Boner by buck cooper
Teachers and coaches in high school talk a lot about identity formation.
Mine - it started with a boner. My eighteen-year-old penis straight up like a steel rod in my pants. The other kids were getting ready to leave the cafeteria -- but I couldn't. I couldn't get up from the table without them all seeing my erection.
The fact that everyone was talking about the new tennis coach might make my cafeteria stiffie reasonable. Coach DaSilva was hot! Thirty-two years old (so we guessed), broad shoulders, about 6 feet tall, dark brown eyes, killer smile, bedroom lips. It seemed you could always make out the thick head of his cock through his tennis shorts. But most of all, it was Coach DaSilva's intensity that was so sexy. There was something both commanding and devilish in the way he looked you in the eye when he talked to you. And it was a thrill to watch him play tennis... those legs... those arms. Coach DaSilva played with such ferocity that his tennis shirt would become drenched in sweat. Through the translucent, wet fabric, you could see his sexy, dark chest hair.
DaSilva's coaching was just as intense. During practice, he always seemed to be watching me - like I was singled out. He would approach, put his arms around me - his sweaty body pressed up to mine - as he instructed a better hold on the racket -- or a better swing. Sometimes he would be pressed so close - that I could literally feel his cock-head pressed into the crack of my ass.
After practice, my teammates would tease, pretending to be me, bending over, "Oh Coach! Show me again!" They would wiggle their butts. I'd always blush, my face a dead give-away about how hot and bothered Coach got me.
Coach DaSilva was one hellava sexy motherfucker. I'm telling you -- every girl wanted to be fucked by him -- every guy wanted to have his respect. Yes, thinking of Coach DaSilva would give anybody a hard-on.
But it wasn't just thinking how fucking sexy DaSilva was that made my dick this fucking hard.
You see, one of my teammates at the table was telling about Coach's first day here. He was telling how he helped Coach move in to his office. My teammate was unloading one of the coach's gym bags and out fell a hairbrush. All the guys at the table laughed at this. I didn't get it.
I asked, "So what's the big deal about a hairbrush?"
The guys all laughed at me.
"It's not the kind of hairbrush you use for hair."
I honestly didn't know what they were talking about.
"Whatdya mean -- not for hair?"
"Andy -- c'mon dude - it's the kind of hairbrush you use to spank someone."
That's when I got stiff. My penis like steel.
Why would the thought of Coach spanking someone make me hard?
The guy's laughed, pushed back their chairs and started to leave. I sat trapped, motionless, I couldn't stand or they'd see my boner!
A spanking? And I get hard? I never even had a spanking before.
But another erection happened later that afternoon. This time at the mall. I was in the changing room of A&F and was finishing trying on a new pair of khakis. I pulled the khakis down, stepped out of them. I was standing in my boxers -- and suddenly... I had this thought. The Coach -- at practice - constantly singled me out. What if it was me the hairbrush was for? What if I was in his office...
What was I thinking about?!
And my dick - like a fucking steel rocket. I caught myself in the dressing room mirror -- my face red with embarrassment -- and my dick - tenting out my underpants!
I was a wreck the whole rest of the day. What was wrong with me? A spanking? With a hairbrush?
At dinner, my folks asked about the mall, then asked me if I was OK. I shrugged - said "sure."
It took me most of the meal, but then I asked, tentatively, "Mom? Dad?" I kept my voice conversational. "Was I ever spanked as a kid?"
There was a sudden silence. I could see a look of concern in their eyes. Was my question too out-of-the-blue?
I stammered, "Well, I was ... I just... It came up today at lunch with the guys."
I reddened. Mom came to my rescue.
"Andy, we never had the need. You were always such a good kid. Plus your father and I don't believe in it."
