Date: Sun, 23 Sep 2007 11:11:12 -0400
From: carl_mason@comcast.net
Subject: CHRIS & THE COACH - 8

CHRIS & THE COACH - 8

Copyright 2007 by Carl Mason

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or
by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without the written
permission of the author.   However based on real events and places, "Chris &
the Coach" is strictly fictional.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.  As in real life, however, the
sexual themes unfold gradually.  Comments on the story are appreciated and may
be addressed to the author at carl_mason@comcast.net

If you would like to read additional stories by this author, please turn to the
"Authors/Prolific Authors" link at the beginning of the Nifty Archive.

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both adults
and teenagers.   As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the personal
enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults.  If you are not of legal age to read
such material, if those in power and/or those whom you trust treat it as illegal, or
if it would create unresolvable moral dilemmas in your life, please leave.  Finally,
remember that maturity generally demands safe sex.


CHAPTER 8

(Revisiting Chapter 7)

After some light food at an all-night restaurant on the pike, the boys took their dates
home.  As Seth waited in the car, Chris walked Kate up to her door.  As she put her
hand on the doorknob, she looked up at her handsome escort and planted a quick kiss
on his cheek.  "Thanks, Chris," she whispered.  "I didn't think I was going to do that, but
you're a great guy and I thoroughly enjoyed the evening."  Putting her hand on his
forearm, she said thoughtfully, "Above all, I guess, I thank you for your understanding.
Maybe, we can do this again sometime."  With that she quickly entered the house.

(Continuing Our Story:  Christmas Balls)

     Home for Christmas

For the third time (or was it the fourth?) since they had gotten the Christmas decoration
boxes down from the attic, the doorbell rang just as Coach was trying to decide where
to place an old family ornament on the tree.  "Get that, will you, son?" Coach asked in a
harassed tone of voice.  As was often the case, it was Seth Callum, who trailed Chris
into the living room.  In a voice so off-key as to shrivel a corpse - the big farm boy was
loudly singing, "Christmas balls, Christmas balls, It's Christmas time in the city!"  As
Coach threw an empty cardboard box at him, Chris moaned, "It's 'BELLS', dork - and
they're silver!  Guess we know where your mind is!"  "And that's a bad place for a boy's
mind to be?"  Seth replied innocently.

"Where should I place this ornament, Seth?  It hung on my great aunt's tree before I
was born," Coach asked, returning to his artistic conundrum.  "Well," Seth drawled, "if I
were you, I'd try the third branch down from the red light by your left thumb."  Coach
looked at him suspiciously.  "What have you been drinking, Quarterback?  If you think
you're going to play football for me this fall at the College, you'd better watch it!"  "Yes,
sir, Coach sir," the jokester retorted snappily.  "I'm at your service.  How about an extra
pair of hands?"  "You got it!" Chris answered.  "Hang 'em anywhere unless Coach
snarls.  Just don't touch the really old ones that are in that box by his feet."

They finally finished...after nearly two hours...and it was a work of art.  Chris
commented the he only remembered the store-bought ones that servants had
purchased and placed on a small table in the entry hall.  This tree was something else
again!  Happily, Seth began to take extra ornaments and greens and decorate the
mantle...and the staircase...and anything else he could get his hands on.  His buddy
was really into Christmas...maybe because it meant nothing to his folks.  "Just a few
more days to get something done around the house," they would exclaim with no more
emotion than if mentioning the fact that it was raining.  On his way down to the
basement, Dad stopped next to Seth, threw his arm around his husky shoulders,
scoured his black buzz cut with the knuckles of his free hand, and squeezed...hard.  If
he hadn't been present, Chris knew the quarterback would have thrown his arms
around Dad.  Not that he would have minded!  Both men were his family!  "You boys
get a shower!" Dad growled as he let go of Seth and headed back down to his
workroom in the basement.  "I'm taking you out to lunch!"  Playing the goofy St.
Bernard, Beethoven, Seth dropped to all fours and began panting, whining, and raising
one leg in the vicinity of the couch.  "Woof! The Chinese Buffet at the Mall," he begged.
"You got it, Quarterback!" Dad replied as he reached the stairs and disappeared.

