he'd been more scared.

Ronnie bounced his cock instead of repeating his initial command and Brett stuck out his tongue and gave the tip a tentative swipe. The taste of precum was a flavour he had never tasted before -- salty, with a bitter aftertaste.

The jock rolled his eyes and gripped his cock, pulling back his foreskin and rubbing the slick head up and down Brett's outstretched tongue. "Open up for me."

Brett retracted his tongue and formed his mouth into an 'o' shape. Ronnie reached around his head and guided it forward, gentler than Brett was expecting, the head of his cock and an inch of the shaft breaching the threshold of his lips.

The older man tried to think about all the pornos he had watched and the blowjobs he had received, but all he could muster was a flex of his tongue and a gentle bobbing of his head. He went on like this for about thirty seconds and was just starting to feel grateful he was being allowed to go at his own pace when Ronnie forced more of his cock into his mouth.

Suddenly he was rutting and thrusting four, five inches in and out. Brett let out a muffled cry and slammed his palms against Ronnie's thighs. He tried to push away from the intrusion but the younger man intensified his grip, forcing his dick to the back of Brett's throat.

His gag reflex triggered and he had no choice but to swallow the bile that rose up his throat. Tears flooded his eyes and streamed down his cheeks, mingling with the spit and ball sweat.

"Ah fuck, Coach, such a hot, wet mouth. Fuck, fuck, fuck." Ronnie was gripping Brett's head with both hands now, his thick fingers tangling in his hair as he dragged the mouth down to meet his thrusts.

Again and again Brett wretched, so much so that he was spasming. Spittle leaked out from his lips causing a wet sound as Ronnie's balls

slapped against his chin.

Ronnie heaved him forward, finally burying the full length of his shaft down his throat and holding him there. Brett would have screamed if he could, but with a cock now breaching his pharynx and his nose buried in a bush of ginger pubes, he was struggling to even breathe.