Date: Fri, 19 Apr 2013 05:10:31 -0700 (PDT) From: Joe Hunter Subject: Baseball Diamond Tails - 8G 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 To all you readers who enjoy these stories, please support Nifty with contributions and keep the Archive online. Check the Nifty home page for ways to make contributions. Without this Archive those of us who write for you will lose a wonderful resource to get our stories out. I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Support Nifty! Joe ____________________________ BASEBALL DIAMOND TAILS - 8G (copyright 2013, Joe Hunter) ::::::::::::::::::::::: Center Field: Part G ::::::::::::::::::::::: It was overcast when I woke up on Saturday morning; a sense of heaviness was in the air when I took out the trash. "Thunderstorm weather," I mumbled to myself. Right away I knew there would only be a 50-50 chance of getting our afternoon game in. At nine o'clock I was thinking of driving over to the field so I could watch both the weather and the morning game, when my doorbell rang. It was Casey, all dressed up in his uniform, accompanied by Ruth. "Can he stay with you, Coach?" she asked, obviously expecting me to say yes. "I've gotta get Cody to his game. They're playing a doubleheader if the weather doesn't get bad." "No problem," I assured her, gesturing for Casey to come inside. "I'll take care of him. Want me to bring him over to Cody's field when we finish, or take him home?" "You can take him home," Ruth replied, checking her watch. "He has a key. We might go late at Cody's games. And then, I've got to get some shopping done..." We left it at that. Ruth headed off--and the moment my door was closed Casey was in my arms. "Hey, Tiger," I whispered after kissing him. "It's good to see you." The boy giggled, squirming against me. "Take pictures," he begged. We hurried to get my camera--Casey knew where it was--and then I put makeup on him; lipstick, a touch of eye shadow, a bit of darkening to his eyebrows. He posed for me in front of the blank wall in his clean uniform; gleaming white baseball pants molded like a second skin to lean hips and firm thighs, the folds of colorful T-shirt, not as tight-fitting as the pants, still giving a tantalizing hint of Casey's perfectly sculpted wrestling-hard torso. Outside, the overcast sky provided diffused soft light that filled the room without shadow. I used a long exposure to compensate and had the boy shift his ball cap back a bit so his pretty features would not be obscured by the visor. Moving around to get different angles, I took shot after shot while my lovely centerfielder displayed himself proudly. From our previous sessions, Casey had learned how erotic his images could be. That knowledge, and that confidence, was now in his eyes, face, and every line of his lean athletic body. Every pose brought the power of his young adolescent beauty radiating from him like a magic aura. When he slowly began to strip, removing his shirt first, it was all I could do to keep my hands steady to aim the camera. "Yeah... That's it... Like that... Like that..." I whispered, circling to one side then the other, snapping more images. Casey leaned against the wall with his arms up over his head, hips thrust out, the light bringing out nuances of definition in his smooth naked chest and tummy. "Yeah... Oh, yeah!" He unbuttoned the pants, letting the fly gape; posed that way for a few shots, looking coyly into the lens; then drew the skintight pants off revealing a sight so stunning that for heartbeat after heartbeat I forgot to breathe. My centerfielder was not wearing a jock. Instead he had carefully fashioned a homemade thong from something. At first I thought it had been an old tight brief. Then I realized it was the smooth silky fabric of a little girl's panty. The front scrap of cloth bulged, barely containing Casey's hard jutting boner. All the rest was bare, except for the tiny bit of elastic holding the thing in place around his small taut waist. The boy's glossy smooth hips, the hard rounded curve of muscle in his bubble butt, were revealed for the camera lens. I was so hard I had to readjust my shorts before I could move around to record the breathtaking, literally breathtaking, images. With Casey clad in only ball cap, thong, and high socks I posed him both standing and kneeling, urging him to twist in various ways to dramatically show off the perfection of his silky form. We finished with shots of him stretched in simulated erotic abandon on the floor. "Where'd you get that?" I asked, gesturing at the thong. Casey regarded me coyly, eyes gleaming. It was obvious he knew exactly what effect his little surprise was having on me. Finally he explained with a giggle, "Cody like sneaked it from this girl he knows. He's been usin' it to, like, beat off with." Stopping, hugging himself, Casey grinned mischievously and then went on. "I sneaked it from him. He like thought it got in the wash. He was scared my mom was gonna find it..." This memory was obviously so pleasant Casey savored it for a few seconds. Then he stretched out on the floor, wiggling his hips. "He don't know I got it. I tried makin' somethin' with a jock, but this is way better." "It sure is!" My voice was so husky with passion I could barely get the words out. With a squeeze of his butt, my lovely boy made the bulge of his homemade thong lift upward and I snapped off two more pictures. "Coach, can I