That night I had a dream about Coach DaSilva. He was pressed against me, instructing me on a shot. His arms where around me, holding onto my own. I was mesmerized with the dark hairs on his forearms in contrast to the the blond hair on my own. I felt the bulge of his genitals pressed between my ass-cheeks. I felt the wetness of his body. I smelled the masculinity of his sweat. Holding my right wrist with his right hand, he reached around with his left hand and began to undo the button of my tennis shorts. I could feel the scratch of his beard-stubble as he whispered into my ear, "Andy, you've been needing this for a long time. I've seen it in your eyes. A boy like you needs a strong man. A strong man with a strong hand. Someone who knows how to use a hairbrush."
He started to ease down my zipper; I felt my tennis shorts being pulled down -
And I woke up - shooting my jizz right into my pajama bottoms!
I hadn't had a wet dream since I was a kid! What was happening?
And the next afternoon at tennis practice, Coach did wrap his arms around me to demonstrate a shot. His body was pressing into mine -- and oh no! I could feel my dick starting to fill with blood. No, not here! I tried to do multiplication problems in my head... anything to get my penis to stay down... but it lengthened, hardened, pushed against my jockstrap, strained against my tennis shorts! Could Coach tell? Could any of the others? Correcting the grip on my racket, Coach patted me on the butt, and said, "good boy."
Good boy? Did I hear that right? Was I losing my mind?
In the showers afterwards, my teammates were merciless. They patted my naked butt and teased "Good boy" and "Andy, the Coach's boy" and "Throw a rod much?" Which I did again. Naked there in the showers. My penis stiff -- and their howls of laughter.
And that night -- again I had the dream. This time I was over DaSilva's knees, my hard-on pressed into his lap. His hand went to the waistband of my underpants. He started to pull them down. "That's a boy, Andy. Don't resist. Your penis knows, doesn't it, Andy. Your little peepee gets all hard and stiff, doesn't it. I bet you're hard right now, aren't you? Isn't it embarrassing? Isn't it embarrassing that you get a boner... when you know I'm gonna spank your poor bare bottom?"
I woke -- and somehow in my sleep I had pushed my pillow under my hips - my bottom was perched up as if ready for a spanking! My butt was in the air -- and my stiff penis was pumping its boyish load into my pj bottoms!
I skipped tennis practice the next day.
When I got home, my mom told me that Coach DaSilva had called to see if I was OK. Mom looked questioningly into my eyes, "Are you alright?" I dashed upstairs.
And that night... the dream again. My underpants being pulled down, Coach's hands on my bare bottom, Coach leaning down to pick up the hairbrush. He lifted the hairbrush high over his head and -
I awoke - again my pillow was under my hips -- my pj bottoms were down around my ankles - my bottom was perched-out - and bare! And I ejaculated -- shooting and shooting into my pillow with an intensity I have never experienced.
The next afternoon we had a meet. I won both sets, but it felt like a dream. In the locker-room, Coach called out that he wanted to see me immediately in his office. I had just finished my shower, and had just put on a pair of boxer shorts.
I entered Coach DaSilva's office -- and nearly stopped in my tracks. Coach was sitting at his desk -- and out on top of his desk -- was the hairbrush! My face went red!
"Andy, is everything OK?" asked Coach.
"I.... I..." was all I could mutter. My eyes went to the hairbrush. His eyes registered this. And he smiled.
"Is there something I can do for you?"
I was overwhelmed. The handsomeness of the coach. His super masculinity. The hairbrush. The dreams. DaSilva got up from his chair. He put his arm around my shoulders.
"I hear the other boys are teasing you in the shower. I hear them teasing you about how I said to you, 'good boy'." He paused, then added, "But you liked it."
I could feel the heat as my face blushed.
Coach sat down on the edge of his desk, facing me, his hand just inches from the hairbrush.
His gaze was so kind... and authoritative. I stammered, "Coach...? I mean... Do you...?"
Coach smiled.
"I mean, Coach?.... um... say a player... that he needed... would you ever...."
At this point he picked up the wooden hairbrush and started nonchalantly taping it against his palm.
My eyes went wide. I stood speechless -- and then horrified. Because suddenly I felt a familiar feeling in my groin. I couldn't stop it. Standing in just my boxers, there was gonna be no way to hide an erection!
