Written with Corporal Cody
Charlottesville, Final Exercises, 2006
It was tough keeping secrets sometimes, I thought, as I looked around the restaurant bar where everyone had gathered. It was a nondescript space, bright and well lit for a bar with a muted TV showing a basketball game that no one was watching. With the whole town packed that Saturday night, this seemed as good a place as any to gather.
I was still on an adrenaline rush from a whirlwind of a day. It felt great to have a win against Virginia Tech, but the game had also been my last regular season game as a Cavalier. And it was also graduation weekend, and Final Exercises would take place the next day – Sunday.
Tomorrow would be the official big family meal to celebrate my bachelor’s degree. But almost everyone had arrived in town the night before. My brother Matt couldn’t make it, on account of his Navy training. I grew up getting used to the Navy keeping Dad away from family functions, and he even missed my high school graduation. But Dad made it this time. My two eldest brothers both flew in, solo, for a short 24-hour visit. A pleasant surprise was that Uncle Mike and his partner Lisa were in all the way from Arizona. And rounding out the party was Jack Grant, who drove in from D.C.
So after a casual dinner, it ended up being an impromptu party as we all migrated from the dining area to the bar. Everyone was semi-dressed up, me included. I’d left my cap at home, instead, putting some product in my hair to give my soft curls a little shape. I’d texted Kyle to come join us. I texted Holt, too, but he wasn’t sure if he could make it.
It was great – being around family and friends – but things still felt a little weird. More than a little weird, actually: Over a month ago, when I went home for Easter, Dad dropped a bombshell on me right before my drive back to Charlottesville, telling me he’d been dating someone pretty steadily for a while.
“I know I told you I didn’t date men, Slugger,” I could still hear him say in that steady, serious, Navy Captain voice of his as he sat across from me in the living room. I could see the nervous, but resolute look in his gray eyes and stoic face. “But I guess things change.”
Dad had begged off sex over the last year. We’d had the option to, but this was probably a healthy move. His revelation that day made that decision make even more sense.
I was happy for Dad, honest. But I felt like I should have been happier. As it was, I felt a conflicted swirl of emotions that had stayed with me over the last several weeks.
This occasion was bringing those emotions out. Dad was looking handsome as ever, still physically fit for a man now 50. His straight, dark brown hair now even more gray, the silver at his temples now turning to solid streaks. I can’t say if it was the Navy or the occasion, but he’d also gotten a fresh haircut – the sides trimmed close with the top just long enough to part – that classic Navy officer style that was just so him. He wore a dark button-down shirt over his big chest and strong shoulders. He laughed, the lines around his eyes and mouth only making him look even more distinguished. He looked happy, animated in conversation as he caught up with Lisa, while nearby, Kyle talked baseball with Uncle Mike.
Meanwhile, I was in a corner of the bar area with Jack. Moments before, he had walked over and offered to get me a beer, and now was coming back to where I was standing on my own.
The bright lights of the bar did little to hide Jack’s natural handsomeness – modelesque face and cleanly shaven. His longer, dark blond hair on top was combed and gelled to the side and back – a bit too stylish for the Navy, maybe, but it looked great on him. Jack was dressed casually in a crisp t-shirt and jeans, which showed off his physique in a non-showy way. At 40, the man looked fantastic as ever.
“Here ya go, Jim,” he said, offering me a fresh pint. Jack sidled up next to me against the wall, both of us looking out at the rest of the party. There was a small silence, one that only months ago, would have felt so alien, especially between him and me. He was clearly walking on eggshells around me. His amber-ish eyes somehow matched a shade of the draft beer in his hand.
“So, Bob tells me he told you about us,” Jack Grant said quietly now that we had a free moment alone in the conversation going on around us, his normally confident stature seeming downright nervous as he examined my expression.
Yes, Jack – Uncle Jack, Dad’s best friend, Lieutenant Commander Grant, my first, the man who took my cherry – was my dad’s boyfriend.
“He did,” I replied, matter-of-factly. My tone of voice was a little frostier than it should have been. Part of me wanted to be supportive, but I had history with Jack, not to mention Dad, and that made this hard. Knowing he and Dad had been fuck-buddies once, only seemed to add another layer.
“I don’t blame you for being mad at me, Jim. I…” Jack started to say, his voice calmly apologetic. But I was quick to interrupt him.
“Jack, I’m not mad at you,” I sighed, realizing I’d been dreading this conversation. “I’m just… It’s just complicated,” I said with a small shrug. Jack knew only half of the reason for that complication – our own history – but that was enough.
Jack seemed pained, but I could also see that he was also putting on a brave face. He nodded, his lips tight and jaw tensed. Weirdly enough, that’s when I got the sense of how much he loved Dad. This conversation was tough for him, too, and he was doing it for Dad.
That’s what made my defenses melt some.
“I wasn’t sure if I should come,” Jack added, “but it’s your graduation, and it felt only right.”
“I’m glad you’re here, Jack. For real.” I nudged his elbow with mine to reassure him. I now missed that low-key, flirty, friend-mentor vibe we once had. “It’s… complicated, OK?” I wish I had another word for it, but that’s how I felt.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
Just then, Charlie Holt bounded up, seemingly out of nowhere. “McGrath, you fucker,” he greeted, his voice a little loud like always as his football strength pulled me into a bro hug. I’d never been more grateful for his brashness in my life. Somehow, it broke the tension between me and Jack, and I watched the Lieutenant Commander break out in a smile at the cosmic timing of Holt’s interruption. I hid a chuckle, too.
“I’m Charlie,” he greeted with his Virgina twang, introducing himself to Jack with an extension of his beefy mitt.
“Jack,” the Navy officer replied, shaking Holt’s hand. “Friend of the family.”
“You made it,” I said dumbly. Holt had come without Scott, and I worried he was looking out for my closeted state with Kyle here as well.
“Hell yeah, I made it buddy,” he grinned. Very much in his outgoing, affable mood. “I’m behind on the count… can I get this round?” he offered.
“Yeah,” I said, holding up a nearly empty pint glass. “If you’re buying, I’ll take something imported. Not the cheap stuff,” I joked.
“Your big weekend, McGrath,” Holt grinned with a wink. Then turning to Jack. “What about you, sir?”
“Jack,” the Naval officer corrected Charlie. “And I’ll have what he’s having, thanks.”
Holt came back with a couple of beers in short order and the conversation between us slipped into more casual, small talk territory. I was glad. And when the conversation returned to baseball and UVA’s chances in postseason, I felt on more confident, familiar territory.
Being a baseball player always meant the school year ended differently for you than for a normal student. The ACC championship tournament would start Wednesday, and potentially I’d be playing into early June. But for now, it was sinking in that I was not only done with school but also done with college.
I’d worked my ass off so much. Since New Years, I had cut back on my socializing time and my drinking. I had saved my easiest course load for my final semester – taking only four easy electives in the Spring while I focused on baseball. I put all my extra energy into lifting, cardio, diet, and, most of all, a shit ton of batting practice. I was getting better, at the top of my game even. This was the final push of my college baseball career.
The three of us chatted some before Holt went off to get a second drink, stopping to talk to my brothers.
Pretty soon Uncle Mike and his girlfriend, Lisa, came over to say they were leaving for the night. Since she and Mike lived in Phoenix, I didn’t see them enough, but they were making a mini vacation out of this trip, taking some time to visit the East Coast and go to the beach in South Carolina.
Lisa and Mike have been together for what feels like forever, and I always liked her. She was one of those people who was nice without being fake-nice or losing her sense of sarcastic humor.
“I’m letting you guys continue the party without me,” she said, leaning in to give me a gentle hug, my frame towering over her 5’8″ stature. “See you tomorrow, babe,” she said in that playful affectionate tone she always had with me and my brothers. I don’t know what she thought about the mostly male energy of the McGrath crowd, but maybe with Uncle Mike and his baseball colleagues and buddies, she was used to that.
“So glad you could make it here this weekend, Lisa,” I said. For all intents and purposes, she was my aunt, though she insisted we call her just Lisa.
