Date: Mon, 12 Mar 2012 05:46:02 -0700 (PDT) From: Joe Hunter Subject: Basesall Diamond Tails - 5C 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 - 5C (copyright 2012, Joe Hunter) ::::::::::::::::::::: Third Base: Part C (Conclusion) ::::::::::::::::::::: The baseball season was a lot more fun for Edwin after that weekend. Self-confidence and a sense of worth had been what he needed. My praise, a bit of special attention and the support of his teammates had combined to provide them. It was an important difference, and now Edwin was free to be like any other boy, enjoying practice, developing his skills and experiencing the thrill of competition and accomplishment in baseball games with his friends. A few other good tings were happening as well: Pepe and I spent time helping out with the Legion team and Edwin got to be close friends with the older boy who was my former player. After that Pepe and Edwin attended a lot of the Legion games and several times Edwin was asked to be one of the batboys, something I know he enjoyed. The new tone of things was demonstrated by an incident in a Tuesday night game. Our opponents had the third base dugout and during warm-ups my centerfielder, our unofficial captain, warned us that a few on that team were boys who had been teasing Edwin at school. In the first inning I thought I heard remarks coming from the dugout, but since I was not sure and it was up to the umpire to enforce the rules against taunting, I waited. As it turned out there was nothing for me to worry about. In the second inning Edwin made a beautiful stop on a hard hit ground ball up the baseline. It could easily have gone for a double or triple, but he saved it with a quick move to his right. The stretch put him off balance, and when he tried to turn and make the throw to first his long legs got tangled and he fell awkwardly. Even so, he did the best he could, recovering and throwing to second base, holding the runner to a single. I heard derisive laughter coming from the third-base dugout and then distinctly heard the word "Goofy". Before I could think about talking to the umpire my shortstop - it was the tough little rodeo star that night - took charge. He called time and went over to Edwin to say something and give him a pat on the back. Then the cocky 11-year-old left fielder was there as well, and the two of them went over to the third-base dugout. I'm not sure exactly what was said but the umpire came running up, pulled my kids away from the screen and after that I heard no more remarks. In our dugout at the end of the inning, every boy on my team congratulated Edwin on his good play and the rodeo star sat right next to him during the rest of the night. Thursday evening we had another game and one more incident put a final touch on things. With two outs and runners on first and second Edwin was anticipating the double play he wanted to make instead of concentrating on the ball, so an easy grounder went under his glove. This is a classic error that players at every level commit now and then, but it was no problem this time. My star 11-year-old left fielder had Edwin's back. He scooped up the ball, fired a laser shot to home plate and the runner from second had to hold at third. The next batter grounded to short for an easy force out, and no harm was done. Pepe, who had been laying off Edwin recently at my urging, came boiling out of the dugout looking like he was ready to deliver one of his explosive tongue-lashings. I prepared to intervene, but my little left fielder was already on the job. He had stopped to give Edwin a pat on the back, was trotting in with him, and when he saw Pepe's angry face he stopped right in front of the man. "Don't be mad at Edwin, Pepe. He didn't miss it on purpose. 'Member, you told me, 'Back up the ground balls 'cause the infielders can't get 'em all.' Well, I did. Edwin missed that one, but he'll get the next one." I had to quickly hide a smile because the expression on Pepe's face was quite something -- rather like the man who stepped off the curb he forgot was there. Except when dealing with his own son, Pepe was an outstanding coach and he had an unusually good relationship with this boy who was our best 11-year-old. He nodded his head slowly. "You are right." He turned to Edwin, squeezed the boy's shoulder and said, "Just do your best, son. You'll get the next one." Then he went off to give some encouragement to our first batter. On my way to the third-base coaching box I gave both boys a pat on the butt. "Nice going, guys. Good teamwork." Edwin came to bat in that inning and hit a double into the left-center gap. Then, back at third-base in the very next inning, he got another chance at a grounder. It came bouncing to him, he gloved it, hesitated for two beats just as I had told him so many times, and then while I held my breath, he pegged the ball to first. The throw was dead on line, pretty as a picture, and it hit the first baseman's glove a step ahead of the runner for the out. When Edwin came trotting off the field that time his dark eyes were shining because he saw me waiting for him and knew I was pleased. I put an arm around his shoulders. "I am so very proud of you, Gatto. You remembered everything I told you. I knew you could do it! Now, listen..." I got down on one knee and stared into his monkey face. "Until you get stronger and your body stops growing, there will be times when you still have trouble with that throw. That's all right! Be patient, and keep practicing! Soon, I promise you, all your throws will be like that one. Remember, you must believe!" "I believe, Coach," he assured me with a shy smile, and my heart melted with affection for him. When he smiled, he did not look ugly at all. That Saturday morning we had no game so, following my usual routine, I scheduled three hours of skill drills and batting practice. It was an opportunity to do needed work on problem areas, but I also liked to give the boys plenty of fun time for pitching and swinging the bats. It was a hot day and the boys all had their shirts off, including Edwin, which of course emphasized his scrawniness. But he had on one of the orange and black satin shorts I had gotten him, along with his new Nikes, so his appearance was way ahead of what it had been. Plus my eye could see some changes in his upper body from the chin-ups, other exercises and all the supplementation I was giving him. When taking his turn at