Coach gave a slight humming sound, looking over the paperwork on his desk. The chair you sat at creaked slightly, the otherwise silence broken by the other man writing down some strategies, a blue pen streaking across the paper. His office was large and cold as ever, a few fluorescent lights flickering overhead, casting the old trophies, photographs and whatever else lined along the walls appear and disappear with it.
Coach rubs his face a few times, his tell when he’s frustrated about something, placing his feet up on his desk. “Appreciate you sticking around after practice, you’re off work tomorrow right?” You nod your head, feeling the sleep in your eyes before saying something about being off for the weekend. Coach nods his head, and after a few more notes stands up. “Gonna take these off, too tight.”
Coach proceeds to strip off his shorts, leaving him just in a white, old jockstrap, his bare ass and thighs in full view, his crotch only barely hidden behind the breathable fabric. Your breath hitches in your throat, trying your best not to stare, much less say anything, thankful the flush in your cheeks was hidden by the old, crappy lighting in his office.
“What, you haven’t seen a guy wearing a jockstrap before? You must not be looking at the others in the locker room.” He chuckled, letting his feet rest on his desk and spread apart. The jock looked like it hadn’t been washed, dingy from dirt and sweat. You try to focus, but the thought of putting your nose right in it, resting between his big legs, maybe his hand nuzzling your hair and saying what a good job you’re doing…
You hear your name called, snapping back to attention. Coach sits there, in the same pose as before, a hand resting on his waistband. Was it that obvious why you where distracted? The other man chuckles at you, adjusting himself one more time and letting the elastic slap against his body, causing a slight ripple in his belly. That really wasn’t helping.
“Sorry, haven’t washed this in a while. I like wearing this one when I need some good luck, you know?” Coach smiles, standing up from his chair, thumbs looping around the band and slowly lowering it, now naked from the waist down as he inspects the jockstrap, as if trying to scry some magical property from it. “Wore this last time we won nationals, always seems to work well.”
Coach continues to speak about the win, about the team from over a decade ago, but whatever focus you managed to gather was long gone. His cock was out, waving less than a foot away from your face, beautifully framed by his fat pad, and thick thighs looking like they need to be rubbed down and worshipped more than anything. The other man notices you’re staring, coughing and putting back on his jockstrap to be somewhat more decent.
“Hey, how about this – We’ll talk about this stuff back at my place, and I can make you some dinner. Sound good?”
You nod your head, face flushed. Why not?
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