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Peter Parker is known for being a slut at Midtown High. He sleeps with a new person every day, sometimes two. He likes sex, who cares? It isn’t hurting anybody. It started when he turned fifteen. Peter, sweet, innocent, science pun shirt wearing Peter lost his virginity to a guy he met in his summer robotics class. The guy never spoke to him again, but it started a fire in Peter’s sex drive. He just couldn’t get enough. The boy was changed forever. He replaced the nerdy shirts and baggy jeans with crop tops and pleated skirts. And he started to go out and find guys to fuck him. First, it was guys at the library, the shy and nerdy ones, the ones Peter used to be before that one summer. And then it became every desperate boy in his class, and Peter never refused.
It’s after school and the boy takes his time walking to the boy’s locker room, first stopping to grab some of his textbooks. He doesn’t like being in there when the entire football team is also changing. They’re all fucking pigs. So he waits a few minutes, just until he knows at least half of the team are already on the field. Once he’s inside, the boy goes straight to his locker to change into his practice clothes. He ignores the lustful stares as he pulls down his leggings, revealing a bright pink thong. Some guys whistle, some hoot. Peter rolls his eyes and continues to change. Once he’s finished, he looks down at his watch and realizes he’s three minutes late already. He quickly checks himself out in the mirror and jogs out the door to the track, ignoring the yells to come back and blow me.
“Sorry I’m late girls! Let’s get stretched out right away. The game is on Thursday, so we need to make sure our routine is absolutely perfect.” Oh yeah, he’s a cheerleader; captain to be exact. “Coach Danvers wanted me to tell everyone she will be back by the game, and she apologizes for being absent today. Anyways, stretch yourselves out and make sure you’re hydrated because we’ll be working extra late tonight.” Everyone nods and gets in a circle.
Peter is sitting in the middle splits when one of the asshole jocks calls over to him. “Hey, Parker! Don’t you think those shorts are a little too short? No one likes a whore!” The boy looks over to see Brock Rumlow standing with his dumb posse. He just smirks and stands up.
“That’s not what you said when you were eating my ass last week, Brock.” He calls back, and all of the cheerleaders giggle.
Brock glares and takes a step forward, but the sexiest thing, 37 year old football Coach/phy-ed teacher Tony Stark, yells his name and tells him to run three laps. Peter smiles at the man but he only shakes his head and turns around.
Peter had been openly lusting after that man since he first laid eyes on him. He can’t help himself. Coach Stark is so fucking hot. With his clean-shaved goatee and biceps that stretch his grey compression shirts he wears so often, it was hard not to want him in the nastiest way.
-
The cheerleaders finish practicing an hour after the football team leaves, making sure their routine is absolutely perfect. After they disperse, Peter walks into the locker room and takes a look around to make sure none of the asshole jocks are still there. The coast is clear, shower time! Peter goes to his locker and takes out his mini shower caddy and a towel, and walks to the room of showers. He hates these, hates the huge open space with no privacy, but no one is in here so he’ll survive.
The boy sets his belongings down on the bench next to the showers and freezes when he sees something move out of the corner of his eye. He turns his head and lets out a sigh of relief when he sees none other than Coach Stark in his office, pacing the floor with a phone up to his ear. The boy waits until the man hangs up before he slowly approaches the half open door.
He knocks lightly and the man’s eyes look up from his computer. “Hello, sir.” The boy purrs. Tony rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair.
“What do you want, Parker?” He asks, annoyed. Tony has heard about—and seen—how the teenage boy acts, all fake shy but a total slut. He doesn’t need to be caught up in that, he likes his job thank you very much.
“I just wanted to say thank you for earlier, with Brock. That was really ni-“
“I’m only doing my job, kid. No need for thanks.” He cuts the boy off. Seriously kid, go home. He wants to say. Those slender legs are starting to get distracting. God, why couldn’t this boy be like everyone else?
“No, sir I want you to know how much I appreciate it. All the other adults pretend I don’t exist.” He says, taking a tiny step forward. He has no idea what he’s planning on doing, but I mean, if there was any time to seduce the man it’d be now, right?
The man raises his hand up to stop the boy. “Peter, no. Go home kid. I don’t need your thanks and quite frankly, I don’t want it. I wasn’t doing this out of kindness. Like I said, it’s my job. And I shouldn’t even be speaking with you. I should punish you for your inappropriate behavior outside on the track. And that outfit, Peter. What were you thinking? You should’ve gotten sent home because of this. Now get out before I change my mind and give you detention.” He points to the door and the boy smirks.
“What if I wanted you to punish me?” Peter asks, eyes showing faux innocence.
