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It was the final semester of my fourth year of college. All but one of my tough classes were finished. I was going to wrap up my college career with a couple of electives I had been holding off on, and if I didn't mess them up I was on track to graduate cum laude. On the whole I wasn't really worried--they were mostly freshmen courses--but there was one class in particular that was troubling me: Physical Education 101. Let me explain.

Every degree at my college had a mandatory Phys-Ed requirement. It was a stupid rule and almost universally complained about. Students usually took the course in their first year, and I was no exception. I took the class in my first semester. Only I happened to get stuck with the biggest hard-ass on campus: Coach Johnson. He was a middle-aged Rottweiler with a quick temper and a perpetual scowl on his face. I wasn't out of shape by any means, but the way he worked us I was ready to drop dead at the end of each class. And for whatever reason--maybe because I never took his class seriously or maybe because he just didn't like me--he always had it out for me. He always extra hard on me and there was rarely a day where I could actually move after one of his classes. The final straw was a rather embarrassing one. I'll skim over it. It was a long day and I was pent up from studying so hard--midterms had taken me by surprise. I found myself staring at Coach Johnson. In particular I found myself staring at the bulge in the rather tight shorts he usually wore. Did I mention that I'm gay? Despite how much I disliked him he was actually quite attractive. He had a tall stocky frame and nicely toned muscles that showed through his gym shirt. I started to wonder what he might look like naked and, well, one thing led to another... Somehow I managed to end up standing in front of the entire class with a rock-hard erection showing through my gym shorts. I realize that this is the sort of thing that only ever happens to boys in middle school. Believe me when I say that I got more than enough grief for it: the story somehow got around my dorm and it felt like I was the butt of every joke for about a week. Even after everyone forgot about it I was sometimes kept up at night shuddering in embarrassment. What was a horny young wolf to do? I ended up dropping the class. The glaring mark on my transcript was a perpetual reminder of what had happened. Imagine how I felt when I saw that literally the only teacher I could retake the course with was Coach Johnson. I nearly cried. Not only would I be surrounded by freshmen, but I would have to deal with him again. I could only hope that he didn't remember me.

Which was too much to ask for, of course. The second the hunky Rottweiler laid eyes on me he nodded curtly. "Good morning, Phillips." I faltered with a weak "hi" and sat down on the gym floor where the rest of the students were gathered.

However the hell he had managed to remember my name and face from of the hundreds of freshmen that went through his classes every semester was beyond me. He was as handsome as ever, and I couldn't really see any difference in his appearance aside from a few grey whiskers on his muzzle. His body was still very toned, it definitely had the same appeal I remembered it having. OK, I'll come clean. Despite my hatred for the class I had a bit of a crush on Coach Johnson. If that wasn't obvious.

I chatted with a nervous classmate next to me before the class started. Coach Johnson's gruff voice chimed in at 9:00 on the dot. "I see a lot of new faces here today. A few familiar ones, too." He made eye contact with me.

"Welcome to Physical Education 101. Many of you might have ideas about what gym classes are like leftover from high-school. Many of you are probably frustrated that you have to take this class to graduate. I'm going to ask you to set aside whatever notions you have and understand that this is a serious course. Exercise is essential to a successful education. There is no bell curve here, and your mark is almost entirely dependent on how much effort you put into the activites. Whether you pass or fail is entirely up to you. If you put in extra effort, you will do well in this course. And yes, people have failed this class before. Any questions?"

And so it began again.

We were quickly set to doing every type of drill imaginable, and that was just warm-up. By the end of the class every muscle in my body was sore, including a few that I forgot I had. Bad memories from first year were rekindled. For years I had kept a vague notion that I was "fit". That notion had crumbled by the end of that 90 minute period. My fur was matted and I was panting like mad. I looked like a mess.