bat he was actually swinging with a little power. No practice can be bad when every boy is trying his best and this one was particularly good. Everything clicked in the fielding drills and when it was time to start our Home Run Derby contest I was surrounded by a happy group of excited boys. Bare chests and shoulders glistened in the sun and sweat-soaked shorts plastered to bodies, leaving nothing to the imagination. I had the boom box with me that day - a huge thing needing six 'D' batteries for power, rescued from a junk shop at a time when I had been coaching teams of inner-city kids. Long since overtaken by the tech revolution, the monstrous thing had a clunky CD changer and could still crank out the volume when set behind our sagging wooden backstop. The kids liked it and a few always brought discs on Saturday to play at the end of practice. Tucked away in a compartment at the back of the box were some cracked plastic cases of CD's that had come with the machine. The boys generally ignored these, dismissing them as "old-timey stuff", but on this occasion one of them got into the mix. Home Run Derby was finishing up, tunes were at full blast and the last batter, my shortstop, had just won the contest with a towering smash out into center field. The whole team came running in, whooping with excitement and I was giving the happily grinning boy his prize, a coupon for a free sundae at Dairy Queen, when the CD changer switched discs and from the speakers boomed music and then lyrics - sounds I had nearly forgotten but had once known so well... People all over the world... Join in... Start a love train, love train... A cog slipped in time and suddenly I was back on that old empty lot, our trash-littered practice diamond where I had spent hours every week picking out rocks and broken glass so the kids would not get hurt sliding. And there were my players, my wonderful boys -- Hispanic like Edwin, but Dominican not Mex -- all with the same tan complexions, sparkling dark eyes, and black hair. And they were all dancing because it was their favorite song and it was the end of practice, and we were a good team and they knew it, and we would be playing in a game the next day... Don't you know that it's time to get on board... And let that train keep on ridin', ridin' on through... And then, someone actually was dancing. I turned my head and to my astonishment Edwin was moving to the beat, a bit awkward perhaps, but still like nothing I had seen him do before. Dropping to the smooth surface of the plastic dish we used for home plate he spun on his butt and then jumped back to his feet. "Yeah!" It was my eleven-year-old star draft pick. "The Coors Lite tune!" An instant later he was at Edwin's side, dancing with him, the two of them slapping palms and twisting to the beat. "All right!" My shortstop, the first baseman and my centerfielder joined in - and then the whole team was dancing; youngsters tumbling, spinning and sliding all around me. Please don't miss this train at the station... 'Cause if you miss it I feel sorry, sorry for you... The boys went right to the end with it, dancing all the way, Edwin and my top draft pick leading them, shirtless bodies twisting and swiveling in move after move. I laughed and joined in, the past and present fusing in my mind while I tried a few steps, much to the amusement of my centerfielder. A few parents who had arrived to pick up their kids watched from behind the scarred wooden bleachers and glancing at them I wondered what they were thinking. That was something you never worried about in the inner city, I thought. You never saw the parents there. When the music ended the excited boys gathered around me, all exchanging palm slaps with Edwin, and then I held out a fist. "Hands in!"" Everyone leaned in touching a fist to mine. "Who's the best?" "We are!" they chorused. "Who's gonna' win this league?" "We Are!" "Who's gonna' win the championships?" "WE ARE!" "You guys are the greatest," I told them with a grin, looking around their faces. "Team, on three. One... Two... Three!" "TEAM!!" Excited and happy the group broke up, boys running to find their shirts or pick up equipment. I put arms around Edwin and my eleven-year-old star, giving their bare shoulders a squeeze. "You two are amazing. Edwin, I had no idea you could break dance." He gave me one of his shy little smiles and looked down at his feet. "And you..." I ruffled the eleven-year-old's hair. "Where the heck did you learn to do that?" The young boy grinned up at me. "MTV. My mom says I watch it too much." "Yeah, well..." I said, laughing, "There's worse things. You had a great practice today, tiger." I gave his butt a pat and with another grin the boy trotted off. "Good job," I told Edwin, patting his butt as well. "Go rest in the car. I'll take care of packing the equipment." But, of course, he wouldn't do that. Despite my urging he stayed to help, collecting all the batting helmets for me and holding the bags as I packed them. While we were lugging everything to my SUV the first baseman's father came over to assist. "Was that the O'jays?" he asked in a low voice. "Yeah. Takes you back, huh?" "God, yes. Where'd you find that, Coach? You're too young to remember disco." I smiled. "It's an old CD. Got it in a swap store. " "Haven't heard that in years," the man repeated shaking his head as he went off to where his son was waiting in their truck. There are certain events that can define a baseball season; events whose significance, perhaps not recognized at the time, are seen later as the catalysts fusing a group of individual boys into the juggernaut of talent, enthusiasm and unconquerable will that is a championship team. That Saturday practice was such an event, and after it we never lost a game for the rest of the season. It is all still clear in my mind as if it were yesterday, and I think of that practice every time I am in our sponsor's office where our team picture with the Championship Trophy hangs in a frame on the wall. In that photo, standing in the back row next to his father, Edwin, my tall skinny third baseman, stares out at me, proud and happy, still grinning from the excitement of his perfect throw to first that had clinched the victory for us. It was a high point, that practice -- something the boys would always remember -- but for me there would be something else, even better, and it came a bit later. Edwin didn't say anything when he scrambled