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All the usual disclaimers that are usual apply here. This is a work of fiction involving sex acts between consenting persons of various conditions of life. If you can't handle that or if you are not of the legal age or mindset, go no further but remove this material from your possession forthwith.
If you have faggot sensitivity, you ought not read this story. I'd really like to hear from some of you with either positive or negative comments. I have no idea really if I'm bringing any of you pleasure or what it is you'd like me to write about. I only hear from a few people on each story and that's not much feedback for all the work I put into writing these. I'd really like to hear from you so I'll have some idea how I'm doing. Thanks.
Try to keep in mind that while 42 is the meaning of life, it is not the only possible solution. Jon
No Running
M/T masturbation, spanking, discipline
by Jon Hold
jonhold@eudoramail.com
If you have a copy of Harry Bush's painting/cartoon "No Running", you might enjoy keeping it handy as you read this story. Harry Bush and Julius are my two favorite gay-theme artists. I hope this story lives up to Mr. Bush's standards.
My parents couldn't afford a four-year college, so I attended the local Junior College for my first two years of advanced schooling. Several local businessmen agreed to sponsor my college education on sort of a swimming scholarship. Oh yeah, I'm Buddy Wilkins, State Champion swimmer. The Jr. College swimming coach agreed to let me join the summer program, which wasn't usually open to entering Freshmen. Pretty exciting for me, especially since I'd met the College swimming coach when he interviewed me at the High School and accepted me into the swimming program.
Oh, while I'm thinking of it, perhaps I should mention that I'm just the teeniest bit gay. Not a flaming queen or anything, but my orientation is definitely man-to-man. More specifically, I was really turned on by older men. Powerful men who could control, discipline and direct me. I only sex I'd ever had was with Grandma Thumb and her four daughters --- and a little bit of goofing around with a few team mates. Dad had died when I was nine, and I really missed him. My dad was the coolest person I'd ever known. If I closed my eyes and held my dick I could still smell all his odors. His after shower odor and his 'I've been working hard all day' odor. Most of all I could remember the smell of him when he'd pick me up and hug me and hold me against his hard chest. I was his "best buddy" and I'd do ANYTHING for my Daddy. When that drunk driver killed him I was totally bereft. Lost and alone and no one could reach me for years until my mom signed me up for swimming lessons at the local "Y". The coach was a stud and swimming naked with him and all those other boys became the center of my life.
When I entered High School, the swimming coach took over my training and turned me into a championship swimmer. I admired him, and did my very best for him, but he scared me and I was afraid to tell him how much he turned me on. He made us wear swimming suits at all times unless we were actually changing clothes, and I never did get to see him in anything less than a pair of baggy swimming trunks. And now he was turning me over to another Coach.
Coach Gospodin was 27, a couple of inches taller and a few pounds heavier than me with blond hair so lightly colored that it seemed white. I couldn't wait to see him out of his business suit.
The first day of summer classes was spent in the classroom going over safety rules and training schedules and getting introduced to each other. I was the "baby" in the class, everyone else being at least a year older than me. Classes were on Tuesdays and Thursdays with practice time available after class and on weekends.
Naturally, I missed the bus and was late for my first practice on Thursday. I rushed into the gym and changed clothes and rinsed off in the showers as fast as I could, hoping that maybe the coach wouldn't notice I was late. Fat chance! I tried to sneak out to the pool unobtrusively, but everyone turned around and stared at me.
Mom had splurged and bought me the pair of electric blue speedos that I'd been lusting after and the way they molded to my hips and ass and held my full package up was a real turn-on. For me at least. Everyone else seemed to think it was exceptionally funny that I was the only person in the pool area wearing any clothing at all.
"Well, Mr. Wilkins," Coach Gospodin said, "it's so nice of you to drop by and join the rest of us."
I blushed bright red halfway down my chest.
"Would you care to take off your nifty little speedo's and join the rest of us, or are you body conscious as well as tardy?"
Great! Just Fucking Great! My first real college swimming class and I already had the coach pissed at me and the rest of the students staring at me as I tried to wiggle out of the skin tight Lycra. The coach worked our asses off and seemed to spend most of the class yelling into my ear.