I suddenly didn't know what to do with my hands... cover my hardening penis with them -- or would that bring more attention?
Coach smiled. My penis hardened -- and stood at full attention! Right in front of him! My face burned with shame.
A guy's erection should be something he is proud of, right? Why did it now make me feel like... like... a dirty little boy?
Coach approached me, smiled again, and once more put his arm around my shoulder like it was the most perfectly normal thing in the world to have a shamed-faced eighteen-year-old boy standing in his office with an embarrassing woody on display!
"Here, Andy, I want you to have this." He handed me the hairbrush. "Take it. It's my good luck charm. It always brings success. I want you to have it."
I didn't know what to do. I took the brush, ran out the door. I shoved the hairbrush in my gym bag, pulled on clothes like a madman. I didn't want my teammates to see the hairbrush -- or my boner!
That night, with the pillow under my hips - my pajamas pulled down to my ankles - I played with the brush. I played with the brush with a confused mixture of pride - and embarrassment. The coach picked me. But why me?
I drew the soft bristles of the brush against the bare skin of my bottom. I rubbed my bottom with the cool, smooth wood of the back of the hairbrush. I spanked the brush against my naked bottom. I spanked and spanked that wooden hairbrush against my bottom -- until squirt after squirt of boy-jizz soaked my pillowcase.
I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned. I played with the hairbrush, caressing myself, spanking myself. More and more jism soaked the pillowcase until the room smelled of my spunk.
The next morning at school was like a blur.
What is happening to me? Why am I carrying around the coach's hairbrush in my backpack like a schoolgirl with her boyfriend's locket? Why do I get an erection just thinking about it? What if anyone finds out?
I darted into a boy's room. I went into a stall and locked the latch. I took the hairbrush from my backpack. My hands shook. My penis was so stiff it hurt.
I took my penis from my pants. I desperately wanted to rub my boner against the soft bristles of the brush. I wanted the soft bristles to make me come. I brought the hairbrush up to my penis -- but stopped. This seemed too naughty. Not allowed. Not allowed? Not allowed by the coach? How had I suddenly equated cumming with permission from my coach?
I shoved the hairbrush back into my pack, worked my frustrated penis back into my pants. The frustration of not cumming gave me a shiver. It was the same sexual shiver as when the coach said 'good boy'.
At tennis practice, I was manic. I wanted to play with the intensity of Coach DaSilva. I wanted... what? I wanted Coach - to be pleased with me. I wanted Coach - to be proud of me. To be -- his good boy.
Immediately after practice, I rushed into Coach's office. "Coach? Sir?"
He held me with his eyes. I wanted to be held by him. I wanted to be in his strong arms. I wanted his body pressed against me. I wanted --
"Sir?" The words were stuck in my throat. "Sir?"
A silence.
"About the hairbrush? The one you gave me? Does that mean you want to...?"
I couldn't finish. Was this real? Does the Coach really spank? Or was this some elaborate set-up by the team? Why had it so over-taken me? Why would a strong eighteen-year-old want to be spanked? Why did these humiliating thoughts of being spanked by the coach give me such a boner?
The Coach didn't move. It seemed like time stood still. Then -
"Andy, it's time, isn't it."
No arm-around-the-shoulder. He just looked me straight in my eyes.
"Tell me what is it you want. Tell me what you need. I don't want you to ever feel like I forced you. This must be something you truly want. Say it clearly so I'll know."
What did I truly want? A spanking? I need a spanking?? I need my bare bottom spanked like a little boy??
I closed my eyes.
"Sir?"
"Yes, Andy?"
A long silence.
"I need it. Sir, I need... I need a..."
The words stuck in my throat. This was the moment. You know how it feels. That intensity. Like time stops. Like light seems - too bright.
"I need... a spanking. I need you to spank me! On my bare bottom!"
I felt like a balloon popped. I felt a rush of timorous air.
"What?"
My god! What if this turns out to be all a joke?!