into the front of my SUV, but it took no special vision on my part to see that he was fairly bubbling with happiness. Holding shirt and glove on his lap he settled back on the seat, and with the sunlight glinting off his smooth chest and shoulders I found it difficult to keep my eyes off him. The moment I was in the driver's seat he leaned over, took my arm, and put his head on my shoulder. I stroked his lanky black hair. "Feelin' pretty good, huh?" He nodded and when I slid a palm on his slender thigh he spread his legs so I could stroke up into his groin. Under the satin shorts, hardness bulged the pouch of his jock. Edwin lifted the waists of both shorts and supporter, and my hand went underneath to rub his jutting boner. He was tremendously aroused, so hard the thick shaft throbbed as I touched it and he gave a soft little groan, reaching between my legs to feel my own stiff rod through my jeans. Eyes closed, lips parted, he raised his hips, straining to push his shorts down. "Hold on, Gatto," I said with a grin, taking my hand off his quivering shaft. "Let's get something to eat first." Reluctantly, the boy let go of me, but kept leaning against my shoulder. "I want to go to your house, Coach." "As soon as we get the food. I don't want you all skinny and weak again." Edwin giggled, squirming in his seat. "I want three milkshakes today." "Ha! The big cat is hungry, eh?" "Grrrrrrrrrr!" I got the boy all his favorite things at the drive-through and we took them up to my apartment where Edwin's appetite continued to astonish me. He proceeded to devour everything as if starved for a week and I was glad I had bought the two extra chicken sandwiches. "Enough?" I asked when he finished and he nodded. "Let's see those exercises then. Let's see how you're doing." He did the sets for me on the rug in the living area, pushing hard, doing all the extra counts I gave him as a test of his endurance, and by the end he was exhausted. But his eyes were shinning when he looked up at me. "You see how good I am getting, Coach?" My heart overflowed with love for this ungainly young boy who wanted so much to please me. "I see everything," I assured him, stroking his hair. It was all in his face. Edwin loved my praise, he had shown off his exercises to get it, but that was not the only thing he wanted. Now, with a shy anxious look at me, he struggled to his feet and took my hand, tugging me back toward the bedroom. There, standing in the bars of sunlight slanting through my half closed blinds he pushed shorts and jock down, stepped out of both and straightened up, naked, his rigid boy stick jutting outward, displayed proudly. "See, Coach..." There was barely suppressed excitement in his voice. "See, I am getting stronger. Now I'm not so ugly." I nodded. The changes were subtle but they had started: shoulders a bit more filled out, definition in the stringy thighs. You had to know what you were looking for to see them, but for Edwin they were obviously a very big thing. "Gatto!" I eyed the boy admiringly. "Yes! Everything is starting to look good now." I went to him and he held up his skinny arm, flexing for me. "See that!" I told him, running my finger over his biceps, tracing the small bulge. "That's all the chin ups and pull ups! This is just the beginning!" "I do the chin ups and pull-ups three times every day!" the boy told me, watching anxiously for my reaction. Obviously this was big news, saved to surprise me. I let my eyes flash in delight and swept the boy's long skinny body into my arms. He hugged around my neck looking up happily. "More even than I told you to!" I said, caressing him. "I knew it! I knew you were special. I told you so. No one else could see it, but I did! Now the great jungle cat comes nearer. Soon we shall see." Edwin writhed against me, trembling with excitement and pleasure. "I wanted it to be today to show you," he whispered, hugging even tighter. I laid him on the bed and he gazed up while I undressed, and then the moment I stretched out next to him he rolled into my arms pressing the full length of his smooth angular body to mine. "Teach me the special things, Coach," he begged. "My friend says there are special things you will teach me. He said for me to tell you I was ready. He told me not to be shy." "Yes," I told him. "You're ready." I stroked his skinny back and cupped the muscular curve of his butt. Then I began to tickle him and he squirmed in delight. "Oooo... Oh, Coach... Ai, Ai, Ai... Oooooooo..." Finally I stopped. "Gatto," I whispered. Edwin stared up at me, eyes wide and glistening. "Grrrrrrrr..." "I'm so proud of you." My palm slid back and forth over the ribs and taut silky waist. Then I leaned forward to kiss his forehead and the boy closed his eyes. I kissed each eyelid and moved on to nose, chin, the hollows of his neck and shoulders while the boy moaned softly, twisting his hips. Where his throbbing boy rod rubbed against my belly it left a streak of wetness. At last my lips brushed his and Edwin clung, kissing back with lips parted, opening for the tip of my tongue when it flicked between his teeth. As I thrust into his mouth I wondered where and when he had learned to kiss like that, but then I thought of his friend, my former player, and I suspected I knew. The boy moaned, squirming and twisting; heated flesh sliding over my own. I reached down, taking his rigid shaft into my fist and felt his small warm fingers on my own hard rod. My tongue probed his mouth, I pumped his throbbing branch and the boy shuddered with passion, sliding his fingers on my straining hardness and opening his mouth wide for my tongue. For a long time we stayed locked together, writhing, legs tangling, rubbing each other, and then at last I released Edwin's rigid boy stick and thrust my hand down between his long slender thighs. The boy moaned, pulling his leg up onto my hip so I could fondle his tight nut sack and explore in his butt crease. Finding his tight opening I wiggled the tip of a middle finger into the muscular ring and when Edwin drew his leg up higher, straining to open himself, the finger slid in, penetrating to hot moist sweetness beyond. Edwin groaned, rubbing my straining rod faster and I moved my finger within his tightness, pushing to get deeper while the boy strained against me. Then the firm little swelling at the base of his hardness was beneath my fingertip and as I massaged it Edwin writhed frantically, tremors