Samesex/hssex
                                          High School Sex
                  They didn't seem a likely pair, these two high school boymen who
                     were giving each other pleasure on the locker room bench.
                 It was after 6 PM, and they had sneaked in to steal their furtive
                moments of pleasure.  When they were done, they would sneak out, act
                 like their straight friends and stay hard until they were able to
                                            do it again.
                  It was the second time they had met, and they had not become too
                    adventuresome, not even approaching the fantasies that their
                     minds had been turning over since they each learned (years
                 before) that thinking about boys made them harder and feel better
                  than thinking about girls ever could.  When they were sure that
                   they were alone, they embraced one another and were once again
                   struck by how right their mouths felt, and they wrestled with
                  their tongues kissing eyes, cheeks, lips, neck and thus inflamed
                 their passion.  The two athletes were now breathing as heavily as
                   during any workout and were straining against their jocks and
                                           sweat shorts.
                  The only light was from the sunset outside that entered from the
                    high windows above.  There was a misty quality to the orange
                    twilight, leftover from the parade of sweaty bodies that had
                  showered there earlier.  The only sounds would be the echoes of
                  their groans and words of pleasure.  They sat down, face to face
                 on a locker room bench.  Thankfully it was bolted to the floor so
                  it could stand their violent movements. Between continued mouth
                   work and crotch rubbing ("Oh, fuck!  That feels great, Tim."),
                   they pulled off each other's shirts and licked off a layer of
                 perspiration while exploring each other pecs, pits, and abdomens.
                  These boys were true specimens of youth. Tim was definitely the
                    finer of the two, with varsity letters in both football and
                    baseball.  6'1", 180 lbs., brown straight hair, brown eyes,
                  beautifully proportioned.  His fascination for guys had made him
                    shy (how else could he not be out fucking the cheerleaders?)
                 Chris was a basketball player, 6'4", 170 lbs. ("cute, but..." the
                  girls said).  He was no Tim, but right now, charged with sexual
                      passion, the two appeared equals.  As for the girls who
                  overlooked him, Chris, in his current position, would have been
                                       the envy of them all.
                    Their upper bodies were smooth for the most part, save for a
                 trace of hair that led its way down to their crotches, a road map
                  to the grand prize.  They interlocked their legs and in a tight
                   embrace humped their crotches together grinding and groaning,
                 echoing loudly in the otherwise empty locker room.  Tim broke the
                   embrace and grabbed Chris' knees and slide him away from him.
                 "I'm hungry Chris," Tim said in an almost trance like state.  Tim
                    then grabbed the waistband of Chris' sweat shorts and slowly
                  pulled them down the basketball players long legs, pulling them
                    over his shoes and tossing the shorts aside. Tim then pulled
                   Chris halfway back towards him, reached forward and liberated
                   Chris' long, thin (like Chris) dick from the jock, pushing the
                 constraining pouch to one side. (For some reason, they both liked
                        to keep their jocks and shoes on when getting off.)
                  When Tim touched the base of Chris' dick and fondled his already
                 tight balls, Chris gasped as a large flow of pre-cum made its way
                 out of his dick slit and dribbled down the underside of his dick.
                   Tim felt a surge of pre-cum in his own dick but wanted to keep
                 his meat constrained for the time being.  "Dinner time," said Tim
                  laughing as he lapped up the bead of pre-cum and licked his way
                    up Chris' ever-harder prick. Chris was almost in heaven and
                        leaned back and closed his eyes as Tim went to work.
                 Tim slicked up Chris' dick and ball sac with a generous amount of
                  saliva and alternated between steady long mouth strokes and then
                  gently sucking one then the other of Chris' steamy balls.  When
                   Tim grabbed the base of Chris' cock and started playing major
                       head games on Chris' purple helmet, Chris stopped him.
                  "I love what your doing, man.  But I want us to shoot together."