My face went crimson. But if it was a joke -- oh no! Then that would mean I'd never -
"I need you to spank me!" And suddenly I was desperate. What if he wouldn't do it? What if he wouldn't put me over his knee... What if he wouldn't pull down my pants and -
I ripped down my tennis shorts, I yanked down my jockstrap.
"PLEASE, SIR, PLEASE! I NEED IT! I NEED YOU TO SPANK ME ON MY BARE BOTTOM!!"
My god! Did I really yell? All of my teammates must have heard me!
I stood there, my face blushing red -- and my penis was hard! It was sticking up stiff for Coach to see! And it was like I know longer cared! Like this was the most natural thing to be standing before my Coach with a humiliatingly hard penis -- and this desperate... this desperate need to have my bare bottom spanked!!
And Coach -- smiled.
"Good boy."
He approached me as I stood before him, my penis in a stiff salute like a toy soldier. He caressed one of my butt-cheeks lazily with his hand. I felt pre-cum ooze from the tip of my penis. It glistened like a pearl. Coach took the bead of pre-cum onto his fingertip, then traced the wetness around my lips. He took a small slip of paper from his shirt pocket.
"My address. Be there at 7 PM. Bring the hairbrush."
He opened the locker next to his desk and took out two 3-packs of white, Jockey briefs.
"From now on you'll wear these. Men wear boxers, boys wear briefs."
His strong fingers kneaded my ass-cheeks, then his fingertips pushed into the crack of my bottom. He smiled.
"Now go get showered. Don't worry about any of the other boys noticing your boner. It's you who I will be spanking tonight. And my spankings hurt. Think about how you'll cry."
I stepped out of the shorts and jockstrap that were around my ankles -- ran into the locker room -- and headed into the showers. I stood under the cascading water, my penis steel-stiff. I didn't care that the others laughed at me. I was the one the Coach had given his hairbrush, I was the one Coach had given special boy-briefs to wear, I was the one who was going to have his bare bottom spanked tonight!
I rushed through dinner. I squirmed a bit wearing my new, small, special briefs. Just the thought that I had followed the coach's orders made my penis harden. The tightness of the briefs made me constantly aware of it. And the tightness of the briefs around the cheeks of my bottom made me very aware about what was going to happen.
I borrowed Mom's car, and arrived at Coach's house.
Coach opened the door, standing in just a pair of cut-off sweats. I stood frozen, taking in the dark hair of his expansive chest, taking in the muscles of his biceps and forearms.
Without a word, Coach positioned me on the rug in the entryway. His eyes took in every inch of me. Finally he spoke.
"Strip, boy."
I slowly, nervously began to remove my clothes. Coach told me to stop when I got down to my boy-briefs. He looked at my hardening penis, trapped uncomfortably in the confines of the tight briefs. He smiled again.
The Coach then slowly pulled my briefs down. My penis sprang free, standing up like a little baton. Coach took hold of my penis -- and like it was a leash! - led me by my stiff penis into the center of his living room. The boy-briefs were still around my ankles -- hobbling me -- adding to my embarrassment!
Again the Coach's eyes traveled up and down me. His face lighted in a devilish smile. He caressed the bare flesh of my bottom. His fingers pushed between my butt-checks and into my crack until his middle finger find my small, tight pucker. He stood there motionless -- looking into my eyes, with one hand on my shoulder and the middle finger of his other hand just hovering at the entrance to my boy-hole. I grew weak in the knees, my penis leaking so much pre-cum that it dripped down like a spider on a glistening web.
He began gently playing with my blond pubic hair with his fingers. He tugged lightly at the hairs on my balls.
"Do you know the difference between a man and a boy?"
He continued to play with my pubic hair as my face flushed red. Again Coach's devilish smile.
"I see you do."
Coach stepped out of the room and returned with a bowl of water, a can of shaving cream, and a razor.
"Let's make you my boy."
He sprayed shaving cream into his hand -- rubbed it into my pits - then into my pubes -- and even coated my balls! He then put one arm on my back and with gentle pressure, forced me to bend at the waist.
"Put you hands back, and spread your cheeks."
