one of my times with sex at gym… I snuck into school after hours. this was before cameras and Columbine. entering through a side-back door that brought me right into the gym and locker rooms. there were typically one or two custodians at this time of night. my plan was, if ever approached or asked, my prepared answer was that I left a book in my athletic locker. making my way into the football locker room (football locker room was separate from the PE lockers, basketball and track). today I bypassed the players lockers and laundry room, and made my way to the coaches office. I don’t believe they ever locked up their office, for that matter anything in the locker rooms. I had been inside the coaches office hundreds of times before. however this time was different. feeling naughty, horny, and devious. the coaches office had the typical alluring fragrance of the players locker room, but it was different. the coaches office produced this lingering wafting of Old Spice, with a slight hint of cigar. My dick immediately woke up and started to tingle. reaching down, I pulled on, rubbed and groped my package. like most of the players would do, subconsciously. being in the coaches office, alone, had a completely different aura. both a sense masculinity and virility, something I never quite felt on the students side of the locker room. and I felt more like a boy than a teenager breaching this inner sanctum of my coaches domain. looking around, nothing seemed different or new. there were four metal desks, like what a teacher would have. there were a row of six large sized, built in wood lockers that were completely open. no doors, just two shelves. on the other side of the room was a side room. never had I been this far into the coaches office. this area was new to discover. this room had one urinal and one toilet, neither had any partitions or doors. they were just attached to the wall. across from that were two sinks with mirrors. at the end of the room was an open gang shower room. maybe ten feet by ten feet, with four shower heads, two on each side. again, my dick immediately woke up and started to tingle. reaching down, I pulled on, rubbed and groped my package. not to be cliche, but I felt like a boy in a candy store… excited, overwhelmed, and not sure where to start and what I wanted. turning back from the shower and bathroom I was standing back in the middle of the coaches office. earlier I had not really noticed as I was my senses were on overload, but this office was a complete mess. desks were covered with piles of papers, binders and notebooks. what looked like new athletic gear, samples. a few whistles, footballs, a random cone, a helmet, random trophies. the wooden open lockers were full of clothing. items hanging up, very few things folded. the top shelve had toiletries and I did spot two bottles of Old Spice. clothing were piled up in the last shelve, spilling over, and the bottom had shoes. cleats, running shoes, and a few shoe boxes. the last locker on the far end was the worst. my mom would have had my hide if that were my closet. immediately I passed all of the other coaches lockers and walked up to the messy and overflowing locker with the name FRANK written in sharpie on masking tape. this was coach Frank’s locker! he was my favorite coach. not because of his coaching style and ability, but I was infatuated with him. he was by far the most masculine and intimidating coach. another reason why I was obsessed with coach Frank, was his package. never had I ever seen such a pronounced bulge on a man. it always looked as though he had a softball stuffed inside his coaches shorts. to me, it seemed coach Frank was always scratching, adjusting, and rubbing that huge bulge of his. this was jackpot. a literal pile of gold. there was actually a two to three foot pile of athletic gear that cascaded from the locker onto the floor. was I gravitated to this one because of the abundance of artifacts, the most potential for finds… or perhaps there would be no way coach would miss anything because it was a never ending plethora of goods. or knowing it was coach Frank’s locker and gear, all of my dreams have come to fruition. standing there, in front of his locker I became nervous. my heart was beating fast, I felt that stir and tingle of my dick. it was as though my hearing was lost and all I could do was hear my breathing and my senses heightened again, and the manly smells brought back forefront. next thing I knew I had dived into his pile of clothing and athletic gear. again, kid in candy store, searching, exploring, and not sure where to begin or what I wanted. my unsureness lasted all of five seconds. there it was, his jockstrap. like Indiana Jones, I had found the holy grail. immediately I began to inspect it. it was a classic Bike jockstrap, three inch waistband, a sort of off-white natural color. the label was rectangle with the half blue diagonal half white diagonal