READING RAINBOW: “Mason’s Morning” by D One

D One (via Nifty Archive):

He couldn’t believe how long it took to recover. It had been years since Mason discovered the joy of masturbation. Each time varied of course.
Sometimes it was just quick relief and other times it took awhile needing him to conjure images that would build up. At first the mixture of images surprised and confused him. Speedo wearing divers, body tight singlet wearing wrestlers and memories of naked male classmates seemed to dominate his thinking.

“Hell did you see Jada’s headlights?” his friend Arnie would evaluate girls’ chests at school all the time. Jada did indeed have larger breasts then before, but thoughts of that didn’t burn in his gut like the sight of the monster cock he saw one day when going into the Coach’s office unannounced. Coach Anthony was actually the Asst. Coach of the wrestling squad and teacher for Phys Ed. Mental images of the tall, light brown hair, tanned and hairy chest man got created a fire in Mason’s belly. He stood there naked when Mason went in. The man didn’t try to hide his male glands and he wasn’t angry.

“What’s up Mas?” he casually asked without reaching for a towel or clothes.

“I uh sorry Coach, was looking for…” Mason stammered “I’ll come back” and he left the room with the mental imprint of the naked man who didn’t have a tan line and had a cock that seemed to hang to his knees.

As Mason thought about the things he should have said or done, his body quivered. He should have knelt and taken the huge cock in his hands, kissing and licking its length while pledging his promise to do whatever the man wanted. He would lift the cock and lick it’s underside to the hairy ball sack the man displayed. When it was hard he would put it in his mouth though only the cock-head would fit. His tongue would swirl around it until the man unloaded the nectar from inside his body down Mason’s throat.

He would let the man’s hands move under his armpits to lift him up and guide him to the massage table, bending him over. Mason would grasp the
other side bracing for the impalement he knew was about to occur. As it stretched his flesh and muscles, Mason would plea to go slowly then
feel the thickness indeed creep slowly into and up his insides. It was sharp pain yet wonderful feeling.

The strong hands would grip his buttocks as the monster inside him moved back and forth, in and out, changing him into the man’s bitch. He wanted to be it, he was already that in his body and soul, now he was indeed the property of Coach Anthony, his mouth, his hands, his tight ass to use however, wherever and whenever he wanted.

Mason jammed his fingers inside him. He did that sometimes to add
sensations to each jack off session. His fingers were coated with the
white grease he stole from the drug store. Deeper and deeper they
went…far deeper then ever before.

His fingers needed to leave his cock and pull on his smooth chest skin and
nipples sending new shockwaves through his body. Another hand was needed,
but he didn’t want to pull out of his butt… leaving his erect tingling
nipples, his hand flipped his balls and returned to his own stalk.

Collins always hung around him naked in the locker room after class and
practice. He seemed to know Mason wanted to reach for him and experience
jacking another guy off. If they were chosen to wrestle Collins always
managed to get his arm between Mason’s legs and rub. It was a distracting
tactic for wrestlers to surprise their foe. Mason wanted it to mean more.

Coach Anthony was gone from his head. Collin’s cock arched upward hard,
begging, leaking and urging Mason to turn his head and lick the droplets
that dripped form its piss slit.

Arnie and he were wrestling in the field now. His friend and he never
hesitated to play grab ass, encircle each others bodies with their arms
feeling each others strength while pulling each other to the ground. Legs
intertwined then moved to grab the others hips. And finally Mason was
pinned looking up at the grinning laughing buddy above him, his suddenly
bare chest looming over him. Mason wanted to lift his head and lick the
smooth chest.

They wrestled often, outside, in each other’s bedrooms, sometimes wearing
only their jockeys, other times clothed, now they were naked, their cocks
hard revealing things they never talked about. Mason’s legs were pinned
over his shoulders as Arnie’s cock got closer threatening him, wanting him
and finally invading him.

The orgasm hurt. The sperm burned the tip of his penis as splatters,
streams and spurts went into the air landing in droplets and lines of
wetness on his bare body.

It was too soon. Mason wanted more. He had enjoyed the images, memories and
fantasies. His hand withdrew leaving a sore pleasure. His hand was icky
with the cream and his own cum.

He lay there catching his breath watching the summer’s morning light
outside his window. The image of Coach Anthony naked,
looking like one of the photos he had seen on the Internet lasted and
slowly faded away.

Mason hoped he could recover and start an attempt to feel the burning
desire again, prompting images and stirring his body to desire all he
wished were real.

He should arise and walk naked to the bathroom to get a towel and clean
himself. Nobody was home. His sister was in camp and parents were at
work. There were no classes, locker room sights or wrestling practice to
attend, only the memories in his head.

He could jack off all day long.

“Hey stud, what’s up?” Arnie was there. “I see what you’ve been up to” he
was smiling and half naked.

“Shit” Mason said disappointed he wouldn’t be alone to work in another
orgasm.

“Mind if I join you?” Arnie had already unbuttoned his shorts, letting them
drop to the floor. He dove onto Mason’s bed.

“Shit man I’m all messy” Mason said.

“Yea I noticed” his hand reached for and held Mason’s cock. “Looks like you
been jacking all morning”.

“Quit it” Mason said as their naked wrestling match began. Perhaps this
time, it would end the way he fantasized. Mason was willing, his tongue,
nipples, cock, balls and ass were ready for whatever Arnie wanted, perhaps
fantasized about when he too lay in his bed masturbating.