I join the rugby team, and coach knows how to treat my injuries.
When I was 14, I joined an after school rugby club. I’d never done it before but figured I needed to try new things and if I’m honest, the thought of seeing other guys covered in mud excited me. On my first day the coach demonstrated some techniques on me. I don’t remember what they were called I just remember him pulling tight on the back of my shirt and pushing down on my arse cheeks.
Next session we played a proper game full contact. One last 2 years older than me and built like a brick shithouse slammed right into me from behind, and knocked me onto the floor. My face slammed into the mud and I started to get up a hard boot kicked me right up the arse. It hurt like a motherfucker. Coach blew the whistle and came over. He helped me hobble up and took me off to the locker room whilst the game carried on.
When we got there I stood while he filled out an accident form. I couldn’t sit. Then he turned to me and said “The nurse is sick today. Ironic init. Do you want me to take a look instead?”
I didn’t know what to say. I was in pain.
“Okay”
He got up and we walked to his office. He had a desk, chair, and a table in one corner with a first aid kit.
“I’ll lock the door so no one walks in.”
I nodded. He patted the table and signalled me to get on. I layed straight on my front. My arse couldn’t bear the pain of sitting.
“Can you pull your shorts down for me please.” he said.
I gritted my teeth and did as he said.
“Shit,” he said, “Most of the other lads wear jockstraps, means I can deal with injuries like this without taking your underwear off.”
I didn’t own a jockstrap. Just boxers.
“I can just cover it with my hand,” I said.
“Yeah okay.”
I stood back up and eased off my boxers, cupping my package with the other hand. I layed back down.
He learnt over and examined my cheeks.
“They’re pretty badly bruised. I can only suggest you rest them for a few days.”
It wasn’t like my arse was used a lot. Yet.
“How about your… you know…. balls?” he said.
“I think they’re fine.” I said.
“I can check them over for you?”
I nodded. At 14 my balls were still smooth, but my mind was on his balls. Picturing them covered in sweat. Hairy. Dangling. Bouncing. All the things my young tight balls couldn’t do yet.
I turned over for him, still cupping my cock, but letting my balls hang out. His rough hand touched my ballsack. He didn’t feel like he was examining. He felt like he was playing. I don’t know why but I moved my hand off my cock. It stood up on its own.
“I can examine that too?” He said.