Story Time: Dumb Horny Jock

A lost jockstrap leads to newfound pleasures under the coach’s desk.

[Updated 01.09.22]

It’s been months since we did a story time post! Last time I shared a story about high school muscle worship and the fraternity that such masculine tenderness breeds. Offsetting it with illustrations by Matt turned out to be a stellar choice, as lots of you confessed to finding those drawings to be big turn-ons.

This week, we’re back in high school jock territory but with a series that focuses less on camaraderie and more on the accidentally sexual foibles of a dude known only as the titular Dumb Horny Jock. At just 18 years old, DHJ is presented in first person narrative and with a near child-like naivety about sex and his own sexual appeal. He well understands how the male body works, however, and manages to accidentally bring every male adult he comes into contact with to explosive orgasm.

Except for his racist, ever-disappointed dad, that is. Over the course of the series, DHJ’s dad manages to walk in or view the most inopportune moments of his son’s misadventures, but never has any of his own.

It’s an interesting choice that the author focuses on race and ethnicity the way he does. The Jock himself is white and repeatedly described as rich or privileged, and while the characters that take advantage of him tend to be working class men of non-white ethnicity, they are not necessarily race fetishized the way one might expect.

There is so much humor and ironic juxtaposition in the presentation that it’s hard to take even potentially offensive lines with any seriousness. For example, in the story we’re discussing today, Dumb Horny Jock – Coach, Coach Celik is drawn as a Turkish brute of a muscle man, replete with “biceps as round as grapefruits” and “thick black curly chest hair spilling out the top,” of his polo shirts.

Arguably the most offensive statement we’re given about the coach is that DHJ’s father “doesn’t like immigrants coming and stealing our jobs and our women.”  Which isn’t about the coach specifically, at all. The punchline here isn’t that immigrants are bad, it’s that the father is a broadly-drawn racist who doesn’t like any sort of ‘otherness;’ a caricature designed to make DHJ’s accidental intimacy with these men more naughty and salacious. In other words: it’s not titillating because a white boy is having sex with a non-white man, it’s titillating because the boy’s father sees that concept with such great disdain.

Similarly, the punchline of the coercive and often unwanted sex that DHJ encounters (the 180 degree opposite of the YAY-SEX! world that Josman cultivated in his art) is not that he’s being taken advantage of, it’s that he’s too naive to know that these things are happening to him deliberately, and not by accident, the way he imagines. His over the top mental justifications for the sort of things that are happening are meant to be comically ludicrous, when paired with the fact that he’s got a massive penis spurting into his mouth.

The joke is that he’s having sex with these men without even really realizing that it’s sex. To him, it’s all a series of big misunderstandings: “…on second thought, I realised that he must have been thinking of his wife and accidentally got so turned on that his giant dong popped right out of his shorts under the desk.”

Yeah. That’s probably what it was.

Dumb Horny Jock – Coach

by CJ | via the Nifty Archive

I lost my new jockstrap today. I swear I remember where I put it – I came in from practice, last as usual with coach right behind me. Coach makes me run extra laps in just my jock and these synthetic material shorts. He says they help my body breathe when I’m running but they seem to just make me sweat more. By the last lap, my smooth trench is dripping with a thin layer of fresh sweat, coating my pink pucker and making it twitch uncontrollably. I could never tell coach though – it’s not like he’s a doctor or anything. He probably wouldn’t know why it twitches like that…

Dad wasn’t too happy when Coach Celik was offered a job at my expensive private boys high school. My Dad isn’t a bad person, really… he just hates the idea of immigrants coming to our country and stealing our jobs and our women. One day I pointed out that Coach Celik is already married, so it was only the job he was stealing, but Dad just frowned. He even had some of the other parents sign a petition to have Coach Celik fired! But Coach Celik is a former Turkish Olympian and the school just couldn’t say no to publicity like that. So Dad had to hold his tongue.

Anyway, I sprinted into the lockerroom and kicked my wet shorts down to my ankles and stepped out of them. Coach Celik stood in the doorway with his usual half-smile on his face. He’s a big brute of a man with biceps as round as grapefruits and tends to wear white polo shirts with thick black curly chest hair spilling out the top. Did I mention that he’s Turkish?

They must all be hairy animals like coach… his strong thighs are just as hairy and it seems like his stubble is painted on his face. His skin is a caramel colour which is accentuated by the muscles that bulge and flex all over his body. Most of the time it looks like he’s going commando – I guess they don’t wear underwear in Turkey.

Coach stayed silent in the doorway as I made small talk about school and my grades, grabbing my towel out of my locker and slowly sliding my jockstrap down my legs. I felt the cold air hit my pucker as my legs spread a little wider and I shivered – no big deal being naked in front of coach, he’s used to seeing us all in the buff. Maybe not a teen jock with a bouncing bubble ass as smooth as mine though. I kicked my jock to the side and started walking towards the showers… only I didn’t make ten steps before I heard coach call out a loud, deep ‘Hey!’

