New Team - New Coach Ovdoc@yahoo.com
Most coaches will tell you that a winning team depends on a lot more than talent. Some of it depends on luck. A lot depends on talent. And it don’t hurt to have a real love and appreciation for the game. No matter what the sport, these things make a world of difference.
In my case, the sport was baseball. The luck came to play when a friend of mine called me. He knew I loved baseball, and had earned a reputation as a pitcher and a winner in high school and college. He wanted to expand his youth league by organizing a new team. He had the boys. He needed a coach. Would I be interested in coaching a group of twelve year olds? None of them had played before. They probably would lose every game since the other teams had mostly boys with previous training. I would need to explain to them that winning was a matter of experience. No one expected them to win their first year. I could work on that later. (My friend’s team had always won, and usually provided most of the players picked for the all-star team which competed with the other leagues for the championship.)
Looking back, I think it was his arrogance that caused me to take the team. I was still young enough to believe in challenges. I couldn’t wait to prove a first year team could shake up the league (providing they had the right coach). On the other hand, maybe he knew that would get my dander up.
The first day of the try-outs, I knew I had luck on my side. Most of the boys were really anxious to make the team. They knew this was the last team organized. It was now or not this year. The boys who showed up were desperate to get on a team. These guys loved the game. I picked all twelve boys, and was allowed three more.
After the try-outs, I told the boys that we had only two weeks to practice before our first game. I would push them hard to get them ready. Anyone who could not take the heat should say so. I did not have time to be cute, nice, or lovable. And I hated repeating myself. I expected to be obeyed because I was the coach. Discipline is the difference between a winning team and a bunch of losers. (O K - maybe a little talent might help too.)
To my surprise, none of the parents objected. None of the boys left. In fact, every single person present seemed to understand I had intentions of expecting nothing less than the best they had to offer.
At the first practice, I had to prove I meant what I had said. A boy named Billy dropped an easy out. I called him over to me, and told an adult to show him how to catch. Billy started to bawl.
“Crying won’t win any games, Billy.” I replied without any sympathy. “Baseball is for tough boys. Are you tough enough to be on my team? If you walk away now, every boy here will know you can cry, but you can’t play ball. I think there’s more to you than that. Dry the eyes and learn to charge the ball. Show me I’m right about you.”
Billy stared at me with pure hatred. But the crying had stopped. He walked away to take the basic training. As he left, I watched him turn to the trainer and mumble “I hate that asshole, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to quit. I can catch a whole lot better than I can cry.”
After practice, I called on Billy to help me pick up the gear and put it away. I told him how pleased I was that he had taken the tongue-lashing so well, and had showed me he had the kind of baseball spirit the team needed. He was going to be the best shortstop ever.
Billy was a thin blond with beautiful hazel eyes. He wasn’t taller than average, and he was a looker. After putting the equipment away, I wrestled around with him and wound up holding him close while sneaking in a long hug when no one was looking. I also slipped a hand under his trousers and into his crotch. As I felt up the small limp two inch shaft and the tight ball sac, I whispered “We need to get you a jock strap with a cup. Shortstops with crushed balls hurt a lot and don’t make babies.
At first, Billy just froze. He couldn’t believe I had stuck my hand in his crotch. He stared at me confused, then began to smile. He didn’t jump or pull my hand away. He did back up closer to me, then giggled that it felt good when I felt his “thingie”. He would get the cup if I took him to get it. No way was he going to ask his step-father. They were not all that close. Billy knew it was naughty to let me put my hand on his dick, but he also knew I had offered to make him a good shortstop. I liked him. And he liked having me teach him a lot more than baseball (although being a good baseball player was good too).
I took him to a sports shop where he tried on several before we found one that was comfortable on him. He tried each one as I watched. Neither of us said a word about his nudity. There was no need. We both understood that we had a secret. Billy went home pleased that he was going to be on the team, and knew he had to please me no matter what. He wanted to do what was asked of him. And he knew I was going to ask a lot. The season had only just begun.