like get my neck beads an' stuff?" Casey asked. We put on his bead necklace and wrist rings, then Casey removed his tiny thong, stepping out of it carefully, and posed for me wearing only high socks and ball cap. In the diffused light from the outside his smooth defined young body glowed like polished marble. His rigid boyhood jutted, a hard quivering spike. Unencumbered by restricting clothes, reveling in his perfection and erotic beauty, Casey flaunted himself for the camera, twisting, flexing, arching in wonton display, contorting into dramatically seductive positions, openly in love with himself and what he was doing. When the battery light in my camera started to blink I tossed it aside, not bothering to replace it, not interested in reviewing the hundreds of images I had just taken. I was so close to coming in my pants that my only thought was to get naked and have the boy. Casey watched, face lit with anticipation, as I stripped. Too aroused to bother with either bedroom or bed, we took each other right there, rolling on the floor, bodies entwined, hardly aware of the scratchy carpet. Mouths wide open in a deep kiss we breathed each other's breaths. Then I was licking down Casey's lean athletic body, sucking on each of his tiny nipples. After flicking my tongue on their hard little points, I licked down past the vee of his ribs, tongued the hard lines of definition in his slender tummy, swirled my tongue tip in his belly button, and finally licked down over glossy lean belly to the prize--the rigid quivering bone of boy stick, straining outward. Moaning in passion, Casey arched up, his rock-hard four inches throbbing the second I began coating its slick skin with saliva. I sucked it into my mouth, taking it all, curling my tongue around the quivering spike, sliding my lips on it while my tongue slid over the blunt tip. Casey jerked. Sweetness oozed from his slit. And then the boy was moaning, thrusting... hips bucking in wild frenzy. "Uh... Uh... Uh... Uh... Uh... Ooo... Ooo... Coach... Coach... Coach..." Casey's socked legs wrapped around me. Using his hands to hold my head in place, he thrust again and again, humping my mouth. "Ah... Ahhhhhhhhhh..." The first little spurt of sweetness was all that came, but everything within Casey, all the frustrated longing of his boyish ardor was striving to make more. The result was a long continuing spasm of throbbing pulsations. Jerk after jerk shook the boy, on and on... my hands, lips, and tongue took him to immature release over and over again, each barely stopping before another began. By that time I was so close, pre-cum was leaking from my tip all over the carpet. Disentangling from Casey's legs, I switched position, turned around so my hips were above the boy's head, and he lunged for me, sucking my full-length into his mouth so quickly his teeth grazed my shaft. The unpleasant sensation halted the rising tide in my loins just enough to put off my release. Holding my blunt tip in his throat, Casey threw his arms around my hips, locked me in place and crossed his heels up behind my neck in a desperate attempt to keep thrusting into my mouth as he moaned and heaved. "Ummpf... Ummpf... Ummpf... Ummpf... Ummmmmmmmm..." Another series of throbs jerked the boy. I licked on his tip, then switched my attention to his taut little nut sack, licking and sucking on it before sliding my tongue further down into his crease. The boy strained his lovely thighs apart, giving me a clear path to his clenched opening. My tongue swirled on it. Then I thrust the tip through the clenched muscle, invading the musky chamber beyond as Casey hugged with his arms, groaning in passion. Once my tongue had opened and slicked the passage I withdrew so I could insert a finger, pushing up past the second knuckle, wiggling the tip. Casey moaned again. Loosening his grip on me, he pulled back on my rigid man pole far enough to gasp, "Awwwww... Coathhhh... Oaarrrr... Oaarrrr... Oaan thaaaw... Oaarrrr..." Mouth full of my hardness, breaths coming in gasps, the boy could barely say the words, but I knew he wanted more and was pleading with me not to stop. Tensing, he arched, mouth opened wide in another long moan, "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh..." Then in a huge spasm the boy jerked, hips thrusting as I shoved in a second finger, then a third, massaging back and forth on his firm little nub, with Casey heaving beneath me. Leaving my fingers in place, I moved my head back to take Casey's boy stick into my mouth once again. It was rock hard, slippery sweetness dribbling from the slit. Wiggling my fingers in him while manipulating his rigid boyhood with lips and tongue, I brought him to another shattering, heaving climax. Casey's rigid shaft jerked in my mouth. He locked his heels again behind my neck, using the leverage he gained to strain his thighs apart in a desperate attempt to open himself as far as he could. "Uhhh... Uhhh... Uhhh... Uhhh..." He panted, mouth open wide and his tongue no longer working on me. But I needed no more stimulation. The squirming and writhing of his hard young body on my own was more than enough. Pressure ramped up within me. Squeezing my butt I tried to hold back... arching... tensing... My fingers wiggling in Casey's boy hole... "Ahhhhh!" With a sudden gush, the floodgates broke and I was bucking, thrusting my hips, filling Casey's mouth in heave after heave. Spurts of semen