Date: Fri, 3 Aug 2012 06:01:48 -0700 (PDT) From: Joe Hunter Subject: Baseball Diamond Tails - 7E 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 - 7E (copyright 2012, Joe Hunter) ::::::::::::::::::::: Left Field: Part E ::::::::::::::::::::: The following week we had games on Tuesday and Thursday with practices on the other days. Although he never complained, Andy's bruised side bothered him for most of that week. He had trouble swinging the heavy bat in the extra drills he did with me, and in the games his hitting was off. But he would rather have died then admit it. Whenever I asked him how he was feeling he always told me, "I'm okay, Coach." We lost both games. Tuesday night it was against another top team we had no hope of beating, but my kids played well and the score was not too lopsided. The second night, Thursday, we should have won. The other team beat us in the final inning on a disputed play. Going into that last inning we were ahead by one run and my kids were big time excited. The first win of our season was right there if we could just get three outs and keep the other guys from scoring! Their lead off batter managed a single but the next one blooped a weak grounder to the right side and Benjy, playing at first base, stepped on the bag for the out and then threw to third to prevent the runner from advancing. They had a man on second, but we had an out and Kirk, my best 13-year-old pitcher was throwing well. Watching from the dugout I was tense but optimistic as I listened to my kids chatter in the infield. "Hey batter, batter... Rock'n roll now! Rock'n roll... Give 'em the heat!" Kirk had the count at 2-1 on the next batter. He fired in a nice strike and the boy at the plate hit a grounder to the left side of the infield. Chris was at shortstop. He made a good play on the ball and did everything he had been taught to do. He looked the runner back at second, hesitated for one moment to make sure of his balance and then pegged the ball to first. It was an easy out. Benjy made the catch with his foot on the bag while he watched the runner at second cautiously, making sure the kid stayed were he was. As Benjy stood there, holding the ball, the batter running toward him coming up the baseline lowered his head and deliberately blindsided him. The boy was much bigger and heavier than Benjy. My slender young first baseman was slammed into the ground and the ball, knocked from his hand, went rolling off into foul territory. By the time the right fielder got in to retrieve it the runner on second had gone around to score, tieing the game, and the batter who had just wiped out my player had tagged up at second base. I raced out of the dugout to where Benjy lay sprawled on the ground and while I knelt down, checking him over, the rest of my team, including Andy, gathered around us. Fortunately there did not seem to be any serious injury, but the boy was dazed. Andy knelt with his arm around Benjy's shoulders, telling me, "I've got him, Coach." I straightened up and turned to the field umpire who was standing just a few feet away. "Look, you can't allow that kind of thing," I told him angrily. "That kid should be put out of the game, the runner should be brought back to second, and there should be two outs! My player could have been seriously hurt. That was deliberate." The other team's coach, a skinny loudmouthed guy I did not particularly care for, had come running over as soon as he saw me heading for the umpire and now started protesting loudly, "That was a clean hit! Your boy was in the baseline. He shouldn't have been standing there! It was just clean hard baseball!" I looked at the umpire. "First of all," I told him, "My kid was not in the baseline. He was standing at the side of the bag. Second, even if he was in the baseline, we have a league rule that says on any close play the runner must slide. We have that rule to prevent just this sort of thing from happening. This isn't football. What we just saw was a deliberate attempt by one player to hurt another. Whatever that is, it's not baseball! Now what are you gonna' do?" The other coach was livid, screaming at me, "Are you saying my boy tried to hurt your player? That was a clean hit! Clean hard baseball! You better teach you kids how to stay out of the way! If they get hurt it's your fault. My players are taught to be aggressive!" I ignored him, concentrating on the umpire, but the man just shrugged and walked away. "Clean hard baseball!" the other coach kept shouting at me. When I turned and stared at hem he spun on his heel and walked back to the coaching box at third. I went back to my team. "You okay?" I asked Benjy. Andy was helping him to his feet and the boy looked shaky as he tried to stand. "I'm all right, Coach. I'm sorry." I patted his shoulder. "OK, Tiger. You made a nice catch and you got the out. Just keep an eye on those runners from now on." He nodded. Andy picked up Benjy's glove, handed it to him and then looked at me. "That other coach is a jerk." I gave him a wry smile. "Yeah. He is." With a pat on his friend's butt Andy said, "You're doin' good, Benjy." Then he ran back to his left