Date: Fri, 14 Oct 2011 14:29:56 -0700 (PDT)
From: Joe Hunter <hunterjoe45@yahoo.com>
Subject: Baseball Diamond Tails - 3C

All the usual disclaimers apply:

+This story is a work of fiction.  If you think it is real, you have a very
active imagination.

+Do not read this story if you live in an area where it is illegal to do
so.

+Scenes of sexual activity between an adult male and a young boy are
represented.  Do not read further if this offends you.

+Please do not imitate the actions portrayed herein - the author cannot
accept responsibility for any actions promoted by this story.


If you would like to get in touch, please e-mail me at:

			hunterjoe45@yahoo.com

I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Support Nifty!   Joe

____________________________


BASEBALL DIAMOND TAILS - 3C
(copyright 2011, Joe Hunter)

:::::::::::::::::::::
 First Base:  Part C
:::::::::::::::::::::

JC and I drew very close after that first weekend.  We saw each other
nearly every day at practice, games or weekend activities, and I developed
great admiration for this intelligent boy who was making his way in life
with such an independent spirit.

His play at first base, already good, improved even more with the hours of
extra time we spent on fielding drills.  He had always been a cheerful
confident player, and now as he reached full potential his example inspired
all the rest of the boys.  As the season progressed my players were welding
into a team, and JC was one of its leaders.

I was not about to let the boy's hitting lag behind his fielding so many a
night JC and I drove to Pitch'N Putt out on the highway where I had him
swing away in the batting cage, improving his strength and timing.  The boy
loved it and the result was not just a higher batting average.  JC's recent
growth had already added power to his lower body.  Now hitting in the cage
put extra definition on his chest and shoulders.

As often as we could, JC and I worked on our special project, taking what
opportunity we found to be alone together.  This did not happen nearly
often enough to suit either of us, but we generally managed a few sessions
each week either in the cabaņa, up in his room or at my house.

We often went swimming in his pool, bringing other boys from the team as
cover so JC would not appear to be spending all his time alone with me.  I
worried, unnecessarily as it turned out, the JC might not be getting enough
time with boys his own age.  But I soon recognized that, away from the
baseball field, the company of his teammates bored him.  He was very
careful to conceal this and worked hard on getting along, but little signs
and hints made it clear he preferred my company to theirs.

On the field it was a different story because there JC found the talents of
others a compliment to his own.  His leadership and competitive spirit
drove the other boys to levels they might not otherwise have achieved and
our team that year was one of the best I ever coached.  We had the sort of
infield that could bring spectators to their feet with spectacular ball
handling.  My shortstop, a boy with fielding skills almost as good as JC's,
teamed up with him to turn double plays, no mean feat on the short 11-12
league base paths.  Plus our starting second and third baseman could flash
some leather as well.

And JC loved the attention they got.  With his stunning good looks he was a
crowd favorite.  Whenever the fans cheered his play he always lifted his
cap and treated everyone to the dazzling, movie star smile.  I asked him
once if any little kids were coming to him for autographs and he blushed,
grinning in embarrassment, and said, "Come on, Coach!  Quit it!"

JC was having a great season.  All my boys were playing well, and when we
won the game that marked the exact halfway point of the schedule we still
had not lost a single game.

JC and I sat in the empty stands that night looking at the stars, talking
as we often did after games.  It was pitch dark and no one was around so I
had my arm around him and the boy was snuggled against me.  He never wore
anything under his uniform except a jock and the feel of that taut, slender
body beneath the tight cotton was exciting.  JC had pulled his shirt up so
I could stroke underneath, and as my palm slid over smooth defined stomach
he rubbed a hand along the inside of my thigh.

"Coach...  Tonight was the halfway game and we're still undef..."

I cut him off quickly.  "Don't say it!  Don't jinx it!"  I knocked on the
wooden seat of the bleacher.  "I'm so nervous, I have trouble sleeping.
I'm getting superstitious.  Maybe I won't change my socks until after the
last game."

"Ewwwwww!  That's too gross!  Don't do it Coach."

"I meant just my game socks!"

"It's still gross," JC laughed.

I petted him, stroking the silky skin of his taut little belly.  The boy
sighed contentedly and stared up at the night sky.

"The stars are so bright tonight."

"That's because the moon isn't up yet," I told him, kissing the top of his
head.

"I saw the moon last night.  It was almost full."

"What were you doing up so late?"

