Charlie is a football player on the road with his college team when he stumbles across a notorious cruising spot, where his coach shows him the ropes… Coach Thickman introduces Charlie to an exciting world of man-on-man truck stop action!
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Charlie Smitkowski nervously got out of the van and stretched in the truck stop parking lot. His teammates all seemed so confident, but he didn’t know how they could be. He certainly didn’t feel confident here. He never did.
For one thing, he was nervous he would get hard in the shower. Thinking about it did give him a stiffy, or at least it made his dick twitch like it might get stiff. Maybe that wasn’t a reasonable fear — he had never gotten hard in the group shower back in the GHU athletic building. But he would be nervous here, naked among strangers instead of his teammates.
The GHU football team scattered towards the showerhouse. Charlie gulped. He was glad to be out of the van, which stank of his teammates’s sweat. They had spent the last three hours in the van.
There were only two universities in Wyoming with football fields, so Charlie and his teammates made this day and a half voyage by van often, every time they played the other team. They always stayed in a hotel halfway there, but that hotel — the only option for many miles around — had little to no hot water. They claimed they did, but the showers either didn’t work, didn’t spray hot water or sprayed only brown, muddy water.
So no one ever showered there at the motel. They stopped at the Tophaul Truck Stop to shower instead.
But it wasn’t just his team. Old men showered there, rednecks, black men, bikers, old men, Latinos with tattoos and bullet wounds — it was scary. This was a rural area, but one that was right off a highway with a lot of truck traffic. The truck stop was busy even out here in the middle of nowhere.
But Charlie felt compelled not to let on that he was scared. He didn’t want to be the only one on the team who felt that way. He’d look like the biggest pussy in the world. None of the other players seemed nervous about it. They were all nonchalant, like they showered with dozens of naked strangers every day.
So he hung back. He tried to steel his nerves. He went into the showerhouse after his teammates, thinking he’d feel more comfortable that way.
A fat cock sat stared at him. Charlie backed out in a panic. There was a man changing in there, a naked white man with a shaved head and a vaguely nazi look, his huge white dick dangling just a few feet from the door. He made a kissy face at Charlie, who turned tail as he heard the man laugh.
Not wanting to look frightened, Charlie went to the vending machines. He made it look like he simply decided to drink a bottle of iced tea before going in the showerhouse.
He wondered if he could get away with not showering. It’s not like anyone was watching to make sure. He didn’t think he stank, and he hadn’t been sweating very much. He could shower in Cheyenne anyway — he never really got why they bothered showering here in the truck stop, when they’d all go straight to the visitors’s locker room in Cheyenne as soon as they got there. It was just instinct and habit, he guessed, that made his teammates shower in the morning. Nobody wanted to be the stinkbutt who didn’t shower, and nobody wanted to look like a squeamish punk unwilling to get naked in front of other men.
He hurried around the back of the showerhouse, hoping to relax out of view for a moment. The woods behind the truck stop were dense with foliage, so Charlie couldn’t see more than a few feet away. There was a patch of no-man’s-land between the showerhouse and the highway, which was where Charlie headed.
A path was there, blocked by shrubbery so it wasn’t visible until Charlie was in that patch of scrubby forest. It wasn’t a marked path, just a beaten route in the dirt. Charlie took a few steps down it, curious why there was a trail out here.
“Hmmm-hmm…” That was Coach Thickman’s voice.
Charlie gulped. He crept closer. When he got around a tree, he saw Coach Thickman — a hefty, broad-chested black man with a scruffy beard and a shaved head — with his pants around his ankles. He held onto the scalp of a thin white man as he rammed his dick into the man’s throat.
Charlie gasped. He wanted to run away, he felt an instinctual need to leave.
But he also couldn’t quite bear to stop watching. He wanted to see what happened. His eyes opened wide. He had never seen anything like this.
Coach Thickman looked confident — he always did, he was swaggerous, dominant, tough. He had a powerful body, thick as anything, with a hairy chest for a black man. He taught “industrial arts” and coached the basketball team. He often came out on football team trips too, which he said was because he wanted to support them but probably was because he could use the overtime. He had a cocky strut that Charlie had always found exciting, exhilirating, even arousing.