Practice the next day was just as intense as it had been the first day - maybe even more so. I had let the boys play their favorite position. It was important to me that the boys get to play the position they wanted. If I was going to ask their best, I wanted them to know they were getting their chance to play their favorite position. Doing their best for me was not to much to ask.
It was at practice the very next day, I astonished the whole team by checking to see who was wearing cups. With the whole team lined up facing me in the dugout, I went down the line grabbing the boys by the crotch. More than half of them were not wearing them. All of them stared at me in disbelief as I stepped in front of them and reached for their privates. Some were red-faced as they jumped slightly from the actual impact of being touched there. No one had ever been that personal with them in their young life. In those days, it was not illegal, but it was not done. Some giggled. I squeezed lightly to make my point so that those not wearing protection would get the point. It was not hard to cause pain if hit there. Billy smiled proudly. He was wearing the new cup we had purchased, and would boast loudly afterward that he had his cup on. Others looked at me curiously when I took the time to check out their toy and their balls. The whole thing had taken place so suddenly that the boys were stunned.
After the inspection was over, I announced that I had done this to demonstrate why it was important. I told them I may do it again, but didn’t say when. Instead, I added that any one not wearing a cup would not be allowed on the field to play ball until their mother brought their cup to protect them. The idea that I would ask their mother to make sure their son was wearing his cup caused almost every boy to cringe visibly. I knew I had made my point. Of course, I also added that each of them would need a jock strap to hold the cup in place. The jock strap was an item of pride. It meant the boy was old enough to need something to hold his boy toy in place.
Not one boy complained to their parents that I had felt their privates. Not to my knowledge. It would be “babyish” to admit that you were shocked to be treated like a boy. Many dads accepted that boy athletes should expect to be treated like big boys. Coaches were allowed to talk to them “man to man”. Checking their equipment was acceptable as long as you weren’t actually groping them.
Our practice sessions became more personal with each boy understanding he had to pull his share of the load. We had buddy chats so each boy knew every other boy on the team. They weren’t just boys playing baseball. They were boys on the same team. And the team was getting good at the sport.
We lost our first game, but not by much. Of course my friend and a few other coaches were there right after the game to “explain” that I should not be discouraged. They thought the team made a good showing. We should not expect to win many games, but they would “go easy’ on us. We just might win a few to keep the boys from getting discouraged.
The very next game changed one coach’s opinion. The boys knew I wanted a win. They tried their best. Boy, did it ever pay off. We not only won. It was by a dozen runs. The guys did everything right. Our starting pitcher smacked a home run. Then the slow moving catcher smacked one too. He told me it was easier to hit a home run because he could take his time running the bases. (He would prove his ability to do this that whole season.)
The only one that looked bad that game was me. The ump was a volunteer, but not a good ump. He made some bad calls irritating my pitcher. I knew the pitcher was putting the ball across the plate. Yeah, I really blew it. I cussed out the ump and pretty much ruined his day. He finally growled that I was to get out of the dug out. I had been thrown out of the game. That did it. The boys rallied. The other team left that game feeling terribly embarrassed. Bad enough that they had lost badly to a team that was not supposed to win. They had been stomped by a team whose coach had watched the game from the stands. The training coach had let the boys do it there way. Billy had been elected team captain. He led the team to victory declaring “Doc stood up for the team. Now it’s our turn.” I treated the team to burgers and shakes after the game. They let me know they were not giving away games any more. Winning was to much fun.
The next practice started off a little different too. My catcher, Duke, a short stocky gorgeous boy walked into the dugout carrying his cup. He handed it to me in front of several other boys.
“It just don’t seem to fit right.” he insisted. “Maybe you could adjust it for me so it won’t be uncomfortable.”
I stared at Duke in shock. He waited to see what I was going to do. After a moment, I realized he was telling me he trusted me. It did not bother him that I had groped his dick and his balls. He was all right with that. The other boys watched as I placed it in the jock sleeve, taking the time to feel a three inch stiff that didn’t fit inside the cup very well.
“It’s a nice one Duke. Pretty nice balls too. But be careful. I could get in trouble doing this if the parents find out.”