I wasn't an unhealthy person: I ran three times a week and ate well. This class was just brutal. Johnson always had his eyes on me and corrected me for the slightest imperfection. I was doing exactly what everyone else in the class was doing, but once again he seemed to have chosen me to be the scapegoat. It was demoralizing. It wasn't enough for me to be ten push-ups ahead of the rest of the class--I had to have a large Rottweiler breathing down my neck telling me to go faster. He didn't notice when anyone else in the class fumbled, but all it took was a single slip-up for me to have him barking corrections at me. Was it spite for what had happened four years ago? Was he just some bitter old curmudgeon? While I guess did eventually find out why, it was all quite ridiculous.

Of course I might have just been projecting. I spent so much time in the class covertly checking Coach out that maybe I did do a few things wrong. I think he might have caught me a few times but he never did anything about it.

On a couple occasions when we did laps in the pool I actually got to see Coach in a speedo. My jaw dropped momentarily when he came out of the change room. He was clearly no stranger to the weight room. The fur on his chest, which was normally covered by his shirt, was a light brown. The colour led down to an enormous bulge that was barely concealed by the fabric. The speedo in question was maybe a size or two too small, but hey, I wasn't complaining. I closed my mouth and tried to look disinterested, though I can't have hid it entirely. I was salivating. My thoughts were interrupted by Coach.

"Phillips! Look alive!"

I had forgotten all about how sexy Coach was after about 20 lengths of the pool. I had never considered that swimming could be difficult. I had to sit out for a bit and regain my composure. I sat on the edge of the pool panting as I watched Coach urging on several other students. This was just a "warm-up", apparently.

Spring break rolled around, and I got my midterm evaluation. It wasn't pretty. I had a C in the course with a comment saying that I "needed improvement." I felt that I could hardly improve if I tried: I could barely move at the end of his classes. I wasn't sure if this Coach's idea of a joke or what but I was going to get to the bottom of it. I wasn't going to drop the course again--I couldn't this time. If I wasn't able to resolve this with a face-to-face chat with Coach, I would have to go to someone higher up.

Four years of college had taught me how to deal with a lot of less-than-ideal teachers. If I didn't confront him now I would have to wait a week for when classes resumed. I steeled myself as best as I could and made my way to the Athletics building. I showed up at the hallway to his office five minutes before his office hours started. It was dark and musty--one of those sections of the campus that seemed like it hadn't been used in years. I thought I had come to the wrong place before I got to the end of the hallway. A faded plaque on the door read JOHNSON, R. The light was on and the door was slightly cracked open. I peeked in. Nobody was there.

The office was bare, and very tidy. It consisted of a few chairs in front of a hardwood desk, will a few filing cabinets. It was hard to imagine that Coach had been using this office for years. It matched his rigid personality, I thought. I sat down in one of the chairs and waited. There was a generic motivational picture of some scenic vista on the wall alongside a few portraits of the college football team. Ten minutes later he still wasn't there. I got up and looked around a bit more. There was a plush football and a few other novelty items on his desk, but I didn't see any pictures of his wife or kids. That's when I noticed something on the floor. A jockstrap--a very definitely used jockstrap-- was just lying on the floor behind his desk. My pulse quickened. Oh fate, I thought, why must you tempt me so?

I looked out the door to see if anyone was coming. It was just as quiet as before.

I picked up the jockstrap and examined it. It wasn't fresh but it still reeked of Rottweiler. I raised it to my nose and took a big whiff. The scent hit my nose powerfully. It was almost too much and I recoiled for a second before I came back for more. I stuck my tongue out and gave the fabric a cursory lick. Coach Johnson's taste lingered in my mouth. It was so utterly masculine and just thinking about where this had been I was getting a stiffy. It had rubbed against his sheath, it had soaked up the sweat dripping from his balls, it had-

"What the FUCK are you doing, Philips?!"

I froze and turned to see Coach standing in the doorway. I was wearing his jockstrap on my head.

If popping an erection in gym class had been the most awkward moment of my university career up to that point, it sure as hell wasn't anymore. Coach Johnson stared at me in disbelief. He looked tired and sweaty as if he had just finished a workout.

I put the jockstrap down and got up. "I, um, uh... I'll go."