That was how Charlie wished he could carry himself. Coach Thickman’s heavy balls slapped against the man’s chin as he humped his cock down the man’s throat. Thickman let out a little bristly moan too, and he murmured some soft nothings as he pounded away.
The white man swallowing Coach’s cock was Avery, the team manager and a junior at the college. He came here frequently to cruise, so it was a happy coincidence that the team would be here too.
They were mostly truckers, Southern men with huge cocks and musky bodies. Avery would lick them clean like a cat if they let him. Coach Thickman’s foot-long cock throbbed veinily in Avery’s mouth. The sour-salty flavor of precum coated his tongue and throat, as he swallowed every inch of that massive shaft.
“Hmmm… Come on, open up,” Coach Thickman murmured. He used both hands to keep Avery’s head in place. He didn’t pound into Avery’s throat violently. He focused on grinding his dick deeply in Avery’s gullet, continuing even when he felt resistance and gagging. Thickman knew well how to throat a man down, and Avery was an expert in accepting massive alpha male cocks.
Intense pleasure rocketed through his body. A part of Coach Thickman thought he was being watched, but he ignored that feeling — he didn’t mind, for one thing, he liked putting on a little show. He wondered if any of the football players were watching, he hoped so.
“Swallow that shit, boy…” Coach Thickman said with a grunt.
He sprayed his wad deeply into Avery’s body, coating his belly and filling it with his creamy seed. It was hot and thick, and it seeped into Avery’s flesh from his stomach. Spasms of pleasure rocketed up Thickman’s body, and his muscles all rippled at once. A throaty groan came out of him.
His muscles were so powerful, so thick, so firm — or so they looked. Charlie had to fight the urge to show himself and grope Coach Thickman. Sweat clung to the curves of his biceps, and it glistened off his skin in the dim light. Charlie murmured to himself and licked his lips, his hand in his pants playing with his own throbbing erection.
“Hmm-hmm, take it, swallow it, damn…”
Thickman’s fat cock kept going, pulsating in Avery’s throat. Avery choked up a big wad of white precum that dripped down his chin and landed on the forest floor. Avery gurgled merrily, slurping on Coach Thickman’s limpening dick and taking in every drop he could.
Finally he was done. “Damn, boy…” Coach Thickman took his dick out and tucked it away in his track pants. His last few drops of jizz were soaked up by the fabric of his pants, which made a small wet spot in his crotch. Thickman either didn’t notice or didn’t care.”We got another away game in two weekends. You gonna drive the van for us?”
“Maybe,” Avery said with a smile, his hands moving up Thickman’s body under his shirt, to grope up his muscles. “I’ll have to check my calendar.”
They kept talking, but Charlie darted away. He didn’t want to get caught watching. That would be embarrassing, especially since he realized only just now that he had been jacking off. He had shot his own wad onto the ground. It felt so good and so natural he didn’t notice until he was orgasming, and now his dick was so sensitive it hurt.
Did they know he had done that? Would anyone be able to tell? Charlie was in a panic as he fled back to the bus.
Luckily, everyone just assumed Charlie had taken a shower, and no one asked. He snuck a sniff of his pits, which didn’t smell too strongly of sweat. Charlie assumed he hadn’t been seen because no one ever mentioned it.
But Avery had seen. He knew better than to acknowledge it though, because he thought he could still land a taste of Charlie’s meat if he waited for the right moment. Charlie Smitkowski was one of the athletes at GHU Avery most craved.
Avery hung out behind the truck stop waiting for that van of football jocks to return. He got a few truckers in the two weeks he waited, but no one as handsome as Coach Thickman. That was expected. They couldn’t all be winners.
Still, he waited. This would pay off soon, he was sure, and he had little else to do as his classes were almost done for the semester. He was just studying for the finals at this point.