                  With that said and a long kiss, Chris began reciprocating.  When
                    he pulled down Tim's shorts, it looked like Tim had creamed
                  already. There was a huge wet spot where the elastic band of his
                   jock met the pouch, and when Chris pulled the elastic back, a
                  thousand ribbons of pre-cum formed between the fabric and Tim's
                 hairy crotch.  Chris was in love with Tim's balls.  They were big
                  and firm, hotter than any he had seen in any magazine.  Tim put
                  the wide elastic of the jock underneath Tim's balls and started
                 his slavish devotion.  Tim liked his own balls too, and sometimes
                        would make himself cum simply by playing with them.
                    Chris moved up to the thick prick that topped those gorgeous
                   balls and had a suckfest of his own, coaxing up more and more
                   pre-cum that he would in turn wipe all over his face.  Tim was
                        getting close and the time for release was at hand.
                  As they had done on their first meeting, they locked their legs
                  together and started jerking each other off forcefully.  Dick to
                   dick, fist to fist, they were like one unit of sexual energy.
                  They were wet with sweat.  Their crotches were pools of pre-cum,
                    sweat and saliva.  Chris started first, with Tim shooting a
                  millisecond behind.  Their young balls churned out ropes of cum:
                 Tim's first two spasms splashed the underside of his chin; an arc
                   of Chris' cum filled a little pool above his collar bone.  The
                    remaining spasms coated their chests, stomachs and crotches.
                  When they were both spent, they again embraced tightly and their
                    cum commingled in their embrace and the sweet smell of their
                                  passion rose to their nostrils.
                    As they kissed, Chris and Tim were happy.  Together they had
                  found fulfillment. Next time, perhaps they would move on further
                  into unexplored territory.  Chris had awakened the night before,
                   cumming, in a dream of eating out Tim's ass. Tim had similarly
                    dreamed of Chris sitting on his dick.  But that was for next
                                               time.
                  Tim now stood up and stretched.  He took his cum-soaked jock off
                   and used it as a cloth to wipe down his hot body.  He wouldn't
                    wash it. Later, one whiff and he would be in ecstasy.  Chris
                  cleaned up in a similar fashion.  These boys were whipped!  They
                   bent down and took off their shoes and turned to head for the
                     showers.  After their first liaison, the shower they took
                 afterward, though only made up of soapy massage and warm embrace,
                        was almost as powerful as the sex they had enjoyed.
                  Coach Miller was standing about six feet away when they saw him.
                 Needless to say, they were surprised.  Coach Miller was a fantasy
                 object for every male or female at their high school.  He was 28,
                    and when Tim considered the people he knew that he'd like to
                  fuck, Coach Miller was the one.  When Tim would try and wake up
                  early, one thing that would get him going would be to fantasize
                    about Coach Miller.  He would get hard, get up, jerk off and
                                           start his day.
                   He wasn't thinking about that now.  They both were speechless.
                 Coach Miller looked pretty steely.  "Chris, put your gear back on
                  and head home.  Tim, go grab a towel. I want to have a word with
                                         you in my office."
                   Tim went down and grabbed a gym towel that barely covered him.
                 With a look back, Chris headed out.  Coach Miller picked up Tim's
                 jock and marched down to his office.  He dropped the jock down on
                    his desk and sat down in his chair. Tim stood there, nearly
                    naked, but for some reason felt he had a lot of power in the
                                             situation.
                          "Sit down, Tim.  I've got some advice for you."
                    "So, you finally went for the big prize, eh Tim?" said Coach
                   somewhat mockingly.  Tim wanted to pick up his cummy jock that
                 lay on the desk and wipe the smirk off Coach's face with his cum.
                  Tim didn't know what Coach's game was.  He always struck him as
                 eminently cool, not someone hurtful or judgmental.  Tim felt fine
                  sitting there, half-covered with a towel and the smell of sweat
                                 and cum rising off his young body.
                 Coach had come back from a run when he stumbled upon the two boys
                   in the locker room, and his hot 28 year-old frame was glowing
                   with perspiration.  He was wearing a large, loose-fitting tank
                 top that was soaked with sweat.  One reason that Coach was such a
                   fantasy object around the high school was his hot body and the
                 fact that he did not dress as the traditional coach; no polyester
                   shorts, shirt and whistle with knee socks for Coach Miller.

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 He
                 was wearing black lyra shorts that stopped a few inches above his
                   knees, short ankle socks and running shoes.  He leaned back in
                   his chair; the sweaty tank top covered his crotch.  Tim wanted
                                                him.