“Won’t happen.”, Duke quipped. “Took balls to stand up to that ump. We know that there were not any coaches waiting to take this team either. Might as well make this a season to remember. Let’s have fun doing it.”
The other two boys didn’t say a word, but I knew they had talked this over. I didn’t ask, but I knew the team knew I had more than a little interest in them. I had brought extra cups for those boys that needed them. I helped get good gloves for a few boys. I barked at them during practice, but I also listened when they wanted to explain problems at home. What happened at practice stayed at practice. And I looked for good talents the boys had- and praised them when they did something they did well. Each boy was special to me. Each boy was special to the team. Each boy seemed to sense they had a chance to learn more than baseball on this team.
Billy must have heard about me and Duke. He definitely heard that I was going to win more than baseball games, and that I really liked him. Billy sensed that the other boys wanted to take his place. They weren’t worried about being forced to do stuff. They were curious to find out what they were expected to do. Most of them were more than willing to find out, but not in front of the others. Some had fooled around with older boys, or with buddies, but only as far as jerking off together.
Billy asked if he could help me put away the equipment after practice. When we had it loaded in the car, he asked if he could spend some time at my place. His mom would not mind. We agreed he would call any way. He did that as soon as we got to my place. I agreed to bring him home by his bed time. Billy sat close by as I talked to his mom. He was not just close. He was leaning on my shoulder and smiling. When I pulled him onto my lap, he smiled up at me with that impish look on his face that said “I’m all yours.”
Since we were still hot and sweaty from practice, I asked if he was ready to shower. Then we could talk about what to have for supper. He agreed, and waited for me to lead the way.
Once I had led him to my bed room, I suggested we get out of the dirty clothes so I could throw them in the washer. I would have to put them in the dryer when we were finished in the shower so we might have to wait for them. Billy had no problem with that. I had already seen and felt his goodies. Now he would get to see mine. Even as I explained this stuff to him, he was quickly out of his tee shirt and taking off the shoes. I was hurrying to catch up to him. Together we slid out of our pants and underwear. Neither of us made a big deal of it, or were shy about it.
Billy stared openly at my seven inch thick shaft as it came into view.
“Wow! It’s big!” he said quietly.
“Yours will be just as big one day.” I answered.
I collected the clothes and dropped them in the washer in a room next to the bathroom. Billy stayed by my side. We went from there to the shower. Billy was just beginning to develope. His three inch shaft hung over a ball sac just starting to drop. I knew he probably wasn’t shooting yet, but had reached that stage where we discover our dick will get stiff very easy and feels really good when we play with it. It was about his age when I discovered I loved to jerk off,and did it every chance I got.
Just the thought of playing with Billy’s boy toy caused mine to start getting stiff. By the time we had reached the shower, Billy was looking at it as it bounced and swayed from side to side. By the time I had the water just right for both of us, we faced each other checking out the differences. To get things a bit more relaxed, I dropped to my knees and pulled Billy to me. Holding him in place, I had one hand on each of his cute rounded buns as my lips engulfed his stiff little shaft. He allowed me to kiss and move all over his chest and tummy getting to explore his body. Then I went back to working on his dicklet and his balls. He moaned in pure pleasure as he felt feelings he had never before thought existed. All to soon, he felt a terrific need to pee, and tried to pull back. We both knew he was going to have a dry orgasm. He had discovered this feeling before, but never orally, and literally humped my lips uncontrollably as his little shaft jerked and sent electric volts shooting up his spine. Billy moaned and held tightly to my neck as his legs slowly failed to hold him up. I backed off him knowing his dick would be very sensitive for a few minutes. We stayed in the same position until he let go and stood up on his own.
“Wow!” was all he could say at the moment.
