THE CREW - Chapter 21
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Coach "Back"
Passage was feeling better.
Definitely much better.
In the past half hour he'd given Zak a "high-protein special diet" (a mouthful of cum) and had received back two doses in return.
Maybe there was something in the mumbo-jumbo he rolled out to all these impressionable kids after all? He certainly felt a whole lot better as a result!
And raring to go.
Of course, the whole scenario was different now.
It would have to be.
Although a sensation of feeling had come back to his fingers, he'd been so frightened by their temporary paralysis when he'd stuck one up Zak's ass that he'd decided that he certainly wasn't going to try anything like that again until Doc Lewis had given him another real thorough check over.
But that was the beauty of the plan Zak had proposed to him.
Because he needn't to do it himself in future anyway.
Coach was ready for his next boy.
He ushered Zak - who he'd allowed to put on a pair of very skimpy undershorts but nothing more - into the corner of his office and positioned him behind a screen.
And with that he went back to his desk, sat down and consulted the evening schedule.
"ZYLBERGER!!!!", he yelled, and within 15 seconds the first jock was in the coach's office.
Adolf Zylberger was 190 lbs of pure muscle.
But he was the tallest kid in the team too, so all that weight didn't look too bad on him.
In fact, come to think of it, it made him look pretty good.
Although "Back" knew exactly what he intended to do, he made a pretence of consulting a file on the desk in front of him.
"Well, Zylberger", he said.
"How's it going?"
Adolf Zylberger may not have looked very bright - but he was no fool.
Like all the jocks, he knew that it was fatal to give the wrong answer if you wanted to make - and keep a place in - the school football team.
And so, like the rest of them, he never replied "Fine", "No problem" or anything like that.
Even when there was no problem.
"Well, Coach Passage", he said slowly.
"I've got a problem - but it's real embarrassing, like."
"Back" put on his big paternal face and lowered his voice.
"Now you know, son", he said, "that there's nothing a boy can't tell his coach."
"It's like talking to his own daddy."
"Or a priest."
At that point Coach Passage recalled last week's edition of the local paper and the headlines about Father Rafferty, the altar boys and the prize zucchinis.
That reminded him of something else: he ought to drop Raff a line to see how he was getting on in the state prison.
But maybe, in the meantime, it wasn't very wise to mention priests to the jocks any more.
He moved on.
"So Adolf, what's up?
"I thought we'd cured your prostate problem a while ago."
Desperate to give the Coach anything to get a handle on, Zylberger stammered a reply.
"W-w-well C-c-c-coach…. I guess it could do with being looked at again. Sure c-c-c-can't do no h-h-h-harm, I guess!"
The boy attempted a wan smile but his heart wasn't in it.
Without needing to be told what to do, he stripped off all his clothes down to his boxers and climbed up onto Coach Passage's infamous massage table.
But Coach stopped him right then and there.
"Zylberger", he said.
"If the treatment last time didn't clear things up properly, then it'll have to be more rigorous this time.
"And I want you concentrating real hard on what I'm doing to you. You've gotta give this 100% and I don't want you being distracted, so I want you to wear this."
And, with that, "Back" passed Adolf a black rubber mask.
Truth be told, the last time he'd worn that had been several years before.
That was when he and Raff had picked up a couple of hitchhiking kids on the freeway and had had the time of their lives with them in a motel on the other side of the state.
He laughed to himself, too, as he remembered how, in the middle of the night, he and Raff had made a break for it and left the kids to pick up the motel bill - and explain the gross stains all over the bedding and the rest of the room.
Used to doing exactly what the Coach told him to do during the therapy sessions, Adolf Zylberger meekly put the mask on over his head. There were, he discovered, no slits for his eyes.
He was completely - but not for the first time - at Coach Passage's mercy.
"On your hands and knees, boy", said "Back" and, as he did so, Zak tiptoed across the room to join him.
Both looked down at poor Adolf.
"Back" nodded to Zak and looked on.
It was his new protegé's turn now.