I hesitated. Pull apart my ass-cheeks? I blushed with shame! But I so desparately wanted to please him. Can I really be doing this? Imagine if any of the guys saw me like this!! And when I followed his orders -- my face red-hot - he lathered my ass-crack!
"Does this embarrass you, Andy?"
He played around my hole with his lathered fingertip.
"You'll need to get used to it... humility is good for a boy."
And then he began to shave me. With each swipe of the blade -- as my hair was removed -- my face burned bright red. Here I had spent all my teenage years trying to show that I was a man-in-charge, and within minutes, Coach had transformed my body from that of a cocky eighteen-year-old - into that of a smooth and hairless ten-year-old boy! I felt tears come to my eyes in humiliation.
And my penis was as hard as a little bone.
"Your peepee sure seems to like it. So little and stiff. Does your peepee get all hot and hard -- thinking about what the guys will say when they see you in the showers tomorrow?"
My face burned hot. Coach playfully pulled on my boner. He leaned in close and whispered into my ear.
"It won't only be your smooth crotch that the guys will like -- there'll be another surprise for you in the showers."
He smiled that devil-smile.
"Now go get the hairbrush."
I ran to my gym bag. There was something about the way my penis jutted up from my now hairless crotch and the way my butt-cheeks moved without hair between them that made me feel both juvenile - and obscene at the same time. With the slickness of my hairless butt-cheeks, I suddenly became conscious of a part of me that was never sexual before: my anus! My little puckered hole! I felt exposed... pornographic... lewd!
Coach had put a hard-backed wooden chair into the center of the living room.
"Climb onto my lap, boy."
And losing my last shred of dignity, I did as I was told. And there was eighteen-year-old me -- Andy -- naked -- hairless as a ten-year-old - over Coach's lap -- ready to be spanked. My toes just barely made contact with the floor - my face was against the dark hairs of his calf - and my bottom was high and defenseless in the air.
Coach caressed his fingertips against the the bare skin of my bottom, emphasizing its vulnerability.
"Andy, real men get flogged - or they get whipped. They take it against their strong, muscular backs. But a boy like you? Boys like you get spanked. Spanked on their bare, soft bottoms. A boy like you knows this. A boy like you, Andy, knows he should be spanked. A boy like you needs his bottom -- on fire! A boy like you needs everyone to see his sore, red bottom."
My penis was like a hot pipe, pressed into his lap. Coach continued lightly caressing the naked cheeks of my bottom with just the tips of his fingertips. His fingertips explored the shape of each cheek, as if demonstrating their defenselessness. It made me feel so submissive. Why is it that the more I feel humiliated -- the harder my penis grows?
Coach read my mind, smiling. He opened his legs a bit, and pulled my stiffie so it was thrust out into the open air between his thighs.
"I don't want you messing in my lap."
He continued to caress my stiff penis as it pointed uselessly into the space between his legs. It was so embarrassing -- him playing with my penis like it was a toy. His fingers would bring me so I was like - oh my god I'm gonna cum! Please no! - and then he'd stop. Then he would start again. Each time he would bring me so close that I wanted to cry out. And then he would stop. It was so humiliating -- being over his lap like that -- me totally naked -- and him playing with me so that I was totally in his control. And each time he did this, I began to realize that if he could control the very essence of my masculinity -- my penis -- then he could also control - my orgasm! Make me so that I wanted to cum so bad... then not allow it!! And there would be nothing I could do about it! He could control whether I could cum - or not!
Guys live for their orgasms. The power. The control. Here I was giving mine away!
"Don't worry, Andy. I don't like my boy to cum much. And if my boy gets too horny, I have a sure-fire method to make him lose his little stiffie."
He laughed. "My spankings are the real thing. They hurt. They make boys cry. Cumming will be the furthest thing from your mind. This I promise."
He started again on my penis, bringing me so close to cumming that my body was shaking -- and then -
The first strike of the hairbrush hit! I howled out! It was a shock! The pain was intense! The pain was white-sharp at first, then a blossom of deeper pain seemed to travel down from my head and up from my toes to the very point of impact on my bottom.