"Remember how I told you that sometimes in the middle of the night I wake
up all restless and wanting something?"  The boy turned his face up to
mine.  "Well, I woke last night.  Everything was still and the moon was
shining through my window.  It was like bright as day."

"It was just past full, last night," I told him.

"I got out of bed and took off my pajamas," he continued.  "I was all
stiff...  So hard it almost hurt.  I went to the window and stood in the
moonlight and stretched my hands over my head.  My skin looked all
silvery."

I stroked the boy very gently not wanting to break the spell of his story.

"The moon was making a big patch of light on the rug, so I got that lotion
and lay down in the light and did that stuff...  Sticking my fingers in and
rubbing and stuff...  It was awesome Coach.  It was like the moonlight had
me all painted silver.  It was all glittery when I shot on my belly."

"Told you it would be good," I said, kissing his hair.

The boy snuggled closer.  "When can we do more, Coach?  I'm way less scared
of it now."

"How 'bout this Saturday, after the game?"

"It'll have to be at your house.  My folks will be home."

"Can you get away for the afternoon?"

"Uh-huh," he nodded.  "Yeah, I can fix it.  Let's do it!"

Saturday morning's game was very nearly a disaster.  My starting third
baseman was dragged off to a wedding by his parents and while,
theoretically, one player should not make too significant a difference,
team chemistry is fragile.  Sometimes a single player's presence or absence
in a lineup can change the whole feeling of the game.  My substitute at
third base made some errors, the rhythm of the infield was upset, and we
found ourselves going to bat at the top of the last inning down by two
runs.  Suddenly the end of our undefeated season was just three outs away.

JC he had been playing his usual excellent game and as I went out to the
third-base coaching box I heard him behind me in the dugout psyching the
other players up for a rally.  He was scheduled to bat fourth in the inning
and I was praying he would get the chance.

The other team smelled an upset in the making and momentum was on their
side.  My spirits sank as our first two hitters grounded out.  Our third
man went all the way to a full count and then nearly stopped my heart by
taking a close inside pitch.  When it was called a ball and he trotted up
to first base I let out a sigh of relief.  We were still alive, but just
barely.

JC was standing in the on deck circle and I went over to whisper, "Drag
bunt the first good pitch.  Let's see if we can't surprise these guys."

He nodded and went to the plate.

JC was a good bunter, and had the advantage all lefties enjoyed of being a
few steps closer to first base than a right handed batter.  In our 11-12
youth league, where most infielders were still learning basic skills, the
bunt could be a devastating weapon in the right hands.  I hoped JC would
cause enough confusion and errors to score the runner on first and get some
extra bases himself.

The pitcher's first effort missed outside, and JC took it for a ball.  Then
the next pitch hummed in over the plate.  JC trailed his bat and laid down
an excellent little drag bunt that skittered up the first base line.  It
was exactly what I had wanted and for a few seconds, as JC raced for first
and our other base runner motored around second bound for third, I was sure
my strategy had succeeded.  Both pitcher and first baseman stood frozen,
neither sure what to do, and I held my breath waiting for one to panic,
grab the ball and throw it over the third baseman's head, thus scoring my
runner and letting JC go for extra bases.

No such luck.

On a major-league base path, or even a good high school infield, JC's bunt
would have been perfect.  But our field, graded and maintained by
volunteers, was full of little humps and lumps.  JC's bunt hit one of these
and trickled foul by inches.  Waking from his trance, the first baseman ran
to pick up the ball before it could bounce fair again.  The umpire yelled
out, "Foul ball!" and my surprise strategy collapsed in ruin.

JC trotted back to home plate shaking his head, picked up his bat and
looked to me for the sign.  I thought quickly.  He had one strike on him.
The surprise of the bunt was blown.  I came to a decision and gave him the
sign to hit away.

JC acknowledged with a little pull of his cap and then stepped into the
batter's box.  I crossed my fingers.

That bunt attempt had rattled the pitcher and you could just see that all
the kid wanted to do was to get the last out, win the game and get off the
field.  He aimed his next pitch, which never works, missed way high and the
count went to 2-1.  This brought the catcher out for a quick word and after
a short conference his wilting pitcher nodded, took a deep breath and
stepped back on the rubber wearing a grim expression.

Another pitch, low and outside.  The umpire signaled a ball.

Now the count was 3-1, and the other team's dugout got all over their
beleaguered pitcher, yelling at him not to walk JC.

"He's got to come to you, now, JC!"  I yelled.  "Be ready!"

