The Calendar Project - Chapter 08

THE CALENDAR PROJECT

Chapter 8: August (Coach Bannon)

I thought I was done with being anxious for the photo-shoots but it was before I had to welcome Coach Bannon in my home.

The least that I could say was that he had left quite the impression on me when we had first met.

Bannon was very tall, quite broad, and intimidating without even trying.

Or maybe he was trying a little?

Incidentally, he had the power to shut down the calendar project at any given moment if he deemed it inappropriate.

Thankfully, and since the very beginning, the Lacrosse coach had been a great supporter of the calendar to the point where he went as far as requesting to be featured.

As I waited for him, a mixture of excitement and nervousness ran through me.

I conditioned myself to be both professional and straight-forward.

I could not revert to being the awkward amateur photographer I used to be.

On the contrary, I had to show that I was used to shoot men in the buff and that I knew exactly what I wanted.

After all, he was the one asking to strip in front of my camera. Now, the coach had to follow my instructions.

He was probably as narcissistic as his players anyway.

He arrived early in the afternoon with a sport bag in his hand. He was wearing a pair of cargo pants and a black sweatshirt.

Coach Bannon was twice my age but he was a stud.

Bye the hunky 21 years-old hunks… And hello the 49 years-old silver fox coach!

“Hello Gabriel.”

He shook my hand firmly.

It almost hurt.

“Hello coach.”

Naturally, just like when he had caught me shooting Jared and Miles in the locker-room, I had called him coach.

It felt right.

“Thank you for agreeing to do this.” He told me.

“My pleasure. As I said, I should have offered you a spot in the calendar from day one.”

“I just think it’s a great way to show the boys I’m fully with them and ready to give myself for the sake of the team.”

“For sure. Wanna drink something?”

“A coffee maybe.”

I poured him a cup and we started chatting about how the college administration had sliced the funds for the Lacrosse team in half and disrespected Bannon’s work for years.

He was still bitter and angry about it but like any good competitive athlete, he intended to prove them wrong.

“They want to get me down but the only thing they’ve managed to do is to lit a fire under my fat ass!”

I smiled but I was under a growing pressure regarding our project.

I had faith in what we were doing but the entire team’s future was lying on how well we would manage to sell the calendars.

Besides, I would be paid only with a share of the revenues, meaning that there was a lot at stakes for me personally as well.

My father had just called to know where I was financially.

I could not be living rent-free in his old house forever.

Anyway, after a coffee and a polite conversation, - although, Bannon was using gross metaphors and swearwords constantly -, it was time to go to the garage and to get things started.

Just like I had done with the other models, I suggested the coach that we take our time until he was comfortable.

I asked him to keep his clothes on for the test shots and to maintain a neutral face.

Apparently, neutral for Bannon meant frightening but I had to admit, he was photogenic.

It felt very different to shoot someone more mature.

It might be cheesy but I could capture much more expression, emotions even, in his blueish eyes.

He had lived and it showed in every wrinkle, minor scars, and grey hair he was sporting.

“Have you ever done that? You’re natural at it.” I complimented him.

It was both a way to know more about him and to give him re-assurance.

“Never. Nearly fifty years on this damn earth and I’ve never been photographed by a professional.”

“Well, I think you’re made for this.”

“You’re buttering me up, Gabriel.”

He smiled.

“No, I’m serious. You look good.”

“For an old fart!”

I chuckled.

“Just look for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

I showed him the first previews.

“I’ve never been a fan of my own face, ya know. Hence, the beard. I’ve had it since my early twenties. But now, it’s all grey… Not even talking about my wrinkles.”

“Don’t you know daddies are in?”

“Daddies?”

“That’s how we call older men.”

“Who is we?”

Shit.

Had he not figured out that I was gay as can be?

I decided to be upfront.

“The gay community, like… When an older man looks good, we call him a daddy. It’s just a popular phrase.”

“Oh. So that’s a compliment?”

“Yes, it is!”

“Thank you, I suppose.”

I was slightly embarrassed.

“Should we continue with the shooting?”

“Of course. Do I take my clothes off now?”

Whether my model was in his early twenties or late forties, this remained my favorite moment.

The big reveal.

“You can take your top off and we can try a couple poses shirtless.”

“You got it.”

Coach Bannon took a few steps back and removed his sweatshirt and tank top in one go.

He displayed an appetizing muscular dad-bod.

The abs, biceps, and pecs were still there, only slightly less shredded than in his youth.

Patches of salt and pepper hair were running through his chest. He had very darkish and prominent nipples.

“Thank you, coach. Now, go back to where you were and I’ll take more pictures. You can simply stand and look straight at the camera.”

He rubbed his chest before striking the pose.

I already knew that the picture we would choose for the calendar would look great.

Bannon was a hottie but he also looked like your best mate’s father.

See, he was altogether sexy as hell and the older man next door. Relatable but attractive.

“I’ve never been a fan of my face but I’ve always been happy with my body. I’m working my ass off to keep in shape.”

“It definitely shows.”

“I know.” He said, getting cocky.

I was snapping dozens of pictures.

“Would you flex for the camera?”

