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Gary's Story, Part Two
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Gary's Story
Part 2
The force of the sixth swat caused me to lose my balance. I started to
fall forward, but The Coach reached his strong hand under my belly to hold
me upright -
and placed it directly on my throbbing dick.
"Is this turning you on, boy? You like being buck naked, your ass up in
the air getting paddled?"
He grasped my boner in his fist and squeezed.
"Uh.....I....ooh!"
"Yeah, you like it! You want me to paddle you, don't you, boy?"
"No, sir, I-"
"Well, when I'm paddling you, boy, I don't want you thinking of anything
but that paddle coming down on your bare butt. This," he squeezed my cock
again, "is a distraction. Get rid of it!"
"H,how?"
"I don't care! Jerk off if you have to!"
I stood up and began pumping my cock. I was burning with shame. There I
stood jerking off in front of the Coach, my butt still stinging from his
paddle. I felt so humiliated! He grabbed my balls and slowly squeezed. He
was standing so close behind me I could feel his warm breath on my
shoulder.
"Hurry up, boy! I don't have all afternoon and you've got fourteen more
coming.
Fifteen. You didn't count the last one or thank me for it."
He squeezed my balls harder, a sharp agonizing pain that somehow felt
good .
I heard the paddle clatter onto the cement floor behind me. He laid his
free hand on my burning butt; it felt wonderfully cool. Then I felt his
finger pushing between my cheeks, pressing against my butthole. He pressed
harder and harder, pushing his thick, dry finger into me. It was only a
finger, but it felt huge! And it hurt, a sharp pain. It wouldn't slip in
easily, being totally unlubricated, so pushed and jabbed it into my hole;
forcing it in, rasping past the dry sphincter. I moaned, loudly, both
because the penetration was so painful and because it felt so good at the
same time.
The warm pressure of his hand on my balls, squeezing harder and harder,
combined with the feel of his knuckle grating past my sphincter, pushing
further and further up inside me would have put me over the edge. But just
as I thought I was going to come, he simultaneously let go of my aching
balls and yanked his finger out of my ass. I turned around to see him
loose the drawstring of his pants and let them fall to his ankles.
The thick, black fur of his chest narrowed to a thin line down his belly
until it reached the thatch of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband
of his jockstrap.
The head of his cock, dark purplish red, stuck out of the waistband, slick
with precum.
I knelt and flicked it with my tongue, still pumping my own cock. The
Coach groaned and thrust his crotch against my face.
I wanted to suck his cock, wanted him to fuck my mouth and throat. Ever
since I joined the team, I had jerked off thinking of Coach Johnson
fucking my face. God, I wanted it!
However, the Coach had different ideas. He turned away from me and bent
over, spreading his legs, hands gripping his muscular thighs. His ass was
inches from my face. The globes of muscle were covered in dark, downy
hair, growing thicker in the cleft between them. He smelled musky and like
clean sweat, manly and enticing.
"Lick it, boy. Kiss your Coach's ass," he growled over his shoulder.
"Yes, sir! Thank you, Coach!"
I placed a chaste kiss on each furred cheek, the soft hair tickling my
lips, then buried my face between them. The strong aroma of masculine
muskiness was driving me wild. I lapped up the crack, feeling his asshole
tense as my tongue passed over it.
He tasted of sweat, faintly salty. I flicked my tongue across his
sphincter, the wrinkled skin exquisitely soft and sensitive. It reacted
to my tongue, tensing and clenching. I jabbed the tip into his hole; it
clamped down around my tongue and I heard him groan.
He jerked around to face me. The waistband of his jock had been pushed
down beneath his balls. He was madly jerking at his cock - long, tapered
and heavily veined,
the head now a deep, dark purple. With his free hand, He pressed my face
into his crotch and I lapped at his large, oval testicles. He growled deep
in his throat and came. Jism boiled out of his cock, running over his hand
and onto my cheeks, nose and lips. As the hot sticky tide flowed over my
face, I had a wracking, shuddering, agonizing orgasm. It felt as though
the head of my prick exploded! Gobs of milky white cum spattered onto the
floor, Coach Johnson's feet, and the sweat pants wadded at his ankles. He
pressed down on my head until my face was just above his feet.
"Lick it off!" he growled.
Slowly, I licked the top of his feet and down between his hairy toes,
licked up the bitter strands of my own jism.
"Okay, boy, assume the position."
Kicking off the sweat pants, he pulled his jockstrap up and arranged his
cock and balls comfortably within its pouch. He picked the paddle up from
the floor; and I bent over for the remaining swats.
Whoosh. THWACK!
"Six! Thank you, Coach!"
Whoosh. THWACK!
"Seven! Thank you, Coach!"
Each swat was blazing, searing pain across my butt. My sexual arousal had
somehow blunted the pain of the earlier swats. But now, post orgasm, it
was stinging agony. By the third of the fifteen swats, I was crying. Then
sobbing.
Whoosh. THWACK!
"Ow! Oooh, God! Fifteen! Thank you! Coach!"
I stood up. "Please, Coach! I can't take anymore! Please!"
"Well, boy, either you bend over and take the remaining swats, or I tie
you across that desk. But if I have to do that, we'll start over at the
beginning. So which do you want, boy?"
I bent over again, and somehow managed to stay bent over for the last
five swats. I don't know how I managed it - probably absolute terror that
he would tie me across his desk and begin the paddling all over again. It
was the worst spanking I've ever had. My ass felt swollen to twice it's
size. With a paddling, not only does the skin sting and burn, but it aches
deep into the muscles. I was bawling like a baby, sobbing so hard I could
barely count out the strokes or say 'Thank you, Coach'.
Finally, it was over. I stood up and rubbed my butt. My hands felt like
ice against the burning skin. I turned and looked at Coach Johnson through
a blur of tears. He was grinning, even white teeth beneath his thick,
black moustache. I could see that his cock was hard again, straining
against the cotton pouch. He pulled me to him and hugged me. The feel of
his warm body against mine and his hard on pressing against my thigh
started arousing me again in spite of the pain.
"You miss another practice, Gary, and you'll get twice as many swats. And
next time it'll be my cock up that poor little butt, not just my finger.
Do you understand, boy?"
I nodded against his chest, my tears matting the dark fur.
"Good, now hit the showers."
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