Was It Really Losing

Javen hated losing, particularly since he knew what it meant.  It meant he was going to have to spend another night with the coach getting a pussy cored-out between his butt-cheeks.  The coach had instituted the new regimen at the start of the season, and it had worked wonders in getting all of them to wrestle their best.  None of his teammates enjoyed getting dicked and even though it had happened to every one of them, it had generally taken only one loss - and one night in the coach’s bed - to convince them that losing just wasn’t a viable option.  

This was going to be Javen’s fifteenth time with the coach - the most, by far, of any of the guys on the team.  But, Jeez, it wasn’t his fault.  Two of the top three State-ranked wrestlers in his weight class were on local teams and it seemed like he was constantly wrestling against one of them.  He’d actually won a pair of matches against the two State-ranked wrestlers but, by and large, when he faced one of them, he lost - and then he got fucked.

Already, he knew his teammates were beginning to refer to him as ‘the coach’s bitch cum dump.’  Fuck, man, they’d all been fucked at least once - what did that make them?  It wasn’t his fault that he was constantly up against superior opponents.  He was doing the best he could.   It just wasn’t fair.  Yeah, he was gonna get his ass fucked again tonight, but it wasn’t fair.  And it didn’t make him the coach’s bitch, even if all the other guys seemed to think so.  It didn’t.  It didn’t.   Even if he had begun thinking of his asshole as his ‘pussy,’ even if he’d boned up the last two times the coach fucked him and creamed himself while he was getting dicked, it didn’t make him the coach’s bitch.  It just didn’t.  Did it?