shot from my tip and I felt Casey struggling to swallow. It was a huge release, almost painful in intensity, and when it ended it was all I could do to keep my weight off the boy while I gasped for breath, heart pounding... "Ah... Uhhhh..." I rolled to the side, still panting, and Casey went with me, turning around to half roll onto my chest, tugging at my hand, pulling it down toward his butt. "More, Coach.... Do it more! That thing. Do more!" I was wilting quickly, but the boy was still rigidly hard. I gave his quivering boyhood a quick rub with my fingers and Casey squeezed to swell his shaft. Then I slid my fingers on his glossy hip, stroking back around to the twin globes of his perfect rear end. "You like that, huh?" "Uh-huh!" Casey reached back to push my fingers into his crease and I rubbed back and forth over his opening but did not try to penetrate him. "Was that like fucking?" Casey asked, squirming to push his throbbing boy stick on my side. "Sort of," I answered, nodding. "Finger fucking." "I wanna do it more!" Casey tried pushing at my hand again. "Please, Coach!" "It's time we were gettin' over to the field," I told him. "Time to get ready for the game." At that moment I was so spent I wasn't even sure I could get up, let alone make it to the field, but boy-like, Casey was ready to go at it all day--and would have if I could have matched him. He rolled onto his back, stretched, and then arched, displaying his jutting boner while wiggling his hips seductively. "Cody says like kids stick stuff up their butts. Is that true, Coach?" "Sure," I told him, nodding. "Why not? It felt good, didn't it?" "Yeah!" Casey let the tip of his tongue show at the corner of his mouth. With another squirm he said, "Cody says he put his cock in Billy Taylor's butt. That's fucking, right?" "Yeah." Smiling, I reached over to tickle Casey's hard lean tummy. He giggled, grabbing at my wrist. "You can like do that to me if you want," he said, not looking at me. Then, when my hand stopped tickling him as I caught the full impact of his words, he turned to give me a coy smile. "You can fuck me, Coach. I'll let you." "You really want to?" My throat felt thick so I had trouble getting the words out. "Uh-huh." Casey nodded, his eyes on mine. "You can't go talkin' about it like Cody does." This brought a disdainful gesture. "My brother's a stupido." Casey pronounced it in the Spanish way. "Billy likes him a lot. So he let him do it, an' Cody talked about it. He's a jerk. I'd never do that." Casey regarded me very seriously. "And you wouldn't either, Coach." "No." "I pretend to like Cody," Casey went on, looking away, staring out the glass windows to the balcony. "I do it 'cause like my mom an' dad think he's so great. But my brother's stupid. I wish I didn't have to live with him, but I do. Not too much longer, though. He's makin' like this big fuss about havin' his own room. My mom will let him. You can bet he'll get the nice room, an' I'll get stuck in the little guest room. But it'll be worth it. I won't have to listen to him all the time." I stared at Casey, seeing the boy in a different way than I ever had before. He lay there on the floor beside me, supporting himself on his elbows, naked except for high socks and ball cap, lean wiry boy athlete body aglow in the diffused light, every line etched like sculpture. He might have been a model for one of the lovely Greek boys seen on old pottery. I wanted him so bad then my loins ached, but I was momentarily spent--and time pressed. "We gotta get to the game now, Tiger." I got up, held out a hand, and Casey took it so I could pull him to his feet. "You gonna wear that sexy thing under your pants for the game?" "Uh-huh!" "People are gonna think you're naked under your uniform!" This made him giggle. I led him off to the bathroom where we washed off his makeup because, as I told him, "Lipstick on my centerfielder might take us just a little too far over the top!" This brought forth more giggles. * * * * * Our game that Saturday afternoon, played under a lowering sky that darkened ominously in the final inning, was a gem. I pitched Cowboy, then Kelly; a 12-year-old righty, 11-year-old lefty combination that shut down the other team. They were Corner Gulf, a good well coached bunch with fair talent, but we handled them easily on that occasion. Casey played well, snagging the occasional fly in center field, directing the outfield for me, and hitting two singles as well as a double, so he was on base every time he came to bat. I found it impossible to take my eyes off him. Without briefs or jock underneath, the tight baseball pants looked as if they were spray-painted onto his hips, thighs, and hard jutting rear. I was sure some parent would notice and complain, but no one did. When Casey was up at bat, my concentration on the rest of the game was gone as I admired him. Aside from our victory and Casey's appearance, that game was notable for only two other things--Will's father, and Dink's fight. When I arrived at the field with Casey, as I was parking the SUV, Will and Matt approached me, bringing their father, a lanky middle-aged man with long sideburns and deep set mournful eyes. "Coach," he said, shaking hands with me. "I wanted to thank you..." "Appreciate it," I told him. "But I don't deserve too much thanks. It's the right thing to do. You know it, and I know it. I just wish I'd known about your bad luck sooner. I