“My pleasure, Jim,” she said.
Uncle Mike offered a strong handshake, grinning behind his trimmed, light brown goatee. He so often wore a ball cap but that evening was a little less casual. “Jim… see you tomorrow buddy… I was gonna keep this a surprise, but I’ll be at your Dad’s place during the Draft, if you’re done with your playing by then. Either way, I lined up an agent buddy to help out…. consider it a graduation present.”
“Whoa,” I said, excited and surprised. “That’s awesome, Uncle Mike. Honestly… God…” I felt unable to find the appropriate words to thank him as I immediately hugged him. Uncle Mike chuckled as he patted my back.
Pulling back, he placed a hand on my shoulder. “Well, I’m proud of you, and I’m hopeful you’ll make it, Jim. But we’ll see.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
Jack looked on with a smirk. And when Mike and Lisa left, I asked him what it was for.
“I dunno, Jim,” he said. “It’s just from the outside… I guess I don’t fully grasp just how hard it is to go pro. It’s impressive.”
“I haven’t gone pro yet,” I reminded him.
I was glad that my easygoing rapport with Jack Grant had returned. And, in a detached way, I knew exactly what attracted my father to the man. I got the sense that Jack maybe had his share of emotional issues, but he was an all-around good guy, and stunningly handsome to boot. Dad loved the Navy, and no one was more of a poster boy for the Navy than Jack.
As we talked, my oldest brother John walked up and joined us. I was glad, even touched, that John was here. I remember John and Dad having a rocky relationship when I was growing up. But it was better now. And I was glad I got to see more of my brother as of late. He reminded me the most of mom, with his leaner nose and high cheekbones, and he had the slimmer build of the men on mom’s side of the family. But he still inherited Dad’s brown hair, and like me, blue eyes.
“Big weekend, huh, Jim?” John said as he clinked my pint glass with his. “Though I skipped my college graduation,” he smiled.
“For real?” I laughed. Dad had been deployed during my oldest brother’s graduation, and it wasn’t feasible for us brothers to go to Chicago for it. Paul was just starting police academy, and Matt and I were still in high school.
“I kinda regret it now, but yeah…” he said. “The parties were fun, though.”
“You got anything planned for the weekend?” Jack asked, a knowing smirk on his face.
I shrugged. “Well, Charlie tells me he’s lined up a couple of parties. Dude’s been out of college for a year and yet he somehow still knows where to go.” I took a sip of beer and added, “And a few of the baseball seniors are getting together. But I’ll be seeing them a lot next week.”
“Where’s your tournament?” John asked.
“Jacksonville. ACC Tournament. We’ll see how it goes from there.”
“Well, good luck,” my brother said.
I realized I hadn’t had too much of a chance to catch up with John. Sure, we had the occasional phone call and texts, but nothing too deep as of late.
“So, how are things with Rachel?” I asked.
He gave a little smile. “Pretty good, I’d say,” he said with a small nod. “We’re actually going to move in together.”
“Wow, for real?” I asked, trying not to sound too shocked. It’s not that I thought of my oldest brother as a player, but he didn’t seem to stick to one girlfriend for too long.
He chuckled at my reaction. “For real. Rachel’s amazing and we figured it’s time to take it to the next step…. you should come to visit sometime, Jim.”
“I’d like to,” I said. Now that school was out of the way, maybe I could take a few days to visit my brother in Chicago.
It was actually getting late now, and just as we were getting ready to wrap things up for the evening, I managed to pull Charlie aside to talk one-on-one.
“Man, I feel bad that you didn’t feel like you could bring Scott along,” I apologized.
Holt quickly clapped my back, “I got your back, McGrath. Scott and I get it.”
“Thanks, man. I’m a heel, but thanks.”
“Damn, you’re not gonna get moody on your own fucking graduation weekend, are ya?” he teased.
I laughed. “You know me,” I said. Then I added. “See if Scott can come to lunch tomorrow.”
Holt nodded and sipped his beer. “Sure. He’d love to. We can even play it low key for Kyle.”
“Kyle won’t be there,” I said. “And my family would love to meet Scott…” I made my voice a little quieter. “Though I don’t think most of them have any idea you’re gay,” I laughed.
“If you’re trying to goad me into wearing gold lame to your graduation dinner, McGrath, don’t tempt me,” Charlie joked as he bumped elbows with me. “I’ll fucking do it.”
I laughed. Holt never lacked in outgoing brashness, but it was fun to see him get a newer, freer side to his personality.
* * *
We didn’t stay out too late, but when Kyle and I got back to our apartment, we decided to cap off the evening with one more beer before bed to celebrate the end of our regular season.
“It was cool talking to your uncle,” Kyle said as we walked from the kitchen with two cold bottles of beer in hand.
“It’s been awesome having him looking out for me,” I said. I’d always looked up to Uncle Mike and had sought his advice for baseball. But over the last year, I’d turned to him more and more to hear all about scouting and being as ready as I could to make my bid for professional ball after graduation. The fact that he was going to arrange an agent for me was just incredible news.
“You feeling nervous about the draft, Jim?” Kyle asked as we took a seat in our living room, slouching all the way back on the couch next to each other.
“Oh yeah,” I said, feeling tipsy from a full evening of drinking. Nothing hardcore, but I’d had a few beers and was feeling pleasantly buzzed and relaxed. “I mean, I guess I’ve done what I can by now,” I added. “It’s out of my hands.”
“Well, you better call me the second you get picked.” Kyle nodded thoughtfully. He was empathetic and also anticipated being in my position when he graduated next year.
“If… I get picked,” I corrected, turning my head to look at him. I had a good and realistic sense that some team would want me, even if I was selected for a later round. But there was a superstitious part of me that didn’t want to count on it.
“You’ve had an incredible season,” Kyle said honestly. “You’ll get drafted.”
“Thanks, buddy,” I smiled. It usually made me nervous to even think about the MLB draft, much less talk about it, but I knew my roommate and good friend wouldn’t sugar coat things.
We finished our beers, and Kyle stood up, picking up my empty bottle with his. Unlike Holt, Kyle Avery was neat and tidy – cleaner than I was, even.
“I’m heading to Julie’s parents’ tomorrow,” he reminded me. Kyle was spending the month after regionals at his parents’ home and at baseball camp, so he wanted to get as much time with his girlfriend beforehand. “Enjoy graduation though… sorry to miss the party,” he laughed.
“It’s just wild to think that I’m actually finishing college,” I reflected.
“Bet you can’t wait,” Kyle grinned.
“Yes and no,” I answered.
“All right, Jim…” he announced, as he was clearly getting tired. “I’ll see you Tuesday.”
“Yep,” I said.
Kyle took our bottles, leaving them in the kitchen, before we made our way to our respective bedrooms. I was surprised how the day caught up with me, and practically the second I slid in between my bedsheets, I was asleep.
* * *
I woke up early the next morning. I had a busy day ahead, but I guess I couldn’t stop thinking about a million things at once: our team’s postseason, the baseball draft, Dad and Jack, and whether my brothers knew yet…. But foremost in my mind was graduation, which had seemed anticlimactic at first, secondary to the end of my last college baseball season. But now that the day was on me, the milestone was getting me more excited.
I got up, making my way into the kitchen in just my boxer briefs and made some coffee. Cup in hand, I went back to my room to fire up my laptop to send an email to Sean Carter:
“Command Sergeant Major Carter,
Sorry it took me to take a couple of days to respond to your email. I’ve been pretty busy with the end of our regular baseball season.
It’s always great to get an email from you, sir. I’m glad things are quieting down for you over in Iraq, at least for now. You mentioned seeing ancient ruins. I know you’re there for other things than sightseeing, but I’d be interested in knowing what it was like to see them in person. My dad’s real into history books and is always reading about ancient battles and stuff. It’s something I should know more about, I guess.
To answer your question about my favorite food, I guess I’m more an “eat what’s in front of me” kind of guy. I do like good BBQ, though maybe my favorite is a burger grilled right over a charcoal grill. I’m a simple man, ha. I gotta confess, I’m not much of a cook.
