This is a long story that happened a very long time ago in the late 80s. It is a story that some might find troubling, I myself have mixed feelings about the relationship. But with time comes clarity and with that clarity of time, I have come to accept that much of what transpired was very much by my own design.
I grew up in a pretty fucked up home environment. My parents were both drug addicts, cocaine mostly with some heroine mixed in just for kicks, and there was a lot of abuse and neglect during my formative years. Growing up in such an environment can have serious negative impacts on a person and I was no different. I was pretty much heading down the same path as my parents until I discovered the sport of wrestling in 8th grade.
I was a natural at grappling. I’m naturally athletic and I had a mean streak a mile long (a direct result of my Father’s approach to parenting). So wrestling gave me an outlet and a focus that I desperately needed. When I got to high school I went out for the team. I was the only freshman wrestling varsity at my weight class and before long I became one of the leaders on our team and earned a reputation regionally as a formidable wrestler.
I turned my academics around and began to dare to dream of a life beyond my neighborhood and away from my parents. My coach took special interest in me. He knew the neighborhood I came from and he knew a little about my fucked up life outside of school and wrestling. He would often drive me home since my neighborhood was several miles from school and I had no way to get home that didn’t involve the shoe-leather express.
So, Coach Billy had a pretty clear insight into what sort of life I had. He was always ‘talkin’ issues’ with me, offering advice and encouragement. Coach Billy was in his early thirties. He was a tall, ridiculously fit, black man who lived in an apartment complex a few neighborhoods away. He was a brilliant wrestler who also boxed at the amateur level. He made me a far better wrestler and I also began working out at his boxing gym during the off season. In short, he was a mentor to me and I give him a great deal of credit for helping me to navigate my adolescent life and to find a path away from the negative influences of my home and my neighborhood.
I spent a lot of time with Billy. Was he grooming me? In retrospect I believe that he probably was. Wether it was long hours of wrestling after practice, or boxing, or the many many times he messaged my sore muscles when I hung out at his apartment (trying to avoid my home). I had seen him naked many times in the showers after practice. His cock was huge, like amazingly huge.
As our relationship grew I found myself thinking about him in ways I knew were wrong. His massive dick was a thing to behold and his body was ripped. When I was drunk after a night of partying with my friends, I would allow myself to think about being with Billy sexually.
Late in my junior year I participated in a regional boxing tournament. The tournament itself was a bust, I was KO’d in my second match. We arrived back in town late and he asked if I minded sleeping on his sofa so he didn’t have to drive me all the way home. I agreed and when we got to his place I showered. I didn’t have a change of clothes so I just put on my jock strap and headed out to the sofa. This may seem overt, but it wasn’t uncommon for Billy to hang out in front of me in nothing but a jock (which as I write it sounds a lot like grooming). I had never followed his lead, but for some reason I just decided to hang out in my jock for once.
Billy was watching TV and he offered me a blanket. I curled up under the blanket and dozed off. I was roused from my slumber by his hands on me. I tried to protest, but he was pushing my head into the sofa and he was aggressively sliding his huge oiled up cock between my ass cheeks. With his full weight on me he began talking into my ear saying things like “I know you want this dick, I see you looking at it, you can’t resist it…etc.” mind you I don’t remember the exact words but that was the gist.
I honestly didn’t know what to do. I was scared shitless because I was about to be raped and there wasn’t a whole lot I could do about it. But he didn’t rape me. He continued to slide his huge dick back and forth between my cheeks and kept talking to me. Finally he told me we could stop at anytime, and asked me if I wanted him to stop. This much I remember with absolute clarity because my answer was ‘no’.
I didn’t want him to stop. In fact I wanted him to fuck me and I told him so. Suddenly he was kissing my ear and neck, nibbling on my earlobe. And soon he was forcing an oily finger into my ass. He kept talking and was once again in coach mode, telling me how to relax.
Finally I was loosened enough that he began rubbing his beautiful cock against my hole. But no amount of fingering could prepare me for his gigantic dick. The pain of his initial intrusion was intense. I cried out from the pain. He kept coaching me, telling me to breathe, coaxing me to relax.
His coaching helped and soon I did relax. Billy began slowly sliding his impossible boner inside of me. The pain was ever present but the waves of pleasure began flowing over me. I began moaning like a woman as he penetrated me. And soon I was moving my ass in time with his gentle thrusts.
Suddenly he pulled all the way out, stood up, and told me to follow him to his bedroom. When we got to his bed he asked me to lay on my back and he got on top and pressed his lips to mine. In that moment I became so overwhelmed with lust that I hungrily kissed him back and begged him to fuck me.
Billy fucked me missionary for awhile and then told me to get on all fours. And that’s when he began owning my ass, fucking me hard and fast. I was experiencing the most intense pleasure of my life. Later I would come to understand what an ass-gasm was but in that moment I wasn’t sure how I was having multiple full body orgasms that made me breathless and made me shudder with incredible, but also frustrating, pleasure.
I finally felt Billy stiffen and then I felt him cum. His cock pulsed over and over again and I could feel the warm wetness of his cum inside of me. We collapsed side by side and coach whispered to me reassuring me that what we did was ok and natural.
I fell asleep in his arms. The next day I awoke early, snuck out, and huffed it home. Obviously I was pretty fucked up mentally in the immediate aftermath. I smoked a bunch of my old man’s weed to escape the lighting in my head. I mean I stole the old man’s weed often, but this time I remember being grateful that my coc and heroine addicted Dad also kept a large volume of weed around pretty much at all times.
At first I figured I’d just not go to the gym, wrestling season was months away and I could forget about the whole thing. My ass was bloody the next day, but coach had warned me about that possibility so I didn’t freak out too much. My plan worked for a week or two until a Friday night when I went out drinking with some buddies. When I split ways with them and began walking home, I passed not far from Billy’s. Without much of a plan I walked to his place and rang the buzzer, he answered, I said hello, he clicked the door and I walked up the stairs to his place. I honestly didn’t know what I’d do, part of me wanted to punch him, part of me wanted to verbally dress him down, and part of me knew that I was probably going there to have gay sex with my coach. When I entered his place, he grabbed me and kissed me and I forgot all about the first two plans.
Those episodes began a casual relationship that lasted through the summer. During that time Billy taught me all about gay sex, from deep throating to rimming. Billy was arrested the next fall for his involvement in a steroid distribution ring. He went to prison and I went to college and I never saw or heard from him again. I heard through the vine that he passed away in the late 90s.
I have mixed feelings about Billy. I know he was preying upon me. I was a stereotypical troubled kid who needed love and guidance, caring and mentorship. But he did give me those things and he helped me tremendously in my life, aside from the taboo sexual relationship we had. And, as a fully realized adult, I can honestly say that the experience was not ultimately damaging to me and left no serious long term effects… well, I still have a bit of a thing for black dudes, but I aint exactly alone in that.
I welcome any thoughts and/or feedback. Thanks for reading.
Xoxo
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/fa1gvj/mm_my_first_time_with_another_man