Date: Thu, 13 Dec 2012 18:41:32 -0500 From: Sean Williams Subject: The Nicholson Boy, Chapter 6 The Nicholson Boy Chapter 6 "That's Frank Nicholson," I said after Brian asked me who was in the Red Camaro out front. It was a weird thing to say, but hey, it was the truth. "Who?" Matheson asked. "Frank Nicholson. Don't tell me you don't know who that is." Matheson looked around like he lost his puppy and was tryin' to find it. "You would know who Frank Nicholson is better than me," I added. Matheson thought about it for a minute more, then all of the sudden he had a look in his eyes like a lightbulb had come on. Literally, it was like, if I looked in his eyes, I could see his brain workin'. Yeah, Matheson was kind of a simple dude. Matheson was still wearin' just his jock. There was a dark spot in the front pouch from where the last drops of cum had leaked out after our session with the pizza boy. Matheson scratched his nutsack. He shook his head. "Yeah, ok," he said. "Um... that's it?" "What do you want me to say, Tucker?" Brian asked. "I mean, all I can say at this point is maybe you need to get some sleep. I mean, with all this studying for physics, baseball practice, and all the weirdness with Coach Gunn, I mean, maybe you just need some sleep or somethin'. Go to sleep, Tucker. Just get some rest." "But you can definitely see that red car out front, right?" I was in what you might call disbelief. "I mean, you can see it, can't ya?" Some more nutsack scratchin' courtesy of Matheson. "I already told you I can see it, Allston," he said. "It's a pretty nice car, too, but you need to get some rest. I mean, that goes without saying, even though I... um... just sorta said it." Matheson began walkin' over to where his clothes were piled up, in a corner of the room. "I'm just gonna put my clothes back on and give you some peace. How's that sound, dipshit?" I shrugged. "Whatever, Brian." I couldn't take my eyes off of that car. I could even see Frank's face through the windshield. He was clean shaven like he always was, his hair was geled and combed to the side and, to top it off, he had this steely look in his eyes. "Alright, I'm gonna head out," Matheson said after he had dressed himself. I looked over at my baseball teammate and he had sure enough put all his clothes back on. He was definitely ready to head out. "Alright," I said. I got up and headed over to the bed. I plopped down on it. I was still wearin' just my jock, too. "So, um," Matheson mumbled. "When you gonna let me get some of that ass?" I chuckled. My eyes were closed now. "Don't leave the door open this time, man," I said. "Make sure you close it on the way out." Matheson did not say anything by way of reply and alls I heard was the sound of the door closing shut behind him. I was still in bed and I nodded off and fell asleep. I don't think I was asleep for all that long, but I do distinctly recall dreaming about that first night with Frank in the oat field, when I fell asleep in his car. I even dreamt about him carrying me into the house, even though I knew I was asleep when that happened because I didn't remember it and Frank was the one that told me it had happened. The last thing I dreamt about was the three different types of meat Frank made at that first breakfast: bacon, beef sausage, and pork sausage. They were nice dreams, but I was in store for a rude awakening. When I woke up, it was still dark. I figured it must be the next morning. That would mean it was now October 30th. The day before Halloween. I heard a knock at the door. I really didn't wanna get up and answer it, mostly because I was tired and so damn comfortable in the bed that I didn't wanna lose this comfortable position. But then I thought that it might be Frank and I hadn't seen him in a couple of days. I missed him, so as soon as I had the thought that it could be him I jumped up out of the bed and ran to the door. I don't even know what it was that I missed exactly, though if I had to describe it I would say that it was just this sense of nearness. Just this sense that me and Frank were in the same room. It felt really good. Actually, if I had been thinking straight, I woulda realized that it was more likely to be Matheson again or someone else than Frank because I highly doubt that Frank Nicholson, dead guy that he was, would walk right into my dormitory like it was nothin'. I mean, I could be wrong. It was theoretically possible that Frank could walk into my dorm since he had approached me on that bench the first day and given me his shoes. It wouldn't be like he was breakin' the laws of physics or anything. When