What about you? Any food you miss most from home when you’re deployed?
And I’ve never asked you: when is your deployment up?
Today is Final Exercises, which is what they call graduation here at UVA. My family’s in town, everyone except my brother Matt, the Navy pilot. We all went out last night for a little celebration, though the big dinner will be today.
I didn’t expect to feel weird graduating. I mean, it’s something you kind of look forward to for a while, but when it comes, you realize you’re going to miss the place and miss your friends. I’m sure I’ll keep in touch with some of my teammates. Maybe I’ll play professional ball and see them in the minors. Who knows.
This has become sappy, sorry about that. I should have just written, “I hope you’re doing well and are safe and sound.”
your friend,Jim”
I actually read over the email a couple of times before I sent it. It WAS sappy, but I figured I could share what was on my mind with Sean. Over the past months, I realized his replies could be encouraging or blunt – Army advice. But either way, I valued his perspective, which was more experienced than mine and also impartial. I hovered my finger over the mouse button then clicked it to send.
I didn’t know what these emails to Sean Carter represented to me. Pen pal, friend, fuck buddy… maybe all that rolled into one. I mean, I kept in regular email touch with my ex-turned-friend, Sarah, who was now in Argentina. Maybe this Army NCO was just another friend to keep in touch with.
But this felt different. I got excited each time I saw a new email in my inbox from Sean. I even enjoyed reading between the lines for some reference to our mutual sexual chemistry. And damn, did we have some chemistry. More than a few times, I jacked off reminiscing about that night in Philly. The Army man had a cock with the skill and demonor to pound me off to a power orgasm.
Like the man himself, his emails were concise and to-the-point. But then again, he was also flirty and playful. I know he had A LOT of rank, but I guess with Dad being a Navy Captain, I was just used to it.
We’d had the chance for phone sex a couple of times as well, and each time had been as scorching hot as the first. Sean had the sexiest deep voice and his willingness to go for intense sex talk inspired me to return my best. The man loved to describe all the things he wanted to do to me. And he loved listening to me reassure him I wanted him to do anything he wanted to me. I made sure he came first, but I was always quick to blast once he did.
“It’s so hot to hear you cum, Jim,” the Army man said at the end of our last phone conversation, that deep Southern accent reminding me of the night I met him. Even over the phone I could almost hear a smile on his ruggedly handsome face. “All right, I gotta go, man. Fucking phone card…. email me, all right?”
“Of course,” was all I had the time to say before the phone clicked dead.
I now took a sip of coffee, and as I looked at my inbox, an email appeared. Command Sgt. Major Sean Carter, US Army. Eagerly, I opened it.
“Jim,
Talk about timing. I was just about to email you when I saw your message appear. Made my day.
Congratulations, man! You always act so modest, but it’s a big deal. Celebrate your accomplishment. I know your family will.
The only bad thing about your email is that it reminds me how much I miss being home. Miss you, buddy.
your friend,
Sean”
My heart pounded. I thought of firing back a reply, but I didn’t want to write for the sake of just writing something. I wanted to have something to say to him in my next reply. Plus, his own email was short, which made me think he didn’t have a lot of time.
I shut my laptop instead and decided to get ready for the day.
* * *
Final Exercises started at 10, to be held on the Lawn. It ended up being a perfect spring day for it – warm and breezy, but not too hot. Under my cap and gown, I was wearing the tailored navy suit Dad got me last year for the Cavaliers’ fundraiser, though I’d left my suit coat in Dad’s car to stay cooler. I’d styled my short but lengthening blond hair with enough product to tame it into a more presentable look. And I wore a new plaid tie Dad had given me – part graduation present, part commemoration for the occasion. I’d come to consider it my lucky tie over the years.
All us seniors were gathered in the rotunda, me with the other seniors from the baseball team. If the other guys were feeling any nerves about graduation, or the future, like I was… they were doing a pretty good job at hiding it. Their excitement was infectious.
The event itself was exciting at first, then a little boring. But at the end, after my name was announced and I walked across the stage to get my diploma, it did sink in that it really was a turning point in my life. After the end of the ceremony, I touched base with my fellow baseball seniors to make plans for later. Then I made my way to the meeting point where I’d planned to meet my family. It took me a minute of looking around, but I could make out Dad from the crowd. Then the rest of my family next to him.
There was a separate ceremony for the McIntire School of Commerce, but I’d be skipping that. One graduation was enough for me, I decided, and John and Paul had flights to catch late afternoon.
There were handshakes and hugs all around, and we took a bunch of pictures… too many damn pictures, with every combination of people in them. But it was awesome to see the day reflected in their eyes. Dad, of course, but even John and Paul kind of seemed emotional in their wisecracking way.
“Our baby bro’s all grown up, huh?” Paul smirked as he gripped my shoulder in a hug as we walked to the restaurant. I probably looked goofy in my slightly undersized cap and gown, but there were thousands of other graduates in the same boat.
Over our meal we kind of broke off into different conversations. I was sitting between Paul and Scott, who were hitting it off really well. They talked football and law enforcement, and it turns out Scott had a good friend in Kansas City, so they talked about that, too.
Though no one announced anything about it, it was clear that Scott was Holt’s boyfriend, and it was great to see that it didn’t faze my family one bit. I guess I could imagine myself introducing someone special in my life, if it ever got to that point. More immediately, though, I wondered about Dad and Jack, and what their dating meant, and might mean, for the family.
After we finished our lunch, I heard a glass clink. John stood up, across the table from me and raised a wine glass.
“A toast to my little brother. To a job well done and best wishes for whatever your future brings you. Love you, Jim.”
I nodded in grateful acknowledgment of his words then we all raised and clinked our glasses.
John had barely sat down, when Dad stood up. He was in a fitted blue sportcoat and pressed dress shirt. He was looking extra handsome as he looked at me with proud gray eyes. He held his own wine glass up and forward.
“Mike told me I shouldn’t give one of my speeches,” Dad started, “but I’m gonna do it anyway.”
My uncle chuckled and looked on.
My father continued: “Those here who are not family may not know, but we all lost someone special ten years ago. Jim’s mother… her passing was a huge loss to all of us, but Jim was the youngest then – 12 – and it hit him really hard.” Dad then turned to face me directly. “I don’t think I realized before then how much of a fighter you are, Slugger, but you are. I was proud then, and still am proud now, of how you dealt with loss and didn’t let it stop you… And in… being open about who you are… maybe you can’t tell the world, but you told us, and you’re a fighter there, too…”
God, Dad was getting emotional, and it made me even more so as I bit my lip to keep my emotions in check.
“… and with baseball… I can’t guarantee how that’s gonna pan out, no one can… but again… you’re a fighter. Going after your dreams. I admire you, son, and I’m proud as hell of you. Happy graduation, Slugger.”
I was holding back tears, but I kept it together.
I think Paul wanted to come to my rescue, because he cracked a joke as soon as Dad sat down. “Damn, Dad. I shoulda had you as my best man.”
* * *
The group disbanded after the celebratory meal. Jack headed back to D.C., Mike and Lisa were driving to the Blue Ridge Mountains, and John and Paul went to the airport for their flights back home.
Dad and I hung out for a little bit in my apartment living room, though he’d be heading back to Norfolk before it got too late in the afternoon.
“Hope I didn’t embarrass you at lunch, Slugger,” Dad said as we sat on the couch in my place as I loosened my tie and partially unbuttoned the top of my shirt. I knew what he was referring to.
“No, sir,” I grinned. “I mean, maybe a little. But it means a lot coming from you, Dad.”
“I guess you got a party tonight?” Dad asked.
“A couple,” I answered. “I’m meeting up with Charlie later.”
“You gonna be safe?” Dad asked, a reminder as much as a question.
“Come on, Dad,” I objected with a laugh.
He gave me a grin. “I’m still your dad… gotta do the ‘dad’ thing.”
“Don’t worry about me, Dad,” I said.