know I coulda fixed it so the kids were playin'. Believe me--they're not gonna miss out on football or wrestling! I got that taken care of already. You don't need to worry about it." "Coach..." The man was shaking his head, looking embarrassed. "I can't let you..." I held up a hand. "It's already done. I'm telling you. It's all arranged, and you don't need to say anything. Everyone--an' I mean everyone--was glad to help out. Will and Matt, here..." I ruffled Will's hair and gave Matt's shoulder a tap, "They're terrific kids. I know how proud you are of them. Everyone wants them participating, an' everyone's rooting for you, too. I don't want you worrying about anything but finding another job. Remember--we all got your back." Will's dad and I shook again, and then he gave me help lugging the equipment bags over to the field. We were the visiting team for that game, so we had the first base dugout. And it was being in the first base dugout that set me up for the second notable incident--Dink's bodily assault on the entire Corner Gulf team. It happened in the bottom of the third inning. Corner Gulf was up at bat and we were in the field with Dink playing at third base, where I had been using him off and on as I gave some of the better 11-year-olds opportunities to play in the infield. When we were on defense, my coaching position was kneeling by our first base dugout, keeping an eye on my pitcher. Lance, who more and more was becoming a fixture as my assistant, crouched beside me. Steve, the Corner Gulf manager, was one of those who liked to give signals to his batters from the first base coaching box instead of at third. So he was a few feet from us on that side of the field, too. Thus we all missed what was occurring over at third base. None of us was prepared for what happened at the end of the inning. Slick, handling second base at the time, made a nice play on a bouncing ground ball. He tagged the runner going from first to second for the third out. My boys started trotting toward our dugout... and suddenly all hell broke loose over on the other side of the field! Yells and shouts came from the Corner Gulf dugout. There was a thumping sound of bodies crashing against plywood walls. One of the Corner Gulf players, a boy nicknamed Cujo, popped out of the dugout, looking over toward us, gesturing frantically to his coach. The three of us--me, Lance, and Steve--ran across the diamond to find pandemonium in the Corner Gulf dugout. There was a pile of boy bodies all pushing, shoving, and shouting. I stayed out of the way while Steve sorted it out, pulling kids off the pile, sternly demanding that they all, "Knock it off!" Revealed at the bottom of everything, crouched between the front and rear benches, knee in the crotch of a squirming Corner Gulf player that he held trapped on the ground, was Dink. In addition to kneeing his squirming opponent in the balls, Dink was also pummeling him, and it looked to me like the kid would be coming out with black eyes, a bloody nose, and who knew what else--in addition to some very sore privates. A line from that great movie "The Bad News Bears" occurred to me: "I just hope he was wearing his cup." I darn near came out with it, but managed to suppress myself at the last second because I suspected Steve might not be in the right appreciative mood. "What the hell!" he was yelling. He pulled Dink up off the prostrate Corner Gulf player. I rescued Dink from my angry fellow coach's grasp and wrapped arms around the kid because he was struggling to get loose, screaming, "Lemme go, Coach! I'm gonna kill that mouthy bastard!" "Settle down, Hot Shot," I told him, taking a calm, reasoned tone. "What got this started? What's it all about?" Dink pulled his head back to look up at me, eyes blazing with anger. "That little punk said somethin' about Indians!" I had to suppress a smile and maintain my 'manager face' because the "little punk" that Dink was referring to--the boy Steve was helping sit up--was a 12-year-old, at least a head taller and 20 pounds heavier than Dink. "Seems like there was some provocation here," I told Steve, thus getting in the first punch for what was sure to be a 'blame game'. "That's no reason for runnin' in here to start a war!" Steve retorted. He was trying to wipe the blood off his blubbering player's face. "I'll have to send this kid to the hospital. I'm gonna report this to the League!" By that time our entire team had run over, ready to join in. I handed Dink off to Lance and gestured for him to get everyone back to our dugout. "Come on, Steve," I told my fellow coach. "It's not like he was ganging up on the kid. I mean, what were the odds? 12 to 1? Gimme a break! Your kid needs to learn not to run his mouth! What was mine supposed to do?" "He's supposed to tell you and let the umpire handle it," Steve retorted. He had his player sitting up and it looked like the blood was down to an occasional drip. The boy had stopped crying. "Well the ump didn't..." I started to say, when a deep voice behind me growled, "The ump would've if he'd heard it!" I jerked my head around and there was our plate umpire, a huge dark blue bulky presence in his protective gear, glaring at us. He looked at Steve. "What the hell are you lettin' your players mouth off for? Can't you keep 'em under control? Now you got the game held up, an' we're all gonna get wet if we don't finish soon..." I backed away out of the line