SMACK! Again the first white-pain, then the second traveling pain short-circuiting me-- and SMACK!
OWWWWWW! I tried to sit up. No this is all a mistake -
SMACK! The first white-pain, then the second traveling pain -- and SMACK!
I struggled to keep my dignity! And I writhed and tried not to call out. Like I was a man and I could take it. But -
SMACK! The first white-pain, then the second wave of pain -- and SMACK!
OOOWWWWW! IT HURTS!!
SMACK! The first white-pain, then that second wave of pain -- and SMACK!
I writhed across his lap. I tried to hold the pain -- but -
SMACK! And SMACK!
The coach timed it just perfectly. I had no time to recover -
SMACK! The first white-pain, then the second -- and SMACK!
I was bucking shamelessly, toes curling -- and -
SMACK!
My bottom was clenching uselessly -
SMACK! And SMACK!
I was screaming -
SMACK!
"No more Coach!" - and -
SMACK! The first white-pain, then the second wave of pain -- and SMACK!!
"NOOOOOO, COACH, SIR!, NOOOOOO!!!!" -
SMACK!
There was nothing I could do about it. Oh please!!
SMACK! The first white-pain, then the second -- and SMACK!
And they just kept coming and coming and and coming -- and my bottom was - ON FIRE!
SMACK!
I lost all control, the tears streaming out of my eyes and -
SMACK! The first white-pain, then the second wave of pain -- and SMACK!
"OH NO PLEEEEEEEEASE! PLEEEEEEEEASE! - and -
SMACK!
Kicking and screaming -- and -
SMACK! The first white-pain, then the second wave of pain -- and SMACK!
The blows of the hairbrush coming faster and faster -
SMACK! And SMACK!
My whole being -- my whole world! - JUST THE PAIN IN MY BOTTOM! MY POOR BOTTOM! OWWWW! OWWWW COACH! MY BOTTOM!! OWWW! MY BOTTOM! OH PLEASE! OWW! OH PLEASE OH - OWWWWWW!
SMACK! And -- SMACK! And -- SMACK! And SMACK! And SMACK!
Sobbing uncontrollably -
And then as suddenly as the spanking started, it stopped. The fire in my bottom roared in pain. My bottom felt twice its normal size. I lay over my Coach's lap, my face drenched with tears.
Tenderly, the coach said, "Get up."
I struggled to my feet. My hands instinctively went to try to smooth my throbbing, tortured bottom. This made the Coach smile.
The Coach grinned as he checked my penis - it had shrunk into itself like the head of a frightened turtle. My penis was just a tiny button, hiding in a hairless, little boy's groin.
Coach wiped a tear from my face with his fingertip. He tenderly inserted his fingertip into my mouth. I stood there -- like this is how it's meant to be: me naked, my bottom on fire, Coach's finger in my mouth, tasting my tears. And standing there, sucking on his finger -- my penis once again became hard.
"Get dressed, boy."
He looked me in the eye.
"You will keep the hairbrush with you at all times."
I nodded -- his finger in my mouth -- my penis erect.
"Your boy-briefs are mandatory. You may wear a jockstrap during tennis, then back to your briefs. You'll keep yourself shaved smooth."
Coach took his finger from my mouth, then dressed me in my briefs. He adjusted my stiff penis so it was trapped upward in the fabric at an uncomfortable angle.
"From now on, the only time you are allowed to touch your penis is when you urinate. You are not allowed to play with yourself. Ever. You got that? You will never be allowed to cum without my permission. Wet dreams can't be avoided -- this is what little boys have."
He smiled into my tear-streaked face.
"You are my boy. I own your bottom -- and this little thing you call your penis."
He pulled me into himself for a hug, making sure my face got pushed into the dark, wet hairs of his armpit. I was smothered in the masculinity of his smell. Coach took my hard penis in his hand and massaged it. I could feel pre-cum ooze out of my penis and soak into the fabric of my briefs.
"When your erections become too troublesome, just come to me with the hairbrush."