sweeping through his body. He pulled his leg up farther, the ring loosened and I worked a second finger into his opening to massage even harder. Edwin jerked, feet kicking, and I felt his straining shaft pulse. He released my throbbing erection, began to rub himself in a frenzy and then exploded against me, spurts of hot boy cream shooting onto my belly while the powerful contractions of his pulsing rod throbbed around my fingers deep in his body. As the spasms ended the boy sagged against me, keeping his leg pulled up over my hip. I withdrew my tongue from his mouth, allowed our lips to part and Edwin hugged me, burying his head on my shoulder, purring like a cat. "Grrrrrrrr..." My fingers began to slide out of his chute, but he shook his head and reached back to hold them in, purring again as I twisted them in his moist heat. Then, once he was sure I was not taking them out, his arm went back up around my shoulders and he lay content in my embrace. Gradually, as I pressed and massaged his nub, his arms tightened around me and he became aroused again. When his boy stick was hard against my stomach I maneuvered him onto his back, the boy pulling his legs up so I could keep my fingers pushed into him. He looked up, eyes wide in anticipation when I leaned over to whisper, "Now, Gatto... everything I can give you! My great jungle cat!" Shifting around I lay next to the boy, the tip of my jutting hardness at his mouth. He opened to take me in, warm lips and tongue engulfing the straining shaft. His long slender legs were up over my shoulders so I put myself between his thighs and thrust my fingers up into his body as far as possible. The hot cavity was gaping now and I forced a third finger in. The boy groaned, put his arms around my hips and pulled my full length deep into his mouth until the blunt tip was lodged in his throat. Soft warmth of his tongue curled around my throbbing shaft, sliding and licking while I moaned and kept twisting my fingers in the boy's heat. "Take it all, Gatto," I whispered. The boy's arms tightened around my hips and he drew his head back. When I felt him swallow I thrust gently and the head of my jutting shaft slid down Edwin's throat. The boy struggled not to gag, and then locked against me, face pressed to my groin and the head of my throbbing shaft gripped in his tight gullet. I groaned with pleasure, a tide of passion bursting through my loins. A quick spasm pulsed my straining member and I squeezed hard to hold back before grinding my hips, pumping just enough to slip my throbbing hardness in Edwin's mouth while he worked me with his tongue. Down in his butt my hand was pressed against his stretched opening, my fingers massaging his nub, and a sudden throb pulsed in Edwin, making his legs jerk. His hot mouth and tongue were all over my shaft. I felt my last control going. My rigid tool pulsed again sending a gush of slippery precum into Edwin's throat. The boy swallowed, his thighs straining apart and legs thrashing. Then with a shuddering final convulsion he pulled me deep once more, arms locked so tightly around my hips I could not move. His skinny body heaved beneath me, hips bucking in jerk after jerk, and his passion swept me over the edge. With a tremendous contraction my straining member began to spurt jets of semen that Edwin struggled to swallow, while at the same time his own rigid boy stick hit my stomach with trickles of warmth. We both kept thrusting long after we were spent and then lay collapsed on the bed. Edwin took a long shuddering breath and I started to withdraw from his mouth, but he held me in long enough to milk my shaft and lick the last drops off my sensitive tip. When my softening member finally slipped out I turned carefully, keeping my fingers in his butt, and pulled his scrawny body close. Edwin threw himself against me, wrapping arms around my neck. "Coach, make me strong. Please... I want it. I will not be shy with you." "Strong," I promised, stroking his back and twisting my fingers up inside him. "Like a great jungle cat." "Grrrrrrrrrr..." He lifted his face to mine, opening his mouth and as our lips met I thrust my tongue in deep, tasting my own semen. Edwin writhed against me moaning, twisting... My palm caressed his slender back and developing shoulders; skin stretched tight over bone... warmth and smooth satin... Lost in passion the boy was already rigidly erect once again and my fingers moved in him, massaging his nub, and he clung to me, jerking, legs kicking... When I started to slide my fingers out of his boy hole Edwin gave a little moan of protest and reached back to grab my hand, but I withdrew my tongue, allowed our lips to part and told him, "Only for a minute, little Gatto. I need to do something for you." Edwin nodded, released my hand, and gave a long sigh as my fingers slid out of him. I rolled him onto his back and he lay sprawled with his eyes closed, slender legs pulled up, knees sagging apart. I went to the bathroom, washed my hands and came back with a bottle of Hawaiian Tropic lotion. Stretching out beside the boy I dribbled the slippery oil all over his jutting erection and the small tuft of pubic hair at its base. Edwin stirred and giggled. "That is cold, Coach." "Soon it will be very warm," I promised, spreading lubrication on his shaft, which made Edwin squirm and go rock hard. "Coachhh..." He moaned, twisting under my stroking fingers. "Make me strong, Coach. Pleeeeease... Don't stop. Pleeeease don't stop..." I dribbled more lotion on my fingers and when I thrust them down between his legs Edwin pulled his knees up, spreading his skinny thighs so I could smear slippery oil all around his tight little opening. "Ohhhhhhhhh..." Edwin sighed. He strained his legs apart. "In, go in," he pleaded. I rolled onto my back, pulling the boy up on top of me, his firm little butt nestled in the hollow of my belly. Drawing back his right thigh I reached around, positioned my oily fingertips on his dimpled opening and with a firm thrust slid first one and then a second finger up into his hot tight cavity. Edwin gasped, arching upward. His muscular ring tightened reflexively around my fingers, but then as I pushed inside him it fluttered and relaxed. Edwin stretched his slender arms back around my neck and began twisting and moaning. "Ohhhhhhhh Coooooaaach..." Gripping with my free hand I pumped his iron hard shaft and the boy rolled his head from side to side, drew