Date: Fri, 6 Apr 2012 05:26:48 -0700 (PDT) From: Joe Hunter Subject: Baseball Diamond Tails - 6B 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 - 6B (copyright 2012, Joe Hunter) :::::::::::::::::::: Shortstop: Part B :::::::::::::::::::: On Saturday morning I arranged some drills at the beginning of practice so the boys could work on double plays and I gave Sean some special instruction on the pivot. "This takes a lot of repetition to get right. You need to work on it at home, too." "I will," he promised. The young boy had his shirt off and his hard slender body gleamed with sweat. I gave him a pat on the shoulder and nodded. Base running and situation drills followed the infield work, and a spirited batting practice used up the rest of our time. I watched with satisfaction as Shane cranked a few shots that left the field. "That extra work is really starting to pay off," I told the boy and he smiled happily. After practice I cleaned up the equipment and went home as soon as I could because I had something special planned and I hoped Shane would come over. Sure enough, I had no sooner put the equipment bags away when he came peddling up on his bike, still dressed as he had been at the field - just a ball cap, gym shorts and his Nikes. His slender muscular body gleamed in the sunlight, the satin shorts were dark with sweat, clinging to a firm rounded butt and his smooth skin was hairless except for the fuzz on his forearms. With his long unruly blond hair, blue eyes and upturned little nose he looked like the boy everyone wants their son to be. "You doin’ anything, Coach?" I smiled at him. "You and I are both doing something. Stow that bike in the garage and let's go." He wheeled the three-speed into my dim garage and I followed. Back by the workbench where we propped the bike we were out of sight from the street so I put an arm around the boy's smooth naked shoulders and gave him a little hug. "Nice job in practice today, son." Shane's reaction surprised me a little. He put both arms around my waist and hugged back. I folded him against me, stroking his firm back and the boy rested his head on my chest. After a few loving pats I released him. "Come on. I'm taking you fishing." The boy looked up with delight. "Coach! For real!" He helped me load rods and tackle boxes into the back of the Blazer and we drove off to a supermarket where I bought a cheap foam cooler, ice, soda and submarine sandwiches. "That should hold us," I told the boy, giving him soda and a sandwich to munch on, and we headed out of town toward the nearby mountain wilderness area. Shane ate hungrily and sipped at his soda, his immature but well-formed upper body gleaming in the sunlight flooding through the windshield. The satin gym shorts were very brief and his smooth muscular legs almost bare. "Coach," he said, looking down in embarrassment. "You're really nice." I looked over at him fondly. The boy's face was red and I saw his eyes glance my way and then flick down again. I reached over to pat his supple thigh. "Shane, this is our second season together. Are you telling me that it’s only now you're finding out that I'm a nice guy and that I like you." The boy smiled shyly. He shook his head. "Thanks’ for telling me anyway," I told him gently. "It makes me feel pretty special. I guess you know I think you're awfully special, too." The boy nodded again and his face got even redder. Our town was close to the mountains and we headed into the wilderness area twenty minutes after leaving Main Street. I dropped the Blazer into four-wheel drive and we began climbing a dirt fire road that led 3000 feet up to the top of the first set of ridges. There were magnificent views all the way and Shane stared out the window in wonder. "This is awesome, Coach." "Haven’t you been up here before?" He shook his head. "No one ever took me fishing before." Up on top the road wound back into a wild country of pine forest and vast alpine meadow. The area abounded with wildlife; I had often seen elk, mule deer and even a few bears. I drove the Blazer along the fire road for another half hour until we emerged at last in an open grassy area with a mountain stream running through it. To the west, upland ranges swept away toward high peaks. I parked the Blazer behind a thicket of pine where it was hidden from the road. Shane got out and looked around, staring at the great wall of mountains thrust up into the western sky. "Coach," he whispered, "Coach... it's beautiful." I got the fishing gear and led Shane down the sunny meadow to the stream. "Stay in the sunshine,” I warned, “Or else put my sweatshirt on. Remember, it's summer down in town, but it's only spring up here. It's cool in the shade." The boy put his hand in the water and pulled it right back out again. "That’s cold!" "Snow melt... Run-off from the high peaks. The trout like