My young first baseman looked cool and determined.  His eyes never left the
pitcher as he stepped into the box, took a practice swing and then waited
for the pitch.

The kid served one up that was right down the middle.  I saw JC take that
quick stride we had practiced so often those hours in the cage.  Then,
keeping his head down, he brought hips and shoulders through.

WANG!

There was that sweet sound of an aluminum bat crushing the ball and JC's
shot sailed deep into right field toward the corner.

"Stay fair!"  I pleaded.  "Stay fair!"  It did.  At first I thought it
might have the distance to be a homer - it would have been JC's third - but
the ball didn't quite have the distance.  It hit the right field fence just
at the top, missing the home run by inches, and ricocheted off into the
deep grass of foul territory.

The poor kid in right field had no idea how to play the ball.  By the time
he finished fumbling around and came up with it, JC had turned second and
was on his way to third.

Forgetting all his coaching, the excited right fielder not only threw the
ball over the head of his cutoff man, but also committed the classic error
of throwing behind the runner, aiming his throw at second base.

I swung my right arm in big circles to wave JC home.  "Go get it, JC," I
yelled.  "Take it all the way, kid!"

He flew around third.  The runner ahead of him had already scored, and now
JC streaked for home.  I saw there might be a play at the plate so I
yelled, "Slide, JC!  Slide!"

I needn't have worried.  JC was a well-drilled base runner.  He knew he was
supposed to slide if the catcher might be blocking the plate and he was
already hitting the dirt as I yelled.  But it didn't even matter.  The
rushed throw from the second baseman sailed wide of the catcher's glove and
JC slid over home plate in a cloud of dirt, scoring the tying run.  We were
back in the game!

Up in the bleachers, spectators were on their feet screaming and cheering.
With a tip of his batting helmet, JC gave them a big smile as he dusted
himself off.  I high-fived him as he trotted past me back to the dugout and
then his teammates mobbed him.

As so often happens in baseball when momentum shifts suddenly, the other
team saw their upset go glimmering and fell apart.  We scored two more runs
before they finally got a third out to end the inning.  Then we put them
down one, two, three in their last at-bat and emerged as the victors of the
game.

"You guys were great today," I told the boys when we huddled in front of
the dugout afterwards.  Getting down on one knee and looking at each of my
players in turn I went on, "Any team can win when it's ahead.  The great
teams, championship teams...  They can come back after being down.  You
guys were champions today and you're going to be the champions at the end
of the season, too!  Now..."  I jumped back onto my feet.  "Let's
celebrate!  Pizza's on me!"

The boys all cheered excitedly.  Team parents at the game loaded them all
up and we took them to the local pizza bar, where they proceeded to lay
waste to several large combo pies as only a group of excited, hungry young
ballplayers can do.  JC was in the midst of it all, talking animatedly,
reliving the game.  But I noticed that he kept his face and uniform neat,
just nibbling on a slice or two without stuffing himself as the other boys
did.  Occasionally he would catch my eye and we would exchange a secret
smile.

After the party, I took JC and a few more boys into my truck.  We dropped
the others off at their homes, and JC let them think he was going to be
dropped off, too, but once we were alone, we went quietly to my house.  The
sky had begun to cloud over and as we put the truck into the garage there
was a rumble of thunder.

"Looks like we lucked out on the weather this morning," I told the boy as
we went inside.

We took our shoes off and left them inside the door along with JC's glove.
The blackening sky outside made the unlit living room dark and mysterious.
I left the lights off and turned to my young ballplayer standing next to me
in his leggings, tight pants and shirt.  The white uniform pants, scuffed
with infield dirt on one hip, shown in the dim light, the cloth molded to
butt and thighs, displaying the perfection of the boy's legs.  Clinging to
lithe shoulders and chest was the sweaty dark blue shirt, its gleam of gold
lettering matching the blonde of his hair.  I could smell his young boy
sweat, the clean, sweet odor of youth...  In my mind was the knowledge
that, except for a jock, he was naked under that uniform...

JC looked at me, eyes wide and expectant.  I put my hands on his shoulders
and he came to me, hugging around my waist, pressing sweetly while I
stroked him through the shirt, circling my palms on his silky back and firm
buttocks.

"I was very proud of you today," I told him gently.

JC put his head against my chest.  "I didn't want to bunt when you told me.
I was sure I could hit."

"I know.  But you did it anyway, didn't you?  And it was perfect.  It
fooled everyone."

He nodded contentedly.  "Yeah.  It was just bad luck it went foul."

