I thought that you might like to hear about the time when I was in the under-18s team and had my first taste of soccer sex! What's more, I was introduced to this by a teacher, the games master who had only recently been appointed to take charge of soccer at our school. He must have been fresh out of college, because when he was in his kit he didn't really look any older than most of us sixth-formers.
I used to play regularly for the team, but for this particular away match I was on the reserve list as I had a slight muscle strain and it was thought best to rest me if possible. I would be able to play in an emergency, however, so I packed my strip as normal (we wore white satin shorts and white shirt). On this Saturday I was being given a lift to the match by the young games master, Mr Wetherall, as he actually lived quite close to my parents and - to use his own words - 'as I'm passing your door it seems a waste of time for you to go all the way into school to get the coach'. That suited me OK, but I thought at the time that a couple of the other lads lived just as close to Mr Wetherall, but he hadn't offered them a lift. I got into his large hatchback, next to him, and he drove off. The match was being played about twenty miles away, and we were in good time.
'Shame about your injury' said Mr Wetherall, looking across at me in the passenger seat, and smiling.
'Yes sir, but I might still get a match I suppose, if you decide to substitute'.
'Mmm, I'm not sure how sensible that would be. I don't want to put you under any strain.'
As I was unlikely to play, I had not changed into my kit but was wearing faded blue jeans (a concession allowed by the school on a Saturday, as normally we would have to wear uniform) and a white teeshirt. Mr Wetherall himself was wearing our soccer strip, as he always did on match days even though he was only the coach. At that moment, he drove off the main road, which I thought was a bit odd, and took a side road leading into countryside.
'This way takes no longer, and it gets away from the traffic' he said. 'How's the muscle strain coming along anyway? Are you getting much pain?'
'Not at all, sir. It's only when I have to stretch out for a ball that I sense anything.' His hand reached across to my thigh and rested on it. 'Where do you feel the tension? Is it here on your thigh, or ... higher?' There was a curious catch in his voice that made me nervous, but I found myself saying... 'higher'. With that he raised his hand gently upwards, and rested it at the very top of my thigh, just touching my crutch.
'If you like I could try some massage. It usually manages to loosen tension amazingly. Do you want me to try it?'
Somehow I knew that what I now replied would have enormous significance for the next half-hour. But I paused only for a moment before saying 'yes please sir, that would be good.'
'I'll have to pull in of course - can't risk an accident!' With that he pulled off into an even more deserted country lane, and drew up in a farm track. 'Why don't we move to the back seat - there's more room and I can get working on you properly there.' I immediately got out from the front seat, and opened the back door, and we both go onto the back bench seat. 'Now just lie back and relax, Justin. I know what I'm doing.' I did what he suggested, and lay back in the seat. Mr Wetherall again started to stroke my thigh through my jeans, at first without touching my mound, but soon his hand began to work more regularly at the top of my thigh. Then he lost all pretence about what he was up to, and lightly brushed the front of my fly with his fingertips.
'Mmm, you sexy lad. I've been waiting for weeks for this moment. There have been so many times when I have wanted to get inside your school trousers and make you shoot your teenage spunk. Just relax and enjoy this.' With that I could feel his fingers fumbling at the catch at the top of my tight jeans, which released and he then pulled my zip downwards. He tugged my crisp white teeshirt upwards to expose my smooth flat stomach, and rubbed the bare skin. I was breathing fast now, and very excited. Nothing like this had happened to me before. His hand continued its journey, and he began to slip his fingers down inside my open jeans. He went suddenly tense when he made contact with the top of my briefs.
'Oh my God, Justin, you sexy kid. You're wearing nylon briefs, aren't you? That's fucking fantastic, my favourite, and I shall need to suck your boycock through them.' I just gave myself up to him then. I have always loved the feel of a pair of shiny nylon briefs, and I was delighted that he shared my enthusiasm. The way that the material hugged my cock and balls, and gave that slippery texture was so exciting. In school, I would often sit at my desk with a hand in my trouser pocket, feeling the shiny nylon through my trousers and getting my cock really hard. I have lots of pairs of nylon briefs, and today was wearing a pair of powder blue. The teacher pulled at my jeans hard then, to get them down my legs, and I raised myself up to allow him to tug them right down. He gasped as my pants came into view, as they were bulging with my fast-growing hardon. I knew that they were fucking horny, and he was loving what he saw. My 17-year-old teen cock was pressing through the shiny material, and my well-filled balls made the briefs bulge with my boyflesh.
'Quick, stretch out lengthways on the seat so that I can work on you more easily' he urged. I didn't need any second instruction, but lay back, pulling my teeshirt up to expose my nipples as I did so. He pulled my jeans right off my feet, so I was wearing just teeshirt and nylon briefs. He began to pant with lust, and with his eager hand began to massage by throbbing cockmound through the tight straining blue material. 'You sexy little soccer stud, wanting me to wank you off in your pants, your tight nylon briefs. Let's see you wet them with your teenage precum juices first.'
He massaged my 7 inches of quivering cockmeat then, though this was all still through my briefs - he had yet to see my naked throbber. Right on cue, I began to wet my briefs with my precum which flowed freely from my loose foreskin. I knew that the clear pearls of boyjuice were making my powder blue nylon briefs transparent, and then he was staring at my teenmeat through the material. He slowly and loving wanked me, and then quickly moved downwards so that his mouth closed over the wettening briefs. Noisily and eagerly he began to slurp on my cockhead, still contained in by pants, whilst massaging my cum-filled balls with his hand. I was loving this, not realising before how hot such a suck session could be.
I think that I was probably moaning quite a lot by now, in fact I'm sure I was as I remember that this seemed to get the horny games teacher even more excited. I noticed that he had slipped his free hand down to his stain soccer shorts, and was rubbing himself hard through them - they seemed to be very well-filled! After about three minutes of this suck session, Mr Wetherall stooped and quickly released my soaking cock from the confining nylon. He tugged my briefs very slightly downwards, but only enough to allow my big juicy cock to spring out. For the first time now he touched the quivering flesh, and eagerly jerked me gently, letting my foreskin moved up and down over my big mushroom head. I was so wet from precum that I was slippery. He was masturbating me in regular strokes,and I knew that I wouldn't be able to hold back much longer.
Just then, he moved around so that I could have a clear view of what he was doing to himself, and I was amazed to see him pull the soccer shorts down to reveal a transparent g-string! I had never seen one of these before, and I was really aroused by it. His throbbing cock and juiced-up balls were clearly visible, and as I watched he began to wank himself fast by sliding his hand down inside his g-string. God knows how there was room.
'Quick Justin' he said. 'I want you to shoot all of your creamy teenspunk for me, over front of my shorts. I'm going to cum in my pants for you. Come on boystud, give me your hot milky boyspunk. Shoot a load of cumcream for me.'
This hot talk made me go wild, and I started thrashing around on the back seat with lust. 'Here I come, here I come' I shouted, as I felt the spunk begin to travel up my hot shaft in an ecstatic creamy explosion of boycum. My spunk pumped in jets over his soccer shorts, and at that moment he gave a gasp and I watched as his g-string filled up with his young manspunk.
My cock was tingling with pleasure as, ten minutes later, we headed off down the road. I could hardly believe what had happened, and we hadn't even got to the match yet! I was now wearing my soccer kit, as Mr Wetherall had said that he had further plans for me...