his legs up off the bed and strained his thighs apart. "Strong. Make me strong, Coach," he begged over and over, his feet twisting, legs jerking in weak little spasms. For a long time I rubbed the boy's thick shaft, wiggling my fingers in his hot moist sweetness, while Edwin stretched on top of me, arching his slender body, begging me to go, "Faster... Harder..." until at last he was in a trance of ecstasy; writhing, moaning, arms and legs jerking and kicking. Only then did I increase the rhythm, sending tremors racing through the boy's skinny body. His throbbing boy stick pulsed under my fist. Droplets oozed from the tip and I thrust my fingers deep into his cavity, pushing hard against his ring to gain extra penetration. The boy thrashed and my fist was a blur on his rigid penis, but even this was not enough as he urged me in frantic high-pitched cries to go, "Harder, Coach. Harder, harder... Uhhhhhhhhhhhh..." Suddenly his straining rod jerked, throbbed and shot arcs of glittering boy cum onto his chest. Edwin heaved, jerked again and then again and again and again... droplets and little strands of creamy semen splattering over chest and belly. "Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." At last he collapsed on me, completely spent, a last dribble of milky fluid rolling off the tip of his hard rod, running down over my fist. His legs dropped back onto the bed and I let my fingers slide out of his opening. Edwin moaned softly, struggled to turn over, made it with my help and cuddled with an arm thrown around my shoulders. With his other arm he pulled my hand down to where I could reach his crack and when my fingers twisted once more into his gaping hole he hugged with both arms, whispering, "Do me, Coach... Make me strong... My friend says I must not be shy." I held the boy, feeling his heart thudding in his slender chest while I stroked the silky smoothness of back and shoulders. My fingers moved within him, massaging the nub, sliding through his tight little ring, and Edwin squirmed in pleasure, sometimes lifting his monkey face to be kissed and then hugging tight against me once more. When his heart had stopped pounding and I was sure he was rested I began easing my fingers out of his stretched opening, but the boy clung pleading, "Don't stop..." "That's enough for now," I told him, giving his firm rounded butt a loving pat. I massaged until the ring closed tight and then picked him up, his arms wrapped around my neck, and carried him to the bathroom. "Feel good?" I whispered. Edwin nodded dreamily and lifted his face for a kiss. My tongue darted into his mouth and he hugged, moaning softly. I ran a hot tub for him, eased him into it and the boy sprawled within the steamy water, luxuriating in the feel of my hands lathering him with scented soap. "Coach?" He asked, closing his eyes, "You like me even more now that I'm not so ugly, don't you?" "My beautiful jungle cat," I answered, caressing him. "I like you so much. Keep getting stronger, and learn more and more..." "I want to learn, Coach," the boy pleaded. "Show me more." With a smile I held up a soapy fist and pushed a finger in and out of it. Edwin's eyes opened wide. "Yes! Coach, show me!" I shook my head. "That is very special. For that I have to be sure you're ready. Not today. Everything must be perfect for that." Edwin's eyes were shining. "I know I'm ready!" I finished washing him, emptied the tub and got the shower going so I could join him under the hot water. Edwin clung to me, stroking his hands over my hard shoulders. "I want to be strong like you, Coach." "Gatto," I whispered in his ear. "Grrrrrrrrrr..." the boy responded with delight, and then hugged even tighter, burying his head on my chest. I held him, stroking him for a long time. Late that afternoon I took Edwin to the Legion Field so he could watch his friend, my former player, in a game against a neighboring town. Edwin always had a good time at the Legion games because the three Hispanic kids on the team made a pet of him. I took a seat up in the grandstand and he went out on the field, throwing with the players for warm-ups and chasing balls for the coaches. Later, I saw him over by the dugout, talking with my former player and when the older boy asked him something Edwin looked down, nodding shyly. The two of them talked for a quite a while and Edwin kept nodding. On the drive back to his house, Edwin sat as close to me as he could, keeping a hand on my thigh. "Coach..." He looked up at me shyly. "I am very lucky." Then with a sigh he leaned his head against my arm, was silent for a while and added softly, "I will be ready, Coach." The next day, Sunday, I got up early and spent the morning cleaning the apartment, doing all the dull but necessary chores. I had half expected that Edwin might turn up, but after not hearing from him by lunchtime I decided he had gone somewhere with his family for the day. I ate and was washing up when the phone rang. I picked up and a soft voice whispered, "Can I come over?" It was Edwin, obviously trying not to be overheard. "Sure, come on," I whispered back and he hung up immediately. A half-hour later there was a knock on my door and when I opened Edwin was there, skateboard under his arm, dressed in all his new things - orange and black pants, orange and black Nikes, orange and black ball cap... But the shirt was not one of the colorful ones I had bought for him. It was all black, and instead of sleeves it was open on the sides, revealing the boy's smooth upper body when he moved his arms. Something about it stirred my memory. "Nice shirt," I said, giving the boy an appreciative stare as he took off his Nikes and left them with his ball cap and skateboard by the door. Edwin smiled shyly. "My friend gave it to me. He said you gave it to him once, when he played on your team." "That's right..." Memory of that day, and the image it called up, made me smile. "I did..." I took Edwin into the kitchenette, poured him a small coke and looked the boy over while he drank. The straight black hair was shiny clean, his skin scrubbed and glowing. All the clothes smelled fresh as if just out of the dryer, and his teeth were gleaming white. He stood close to me, finishing his soda and I caught a scent of coconut body lotion. I slipped a hand into the side of his shirt, caressing the smooth skin with my palm. "That shirt is very sexy." Edwin turned into my arms, hugging, offering his