Top Tryout | LOGAN CROSS | Chapter 3

Logan pressed his hands into the carpet, tightened his core, and pushed his legs up. His ankles flipped above his head, and landed in the waiting grip of Coach Max Romano.

Coach and Logan had grown quite close ever since Logan had started private lessons. The young man was a natural athlete despite his smaller size, so Romano's lessons were more about guidance than instruction. Logan had no experience in handstands whatsoever, yet here he was, nearly capable of one instantly thanks to his excellent balance, mind-muscle connection, and firm core. It didn't hurt any that Logan was enthusiastic and a fast learner.

But handstands weren't the only thing Logan learned from Coach. And it usually wasn't him that was upside-down.

After the Coach concluded their long lesson in flexibility, he asked his student if he'd like a reward. And of course, Logan was quick to say yes — the young man knew what it was he worked for. Coach and Logan tumbled to the couch with firm kisses. Romano's beard was rough against Logan's smooth face, and each kiss felt like sandpaper against his delicate skin. Logan bristled with pleasure.

Coach Romano was a large man, sculpted by sport and nature. He was broad-shouldered and thick; his body covered in the brush of hair. He was quite the counterpoint to Logan's smooth, toned frame – a size difference made all the more apparent when their bodies were against one another. Coach was bigger than Logan, but that didn't matter; size, when it comes to this workout, did not determine who was in charge.

Coach's chiseled hand trailed down Logan's front, tweaked his nipples, and reached the twink's waistband. The mature man pulled the shorts down to reveal a white jockstrap, ribbed with a rough woven texture, and still tart with the flavor of the workout. Coach's fingers grazed the waistband and rubbed firmly over the expanding package. Coach looked up pleadingly into the boy's eyes.

Logan turned his hat backwards, and smirked.

Coach dove in. He buried his face in the jockstrap, breathing deep. His hand kneaded the firm bulge and then wrapped around it. His thumb flicked back-and-forth across the length of the cockhead underneath, and he monitored Logan's expression closely, seeking – and finding – signs of approval. Eventually, Coach fished it out of its cotton prison, and with one hand firmly at the base, he shoved the length into his mouth. He bobbed his head slowly, letting the boy-cock sit in his mouth for a moment before guzzling again. His lips were parted just enough for the tip to pop out at every pass during the blowjob.

Coach Romano was hungry, and as Logan grasped at the back of Coach’s head, it was clear that the twink was more than happy to feed him. He pushed the man's head forward to the hilt. Romano gagged as his student face-fucked him, the taste of velvet salt pounding into the back of his throat.

When Logan finally pulled himself his Coach's mouth, spit and precum hung from the older man's lips.

"It's been a while," Coach said, "since I've shown you proper squat form."

Logan gripped Romano's hips as the big man climbed into his lap. Coach, with practiced motions, guided the twink's cockhead towards his horny rear, and squatted until the boymeat was firmly inside his hole. Coach was used to bouncing on cock, his beefy bottom-cheeks slapping into the lap of his top. It was just so rare, and so welcome, that the twink top was one of the athletes. One of his athletes.

Logan let out a breathless moan when Coach Romano pressed down. The two found a rhythm together, Coach squatting down just as Logan pumped his hips. Their bodies slapped together in sweaty bliss. Logan felt Coach's ass tighten around his cock like a vise, and at that rate, he knew it wouldn't be long until he came. But he wasn't done savaging the older man's hole – Logan wanted more.

The twink pushed the daddy onto the footrest of the couch, laying the large man on his back. He hoisted Coach's legs up and reinserted himself. With eyes locked, he thrust, again and again, barebacking the hairy hole of his instructor. Logan fucked Coach Romano like a wild animal, and reduced the large manly-man to whimpers, moans, and cries of pleasure.

After several minutes of creaking furniture and wild skin-to-skin slapping, Logan arched. He squeezed out a few more thrusts and painted the walls of Coach's rectum with his seed. He pulled out and, with the removal of his cock, a stream of jizz flowed out.

They shared a kiss as they watched their mess drip down the leg of the couch onto the carpeted floor. They made a mess, for sure, but it wasn't the first one they had made together, and if the way things had gone was any indication, it was not going to be the last.