My “close encounter” with Mr. Cook left me horny as all get out. I immediately headed for the locker room bathrooms to beat off. Once I got in the stall I grabbed my hand lotion from my backpack and went to town. Unexpectedly I heard the bathroom door open and someone walk in. I froze up and tried to be silent. They locked the door immediately. It had to be an administrator. As they walked to the other end of the room I got a glance through crack in the stall, it was the football coach. My quickly softening dick soon got hard again.
Let me take a moment to describe this guy, Coach Harding, to you. Ten years ago he was the quintessential x-jock: big, muscled, and with a hearty layer of fat. Currently, he is your quintessential fat ass and the butt of all jokes for rival teams. Harding probably weighs close to five hundred pounds. His belly sticks out farther than his arms. For years he had a massive ball gut but as of late it has been getting saggier and saggier, to the point where it occasionally hangs out of his shirt. And he always wobbles around campus with some sort of food in his hands. This type of fat is not what usually gets me going. I like a guy under four hundred pounds. But, whatever Harding was doing, I wasn’t gonna miss out.
After locking both doors Harding pulled off his gym shorts. He walked over to a sink, rested his gut in it, put one hand leaning on the wall, and proceeded to do what I was in the middle of. He could barely reach around to his dick, but that didn’t stop him from trying hard. He was going at it so hard his whole body was jiggling ferociously. Every fat roll was soon glistening with sweat. Eventually I got to going in rhythm with his momentous thrusts. Every fold of his body was bouncing up ad down. Finally, his massive ass clenched and he came. I let myself go at the same time and splattered the stall door. He then cleaned up and just left, as did I. I guess we both just needed that afternoon delight.
I got home that night and gorged myself; images of Mr. Cook dancing through my head. Having that warm belly of his pressed up against me was all the encouragement I needed.
For the next two weeks I kept with the gainer shakes. I would make them in secret every day and then guzzle them before bed. I gained eight more pounds and relished every inch of it. My jeans were finally getting tight and you could totally see my belly through t-shirts. I didn’t look fat by any means, just not a skeleton like I used to be. I also starting noticing more glances from girls when I was out, which is always an ego booster.
The next two weeks in school were particularly weird with Mr. Cook. We made eye contact constantly during the class. We both always looked away quickly, probably for different reasons. I was just nervous and awkward, but I could sense he was holding back because I was a student, despite the fact it would be legal. I knew he liked me, I was convinced of it, but didn’t know how to initiate anything.
By March I weighed almost 170 pounds, which is at the top of the healthy range for my height. It was clear I had put on weight and people were noticing. First, it was my parents. One day while I was stretched out on the couch my Mom walked by, pinched my belly, said “this is new,” and then just kept walking. Although it was awkward, I still took it as a huge compliment. During dinner the next night my dad said: “You’ve filled out, son. Looks good. You look like a man.”
Then, at school, my friends started playfully teasing me. They would grab my miniature love handles and make jokes about how I was “packin’ on the pounds.” I loved all the attention and made even more of an effort to put on weight. I wondered if Mr. Cook was noticing. I hoped he was. Of anybody, he was the person I wanted attention from the most.
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Next time our narrator gives into his impulses with Mr. Cook
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