The man’s eyes narrow and his hands ball up in fists. “I’m going to tell you one more fucking time to get out of my office, or I’ll make it my personal duty to get you kicked off the cheer team and suspended from school.” Peter’s eyes widen at that and he quickly scurries out the door to the showers.
God, Mr. Stark is hot. The boy is thinking that while he undresses himself. When he’s naked, Peter turns on the water and waits for it to heat up. He looks over to the man’s office and blushes when he realizes Coach Stark is watching him through the window. Might as well put on a show. He steps under the stream of water and runs his fingers through his hair, wetting it. He washes his hair slowly, making sure to scratch every inch of his scalp with his sud-covered hands. After that, the boy grabs his pink loofah and pours a generous amount of coconut scented body wash on it. He takes a quick peek over towards the coach’s office and mentally cheers when he sees the man’s eyes are still glued to him. He scrubs his body, little cock rapidly hardening from the heated stare of Mr. Stark.
The boy is fully hard by the time his hand reaches his cocklet. His entire body jolts when he touches his tip with the loofah, from both pleasure and the uncomfortable scratch of the material. He hisses at the touch and drops the fuzzy ball to the shower floor. His hand wraps around his erection at the same time he makes eye contact with the older man, mouth falling open as he lets out a loud, feminine moan.
All he can see is Mr. Stark from the shoulders up, so he doesn’t know that the man is palming his huge erection while he watches. Mr. Stark is fucking pissed at himself for falling into the boy’s trap. He knows he can’t hold off for much longer.
Peter kicks it up a notch when he reaches his free hand around to start fingering at his tight hole. He hisses at the feeling, a little sore from being fucked by a classmate during lunchtime. “Mm Mr. Stark.” He moans, looking straight into the man’s eyes, wrist jacking his little cock faster.
That does it for the man. He quickly stands, an angry glare etched onto his face as he rushes out of his office towards the little minx. The young boy’s eyes widen. Did he go too far? Is Mr. Stark going to drag him out of the locker room, naked for the world to see? All these terrified thoughts evaporate from the boy’s mind as soon as his eyes drift down and spot the unmistakable outline of a hard cock.
He grins, dropping his hands down to his sides as Mr. Stark approaches. But the coach isn’t slowing down his pace. The boy’s eyes widen when the man reaches behind him to slam the shower button to “off” and then grabs him by the throat, shoving him up against the cold tile.
“C-Coach Sta-“ He’s cut off by the man squeezing his throat harder and reaching down to cup his hard cock.
“You’re such a filthy fucking slut, fingering yourself in front of me, an adult more than twice your age.” Peter tries to moan, but the pressure on his throat won’t allow it. He reaches up to grab the man’s large hand, not sure whether to attempt to pry it off, or press harder.
The coach turns the boy around, slamming him back against the wall and spreading his cheeks apart. “I can’t fucking stand you, Parker. Driving me absolutely insane every single day with your skimpy outfits and that stupid fucking baby face of yours.” He smacks the boy’s ass, hard, and practically purrs at the way it jiggles.
“Sir, please.” Peter whines, pushing his ass against the fully clothed man.
The coach turns him back around, glare seemingly permanent on his beautiful face, and pushes him down to his knees. “You better shut the fuck up and start sucking, boy.” He growls, pulling his basketball shorts and boxers down in one go. His cock springs up, nearly smacking the seventeen year old in the face, and Peter’s jaw drops. He’s never had a cock this large, all the boys he’s been with have nothing on the size of Coach Stark.
"Fuck, it's so big." He moans. The man’s cock jabs the back of Peter’s throat before it even gets halfway in, and the boy absolutely loves it. He reaches up to grip the man by the base, but his hand gets smacked away before he could touch. Peter balls his hands up, resting them on his thighs, and opens his mouth wider to allow more of the man's shaft inside.
Tony yanks off his t-shirt, throwing it somewhere behind him and focuses back on the boy sucking his cock. He tangles his fingers in Peter’s hair, gripping so hard his head whips back. He cries out and looks straight up, tear filled eyes blinking up at him. “Go ahead, slut. Show me what those lips were made for.” He slams his hips forward, balls slapping the boy’s chin obscenely, and Peter moans. He sticks out his tongue and forces more of the huge cock into his mouth.
Tony wants to punish the little shit, show him how fucking angry he is, so he pulls the boy's face flush against his groin, cock forcing its way down the poor kid's throat. Peter chokes and tries to pull away, but the man is too strong. "Fuck!" He yells and yanks the boy's hair hard enough to burn, but Peter doesn't mind. The boy gasps for air as soon as his throat is empty, and he looks up at the man in front of him.
