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The Coach's Playground

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londonboy

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I remember the first time I saw Coach use his super strength.  He thought he was the only one in the gym, but I had stayed late to make sure the team’s uniforms were all clean for the upcoming game.  The man’s sonic moaning boomed through the empty building – causing me to leave the laundry room to go see what was happening. I knew it wasn’t sounds of pain, but it did seem like someone was getting a lot of pleasure somewhere.  I followed the noise.  When I got to the weight room two things became obvious – one, I finally figured out what was causing so many objects from the center to disappear and two, Coach had a special way he liked to masturbate.  

 

To look at him, you would have thought nothing more than there was a well-built older man.  He was nice to look at, but really nothing spectacular.  What I beheld that night, however, changed that opinion for the rest of my life. There, in the middle of the room, in the midst of all the weight and machines, stood the gray-haired shirtless Coach shoulder pressing a bar so loaded down with weights it had to be over a thousand pounds.  On closer inspection, I could see that it was two bars twisted together, which would make sense since one bar could not withstand that much weight.  Even two tightly twisted bars weren’t strong enough to prevent the contraption to bend dangerously low on either end.  The man was cranking out reps with the enormous thing like it was a light twenty pounds.  There wasn’t any sign of strain on his face, nor was he breaking out even in a slight sweat.  It’s what he did next that definitely changed the course of my life forever.

 

Coach simply moved his right hand over a little and dropped his left hand down to his side.  He continued to crank out one-handed presses – with enough weight to equal a grand piano.  I let out a gasp and instantly was scared I had given my presence away. The Coach continued to rep the insanely loaded bar without even a moment’s hesitation.  At the same time, he undid his pants and pulled out his large hard cock.  As he watched himself press the weight up and down in the air with one hand he started stroking his meat in the same deliberate rhythm.  On the twenty-fifth lift the Coach let out a loud growl and shot a big load of cum across the gym – splattering the mirror where he was watching himself, which was about twenty feet away.  Even in the midst of his orgasm, the super strong daddy continued to crank out repetitions.  I was too shocked at his strength to dump my load right then and there, but I was harder than I had ever been in my entire life as I watched him one arm lift what surely was an impossible weight to even consider moving.  When his orgasm finished, the elder man stuffed his dripping cock back into his pants with his free hand and then grabbed hold of the twisted double bars again.  I watched in complete awe as Coach bent the bar upward – turning his wrists outward, which made the two weighted sides clank together up in the air above his head. The metal bar bent so easily you would have thought it was nothing tougher than a wet pasta noodle.

 

Coach wasn’t even breathing hard.  It was clear all of this was child’s play for him.  The man stared at himself intently in the mirror.  I knew I could not even begin to lift what he held aloft above his head, let alone even try to roll it across the floor.  I now understood why there were so many busted padlocks around the gym, why people complained of cars being in different spots in the morning when they came out to the parking lot, and why I’d sometimes find scraps of missing forty pound plates on the floor.  The Coach was some kind of superman and, until now, he had kept this a secret.  I realized immediately that I would keep his secret, too.  I wouldn’t even let him know that I knew.  I would, however, come back to see him do more amazing things. That’s when I heard his voice and the hair on the back of my neck stood straight up.

 

“Matthews!  Meet me in my office.”

 

So, he had heard me, and he knew exactly whom it was that had made the noise.  I thought about running, but something told me that wasn’t a good idea – and, besides, I was too turned on to not talk to him about his strength.  I walked slowly behind him as he easily carried the weighted bar to his office – a room off the corner of the gym.  When I entered, the mangled bar and weights were on the floor and he stood there with his arms across his chest watching me.

 

“You’re working late, Matthews.”

 

“Yes sir.  I . . . um . . . wanted to finish the laundry.  I’m sorry, Coach.”

 

“Hell, why are you sorry, son.  I knew you were here.  You’ve got the best work ethic of any twenty-two year old I’ve ever met.  I’ve been waiting to talk to you like this. Try and lift it.”