I quickly walked to the exit but was blocked by the large canine. He closed the door behind him and turned the lock. "You're not going anywhere." He was quite a bit taller than me, and he was very intimidating as he stared me down. His face was stern, but his eyes betrayed something else. I had no idea what was going through his mind.

That is, until he grabbed the back of my head and pulled me into a kiss. His whiskers brushed against mine as he forced his tongue into my muzzle. I spent a short while trying to pull away before realizing that this was probably the best reaction Coach Johnson could have had to this situation. It took me a few seconds to convince myself that this was actually happening. I gave in and let him explore my muzzle with his tongue. We brushed tongues and swapped an enormous amount of saliva. The look in his eyes was clear now: there was a mix of lust and excitement. I ran my hands through the fur on his hard body as we stood with our muzzles locked. I felt him doing the same to me. I felt his hard shoulders and back muscles and then ran my hands along his chest. He firmly squeezed my ass while he was busy running his tongue along every surface in my mouth. He grabbed my sheath through my pants--my dick at this point was already half-hard--and gave it a light squeeze. I shivered in delight.

"Goddamn boy, do I really turn you on that much?"

The answer to that question should be clear. This was a scene straight of one of the many wet dreams involving him I had over the years. I couldn't do anything but nod timidly. I still barely believed that this was happening.

Coach chuckled. "Well maybe we should get a bit more familiar..." He put his large hands on my shoulder and pushed me down to my knees. My face was now level with his crotch. I fumbled awkwardly while undoing his pants, but once they were at his knees I was met with a sharp musk. I could see the outline of his semi-hard member through his boxers, and I leaned in. I started sucking on the tip through the fabric. Coach groaned appreciatively. The flavour of his musk invaded my mouth. I rubbed my nose up and down the member and felt it grow harder.

When I reached up and pulled down the boxers, Coach's massive cock flopped down onto my face. I ignored it and leaned in so I could start licking his balls. The furred orbs just radiated an overpowering masculine scent. The pre that was dripping down his shaft smeared into my fur. I smothered his hefty brown balls with my saliva and smiled as I heard him groaning. They were large, and I couldn't help but feel the weight of them on my tongue as I pleasured him. I pressed my nose against the shaft and licked up from his balls to the tip. I got a taste of the copious amount of pre-cum Coach had already leaked. I gave the tip a brief peck before sliding my mouth over the shaft. It was a massive and it was a bit of a challenge getting it in my muzzle, I sucked on the dick before pushing it down further. I give pretty good head, I've been told, but the sheer size of Coach's member had me struggling. Coach didn't seem to mind, judging by the fact that he grabbed the back of my head and pushed me down further. The pressure of his hand on the back of my neck reminded me of how powerful this male was. Coach definitely wasn't the type of person who would be satisfied unless I had every inch of his dick crammed in my muzzle. After a certain point I couldn't take any more. Coach would push me down a bit too far and I would struggle and come up sputtering. I was rusty, I guess. "I don't think I can take any more, Coach."

The Rottweiler had a shit-eating grin on his maw as he winked at me. "Sure you can, Phillips. You're a tough guy." I opened my mouth to protest, which might have been the wrong thing to do at that point, because Coach jammed half of his cock back in before I could say anything. He grabbed the back of my head and started thrusting. I gagged at first, but at this new pace I got used to it fairly quickly. I was able to focus on how sexy the situation was. I reached down into my pants and started stroking my own member, which was already very hard.

As I sucked I noticed that his knot was getting bigger. I reached my tongue out and coated as much of it as I could. I raised my left hand to the bulb and started massaging it while I used my other to fondle his balls. Feeling the sheer size and weight of them I could already imagine how big Coach's load was going to be. I was just that much more motivated to get him off. Coach was panting and he had his hands rested on my shoulder as I bobbed up and down on his cock. "I'm getting close."

That was as much warning as he gave me before he grabbed me. He spun me around so that the back of my head was up against the door and proceeded to fuck my face without mercy. I choked a bit before I adjusted to the new rhythm of his thrusting. Every time he thrust in I felt the knot right in front of my lips and the tip of his cock poking the back of my throat. His balls slapped into my chin, which kind of hurt, to be honest. They were very heavy and Coach definitely wasn't holding back. More and more spurts of pre-cum shot down my throat and I felt that Coach would finish at any minute now. He gave one powerful thrust after another without losing any energy for some time. I knew he was about to come when he gave one final thrust into the back of my throat and tensed up.

