I stared up at the coach of our biggest rival wrestling team. His eyes locked on mine, holding them, and I felt my face go red as he expertly drew an involuntary moan from me, his hand slick with his spit and my precum as it glided up and down my shaft, pushing me closer… Closer… Closer…
“Uhhhhhhnn!” I moaned up at him, no longer to articulate the weak statements of protest I had been babbling out just moments before.
It was too late.
I was too far gone.
I couldn’t stop what was going to happen.
I didn’t want to stop it.
My hips bucked into the coaches hand as my mind went still. I had no thoughts left. All I had was pleasure. He just laughed down at me as I surrendered to him, thrusting my cock into his hand, desperate for the release that was so close.
I was about to…
He suddenly slowed down, and I fell back from the ledge, back onto solid ground.
But I didn’t want to be on solid ground, I wanted to cum!
I wanted to dive blindly over the edge!
I moaned in disappointment.
“Do you want me to make you cum?” He asked, stroking at an agonizingly slow speed.
“Yessssss, wanna cum” I groaned, my hips rocking to try and bring all the pleasure back.
His grip tightened.
His strokes gained speed.
I moaned like a bitch in heat.
The pleasure was back! I was getting closer again. Closer. Closer. Closer! Clo-ser!
“Uhhhhh, ohhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnn!” I moaned and gasped as he milked me dry, manipulating my dick to draw out every last drop of cum and pleasure.
I’d never had an orgasm like this before!
When it was over, he kept squeezing my cock, sending aftershocks of pleasure through my body. I lay there, panting, and my mind started to come back into focus. I looked up at him in shock, and let out a soft moan as he stared condescendingly down at me, smirking.
I’d debased myself for him! I’d let him make me cum! In the end, I’d wanted it.
Finally, he let go of my cock and wiped his hand across my singlet, smearing more cum over it. I could feel more of my load soaking into the spandex from my neck to my abs.
“Look at that mess,” he said, shaking his head. “Your match is in five minutes, here let me help,” he reached out and started smearing my load across my singlet, spreading it, soaking the thin material. “Better get ready, you don’t want to miss your match,” he called back over his shoulder as he walked out of the room.
I looked down at myself and blushed at the sight of cum spread all over my front, and my cock hanging out of the torn crotch of my singlet.
Fuck! How am I going to compete like this?
As humiliation and shame filled me, I grasped my still mostly erect cock. It swelled back to life in my fist and I started to frantically stroke myself, my own cum slicking my strokes and filling the air with a sticky slapping sound.
I couldn’t stop remembering him, looking down at me.
I couldn’t stop remembering the way he’d made me feel.
I couldn’t stop wanting him to do it again.
I kept stroking, thinking of him, of how big and strong he was, at how his hand had felt on my dick.
I moaned loudly, shamelessly, and blasted a tinier load across my singlet.
I looked at the clock. Two minutes!
I got to my feet and tried to stuff my erection back into my singlet, pulling the tear closed and using my legs to keep it shut. I knew that there was no way it would go unnoticed, even if they overlooked the fact that the front of my singlet was soaked with two loads of cum, as soon as we started wrestling…
I could smell all the cum that was soaking me.
I moaned and started walking for the door. I knew that everyone was about to see, but my match was about to start. I had to get out there. I felt the spandex start to part as I pushed the door open, and squeezed my thighs tighter in an attempt to hold it closed…
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