“I’ll flex for you, Gabriel.”

Whether he was trying to get me horny on purpose or he was simply being himself, I was turned-on when he started flexing his biceps and feeling up his own pecs.

“Maybe you can take off the pants as well?”

“I can. Not my type to miss legs’ days.”

He slid down his cargo pants while he was still standing in the frame of the camera.

And right there, he offered me the best surprise of the day.

The man was wearing a pair of grey jockstraps under his pants!

I was flabbergasted when he revealed the beige pouch (prominent and large) surrounding by bushy pubic grey hair coming out from the sides.

I could perceive his balls and penis underneath the fabric without actually seeing them.

A darker waistband was surrounding his waist.

“Nice underwear.”

I could not help myself from commenting.

“I’ve been wearing jockstraps since college. Best way to keep the junks in place and to feel comfortable.”

Obviously, I was hard as a rock as I looked at him flexing some more.

“Could you… Could you turn around?”

“Wanna shoot my fat ass?”

“I… I mean…”

“Hey, I personally don’t care but I don’t think my bum looks too great. I don’t trim. I’m very hairy down there.”

“That’s fine.”

More than fine, actually, my favorite. But I kept my mouth shut.

“My wife’s always telling me my crack is the fucking Amazonian forest!” He exclaimed while turning around.

And indeed, his butt was one of the hairiest I had seen.

But damn it, I would have gone through the salt and pepper thick hair to explore that crack any day of the week.

“Just keep the pose, I think it looks good.”

“Will it not be too much for the calendar? I don’t wanna get fired.”

This was also a concern of mine.

To be fair, in his pair of jockstraps, contracting his muscles, and putting his hands behind his head, the picture looked pretty salacious and very gay.

“We’ll try other options. We can decide at the end which one we’ll include in the final project.”

“I think the administration will be fine with a bit of nudity from the boys, hell, they may love it, but from a member of the staff, they might make a fuss just to piss me off!”

“Why would they go against you?”

“Argh. They’ve been trying to fire me for years. A bunch of elitist bastards.”

I did not know how much of that was true. Coach Bannon was hard to read sometimes.

“No need to worry about that. We can take a bunch of pictures and even submit the photographs to the board to make sure you’re...”

He cut me off.

“Never! If we give them a right to choose or to veto, we’ll find ourselves with a freaking book made for prudish nuns. We’ll just go with something a bit less daring for my own picture.”

“That’s also fine with me, coach. Do you have a specific idea in mind?”

“I brought a few shorts in my bag.”

“That could work.”

Bannon walked to his bag and, thank God, he bent over to pick it up.

The hairy crack opened up but it was too dark and too hairy to see anything of his virgin hole.

I would have died to shove my nose (and more) in this Amazonian forest.

“I have a few pairs here, some boxer briefs too.”

He showed me the clothes he had brought. Good choices.

“I think we can go with this simple pair of white shorts.”

Immediately, he put the shorts on.

Something was bothering me though.

The pouch of his jockstraps was making the crotch looked weird and I did not know what to do with the waistbands since I wanted Bannon to wear his bottoms low.

“How does it look?” He asked.

“Great; Although, I’m not such a fan of the jock underneath it, I think it would look better without.”

“Really?”

“Sorry, maybe I’m just a perfectionist.”

“I am too! Let’s get rid of the underwear then.”

Wow. I really just had to ask.

Bannon pulled down the shorts, took them off completely, and then, he slid down the jockstraps he was wearing.

No modesty. No intimacy. No shame.

He exposed his fat hairy cock only a couple feet away from me. Despite the hair everywhere, his junks looked massive.

I was in awe of every prominent blue vein, every inch of flesh, every slight movement the penis was making as it was dangling between the thighs.

The coach was packing and he knew it.

How many sport’s teams had he been part of?

How many of his teammates had seen him naked in the course of his life?

There, I considered that I should have given sport a better chance.

Shameless men, changing and showering next to me, that was what I needed more of in my daily life.

I admired the large genitals but the moment was cut short way too soon.

A few seconds later, Coach Bannon was back in front of my camera in his white shorts, although going commando.

Now that he was clearly more at ease, I asked him to take more fun or daring poses.

At first, he performed silly karate moves, but then, we got something to work with when he started squatting down.

“Yes, just like that, coach. Look straight at the camera. You can put your hands on the ground as if you were about to crawl towards me. Yes, that’s it! Exactly! I love your attitude here.”

Who knew 50 years-old men could be so much in shape… And so slutty?!

Not only I wanted the Lacrosse coach to crawl towards me, but I wanted him to ravage me.

He exuded some strong Alpha male energy.

And it was not fabricated like Dylan who was doing the most to provoke and be noticed at all costs.

Coach Bannon did not need any trick or gimmick, his authentic self was enough.

Probably a perk of maturity.

I showed him the last pictures I had taken and he seemed to agree that those could be the ones featured in the calendar.

“The board cannot have a problem with that. Good job, Gabriel.”

“But do you like yourself on these shots?”

“I do. The lighting is great.”

“It wasn’t my question.”

“What are you doing? Am I supposed to say that I love myself? Are we in fucking therapy?”