I stopped and turned to see him standing by my locker with his hands behind his back. He nodded towards the clock on the wall and explained that there was no time to shower as he had to get ready for the parent/teacher conferences. Of course! Dad was due here at 5pm to meet Coach Celik and talk about my athletic performance. Dad certainly didn’t want to meet with this muscled Turkish gorilla but the school insisted that parents meet with each teacher at least once.

I grinned, walking back to my locker and stood beside coach – so close in fact that I could feel the heat from his fully clothed 6’4 musclebod radiating in all directions. It even looked like the bulge in his shorts was bigger than usual but must have been a trick of the light. Looking around on the floor, I couldn’t see my jockstrap. Frowning, I turned to my locker… nope, not there either. Where the hell was it?

‘I’ve lost it!’ I moaned to coach, and explained that it was a brand new one that Dad had just bought. coach looked at me with that half-smile (or was it more of a half-sneer?) and said he had plenty of spares in his office. In no time, we were there and coach had pulled out an assortment of jockstraps in all sizes and colours. I self-consciously stood there completely naked in coach’s office and squeezed my tight round glutes to calm my nerves.

I must have tried on a dozen jockstraps. Coach Celik was kind enough to make sure I had the straps fitted on tight, running his thick rough fingers between the straps and my smooth teen ass until he snapped them back against my boy butt. He suggested I get up on his desk on all fours so he could kick back in his chair and get comfortable while helping me find the right size. He even moved aside the framed picture of his wife so I could really spread out. I tried a white jock, a black jock, a red one… even a pink one! I didn’t even know they made pink jockstraps! He spent the longest time fitting that one on me and I prayed that my tiny little smooth asshole wasn’t twitching too much. At least, if he noticed it spasming right in front of his face, he was too polite to say anything. And every so often his fat thumb would lightly graze against my hole by accident.

We both lost track of time and it was 5pm sharp when we heard a knock at the door and an unhappy but familiar sounding voice mumble ‘Coach Celik?’ Shit! It was my Dad! And students weren’t supposed to be on school property when parent/teacher conferences were in session! I hopped up as quickly as I could in that little pink jockstrap and looked around coach’s office – no way out. I wouldn’t fit out the window and hiding behind the bookcase wasn’t an option. Suddenly it came to me – under the desk! I quickly dove under the desk between Coack Celik’s hairy spread thighs just as Dad opened the door and stepped inside.

I closed my eyes and held my breath as they mumbled their greetings and I heard them shake hands. Luckily, Dad hadn’t seen me and the desk was the type with a solid panel on the visitor’s side. All I had to do was stay quiet for half an hour and it would all be over and I wouldn’t get into any trouble. Dad launched into his usual speech about how proud of me he is and I smiled, letting out a quiet sigh and slowly opening my eyes… but I wasn’t prepared to see a rock hard Turkish missile of flesh sticking out the leg of coach’s shorts and pointing right at me!

A dark-caramel coloured 11-inch babymaker was aimed at my face and slowly throbbing in time with coach’s pulse. I guess I knew for sure now that coach doesn’t wear underwear – I made a mental note to buy him some for Christmas. Worse was that his big horsecock and low-swinging nuts were hanging out the leg of his shorts and he didn’t even seem to notice! Taking a closer look (well, there was nothing else to look at) I noticed how wet and sticky his bloated knob was. It was almost as if he had been slow-stroking that enormous dick under the desk the whole time I had been trying on jockstraps! But on second thought, I realised that he must have been thinking of his wife and accidentally got so turned on that his giant dong popped right out of his shorts under the desk.

Dad rambled on and on… I could hear coach grunting in agreement but they both sounded bored with the conversation. My nostrils filled up with the salty-sweet stink of that fresh Turkish cocksnot and I closed my eyes, imagining I was anywhere else rather than stuck under my married coach’s desk with his veiny pole throbbing and oozing in my face with my Dad sitting only 2 feet away! I soon opened them again when the unthinkable happened – that slimy cockhead started pushing against my straight teen lips!

Coach must have been paying such close attention to Dad’s stories of how good at sports I am, and how proud he’ll be the day I get married and have kids of my own, that he didn’t realise he was slowly sliding his chair forward under the desk! I couldn’t make a sound or Dad would know I had been listening in on the whole thing and I was sure to be grounded for a few weeks. So I stayed quiet, eyes growing wider as that big Turkish fuckstick invaded my mouth! I had to let coach know what was happening.