logo. the jockstrap size label read extra large. of course it was extra large, there was no surprise in seeing that. however, I immediately felt inadequate as I was still wearing a youth sized large jockstrap for football. you could not tell the difference between my youth sized and my fellow players, other than my pouch was quite a bit smaller. Coach Frank’s jock was still moist and damp. the pouch had been stretched out and moulded like a perfect cast or codpiece of his dick and balls. there were traces of piss, a crusty bit, and a few stray hairs. my dick immediately woke up again and started to tingle. reaching down, I pulled on, rubbed and groped my package. taking my coaches jock, I brought it up to my face, and began to inhale the pouch. an euphoria set in and I was high off my coaches jockstrap. after coming down from the high, I placed the jockstrap to the side and sat down on the floor. beginning to rummage through coach Frank’s pile of goods, I continued my Indiana Jones quest. there was this grey practice shirt with our football team name. it was cutoff like a crop top. it was completely wet, soaked with his sweat. adding that to his jockstrap on the side of the floor. finding a handful of other jockstraps, in various stages of use. there were shorts, shirts, polos, pants, socks, and quite a few white Calvin briefs. taking note to myself for later. next I pulled out a long pair of white football tube socks, and placed them to the side with his shirt and jock. sitting on the floor, inspecting the articles of my coaches gear, I stood up. without comprehending, I began to undress. taking off my t-shirt, tossing it aside. pulling off my socks and shoes. lowering my team issued mesh practice shorts. now I was standing there in just my pair of briefs. they were a pair of no name brand pale blue briefs, the kind without a white or logo. just all fabric and blue. looking down I could see my stubby with a tiny wet dot. immediately I pulled them down, and now was standing bare ass naked in my coach’s office. reaching for coach Frank’s jockstrap, pulling it again to my face and inhaling, I pulled it on. the pouch was huge. it did not even touch my dick. again, I felt like a boy, wearing a man’s private garment. next, I sat back down on the floor and pulled up the white socks. the socks reached up just at my knee. standing up, I reached for the grey cropped t-shirt and pulled it on. it was hanging off me like a pajama shirt. there was this feeling as though coach Frank had enveloped me and he was there. protecting me and almost fatherly, with a huge sexual urge. A need to belong or be accepted. there was a feeling as though I was honored to be wearing a gladiator’s uniform after he won a match. at this point I was beyond horny, I was delirious. without thought, I walked back towards the bathroom and showers wearing coach Franks’ jock, shirt, and socks. entering the shower room, I began to feel the bottom of coach’s socks absorb the residual water on the tile floor. walking towards the end of the shower room, I slid myself down against the wall, sitting on the tile floor. still feeling vulnerable, there was this protection of being able to see anyone come into the coaches office and ultimately, the bathroom and shower space. furiously, I started rubbing my dick through my coach’s jockstrap. sitting on the floor in the coaches shower room, wearing his socks, jock, and shirt took me over the edge. feeling the fabric roughness and texture of the jock pouch took me over, and I ended up cumming inside my coaches jock. there was a moment where I lost sight and literally saw bits of light through my eyes. immediately after my release, I felt embarrassed, guilty, and fulfilled. what if someone came into the coaches office and found me? what if coach Frank discovered me in the shower, in his t-shirt, socks, and jockstrap? at that moment I was scared, but also relieved. what if coach caught me? maybe he would have embraced me and loved me. perhaps he would have issued me some sort of punishment? sobriety kicked in, and I stood up and hurried back to the office. taking off all of coach Franks’s gear, I reached down for my briefs. thinking… I thought, wait. If I take something of his, shouldn't I leave something for him? taking my briefs, I wiped up any remaining cum using my briefs, and placed them within the pile. also returning his shirt. also leaving his jockstrap that I wore, filled with cum, I placed that on top. pulling on my mesh shorts, freeballing, I collected my socks and shoes, and then threw on my shirt. then I saw a football team issued backpack. grabbing it, I began to fill it with athletic gear. socks, jockstraps, shorts, shirts, even a pair of cleats sized thirteen. then I looked up at coach’s locker and saw a bottle of Old Spice. grabbing it, I threw it into the backpack, and walked out of the coach’s office, back through my football locker room, and out the side door.