“You could say that you love yourself on this picture. In fact, you should, yes!”

“You’re a funny guy, Gabriel. Does this mean we’re done?”

“Yes, I think so.”

Bannon extended his hand towards me.

“Well, thank you for your time.”

I could have given him a hand shake and moved on.

I was frustrated though.

I had not had enough time with his bare genitals.

“Unless, of course, you want to take a few more shorts in the buff to experience what your players have gone through? It could be a good way to show them your commitment even if, of course, we don’t use those shots publicly.”

He seemed to be considering it.

He was also scratching his balls through his shorts.

“I guess that it could be an experience! It’s not like I’ve ever been a modest guy anyway. I’m no pussy.”

“Okay then, prove it to me, coach!”

Being that daring did not sound like me, however, the past couple of weeks had changed me more than I realized.

I was more assertive and confident.

I was probably much hornier too. The effect of hanging around with so much naked studs.

“Should I go back to my spot?”

“Yes, you can redo the same poses… without anything on.”

Bannon bit his lips.

“You have fun doing this, aren’t you?”

“Don’t you have fun coaching your team?”

“Of course, I do! What else would I have chosen this job otherwise?! I hate the people who always complain about their lives as if they couldn’t do anything about it. We’re in America for God’s sake, land of the Free!”

“Well, if that answers your question, I love my job too.”

“I get it.”

Coach Bannon was largely smiling at me when he, once again, stripped down.

Yeap, I had not made up something in my head. He was truly gorgeous in his birthday suit and that cock was certainly one to worship.

I wondered if he had not trimmed in a while or if he had simply never taken on that bad habit.

The older generation was not so keen to shave their body hair. Such a shame that men my own age, especially gay men, were so prompt to get rid of their natural fur.

I went back behind the camera and I started shooting.

Nude, the coach gave me quite a show.

He flexed his biceps, his glutes, he messed around with his martial arts moves again, and he squatted down.

His balls were hanging so low in this position.

I asked him to turn around and then, I had his pale hairy ass, - the crack wide opened in the squatting position -, exposed in front of me.

I could finally enjoy a good view of his asshole.

I do not think I would ever be able to thank Lauren enough for dragging to that frat party a couple weeks earlier!

I took hundreds of pictures and short videos of the coach’s generous anatomy.

Because he looked comfortable, and just like his athletes, he seemed more than willing to show off for me, I got closer for some more personal shots.

Sure, I did not record him jerking off and he did not nut in my face like Dylan.

Still, it became very erotic as I was inches from his warm naked body and Bannon happily stroke more provocative poses.

In the last one, he was sitting on the floor but spreading his legs apart and flipping me the middle finger.

That was entirely his idea.

“I’ll send this one to the administration the day they will indeed find a reason to fire me.” He joked.

“I bet they’ll love it.”

“Ah! I wouldn’t be surprised; the board is full of fag… Uh. Sorry. Didn’t mean to say that.”

Given the fact that he had just crawled around my garage on all fours, I could deal with a derogative slur.

“Only the men who are fucking me roughly get to call me a faggot.” I told him.

I was playing with fire there.

“I’ll think about it twice before I say it again then.”

He was mindlessly playing with his cock as he talked.

I suppose this has nothing to do with age. At 20 or at 50, men cannot stop themselves from touching their own junks anytime they have the chance.

It must be a primal instinct of some sort.

I photographed Coach Bannon for more than three hours in total.

It was my longest shoot to date.

I captured close-up of his armpits (obviously, they were very hairy) and of his nipples.

I photographed his pubic hair and his cock.

I asked him to stand up, I lied beneath him, and I shot his asshole from below.

Gradually, the pictures had gotten more outrageous but at no point, Bannon had seemed shocked or uncomfortable.

Quite the opposite in fact, he was more and more into it.

When it was finally time for him to leave, he asked me to send him absolutely every single picture that we had taken.

“What are you going to do with these?”

“I’d just like to know how I look, Gabriel. You’ve caught me under every single angle there. Never gotten the chance to see me like that.”

I almost told him that I still had not gotten him erected but Bannon was already changing back into his casual clothes and I had already pushed all the limits that I had set for myself.

Had I really stayed professional?

Hell, we had the pictures for the calendar and that was all that mattered in the end.

The other stuff we had shot, well, Bannon could do whatever he wanted with them.

Maybe he would do like Dylan or Wayne and sold them to the best buyers?

There would be many interested clients for sure.

Before he left, the coach gave me a rather surprising warm hug.

“Again, thank you very much for what you’re doing for the team. I want to see you at the first row at our next competition. If we can ever go there, it’ll be because of your work.”

“Of course, coach, I’ll be happy to attend a competition.”

“I think you’re seeing Andrew next?”

“That’s right.”

“He’s one of the best of the team and quite the girls’ magnet himself. I’m sure September will be a stunning picture as well. The whole calendar is going to look fantastic.”

“I hope so. Thanks, coach.”

Funny to think it was the first time in my life I had the opportunity to call anyone coach.

For real, I had missed the ball with my lack of interest for sports (no pun intended).