it, though." I showed him how to bait his hook and then turned him loose so he could try his luck. It was a wonderful afternoon of fun and adventure for the boy. Shane had a marvelous time. Instead of the shy quiet youngster I had been accustomed to, all at once there was a bright exuberant boy who asked question after question and never stopped talking. He wanted to share everything with me. He kept pointing to things that interested him, and listened attentively to the explanations I gave. He never left my side. Some boys when they went fishing with me wanted to go off on their own. Not Shane. The boy was hungry for companionship and wanted my company. We get lucky at one point. My eye caught a movement far up the meadow and I put a hand on the boy's warm shoulder to whisper, "Don't move!" Very slowly I handed him my binoculars. "Look right over there," I murmured, pointing. It was a group of mule deer, one of them a doe with her fawn. Shane stared through the binoculars in rapt fascination. "It’s like I could touch them," he whispered. "We’re downwind. They can't smell us," I told him softly. "As long as we don't move they can't see us either." "Coach, this is so cool!" Shane breathed. Later, in a highlight of the day, Shane caught a trout. It was a nice cutthroat. He played it and brought it in all by himself and I helped him net it. When I held it up for him he was almost dancing with excitement. "I got him, Coach! I got him! Coach, you can eat ‘em, can't you?" "You certainly can," I said, chuckling. "We'll put this guy on ice in the cooler. You can take him back for dinner." "Coach, this is the greatest!" Shane was bubbling with excitement. He hugged me with an arm around my waist and I stroked his hard muscular back, reaching down to pat his rounded butt. "Shane," I told him softly, "You're just the best kid in the whole world. I'm glad you like this." After I took a picture of him with my Polaroid, we stashed his fish in the cooler and then shared a soda in celebration. Shane stared out at the jagged line of peaks to the west. "Coach, you ever gone over there?" I nodded. "Oh yeah... Been all through that country. It's wild. Wild and rugged." "I bet it's beautiful," the boy said wistfully. "Someday I'll take you to see it." "Can we?" The boy turned eagerly. "For real?" "For real," I promised. "I wanna’ do that," he whispered softly, gazing again at the distant peaks. We went back for more fishing and Shane wanted to know everything. Why was it was colder the higher we went? How did trout survive in the winter? What were the names of all the different wildflowers? What did the mule deer do when the snow got deep? What did they eat? He kept checking the alpine slopes with the binoculars to see if he could spot more deer, or an elk. We wandered from one end of the meadow to the other, following the stream. I showed the boy where all the likely spots were for fish to be hiding and we got some nibbles, but no more strikes. This did not bother Shane in the slightest. As long as I was with him he was happy. The sun began to slip lower in the sky and I started to think about getting home. We retraced our steps back along the stream toward the Blazer. It was still bright and warm, but it would get cold quickly up in the mountains as the sun went down and I did not want Shane to get chilled. As we ambled along Shane held out his arms, and then twisted his chest around. "Look, Coach," he said proudly. "I'm getting brown." "Yeah, you're getting a nice tan," I told him. "You'll be even browner after today. There's less atmosphere to block the sun's rays up here." Shane looked down at himself. "I know I'm growing. We should measure me again." Shane was fascinated by his developing body and we had established a special place on a door frame in my apartment where we could record his height. Every Saturday he would stand with his back against it so I could put a ruler on top of his head and pencil a mark on the painted wood frame. Then he would carefully measure how tall he was. "I bet just bein’ up here in all this mountain air is makin’ you grow," I told him, putting my arm around his smooth shoulders. The boy wrapped an arm around my waist and we walked slowly along in happy silence enjoying the sunshine and the spectacular setting. When we got back to the Blazer, I put the fishing equipment away while Shane sat on the front bumper looking out at the mountains. "Coach?" He asked when I came around to join him. "Coach, can you tell how tall I'm gonna’ be?" "Can't say exactly," I told him. "I can make an educated guess. You'll be as tall as your brothers." The boy gave me an anxious look. "But my oldest, oldest brother’s short like my mother, and my other brother is tall like my father. How can we tell what I'll be?" "Well, there are ways," I said, smiling to reassure him. "We’ll track how