I slid my hands up his calves and then up his hairy thighs, squeezing gently to try and get his attention. I heard him chuckle in his deep voice – maybe Dad had told a joke? – but he didn’t pull back and let that meat flop out of my jockboy mouth. That huge knob was resting on my tongue and my body flinched as I felt it squirt a rope of boiling hot precum into my mouth. Coach Celik sighed and suddenly became very talkative – asking Dad lots of questions about his work, and our house, and what football team my Dad followed, almost as if he wanted my Dad to stay and chat for as long as possible. But he still didn’t realise that his fat horsecock was lodged in my mouth as I knelt there under the desk in a bright pink jockstrap. Speaking of, the heat under the desk soon got to me and my pucker was twitching over and over in rhythmic pulses. I tried in vain to concentrate and make it stop but it was no use.

Taking one look at the giant orbs hanging in his hairy sack, I knew that he had a big load stored up. And I certainly didn’t want coach to get distracted and accidentally unload a full batch of baby-batter down my straight throat. I had to get his attention somehow. I squeezed his thighs again gently so I didn’t startle him and applied a small amount of suction to the head of his cock. It was the only I thing I could think of to make him realise that he had unknowingly stuffed his slimy fuckstick into my mouth while he sat there calmly chatting with my Dad. But Coach Celik just sat perfectly still. I tried sucking a little harder. ‘Come on’, I thought, ‘You have to feel this!’ Sucking my cheeks in tight, I was hoovering the first few inches of his 11-inch throbber but he still didn’t notice.

Coach was chuckling and groaning as Dad talked, asking more and more questions. It was obvious from Dad’s short answers that he just wanted to leave but it was as if coach wanted him to stay. I tried a new tactic – perhaps I could push this enormous dripping hog out of my mouth with my tongue! Poking it from all angles, I couldn’t quite push it out from between my puffy pink lips. Not even rubbing my tongue all over it and tracing the thick veins seemed to get his attention. I wondered if having a dick that big made him less sensitive… he just couldn’t feel that his dong was lodged in a straight teen’s mouth. I mean, if he knew, he would have pulled out immediately right? Why would a married Turkish bull-stud who almost got fired because of my Dad want to ram his cock down a rich white boy’s throat?

The more suction I used, the more saliva filled up in my mouth. Soon I was gulping down mouthfuls of my own spit and gooey cocksnot non-stop but some of it still dripped down my chin. I stared at Coach Celik’s sweat-soaked wiry pubes and watched them get closer and closer as my lips travelled further and further down his hog but he still didn’t budge. With both hands on coach’s thighs I couldn’t reach back and give my asshole some relief so instead I arched my back and humped my ass out – it was better than nothing! I felt my soft lips press firmly against his hairy dick root at the same time as his big paw of a hand came down on top of my head and held me there. Finally he had realised the situation; any second now he would pull that huge slobber-covered dick out of my mouth.

I rolled my eyes with relief as his chair slowly started to roll backwards… only… his hand was still holding my head firmly down in his lap! My teen throat was bulging with adult cock and all I could do was crawl forward as he slowly slid his chair backwards and out into the open. I let out a particularly loud slurp on that donkey dick that stopped my Dad mid-sentence. I could imagine him watching in horror as his straight teen son was slowly exposed, lips tight around this Turkish stud’s gigantic throbbing cock, precum dripping off my chin and wearing a pink jock with my smooth bubble butt wagging in the air!

I looked up at Coach Ceilk from between his huge spread hairy thighs. He had a cocky shit-eating grin on his face but he must have been grinning out of sheer embarrassment. Noone would be happy to have their dick slammed balls deep down a tight teen throat. He gave my head one final stroke and looked my Dad right in the eye – as his balls pulled up tight and a load of thick white sperm gushed up his hosepipe and started pouring down my throat. Dad stood to leave, disgusted, but that only gave him a better view of my smooth boy butt wagging back and forth as my Turkish coach fed me a load of his babies. It seemed like a week’s worth of spooge was being pumped into me. It was all my fault of course, if I hadn’t sucked so hard he would never have jizzed in my mouth. How would the poor guy be able to live with himself after squirting a load in a student’s mouth?

Speechless, Dad stormed out of the room in a huff before I could explain. It’s not every day you get caught under your immigrant coach’s desk with his enormous pornstar-sized cock all the way down your throat but I knew Dad would understand. It got stuck, that’s all… and it’s perfectly understandable for a dick that big to easily get stuck in a tight teen throat like mine. Coach Celik looked totally relaxed as I stood on shaky legs (I had been crouched down there for around half an hour, after all) and wiped some of his nut off my chin. ‘Sorry Coach… and thanks for the jockstrap!’ I mumbled, giving him my trademark dumb grin as I ran out the door to catch up with Dad.

The Dumb Horny Jock series is written by CJ, a young Australian guy who you should definitely reach out to if you enjoyed this story. And it’s published over at the Nifty Archive. You can find all of the other Dumb Horny Jock installments here.

The header image and photo illustrations feature the gorgeous Ezequiel Carrone, shot by the obscenely talented @rafa.pics.

Follow Dumb Horny Jock on tumblr, if you’re so inclined. The aesthetic there is shockingly close to what you’d imagine, reading this story.

-t