I kissed the top of his head, drinking in the smell and feel of his
glorious body.  "When you ran the bases you never even looked for the ball,
you just followed by signals, didn't you."

This brought a soft giggle from the boy.  "I knew you'd kill me if I
looked.  Besides, I knew you wouldn't send me if I didn't have a chance."

"I am so, so proud of you, JC."

The boy hugged and then lifted his face up.  "We've kept the dream alive,"
he whispered, eyes shining.

I bent down and kissed him, his lips parting beneath mine as I thrust my
tongue deep into his mouth.  Holding me tight JC writhed his hips against
my leg.

I pulled his shirt out of his pants and slid my hands under it to feel the
warm satiny skin of his slender back.  When we broke our kiss, JC stepped
back so I could pull the shirt up and off over his head.  Half lit in the
dimness the boy's lovely upper body was sculpted in shadowed curves and
planes.  He tugged at my own shirt and I let him pull it off over my head.
Then we were back into each other's arms, naked skin on naked skin.

"I want you so much, JC," I whispered.

The boy stroked his hands over my back and lifted his face to mine.  We
kissed deeply again, our bodies twisting against each other.  I felt the
boy tremble as my hands swept down the silky smoothness of his back,
slipped around his waist to the front of his firm muscular belly and
unbuttoned his pants.  I pushed gently and the boy squirmed as I peeled the
tight cloth off his hips.  Under the wide elastic waistband of his
supporter the glossy mounds of JC's taut butt glistened in the subdued
light.  I pulled him close, filling my hands with the firm rounded curves
that tightened when the boy squirmed, rubbing the hard bulge in his jock on
my thigh.

JC's exploring fingertips pushed under the waist of my pants and then slid
around the front to unsnap and slowly unzip the fly.  I reached down,
pushing off the tight denim jeans, kicking out of them.  Impatiently JC
slipped a hand into my briefs, cool little fingers closing on my throbbing
hardness.

"Ohhh..." the boy murmured as he began to pump me.  We kissed deeply, my
palms caressing his chest and sides, the feel of his young smooth body
nearly overwhelming me, and then I reached down to tug off my briefs.  As I
did this, the boy was pushing his uniform pants the rest of the way down,
stepping out of both pants and leggings.  His long, slender, legs gleamed
in the darkness as he started to slip off his jock, but I stopped him.

"Not yet," I whispered.  "It makes you look so sexy."

JC posed for me, stretching his body sensually in the semi-darkness.  Rain
began to drum on the sliding glass doors to the balcony.

CRACK!

With dramatic suddenness a flash of lightning lit JC's perfect body,
drawing its lines and curves of developing muscle in stark light and
shadow.  There was a boom of thunder and the boy stepped close to hug
tightly, writhing and twisting his hot, young flesh against mine.

"Strip me," he begged.  "Please...  Now..."

I picked up the aroused youngster and carried him to a spare bed I kept in
the living room that doubled as a sofa when it was covered with cushions
and an old quilt.  Stretching JC out on his back I sat beside him, stroked
his lean silky belly and then lifted the supporter up off his straining
erection.  The boy raised his hips and together we pushed the jock down
below his knees and off his slender legs.

Freed of restraint, JC's developing boy rod arched up in a slight curve,
the straining shaft jumping with the excited boy's heartbeats.  I bent over
him, inhaling his sweet scent before taking the throbbing hardness into my
mouth, my tongue curling around the slick stretched skin of the shaft.  As
I did this, I stretched out on the bed beside the boy with my hips up by
his head.  JC moaned and his arms went around my hips pulling me close
enough for my own thick hardness to slide through his lips and down his
throat.  The thrill of hot, moist wetness ensheathing me, and the sensuous
feel of smooth silky flesh against my own, nearly brought me to climax.  I
squeezed, shuddering with desire and my shaft throbbed.

JC writhed against me.  His knees pulled up, slender thighs straining apart
and I tasted warm sweetness in my mouth as drops of fluid ran from the tip
of his rigid boy stick.  I pulled off him long enough to coat the fingers
of my right hand with saliva and then rubbed his shaft quickly, making it
throb as milky drops ran over my fist.  Then I slipped him back into my
mouth, reached around his right thigh and pushed my slippery fingers
between his buttocks, hunting for the opening.  JC rolled up his hips,
lifting to meet me as I pressed into his irregular, scarred ring.