field position. He made a great catch out there for the second out and then played a line drive that went into the corner so well that he saved a run, but the other team scored again on a double to right and won the game. The boys were disappointed when I got them together after the hand shake with the other team. "Tough loss," I told them, shaking my head. "You played well. You deserved to win. We play these guys one more time and you'll have another chance. Don't get down on yourselves! Let's have a good practice tomorrow, and next week we're playing another team you have a good chance of beating. Keep your heads up and stick together! That's the most important thing! Stay tight. If you all keep working together you'll be surprised at how well you'll do. I'll see you all tomorrow!" As the boys filed out of the dugout I shook hands with each one and gave every boy an individual word. For my slender first baseman I had a little hug. "Feeling okay now?" He smiled and nodded. "Yeah. I'm OK." "You made a good play," I assured him. "What that other boy did was wrong. But it's over. We can't do anything about it, so let's learn from it. From now on, watch your back. Remember, not everybody's a good sport out here." "I'll remember, Coach." Andy stayed with me as he always did, helping with the equipment. He gathered up the batting helmets and stuffed them into one of the big duffel bags. I could tell he was a little down so I put an arm around his sturdy shoulders and gave him a quick hug. "You played great for me tonight, Champ. Thanks." The boy shook his head, his eyes downcast. "What's wrong?" I asked gently. "I'm not hitting. I should be getting hits for you. If I was, maybe we'd have won tonight." He looked up at me in anguish. "I'm sorry, Coach! I'm gonna' try harder!" I knelt down in front of him and put my hands on his small taut waist. "Listen to me, Champ." I looked straight into his eyes, "You're my best player and I love you more than my life. Don't you think I know how hard it's been for you to swing the bat with that pain in your side? Don't you think I know how hard you've been trying? You're the bravest, most wonderful boy in the world! You're all heart and courage. I'm the luckiest coach that ever lived because I have you! Don't you think I know that?" I shook him very gently. "Don't you?" Andy stared back, his eyes two dark pools. "I know you do, Coach," he whispered. "You're hitting's gonna' be just fine," I assured him. "Your side'll get better, and we're working on your strength. In a few more weeks you'll see a difference. Just be patient. Don't lose faith in yourself! And don't lose faith in me, okay?" He nodded solemnly, looking into my eyes. "I won't." "Good...." I stroked his waist. "You play so well every game, Champ. So well.... I'm so proud of you, son...." Andy's face was now glowing with love and affection. I brushed my eyes and got up. "Go get your bike, Champ. I'll meet you at the truck." On the way to my to my vehicle with the equipment bags I helped the two mothers who had snack bar duty get the trailer closed and locked up. As I swung the big duffel bags into the bed of my pickup, Andy came with his bike and I loaded that in on top of the bags. Then he trotted after me as I went to turn off the field lights. In the sudden darkness that followed both dugouts were vague shapes crouching to either side of a ghostly infield. The loom of the announcer's stand behind the backstop was barely visible in the glow of light from the airport. "No stars tonight." I said, checking the sky. There had been a little overcast all day. Andy leaned against me, one arm around my waist. "Coach?" "What, son?" "You really like me, don't you." It was a statement, not a question. He said the words with perfect trust. "More than anything in the world," I told the boy, hugging his shoulders. Andy turned, hugged back and buried his face against my side while I stroked and petted. Beneath the thin tight cotton of the uniform shirt the boy was all firm smooth warmth. Andy held me for a long time as I caressed him in the dark, and when he loosened his grip at last, looking up, I bent to kiss him. He squirmed against me, rubbing his crotch against my knee. "Hungry, Champ?" I asked as our lips parted. He nodded. "Let's go. I'll buy you something." Because I was convinced he was not eating enough I had gotten into the habit of stopping at a Subway every night and buying Andy a sandwich. The store was in a strip mall a block from the field. While we drove there through the evening traffic, Andy leaned close with his legs spread so I could put my arm around him, stroke his tummy and rub a hand over his bulging crotch. At the sandwich store I bought him a turkey and swiss sub with a carton of milk to wash it down and sat watching him munch happily. "Is your mom home tonight?" He nodded. His mother had been home early every day that whole week. "Guess we'll have to wait till Saturday," I said. Andy gave me his little smile and his eyes twinkled. When he finished his sandwich I took him back to the truck and as soon as we were in the cab he slid over next to me. While I was starting