After about a second of silence he let out a grunt and started shooting. Shot after shot of his very hot cum was fired at the back of my throat and I swallowed as much of it as I could. He pulled away from my face and spurted a few last shots into my face. Coach gave a long relaxed sigh. I finished what I had started earlier and jerked myself off in a few strokes. That had probably been the hottest experience of my life back then.

I still had a quantity of cum left in my mouth and it took me a while before I could drink all of it. It had a salty flavour, but it wasn't particularly offensive and I drank it down with pleasure. He patted me on the head as I cleaned the rest of his cum from my face. "I've been wanting to do that for years, boy."

I blinked. I couldn't believe he had just said that. It seemed counter to all common-sense, and yet it was clear that Coach was being serious right now. I just sat there for a bit and had tried to sort out everything that had happened. I had completely forgotten about my original purpose for coming.

"So did you have any reason for coming here? Besides sniffing my undergarments, I mean." Coach asked.

"No. Um, wait, I mean yeah... No, nevermind." I got up to leave.

"Wait." He went over to the jockstrap I had left on the floor. He picked it up and tossed it to me and winked. "You can keep this."

I couldn't get to my dorm room on the other side of campus fast enough. I jerked off--furiously is the word, I think--several times in the next hour alone. For a while I just laid on the bed with the coach's jockstrap over my head. I was really glad I didn't have classes that day.

Spring break was a long one and I couldn't get Coach off my mind. The fact that he was just as interested in me as I was in him amused me to no end. I spent a great deal of time just thinking of all of the possibilities. It was somewhat anti-climactic, therefore, when I went back and the course continued on as if nothing had happened. Class went on just as it had. Except now I swore that Coach was openly checking me out. I wonder now if my classmates noticed. Regardless, there was no lenience on Coach's part. He was just as stringent, and if anything I was working harder than before.

Friday's class was weight-training. We hit the school gym and had to make a workout routine. Coach divided us into pairs so we could spot each other. There were an odd number of students in the class, so Coach supposed that I would have to pair up with him. I knew it probably meant that I would be working my ass off for the next period, but I wasn't complaining. The groups split off and Coach examined me.

"You need to limber up, Philips."

"I, uh..."

Next thing I knew I was laying on my back on the floor with Coach holding my left thigh against my chest. "Ah, not so rough," I complained, pathetically.

"Stretching is very important, Philips. You wouldn't want to injure yourself." He led me through some rather suspicious warm up stretches before outlining the routine that I was going to do. It was about twice what I thought was reasonable, but I didn't think that complaining was going to get me anywhere.

When the time came for bench-pressing, Coach led the way to the weight bench. He waited while I adjusted the weights. I had always had weak arms, but I put on a pretty reasonable amount. I started lifting and made it through ten reps rather easily. Coach didn't look impressed. "I think you could use a bit more weight." I watched in horror as he put on a couple more weights on each side. "There, that's better."

I immediately ran into trouble. Each rep was a struggle. I made it through seven before I was panting and convinced that I could do no more. Coach, who had been standing behind me the whole time spotting me, tried to give me some encouragement. "C'mon Philips! Only three more."

His crotch was a few inches away from my face and I could smell it. I had to refrain myself from thinking about how I had sucked on that very dick not two weeks ago. Being in such close proximity to my head I couldn't exactly ignore it, but I tried my best. My sheath was already a tad stiff and I didn't want a repeat of first year.

I shut my eyes and blocked the sight out by trying to finish my set. I had three more reps and my arms were already trembling. I breathed in and got a faint whiff of his musk. "I give up."

"You're doing this." Coach took my hands and pressed them against the bar. I had no choice, so with a huff I brought the bar down. I shut my eyes tightly and after a concerted effort I somehow managed to bring the bar back up. "Just two more."