With a moan JC let himself be penetrated, my fingers sliding up into hot
soft sweetness.  He nudged, signaling for me to begin thrusting and I moved
my hips, sliding my engorged rod in and out of his mouth.  Trembling on the
edge of losing control, squeezing frantically to hold back, I twisted my
fingers inside the boy and sucked on his quivering boyhood, my tongue
curling and licking around it.

JC twisted beneath me, moaning with desire, pressing his face to my groin
as he sought to take me deep into his throat.  Arms locked around my hips
he arched up in tension, thighs straining apart, and then I felt him jerk
as the first throbs took him.  His legs kicked and the hard shaft in my
mouth shot spurts of hot sweet boy cum while I licked and sucked, working
to prolong him.  JC shuddered in ecstasy, his contractions gradually
subsiding, but I was twisting my fingers deep in his body, pressing on his
nub, and suddenly he was jerking again, hips bucking in heave after heave.

I squeezed desperately to hold back but the boy's passionate response and
the tight sheathing of my hardness in his throat sent me over the edge.  I
exploded into him, feeling his arms tighten around me as he gagged and
tried to swallow the flood of semen spurting from my tip.  Bucking and
kicking, we clung together on the bed, our bodies heaving in release.

As my shuddering contractions slowed and stopped, JC's knees sagged apart
and his arms slipped from around my hips.  I pulled my fingers from his
gaping opening, lifted off his spent shaft and twisted around quickly.  The
boy lay sprawled, head turned to one side, strands of semen dripping from
the corner of a slack, open mouth.  I checked to be sure he was breathing
and gathered the limp, slender body into my arms, stroking and kissing
until JC stirred and hugged sweetly.

"You shouldn't hold your breath so long," I cautioned softly.

"It feels so good to do it with you."

The boy sighed and I caressed him, whispering endearments while he
squirmed, pulling a knee up onto my hip, rubbing his groin on my thigh...

I kissed his delicate ear and whispered, "Wait..."

Rolling over, I reached under the bed to retrieve some things I had stashed
there earlier; two screwdrivers, a thick wooden dowel with a rounded tip
and a tube of KY jelly.  While I laid them out JC watched a little
apprehensively.

"What are we gonna' do?"

I stroked his shoulder and leaned over to kiss his hair.  "I'll show you
how to slip those things inside you.  They're bigger then my fingers and
they'll help you learn how to stretch and open your little butt hole."

He nodded tensely.  "Like doing practice drills."

"Exactly like that."

"It won't hurt, will it?"  His eyes were wide and a little fearful.

I stroked him.  "No.  We'll go slow and if you do what I tell you it won't
hurt, it'll feel nice."  I paused, caressed him some more and then added.
"JC, if it does hurt you must tell me right away so we can stop.  If
there's damage we don't know about up inside then I'm gonna' have a doctor
check you out."

The boy flung himself against me, burying his face in my chest and putting
a protective hand over his butt.  "No, Coach," he said with a muffled sob.
"I would hate that."

"I know," I told him, petting and stroking.  "I know.  Listen JC, probably
everything will be fine, but we can't let anything bad be wrong and not
have it fixed.  I care about you too much to let that happen.  Now, trust
me..."

I laid the trembling boy face down on the bed, stroked until he calmed down
a little and then spread his long, slender legs so I could lubricate his
butt crease with the KY.  But JC remained tense and he trembled a little as
I spread the slippery jelly.

"I'm scared, Coach," he whispered looking back at me.

"Do you trust me, JC?"

He nodded.  "Yes," he said in a soft little voice.

"That's all you need to remember," I told him.

Glopping my fingers with KY I slipped them gently through the boy's scarred
ring and waited patiently for him to relax before sliding up further,
spreading the KY inside.  As I did this my other hand massaged the boy's
firm butt cheeks and gradually his trembling stopped.

"That feels so nice," he whispered.

"That's how it's supposed to feel.  Everything else will be nice, too,
you'll see."

JC squirmed a little.  "Coach?  You don't feel anything bad inside me, do
you?  I mean, it feels OK doesn't it?"

"Yes," I assured him.  "Everything feels OK.  I think you were very lucky."

I could tell he was relieved and after pulling my fingers out slowly I
moved them around his opening, rubbing over the ridge of scar tissue where
he had been torn.  "Feel this?"  I asked.

"Yeah."

"That's the part I'm worried about."

"But..."  JC turned his head to look back at me.  "It doesn't hurt now."