the engine, he glanced around to be sure no one could see us in the dark parking lot, then he hooked his thumbs in the waist of his uniform pants and pushed down both jock and pants. Usually they only went to his knees, but tonight he wiggled and pushed everything down to his ankles. Leaning back against me with a little sigh he drew up his shirt and was virtually naked. Then he pulled my hand to the thick little branch straining up out of his groin. I felt it quiver under my touch. I began to pump, moving thumb and two fingers swiftly up and down the rigid shaft, stroking the lovely smoothness of Andy's stretched exposed body with my other hand. He moaned softly, pulling his slim muscular legs up onto the seat and spreading his knees. As I kept rubbing him, sliding my fingertips over his sensitive slit, the boy's engorged boner throbbed. Andy arched up, groaning. "Ohhhhhhhhhh...." With a sudden thrust his hips jerked against my stroking hand and his head pulled back. Squeezing... arched up... every muscle in his perfect young body in quivering tension, the boy jerked again, and then his rigid branch began pulsing rapidly under my fingers. Milky warmth dribbled off the tip. "Ah... Ah... Ahhhh," the boy moaned softly. "Finger me," he begged. "Finger me." I spread the slippery droplets of his boy climax over my fingers, reached between his thighs and Andy lifted up, straining his knees apart to open himself. Arching, eyes staring sightlessly, he stretched his arms back behind his head as my probing finger slid into the dimple of his clenched opening. I pushed against the tight little ring and the boy squirmed, bearing down as the fingertip slid into his tight heat and then thrust up full length, twisting inside to find his nub. I pressed firmly, massaging the tiny swelling and Andy moaned with pleasure, muscular little body writhing on my lap. "Harder," he whispered urgently, "Harder," and I forced in a second finger making him groan softly. With my other hand I began to rub his thick hard shaft. The boy squirmed on my upthrust fingers, head arching back even further. "Ahhhhhhhhhhh," he moaned. His body went rigid again, his boner throbbing and jerking. "Uh, Uh, Uh," he gasped, hips thrusting. "Coach.... Fuck me, fuck me.... Fuck me...." he pleaded. I slid my fingers out of Andy's rectum and held him as I slid awkwardly from behind the wheel over to the passenger side. I was so aroused my straining erection was painful. With difficulty I slid jeans and briefs down to my ankles, spit on my palm, spread saliva over the head of my quivering shaft and then held the half naked boy over it as he supported himself on the dashboard. Hastily positioning my engorged tip against his tight little ring, I put my arm around Andy's hard lean waist and pulled him down against me. The boy gasped as the thick head of my rod entered him. His ring clenched in spasm around the neck of my shaft and the boy tensed, every muscle in his body rock hard. I held him... waiting... and when the sphincter fluttered, then loosened, I pulled his perfectly sculpted young form down and thrust my hips up. With an incredible sliding sensation my rigid hardness buried itself in the boy's tight hot sweetness, impaling him fully. Andy's head went back almost double, mouth open wide in a long moan of pain and ecstasy. His lithe body twisted, driving me even farther into his hot depths. I leaned back on the seat, lifted my hips and Andy gave little gasping cries, "Ah... Ah... Ah... Ah..." I kept one arm tight around his waist and used the fingers of my other hand to fondle his boy worm. He had gone limp as I had penetrated him, but some rubbing stiffened him and he quickly lifted once more into quivering rigidity. He put one of his own hands on his hard muscular tummy, stroking and pressing inward. "Ohhhhhh," he groaned. "Coach.... Coach, I feel you inside me... so big.... Oooooooo..." I thrust my hips up rhythmically, pulling him down at the same time with my encircling arm. I was unable to slide in and out, but as I stretched up into him my movements shifted the tip of my penetrating shaft in the boy's heat. My fingers pumped faster and faster on his throbbing boner. "Ooooo, harder!" Andy moaned. "Harder.... Harder.... " He pushed against his belly with his hand, head arching back against me, tense body writhing and twisting. Then I felt him shudder. He pulled his legs up... then his entire little body convulsed in jerking heaves as his straining boyhood pulsed again and again under my rubbing fingers. Dribbles of slippery warmth went over my pumping fist and Andy shuddered in first one and then a second and third wave of contractions that heaved him against my encircling arm, bucking and kicking. As the pulsations eased at last he collapsed against me, head lolling against my shoulder. I stroked his heated flesh, circling a palm over silky smooth chest and tummy, massaging the perfectly formed swellings of muscle in his young body. "My ballplayer," I kept whispering. "My wonderful champion." I was still rigidly hard inside him and he remained completely impaled on my lap. Gently, slowly, I lifted the boy