As a wrestling coach, you keep an eye on your boys. You have to. They're still young and need a firm hand. When Bradley joined us mid-season, I knew there was something wrong right away. He was quiet and painfully shy. And although he seemed like he wanted to join in on the shenanigans my boys got up to, Bradley was still distant. Still, Bradley won match after match, besting even his hunkier teammates. He was more focused and less distracted with girls. His strategy aroused my curiosity, as well as my cock. Bradley started off in a more submissive position, on all fours. I could tell his opponents thought they would win. But then Bradly would backdoor them, taking them by surprise. Each wrestler would shuffle away and hide his shame, but none could hide their raging, visible boners. Neither could Bradley. And neither could I. During an away match with the wrestling team, I encourage the other boys to become tourists while I stayed behind with Bradley. Before I knew it, I did the one thing I swore I would never do. Still, Bradley promised to keep his mouth shut and seemed eternally grateful for all the attention I gave him, and his cock.