"I know.  But that ridge there is scar tissue, JC.  It's where you where
torn and healed over.  It can never be as strong again as it was before and
we have to be very careful not to let it ever tear again."

"How do we do that?"

"I'm going to teach you how to stretch and open yourself so you can do it
safely.  Then we can try doing it for real."

"Today?"  He tensed again.

"No.  Not until you've done a lot of practicing first."

JC put his head down on his folded arms and closed his eyes.  "OK, I'm
ready Coach"

"This will be just like the first time," I told him.  "I won't do anything
without telling you first.  I'm going to start with this."  I showed him
the handle of the smaller screwdriver.  "This will be easy.  It's only a
little thicker than my finger."

I smeared the handle with KY and placed it on his ring, pressing very
gently.  "Whenever you feel me do this," I told the boy, "I want you to
push down inside and open yourself, OK?"

I felt JC bear down and the opening widened.  With just a little pressure
the screwdriver handle disappeared into his body and, using the metal
shaft, I slid it back and forth, pushing until there was resistance.

JC squirmed and giggled a little.  "That feels weird."

He reached around and felt the slim metal shaft of the screwdriver sticking
out between his buttocks.  "Don't let it go too far," he said anxiously.
"It might not come back out!"

"I've got it," I soothed.

Gently I removed the screwdriver handle, inspected for blood and breathed a
sigh of relief.  If the boy had been badly damaged, I felt sure the
insertion of the small handle would have revealed it.

"Now we'll try this one," I told him, holding up the medium-sized
screwdriver.  "This handle is as wide as my two fingers."

After smearing the plastic with KY I pressed it on the boy's ring and felt
him tense as he bore down.  The handle slid in about half way and then I
felt resistance.  JC flinched.

"Does it hurt?"  I asked gently.

"N... Not exactly," JC caught his breath.  "It just feels...  kinda' big."

"Take your time.  I won't push or do anything until you're ready."

The boy reached around to feel where the handle was penetrating him.  His
fingers explored the handle and the stretched skin around it.

"It feels big."

"It's the same size as my two fingers," I assured him, "Just take your
time.  When you're ready, remember to push down really hard."

He stretched his arm back out in front of him and after a moment I could
feel him bearing down.  "Push harder," I encouraged.

JC strained and the ring opened.  I could feel the irregular scarred area
under the skin relax.  With only the slightest pressure the handle sank
into his body and JC let out a little moan, lifting his feet slightly as
the hard mass filled him.

"OK?"  I asked.

"Uh-huh."

I waited patiently.  The boy's eyes were closed and after a time he said
dreamily, "Coach it feels nice."

"No pain?"  I wanted to be sure.

JC shifted a little.  "Uh... it's hard to explain."  He stirred again and
then finally said, "It feels all full..."

"I understand.  Listen, I'm going to move it a little now."

"Yeah..."  The boy kept his eyes closed.

Very, very gently I began to pull and push the metal shaft of the
screwdriver while JC lay still with his eyes closed.  When I slowly
increased the length of the stroke his lips parted.  Then he pulled his
lower legs up slightly and gave a soft moan, "Uhhhhhhhhhh..."

I let him enjoy the sensation for a while before gradually slowing the
rhythm.

"Coach, don't stop," he whispered.

"Feels good?"

"Yeah...  Do it more."

"That's enough for this one," I said.  "I'm going to bring it out now."

"Nooooo...  Just a little more, Coach."

"Trust me," I whispered.

Gently I withdrew the handle from an opening now so relaxed it released
without any difficulty.  After confirming there was no blood I spread the
boy's butt cheeks and looked carefully at the stretched ring.  There were
no tears or any other damage.

Putting the boy's lovely smooth legs back together I rolled him onto his
side facing me and stretched out with his slender naked body in my arms.
JC kissed me and hugged, pressing his full length against mine.

"Coach, it's so good.  Please, please let's do more."

"We will right now," I told him.  "I'm going to show you what I want you to
do at home."

I pulled his upper leg onto my hip, stroked his silky butt and then reached
for the thick wooden dowel I had made for him.  It was hardwood, perfectly
smooth with a blunt tip and its thickness was less than my shaft but still
more then the screwdriver handle we had just used.

I lubricated the wood with KY, and carefully inserted the blunt end between
JC's butt cheeks.  The boy wrapped his arms around me and put his head
against my chest.  "I'm not scared this time, Coach," he told me proudly.
"I know you won't hurt me."

I kissed the top of his head.  "I so proud of you.  Listen, I want you to
reach back and push this thing inside.  I'll help you hold it, but I want
you to put it in.  OK?"