The coach leans his head down, face just mere centimeters from the kid's. "I wanted to rip Brock's fucking head off for what he said to you." He murmurs, suppressing a smirk at the stunned expression on the boy's face. He lets his angry act subside for a split second as he pecks the boy's lips, but quickly stands and pulls the boy's mouth back onto his cock, hips thrusting lightly.
He pushes his thumb into the boy's mouth along with his shaft, stretching Peter's thin lips even more. "Look at you," He coos, eyes skimming over the boy's face. "So fucking pathetic." Peter whimpers, squeezing his thighs together as the man removes his finger from his mouth, a thin string of saliva connecting the two.
"Make me feel good, slut." Peter slides his hands up and around the man's legs to rest on the back of his thighs and gets to work, bobbing his head back and forth, taking as much as he possibly can. He gags around the cock in his mouth, but the man's low moans encourage him to keep pushing. Peter goes until his nose is brushing the man's pubic hair, trying his hardest to not pull away. He coughs, eyes squeezing shut to stop the tears from dripping down his face. After a few seconds, Tony groans deep in his throat and rips the boy off of his cock.
Peter gasps heavily, eyes hazy. "W-What did I do?" He asks, attempting to catch his breath, voice utterly ruined.
Tony just chuckles and pulls the boy onto his feet. He turns him around, and gently presses Peter against the shower wall, his hand finding its way to the boy's tight furl. His finger easily slides in, and the boy mewls lightly. "Gonna let me in, Pete? Gonna let this old man fuck your little hole?" Peter chokes on his spit and throws his head back against the man's shoulder.
"Oh my god, please sir! Fuck, please Mr. Stark." The tears Peter tried desperately hard to keep in begin to fall down his cheeks, the boy too overwhelmed about the entire situation. Tony adds a second finger, and then another one, stretching the teen's hole out, fingers curling upwards, searching for that bundle of nerves.
He knows he finds it when the boy's entire body jolts, knees buckling. "Ah, there it is." Tony purrs. He presses his fingers harder against the boy's prostate, relishing in the way Peter moans his name.
The boy can't take it anymore. "C-Coach, Mr. Stark--please fuck me, please." He cries out, grinding down onto the man's thick fingers. Tony pulls them out slowly and turns him around.
"You want me to fuck you, boy? Want this thick cock splitting you open?" Peter bites his lip and nods his head furiously. "I need words, kid. Tell me what you need." Tony demands, rubbing circles on the boy's narrow hips.
"W-Want your th-thick cock splitting me open, s-sir. Need it, please." He whimpers, hand reaching out to stroke the coach's dripping arousal in light tugs.
Tony leans in and licks the boy's red lips lightly, emitting a small whine from the boy's throat. "Well, since you asked so nicely." He guides the boy over to the bench near the showers, and bends him over it. He spreads the boy's cheeks and spits directly into his hole, then licks his palm to slick up his cock before lining up with his tiny hole. "Gonna fuck you so good, baby." Peter whines at the name and impatiently moves his hips back against Tony's cock.
The man can't wait any longer either, so he slowly pushes in, moaning at how easily his cock slips in. When he's halfway in, he doesn't want to go slow anymore, so he snaps his hips sharply, sliding the rest of the way in. Peter chokes on a moan, not expecting the man to go rough so quickly, but enjoying it nonetheless.
Coach Stark starts roughly fucking the boy, already so close to the edge after all of the teasing. The teen becomes a moaning mess within seconds, unable to control himself. "Please sir, fuck me, fuck me harder, Mr. Stark!" Tony releases one of Peter's hips to wrap around his dripping cocklet, stroking in time with his thrusts.
"Gonna come for me? Peter? Make a big mess of yourself?" He grunts into the boy's sweaty skin.
Peter cries out in agreement, seconds from letting go. He loses it when the man digs his nail into his slit right as he pounds the boy's prostate. Peter yelps, come shooting out all over the bench and down the coach's hand. His arms soon give out, and the only thing holding his lower body up is the man, who grips his side tighter and pounds into the boy's hole like his life depends on it.
"God damn, Parker, you're so fucking sexy." He growls, hips slammed up against the boy's body. He stills, and releases deep into the boy's hole, thick white ropes coating his walls. He drapes his body across the smaller's, and breathes deeply.
After a few moments, Tony slowly pulls out of the limp boy, moaning quietly at the way his cum drips out, sliding down Peter's shaking legs. He takes one last look at the boy before collecting his clothes and dressing himself quickly. He walks into his office to collect his things, eyeing the nearly passed out boy through the window. As he walks out, he goes straight to leave, not giving the boy another look. "Get showered, dirty boy. And make sure you turn the lights off when you leave."
Peter gapes at him from the bench, but weakly calls back, "Y-Yes, sir."