much you’re growing now and then see how long that might keep up." "How do you do that?" "We check to see where you are in your stage of puberty." "What's puberty?" Shane asked, puzzled. "That's the change you’re going through. You know - from being a boy to a man. There’s different stages. We check the stage you’re in and predict how much longer you’ll keep growing." "Ohhhhh," Shane said thoughtfully, nodding in comprehension. "What stage am I in, Coach?" "I'd have to check you to see. The only way to do it is to look at your... you know..." I waved down at his shorts. The boy stared at me, his face turning a bit red and then he looked down. "Can you check me, Coach?" He gave me a quick glance. "Please? I want you to." I hesitated, and then told him fondly, "Sure, I'll check if you want. But you have to promise that it will be private. Just between you and me. You can't tell your brother or your parents or anyone." Shane looked hurt. "I wouldn't do that Coach. I don't tell them about anything I do. The only person I tell anything to is you." "I know that." I reached to stroke his hair. "I just wanted to be sure." The boy stood up and glanced around. "Can anyone see us here, Coach? I don't want no one to see me." "I don't think there's anybody around but us" I assured him. "But I'll tell you what. Why don't you get in the car and we'll do it there. It'll be more private." Shane scrambled into the passenger seat of the Blazer while I got in on the driver’s side. I showed the boy how to adjust the seat back so he could stretch out comfortably, almost lying down. "OK," I told him gently. "Pull your shorts down." Putting his hands on the waist of his lemon colored gym shorts Shane looked out the window one more time to be sure we were alone, and then lifted his hips and slid the shorts to his knees. He was wearing a small jock underneath. His smooth brown tan ended halfway up his thighs, leavings the glossy skin of hips, groin and butt a glistening milky white. I reached over to tug at the waistband of his jock and Shane put his thumbs under it, lifting his hips again to push it down. I helped him slide supporter and shorts down his graceful lower legs all the way to his ankles. Naked, the boy stretched out on the seat while I leaned over him. He had just begun to develop. The tight little nut sack was slightly enlarged and his penis was just a little thicker and longer than a little boy's. His smooth groin was absolutely hairless, as was the rest of his body except for the light down on his forearms. I stroked my hand over his tight muscular belly. It was like touching warm silk. As I watched, the circumcised head of the boy stick moved and its shaft stiffened. Shane glanced at me and put his hand down to cover himself in embarrassment, but I shook my head and moved his hand away. "It's all right," I told him softly. "It happens." The boy's penis lifted into a rigid four inch boner. I put my fingers on the hard shaft, stroked gently and then moved to his smooth rounded thighs and coaxed them apart. I brushed his sensitive nut sack with my fingertips and watched the skin pull up and wrinkle, and then I rubbed his straining boy stick again. "Squeeze your butt real tight," I told the boy. Shane tensed his muscles and the shaft of his engorged boner swelled under my fingers. "OK," I said, "Relax." I rubbed the boy some more, letting my fingertips brush over his blunt tip, and then after giving his firm thighs a few last strokes, reached to pull up Shane's little jock. Reluctantly the boy lifted to help, the muscles in his lean belly hardening into ridges. He pulled his supporter back up slowly and then his shorts. "You're going to be tall," I assured him. "You're just starting to develop. You have a lot of growth ahead of you." "Are you sure, Coach?" "Absolutely. You're following a perfect pattern. I can see your growth spurt just beginning in your legs." "What do you mean?" "Boys always grow their legs first," I explained. "Look in a mirror and you’ll see it. Your legs are a little bigger and more developed than the rest of you. That's because your growth is starting there, just the way it's supposed to. Gradually your chest, shoulders and arms will catch up as you get taller." "Gee, I hope my feet don't get much bigger," Shane said looking at his ruefully. I laughed. "They won't. They just look big to you now because your lower body is growing so fast." I stroked his smooth thigh. "Stretch your leg out," I told him. The boy extended his lower leg and I squeezed the hard muscle. "You're strong here..." My palm slid over the delicate contours of his knee and then the graceful swell of calf. "Nice," I said. "OK, put it down." I let my hand glide back up the silky skin inside the boy's thigh and brush over his satin shorts. Inside the pouch of his supporter he was still rigidly hard. I pressed