He nodded.  Reaching carefully behind himself he groped for the wooden
stick and grasped it below my fist, close to the head.  I felt him adjust
the tip to set it directly on his ring and then his body tensed as he bore
down.  The dowel moved in slightly.

"Oh," the boy gasped.  He held me tight with his other arm.

"Hurt?"  I asked softly.

"Uh-uh."  JC shook his head.  His fingers slid down the shaft to explore
around his opening.  "It feels really big."

"Take your time," I told him.  "Remember what to do?"

He nodded.  "Yeah...  Push down hard."

I waited patiently while JC repositioned his fist on the shaft.  He gripped
me very tightly with his other arm, pushed his face against my chest and
then his body tensed again.  When I felt his stomach muscles harden I
pushed with him and the wooden shaft slid smoothly up into his body.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh," moaned the boy.  He took his little fist off the wood and
while I held the long dowel in place he wound both arms around me.  "I did
it," he sighed, keeping his face pushed against me.  I felt his little
breaths on my skin.

"It feels so big," he said dreamily.

"Hurt?"  I asked.

"Mmmmmmmmm," the boy moaned softly, squirming a little against me.  "Not
really.  It's a big, stretching filling-me-up feeling."

"Do you want to rest?  Shall I take it out?"

"No!"  He put his hand back on the shaft and gripped it.  "Don't take it
out."

"I won't," I assured him.  "Take your time."

He kept his fist on the shaft for a few moments until he was sure I was not
going to move it, and then slipped his hand down between our bodies,
exploring himself.  "My boner's gone," he complained.  "I'm all soft."

I kissed his hair.  "It will be a while before you can do this and keep a
boner," I told him.  "You have to get used to it first."

He squirmed a little, pulling a knee up on my hip.  "Put it in more now,"
he whispered.

"You have to do it, remember?"

JC put his fist back on the dowel and twisted.  "Mmmmm..." he moaned again
softly.

Gripping me tightly with his other arm he bore down, pushed on the slippery
dowel and as it slid up farther JC arched in pleasure, his thigh straining
up off my hip.  He moaned again, "Ahhhhhhhh..." and was about to push
harder on the wooden shaft, but I held it back.

"Not too fast," I warned softly.

I felt a sudden moist warmth on my thighs and knew he had lost control of
his bladder.  The boy felt it, too.  He flinched, eyes opening wide with
terror.  "Coach!"  He cried.  "I'm bleeding.  I'm bleeding!"  He was nearly
hysterical.

I held him tightly.  "No, you're not.  You just peed, that's all.  It's
only pee.  That's all it is.  You're all right."

I took his hand and pushed it down between us so he could feel the little
bit of wetness around his limp penis.  "See?"  I told him.  "It's just a
little piss.  That's all."

"Oh, Coach, I'm sorry..."  JC clung to me, his body shaking. "I didn't mean
to.  I didn't!  Please don't be mad."

"Hey, hey, hey... "I soothed, kissing and stroking him.  "How could I ever
be mad at you?  I know you couldn't help it.  It's the wood thing pushing
on your bladder.  That's all.  It's OK."

It took a while to calm him, but finally he was snuggled against me with
the wooden shaft up deep inside.

"Coach, it feels so good," he sighed.  "I feel like I want more and more
and more of it in forever."

"I know."  My palm caressed his silky shoulder.

"Can you move it now?  Please?"

"Yeah.  But you have to promise me something."

"What?"

"Promise me that all you'll think about is how good you feel.  You won't
worry about peeing more or anything else.  OK?"

"I promise," he said.

Very slowly and very gently I began to slide the dowel in him, at first
moving it back and forth less than an inch.  The boy kept his arms locked
around me, head half turned and pressed against my chest.  As I increased
the stroke, sliding the shaft through his ring his lips parted and he
stared blankly, concentrating on the torrent of sensation flooding his
body.

"Ohhh...  Uhhhhhh...,"

The boy moaned as I moved the dowel in and out and I could tell he was
fully relaxed because the shaft moved freely.  I slid it faster and JC
groaned with pleasure.  His leg pulled up over my hip, foot twisting in
ecstasy as he surrendered to the thrusts impaling him.  Another warm
trickle ran over my thighs.