                  "You know you could have anyone in this school, Tim.  You're 18,
                     you've got the best body/looks combination here and you're
                  graduating in three months.  Why are you wasting your time with
                                              Chris?"
                  Tim was pissed.  Who the fuck was Coach Miller to sit there and
                  comment on his choice of fuck-buddy?  Did he know how hard it is
                 to hook up in high school with other guys?  Tim knew he wanted to
                   fuck boys and he was beginning to come into his own with that
                  opinion. His shyness had always held him back and was the excuse
                  for why the hunky boy was without female companionship.  Tim was
                   ready to drop his shyness and get what he wanted out of life.
                    "You think I should be dating a cheerleader and dreaming of
                  copping a feel of tit and some drive-in and then going home and
                   jacking off thinking of how I rubbed her shoulder?  Fuck that,
                   Coach.  I don't know how much of what you saw back there, but
                   Chris and I were fucking each other and if you can't deal with
                                          that, too bad."
                    Tim was a little surprised by the strength of his response.
                                           Coach laughed.
                  "You weren't fucking, buddy boy, you were sucking each other off
                  and jacking off like a couple of 13-year old's.  You don't have
                       the body of 13 year-old, so why do you act like one?"
                   "Why do you expect me to do," he asked Coach.  He propped his
                   foot up on the edge of Coach's desk.  Coach had a full view of
                                           Tim's crotch.
                 "For one thing, don't act like a precocious little fuck, flashing
                            me your dick. Stand up and drop that towel."
                     Tim sat there.  "Stand up, kid and look at yourself in the
                                          mirror. Do it!"
                 The last thing Tim wanted was a lecture about how he shouldn't be
                  wasting his time on fucking around with other boys.  He stood up
                           in front of the mirror and dropped his towel.
                   Coach stood behind him.  "You're a beautiful man, Tim.  Like a
                  statue, perfectly formed.  Your feet, your calves, thighs, cock,
                   balls, torso, arms, face, hair.  Turn around.  Your back, your
                    ass. You have the body and looks to get anything you want in
                 life, and I don't want to see you waste it."  Coach's voice had a
                                         hypnotic quality.
                  "Here's a little news flash, Tim.  I like fucking men, too.  And
                     I mean really fucking.  I won't fuck you; I'd like to, but
                   fucking a student is just a little too risky.  I don't want to
                 see you waste your time.  Embrace who you are and start going for
                  what you want. How did you hook up with Chris?  Did you stumble
                                upon him jacking off and join him?"
                   "Pretty much," said Tim, feeling more and more the novice, but
                                 happy to have someone to talk to.
                 "Why don't you go after Carl Thomas.  He'd let you fuck him in an
                                             instant."
                    Carl Thomas was a senior, a swimmer, and an adonis.  Tim was
                                   shocked by Coach's suggestion.
                  "Carl Thomas, the great seducer of women?  Did you happen to see
                            him fucking around in the locker room too?"
                   "No," said Coach, but I've seen him look at you and trust me:
                    when I was in high school, secretly checking out the guys, I
                            learned all the tricks, and Carl wants you."
                  Tim's dick stirred at the thought of fucking Carl.  One of Tim's
                  first overt homo acts was stealing a pair of Carl's speedos and
                            using them for serious jack off inspiration.
                   "So Tim.  That's my assignment for you.  Find yourself; seduce
                     Carl and get what you want out of your life.  Don't be shy
                  because those around you won't accept what you are.  Find people
                   who will accept you and then talk to me about what's going on
                                             with you."
                 Tim and Coach would talk in the months ahead, but Tim had his own
                                              agenda.
                     "Okay, Coach.  On your advice, I'll try and fuck Carl, but
                                  there's something else I want."
                 "Shoot," said Coach, gathering his stuff, getting ready to leave.
                                      "I want you to fuck me."
                                "No way, jocko.  Too much trouble."
                  Tim spit into his hand and re-activated his cum-slicked dick and
                  immediately grew throbbingly hard.  "How will I know how to fuck
                 Carl if I've never fucked or been fucked?  I want you Coach.  You
                  said you wanted me.  Lift up your shirt and show me that you're
                       not hard and I'll go jack off, alone, in the shower."