He heard the van pull up while Avery finished a bottle of water at a picnic table near the showerhouse. It had been a slow day, unseasonably hot and humid as could be. He went to the air conditioner, where he could stand and peer into a window into the shower and the whirr of the compressor meant Avery didn’t have to worry about making noise. That position gave him a good look into the shower, and he could see out front if Coach Thickman was heading back here.
A muscular blond jock was flopping his dick between his fingers as he soaped himself up. Avery watched the shower water run over his plump ass as he shook his cock — he seemed to be making a point about how big or high-quality his cock was, or maybe he was just trying to get attention. But out of the corner of his eye, Avery saw that Charlie Smitkowski meander casually behind the showerhouse. He went around the other side of the building, so he didn’t see Avery at the air conditioner.
As soon as he saw Charlie, Avery hurried away from the air conditioner and darted behind a tree. He pretended to be waiting there when Charlie nervously approached.
“Hey,” Avery said.
“Hi.” Charlie was tense, lips pursed together. He didn’t know what brought him here, except that he thought that Avery would probably be here again, and he had made sure to beat Coach Thickman here. Charlie figured that he’d have some privacy if he was first.
Avery didn’t say anything else. He just dropped to his knees and pulled Charlie’s dick out through the fly of his jeans.
His dick disappeared into the man’s mouth, and Charlie let out a nervous whimper. Pleasure shot up his spine. It felt good, better than anything he had ever done. He wondered if this man was that good, or if he had simply never been with a good woman.
His dick rocketed to full erection. Charlie moaned and licked his lips. He could feel an orgasm already rising up within him, and he was worried he’d cum quickly and look like a loser.
“Howdy, son,” Coach Thickman’s baritone voice boomed and echoed in Charlie’s mind.
Charlie winced and turned around just in time to get a face full of Coach Thickman’s bare chest. He was in his boxers and shower sandals, his hefty chest shaking as he came closer. His dick was already poking out through the fly of his shorts.
“Oh, uh! Hi! Coach Thickman! Hi! I-“
“Hush, boy,” Coach Thickman said with a low, throaty murmur. He stood next to Charlie, so close their asscheeks pressed against each other. Charlie felt small and weak. Coach Thickman’s heavy arm draped over Charlie’s shoulders, and his armpit hair rubbed against Charlie’s bicep.
That was enough to keep Charlie from cumming too quickly. He was too nervous to do anything more than try not to smell Coach Thickman’s armpit — which didn’t smell bad, since he had just showered moments ago, it smelled like deodorant, but it was intense and warm and Charlie felt like less of a man every time he caught a whiff.
Their dicks touched. Charlie gulped. He looked around as though considering fleeing — the thought did cross his mind, but he wouldn’t want to blue-ball himself like that. He could do this. It was so exciting his heart raced, he felt like he’d never really been alive before this moment.
His pale tan cock smushed up against Coach Thickman’s. Charlie was glad to see that they were the same size — he would have felt inadequate if his dick was small. Avery could tease both cocktips at once, slurping down the precum that flowed from both piss-slits.
He tongued both shafts and licked all four balls in turn. Avery enjoyed dragging this out because he liked the sight of both men feeling each other up. It was Coach Thickman mainly, whose arms flexed as he moved, thick muscles caressing Charlie’s smoother chest.
But Charlie couldn’t quite stay still either. He jumped back and forth on his feet. Every time a shiver of pleasure shot through him he blushed and quivered a little more.
Charlie saw Coach Thickman’s mouth coming and could have moved his head away. It was obvious they were about to kiss.
A part of him wanted to be kissed. For just a moment, he allowed himself to feel desire for the mature football coach with the grizzled beard. Charlie gulped.
“Ah-!” Charlie’s gasp of surprise was cut off by Coach Thickman kissing him on the lips. Their tongues collided in Charlie’s mouth, while Charlie lost himself in his coach’s arms.
He didn’t know how long that lasted. It felt like forever. Coach Thickman noisily kissed him, slobbering over his lips and cheeks and neck. He even left a hickey that Charlie would later have to claim was from a girl last night (luckily, the others all believed him).