up, sliding the length of my engorged shaft out of his body. Andy was limp in my hands. Awkwardly I maneuvered out from under him, placed the boy on the seat and after a struggle got my clothes pulled up. Once I was back behind the wheel I pulled Andy over to me and the boy wiggled to get his shirt up and be naked as possible. Then he stretched out, head on my lap and feet up on the seat, knees sagging apart. I stroked his hard smooth body and slid my hands along silky inner thighs. Andy closed his eyes and his lips parted. I put the truck in gear, drove out into the traffic and with my fingers on his hard thick boy rod I kept stroking and caressing all the way to the trailer park. "We're about home, Champ," I told him as we made the turn onto his street. Andy turned to hug me. "Not yet," he pleaded. Reaching into my crotch he pressed a warm hand against the bulge in my jeans. I stroked his naked shoulder and smooth firm back. "'Fraid so. One more block." "Come in and help with my homework tonight," Andy begged. "Please?" "All right, Champ." When we parked in front of his trailer there were lights on inside. I left Andy in the cab of the truck so he could pull his uniform up while I unloaded his bike, taking my time so he would be able to get himself put together neatly. Together we wheeled his bike into the little back shed and then Andy took me inside. His mother was sitting watching TV. She greeted me with a nod when I told her I was going to help Andy with his schoolwork. Andy put his book bag on the table by the kitchen counter, pulled out an English book to show me his assignment and then went back to his room to change. "Take your time," I told him as he left. "And take a shower!" I leafed through his book while I waited. The water started up in the bathroom and it stayed on for a long while, giving me opportunity to read the entire assignment and make notes on the questions at the end. When Andy finally emerged from his bedroom he was barefoot and wearing one of the baggy satin soccer shorts I had bought for him. He gave me his little smile as he pulled a chair up to the table, sitting as close to me as he could. His lithe tanned body smelled of soap and the coconut scented conditioner he had used on his shiny dark hair. His mother was engrossed in her TV show and we were sitting out of her line of sight. I slipped my hand onto his thigh and squeezed the hard rounded muscle under the silky cloth. Andy spread his legs as I could slide fingers into his groin. The rigid boyhood there strained up against my hand. As I had suspected he was naked under the shorts. I reached up and Andy sucked in his lean stomach to make it easy for my hand to slip beneath the elastic waistband. I felt silky warmth of lower belly and then my exploring fingers curled around the quivering straining shaft of his stiff boner. Glancing up with a smile, Andy nestled closer as I began to rub. We turned the pages of his book and I read his assignment to him. It was a good short story that we both enjoyed. After discussing the questions at the end, I watched as he wrote down the answers on a clean sheet of paper. While he worked my fingers remained busy under his shorts and from time to time Andy would strain his knees apart, tightening his butt and closing his eyes as he made a tiny sound. Once we finished his assignment I told him, "Very, very good, Champ," and rubbed his rigid boyhood a lot faster. Andy leaned back in his chair, squeezing his butt. His hard shaft swelled. Eyes closed and lips parted he strained his thighs apart and suddenly I felt him shudder. He moaned very softly and then a ripple of throbbing contractions pulsed in his stiff boy stub. Andy lifted his hips, dry bucking several times before the throbbing eased and stopped. I slowed my pumping gradually as the boy relaxed. His eyes opened and he glanced at his mother, who was glued to their TV set. Then he turned to look at me and gave me his little smile. "Is this all you have tonight?" I asked. He nodded. "Okay. Let's get you in bed then. I'll read to you for a while." Andy put his homework and book neatly into his school bag. Then we went to his room. Before he went to bed, we put his uniform in the wash and he did his exercises. He was getting much better at the back arches and I nodded in approval as he did ten full sets on his bed. When he had finished, tired but very proud, he lay on his back looking up at me, wide dark eyes glowing in accomplishment. I stroked his sturdy little shoulders and smoothed my palm over the rounded swellings of muscle in his immature chest. After bending to kiss him I gently pushed at the waist of his shorts and Andy lifted his hips so I could slide them off and admire his naked body gleaming in the light like oiled marble. The boy's thick little shaft strained up rigidly from his groin. He tightened his butt to make it swell and arched slightly, displaying himself while he stared up at me to be sure I was noticing. I put my fingers on his quivering member, rubbed firmly and leaned over to whisper, "You're the best, Andy. My champion. The best boy in the world." With a soft little sound Andy reached