Grabbing "Beethoven" by the collar, Chris dragged him to his feet and then pushed him
towards his bedroom.  Shoving him down onto his bed, he first unbuttoned his buddy's
shirt and pulled it off before working on his worn jeans.  "Beethoven" just waved his
paws in the air and happily gave a loud "Woof!"  Moments later, the two naked jocks
headed towards the shower, making sure that they goosed each other every few steps.
Reaching the large stall, Chris adjusted the water before he pushed Seth's butt ahead
of him and entered the luxurious spray.  Shoving his buddy's back against the shower
wall with one hand, he grabbed the liquid soap with the other.  "You WILL obey,
Beethoven, or I won't give you another bone for weeks!" Seth growled.  "Oh woof!" the
shaggy one lamented and immediately held his arms out to the side and hung his head
in mock subservience.  Seth didn't stop until he had thoroughly lathered his buddy's
front side and used his hands and fingers to make sure every square inch was rinsed
clean.  Remembering that you never give a shaggy dog room to jump out of the
bathtub, the Running Back laughingly pressed against his victim and barked (in this
case more like a Marine drill sergeant than a St. Bernard) that it was time to turn
around.  "May I, pal?" he whispered into his best friend's ear as he sensually rubbed his
muscular cheeks with the tips of his fingers.  With what sounded suspiciously like a
giggle, Seth answered, "Oh, yeah..."  The Running Back masterfully entered him with a
move that had left many an opponent sprawled on stadium turf. They didn't let up until
the water suddenly turned cold and began to raise goose bumps on top of their goose
bumps.

The Chinese restaurant, seemingly decorated for Christmas year-round, did provide an
awesome buffet.  Hence, it was jammed most noons.  "I' never thought I'd patronize a
restaurant where you had to wait every time you came," Coach complained, "but the
food is so damned good." Although Seth received a fortune cookie message that said
he needed to be extra careful on dark nights, the boys enthusiastically agreed.  (They
should have...especially after hauling about four heavy loads each back to the table!)
When they had finally eaten their fill, they wandered around the limited stores of the
strip mall for a little while before returning to the house.  Seth had a job that afternoon
and had to be on his way.

     New Friends

Seth wasn't the only friend with whom Chris spent time that Christmas.  For instance,
he experienced a delightful conversation with Kate Foley whom he phoned and was
invited to stop by.  "Hi, handsome!" she greeted him at the door.  "Let's go out on the
sunporch where we can talk."  As soon as he was situated, she left for a moment, only
to return with soft drinks and a plate of homemade cookies.

He looked at her curiously as she gracefully sat down on the couch across from him
and asked what was up.  Man, she was lovely.  Why wasn't there the slightest lurch
between his legs?  Gay teens were surely one group that knew what it felt like to be
members of a minority!  When he hesitated, she smiled and thanked him again for a
wonderful evening at the Holiday Cotillion.  "But you're a little down today, aren't you,
Cotillion King?" the lovely vision continued.  "Want to talk about it...maybe to share?"

"Doesn't seem fair to dump it all on you," Chris grunted, "but, yeah, the Holiday Season
has to be a mixed bag."  "That it is," Kate grimaced.  "What have you seen of the 'Dark
Side'?"  "Well, for instance," the curly-haired one responded, "I had lunch a few days
ago over at the Mall with Seth...Seth Callum.  It's not all that big, but there were a lot of
couples doing their holiday shopping.  Not counting parents with their children, I think
about ninety-nine percent were male-female couples, many high school, having fun,
holding hands.  There was no way on God's Green Earth that Seth and I would have
felt comfortable holding hands!  Or take school.  How comfortable would we be giving
the other a little smooch at the lockers before heading to class?  Yet we probably love
each other as much as most couples at that school.  How many times do you have to
feel that way before you...kinda get an inferiority complex?  Know what I mean?"

"Oh, yes, Seth, I know what you mean!" Kate answered emphatically.  "It's true, of
course, that technically we do most of it to ourselves.  Though women have it a little
easier than men in displays of affection, it's Sally and I...not society...who avoid holding
hands and kissing in public.  On the one hand, I doubt that things will change much until
we do.   On the other, I went to another school for the last two years.  I saw what
everyone did to a couple of girls who dressed more like guys...who were more
aggressive.  And, to be perfectly honest, I later discovered that several of the guys who
were most negative about being in the same room with a really effeminate male...were
gay.  Often, I think, we want to enjoy the feelings that the majority enjoys so much that
we play their game...like at the Cotillion the other night."  Noticing that Chris' face had
developed a pink tinge, Kate held up.  "Sorry, Chris.  Did I go too far?" she asked.

