Trained by the Wrestling Coach

“Oliver! Push harder!”

I grapple with my opponent atop the wrestling mat, desperately trying to force the larger male off me.

“C’mon! You can do it!” My coach calls out.

I grip the college wrestling jock’s shoulders and flip him onto the mat with all my strength. His eyes widen with surprise as I straddle his muscular trunk, pinning him to the ground.

The crowd goes wild as the referee calls the match. I won! I can’t believe it!

“Nice save out there. That was close.” My coach pats me on the back as we head into the locker room.

His name is Steve Anderson, or Coach Anderson as he’s known by the team. He’s middle-aged, but still incredibly fit. A former wrestler himself, he has the kind of body I hope to have when I get older. His tall frame, square jaw, short brown hair, and intense hazel eyes give him a commanding aura that inspires respect.

He’s something of a legend in the wrestling world. Back when he was in college, he was practically invincible. He loved the sport so much that he made it his career, and now he coaches one of the most competitive college teams in the country—and I’m one of his star performers.

At least, I think so. I try not to get too cocky, but I’ve been on quite a winning streak lately. I wrestled throughout high school and landed a full-tuition scholarship to come wrestle here and train under Coach Anderson. It’s been a great experience so far. I’ll admit, it’s a challenge balancing sports and schoolwork though. My goal is to eventually go to med school and become a doctor. My parents unsurprisingly love that idea, and they constantly tell me they’re proud of how hard I work.

But even with all that, I’ve still somehow managed to fit in a social life. I hang with the other wrestlers after school, and I recently found a smoking hot girlfriend. She’s a platinum-blonde cheerleader for the football team, and she’s got the biggest tits you’ve ever seen. My wrestling bros are crazy jealous that my dick gets to plow that wet, dirty pussy.

To everyone on the outside looking in, my life probably seems perfect. I have the scholarship, the grades, the looks, the physique, the girlfriend…but deep down, something feels missing. Ever since I started training here, I’ve felt a sort of restlessness that I can’t explain. It’s something I don’t understand. Despite all the outward trappings of success, I feel like I need something different…

“Dude! Sick match today!” Dave, one of my fellow wrestlers, smacks me on the back as I enter the locker room.

“Thanks, bro. You did great too.” I smile.

“Nah, man! I’m nothing compared to the star of the team.”

Several of our teammates turn and nod in agreement.

“Y’all just need to follow Oliver’s example. Keep pushing hard.” Coach Anderson cuts in. “Overall though, this was a solid day for everyone. Good work…now get cleaned up and meet me outside.”

Our coach leaves the room as we begin stripping off our singlets and heading into the shower. I watch from the corner of my eye as Dave peels the thin, moist fabric from his flesh. Our uniforms get absolutely drenched in sweat whenever we compete, and showering is essential. I felt a bit awkward about it back in high school, but I don’t mind it much now. We’re all just bros, so there’s nothing weird about it. Though to be honest, there’s a subconscious level of showing off that happens in the showers. I think it’s just natural for guys to enjoy showing our physiques—especially when we all work so hard to look like this.

I watch as Dave pulls his singlet from his body. His thick, meaty shoulders are rounded and dense, while his abs are lean and slender. He has an incredibly tight, streamlined build. His body is shaped like a tortilla chip—wide at the top, and narrow at the bottom. We have a similar build, and it’s something I’ve always been proud of. It’s the masculine ideal.

“Dude, is that ringworm?” I point to a round red mark on Dave’s lower abdomen.

“Nah, it’s a birthmark. Keep your eyes to yourself.” He grins. “Bro, think fast!”

He grabs his dirty singlet from the bench and shoves it in my face, holding it against my nose. I try to swat it from his hand, but he holds it firm.

I know he’s just doing this to mess with me, but something weird is happening. I take a breath through the fabric, and I feel my muscles relax a bit. It’s the scent…is he wearing a cologne or something?

“Knock it off!” I yell as he continues pressing the singlet to my face.

“Make me!” I can hear him stifling a laugh.

I again try to pull the fabric away, but strangely, I don’t want to. This smell…I like it…a lot. My grip relaxes and I just sit still while he holds the warm, sweaty fabric over my nose.

“What the fuck, bro? Do you like this or something?” Dave bursts into laughter.

“N-no. Stop it!” I call out weakly.

He pulls the fabric from my face and tosses it onto the bench, but part of me wishes he’d keep it there.

“You gotta work on your reflexes, dude.” He smirks. “Come shower off.”

I follow him into the shower, feeling a bit dazed. I try to dispel that weird, relaxed feeling from my mind as hot water streams down my body. As the chamber fills with steam, I can’t help but stare as water trickles down Dave’s chest, accentuating the curvature of his pecs. It flows over the ridges of his abs like rocks in a riverbed. My eyes glide lower as the liquid falls onto his cock. The girthy organ hangs low and flaccid, his massive balls swaying slightly as he moves. Fuck, I wish my cock was that big.

I glance around at my naked teammates…yeah, my cock is definitely below average. Oh well, my girlfriend doesn’t seem to care, and I guess that’s all that matters.

“Oliver, can you pass the shampoo?” One of the guys calls out, jolting me from my thoughts.

“Yeah, sure.” I hand him the bottle and quickly finish my shower, keeping my eyes to myself.

We towel off back in the locker room. While we dry ourselves, I get a text from my girl.

“Hey bb, wanna hang tonight?”

“Sure. What do u have in mind?”

“Movie, cuddles, and maybe something extra ;)”

“Oliver, are you coming?” Dave asks after getting dressed.

“Yeah, I’ll be just a minute. You guys go without me.” I’m still naked and sitting on the bench, eyes glued to my phone. Fuck…it sounds like she wants to have sex.

“Yeah, I’m down. Meet at my place after dinner.”

As I text her back, I feel my cock begin to inflate. It’s been a while since we’ve had sex, and my dick is starved for pussy. I can practically feel those slimy, greasy lips wrapped tight around my dick as I press her into the bed…I can practically feel my cock pulsing as I release my lust inside her.

Fuuuuuuck! I don’t think I can wait until tonight. Maybe I can squeeze out a quick one here before joining the other guys?

I look down at my rock-hard cock as a tiny bead of precum seeps from the tip. Yeah, I definitely gotta do this.

I pull a tube of lotion from my bag and squeeze it into my palm, but nothing comes out. Is it clogged? I shake the tube and squeeze harder, trying to force out the blockage…and it explodes.

Lotion sprays out into my hand and onto my forearms. Ugh, what a mess.

I slather some onto my dick and glance around for something to wipe the extra on. Dave’s used singlet sits on the bench in front of me. Immediately, the memory of that scent returns to me, and my muscles relax again. I feel kinda gross about touching the dirty fabric, but I’m too fucking horny to care at this point.

I grab the damp cloth and wipe it against my forearms. While mopping up the excess lotion, I notice the scent again.