I rested for twenty seconds and then brought my arms back up. I carefully brought the bar down and with what seemed like the last of my energy I pushed up. My arms were trembling and I was sweating. I didn't think that I was going to make it. The shaking in my arms was wild but somehow I managed. The sound of the bar clinking on metal was an enormous relief.

"I'm done," I said.

I had one more to go, and my arms were like jelly. I just laid there on the bench panting. I was convinced that I could do no more. Coach leaned down and whispered into my ear. "If finished I'll let you blow me after class." I looked up at him and he grinned at me. Well shit. That was one way of motivating your students.

I rested a bit more, and then with a new determination I grabbed the bar and brought it down. My arms were trembling violently. I visualized myself sucking on Coach's cock--the cock that I could literally smell right now. It wasn't six inches away from my head and I could have it if I did this. I summoned all my energy and after letting out a huge grunt I pushed it all the way up. My arms collapsed the instant I heard the clink of metal and I panted wildly. Coach gave me a pat on the shoulder.

I met him after class. He used similar motivation methods on other occasions and let's just say that they always worked. It was mostly pretence--he probably would have let me suck him off anyway--but it certainly motivated me.

One time near the end of class he asked me if I wanted to go out for a drink. I had a bit of homework that needed to be finished, but I figured I'd go along. I could finish the work some other time. I met him in front of a bar that night. It was fairly crowded, but we managed to find an empty table and sat down. "Is Budweiser alright?" he asked me.

"Yeah, sure." Honestly I didn't even enjoy beer but I could force it down when necessary. He brought me a bottle back from the bar and we made awkward conversation for a while.

"So you're what, a bio major?"

"Chemistry."

"Ah... I think I took a Chemistry class... way back in highschool. Haha..."

Well that clearly wasn't going anywhere. I tried a few different conversation subjects. Coach seemed eager when I brought up sports. I knew almost nothing about the subject, but Coach was content to go on about them for some time. It broke the ice at least, and conversation proceeded somewhat smoothly from there. I asked him something that had been on my mind.

"So why do you always push me so hard in class?"

"Do I?"

"You definitely do."

"I admire you and want you to try your best. Plus I think you're cute when you're sweating." He smirked.

Well he certainly had a funny way of showing his admiration, I thought. I guess it did explain his actions on more than a few occasions. The bar was loud and after a beer or two Coach started getting restless. He reached a hand under the table and put it on my leg.

"You wanna, you know..." He motioned towards the exit with his eyes.

About time, I thought. I smiled. "Yeah, let's go."

His place was only a few blocks away so we walked. Coach had barely opened the door and put down his keys before he leaned down and drew me into a kiss. It didn't last as long as our first kiss. Coach had other things on his mind. He undid my zipper while we were kissing and started groping my sheath. He reluctantly broke off the kiss. He pulled off my shirt and quickly moved his muzzle down my chest, planting light kisses on my abs. When he got to my crotch he quickly got rid of my pants and pulled down my boxers. He stared at my sheath, which was already showing a few inches of my cock, and licked his lips.

Without further ado he slid his lips down my cock. The sudden of having it suddenly enveloped by Coach's muzzle made me moan. It became fully erect almost instantly. When he reached the base his whiskers brushed against my balls. After holding that position for a second or two he drew back and started to give me a proper blowjob. I wasn't normally very vocal with things like this but I couldn't help moaning. Coach had barely started and I was already close.

It was incredible having this muscular male between my legs. It might not have technically been the best blowjob that I ever received, but the fact that it was Coach who was giving it made it the most memorable. This big, powerful Rottweiler who could have taken me right here and fucked me senseless was sucking on my cock. Every time he bobbed his head down I moaned. Just thinking about the warmth of his tongue rubbing up and down my member still gets me hard to this day.

That familiar little tingle rose up in my loins and I knew was going to come any second now. "Ah... Ah, I'm coming!"

Coach sped up sucking and before long I was shooting my semen into his muzzle. The surge of satisfaction that spread over me was incredible. Coach just held his muzzle down as I pumped out a few more spurts.