I reached the door I placed a hand on the door knob. Then I turned it and the door swung open. "Wow, I thought you might be in your Flash Gordon costume but, damn, I was not expectin' this! Hell naw! A sweaty jockstrap?" I tried to push the door closed, but this guy had his foot in the door and he roughly pushed it open. Then he pushed me backwards into the room. It was Coach Gunn. "What's the matter, Allston?" asked coach. "You don't look so happy to see me." Coach was wearin' jeans, boots, and a heavy denim jacket. Coach Gunn was a big dude and he looked even bigger when he was fully dressed. The way he was dressed was intimidating, too. He looked like he was in ass-whoopin' clothes and here I was: almost totally naked if it wasn't for my jock. It was clear which one of us would be giving the ass-whoopin' and which one would be getting it. I would be lucky if an ass-whoopin' was all I got. It wasn't hard to tell where this scene was headin'. "I thought you were gone," I said. I had a hard time gettin' the words out. "I mean, I heard that you had a concussion, coach." "I do," said Coach Gunn, stepping menacingly toward me, "and I wonder how I managed to get that concussion? Any ideas?" The coach was standing right in front of me now. I was pretty much backed up against the wall by the bed. The coach put his hands on my shoulders. His face was only inches away from mine now. "I mean," the coach began, "that concussion wouldn't have anything to do with that bottle you smashed across my face, would it?" "You remember that?" I asked. "Clear as day." I looked at Coach Gunn's forehead and he had a red gash there from where the beer bottle had split his skin. My stepdad told me that those were the worst kinda injuries to get, right across the forehead, because the skin there was so thin and it took so long to heal. The coach also clearly had some small stiches there, too. Really small ones. "I didn't mean it, coach," I said. "I didn't mean to hurt you, but I just wanted to get away." "You did hurt me, though," Coach said. "You hurt me good. Damn good." I swallowed. "I get that you were scared," Coach said. "I mean, I get it. I have a huge bottle-thick dick and I sure enough woulda torn that ass up if I fucked you with it, but damn you got me good. If it weren't for these pain killers, I would be hurtin' so bad that I wouldn't be able to get outta bed." Coach Gunn reached into his pocket and pulled out the bottle of prescription painkillers that the doctor musta given to him. The bottle was almost empty. I wanted to ask coach what he wanted, why he had come to my dorm, but I didn't really need to ask, did I? He clearly intended to give me the ass-kickin' of my life and then finish what he started. By that I mean, rape me good. Things were not lookin' good for Kentucky boy, Tucker Allston. Coach slowly pulled off his jacket and now he was standin' in front of me in just his t-shirt and his jeans. Coach Gunn was such a powerful-lookin' guy that I knew there was no way I was gonna come outta this with my ass still a virgin unless the coach changed his mind. I mean, the coach probably coulda beat the crap outta me with just his pinkie finger and his eyes closed. The coach looked like power personified. Not only could I see every curve of his muscles as he bulged outta his white t-shirt, but I could even see the dirty blond curls of his chest hair through the thin cotton fabric. There was even a tuft of blond hair peakin' outta the top of Coach Gunn's shirt. "Think I should finish what I started?" he asked. "I don't... um... I don't know what you mean... um... Coach..." "Think I should take me some of that ass?" asked the coach. "I've been wantin' to for a long time now." Not good. "I've been wanting to take that ass of yours from the first moment I saw you," said the coach. "I saw you when you first got off the bus from Kentucky, that very first day, on Main Street. You were all by your lonesome. I saw you get off the bus and I saw you take your duffel bag when the bus driver handed it to you. I didn't know who you were, that you were gonna be fresh meat for me on the baseball team, but I could tell that you were not from around here. You got that country boy look to you and I guess it doesn't get much countrier than Kentucky, does it? You were wearin' these tight country boy jeans and I could see your tight little ass when you turned around and tried to figure out which way it was to the dorm. I could see your butt cleavage in those jeans and I thought 'Damn, if this kid is not on the baseball team I'm gonna teach him how to catch and sign him up!' I