on the straining bulge gently, and then moved my hand up onto Shane’s slender tummy. Pushing beneath the elastic of shorts and jock my fingers slid down onto silky warmth. "Now lift both legs," I told him softly. Shane pulled up both of his legs. The muscles in his lower belly became rock hard. I slid my palm over his groin creases, feeling the rounded gloss of his upper thighs. "OK, relax," I said, and Shane lowered his legs again. Brushing lightly with my fingertips I moved to his groin, rubbed up and down his rigid shaft several more times and then finally withdrew my hand. "Put your arms over your head and stretch," I told the boy softly and Shane extended his arms, stretching his body, head arching back. I stroked his firm chest and rounded shoulders, and then my palms circled down the satiny smoothness of his sides. "You're gonna’ be tall, Shane," I assured him. "And very well developed. I'm positive." The boy’s eyes were locked on mine. "Thanks, Coach." I helped him sit up and as we reset his seat back to the normal position I moved my hands around, brushing against his shorts, confirming that he was still hard. "Time we got goin’," I said. "I've gotta’ get you home." Shane squirmed a bit in his seat. He glanced quickly at me. "We can stay longer, Coach. I don't gotta’ be home right away. We can like..." He gave me another glance. “You can like check me more if you want...” "It gets pretty cold up here when the sun goes down," I told him. "Best if we go now." I got the Blazer started and we four-wheeled back across the ridge on the fire road. As we descended, Shane stared out the window at the view. "This is so cool," he kept telling me. It was late afternoon by the time we reached the bottom of the mountain. I flipped the transfer case back into 2-wheel drive and we started the short trip back to town. "Coach?" Shane asked anxiously, "Can you help me cook my fish, please?" "Won't your brother or his wife help you?" The boy shook his head. "On Saturday nights they usually have a party. They won't want to." "Let's wait and see." The trailer where Shane's brother and his wife lived was not too far from my apartment. Shane gave me directions and I parked in front on the street. "Stay here, I'll go talk to them." As I walked up to the door I could hear loud music coming from inside. I knocked and a young woman came to the door. She had a beer in her hand and over her shoulder I could see a crowd of young adults laughing and yelling. "Hi," the attractive girl told me with a smile, shouting because of the noise. "Come on in." I smiled back and explained who I was. "Oh,” she exclaimed and stepped outside, closing the door behind her so we could talk in normal tones. “You're Shane's coach. It's nice to meet you. He's always talking about you." "You must be his sister-in-law," I said, with a grin. “He talks about you a lot, too. Thanks’ a million for fixing little Sean's uniform for him. That was a very nice thing to do and it made a big difference." She gave me a pleased look. "Oh that's all right. Someone had to do it. His mother wouldn’t. She's never around. Getting on your baseball team is the best thing that could have happened to that boy." "Look," I said. "I took Shane fishing today and we caught a trout. If it's OK with you, I’d like him to have supper at my place. We’ll do a cook out; I’ll show him how to grill his fish. Would that be all right?" The girl laughed and nodded. "Sure, that's OK. He spends most of his time over with you anyway." "Yeah,” I told her, laughing as well, “He sure does. That's OK. I don't mind. Listen, you guys look like you're gonna’ be busy tonight. Why don't I take him for the whole night? I've got a sofa bed he can use. It might save you a lot of trouble." "Could you, coach? That’d be nice. You sure it's no trouble?" "No," I assured her. "Shane's a wonderful kid. He's good company. Does he have any things over here? I'll take ‘em, and I'll see to it that he gets back to the ranch tomorrow. What time do you usually drive him out?" "Oh, it doesn't matter," the girl said vaguely. "His parents aren't anxious to get him back. He drives my father-in-law crazy." "Does he have any things I should take?" I reminded her. "I think so..." She went in and came back shortly with a paper grocery bag. "I think that's all his stuff." I checked the bag. Inside were Shane's glove, some baseball cards, a comic book and two T-shirts. I told the girl goodbye, assured her again that I'd take Shane back the next day and then I returned to the Blazer where I found little Sean hanging on the passenger door window talking excitedly to Shane. The young boy turned as I came up. "Hi, Coach," he said shyly. Like all the 11-year-olds, Sean was still rather in awe of me. "Hey, Seany," I told him, ruffling his silky blonde hair. "You had a real good practice today." The boy’s face