He gave me an earnest look, just like the one he gave during his toast. “Will you need any help moving your stuff back?” he asked.
I’d be moving out as soon as the team got back from regionals, or maybe a championship tournament.
“I have a few things to send back with you, but I should be able to drive the rest back myself.” I didn’t have plans to take any real furniture with me, just my clothes and personal belongings.
We chatted a while longer, nothing major, just more talk about moving. Dad didn’t seem to be in a rush, and it was nice to have the one-on-time. And, there’s no other way to put it. Dad just looked hot in his blazer and dress shirt, the navy bringing out the steel-gray of his eyes and the slightly tanned skin of his stoically handsome face. And his body seemed both bigger and trimmer in the attire.
“I guess we haven’t talked about your next year, Jim,” Dad said. “But if you need to live at home for a while, you know you’re welcome to.”
I gave a little grimace. I had relished the independence of having my own place in Charlottesville, but I was facing the reality that I’d be scrimping by in the minors – if I made it. “Thanks, Dad. We’ll know in a week, won’t we?”
My father nodded with an encouraging smile. “That, we will. Listen… I guess we haven’t really checked in since Easter,” he said.
“No, sir,” I said after a brief pause. Then gaining the words I wanted to really say, I continued. “But I’m happy for you, Dad. Really. I didn’t say that then, and I regret that,” I assured him. My conflicted feelings were still there, but seeing Jack in person and hearing Dad’s speech earlier… I don’t know, it just felt like he was entering a new phase of his life, too. He hadn’t asked for my blessing in so many words, but he deserved it.
It was like Dad was reading my mind. Or just thinking the same thing. His voice faltered a little as he spoke. “I guess I’ve been trying to figure out some stuff in my life, too. I’m officially an empty nester now, you know,” he said with a wink. “But seriously, Jim, I want you to know that my home is yours till you get settled in your life. And I know you will.”
“I’ll be sure not to wear out my welcome,” I said. “If you ever need privacy, or anything, let me know. Honestly, Dad.”
“Thanks, Jim,” Dad replied.
He gave a little sigh, and it was clear the conversation had run its course. Dad looked at his military watch. “If you have some things ready, I can go ahead and load them up. I want to get back before dark.” It was like his military mission-focus had now transferred to my move.
I got up, walked to my room, and pulled out a few boxes. I wish I’d been more organized to send more home, but this would be a good start. Dad and I took them out to his car. I could tell he was eager to hit the road since he kept his keys in his hand.
“Update me with how the regionals go,” Dad requested. “And maybe I’ll see you home at the end of the week?”
“Yeah, Dad, will do,” I said.
“All right then,” my father said as he opened his arms and gestured for a hug. I stepped into his embrace, feeling his thick, hard body against mine as I held him close. It wasn’t overly long, but it was tight. He patted my back and muttered in my ear. “I meant what I said earlier. I’m proud as hell of you, Slugger.”
* * *
Holt and I ended up going to three parties. One with some football guys Holt still kept in touch with, one with my baseball teammates, and a random one that we tagged along to. At the last one, I ran into Brandon, the fraternity brother I’d had sex with a couple of times last year, the one I’d met in Cancun. But he didn’t miss a beat in acting like I was just a long-lost party dude from some fraternity mixer. We gave each other a bro hug and Brandon introduced me and Holt to some of his friends who were there.
I did tequila shots with Charlie, and after more beer, did some more. We got really wasted, and I barely remember walking home well after midnight. I don’t think I’d been that drunk in ages. Holt sprawled out on the couch, while I went to pass out in my bed.
The next day, I slept in. Even with a slight hangover, I relished having a late start to the day, and I realized I hadn’t really done that in a while. When I made my way to the living room I saw that Holt had roused too, and was slipping on his sneakers. His wispy brown hair was tousled from a night’s sleep on the couch. He looked like hell.
“Good thing your graduation only comes once, McGrath,” he muttered. “I’m hungover as shit.”
I laughed. “Want some coffee, Holt?”
He shook his head. “Nah, I’m just gonna head back home and put up with Scott razzing me for partying so hard.”
He stood up, still dressed in last night’s clothes, not looking as bad as he probably felt. “Bring it in, buddy,” Charlie croaked in his morning voice. “I probably won’t see you before you head out of town…” I met my best friend in a deep hard clasp of a hug. Of everything I experienced that weekend, THIS felt hard. I knew it wasn’t a final goodbye, but I’d be moving away from C-ville, and I wouldn’t be seeing much of Charlie or Scott.
“Thanks for everything, man,” I said, patting his back, almost not wanting to let go. “I love you like a brother, you know that, right?”
Holt had a wry smile when he pulled back, and I thought he was gonna tease me or make a wisecrack. “Just stay in touch, McGrath,” he said simply.
“I will.”
* * *
After Holt left, I had a quick breakfast, showered, and then changed into casual shorts and a T-shirt. I wanted to get over to the bookstore that day to sell back some books, and I needed to start packing my stuff.
It’s remarkable how quickly Grounds emptied out once the semester was over. I always liked that the summers were quiet, and I now lamented I wasn’t going to enjoy it this year. With any luck, I’d be playing in the minor leagues within a month. If not, I’d be living at home, finding a job in Norfolk, and trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.
I got some cash for my books and spent a little of it on some lunch. The weather was nice, surprisingly not too hot yet, and I grabbed an outdoor table to eat. The sunshine and fresh air was helping me get over my hangover, and I was enjoying the quiet down time alone after a crazy packed weekend.
Just then I felt my phone buzz with a text. I pulled it out of my pocket and didn’t recognize the number. I felt a small flash of nervousness, as for a split second I thought it was Rear Admiral Henson. But I quickly realized it wasn’t. I read over the message a few times to try to place it: “Hi Jim, Coach Thompson here. you might not remember me but we kind of met a couple years ago.”
I was trying to remember a Coach Thompson, and I wasn’t having any luck. But then another text came. “Only we didn’t exactly exchange names then.”
Something about the wording made it click. This was the beefy, rural, high school football coach I’d met during my foray into online hookups, before dating Greg. It had been a nice oral sex hookup, even if we’d both been a little nervous. I’d given the man my number but hadn’t heard back from him until now – almost 2 years later.
“Oh yeah,” I typed. “Hi there.”
“Hi,” came the reply. “Sorry for texting out of the blue. But I’ll be up your way this evening. I thought I’d reach out just in case you were interested in meeting.”
I tried to remember what this man looked like. I couldn’t conjure all the details of his physical appearance vividly, but I remembered he looked every bit like a high school football coach in his 50s, and that we had incredible chemistry.
Talk about good timing. I had the apartment to myself, and this was about the end of my time here in Charlottesville. I know I was grinning as I typed back. “I’d love that. I have the place to myself.” I wasn’t sure about typing anything too incriminating. Who knows who reads the man’s texts. If I remembered correctly, Coach Thompson was married. Plus, I had a nagging fear this might be someone pulling a stunt on me.
Thankfully, his response was quick and effusive. “Awesome, man!!! I’ll be in Cville around 4:30.”
I was getting excited and more than a little hard in my shorts as I sat at my table alone. I reached down and adjusted when I made sure I wasn’t being too conspicuous. Then I typed back. “Works for me. Remember where I live?”
“Sort of,” Coach replied. “Better send me your address.”
I did as instructed and got a quick response. “Looking forward to it, buddy. Seriously, you made my afternoon.” Then: “I’ll text you when I have a clearer ETA.”
I felt giddy and a little tingly nervous the whole walk back to my place as my cock had calmed down, but never went completely soft. Lately, I had no sex life. None. Nothing since New Year’s, other than a few phone sex sessions with CSM Sean Carter and a lot of quick stroke sessions to relieve the pent up loads that my young athletic body seemed to produced with even more regularity. It was OK, and my semi-enforced celibacy made things easier to manage living with Kyle. But I really missed sex. Missed the physical contact with another man. Missed that hormonal relief.