 

I looked at him dumbfounded. He used his chin to indicate the thousand pound ‘elephant’ in the room.  It was as if he could read my mind.  I desperately wanted to see if all that poundage was real.  I was kind of ready for the surprise of seeing it was all fake, just for the fun of it – made of Styrofoam or something else which looked real but made it easy to lift and manipulate.  I walked over to the bent bar, which stood straight up in the air since the major weights rested on their side on the floor.  I saw that Coach, himself, had twisted the two bars tightly together, but he had clearly had to widen the holes on the plates to get the double bars through them.  That explained the warped middle holes of all the plates in the gym.  It had always baffled me what machine had widened the things. I now knew it was Coach’s fingers. Even though it was fun to imagine all of what I had seen was a trick, I knew it wasn’t.  Before I even touched the demolished bar I knew it would be solid as hell and unmovable.  I pushed and nothing budged.  I moaned a little.  I shoved harder and, again, nothing moved even a fraction of an inch.  The thing weighed over a thousand pounds.  I’d never even begin to make it move.  Coach walked over beside me – coming so close the heat off of his body enveloped mine and I was suddenly surrounded by something akin to a warm fire on a cold night or a blanket that’s wrapped snuggly around your body.  He grabbed the top of the bent bar with one hand and lifted the thing into the air – easily.  

 

“Four of you couldn’t lift this thing, Matthews, and look at that, I do it with one hand.  Pretty hot, yeah?”

 

“Yes sir.”

 

“Yes Coach.”

 

“Yes . . . Coach.”

 

“That’s a good lad. There’s nothing I like more than being a coach.  Well, that is, after being super strong.  Helping young guys reach their full potential is what I’m all about.  I think you’ve got a lot of potential, Matthews.  How about it?  Would you like to be able to tie metal bars together as easily as you tie your shoes?  You want to have the strength of a hundred men wrapped up into that body of yours? Just think of the things we could do together – and older superman with his younger super sidekick.  I think we’d make a great team.  How about you?”

 

While he spoke, Coach had picked up a random forty-pound plate and proceeded to start poking his forefinger through the steel in the middle of the plate.  It was like he was only poking through wet tissue.  His fucking finger pushed through thick metal with a small pop that filled the room.  I couldn’t even begin to wrap my head around how much strength was in just one of his fingers.  As if he could read my mind, the Coach started using his pinkie to do the same thing – making it clear that his kind of strength was coursing through all of him. He finally just folded the plate in two, as if he were closing a book.  The screeching sound of metal being forced to do something it wasn’t supposed to was both extremely satisfying and a little terrifying.  

 

“Your big strong elder Coach needs a play buddy – someone he could wrestle and not worry about crushing. I want someone who can spot me when I bench a bus or a dump truck.  I want someone to be able to take my ejaculations and not be blown apart with so many holes it looks like they’ve been in battle.  I want to arm wrestle on the hood of an SUV and ruin the vehicle when I slam my opponent’s strong arm down with enough force to make the thing look like it was totaled in an accident.  I want to watch a guy get close to lifting as much as me and see him get turned on by his own strength.  I want to fuck so hard that buildings collapse around us.”

 

“Um . . . was there a question in there, Coach?” I asked after a few seconds of silence.  He was now breathing heavy and his crotch was back to full mast.

 

“Not really, son. You’ve already been chosen,” the elder superman responded.  “I just thought I’d give you a preview of what I’m going to do for you.”

 

“I think my answer’s been poking in my pants since I saw you lift all that weight earlier, Coach,” I replied.  “I only ask one thing.  I want you to put a ring on my finger.  I want it to be for good.  I want to be two married supermen.  I want to be a kept boy.”

 

This pleased the elder man tremendously.  He gripped the edge of the plate in his hands and squeezed some of the metal off between his thumb and the side of his forefinger.  It was as easy as if he were tearing off a chunk of bread.  He then took the ripped metal and started rolling it between his palms – compressing hard.  Soon he had a perfect small cylinder of metal.  He squished it slowly between his thumb and forefinger to flatten it a little.  The Coach then blew on it – making it clear that his little handiwork had made the metal so hot it could easily be molded.  When he deemed it ready, he took my left hand and wrapped the thin sliver of demolished steel around my ring finger.  He tied it in a little gem like bump on top.  It was clear that thing wasn’t coming off my finger unless the big man took it off himself.  I could still feel warmth radiating from the manipulated steel.  I looked up into the elder man’s eyes.

 

“Time to give you super powers, boy,” Coach said to me, smiling.  “With just one round of my sperm you’ll be benching four hundred. Imagine what you’ll be doing after a week of my plowing.  Don’t worry, I can control my ejaculations until you’re more powerful.”  

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So hot Londonboy! We habe talked before about your writing and it never disappoints.  Hope you continue this. Would love to see the young 22 year old Matthews gain his super strength. 

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