of fire and trotted to my first base side, signaling Lance to send our first batter in the fourth inning to the plate. The umpire settled everything down, we got a few hits, scored a run, and then when it was our turn to take the field again I switched Kelly for Cowboy at pitcher, put Cowboy at third, and moved Dink out to left field. After that there was no further problem. I found the entire incident hard to take seriously. Except for the slight dusky tinge to his complexion, Dink looked about as much 'Indian' as I did, but the 'Code of the Manager' required me to say something to him, so after the game ended I took him aside. "He called me a dirty little Indian," Dink protested, knowing what I was about to say. "He called my mom a squaw bitch!" Nodding sympathetically, I told him, "Yup. I figured it was something like that. Listen, Hot Shot, I'm not saying what you did was wrong, but..." "I know, Coach." Dink hung his head. "I shoulda told you." Suddenly he looked up at me. "I didn't, like, get you in trouble, did I?" "Nothin' I can't handle." I gave him a fond caress. "If Steve... er, the Corner Gulf coach, complains to the League he's in for a surprise. Our League President has Indian heritage that he's very proud of. I don't think there'll be anything more said once I explain it to him." With a stroke of my palm I ruffled the boy's curly black hair. "It's you I'm worried about." Dink cocked his head. "Whatdya' mean, Coach?" "We got rules against taunting in this League. And in the Colt League, and Middle School Leagues. But what about when you play Legion Ball? Or college? They allow chatter there, and if someone thinks they can take you off your game by calling you or your mom names, they'll do it. Then what?" Dink scrunched up his face as he thought about it. "It's kinda like that sportsmanship thing, ain't it? Like what Bone was tellin' me." "You got it, kid." My hand caressed him again. "You think it over and let's try to stay outta fights on the field, okay?" I winked at him. "I'm not sayin' you can't get into 'em other places. Know what I mean? Just be smart." There were a few seconds while the impact of my words sank in. Then Dink's face lit up with a huge grin. "Thanks, Coach." "Any time, Hot Shot." I winked again. "That's what you guys pay me for. To give you great advice." For an instant, Dink's face was a study in confusion. "We don't pay you..." he started to say. Then he was looking at me again, eyes full of sly amusement. "Okay, Coach." I held out a palm for him to slap before I walked away. There were other things I needed to do, other players and parents I had to talk with. By the time I got finished I discovered that the team equipment bags had already been packed up and put away in my SUV. "Me and Lance took care of it," Casey informed me when I arrived at the vehicle. Gusts of wind were stirring dust devils out on the field and the sky was starting to look very black. "Let's boogie," I told him as we hustled into the car. I stopped off at a Subway on the drive home to get a snack for us. Then we sped across town, put the SUV in the garage, and ran upstairs to my apartment, beating the rain by only minutes. "Nice going today, Tiger," I whispered as soon as we were inside with the door locked. Casey melted into my arms, his only reply a kiss. Winding arms around my neck, his mouth opened wide to take in my tongue. I slid my palms over him, feeling the boy's hard wiry body shifting beneath the thin fabric of his tee shirt. My longing for the boy was so great I was trembling with anticipation. Mouths locked together, breathing each other's breaths, we writhed on each other, Casey squirming to rub the hard bulge of his crotch against my side. Everything in me wanted my centerfielder naked, all his perfection, all his beauty revealed to my possessing eye; a treasure to be fondled and ravished by me alone, his silky smoothness pressed against me. I started to pull his shirt up, but Casey broke our kiss, shaking his head. "Not yet," he whispered. "Lemme show you. I want my stuff." In the kitchen, where I kept Casey's neck beads and wrist rings in a drawer, I watched as the boy put them on. It was all I could do to keep myself from pulling him close, ripping his clothes off and having him right there. Perhaps sensing this, excited by it, and fully aware of his power, my centerfielder regarded me with a coy smile. He posed momentarily, showing off both himself and his decorative things. Then, taking me by the hand, he led me back to my bedroom. I was more than ready, my cock throbbing in my pants, but when I reached for him, Casey stepped back with another smile. "Wait..." He disappeared into the bathroom and I sat down on the edge of the bed, my heart pounding. I heard the click of the medicine cabinet opening, then sounds of a drawer being pulled out. A minute went by... two.... I was trembling with eagerness. Standing up, I was about to head for the bathroom when Casey appeared. He had made himself up, doing it perfectly, his pretty eyes shadowed, long delicate lashes mascaraed, eyebrows penciled and his lips reddened. The cosmetics heightened the appeal of his boyish features, making him appear even more beguiling, innocent; yet at the same time lending a sense of sinful worldliness. With his graceful athletic form, if we had exchanged his baseball uniform for Ottoman Empire court dress, he might have been a boy janissary, one