brightened and he told me eagerly, "I practiced my pivot this afternoon." "That's the way." I gave his shoulder a pat. "Next time you'll get that double play." Sean beamed at me. "Coach, can I show Sean the fish I caught?" Shane begged. "Sure." Shane scrambled out and we went to the back of the vehicle. When I popped open the cargo hatch Shane lifted off the top of the foam cooler and proudly displayed his catch. "Wow!" Sean exclaimed. "Are you gonna’ eat him?" I stroked the boy's head. "Yes he is. We're havin’ a cookout. Shane's spending the night over at my house." "I am!" Shane said delightedly. "Awesome! Thanks, Coach." I nodded. "Here's your stuff," I told him, handing him the bag. "Make sure you have everything." "Oh man, Shane," Sean said enviously. "You get to do all the cool stuff." Shane looked at him, then back at me. "Can Sean come over too, Coach?" Sean grabbed my hand. "Yes, please Coach! Please!" He was looking up at me, eyes wide and appealing in his delicately pretty face. I smiled at both of them. "Sure, you can come. But you have to check with your mom first." "She’ll say yes," the boy assured me. He raced off and was back in less than a minute. Shane still had his shirt off and I saw that Sean had removed his, too, and left it behind. He brought nothing with him. I put him in the back seat and we made the short drive to my apartment. "Is this where you live, Coach?" Sean said in surprise. "You're real close." The boys helped me unload the Blazer, and then we took Shane's fish upstairs. I put charcoal in my little hibachi grill on the tiny balcony and lit it. While the charcoal was burning down to a good bed of coals I showed the boy's how to clean the trout. "You need a sharp knife," I told them, slitting the fish open and removing the guts. "Eeeeugh," Sean said. "Gross!" But Shane looked on, fascinated. "What is that, Coach?" He asked. I identified the different organs for him. "See, this is the intestine, and here's the liver. The fish has almost all the same things you have, but in a different place." "Cool," Shane breathed. Because Shane was interested Sean got interested, too, and leaned close to the older boy so he could see. ."You mean, that's how I would look if you sliced me open?" He exclaimed. He gazed down at his smooth lean stomach and stroked his hand on it. "Gross. I hope no one ever cuts me open." I picked him up and hugged him. "Shane and I would never let anyone hurt you, Sean." The boy hugged me back tightly. I showed the boys how to butter and season the fish and then I had Shane wrap it carefully in tinfoil. "The nice thing about trout is that you don't have to cut off the head. You can cook them in right their skin if they're fresh," I explained. I watched while Shane put his fish on the hibachi. "Let it cook for a few minutes on each side," I told him. "This is just the way we would do it if we were up in those far peaks camping out." "I wish we were there," Shane said. "You'll take me someday, won't you, Coach?" "Me, too!" Sean cried. I laughed and nodded. "Someday." Shane's fish was delicious. The boys devoured it ravenously and I had a small piece to taste. "Boy is that good, Shane," I told him. "I guess next time we'll have to try harder to catch more." Knowing that the single fish would not be enough for them I had gotten out some ground hamburger meat. I made up patties and let the boys cook them on the fire. They ate two each, had a wonderful time and we declared the cookout a great success. Night had fallen. It was getting cooler. I brought the boys in, put a movie on for them and then brought sheets, pillows, blankets and a big thick quilt from the spare bedroom, putting it all on the living room floor for them to sleep on. "Can we stay up late?" Shane asked hopefully. "As late as you want," I told him, stroking his hair. "It's Saturday night." "I don't want to watch any scary movies," Sean said anxiously. I knelt down and hugged him. "No scary movies," I assured the boy. "Shane and I are here to take care of you and we only want you to see nice things." The boys watched "ET", which they both liked and then I put on a baseball movie, "The Rookie", but long before that was over they were both fast asleep, Sean cuddled close against Shane and the older boy with his arm over his younger friend protectively. I turned off all the lights except my reading lamp, sat up for a while to be sure that they were going to be all right, and then went to bed, leaving my bedroom door open so I could hear them if they called. The next morning when I got up they were still fast asleep, cuddled together. I made breakfast quietly and let them alone. When they finally did wake, neither one wanted to go home. [ To Be Continued In Parts C thru K ] *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- 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