It was a bit of a shock when he finally pulled his muzzle away. He grabbed me and gave me another kiss. I could taste my cum on his tongue, and ended up swallowing some of it down. He pulled away and smiled at me. "Help me undress."

I didn't need to be told twice. He raised his arms and let me pull his shirt off. I couldn't help myself from rubbing his biceps and nibbling on his pecs, but I figured that he might be getting impatient and didn't linger too long. He lifted his legs so I could pull of his pants and boxers. I just threw them to the side and admired the sight before my eyes. It was the first time I had seen his completely naked body, and it was a real treat. A few inches of his cock were already visible.

"I want you to fuck me so bad right now," I told him.

He only smiled. He grabbed my arm and led me to his bedroom. Walking behind him I got to admire his plump ass. When we got to his bed he gently pushed me on my back and then crawled up on top of me. He sat with his legs on either side of my head and rested his balls on my face. All I could do was take them into my mouth and massage them with my tongue. Coach towered over me, and seeing so much muscle so close made the situation all the more erotic. He weighed so much that I doubt I could have gotten out of the situation if I tried. Not that I would have tried. Coach started rubbing his dick slowly and gave me a wicked smile. "You wouldn't believe how sexy you look right now, Philips."

He pulled his balls away and grabbed the base of his dick. Next thing I knew, I kid you not, he was playfully slapping his massive dick across my face. Back and forth I felt his heavy meat slap against my face. I tried to get away before I realized that it was useless. I was stuck here and Coach could do whatever he wanted to me. Hell, I had asked for it. I just submitted and watched Coach's dick grow longer as it battered my face. I have to admit, despite my initial reaction, this act of dominance was pretty hot. I was already hard again after being blown not five minutes ago.

He slowed down after a bit and put the cock in front of my lips. I stuck out my tongue to give it a taste Just before it reached the member Coach pulled away and lightly slapped my face a few more times. He repeated this act and every time I would be close enough to take it into my mouth Coach would pull away. I whimpered in humiliation. He chuckled. He gave me some mercy and unceremoniously slid the tip of the cock into my muzzle.

Even though I had taken Coach in my mouth several times by that point it was still an exciting experience. I never got tired of his distinctive taste. He moved in and out with increasing speed until his dick was pounding the back of my throat. "So you want me to fuck you, do you?"

Oh yes I did. I knew what was coming next and I did my best to get his dick as wet as possible. Coach was gigantic and I wanted to make this easy on myself. He fucked my muzzle against the bed like that for some time, and despite being a bit sore I maintained a hard-on the whole time.

Without warning he pulled his cock out of my mouth and turned himself around so I was staring up at his ass. It hovered over my face and I panicked when he began to sit down. It was no use. The tip of my nose pressed into his anus as he put his weight down. I was momentarily stunned before I realized what he wanted of me. I cautiously put my tongue forward and pressed it against his entrance. I was encouraged by the fact that it was clean and began to explore further. I traced my tongue over the pucker's folds and slowly began to push in. After a bit of pressure my tongue slid into his hole. I immediately got a "fuck yeah" from Coach, so I guess I was doing it right. I wiggled around the smooth interior a bit as I gradually adjusted to the pressure the sphincter placed on my tongue. It tasted surprisingly clean--like a subdued version of Coach's musk.

As I was doing this, Coach laid across my body and began to inspect my hole. I felt a pair of fingers spreading open the entrance before Coach leaned down and jammed his tongue in. Where I had taken the process slowly, Coach immediately started fucking my ass with his tongue. It was a delightful experience.

I reached around and grabbed his dick as I continued to lick his hole. It was fully hard and still wet with my saliva. I started stroking it lightly, which elicited a nice groan from Coach. A large gob of pre-cum dripped onto my chest-fur.

Coach continued his tongue-fucking while I rimmed him. It was half-hearted at this point--I was mostly focused on the feel of Coach's tongue in my ass. He pulled it out and stuck two fingers in. After my ass adjusted he stuck in a third. I guess he figured I was ready then, because he pulled his ass away from my mouth and sat on the other side of the bed facing me.