of the boy Christian slaves, raised as a catamite, innocent appearing as a babe, yet steeped in knowledge as old as time. "Watch, Coach," he told me before I could reach for him. He was holding one of the gauzy head wraps we had bought along with his beads and wrist rings. Using it as a prop, Casey began a slow striptease, undulating his slender body. It was not dancing. There was no music--although there should have been. What he was doing was so seductive I could almost supply the music in my head. Instead of dancing, it was more a series of poses, one merging into another, the boy showing off for me while at the same time, bit by bit, removing his clothes. First the ball cap came off. Casey regarded me with a calm expression as he removed it, placing it on a corner of the bed with a graceful bow. Maintaining the same calm expression, eyes always on mine, he pulled the shirt up, exposing his lean hard midriff. He posed briefly, letting me admire him, then lifted the shirt's edge over his head and posed again with his smooth chest and tummy on display, the shirt pulled tight around his neck and armpits. He stood, one arm clasped behind his head, hips thrust forward, and let the silky square of fabric he was holding slide back and forth over his bare skin while he looked down, admiring himself. I watched the silken cloth slip back and forth over Casey's chest, the slick fabric catching on the tiny hard points of his nipples. Still maintaining the calm expression, my centerfielder removed his shirt completely, tossed it aside and put his ball cap back on, leaving the cloth he had been using on the bed. Eyes on mine, he rubbed a palm over the hard glossy sheath of his narrow tummy. Then he unbuttoned the tight baseball pants, pausing to assume a hipshot pose with the fly gaping open. Undulating his hips, he worked the pants down inch by inch, the pouch of his homemade thong tented out so far it barely contained his jutting boner. I stared, mesmerized, as first the shiny sides of his hips were revealed, then the gloriously smooth rounded forms of his lovely thighs. The boy turned slowly from side to side, letting me admire the full rounded curves of his silky butt. Then he pulled the tight pants down further, working his slim perfectly formed legs out one by one. He kicked the pants away and stood in front of me, posing once again, clad only in ball cap, thong, and high socks. Twisting his graceful body, Casey arched to show himself off, head pulled back, eyes half closed. Slowly, sensuously, he rubbed hands over his silky chest, feeling the hard little points of each nipple, then sliding palms down his glossy flanks and across the hard sheath of his tummy. When his hands reached the hollow of his small taut waist, pushing on the string of his thong, he worked it down on one side than the other until at last the scrap of cloth dangled, hooked on the rigid boy stick that was poking straight out beneath, hard and quivering. Eyes on mine, Casey gently pulled the thong aside, letting it fall down to his feet. He stepped out of it. Clad now in only ball cap and high socks, he picked the gauzy wrap up off the bed and slid it on his naked skin, assuming pose after pose, twisting, turning, arching.... With a squeeze of his muscular little butt, he hardened his boner, making it jut proudly, displaying himself for me in complete abandon. Back and forth went the silky square of fabric, gauzy material emphasizing the boy's smoothness in the way it slipped over his elegant slender body. As Casey was aroused by the cloth's feathery touch I heard his breaths come faster; his posing became even more erotic. Eyes closed, he turned sideways, arching, rigid boy stick straining outward. Then moving to the bed, he fell back onto it, legs dangling off the side, thighs spread wide, arms flung behind his head, eyes staring upward. "Blow me," he pleaded in a husky whisper. "Uhhhhh... Blow me. Please, Coach..." I was already ripping off my clothes. The front of both my boxers and jeans were soaked with pre-cum. I knelt and went down on Casey, sliding his four inch boy stick into my mouth, and the instant my tongue curled around it the slick shaft pulsed in hard quick contractions that jerked the boy, bucking his hips. He wrapped sock clad legs around me, reached down to hold my head, and then went into spasm after heaving spasm as I used lips and tongue on him while sliding palms on the exquisite glossy smoothness of Casey's hips and waist. I lost count of the number of times I brought him off. The boy heaved on the bed, jerking and moaning, rubbing my head with his hands, lost in passion, begging again and again for, "More... More, Coach... Do it more..." At last when I tired, Casey reluctantly let me pull off him. He lay with his eyes closed, panting, sprawled on the bed, apparently spent. But even as I thought that, I was quickly undeceived. Boy-like, Casey was only getting started. "Now fuck me, Coach," he pleaded, eyes opening wide to look at me. He lifted up, supporting his weight on his elbows, staring straight at me. "You can fuck me. I'll let you." Nothing more needed to be said. The boy wanted it and so did I. Just hearing him say the words made my hips jerk involuntarily. If I hadn't squeezed as hard as I could to hold back I would have shot my load. Holding up my hand in a gesture for the boy to wait, I almost ran to the bathroom, grabbed a thick towel, lubricant, then