"Nah, Kate, you didn't go too far.  Still, I've gotta ask you, 'What do...lesbians really
think of guys?"  After some reflection, Kate replied, "Well, you know and I know, Chris,
that it's a lot easier to blame someone other than yourself when you feel pain or don't
like something...anyone handy...parents...friends...boys.  The basic problem, I think, it
that we are really not attracted physically to guys and world culture has kept us from
seeking any real alternative.  If there were freedom for us to pursue our own way, I think
we could probably work out some of the cultural and physiological differences that we
usually spend our time and energy talking about.  For example, the majority of straight
and lesbian girls really resent the fact that so many males act like alpha male
chimpanzees.  'Let them pound their chests,' the extreme feminists say, 'have sex with
every creature in the neighborhood, and even kill a few monkeys.'  They often add, 'but
other than collecting some of their semen, keep them on the other side of the island
where they can fight with each other!'  They also point to the continuing inequalities in
salaries...and responsibilities for childcare and household management during the
years when one must establish a professional reputation.  They're remnants of
patriarchal viewpoints that humans brought with us when we came down out of the
trees, and their time on this earth is long past." Pausing for a moment and allowing a
slight smile to creep over her face, she said, "They say that 'turn about' is fair play,
Football Hero.  What do gays really think of girls?"

"Ha!  This one thinks that he might have done better to keep his mouth shut!  I've never
heard a better analysis, Kate.  Yes, the basic problem is that we are just not attracted
physically.  We may like specific girls...we may even LOVE them...but they don't turn us
on and, hence, they don't give us real relief.  Since, we're not free to satisfy our sexual
needs without fear of retribution, we are diverted to points that are really non issues...or
we may become predators.  Yeah, guys bitch about the way many women smell during
sex - and many more have real problems with what they see to be the utter irrationality
of women during their periods.  And, yes, our extremists would keep their role strictly
limited to what the Nazis called 'Kirche, Kueche, und Kinder" [church, kitchen, and
children].  Personally, I think chemists and churches could help more than they do, but
that's another of your cultural problems.  I also think, to quote one of my favorite
presidents, that a chain is no stronger than its weakest link.  Yeah, Kate!  Nice
analysis!"

"I'm not nearly as 'down' as I was when I rang the doorbell, Kate.  Thanks!  By the way,
if there's something decent showing, would you like to take in a movie before the
Holidays are over?"  "Could be, handsome," Kate replied.  "If something strikes your
fancy, give me a ring.  Let's stay in touch, though, however that works out."

(The Assistant Coach)

Christmas was wonderful.  God knows, Chris enjoyed the color, the food, the
camaradere...and the presents.  Perhaps above all, he enjoyed the quiet, less
pressured times with both Coach and Seth.  When all was said and done, however,
Chris was an activist, a person who could not be happy if restricted to the more
"contemplative" pursuits for any length of time.  Before New Years or the two-week
break before the beginning of the Spring term, therefore, he began casting around for a
opportunity to be of service - and, perhaps, to earn a little money.  Surprisingly, he
found it right at the high school where the (fairly liberal) town government was
developing an after-school and weekend program for teens, including subsidies for
those teens who couldn't afford necessary fees.

When the regional high school was thoroughly renovated some three years ago, the
school board left standing a separate building that had been the old high school/middle
school gym.  The thought was that it was still structurally sound and might serve as a
storage and/or central maintenance facility for the whole regional district.  Inasmuch as
that alternative hadn't really developed in tight money times, the large, free-standing
building essentially remained vacant, albeit minimally maintained.

A multifaceted program was planned for the Center: game facilities (such as ping-pong,
tennis, board and electronic games, and more), a small library with volunteer staff
available for homework assistance; an outdoors program (including occasional
opportunities for instruction and/or experiences in camping, skiing, and snowboarding -
mainly for the weekends),  and a fitness/bodybuilding program.  Two medical doctors, a
social worker, and a counselor with credentials in adolescent psychology were also
available on call to the program heads.

Tyler Mannon - young, sharp, a recent graduate of State - one of the ninth grade math
teachers who also coached the freshman football team, was appointed head of the
fitness/bodybuilding program.  During the week between Christmas and New Years, he
was over to the house for drinks with other sports figures in the area.  Chris and he
almost ran over each other as the Coach was returning from the open bar to a gaggle
of football types.  "Chris!" he exclaimed in obvious pleasure.  "Thanks again for those
days you worked with my boys.  They still speak of your contribution with pleasure."  "It
was my pleasure, Coach," Chris replied.  "I think several of them will have a real shot at
making the J.V. team in the fall."  "Let's hope," Coach Mannon grunted, sipping his
beer.