As I stood up, Billy looked at my big seven inch stiff and began stroking it. He knew that Icould shhot off streams of white stuff although he had never seen any one do it. He wanted to see it. I knew he was afraid to suck anything that big. I let him stroke it like he had done his. It didn’t take long. He had me more than ready to blow a load, and a few minutes later I did just that. He watched amazed as the big mushroom head shot several streams of white goo into the air. Some of it ran over his hand coating it with sperm for the first time ever. He touched and felt it. This was the stuff that made babies. Then he rinsed off his hands and looked up at me to see what would happen next. We agreed we had gone far enough for the first time. I told him we would save the rest for another time. Billy was all for it. Another blow job sounded great. He was hooked.
We finished up, then retired to the bedroom where we played some more. He got his second blow job on my bed as the dryer did it’s job. Then we just held each other and felt each other up getting to love the way we made each other feel good. Although I wanted to go a lot further, I was contented to know Billy was more than happy to come back later and find out what else guys do to each other.
With fresh clothes on, we went out to a burger place. We were both starved, and ate a big burger with fries while downing a milkshake to wash the food down. Billy shyly admitted he had never felt so loved (or as he put it, so wanted) in all his life. This cute thing couldn’t wait to do stuff again. No way was he going to tell his parents how much he liked what he had done. And no way was he going to pass up another chance to do it.
On the field, Billy gave his best to the team. Whenever I pushed him to try harder, he knew it was for him and the team. He wanted the shortstop position, and he wanted to please his new found friend. The team took note of Billy’s change from a whiner to a really good baseball player. He made new friends on the team. He even got attention from other guys on other teams. His love of the game improved.
The next evening at my house he learned how to suck on a seven inch dick to please his trainer. It wasn’t long before he mastered the art of sliding the shaft into his throat until he could take in all of it. Billy was a willing learner. Once I had the shaft into the throat, I pumped my load into his stomach. He was shocked at first, but learned if he didn’t try to back off, he could swallow without losing part of it. He also grew to like the taste better. And he learned to lick up whatever spilled out. By then, Billy would come up smiing when ever he knew he had made me happy. We accepted this game as one we could share, both being pleased with the feelings we gave each other.
We had spent a lot of time loving and getting used to each other when Billy could spend time at my house. His parents accepted that he was excited about baseball and wanted to spend time with the coach. They expressed their appreciation.
It was no big surprise to Billy that one night I celebrated another win by taking him to bed. We played the usual games, but this time I greased him up to finger his hole and used two fingers to stretch him open. When I rolled him over on his stomach, he seemed to know this was the time I was going to enter him. He agreed if I would stop when he asked me to. He grabbed a pillow and hugged it while I greased up the pile driver. And he grunted in pain as I popped the head inside him. I stopped then eased in slowly allowing him to get used to the feeling that he was full down there. By the time I was in and had started humping him, Billy was O K with it. He had started feeling the new feelings inside his butt, and even turned to watch as I plunged in. I knew he felt good that he was pleasing me, but was also loving the intense feelings his butt was giving him. He had just given up his cherry. He didn’t know that, but he knew he had just been cornholed. Now he knew what that was like. He was pretty much relaxed as I pumped my load deep inside him, then rested a moment before pulling out.
We talked about what we had done. Both of us agreed this was something we would not tell anyone else. He agreed he would not mind doing it again, but didn’t want the other boys to know he had been screwed like a girl. Then he quickly added: “But we can do it because nobody will ever know I kinda liked it.”
Although I included Duke and a few others in some oral sex and mutual jerk offs during a very good season, that secret remained a team secret. It was well known that Billy and I were good friends (and probably more). The team didn’t seem to care. What really counted to them was that they won more games than they lost. The friend that got me to take a team was upset that one of his players wanted to switch to my team. The other teams had learned to respect my team. The “losers” turned out to be pretty good. We put two guys on the all-star team. Billy played shortstop in the district finals. I would be there to watch him play and lose at the championship playoffs. I boasted to the other boys on the team that we had made the other teams sit up and take notice of us. I would be back next year. I knew most of the boys would be back to. In fact, some of them would practice long before next Spring. O K, maybe we would be playing indoor games until it was time to meet on the baseball field, but you can bet next season a lot of boys are going to be trying to qualify for my team. And the requirements will be a little different than for the “losers”. But that’s our team secret. Right?