hurried back. Together we spread the towel on the bed, and I positioned Casey kneeling, facing away from me, his slender thighs spread. We turned his ball cap so the visor was to the side, then giving him a pillow to hold against his chest, I leaned the boy forward until he was hunched over, face on the soft coverlet and hard glossy curve of perfect butt jutting upward. Casey's awkwardness and uncertainty made it obvious he had never done it before. I parted his cheeks to expose the tender virgin hole and he giggled as I pushed in gobs of KY with my finger. Squirming, he wiggled his rear end seductively. Hold still," I told him, my voice thick with passion. "It feels good already. Are you doin' it?" "Only my finger. When I go in it might hurt at first." Casey wiggled his butt again. "I don't care." "Okay. Hold still." Applying more gel, I inserted a second finger and heard Casey's quick intake of breath as I massaged his firm little nub. "Feel good?" "Mmmmmm..." The boy hunched even more, trying to raise his butt higher, pushing against the thrust of my two digits. I squeezed more gel onto my hand and started working in a third finger, easing it bit by bit through the boy's stretched opening. Casey squirmed a bit. "Mmppfff!" "Push down like you're takin' a dump," I instructed. "Push real hard." Tensing his body, Casey bore down and I felt his entrance loosen. My third finger slipped up the rest of the way and I wiggled all three in my centerfielder's hot moist cavity, stretching his hole while at the same time passing my fingertips back and forth over his nub. "Uhhhhhhh..." Casey moaned, bearing down even harder, doing everything he could to open himself. I felt a throb in his loins. The boy jerked and suddenly the muscle guarding his entrance clamped on me. "Ooooooo..." "It's okay." I put the KY tube down and stroked the boy's silky flank. "It's okay. Just go with it. Keep pushing down..." Again, Casey's hard wiry body tensed. With a flutter the spasm in his muscle passed and I wiggled my three fingers some more, then slowly withdrew. With a sigh, Casey relaxed. "Is that, like, it?" He sounded disappointed. I hastened to reassure him. "Nah. That was just to get you ready. Like warming up before a game. Are you okay?" "Uh-huh." Casey wiggled his butt, hunching down again to spread his cheeks and thrust up. "Come on, Coach. Do me! I wanna!" "Okay, Hot Shot. Gimme a chance to get ready, too." Hands trembling in my eagerness, I slicked my upthrust man rod with Hawaiian Tropic oil, making it glisten wetly in the dim light. Rain was drumming on the windows, there was a distant rumble of thunder. Casey squirmed again. "Come on, Coach!" "Almost ready." I spread KY all over my pole for additional slipperiness, then leaned over the boy whose pale form lay open before me. My arousal level, briefly dampened by the need to instruct and prepare him, was now so high again I nearly lost it pushing my blunt tip on the dimple of his hole. The moment he felt me, Casey tensed, bearing down to open. "Unnngghhhhhh..." Groaning, the boy strained as I went in. I used one hand to steady myself. With the other I both guided and pushed on my tip, going very slowly because, despite the stretching by my fingers, the boy was still tight. His virgin ring squeezed around my blunt head. I advanced, millimeter by millimeter. "Mmmmffff!" Casey pressed his face down against the bed covers, hard muscular body quivering in the effort he was making to open. I slipped in a bit further... a bit further... With a sudden popping sensation my helmeted tip was through, enveloped by moist heat. Casey gasped at the penetration, but he continued to bear down, keeping his passage open. There was the merest flutter of protest from his stretched sphincter, then it relaxed and before I could stop myself I had advanced even further into his spongy depths. The boy groaned, "Unghh..." "Okay?" I asked, leaning over him. "S'big!" "Yeah..." Looking down I saw my rigid shaft half buried in his ass, a sight that made me shudder in passion. Every fiber of my being was screaming for me to thrust, but with an effort I made myself work in slowly, grinding my hips, sliding... sliding in... "Uhh... Aghhhh..." A spasm of Casey's muscle tone tried to eject me and I could hear the boy sucking through his teeth. I held still, afraid to hurt him, but after a moment Casey squirmed, and with a hard push of his rear up against me, shoved my hardness all the way in. "Ungggghuummfff..." With a groan Casey shuddered, every muscle in tension. I could feel my groin push against the smooth mounds of his butt. Wrapping arms around him, holding him in place, I ground my hips, moving my tip deep in his guts, feeling the boy's heat, the depth of him. In his lower belly a bulge that was my upthrust rod pressed on my encircling arm. "Uh... Uh, uh... Uhhhhhhhh..." Thrusting his rear up against me, Casey tried to deepen my penetration even more. Then he shuddered and with a soft cry jerked as throb after throb pulsed in his loins. A rippling sensation squeezed my sheathed rod like massaging fingers. "Ahhhhhh... Ooooooo... Coaaaaachhh..." The pulsing eased. I withdrew a fraction of an inch, thrust back, and began a rhythmic sliding in the now gaping passage. Casey moaned again, quivering. Bit by bit I increased the action until half my length was pistoning in and out through his hole. Panting, clutching at the bed covers, Casey