They were still kissing as they both orgasmed at once. Avery slurped on both cocks the best he could, slathering both dicktips with his spit. He used one hand on each shaft too. He loved being double-teamed in the mouth, especially by men whose dicks instinctively fought with each other for space in his mouth.
Creamy cum coated his tongue and ran down his throat. It was salty and warm, with two distinct flavors — one bright and sunny, the other fragrant and spiced — Avery couldn’t decide which one came from which. He guzzled down every drop, continuing to lick both piss-slits even as both men’s muscles twitched.
“Goddamn!” Charlie sounded like he might cry, he was so impassioned and stressed. He wiggled in Coach Thickman’s arms.
“Shit yeah,” Coach Thickman said. He finally let go and stepped away. He took a deep breath, laughed and smacked Charlie’s asscheek. “Good job, son.”
“Uh, thanks.” Charlie’s face was red, and he took a deep breath. He tried to look nonchalant.
“You boys have a good game,” Avery said. He stood up and stretched his legs. “But you better move on. I want to get going before too late.”
Charlie was glad to go. He was glad for the unspoken rules of man-on-man action — Coach Thickman didn’t need to tell him that this was a don’t-ask-don’t-tell kind of scenario. Coach Thickman would never mention it, and Charlie would try hard not to think about it.
It was hard not to think about it though, over the next few weeks as Charlie prepared for the state championship that would bring him back to that same truck-stop once more.
That had felt so good he could scream, and he needed to feel that way again. He even considered driving down there once in the middle of the night — if he hadn’t needed to borrow a car, he probably would have done it.
Of course, Avery probably wouldn’t be there at three o’clock in the morning anyway, Charlie told himself. Charlie had never told anyone what happened. He and Coach Thickman looked at each other and shared wry, awkward grins, but Charlie didn’t think there was any way that anyone else would find out.
He went to the truck stop one more time. Charlie told himself that this would be it — the last time the team went came to this truck stop this year. Hopefully next year he wouldn’t be doing anything like this. Maybe he’d even have a girlfriend by then.
He hung back while the rest of the team hurried into the shower, while Charlie snuck around back. He arrived in the woods behind the truck stop shower, where he turned around a tree and ran into Coach Thickman.
“Charlie, my boy.” Coach Thickman crossed his arms over his big black chest. He was hairy, with an amateur bodybuilder’s body, which made Charlie nervous — last time, Coach Thickman’s body hadn’t been as hairy because he’d shaved his chest recently. But now Charlie felt even weaker and younger than ever. Thickman glared at him and placed one heavy hand on Charlie’s shoulder.
“Coach Thickman! I was just back here, uh, to… to see, y’know, what-“
“Hush, boy,” Coach Thickman said. “I know exactly why you was back here.”
“Yes, sir.”
Then, in one smooth motion, Coach Thickman lowered his head and planted his lips right on Charlie’s. At first, Charlie had an urge to push away and make him stop, the same urge he’d had before when they got their dicks wet at the same time.
But then Charlie realized he wanted it. He wasn’t scared — a little nervous, but not scared — and he wanted this to happen more than anything. He didn’t mind that Avery wasn’t here.
He wanted to taste Coach Thickman.
Coach’s arms wrapped around Charlie’s body, holding him close as they kissed. Coach Thickman stroked his smooth back and shoulders, making Charlie quiver in excitement.
“What.. was that?,” Charlie said, his voice wavery and plaintive.
“Hush. That ain’t the issue at hand, boy,” Coach Thickman said. “We gotta get down to business, and that business is makin’ love. We gonna brew up a big pot of lust, boy. Ya feel me?”
“Yes, Coach.” Charlie shook as he sunk to his knees. He couldn’t believe he was really doing this. He opened his mouth and it filled immediately with Coach’s throbbing black cock. It was thick and veiny, and it tasted both bad and good at once — it was musty and fresh, sweet and sour, salty and watery, creamy and thick, all at once, and it made Charlie want to taste even more of it.