lips and then opening his mouth to admit the tongue I thrust deep as we kissed. The boy was trembling with excitement. Moaning softly he ground his hips against my thigh and my hands roved inside his shirt, stroking silky back... glossy shoulders... The jut of Edwin's boy stick, rigid beneath his baggy pants, was rubbing on my leg and I slid my palms down toward it, caressing ribs and the delicate hollow of his taut little waist. When my fingers pushed under the satin pants they found nothing but silky warm skin. The boy was naked underneath. "Gatto..." I breathed, quivering to the passion surging through me. Edwin growled softly in reply and while I massaged the glossy curve of his butt he writhed, twisting and squirming. His hard rod pushed against my thigh. "Please. Please, Coach," he begged. I told myself that it was too soon; that it was all going too fast. That we should take more time... The boy was staring up at me, pleading... "Coach... I did everything. I'm ready." And then it was too late to hold back. I wanted him. He knew it and wanted me as well. And so the tide took us... Picking Edwin up I carried him into the bedroom. There we slipped the loose shirt off over his head and unbuttoned his pants, letting the baggy garment fall away to leave him naked, his jutting boy stick so hard the tip was jumping with every heart beat. I stretched the aroused boy out on the bed, grabbed KY and a bottle of Hawaiian Tropic from the bathroom and then stripped quickly. Edwin lay with his arms thrown back behind his head, watching, his rigid shaft quivering. I spread his long skinny legs, knelt between them and the boy pulled them up, holding them behind his knees so I could spread slippery gel and oil around his opening. He gasped with pleasure, straining his slender thighs apart as I pushed with a finger to lube inside. Then I spread more lotion over my straining erection and leaned forward. Edwin stared up, dark eyes wide in anticipation. "In me, Coach," he pleaded. "Make me strong." He pulled his knees back further, opening as much as he could. The head of my thick straining shaft was at the boy's opening. Reaching down I guided with my fist, pushed and felt the tip squeeze in, stretching the ring. The muscle clamped on me painfully and Edwin's head arched back. He groaned, hugging his knees. The ring fluttered in spasm as he fought to give himself. Then with a thrust I penetrated him, the blunt tip of my shaft burying itself in the heat of Edwin's young body, and with a little cry of passion the boy jerked. For a few moments he kept himself in tension, arched up, head drawn back, hands gripping his knees. Then arms and legs went around me, tugging, trying to pull me in deeper. "Ai... Ai... Coach... Mas... Mas... Aiiiiiiiiiiii.." I was sinking into him. The boy's twisting movements were driving him onto my impaling shaft. Bit by bit it slid in until the full length was imbedded in hot tight sweetness, and then I waited patiently while Edwin squirmed, moving my tip deep within his gut. His arms gripped me so tight I could not move, but at last the boy began to relax and when his palms circled on my back, stroking and tugging, I lifted my hips just enough to begin pumping. My throbbing shaft withdrew less than an inch before I thrust in again bringing a groan of pleasure from the boy who hugged my shoulders and squeezed his legs around my chest. As I began to pump rhythmically Edwin twisted beneath me, writhing in ecstasy and hugging each time I ground my hips at the completion of a thrust. "Coooaaaacchhhh... Ai... Ai... Fucking me... Fucking me... Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." Gradually Edwin loosened. As his gaping ring fully relaxed I withdrew further, pulling out almost completely before pausing and then thrusting in once more. Edwin moaned with passion, feet lifting off my back, twisting as he strained his thighs apart. Head arched back, he lifted to meet my thrusts, desperate to take me harder and deeper. "Mas... Mas... Aiiiiiiiiii... Fucking me... Aiiiiiiiiii..." Wanting it as much as he did I tried to pump faster, sliding in the boy's hot sweetness, his muscular ring gripping tight each time he arched up. Pressure built in my loins and I shuddered, fighting to hold it, wanting Edwin's first time to be as long as I could make it. Edwin's head strained back, his mouth opened wide as he uttered more high-pitched cries. "Mas... Mas... Mas... Mas..." Faster and faster... the tide rising in me now... I shuddered again, unable to keep back a spurt of slippery warmth that shot into Edwin's tight cavity. Teetering on the edge, I squeezed to hold back and might have prolonged it even more for the boy but in his passionate eagerness Edwin had already abandoned himself to sensation and would not let me. Writhing, squirming, heaving up to twist on my shaft, the boy clutched at me, forcing the pace, panting, gasping... I felt my control slip and then nothing mattered but to be up in the boy as far as I could, encased in hot sweetness, my groin jammed against his stretched ass. Edwin threw his head back, heaving against me, arms and legs locked around my body. And then with convulsive jerks we were both coming, my explosive spurts filling him while at the same time, trapped between our bodies, his own throbbing shaft sent hot squirts of boy come onto both our bellies. I willed it to go forever, but at last we were spent and I lay gasping with Edwin still clutching me, arms and legs hugging my body. Then I felt the warm touch of his mouth kissing my neck and as his legs dropped back onto the bed my softening member slipped out of his ring. I rolled to my side with the boy's skinny body in my arms and he cuddled close, pulling a leg up over my hip. For a long time we exchanged long deep kisses, Edwin's smooth naked tenderness pressed against my skin, and then at last our lips parted and the boy buried his head in my shoulder. "Gatto," I whispered over and over, and he answered with soft purring growls. I stroked his hair and he turned his head to look up at me with shining eyes. "Someday I will be the jungle cat, yes?" I nodded. "Yes, you will." He sighed in contentment. "Coach, I was not shy with you." Responding to the pride in his voice I kissed him and said, "You were perfect." "Now, I am yours." He thought for a moment and then gave me an anxious glance. "You will not stop liking me?" I shook my head. "Never. I have seen