lifted his rear end to meet every one of my inward thrusts. Reaching around into his groin I found that his boyhood, so stiff before, was now only half erect. The touch of my thumb and forefinger brought another moan from the boy and I felt the shaft harden as I rubbed, the slick lubricated rod finally jutting out again in full rigidity. "Ooooo... Ooooo... Ooooo..." Casey panted, "Uh... Uh... Uh... Uh... Uhhhhhhhhh..." Arching to jam his stretched ass up against me, the boy shuddered, holding his breath, and then jerked once more. Contractions in his rigid boy stick pulsed under my fingers. My upthrust manhood was squeezed by throbs in his gut. Twice more, and then a third time, my fingers and pumping hips brought the boy into heaving spasms. By that time my own release, which I was squeezing to hold back, could no longer be delayed. Pressure mounting in my loins, broke through in half spurts of warmth that I was unable to contain. Involuntarily my hips pumped faster, sliding my rod in and out of Casey's ass, the boy lifting to meet my thrusts, gasping in passion. Sensation flooded through me... a cresting wave... For an instant, gripping Casey with my arms around him, I locked him to me, straining to stretch up into his body to the furthest limit. Together we held our breaths, willing the moment to go on and on.... And then I was jerking, hips bucking, my spurts flooding the boy's cavity while beneath me Casey shuddered with me, throbs pulsing in his rigid boy stick. Afterwards we lay together on the bed, arms around each other, exchanging long deep wet kisses. "Do it more," Casey begged, whenever our lips parted so we could breathe. My 12-year-old lover was a sturdy well-developed boy, starting his growth spurt, but he was still too immature for full release. Like any youngster experiencing dry orgasms, all he wanted was more and more and more of them. "Coach," he pleaded, tugging, "Do me again." "Wish I could, Tiger," I answered fondly, kissing him, stroking his silky perfection, breathing in his lovely scent. "I gotta rest for awhile. So should you. It's only your first time. You gotta..." "You're like Cody," Casey giggled, interrupting me. "He, like, gets all tired out when he wacks off. He shoots a lot, like you do." "How do you know?" I wondered if Cody had been forcing Casey to blow him. But apparently not, because the boy giggled some more, giving me a sly look. "I hear him at night, doin' it under the covers. An' I seen him once. He don't know it, but I did. That was when he was using the panties from that girl." Casey looked past me, eyes momentarily unfocused as he savored the memory. "He like was in his bed, knees all up, wackin' it with the panties, movin' all around. But when he got there, the panties didn't catch it, cause big shots came out all over his bed." This brought forth another giggle and Casey's eyes returned to mine. "It was, like, all kinda trouble for him to clean up. He had ta' put his bed cover in the wash. He told mom he got food on it." I stroked the boy, smiling at him. "Well, I suppose in a way he was right. You an' I sure he eat a lot of it." Casey broke into delighted laughter at this, hugging against me, finally humping me, thrusting his stiff boy rod on my stomach. "I wanna do it more!" he pleaded. Reaching for my flaccid member, he rubbed it impatiently. "When's it gonna, like, get big again?" "It takes a while," I said, wishing it didn't and that like Casey I could be hard all the time. He rubbed me some more, working away industriously, and then suddenly stopped, looking up with an anxious expression. "Coach, I gotta take a shit." Knowing he should evacuate my seed, I led him to the bathroom and sat him on the toilet while I started the shower. By the time he got something out the temperature was right. I brought the boy in with me and there, beneath cascading hot water, I knelt down to use fingers and tongue, bringing him off several more times, satisfying at least temporarily his desperate need. Later, on the way back to his house in my SUV, I asked if he was sore. Casey just shrugged. "A little. Coach, can I come tomorrow?" "Sure. Give me a call later. Let's set it up. I can come get you if you need a ride. We can do some more batting practice." This made Casey giggle. Eyes dancing with mischief, he reached over to dig fingers into my groin. He did call. In the evening after supper Casey rang me up, but his voice was heavy with disappointment. "My dad's takin' us somewhere tomorrow," he reported. "I can't come over." I hastened to reassure him. "That's okay. We'll have lots of other times. I'll see you at practice Monday." "Okay, Coach..." And he hung up. Can't have everything, I thought to myself. It's better we take a break anyway. Bet he's got plenty of bruising down there. Besides, he can stay late after practice. We can be alone then. Visions of Casey, naked on my SUV's backseat, knees up, offering himself, filled my mind... [ To Be Continued In Parts H and I ] *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- 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. To all you readers who enjoy these stories, please support Nifty with contributions and keep the Archive online. Check the Nifty home page for ways to make contributions. Without this Archive those of us who write for you will lose a wonderful resource to get our stories out. 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