Slowly Zak reached up and put his fingers around the waistband of Adolf Zylberger's boxer shorts.
He slowly began to edge them down over the jock's thighs, gradually becoming more and more confident as he realised that, with Adolf convinced that Coach Passage was at work, he wasn't even going to begin to object to whatever "treatment" Zak chose to give him.
Zylberger had a particularly hairy butt.
That was no problem for Zak - in fact that was just the sort he preferred to bury his face in.
But he knew from discussing his plan with Coach Passage, who was clearly quite enjoying his new role as voyeur rather than chief participant, that he had to move slowly and at least to try to maintain the pretence of this activity as "treatment".
So for the next 10 minutes or so Zak concentrated on giving Adolf's ass cheeks a thorough - and, indeed, quite rough - working over.
In fact, he got so carried away at one point that he found himself using his favorite line from one of his videos - the Paddle Studios classic Drilling the Drill Instructor.
"Slap that ass, boy!"
It was only later, in fact, that he realised that, under the circumstances, it was a very good thing indeed that the tight-fitting rubber mask meant that Zylberger couldn't actually hear a thing.
After 10 minutes of that, Coach handed Zak one of his special tools.
For once, it wasn't anything medical - or even veterinary - but it was the largest, thickest and most intimidating dildo that Zak had ever seen.
In fact, although there was no way Zak could know, it was actually a one-off model commissioned by the coach himself after he discovered that Dusty Davis, the star of the 1993 football team, was possessed of the largest schlong he had seen in all his years as a connoisseur of the male member.
"Back" had convinced Dusty to follow a therapeutic treatment that involved engorging his dick to its maximum size and then bathing it in a thick warm gooey liquid which was, in fact, some sort of gel which, when Dusty's dick had been removed from it, held its shape perfectly and allowed a mould to be made and a replica produced.
And that replica of Dusty Davis's dick was what Zak now began eagerly applying to Adolf's hole.
As a long serving team player, Adolf had had to get used to the Coach's funny little ways - and soon relaxed his sphincter enough to allow Zak to wiggle the dildo inside.
And upwards.
And onwards.
Zak continued wiggling it all the way in, while Zylberger could be heard softly giving little groans - of pain or pleasure it was impossible to tell - inside his rubber hood.
When it was completely buried in the jock's ass, apart from a sort of scrotum which he kept tight hold of, Zak started moving it rhythmically in and out.
After a while it was clear that any groans were, in fact, pleasurable rather than painful - as Adolf Zylberger's cock began growing almost as big as the Dusty's had been.
As it did so, "Back" grabbed Zak's free hand and guided it to the burgeoning member.
And all Zak had to do was keep hold of it. After all, as Adolf moved backwards and forwards in time with the motions of the dildo he was, in effect, jerking himself off in Zak's hand - though still under the impression, of course, that it was Coach Passage's.
Within just a few seconds the table - and Zak's hand - was sprayed with an ocean of Adolf Zylberger's hot cum.
Leaving the jock in position on the table for a minute or two more, Coach Passage waved Zak back to his hiding place in the corner of the room.
For a minute or two, he studied Adolph's naked form before slapping the kid on the rump, loosening the mask and telling him to get off the table and get dressed.
Adolph Zyberger was just the first of five jocks who went through similar experiences with Zak, in his new role as the Coach's stand-in, that night.
And not one of them, it's fair to say, ever guessed that a substitution had occurred - and that Zak had thereby validated his entry in the Inter-Crew Cock Contest.
Sure enough one of the five, team loudmouth Lee Dillon, was later heard to tell his best friend Sparky Watson that the Coach's hands had got so soft and young-feeling lately that he must have been using moisturiser.
But, strange to say, that rumour was stopped dead in its tracks after Coach called Lee in for a special three-hour therapy session all to himself, most of which was spent with his legs in the hospital stirrups and the dreaded rectal speculum jammed right to the hilt up his hitherto virgin ass.
© Rob Maynard /HMBoys.com 2006