Back and forth, back and forth, I kept the dowel moving in hypnotic rhythm
while the boy moaned, slowly writhing, twisting around the shaft.  He
pushed a hand down into his groin to rub himself and when I felt him pump
faster I knew he was stiff again.  The boy's face took on an expression of
rapt concentration and he began to pant.  Then his little cries came faster
and louder and I felt his body shudder.  He arched, gripping me very
tightly with his free arm, lifted his thigh up off my hip and rubbed even
harder.

When the boy's head drew back, his mouth opening, I pushed the dowel into
him and held it in place as he gave a long soft cry of passion.  His hips
bucked, and then his whole body was heaving, jerk after jerk, little warm
spurts of boy come hitting my thighs.

At last he collapsed against me, limp body sprawled on mine.  "Oh Coach,"
he whispered, "That's so good...  So good..."

I kissed him on the cheek and he hugged, snuggling against me.  Letting go
of the dowel I let it be expelled by his muscular little butt.

"Nooooooooooo," the boy whispered as he felt it slide out.

"It's time for you to rest now," I told him, kissing his cheek again.

I examined the blunt tip of the dowel closely.  There was no blood.

Holding the boy tightly I stroked his silky body patting, caressing and
then massaging his rounded butt as gradually his gaping ring closed.  For a
long while the boy was content to lie against me, dozing in the aftermath
of release.  Finally he pressed his sweet slender body on mine, opened his
eyes and stirred.

"Will it always be like that?" he asked dreamily.

I smiled and kissed him.  "Always."

"When can we do it for real?"

"When I'm sure you're ready."

JC hugged against me.  "I want it so much."

"I know.  I do, too.  For me and you both."

"Don't wait too long," the boy pleaded.

"I won't." I assured him.  "I know how much you want to do it before you
change anymore."

JC shook his head.  "It's not just that, Coach," he told me, voice breaking
a little.

I reached down and lifted his face.  His eyes were full of tears.  "What is
it, JC?"

"There's something I haven't told you," the boy said miserably.

I smiled.  "Let me guess.  You haven't told me because you thought I'd be
mad and wouldn't like you."

JC gave me a heartbreaking look through his tears.  "Oh Coach...  I know
you won't be mad.  In the beginning I worried about that, but not now."  He
paused a moment.  "I haven't told you because it hurts to tell you."

I stroked his cheek, brushing a tear away.  "What is it, JC?"

He sighed.  "Coach, my grandfather's sending me away to school.  This is
probably the last summer I'll ever be here."

Even though I had been half expecting it, the pain of finally knowing was
not any less.  I closed my eyes for a few moments and then opened them
again.  JC was looking at me miserably so I smiled and kissed him.

"And you're wanting to go, aren't you?"

"Oh yes, Coach," he said, face brightening.  "It'll be a real school, with
boys who want to learn like me, and they have so many interesting
things..."  He gazed up at me eagerly.  "They have a swimming team, Coach!
And a baseball team!  I wanna' get on them and be best at everything!"

Then his sensitive little face fell and he looked miserable again.  "I
really do want to go.  But I'm going to miss you, Coach.  I'm going to miss
you so much."

I kissed him again and hugged him.  "And I'll miss you, JC," I said,
struggling to keep my voice steady, "But you have to go.  It wouldn't be
right for you not to.  You have to go and do all those things, and develop
all the wonderful gifts you've been given."

I stroked his blond hair.  "It's how life must be always, JC.  When you go
on to new things, there will always be some old things you have to give up
because they can't go with you.  You mustn't be too sad."

JC hugged me.  "But, I'll still miss you."

"All this means," I told him, "Is that we have to make the most of the time
we have."

We clung together, listening to the rain pouring down outside, and then JC
whispered, "Coach, I want to stay with you tonight."

"Can you fix it with your folks?"

He nodded.

"Then let's do it," I said, kissing the boy as he pressed against me.

 [ To Be Continued In Parts D and E ]

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
Hope you enjoyed it!  This baseball series has a 'long' short story for
every position.  Look for a new chapter or two each month.

Thanks for taking the time to read my story and if you'd like to comment,
my e-mail address is:

			hunterjoe45@yahoo.com

I will try to answer all serious mailings.  My on-line access is very
limited.  Rants and ravings will not get consideration.

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contributions and keep the Archive online.  Check the Nifty home page for
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You can find links to all my other stories on Nifty under my name, Joe
Hunter, listed under the J's (for Joe) in the prolific authors list.  To
get that list click the Authors tab at the top of the Nifty home page and
then select 'Prolific Authors'.  I hope you will read and enjoy!

All the Best.  Joe