BOY TOY
For my own personal preferences, I would like to remain anonymous. I have agreed to tell all my secrets, but as of now, I am not comfortable revealing my identity.
I guess I should tell you a little about myself, right? Okay, well, I’m a twenty-one-year-old man and I go to college for fashion design. I want to start my own clothing line for plus-size girls. I am five foot nine, Latino and Caucasian, I have brown hair, and…I’m gay.
I think I first knew I was officially gay in the ninth grade. In middle school I was feminine, and everyone thought I was, but I kept denying it. For years, I lied to myself. I had probably five real girlfriends. All of them were madly in love with me, but I never was in love with them. In fact, I remember the day I knew I was gay, and that same day was the day I had my first gay sexual experience.
I had seen the fliers around school for football tryouts and I decided to go, hoping it would make Dad proud and put some hair on my chest. I got there, and to my surprise, I was smaller than the older boys… much smaller. Every one of them was pushing six feet or taller and they all looked like they spent way too much time in the gym. And then there was Martin Luke, the guy with two first names. He was over six feet tall, caramel-skinned, and he had brown dreads that tapped his shoulders. He was the god of the football team, basketball team, wrestling team…all the teams. Every muscle on him bulged without him flexing.
On that particular day, we were all in the locker room. The room smelled of nothing but stench and sweat…and we hadn’t even started working out yet. There were four aisles surrounded by lockers. The room looked as if a big blue monster had thrown up blue juice all over the place. The floor was gray with blue specks, the lockers were blue, the walls were painted dark blue and light blue, and the showers had blue tile on the floor. It was enough to make your brain hurt. Well, Martin was wearing nothing but a cup and some old tennis shoes. He was talking to a friend and leaning up against the blue lockers.
“Whoa, looks like we got a faggot trying out for the team!” Chris Maddox sneered.
I looked down and my seven-inch dick was so erect I could’ve hung everyone’s coats on it. I didn’t know what to say. I looked up at Martin.
“See something you like, faggot?”
I couldn’t speak.
“Hold him down.”
Every guy in the locker room came towards me. I pushed through them all and ran out on the field. Why was I still trying out? All of the boys came outside with Martin Luke front and center. I turned away for fear of making eye contact and out of my peripheral vision, I saw something huge coming straight towards me. I turned right into Martin Luke’s fist as it came into my cheek and I fell to the ground.
“Don’t you ever look at me again, faggot!”
“What’s going on?” Jamar Jackson, a senior football player, ran up to the huddle.
“This faggot was checking us out!” Chris yelled.
“So you beat him up?” Jamar asked as he helped me up. “You know what, Martin? You’re only beating up on him because he’s smaller than you. How ‘bout you fight me?” Jamar towered over Martin and waited for a response.
“Man, fuck you!” Martin yelled and started to walk away. Jamar grabbed Martin by his shoulder, spun him around, and socked him in the face. Martin Luke dropped to the ground and all of the boys started yelling and laughing.
Coach came running up to the huddle. “What the hell is going on?” About fifty boys started yelling, trying to explain what had happened, and the only words I could hear were “this faggot.”
“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Coach yelled. “One person at a time.” He looked at Jamar. “Tell me what happened.”
“When I came out here, Martin and his friends were trying to beat up this guy for being gay.”
Coach was obviously mad as he looked at each of us. “So I guess you met the Captain of the football team… Jamar Jackson. Jamar here is a great leader – not because I trained him,and not because he can knock a man out in one punch.” We all looked at Martin Luke, who was still on the ground, motionless. “But because he does what’s right! He has integrity! He has respect! He has loyalty! And for the few of you who will make my team, you will learn the same qualities.” He glared at us all. “Understood?”
“Yes,” some boys mumbled.
Jamar stepped forward. “When addressing an elder or anyone in authority, you address them as ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’! Understood?”
“Yes, sir!” we all shouted.
“Good,” Coach said. “Everybody except this young man will stay back, run the field, and put up the equipment.” He pointed to me, and moans and groans rang out over the crowd of boys. “You should have thought about that before you started picking on somebody that’s smaller than you!”
