It's a Growing Sport part 4

The entire time I followed behind my coach's car I couldn't get his bloated gut out of my head. The way it pushed tight against the fabric of his shirt, the way it started to roll over his belt, and especially with him being a total daddy type of a man. I couldn't help it, I had to pull my cock out of my pants and stroked the entire drive.

I managed to shoot, all over my steering wheel mind you, just before coach turned into his driveway. I hurriedly tucked my dick away and used the box of tissue in my passenger seat to clean up my mess. Even going as far as wiping at my shirt and pants, just in case.

I pulled in next to coach's car and we both got out and headed inside. His house was nice, nothing crazy fancy. A single floor blue and white house, big enough for three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a two car garage. Stepping into the living room I saw that it sat off from the kitchen and dining area. It had sofa, a lounging chair, and a 60" flat screen TV on a dark wooden stand. The kitchen itself had several bags of groceries sitting on the counter, and a few more on the dining table.

"Just ignore the groceries, and follow me," he said as he lead the way the hall. I didn't hesitate. We passed the guest bathroom, and a bedroom, before stopping on front of two doors. "The door on the left is the master bedroom, stay out of there. This is my home gym."

He opened the door on the right to reveal the weights and benches, and pressing machines. He ushered me in and showed me around a bit. "I want you to do all the regular lifting you do during practice workout sessions, but only the ones you can do alone, as I'll be in the kitchen working on it next routine meal. When you do the lifting, go up one set of five for each set. After that, go up five pounds and do half your regular set. I'll be back in in a few."

Knowing exactly what he was meaning when it came to lifting, I gave him a nod as he left the room, and I began. While lifting my first set I could hear the plastic bags in the kitchen being rummaged through, and the clatter of things being put away. By the time I was finishing my last set I heard the blender start and rub for a few seconds before shutting off. When I finished, coach came into the room with the blender pitcher full of a brown cream and holding a large cup. He filled the cup with half the liquid and handed it to me.

"Drink up, this is what the gym rats call a power shake, but I prefer to call it a gainer shake. It's packed full of calories and protein, it'll fuel your gains. Drink what you can." As he spoke I did my best to swallow the creamy fluid. It was thick and cold like a milk shaky at the ice cream parlor. It took me several minutes to empty the cup, being that I was still pretty full from the buffet. When he saw I was finished he offered the blender forward. "Think you can drink the rest? It should fill your cup once more."

I shook my head and held my stomach. "I'm sorry coach, UURRP, but no. I'm still full from the buffet. I feel like if I eat or drink anymore then I'm going to hurl."

"Fair enough," he shrugged before he himself began drinking directly from the pitcher. I don't know how he could keep going, but within seconds the pitcher was empty. He let out a deep throated belch as he walked to the kitchen and came back. "Now, as the shake is digested and fills your system you'll begin to feel more energy. I want you to use this to do some squats. Grab the 50 lb weight and do ten. After that we'll get you lifting with the bar, I'll spot you."

"What about you," I asked as I picked up the 50 lb disk and began my squats. "Since you drank the shake, aren't you going to lift as well?"

He waved it off, "nah, I work out plenty as it is on my own. I'll work it off later."

We proceeded from my squats to the bench. We put 100 lbs on both sides to start me off. When I laid down and grabbed the bar, coach came and stood above my head. His crotch was so close to my face, and when he squatted to help guide the bar I watched his bloated gut lower toward me. I started imagining what it would be like if he had a bigger gut and dropped it on my face with every squat. What if when he stood, his balls and dick brushed against my face. I could feel my cock rapidly stiffening on my pants once again. I panicked. I pushed the bar into the locked position and stood up quickly.

"I-I need to use the restroom," I stammered as I hurried down the hall and closed the bathroom door behind me. I didn't hesitate to take out my throbbing rod and stroke it furiously.

It took me several minutes to finish. I did my best to clean up my mess and throwing the tissues into the toilet and flushing. I steadied myself before heading back into the gym room. Coach was flexing in the mirror while he lifted a single weight. Noticing me he set it down and smiled.

"Ready to get back to it?"

I nodded. The next couple hours were filled with more lifting and exercises. During most of it I had to keep my eyes closed to avoid daydreaming about seeing my coach over me. Coach bounced back and forth from the room to "prep lunch and ready dinner" he stated. Which was good, because all this exercise was getting me hungry.

Before we prepared to eat lunch we took an hour break, watching a TV show called Stargate, letting my muscles calm down a bit. All the while I noticed that when coach went into the kitchen he'd grab something to snack on, like bread or pretzels, he nearly constantly had something in his hand.

Lunch came and went. Pasta with meatballs and hot dogs. I managed to eat a large and a half, feeling more full than I thought I would after the work out. Coach managed to eat three full plates, before he conceded and we put the rest away for later. He said we would finish it off for dinner with the chili.

We waited another half hour before we went back into the gym room. Coach stated it would just be for fun, to work on what I missed earlier, like doing pull ups. We were only in here for another hour, and I noticed that coach didn't lift a single thing. He was either spotting me, with his bloated gut nearly bumping my face, or he was running out of the room to check on the chili for dinner and reheating the noodles.

By the time dinner rolled around I could barely eat. I finished one plate. Coach finished two this time. How he could keep going was beyond me. At the point of clean up, coach's gut was so bloated that he was looking nearly 7 months pregnant, even his shirt had a small inch of it that had come untucked.

At the end of the night coach patted me on the back with a large UUUUURRRP! "Damn, Fletcher. You can really pack it away. But you have a long way to go if you want to make linebacker." He began ushering me toward the front door. "That's the basic routine for you from now on. Meet me at the buffet tomorrow morning again, same time, and we'll start again. Got it?"

"Yes coach, I'll see you tomorrow," I said with a nod and smile as I stepped out the door. "And thank you again for doing this for me."

"It's my pleasure," he said with his own handsome smile that made me swoon. "Now get out of here, I'm gonna catch up on that Stargate show. I'll see you tomorrow."

He closed the door and I headed to my car. Eager to get home and rub another out to another fantasy of coach.

I couldn't wait for tomorrow to come.