He sat in front of me waiting, his cock at full mast. I knew what he wanted me to do, so I got on top of him and positioned his cocktip against my anus. I slowly began squatting down. I made it a few inches and waited to adjust to his size.

It was wet enough for me to slide down his shaft without much resistance. There was just so much of it. Each new inch was painful, but I knew from previous experience that the pain would subside shortly. I took a rest to adjust after I had sat halfway down his cock, but the rest was fairly easy. I was sitting on his knot in no time. The look on Coach's face was one of unadulterated pleasure as I began to fuck myself on his shaft. Once he was satisfied that I was adjusted he began to thrust up as I went down. I could already feel amazing pressure on my prostate, and I began to jerk myself off.

Coach quickly grew tired of my pace and flipped me on my back. That's when he got serious. He placed my paws over his shoulders and started slamming his cock into me with full force. The sudden burst of energy he displayed was contagious, and I couldn't help pushing back as he thrust. His knot pounded against my entrance. I was moaning wildly and so was Coach. There was no pain now. Each thrust brought a new burst of pleasure. I had never been fucked this hard and it was amazing.

After a while he pulled out and flipped me on my stomach. My face was pressed against his pillow and my cock was pressed against his bed as he stuck his shaft back into me. He continued from where he had left off. As he continued giving slow and deep thrusts he laid his weight on top of me. I was stuck against the bed as his thrusts got stronger and stronger. My painfully hard cock was rubbed against the bed-sheets every time he thrust in. I could feel his knot against my entrance now, and the image of the shape and size of that enormous bulb loomed in my mind. It wouldn't be long now.

He leaned over my shoulder and gave me a light peck on the cheek before resuming thrusting with full force. I focused on the sensations of his shaft as it continually brushed against my prostate. His balls slapped into mine as the thrusting became more intense. His knot opened me up a bit more with each thrust and my eyes watered with the pain. It would hurt, but it would be worth it.

He grabbed onto my shoulder with his mouth and bit down before he gave a powerful thrust. His knot slipped in, and I bit the pillow to muffle a cry. It was a curious mixture of pleasure and pain that only someone who's experienced it can describe. The pressure of him inside me made me come almost instantly. I blew my load into the bed-sheets underneath me. He gave a few more thrusts after we had tied and then began to shoot. Coach grunted. I felt a warmth quickly radiate through my insides as they filled up with the Coach's cum. The feeling only augmented the pleasure of my orgasm.

I sighed as his balls continued to pump his seed into my rump. He released the bite he had on my shoulder and laid his head down beside mine. He seemed perfectly content to just lay there as he emptied the rest of the contents of his balls into me. Well so was I. I basked in the afterglow and just enjoyed the warmth of Coach against my back.

He was quite heavy and I was worried that he would fall asleep on top of me, but after about ten minutes his knot had softened a bit he pulled it out. A pool of his cum poured out of my ass and onto the bed-sheets. The room reeked of sex. He would have a hell of a time cleaning those stains.

He invited me to a shower and I happily complied. We washed each other off, and I was happy to spend a few minutes feeling up the body that had just ravished me. That would probably ravish me again, shortly.

We met up a few more times through the semester and many more lewd acts took place. He even let me top once, but it wasn't the same. I was fine just letting him rut me like there was no tomorrow. He seemed to be fine with it too.

The end of the semester rolled around, and what do you know, I passed the course with an A. I graduated on time and with honours, and was accepted into grad school shortly after. Maybe you have something to say about academic integrity. OK, I admit that maybe my results in the class weren't entirely honest. But dammit I put in a lot of extra effort for that grade!

I don't have a lot of free time since I started grad school. Teaching undergrads on top of taking normal classes can get stressful. Just about the only respite I get is the occasional outing on the weekend. But whenever things get too hectic I have a simple solution. I just give Coach a call and we meet up. Coursework can get tough and I get less sleep than I'd like, but it doesn't seem like a big deal when I'm with Coach. He has a way of fucking the stress right out of me that works every time.