                   "Tim... I can't do that."  Tim went for it and grabbed Coach's
                  tank top and was delighted to see a tree trunk erection heavily
                  constrained by coach's lyra shorts, topped off by a large shiny
                                        pre-cum soaked area.
                   "Fuck yes," said Tim.  Tim stroked his own cock and licked the
                                 resultant pre-cum off of his hand.
                   "You want to do it, Tim.  You really want me to fuck you, with
                  this?"  Coach took of his shirt and grabbed his dick through his
                                              shorts.
                   "Fuck yes, Coach.  Fuck me with that!"  Coach walked over and
                   locked his door. Tim stood there stroking his dick and rubbing
                    his pecs. His breathing was heavy and he felt more sexually
                           charged than at any moment in his young life.
                  "Put your jock on," ordered Coach.  "If you want me to fuck you,
                                   it's going to be on my terms."
                   Tim took the cummy jock from the desk.  "Put it on backwards,"
                                           barked Coach.
                 Tim looked at Coach, confused.  "Just do it, buddy boy."  Coach's
                  voice was totally turning Tim on.  He turned the jock around and
                     putting it on felt the slimy pouch creep up his ass crack.
                   Using his forearm, Coach cleared his desk off with one sweep.
                  "Lie on your stomach."  Tim laid down and his already slimy cock
                 leaked more precum on the desk top.  Grabbing Tim's thighs, Coach
                   spread the boy's legs and then dove into his ass crack tasting
                  Tim's sweat and cum.  He chewed the material and soaked it with
                  saliva.  He then pulled the elastic aside and Tim almost came as
                    Coach's tongue worked its way up Tim's asshole.  "Fuck yes!"
                                             cried Tim.
                   After slicking up Tim's virgin ass with his tongue, Coach then
                 inserted one finger and then another.  Tim was blown away by what
                   he was feeling and his pre-cum flow became a river as Coach's
                             fingers made their way to Tim's prostate.
                 Coach was surprised at how relaxed Tim's tight hole was.  Tim met
                  the thrusts of Coach's fingers with his own backwards thrusting.
                   "Give me your cock, Coach," moaned Tim as he looked backwards.
                  Coach kept up his finger work as he pulled down his lyra shorts.
                  His cock was straining against his totally pre-cum soaked jock.
                   Tim looked back in awe as Coach freed his eight-inch cock.  It
                    was thicker than Tim's, smoother too, with a nice pearly gob
                         streaming out.  Coach's balls were big, and tight.
                  "Turn over," said Coach.  Coach gently stroked Tim's dick and he
                   reached into his drawer and pulled out a condom and put it on.
                 Tim was in a trance-like state, in anticipation of the fucking he
                   was about to get.  Coach pulled Tim up to him and they mouth-
                 fucked.  No slight against Chris, but Coach knew his way around a
                  man's mouth. Holding Tim's face, Coach looked at him deeply and
                   asked him, "Are you ready for this?"  In a breathy whisper Tim
                                    answered, "Fuck me, Coach."
                   Coach proceeded to do so, with Coach holding onto Tim's beefy
                   thighs.  Coach would slow his pace and reach up stroking Tim's
                 pecs, and giving the occasional jerk on Tim's meat.  Tim was lost
                    in passion.  Tim was just as much fucking Coach with his own
                                  thrusts. "Let's go for it Tim."
                   They increased their pace.  Tim started playing with his balls
                    and jacking his own dick.  Coach pulled out, rolled off the
                 condom and started jacking too. Tim had his powerful legs wrapped
                    around Coach's torso.  They started coming together.  Coach
                   sprayed Tim's face with a heavy stream.  Tim's cum was arcing
              high and splashing his chest and stomach.  When they regained awareness,
                Tim pulled Coach on top of him and they shared the taste of Coach's
              cum in their mouths.  Coach looked at Tim.  "You little fucking seducer.
              I always said I'd never fuck a student."  "It won't happen again Coach,"
                            Tim said with a mischievous cum-soaked grin.
                                       "Until the next time."
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