within you. I have seen you as you truly are. I can never stop liking you." "Never," the boy echoed. I kissed him again and he snuggled against me. After a while I grabbed the Hawaiian Tropic bottle and began to rub lotion into Edwin's back and shoulders. The boy loved the feel of my hands on his body and he sighed happily, giggling every once in awhile when I tickled him. I spread more lotion on his butt, sliding my hand over the firm muscular mounds while the boy squirmed around so I could push into his crease. I felt his rigid boy stick pushing against my belly like a hard little branch. "Do me again, Coach," he begged. "Yes." I kept spreading lotion - over his butt cheeks, in his crease, around his thighs... Then I gently eased him onto his back. The boy lay with eyes closed, lips parted and his slender arms thrown behind his head. His stiff shaft jutted up hard and quivering from his groin. I dribbled lotion on the little tuft of soft hair at its base and gave the rigid pole a quick swipe with my oily fingers. Then I went to work spreading lotion over Edwin's thin chest and angular shoulders, both so bony at the beginning of the season, but now showing the first signs of muscular rounding. The boy's light brown skin gleamed like polished marble in its oily coating. I brushed my fingers over Edwin's tiny hard nipples and he stretched, butt tightening, his rigid boy rod straining upward. With my palms I rubbed more oil into the boy's sides and flanks, and then took each thin arm and slicked it with slippery lotion, brushing the sparse black hairs on the forearms with my fingertips and sliding up into the velvety armpits making Edwin squirm and laugh when I tickled. The boy flexed for me, swelling his little biceps and smiled happily when I nodded in appreciation. "Nice." I circled my oily hands on his lean belly, working the lotion into the taut muscular sheath. Further down my fingers traced his bony pelvis, rubbed his silky lower belly and then with both hands I spanned his tiny waist. A gentle stroke added more oil to the coating on his rigid boy stick and it throbbed under my fist as Edwin tightened his butt to make it swell under my stroking fingers. "Do me, Coach," he begged again. "Soon," I whispered, squeezing his shaft. I picked up each of his long slender legs, spreading oil on the thighs, which were beginning to show rounded masses of developing muscle. Then I pushed the edge of my palm into the soft warm creases of Edwin's groin, caressing the tender silky skin. Massaging the boy's warm flesh had aroused me and when I finally put the lotion bottle aside my erect shaft was aching to be sheathed in his heat. I rolled him onto his side, stretched out behind him and the moment Edwin felt my tip push on his butt he moaned and pulled his leg up, opening to me. With a hand around his skinny waist and the other guiding my rigid tool I slid onto his clenched dimple. But before I even started to thrust Edwin was straining to push back onto my rigid pole, panting and moaning as the blunt thickness stretched his tight ring. There was squeezing, I felt a pop, and then Edwin was jerking and my tip was there in his hot rectum. "Coach... Fuck me! Fuck me!" Tightening my arm around Edwin's dainty waist, I arched, thrust - and my thick hard shaft slid up into tight hot moistness, impaling the boy on my full length. "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." Edwin's head pulled back. He groaned in ecstasy, quivering and twisting on the fullness penetrating him, and beneath my encircling arm there was a bulge in his skinny belly. "Coach... Coach... Mas... Mas... Fucking me... Mas..." In slow, deliberate rhythm I pumped my hips, sliding my engorged shaft in Edwin's hot cavity, the tight rim of his opening gripping like a tiny fist. Back and forth... Tremors shook the boy and he panted, arching, straining, his lower legs kicking. With my free hand I caressed his silky thigh, his glossy hip and then moved to his groin, combing fingertips through his little tuft of hair before taking his jutting boy stick in my fist and pumping its oiled length. Edwin's gasps came faster and he threw his head back, arching in passion, fists clenched. I deliberately slowed my stroking to prolong his pleasure, but at last the boy went over the edge and with his feet kicking and contractions throbbing under my pumping fist, spurts of glistening boy cum arced from his tip. When the spasm passed Edwin sagged back against me, but I was determined to give him more, as many as possible, and I continued to thrust my hips, sliding in steady rhythm within his body while my fingers rubbed his boy stick, avoiding the sensitive tip. Edwin groaned, slender body writhing, passion mounting in him once more. "Fuck me, Coach... Fuck me..." Time slowed, stopped, and all that mattered was the pleasure I could bring the boy... peak after peak, smooth silky body impaled on my thrusting spike and my fingers sliding on his quivering boy stick... now fast, now slow... drawing him onward... Edwin passed into a dreamy trance of passion, arching, jerking, milky droplets running from his slit down over my rubbing fingers... Bars of sunlight slanted through the window blinds, glistening on Edwin's oiled body, turning him to sculpted gold. I breathed in his boy scent, the fragrance of youth, of all that was wonderful and good in the world, and love for the boy went through me like a sword leaving me helpless to keep back all that was building in me. I thrust harder and faster, it was impossible to resist, and Edwin strained to open even more, pushing back to meet me, arms and legs quivering as he gave little bleating cries. "Ai... Ai... Ai... Ai... Ai..." I was going faster and faster, pounding the boy, my fist a blur on his rigid penis. I felt the first sudden throb and thrust one final time, locking against the curve of Edwin's butt, stretching up to get my thick shaft in as far as I could. Edwin cried out. For an instant we hung there, bodies arched in tension... Powerful contractions pulsed in my shaft setting off jerk after jerk that bucked my hips. My load went into the boy, hot throbbing spurts of sensation that took Edwin into another shuddering release. Matching every buck of my hips with his own he heaved against my restraining arm, pulsations throbbing in his stiff rod, droplets flying from its tip. I willed it to go on and on and on, thrusting even after the contractions eased, but