Knowing I was probably going to get some that day made me excited and more than a little horny when I finally got back. I did some more packing and tidied up around the place while I waited for his text. I almost worried it wouldn’t happen now, but around 4 o’clock I got a message. “30 minutes away.”
I gripped my boner through my shorts and massaged it teasingly before letting it go. I watched some porn at my halfway packed-up desk, then worried I was going to be overstimulated. I didn’t have to wait long for him to show up. There was the telltale knock at my door.
When I answered it, I was reminded just how hot this guy was. Coach Thompson matched me in height as he stood just outside the door and removed his sunglasses, hooking them in the open placket of his polo shirt. He was more confident this time, much less jittery than I remembered. He did admit I was his first online hookup, but that was years ago. So maybe things had changed.
The man was hot, I’ll say: probably closer to his mid 50s now and maybe had more of a belly, but still in great shape and very solid in his arms, shoulders and chest. Total coach bod that filled out a white polo shirt with his school logo on it. Some silvery chest hair tufted over the skin was visible between the top buttons open on his shirt, and the backs of his hands and arms were also covered in wiry-soft fur. Best of all was that silvery hair on his head, completely gray-white now, offsetting his tan weathered face and his icy blue eyes.
“Hey there, bud,” he grinned, a rural Virginia accent like Holt’s, and thicker than I remember. “So glad this worked out.”
“Yeah, me too,” I grinned “Come in.”
We’d had such clear chemistry before, but now we stood a little awkwardly face to face, our heights matched evenly. It was coming back to me now, the memory of his nervousness the last time. “You don’t know how many times I almost reached out to you. Guess I didn’t have the balls.”
“It’s cool,” I assured him. “Glad you did.”
He shuffled a little, placing hands in the pockets of his khakis. It seemed like he was dressed for work. “I had a day conference thing up state. Cut out early, and I figure this buys me a little time.”
I sighed, getting turned on. This man was more than 30 years older than me, and I relished the chance to have sex with someone like him. Solid, masculine, the real deal.
“God, you’re really hot,” I said as my eyes raked up his body.
That made the man smile and laugh. “Coming from you, buddy, that’s a hell of a compliment.”
He was stepping up to me now, pulling the sunglasses from the crook of his shirt’s neck and placing them on my coffee table before getting closer, thick arms reaching out to touch my waist. His pecs filled out that polo in amazingly hard mounds, and I took the opportunity to reach up to place my hands square on them as our faces neared each other before finally meeting, our mouths coming together in a slow, smooth motion.
Our kiss was easy going. Sexual and naughty as our tongues explored each other’s mouth. He tasted like spearmint gum, which I guess he’d had before meeting me. I moaned softly into his kiss while his hands grip my lower back, pulling me into him, his hardon now grinding against mine. Maybe I’d have to reflect why I found the no-strings fooling around like this easier than a steady thing. For now, I was just gonna enjoy the hell out of this.
While Coach probled my mouth with his tongue, I felt up his beefy bod, my hands practically kneading those hard chest muscles before slipping down to his belly then around to feel up his back. Other than the midsection he was all firm, and clearly had some power to his brawn. It’s not that he was more built than other men I’d been with, but his muscle was very hard in a tensed up way, like his age meant this body rebelled from some regular weight workouts.
He moaned deeply into my kiss and reached down to grip my hardon. He finally pulled back. “Yeah… I remember this big honking dick of yours.”
“Wanna go to the bedroom?” I asked.
He nodded, giddy like a kid. “Yeah, bud,” he said as he took a second to run his fingers through my curling blond hair.
Once in my bedroom, we kicked off our shoes and otherwise climbed on the bed clothed. We lay side by side, facing each other, and started making out. I could feel this warmth as we caressed each other’s bodies and got off on the differences between us. It was a nice change of pace, watching his erection more fully tent out his khakis. I ran my hand along his snug knit polo, and he openly appraised my body. We kissed off and on, but Coach Thompson made it clear he had a good deal of time and wanted to enjoy this session.
There was something erotic about the man’s thick tongue and the way it plunged in and out of my mouth, before I battled back with my own. I broke off our kiss with a goofy grin, realizing how much I was loving the makeout time.
“Should I call you Coach?” I asked. At that point I wanted a connection beyond a wordless hookup, even if it was a one time thing.
His weathered face almost dimpled up in a smile. “My first name’s Stan… figure I can trust you with that.”
“Yessir,” I replied, softly running my fingers under the hem of his polo shirt and making contact with his soft belly. It wasn’t big, but the ex-jock definitely had some middle-aged spread. I decided I liked it.
It was like the man was waiting for my cue, because his fingers traced beneath my T-shirt and touched my bare flesh, half cautious, half greedy. “But you can call me Coach if you want,” he winked. “It’d be hot actually.”
My hands traveled up further to feel the soft fur on his stomach. “You ever make it with one of your players?”
I regretted asking the second I did, but Stan let out a horny chuckle. “Fuck, I wish. I mean, I never would, but it’s a hot idea.”
Something about our clear physical interest in one another made me open up. “I used to jerk off all the time thinking about my high school coach,” I admitted. “Still do, to be honest.”
That made the man growl softly. His fingers caressed my tight abs and obliques, almost tickling my flesh beneath my shirt. “What’s his name, bud?”
The talk had gotten strangely personal, but Stan had entrusted me with his name, I figured I could reply honestly. “Coach Weir.”
Stan’s voice got lower and softer, almost gravelly. “What would you do with Coach Weir if you had the chance?” I could tell he was asking vicariously, imagining one of his players lusting after him.
I hesitated as Stan pulled back from my touch. He sat up, gripping the bottom of his polo and pulling it up and off his beefy body. There it was, all that magnificent coach bulk bared for me. His chest hair was thick like before, but was even grayer now. His pecs were capped with red-pink nipples that stuck out in little nubs. Coach Thompson was turned on, all right. He tossed his shirt off the bed behind him and lay back down. The only thing left on his upper body was a thin gold necklace.
I copied his move, removing my shirt and letting him see my body, which had bulked up since our last encounter. I knew from his eyes that he very much approved of the changes.
“I dunno, man,” I reflected. “I mean, in my fantasies, I’m eating Coach Weir out good then fucking him.”
“Damn, buddy,” Stan exclaimed.
“Too much?” I asked.
The coach shook his head. “Not at all, Jim.” He reached down and undid the button and zipper of his khakis. He was wearing boxers beneath but wasn’t in a rush to strip down. It was more like he was giving his erection some breathing room.
I took the liberty of running my hand down his stomach and into the open crotch. The head of his cut prick was poking out of the boxer’s slit, very hard and very thick.
“Feels nice,” Stan hissed as I felt him up, gently stroking and brushing the tip of his cock with my fingertips. He seemed to be thinking as his hand reached out to feel the back of my neck and pull me back into a kiss.
This one was soft, softer than the last, but I could tell the man was getting worked up. I was getting worked up too, and I worried I’d be getting too impatient for a slow pace soon.
“Let me see your dick,” he finally urged, pulling back and looking down at my crotch. I let him unbutton my shorts, and soon the man was pulling them off over the obscene bulge I was sporting. I did the rest, by sliding the fingers under the band of my boxer briefs and peeling them down my waist and off my hips, finally letting my 8-inch dong swing free. My dick was heavy and fat and was firming up quickly to rock hard status.
“Fucking beautiful, Jim,” he growled. “You hard for your coach?”
God, we were going to go for it. A role play scene very much based in our reality. I nodded eagerly. “Yeah, Coach, I am,” I replied. Just saying those words made my dick grow more rigid and my balls pull up.
“You’re a big boy, all right,” Stan hissed as he reached down to feel me up, gripping my boner in his large hand and running his fist from the base of the shaft to the head and back. I moaned, looking down, watching him stroke me. His attention was rapt as he stared at my endowment. After a minute he looked up. “I know I’m not your Coach Weir,” he started, “but any chance you’d want to give me the treatment you’d give him?”
I don’t know why I didn’t expect that offer from this man, but I didn’t. I even had to make sure. “You want me to fuck you, Coach?” I asked.