After Coach Gospodin dismissed the class and went back to his office, most of the guys went to take a shower and head home. My plan was to stay for a while and try to work on some of the things the coach had been trying to teach me. A small group of the other swimmers were hanging out and having fun. A couple of them came over and sympathized with me for getting the coach on my case so early in the game and invited me to join them and their friends. We were playing a semi-complicated game of tag and I was running up the side of the pool to circle around behind the other team. My timing was almost perfect. I managed to barrel into the coach just as he stepped out of his office door.
Staring me right in the eye and hooking his thumb over his shoulder he said one word, "Office!". Then he turned to the other guys, "You have three minutes to shower, dress, and get your young asses out of here. Move it!"
The coach walked in behind me and pointed. "Get your nose in the corner!"
My dad was the only person who had ever punished me, and that was one of the things HE'd done. I started to object, but Coach Gospodin just bare-handed my ass hard enough to leave a red handprint and gave my shoulder a push to get me moving. Once I had my nose firmly in the corner, Coach left the office by the interior door and I heard him yelling at the other guys. I could hear the gym doors close behind the last of my teammates and heard the clanging as Coach locked the doors. I felt more than heard him come back into the office and the next thing I knew he had me by the ear and was dragging me back out to the pool, both of us still naked and my ass still burning where he'd swatted me. I figured that this was the end of my swimming career, because there was no way I was going to let an asshole like this abuse me.
Coach lead me by the ear out to were "No Running" was printed on the pools cement apron in large red letters. Pointing to the sign he asked, "Can you read that?"
Half scared and more than half angry, I said, "Yes!"
Still holding onto my ear, he swatted my ass again. "Can you read that?"
"YES!" I yelled. I don't know if it was because I was so angry or because of the burning in my ass, but tears were coming to my eyes and I was going to be damned before I'd let this martinet see me crying.
"WHACK!" He REALLY landed one on my ass. "I asked you a civil question. Are you going to give me a polite answer?"
"Yes."
He raised his hand again, but before he could take it any further a little session my Dad and I had just before he died came to mind.
"Yes, Sir! I CAN read the sign... Sir!"
"Good! Maybe there's hope for you yet. Now maybe I can convince you that I mean my rules to be obeyed."
With that he tweaked my ear and twisted me around as he went down on one knee, right on top of the "No Running" sign. Somehow, I ended up across his raised knee.
Coach was strong enough that with one hand on my hip and his forearm across the small of my back, he held me securely as he began to seriously warm up my ass. I struggled to get free, but the more I struggled the harder he spanked me.
"I can keep this up all day until you settle down and take your punishment for breaking the "No Running" rule. None of this counts 'til you hold still."
I knew that he was serious and did my best to hold still. Once he saw that he started talking to me about the special chance I had and how he never wanted to see me late again and how I'd damn well better pay attention to the rules. I was listening to him, but my face started getting red again, and it wasn't necessarily due to the pain in my ass.
By now, the spanking didn't really hurt, it was just making my ass hotter and hotter and I blushed more and more as I felt my groin filling with blood and my dick started rubbing against Coach's thigh. I was really embarrassed, but coach just kept working my ass over just as if he didn't notice my erection poking his leg and spreading my copious teen juices all over his smooth skin. Pushing up off of my knuckles, I arched my back and started peddling my legs as if I were going for a breaststroke championship.
Coach started urging me on and timing his strokes so that the flat of his hand whacked my buttcheek just as my leg on that side reached it's maximum lift. "YEAH! You've been needing this, haven't you, Boy!"
"Yes, Sir! Yes, Sir!" I yelled.
Then the real spanking began. Coach worked my ass over good. Laughing, telling me how good it felt to work my ass over and how he was going to blister my butt every time I got the slightest bit out of line. I kept saying, "Yes, Sir." and begging him to really give my ass a good going over. I could feel his heavy manhood following my left leg up and down as I kicked my feet and I knew that he was really enjoying spanking my ass.
He held me tightly and reached down between my legs to pull on my balls when I started shooting my cum all over his leg. I felt him press his cockhead between my thigh and ballsac and he joined me, spooging all up between my legs.
I slumped down across his knee, emotionally and physically exhausted. Coach held me firmly in place, one hand cupping one of my hot ass cheeks and the other rubbing my back as I cried and let years of hurt and longing out. When I was quieted down and breathing regularly again, Coach lifted me to my feet and guided me into the shower room.