We carried on with the tryouts, and when we were done, the Coach ordered pizza for him and me in his office while we watched the guys run. After all that had happened, I couldn’t stop gazing at those boys run with their shirts off, muscles bulging, dreads bouncing, cornrows dangling, hair blowing, and –
“So you really are gay?”
I looked over at the Coach and he pointed to my now-hard cock. I covered it immediately. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I control it?
“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me, but you’re going to have to do a way better job of hiding it.”
I put my head down in embarrassment.
The guys left in time to catch the activity bus. I didn’t want to ride with them, so I pretended to lost track of time cleaning the locker room. Coach came out of his office ready to leave and was shocked to see me.
“What are you doing here, kid?”
“I was cleaning up and lost track of time.”
“You sure as hell did. Do you know what time it is?”
I looked at my cell phone. “10:00.”
“Damn right! Now, how are you getting home? Do your parents know you’re here?”
“My parents are out of town, so I was going to walk.”
He paused for a moment and then set his stuff down. “Look, I’ll take you home.” He hesitated. “But, you got to do something for me.”
As he walked towards me, I backed up. I kept backing up until I was against the wall. Coach Krisby grabbed me by my shoulders and turned me around. He pinned me up against the wall while he yanked my shorts and boxers down.
“Now you be a good faggot.”
I felt him struggling to pull his pants down. He let me go so he could pull them down with ease and I tried to run.
He grabbed me. “Where you going, boy? You know you want it!” He forced me on my knees, yanked my head back, and said, “If you bite it, I’ll kill you.” Then he forced his massive dick in my mouth and face fucked me.
I gagged and then, eventually, threw up, the contents of my pepperoni dinner splattering on the locker room floor. I had never sucked a dick before.
“Get up.” I did, and he pointed to the bench. “Lie down.”
I did, and then it happened. He was slowly putting the head of his cock in my virgin asshole. I was scared, but I wanted him too. I mean, I really just wanted to know how it felt. He was slowly putting it in and out, just the head, until I relaxed.
“You like that, faggot?”
I nodded. I did. Then I didn’t. He kept going deeper and deeper, and the pain was so horrid I wanted to cry. I almost did, but I couldn’t let him see me cry. He enjoyed it. He moaned and moaned, and hearing him moan turned me on. I motioned for him to get up a little and I put one knee on the bench and put my other foot on the ground. With my ass in the air, I grabbed my cock and started stroking it. He liked that.
“Oh yeah, beat that dick.”
I beat it harder and harder and he rammed me harder and harder. He smacked my ass with his right hand and put his left one up under my shirt to play with my nipples. I could hear him about to come and it made me want to explode. I beat my dick faster, and he fucked me harder until I was coming and shooting it all the way across the locker room. He pulled out, turned me around, and beat his dick until my face was covered in his goo. I never stopped jacking off, and seeing him explode with pleasure made me come again. I lay back on the bench as my body vibrated and come erupted out of me like lava out of a volcano. Coach was still coming and it landed on my stomach.
I lay there shaking with passion. When I finally stopped, I licked the come off of my fingers. I wiped the come off of my stomach and face and licked my fingers clean. Coach was about to get a towel to wipe his dick off, but I grabbed him, shoved his massiveness in my mouth, and sucked the come off of it too. I looked up to see if he liked it and his face was blank. I stopped.
“Put your clothes on. Let’s go.”
What? I was confused. I tried to look in his face for an answer but he didn’t look my way. He just got dressed, got his things, and said, “I’ll be waiting in the truck.”
The ride home was long, and right before I got out of the truck, he said, “Nothing happened tonight.”
My face was full of shock. I got out of the truck and the bastard didn’t even wait to see if I got in safely before he sped off.
Later that night, I couldn’t sleep, trying to figure out what happened. The more I thought about what happened, the harder and hornier I got. Before I knew it, I was humping my fist and gripping my bed. I imagined Coach spraying my face in white semen and I had an orgasm all over again. I didn’t clean myself up. It was so good; my hand was still gripped around my dick when I fell asleep. I woke up at three a.m. beating my dick. I must’ve started in my sleep because I don’t remember beginning, I just remember being about to come. Three more times that night, I woke up jacking off to the memory of me and Coach Krisby. The next morning as I put my sheets in the wash, I thought to myself, There’s no denying it now. I’m gay. I smiled. And I like it.

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