He was getting so turned on, too, and his words cracked with desire. “I do, Jim.” He gripped my cock as if measuring its girth in his hand. “I have a married bud I fool around with, but he’s not hung like you,” he explained.
“I’ll go easy, Coach,” I assured him. Now that fucking was on the table, I wanted this so bad. “I’ll make you feel so good… I promise, sir.”
The man’s blue eyes practically twinkled as he looked up into mine. “Gonna teach this old dog some new tricks, huh, buddy?”
“Oh yeah,” I replied, enjoying the playful vibe we had going. Then, “let me see your ass, sir.”
The man nodded and started peeling down his khakis, then his boxers, tossing them aside like his polo shirt. He didn’t bother removing his dress socks and for some reason I found that hot… his big beefy and hairy body naked except for those socks, a thin gold necklace, his wedding band, and a stainless steel watch.
“I don’t have a body like yours,” he apologized before flipping over on his belly. “But you know what you got on your hands.”
I don’t know why the man was apologizing. That rump was magnificent. Not a bubble ass, but hard glute muscle, not as hairy as the rest of him, just a dusting of finer, dark fur toward the crack. I shifted to kneel above and behind his prone body. Once he parted his legs for me, my hands were on those buns, massaging them and pulling them apart just a bit to peek between.
“It’s fucking perfect, Coach,” I growled looking down at him. “Seriously.”
The man clearly worked out his lower body regularly. That ass brawn was as tension-tight as his shoulders and arms, and the hamstrings were fuller and better developed than a lot of men his age. My hands ran down the hairy leg muscle then back up to his ass.
I parted his buns and saw the lightly furred crevice. In the middle was a beautiful, dark-pink pucker. Not knotted tight but not loose either. I slid down prone onto my belly as well, my legs off the bed with my face over his ass as I pulled his cheeks apart even more. I let my fingers dip into his crack, my digits pulling and playing with his hole, watching it pucker and wink back at me. I leaned in, letting my breath blow over him for a split second before my tongue dove out and started licking.
“Oh goddamn, buddy,” Coach gasped at the sensation, his body trembling, his legs spreading a bit more as I nudged my face into his crack. I know he could hear my tongue and lips wetting him down as my tongue began flicking at his smooth entrance.
My hands gripped him harder, pulling him open as I started rimming him more intently, circling his ring with my tongue and darting against his sealed pucker. I had thought of doing this to Coach Weir, many times, but I was into this for the actual man lying face down in my bed, now raising his meaty upper body off the mattress and looking back at me.
“Hell, bud, you’re real into this aren’t ya?” he asked, almost amused, but mostly excited.
I pulled back and gave a light spit on his hole. “Fuck yes, I am,” I hissed. “Is that a problem?” I asked. I was getting too worked up and worried about not being on the same page as this guy.
“Not a problem at all,” he answered, turning to face forward. “I’m liking this more than I expected.”
I took a break from the rimming and ran my hands all along his body, over his ass and up his solid back. Like a lot of older men with his build, his back was even firmer than the front. I savored the curve of his round lat muscle before gliding my hands back down over his buns. “God, you’re so hot,” I grunted.
Coach turned his head back again and smiled. “You said that already,” he said.
“‘Cause it’s true,” I asserted, leaning up back onto my knees. I wiped the spittle from my chin and looked down, gripping the base of my raging erection, showing off the heft and weight of it as I gently bounced it in the air. “I’m so turned on,” I said softly.
Coach gulped as he took in my collegiate body and my full-sized dick. “You said you’d go easy, right?”
I nodded, giving his back and ass another quick caress. “Oh yeah. But I’m not done eating your ass… if you’re up for more.”
“Shit… yeah, I’m up for it, Jim.”
I got back down in ass-eating position. Coach hiked his ass back, spreading his buns a bit before I took those globes in my palms. His hole was framed with spit-soaked hairs matted to his crack. It puckered at me, and I went back to town. I alternated fast and slow, wide and deep. Coach seemed to get into it even more, hiking his ass back even more against my face as I growled into those meaty cheeks and held my mouth to his hole as my tongue dug into his insides. We were getting more animalistic and needy, and I loved it.
I don’t know how long I ate his hole, but it was a while. I finally pulled off and wiped my chin. “All right, Coach, on your back,” I urged, my bossy tone more playful than domineering.
As he flipped onto his back I expected a real nervousness from him, and I half waited for any hesitation to go through with the fuck. But instead, his thick cut tool, just shy of 6 inches, was rock hard and leaking as he pulled his powerful legs back to his chest.
No lectures to go slow this time, he just watched me with those sea blue eyes as I got some lube and flipped the cap, applying the gel to my fingers and then to his hole. He grunted softly as I penetrated his pucker with my index finger. Yeah, he wasn’t virgin tight, but I still needed to take it slow.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Stan muttered as I snuck another knuckle into him. God, he was hot, with his silvery-gray hair, his tanned face, and his hard pecs and shoulders.
I pulled out and then pushed a second finger in. “But you wanna, right, Coach?” Teasing him sexually but also feeling him out, to see where his mind was.
“Oh yeah,” Coach Thompson replied. “I want that dick bad.”
“Gotta work you open first, Coach,” I said, before slipping a third finger inside him. He was very tight against my fingers now, and he let out a hiss of air. “Easy, Stan,” I used his first name for a change. “I got you, man.”
He nodded, and I could see him will his big body to relax. I didn’t know the man, but at that moment, I felt like I could read him like a book. He’d dreamed of this, or something like this, for a long time. His prick never went soft throughout my preparation.
Even when I scooted up on my knees between his thighs, placed his sock-covered ankles on my shoulders, and pushed my cockhead against the snugness of his ass, his dick stayed rock hard.
I looked up and caught a flash of nervousness in Stan’s blue eyes, but also a lot more sexual need to get fucked. He nodded. I looked down at his glistening, hairy hole and nudged the head of my dick right up into him.
There was definite resistance, but also a deep need from the man. I pressed a little harder, and he opened up a little more. We both groaned as we both felt his ring dilate, opening up to take the fat head of my prick. Even though he was not a seasoned bottom, he was willing this to happen. I accommodated his effort by holding still, letting him get adjusted to a cock my size.
“You’re into your coach, aren’t ya, son?” he asked in lust. He may have been indulging my Coach Weir fantasy, or just acknowledging my clear excitement at tapping his ass.
“You don’t even know, sir,” I grunted as I felt that first inside inch of his ass clench rhythmically against my slicked up dick head.
“I got a pretty good idea, Jim,” he said, those dimples returning and those blue eyes looking up into mine. The man was 6’3″ as well and easily had twenty, thirty pounds on me, all thick older-man bulk beneath me. I held on to the outside of his legs and just enjoyed that position of being above him, entering him.
Then, all of a sudden I felt my dick run over the slickness inside his ass and the tightness gave way. I took advantage of the opportunity to push in deeper. I expected another knot of tightness a few inches inside him, but I found none. Instead, I sank all the way in, all 8 inches, down until my balls pressed against his muscled ass.
“Oh fuck, that’s hot,” came his tenor voice in his thick Virginia accent. A bit of disbelief in his face told me he was surprised to have taken me to the base.
I was almost hyperventilating now, it felt so good, unexpectedly good. It had been months since I’d had sex, and as fun as my New Years’ tryst was, a drunken hookup didn’t compare to this. Or maybe I’d just forgotten how good it was to fuck a hot man.
Coach Thompson’s guts started clenching again, not exactly fighting my invasion off, but I worried he would soon. I usually liked to savor the first thrust, but instead I slowly extracted my cock, just about half way before smoothly driving back into him. Stan’s face showed more pleasure, past that initial discomfort. I pumped into him again, controlled thrusts, not hard but with a gentle regular pace.
Coach lowered his legs off my shoulders, wrapping them around my waist as I bent down over him, catching my weight on my outstretched arms.
Stan nodded and reached up to feel my tensed up biceps and tris. “Fuck your Coach,” he urged.