for me, winding his slender arms about my neck to hug while I kept rubbing his shaft with one hand and holding him with the other. The boy hugged tighter as I rubbed faster. Suddenly his taut body shuddered, the rigid little branch in my fingers pulsed rapidly and the boy gave another soft cry, writhing against me. "My ballplayer," I whispered. "My wonderful ballplayer. I'm so proud of you." Andy sighed and cuddled as his contractions eased. I held him, stroking and kissing his firm rounded shoulders. Finally I pulled down the bed covers and slipped the naked boy between the sheets. "Coach?" He asked, looking up wide-eyed. "What Champ?" I whispered back. "I'm your best player, aren't I?" The boy's eyes were pleading with me. I slid my palm over his smooth forehead and stroked his dark hair. "Yes, Champ," I told him gently, "You're my best." "You'll take me for All-Stars, won't you?" "Just don't get hurt anymore, Champ. I'll pick you." Andy sighed again and closed his eyes. "Read to me, Coach," he whispered. I picked up the book from the upturned box that was his bed stand. He was in the middle of "The Black Stallion" and I opened it to his mark. "Do you like this one?" I asked, with a smile. The boy nodded. "It's really good, Coach." As I began to read the boy pulled his hand from under the covers and put it on my thigh. He rubbed gently while I read chapter after chapter to him. It was quite a while before he went to sleep, but at last his eyes were closed and I carefully removed his small hand from the inside of my leg. When I left he was sleeping peacefully, the baseball player nightlight glowing beside him. The next day, Friday, we had another good practice, and because they had the weekend off I tried to make the session as upbeat and enjoyable as I could by having lots of contests. We divided the kids into two teams and did a three-inning scrimmage. Then I pitted the 13-year-olds against the 14's in base running drills and a relay throw contest. Batting practice, always the big favorite, I livened up by awarding points for the best and longest hits and then gave out two prizes, a jumbo Hershey Bar for the overall winner and a Dairy Queen gift certificate for the boy with the highest score who did not have a hit in a game yet. We finished with a game the kids loved to play--'Strike Out The Coach.' With the rest of the team acting as umpires, the boys took turns pitching to me and tried to get me to strike out. They were almost never able to do it, but they loved to try. I let everyone have a turn and kept hitting until finally Andy pitched to me and then, to the boys' delighted shouts, I deliberately whiffed. Andy grinned happily as I held him up and declared him the winner. "Guess what's in the back of my truck?" I shouted. I had stopped off at a convenience store on the way to practice and loaded some old buckets with ice and soda. None of the boys had noticed yet. They all ran excitedly to look and I heard their happy cries when they discovered the cold drinks. Soon everyone was guzzling soda contentedly. "You guys have a great weekend!" I told them all. "I'll see you Monday." Andy wheeled his bike over to my truck and we waited while the rest of the team left with their parents. Then we did an hour of wiffle ball hitting with the heavy bat. Andy's bruised side had finally healed, he was swinging hard again. To celebrate I donned a catcher's mask for our last round and tossed hard balls in from the side instead of the light wiffle balls. Andy smashed every one of them into the backstop. "We're making progress, Champ," I told him and Andy gave me his quick little smile. "I feel stronger, Coach." "Do your exercises today?" He nodded. "Twice already. One more time tonight." "You're the best, son," I told him with a pat on the shoulder. . We packed up the equipment and loaded it into the truck with Andy's bike on top. Then as we climbed into the cab I saw Andy glance around quickly. Our practice field and the huge tract of land beyond were completely deserted. My truck was the only vehicle in sight. He lifted his hips, slid his practice shorts and jock down and pushed them to his ankles. Then to my surprise he leaned down and pulled his clothes off completely, kicking them aside in the foot well. His T-shirt had been gone since before we started his wiffle ball drill. A few more tugs removed Nikes and socks, and with his taut compact little body completely naked he leaned back against me and pulled my hand down onto his rigid boner. "Fuck me, Coach," he begged. "Please. Right now. Please, Coach...." Waves of passion had been breaking over me as I watched him strip. I stared at the beautiful nude boy stretched on the seat before me; silky smooth perfect body, the classic lines and swellings of young muscle turned to exquisite sculpture in the glow of late afternoon sunshine. My manhood, trapped in my jeans, ached as it strained to be rigid. The boy arched slightly as I reached for his stiff quivering branch and the display of taut shifting muscle in his youthful form sent another flash of desire shuddering through me. "Andy," I whispered. Moving the boy over on the