He smiled. He made me wince as his hand went down inside the back of my briefs. His fingers again wiggled into my crack, his finger toying just at the entrance to my anus.
"This boy-hole belongs to me too. Next time I'll make sure you know who it belongs too."
The coach was right. My erections are troublesome.
As I stand under the spray of the showers my face burns in humiliation. My teammates are having a field day - taunting me about my shaved groin. There is nothing I can do. My penis is a traitor to their taunts. It stands painfully stiff. It sticks straight up. It aims right at them.
The coach had said yesterday that there'd be another surprise for me in the showers. I find this out as I turn to hide from the jeers of my classmates. As I turn my erection away from them -- the guys began to fall all over themselves with laughter!!
The guys are pointing at my bottom!
And now I see it!
I thought the marks from the hairbrush were gone -- but the hot water of the shower! It brings out all the marks from Coach's spanking! Each stroke of the hairbrush can now been seen: shiny-bright... vivid... red!!
They all see! They all know! My bottom has been spanked!!
My face flashes red. I cover my ass-cheeks with both hands. I try to hide my red bottom. The guys laugh at my predicament! If I try to hide my red bottom, I show my boner! If I try to hide hide my boner...! The guys howl hysterically!
And suddenly there is a feeling that builds from my balls -- a feeling that there's no way to stop -- that I'm over the edge -- the feeling comes from the thought that everyone knows about my spanking -- it makes me -- oh NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Not that! Please, God!
But it's too late -
This can't be happening! This can't be happening to me!
But it does --
My god!!
I ejaculate!
Here, standing in front of all my laughing teammates, my face now as red my bottom, my hands desperately trying to hide the marks on my ass-cheeks -- I shoot! Spurt after spurt of boy-jizz shoots right at them! My god! Here I'm humiliated in front of my peers with the marks of my spanking -- at it makes me cum!!!!
My cum splatters on the floor in front of them. I turn, put my hands to hide my face under the spray. Let them see my red bottom. Let them see me for whom I am: a humiliated, spanked boy.
I leave the showers. I pull on my boy-briefs. I get the hairbrush from my gym bag. I head to Coach's office.
With the door to the Coach's office open for all my teammates to hear, I ask my Coach for another spanking. Please. Right here. Right in front of all the guys. Please spank your boy.
The Coach doesn't ask why I need this now. He can see it in my eyes. He knows that when the guys saw the marks of the hairbrush in the hot water of the shower -- when his boy felt the most humiliated in his entire eighteen-year-old life -- that this caused his boy to cum without permission.
I climb onto Coach's lap. Even after all of this, I blush as he pulls down my underwear. Coach lifts my chin with his fingers, turns my face so I can see all the guys who are crowded into the coach's doorway.
Tears come down my face. The coach catches one with his fingertip. I suck his fingertip into my mouth.
And it's me -- Andy -- with his bare bottom up in the air. Me -- Andy -- with his bottom naked... vulnerable... defenseless... ready to be spanked!
For all this talk in high school about identity formation -- I know who I am. I'm Coach's boy.
Coach adjusts his legs, lifts my arm and puts it into the small of my back. I know why he does this. It's not just my bottom he wants my teammates to see. No, he wants them to also see my face -- and my penis. He wants them to see the humiliation in my face, knowing I'm going to spanked in front of all of them. Even though I had ejaculated only seconds before, he wants my teammates to see -- what this humiliation does to me.
My god. I see them all looking at me... They're all looking at... Oh, please. No!
But they do see. I can see it in the astonishment of their faces -- in the laughter of their eyes. They see that Andy -- naked, shaved, perched over Coach's lap and ready for his spanking... they see -- that the humiliated, crying, about-to-be-spanked Coach's boy... once again ... has a boner!
Did you like this story? I would LOVE to hear your feedback! Did Andy's journey get you hard? Please email me at: spankbuckred@yahoo.com
Thanks MMSA! I like that a guy in New York (me) who always is humiliated when he gets a bare-bottomed spanking, can have one of his stories read by guys from all over the world! Would LOVE to hear from you!