I did, and I leaned in to kiss him while my hips pumped rhythmically into his snug coach hole. Being the same height, the angle of our mouths wasn’t easy so it was a quick but deep kiss. The action seemed to loosen him up, and I started fucking Coach Thompson harder. Firmer, steadier thrusts of my cock in and out of his now relaxing chute as my hips now slapped his brawny ass cheeks.
“Shit!” he gasped as I noticed his neck tighten. “I don’t know if I can last long, bud,” he huffed.
“You don’t gotta, Coach,” I grunted while still driving into the man with hard thrusts. With an impish grin, I reached down between us, and wrapped my lubed left hand around his thick 6-inch bone. Not quite as thick as the Admiral, but damn close. I didn’t have the habit of jerking a guy off while I fucked him and it took me a second to find the right rhythm. But the man let out a hiss and then a deeper grunt as I stroked him in time to my deep ass thrusts.
It took surprisingly little time to get the beefy man to cum. He didn’t speak but let out a whimper, short and surprised, right before his body shook in orgasm and his dick started pumping out a thick, pearly white load, over my fist and all over Coach’s meaty, silver-furred chest.
His orgams set off waves of tension through his chute, choking my cock mid fuck. “Oh fuck,” I cried, feeling my own ejaculation come on as I blasted deep inside this man, feeling his spasming slick guts milking me off.
He looked up at me, mid-orgasm still, urging me on to fuck him through my nut as his legs stayed tight around my wasit. My hips reacted with a mind of their own, with shallower, but still firm thrusts deep into his guts.
My cum lasted a half minute, it seemed, the kind of release that just kept coming. I lost the steadiness of my thrusts, and instead my cock jerked in and out of that coach hole in spasmodic jabs. Thankfully the guy could take it.
Still above him, I felt up his body and kissed him softly as I withdrew my softening and sated prick from his now loosened hole. The man reached up, his large hands cupping my younger face and pulled me down for a kiss. Something about Stan Thompson made me especially appreciative at that moment. I wouldn’t call it a romantic kiss – the man and I didn’t know a thing about each other – but it was sensual and tongue-filled, a contrast to the hard charging fuck we’d just shared.
I didn’t even mind the wetness forming between our bodies from the cum and the lube and the sweat from our sex. I just clung to that sweaty, hairy, beefy build and enjoyed how Stan held onto me with equal firmness as we kissed and then playfully rubbed noses.
“OK if I enjoy this for a few minutes?” he asked with adorable shyness as I rolled us onto our sides so that we were facing each other once more.
“Enjoy it all you like, Stan,” I said. “I love this part, too.” My hands reached down and around his waist, finally gripping his ass. I felt a need to run my fingers deeper in the crack to feel the wetness I left there.
“So it’s no longer ‘Coach’?” he asked with a wink as my fingers dipped into the still greased up cleft between his buns, rooting for his lubed and cum-filled hole.
I chuckled. “Enjoy it all you like, Coach,” I replied. “Seriously, I have no place to go.”
Stan raised his wrist and looked at his watch. “I have another hour, maybe hour and a half….” He paused as if to see if I was OK with that idea.
“You don’t get to have sex with another guy much, do you?” I observed.
Maybe I was being nosy or inappropriate, but the coach didn’t mind.
“I usually try to be a good boy,” he said. “Glad I wasn’t today.” He smirked back at me.
I felt a twinge at the reminder of his married status, but in reality I was too greedy not to enjoy being with him.
“I’m glad, too,” I said, gently cupping his hard ass cheek before relinquishing my grip and moving my hand up smoothly along his strong back. “And you had perfect timing. I’m going to be moving away in about a week.”
His blue eyes twinkled some. “Yeah, buddy? You just graduate?”
“Yep,” I grinned. “That might have been the best graduation gift I got,” I joked.
Stan chuckled. “Coach Thompson at your service.” He gave me a peck of a kiss. I was glad this man was as into kissing as he was. He was good at it. But more than that, his enthusiasm won me over. “So, Jim… what sport do you play?” His hands were on my upper body, groping the defined delts and bicep muscle of my batting arm, feeling up a body that was clearly an athlete’s.
“Baseball,” I answered.
“Should have guessed,” the coach said, appreciatively. “You’re incredible, man.”
“You, too,” I said, feeling my dick firm up against his own meaty cock.
Coach smiled as he felt my erection. “Getting hard again?” he chuckled.
“‘Fraid so,” I said. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize buddy. Hell, for a 52-year-old man, I’ll tell ya, that hardon is one hell of a compliment.”
I laughed and playfully rubbed my boner against his crotch.
Stan seemed into feeling me against him, but pulled back after a minute. “I hate to break the mood buddy, but I need to piss. Where’s your bathroom?”
“Down the hall on the right,” I said.
“You sure we got the place to ourselves?” the man asked as he stood up off the bed. His prick was thick but not erect. Coach was a show-er and that meat hung down at a decent size.
“I’m sure,” I said.
I sat up in my bed and put my hands behind my head as I watched this hunky coach strut out of my room. I still couldn’t believe I had been able to fuck him just now. I felt my dick stick up between my legs. It wasn’t an urgent hardon, and I mostly just enjoyed the free sexual feeling of that moment. I knew I’d probably jerk off a load after Stan left, but I wasn’t in a rush to get off a second time.
“Goddang,” the coach smiled as he returned and saw my hardon. His bulky body somehow looked bigger now as he stood in my doorway. I loved his meaty chest and silvery-furred torso and the way they contrasted with his kid-like enthusiasm. “Jim, you ever have shower sex?” he asked, a playful curiosity on his face.
I looked at his dick, which was growing fuller and was starting to rise. “I have,” I replied, remembering fucking Petty Officer Kevin in his tub before his deployment, and then Dad tongue-fucking my hole in the hotel shower in Cancun. Those memories were enough to make me rock hard again, but I didn’t need additional inspiration. Stan’s thick, older body was enough. “You up for that?” I had to admit I was surprised he was ready for another round.
The man nodded as his sea blue eyes swept up and down my naked form, locking on my reinvigorated hardon. “Looks like this is my last chance to get with you… I wanna make the most out of it. Whaddya say?” he asked, reaching down to slowly stroke his own thick meat.
It was my turn to act kid-like as I bounded off the bed, my hardon swaying in turn.
“You’re horny,” Stan said with a growl. “I love it.”
I winked and gave him a pat on his meaty back as I led him back down the hall. As we entered the bathroom, I pulled out an extra towel and then reached in to start the water.
I didn’t have a tiny shower, but between my build and Coach’s bulk, it felt like a tight fit, in the best way. Our wet, sudsy bodies bumped into one another and pressed together as we washed off the remnants of our first coupling. I loved the casual intimacy of this, Stan’s strong hands soaping up my torso, and me returning the favor. We kissed some, goofy grins on our faces as the room grew steamy.
“You like this, huh?” I asked, maybe surprised a man like this was so open in this sexual connection with me. I had met married men in the past who were mostly focused on just getting their rocks off.
“You have no idea, buddy,” Coach growled softly. He brushed his knuckles down my wet blond stomach hairs. Stan nodded down to his crotch, where that thick dick now stood upright from his hairy crotch.
Watching the water roll down this wide shaft, I wanted to suck him. So I rinsed the suds off my face and upper body then turned to switch to the other side of the shower. I crouched down onto my knees, and looking up at him, took a hold of his hips to pull him toward me. He got the picture, angling to let me have full access to his genitals. The man’s hands dropped to his side while my face moved in closer between his legs. I loved the shower-wet cleanliness, which gave him an almost neutral taste as I began licking his heavy nuts, that fur now matted down.
“That’s nice, Jim…. goddamn…” Coach hissed. He brought his hands to my head and ran his fingers through my damp hair as I made love to his balls and slowly made my way up his shaft. The man was thick, and I now remembered I had difficulty blowing him the first time. But I now had Holt’s blowjob lessons under my belt, and I was eager to see if that made a difference.