at last the boy and I lay still, panting, our hearts pounding, and I relaxed my grip on his waist. When my softening member slid out of him Edwin moaned and rolled over to nestle with slender arms around me while I held and stroked him until his trembling stopped. Then I kissed his closed eyelids and sweet scarred little mouth. "Gatto," I whispered. The boy's lids fluttered, opened and he gazed up, purring, "Grrrrrrrrrrrrr..." I kissed him again and his hug tightened around me. "Forever, Coach. Forever I am your jungle cat." "Forever," I promised and the wonderful look my third baseman gave me was worth more than all the Championship Trophies we would ever win. [ The End ] *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- Hope you enjoyed it! This baseball series has a 'long' short story for every position around the diamond. Look for a new chapter or two each month. Here is a short excerpt from the next in the series - The Shortstop: ...Shane was the heartthrob of the fifth grade, and I had drafted him. "I think we should try for this kid," my assistant whispered. We were at the spring baseball tryouts watching a well-built 11-year-old with long unruly blond hair field ground balls. He was a slim rangy looking kid, a little above average height. His fielding was not expert, but the moves were quick and graceful. "Yeah," I whispered back, taking a quick glance around. We were the only ones taking an interest in the boy. I searched my memory. "He didn't play 9 and 10 coach pitch, did he?" My assistant shook his head. "Nah. Ranch kid. Lots of them don't. Parents have trouble getting' them into town for practice." "How do we know he'll come to our practices?" "I know his oldest brother. I'll check into it." After watching the boy a bit longer I got out my notebook. "Let's hope no one else spots him. The kid's a natural. What's his name?" "Shane," my assistant told me. Shane turned out to be my second round pick in the draft that year. I was choosing third out of six and my first round selection was a little pitcher I felt we had to have. I sweated out the next five choices before it got around to me again and I was able to take Shane. Apparently only my assistant and I had seen his talent. But there was a footnote to our draft selection. It turned out that my assistant's wife, a volunteer school aide, knew the boy and she chuckled when I came in for a cup of coffee after the meeting and handed her our list. "You fellows drafted Shane? You better be prepared for little girl fans screaming in the bleachers at your games." I half-choked on a swallow of coffee. "How's that?" "You don't know?" She grinned at the both of us. "You guys have just drafted the heart throb of the elementary school. Every fifth-grade girl in town is in love with this boy." "Oh, come on Honey," my young assistant told her, "Kids that age aren't interested in stuff like that." His pretty wife laughed. "Boy are you out of it, lover!" She poured a coffee for herself. "They start dating at nine these days!" The poor guy looked anxiously at the playpen where his one-year-old daughter was gurgling happily. "Ours better not do that!" His wife chuckled again and kissed him. "Good luck, dad!" Draft picks can be unpredictable, but this time ours were all good, and none more so than Shane. He was everything we thought he would be and by the end of the season more than one coach was probably wondering why they had not chosen him. I did not get to know Shane too well that first year. He was shy with adults until he knew them well, and except for practice and games I never saw him. He lived miles out of town on his father's ranch, but our fears of his not being able to get to practice turned out to be unfounded. Someone, either one of his married sisters or an older brother, would always drive him into town and then pick him back up. In the few chances I had to talk with Shane he struck me as a rather lonely kid. Despite the popularity at school he only had a few close friends, one of them the boy who played first base for us. I discovered that he was by far the youngest of his large family. All his sisters and brothers were nine or ten years older than he was, and his parents had both been in their 40s when he was born. Living on the ranch, the only child on that big place, it had apparently been difficult for him because it was clear that he enjoyed coming into town for our practices and games with boys his own age. My assistant's wife's prediction about the girl fans proved accurate. They were at every game and we even had a couple show up once at practice - to Shane's total embarrassment. Shane's parents never attended any games, but his older brothers did and they regarded the girl friend business as wonderful entertainment. They teased Shane unmercifully and often used the pretext of 'giving the girls a ride home' to drive off at the end of the day with Shane in the back of the truck, girls on every side and another on his lap. The other boys on our team, and around the league generally, were convinced that Shane was the biggest stud their age in town. I was convinced myself, and I was also sure that Shane was one of the best natural athletes I had ever coached. As both my assistant and I worked with him, his fielding and hitting improved enormously. Within weeks he was starting for us at shortstop and center field; difficult positions for an 11-year-old to play and humiliating for the 12-year-olds he displaced. By the end of the season he was doing some pitching as well and had hit eleven home runs. Every time he came to bat there would be squeals from little girls in the stands, and at the end of the game a few would always be waiting just outside the dugout. In our final game, the Championship Playoff, Shane scored the winning run with a walk-off homer into the parking lot. Everyone went to Pizza Hut afterwards and later, when the celebration was over. I watched Shane go off in the back of his brother's pickup surrounded by excited girls. What a future that kid has, I thought, smiling and shaking my head. A few weeks later, on a Saturday morning, I was puttering around the apartment when there came a knock at the door. To my surprise it was Shane. He had on tight jeans, a cowboy shirt and a ten-gallon hat. In his hand was a brown paper bag... [ To be continued... ] *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* 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