He opened his mouth wide, letting Coach Thickman drill his dick down his throat. Charlie stroked himself off as he took it. His throat gradually loosened until finally he felt that entire massive rod invading his throat with each thrust of Coach’s hips.
It felt so right. Charlie was right where he wanted to be, and his anxiety vanished; he was no longer worried about being caught, or about being teased, or about Coach Thickman thinking him less of a man. All Charlie wanted to do was swallow down every inch of his mean and every drop of his cumload.
“Alright, if you ready, bend over, boy,” Coach Thickman said, murmuring softly. He pulled his dick out and gently guided Charlie into position.
At first, Charlie didn’t know if he wanted to do this. He hadn’t really thought about taking it in the ass. Was this how people normally did that the first time? He didn’t know. He wanted to come up with reasons not to do it, but his mind couldn’t come up with any.
The only downside, he thought, was that it would hurt the first time, or so he assumed. When he felt his ass stretch, however, the pain was not bad at all. Coach Thickman’s cock was lubed up with spit (and a little actual lube that Coach Thickman had brought for precisely this sort of occurrence).
“Oh god!” Charlie gritted his teeth. There was potent pressure, like he needed to shit but couldn’t. That sensation only gradually loosened as he felt more and more dickmeat cram into his tight hole.
He wasn’t sure he could keep doing this. The feelings were so powerful he couldn’t even speak. All he could do was wrench his head and let out a meek, wordless howl that made Coach Thickman chuckle. His dick twitched in Charlie’s ass.
“I’m all the way in ya now, boy,” Coach Thickman said with a grunt. He smacked Charlie’s cheek, sending a shiver of pleasure through his body. “We’s makin’ love.”
“Oooooh….” Charlie’s voice broke. He tried to stroke himself off, but he couldn’t focus enough. His asshole and prostate commanded all of his attention.
He didn’t need to jack himself off though. As Coach Thickman slammed into him, his hands roamed over Charlie’s body and soon reached around to his cock.
With Charlie on all fours, Coach Thickman gave him a reacharound. He slammed his dick in with all the power he could muster — that was why Thickman cornholed men so much, they didn’t complain when you rammed it in, not like women did — until his balls made a pleasing thwack sound every time they slapped against Charlie’s body.
“Alright, boy, we gonna blow our nut in a minute,” Coach Thickman said, showering Charlie’s tense face and neck with kisses. His deep gravelly voice resonated in Charlie’s ear. “Ya hear me? You might feel all kinda bad feelin’s afterwards. You might start thinkin’ you you less of a man. Don’t think none of those things. What we doin’ here ain’t no thing, ain’t nothin’ you gotta ever think about again.”
“Yes, Coach,” Charlie’s voice was tense and pinched. He moaned as his cock throbbed an orgasm erupted inside him.
“This is just lust. We just actin’ on feelings, and we ain’t gotta think ’bout that lust again, not till those feelings appear once more. Ya feel me?”
“Yes, Coach.”
Cum sprayed into Charlie’s ass, great big gobs of it that coated his insides and seeped through his belly. Charlie was so focused on that pleasure deep within him that he barely noticed his own orgasm or the jets of cum he shot onto the ground and Coach Thickman’s wrist.
They kept going. Charlie was nearly totally limp, unable to process the potent pleasure wracking his body, but Coach Thickman didn’t slow down at all. He kept slamming his cock in and out of Charlie’s ass, making a big frothy mess of cum that formed a puddle on the ground.
At last he was done. Charlie’s mind reeled as he collapsed and Coach Thickman pulled out.
“Ah, shit, shit,” Charlie said with a grunt. He tried to stand but his knees were weak. Coach Thickman helped him up.
“You alright, boy?”
“Fine.” Charlie blushed. “Good. Cool. Fine.”
“Shush. C’mon, boy, we gotta go take a shower. Remember, ain’t nothin’ happened. If anyone asks, we came back here to share a cigarette we ain’t want the others to see us smoke,” Coach Thickman said. “You ready?”
“Yeah. I’m ready,” Charlie said. “Next time we have an away game-“
“Hush, boy. We’ll worry about that the next time I see you back here.”