“Baseball jock gonna suck me?” Coach teased, a little shy like he was nervous he was being too aggressive with me. He reached back to turn off the water then looked back down on me.
“Yes, sir,” I replied. I pressed my lips against his fat shaft and moved up to plop that thick cut tool into my mouth. The man was thick, all right, and his cock stretched my lips as I worked to get my jaw around the shaft. I suckled at the first few inches, savoring the briny taste of his natural sap. Gaining a grasp of his thighs, I then started bobbing up and down on him, working the dick into an even firmer erection.
“Holy shit!” the man gasped as he gripped my wet hair.
I took his encouragement to go further. Knowing he didn’t have a formidable length gave me confidence to relax my jaw further. Stan looked on with awe as he watched more of his fat dick slide between my strained lips. He chuckled with a sexual groan as I know he now felt the head of his cock hit the edge of my throat. I started to enjoy the full sensation of his fat dick massaging the back of my gullet.
The man wasn’t super verbal, but I could tell he was very into this by his body response. His legs flexed and his abs clenched beneath the padding of his belly. An older man like this flipped my switch in the biggest way, and Coach Thompson was the lucky recipient of my worked up state.
“Oh damn, buddy… you better pull off soon…” he warned, his thighs trembling as his hands curled around my face to cup my jaw.
I would have gladly sucked him to completion, but I got the feeling he wanted this to last. That was fine by me. I gave one last deep throat stroke from my mouth then pulled back with a wet plop and a final kiss to his cockhead. I leaned back and enjoyed the view from below. The gentle swell of his belly and his rounded hairy pecs looked even more formidable, and I could see the knotted forearms matted down with wet hairs. Even his gold wedding band added to the vision.
I stood up, enjoying the wet warmth of his bulk against mine as our arms wrapped around each other and we met for another kiss. More fevered this time. As I felt up seemingly every inch of Coach’s body, both of the man’s hands were gripping my sudsed erection, feeling up my length and girth, all while he moaned into my mouth.
He was a little breathless when he broke the kiss. Maybe I was, too. There was a hunger and a naughty thrill in those blue eyes. The man took one last look at my face then turned to face the shower head. Greedily, he reached back and gripped my boner, almost pulling me to him by my cock, and guiding me in between his meaty cheek.
I didn’t need more of an invitation. I lathered up some soap and applied it to my erection, hoping that would be enough to ease the entry. Then I angled my hips down to line up, feeling the tip of my cock fall into the shallow divet of his just-fucked hole. I gripped his waist as he placed his hands against the tile wall, and I pressed in.
Stan sighed with pleasure and let his head fall back. The man’s hole was loosened up now, more than I expected even. I know that my previous load was lubing up my entry, but the penetration still felt marvelous. The soap and water had more friction than lube, but in a way, that just made the sensations up and down my cock feel even more incredible. I reached around and held on to Coach Thompson’s torso as I started fucking up into him steadily. All the way in.
“Dang, buddy… go for it…. make your Coach feel good,” Stan bellowed.
I pulled him back from the wall and pressed my chest against his back, maximizing our body contact as my hips slapped against this ass, giving all 8 inches with each firm thrust. I loved how this semi-roleplay was coming back so easily.
“Oh, Coach,” I growled against his neck, my lips pressing into the gold chain. Since his ass was now pressing back in gentle rhythm to my strokes, I wasn’t holding back but instead delivering an athletic fuck to a man 30 years older than me.
“Maybe I should have coached baseball… have a hot stud like you on my team….” he hissed in a fantasy sex talk that was taking me along for the ride as well. “Be your Coach Weir.”
That got a deep growl from me. God, I was gonna nut sooner than I anticipated at this rate. “You’re just as hot as Weir, Coach T,” I replied, holding onto his meaty body more tightly. “Just wanna fuck you.” My sex talk wasn’t inspired at that moment. I was just vocalizing the primal urge I was feeling.
“You are, kid,” Stan grunted with an urgent edge to his voice. He’d pumped some liquid soap into his palm and was now going to town on his thick tool, in time to my thrusts. He was getting close, and it was just a race to see which one of us was going to cum first.
“Fuck your coach,” the man ordered while grunting with each thrust from my prick.
That simple idea had me orgasming. It was so quick. My nuts knotted up as I raised up on the balls of my feet, burying my cock in Coach Thompson’s chute. I held tight to the man, to steady myself as my legs weakened and I gave it up, with deep pulses inside the man’s ass. I grunted into his neck as I felt my dick deposit a second load into his bowels, not as powerful, but just as deep.
“That’s is, Jim…” Stan grunted and stroked himself off to completion as his body tensed in my arms.
“Oh fuck,” he finally sighed as I felt his orgasm from the inside. “All right, buddy, you gotta pull out.”
“Yeah,” I said in an apologetic tone, gathering my strength to stand up right and pull back. After a second cum, my dick softened quickly and it plopped out of the man’s now well-fucked hole.
The man had a normal post-orgasm look on his face when he turned back to face me, like his regular brain was returning. “Gonna walk bow-legged for a while,” he said. “But it was worth it.”
I gave him a soft kiss. “Thank you, Coach. For real. That was incredible.”
The man didn’t respond in words but just gave a soft smirk that was contagious.
We were all business now, showering off to a clean state then drying off silently.
Back in my bedroom, I slipped on some gym shorts while he put his polo and khakis back on. As the man was tucking in, he looked at me with a friendly but more serious expression.
“I’m glad this happened, Jim,” he said softly.
“Me too, Coach,” I replied.
I walked him to the front door and we kissed one last time, softly.
“All right, I gotta go,” Stan said. “Take care, buddy.”
“You too, sir.”
* * *
Coach Thompson left my place around 7. I slipped back into my casual khaki shorts and a T-shirt, and my trusty Orioles ball cap. I looked around the place and considered doing some more packing, but at that point figured the rest could wait till morning. I decided to go out and get a beer and a bite, maybe catch a baseball game on TV.
Within ten minutes I was at my neighborhood sports bar. It was quiet inside, almost dead quiet, but there were a few folks in there, a couple in one of the high tops and a group of people who looked like grad students at one of the tables.
I sidled up to the bar and sat on one of the stools. I ordered a burger and a pint and asked the bartender if he could turn on one of the baseball games. The Orioles were out West that series and weren’t on, but I was happy watching any game. He flicked the channels, and soon I was watching the Astros-Nationals game.
This is where I’d met Ben Feldman, the grad student and my first crush. I had avoided the place for a while after that, but eventually I reclaimed it as my favorite spot to be alone. I thought of Ben and wondered what he was doing, where he was. It was weird how some people come back to your memories when you’re not expecting them to.
I thought of CSM Sean Carter, too. Wondering if he’d like a place like this. Nah, I finally decided. Probably too collegiate, and too quiet at that. I didn’t know the Soldier that well, just through our exchanged emails, but I got the sense he liked to let loose and party on his down time. I couldn’t blame him.
“Another?” the bartender asked as I neared the bottom of my pint glass.
I nodded. “Yeah, thanks,” I said. “Pretty quiet tonight, huh?” I asked when he came back with a nice, cold beer.
He gave a friendly nod. “Monday usually is, especially in the summer, but this is dead…. sucks for tips, but after last weekend, I’ll take the break.”
“Crazy in here?” I asked.
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” He patted the bar. “I’m Tim by the way, if you need anything.”
I held up my glass in acknowledgment and watched him go tend to a food order for one of the tables.
I turned my attention back to the TV. The Astros’ batting was really picking up in the 6th.
I did a little people-watching of the sparse crowd. I did a lot of reflecting about my college years and about what my future had in store. For all I knew, I’d be going pro soon enough and having to keep my personal life even more under wraps. I thought about the sex I’d just had with the Coach, how satisfying it was and how I’d very likely never see the man again. It was a pattern for me, I suppose, but I wasn’t in the mood to beat myself up for it.
I looked around the bar, feeling content and more than a little contemplative.
I’d miss this place.
END OF PART V
(to be continued in PART VI)