seat and shifting out from behind the steering wheel, I struggled to get pants and boxers down, nearly ripping them in my haste. Then, just as I had the previous night, I pulled the aroused boy down on my hard throbbing shaft, impaling him, filling him completely as he writhed, twisting and moaning in ecstasy. "Ohhhhh," he whispered, stroking his tight narrow tummy and then rubbing himself. "Ohhhh.... I feel it... feel it.... In me... Harder... Harderrrrr...." As I moved inside the boy, with the sensation of his naked body twisting and thrusting on my impaling rod, I experienced a pleasure more intense than any I had ever felt. Andy's tight hot chute gripped my straining shaft. I groaned, holding the boy's smooth hard body around the waist as I pumped his rock hard boner with thumb and fingers. Leaning back, Andy pressed against me, squirming in passion, head arched over my shoulder. "Uhhhhhhh.... Coach.... Fuck me... fucking me.... Harder...." An enormous tide of passion swept through me--huge waves of pressure nothing could hold back. I was panting.... Squeezing.... It had all happened so fast! I wanted it to go on... forever! But the boy was so perfect! His need so great.... "Andy!" I groaned. "Andy! Ohhhhhhhh...." My hips lifted, thrusting deep, and I came in an explosive contraction, filling the boy with spurting fountains of man cream. Andy responded to that throbbing in his gut with a high-pitched cry, jerking against my restraining arm, legs kicking as his thick stiffy pulsed beneath my pumping fingers. His hands flew over his tummy stroking and pressing. "Uh... Uh... Uh... Uh... Uh... Come in me... coming in me... Oooooooo..." At last, passion spent, I collapsed against the seat holding the trembling boy tight on my lap. After a time I wilted inside his body and, grabbing my shirt, I lifted Andy, using the shirt to mop the semen that dribbled down his thighs. I turned the boy and held him like a baby, pressing his sweet precious warmth against my skin while the pounding of his heart thudded on my chest. "Andy," I whispered. "My champion. My wonderful ballplayer." I kissed the boy's eyes, his hair, and then pressed my lips to his. Andy's mouth opened under mine, and as my tongue slid in deep he moaned softly, wrapping arms around my neck. Gently I circled a palm over Andy's smooth satin flanks. "You OK, Champ?" I asked softly. He nodded and I helped him sit up. There were faint streaks of blood on the shirt I had used as a wipe rag. "You sure?" I asked again. "I'm all right, Coach." The boy turned to stroke my chest and kissed me again. I helped him with his clothes and then pulled up my boxers and pants. The shirt I balled up and stuffed behind the seat. Andy put his socks and Nikes back on, but he only pulled his shorts up to his knees and left his shirt off. When I slid back behind the wheel he leaned against me, still almost naked, sliding his bare upper body against my own bare skin. He sighed contentedly and took my hand, placing it on his rigid straining boystick. "I wish it was Saturday." I rubbed him slowly, sliding fingertips up over his blunt tip. "I'll pick you up at nine tomorrow. Just wear the stuff you usually do for practice." He nodded. "I'll be ready, Coach." Once I got the truck started I insisted he pull up his pants so I could stop at a fast food place and get him a hamburger. As soon as we were clear of the drive-through he pushed shorts and jock back down and leaned, naked, against me. I stroked him while he ate, driving slowly so we could have more time together, but at last we were turning into his trailer court and he pulled his clothes up again. "Coach, can I call you tonight?" "You can call me anytime you want, Tiger." I parked in front of his house. There were lights on inside. His mother's old sedan was pulled up on the lawn and another car was parked next to it. "My aunt's here," Andy said. I unloaded his bike and we put it away. Then the boy got his glove, his shirt and his book bag. There was still too much daylight for a safe kiss or hug so Andy just touched my hand. "I'll call you later so you can check my homework, Coach." Then he turned and went to the front door, stopping to wave at the steps. I waited to be sure he got in, and then drove home. Andy did call me that night, asking to go over his math homework with me, but he had done all the problems perfectly and I knew he just wanted to hear my voice. In the background I could hear the TV going. "Is your aunt still there?" I asked. "Yeah...." Then he whispered into the phone, "I wish I was at your house right now." "Tomorrow," I told him. "We'll have all day. I'll see you in the morning. Don't stay up too late." "I won't. Good night, Coach." We both hung up and I went out to the garage. Andy's boy scent was still there in the cab when I opened the door of the truck. I breathed it in while retrieving my shirt from behind the seat. After dumping it in the wash, I did a workout on my weight bench so I would be tired enough to sleep. [To Be Continued In Parts F through J] *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- 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