was gonna fuck that ass of yours if it was the last thing I ever did!" I sighed. "Why're you tellin' me all this, Coach?" I asked. "If you wanna fuck me, just do it. I mean, damn, it's not like I can stop you or anything." Coach Gunn laughed. And it wasn't a quick happy laugh, like he started laughing and then two seconds later it was over, it was like an evil, villainous laugh. He tossed his head back, closed his eyes, and laughed for like half a minute. It was like he was laughin' just to make me uncomfortable. Obviously, Coach Gunn had taken correspondence courses with the Ming the Mercilless School of Villainy. Coach Gunn placed a hand on my lower back. He began to rub it and, to my surprise, he rubbed it gentle like. "You're right, Allston," he said. "If I wanted, I could throw you over my shoulder, take you over to the bed, throw you down on it, and fuck you so hard that you wouldn't be able to walk for three days. Not much you could do about that, now is there?" I didn't say anything. I was tryin' really hard not to be a punk and look scared, but I was scared. Maybe the best thing to do was to just throw in the towel and take it like a man. I mean, if I was gonna get fucked, I'll be damned if I wasn't gonna do it with some kinda dignity. "And no weapons in sight, either," Coach went on. He looked around the room. "No bottles," he said. "No sharp objects. Hey, not even your baseball bat! Where is it, Allston? Did you leave it in your locker?" Come on, Coach Gunn. Just throw me over your shoulder and fuck me already. I don't have the time for for your evil guy dramatic monologue. Halloween is tomorrow and Frank might disappear or somethin'! Just cut to the damn chase already. "So, basically, if I wanted to rape you good, there'd be no way for you to stop me now would there?" "No." Coach Gunn sighed and shook his head. He just stood there, in front of me, for a couple minutes. I don't know what he was thinkin', but if he was doin' this to scare the proverbial shit outta me, it was workin'. Suddenly, the coach turned on his heels and walked over to the foot of my bed. He sat down on the edge. He put his head in his hands. "The thing is," he said, "I don't feel like I wanna do that." "Huh?" "Don't get me wrong," said the coach, "that ass looks mighty good and I am randy as all fuck! I mean, I don't think I've gotten laid in somethin' like three months. After a while, it's like you've jerked off so much that you feel like you might actually lose your ever-lovin' mind. Know what I mean?" Actually, I knew exactly what he meant. "But, the thing is, I don't wanna take it if you don't wanna give it. Your ass, I mean. I want you to want me, too, Allston. I want you to feel the burnin' desire to give that ass up to me. Me and only me, because you want me. What's not to want?" Coach Gunn pulled off his shirt and I saw him in all of his glory. Bulging muscles, big suckable nipples, and chest and abs covered in dirty blond hair. I would be lyin' if I said it didn't make me hard. My dick shot straight up at the sight and I had to cover my crotch with my hands. "Why don't you want me?" asked the coach, lookin' me deep in the eyes. "What's wrong with me?" Wow, who knew Coach Gunn was a sissy. "There's nothin' wrong with you," I said. "It's just... I don't know. You scared me before. You really scared me, man. You're scaring me now." "I'm sorry," said Coach Gunn. He shook his head. "I mean, Allston, I really am sorry. I was drunk before and horny as fuck. Even hornier than I am now. I wanted to fuck you so bad. I thought you wanted it, too. I'm sorry. I hurt you before, but I don't wanna hurt you again." "Alright." "I mean," and Coach Gunn stood up again. He started putting his shirt back on. "I'm so much bigger and stronger than you that I'm still tempted to just take what I came for, I guess it's all this testosterone I have in my body, but I can give you some time. Maybe you might change your mind and let me fuck you senseless. Damn you sure do look good in that jock though. I could just throw you down on the bed, spread those cheeks apart, and slide my dick into your hole. I wouldn't even have to take the jock off. Damn. Maybe I should just leave." And, to my utter amazement, Coach Gunn, without even lookin' at me, turned on his heels and walked toward the door. He put his jacket back on and he stood there by the door for a few seconds. "Sorry, Allston," he said. Coach opened the door, and then he walked out. [TO BE CONTINUED] [Send comments and corrections to the e-mail address above. Also, please support the Nifty erotic stories archive! Thanks, buds!]