"Chris, you know about the Teen Center that the town is setting up - and you know that
I've agreed to serve as head of the fitness/bodybuilding program?"  "Sure do, Coach,"
Chris replied.  "I think they chose well."  Mannon simply grinned and said, "Thanks,
dude!  You will guess that I need some volunteer help," Mannon continued.  "The town
also gave me a few bucks for an 'Assistant Coach'.  I think the idea was to hire an older
student in the College's P.E. program.  MY idea is to try to talk you into taking the
position."  Grinning mischievously, he added that it would probably interfere with Chris'
modeling, but that he would work the rest of his hours around his heavy academic
schedule.  "I've also got the production of 'Spartacus' during the spring, Coach, though
I've pretty well decided not to go out for baseball.  This program might help me keep in
shape.  I DO want to go out for frosh football in college...wherever that turns out to be."
"We'd work around it, Chris.  That's a promise," Mannon replied.  "What do you say?"
"I'd have to say 'no' to most people, Coach, but I can't say that to you.  You work hard
for the kids, and they really like you.  I also know that you've helped a number of guys
to stay in school, as well as handle some heavy personal problems. You've got your
Assistant Coach, sir!"  During the course of the evening, Mannon introduced Chris to
several sports, Teen Center, and Town figures.  The final word was pronounced by the
Chairman of the Town's Board of Selectman.  "I think you chose well, Coach," he
murmured.  "Yes, indeed, I think you chose well."

Chris ended up supervising three classes with thirteen and fourteen-years-old boys.
Each met for an hour three days a week for eight weeks.  (Those who were in his
classes were envied by their peers and, as might be expected, there were long waiting
lists.  In the six months, he worked at the Center, he only had one serious discipline
problem - and the kid was crying in his arms before their "discussion" came to an end.)
He was also responsible for supervising the boys' use of the locker room and showers
after each of his classes.  Once a week he met with Coach Mannon and helped him
enter records into the computer.  Chris always remembered this period as among the
happiest days of his high school experience.

Coach (Chris) Kearns enjoyed the two fitness classes per week though at times the
supervision could be repetitive and less than challenging.  The glory, of course, was in
the kids. When there was sufficient demand, Chris delighted in working closely with five
or six of the most developed fourteen-year-olds in a bodybuilding class.  These were
the lads who had already put some solid flesh on their arms and thighs.  In many cases
they sported deep chests and genitals that gave very little away to adults.  After the
traumas of the thirteenth year and the wild development that faced many in their
fifteenth, this was a period in which they could regroup emotionally and physically.  If
anything, a moderate program of bodybuilding seemed to calm them down and help
them focus their actions rather than simply react to the latest stimuli...and their
fantasies.

Howie Schaefer was a good example.  A shaggy light blond, the handsome lad was 5'-
5" and weighed in at 140 lbs.  His unblemished skin already seemed a bit stretched
over the new flesh and muscles.  The youngster came from a good family that deeply
cared for him and had given him an excellent start in nutrition, skin care, and the like.
Girls had discovered him (and commonly flocked around), but as yet he had not
responded with any great enthusiasm.  What he had discovered was his solid body, the
excitement he found in improving it, and the pleasure he found in the praise of his
coach.  This gave Chris some problems, for he came to realize that the attraction was
mutual.  As they worked together, for instance, he found it difficult to resist placing a
hand on his firm buttocks or trembling quads, using his fingers to indicate how a certain
exercise could affect his pecs, or manually evaluating aspects of the youth's maturing
body as they sat next to each other in the steam room.  No matter...  Coach was his
hero, and what he did or said carried the authority of God Himself.  Whenever possible,
he could be found close to Coach, smiling, looking up at him with admiration, and
responding to any suggestion he made with a 150 percent effort.  Though nothing
specific was ever said (or done), it became pretty clear over time that Howie would not
have objected to and, perhaps, even welcomed something more.

Fortunately, Chris had the benefit of a wise mentor in John Kearns.  On evening, for
instance, several days after he had first met the boy outside the gym and sensed the
force of the affection between the two youngsters, he took his son aside after supper.
Carefully, he pointed out the legal problems that Chris faced if sex were to develop and
be discovered.  He also went to some length to talk about the old saying that "the cock
follows the heart."  He also made it possible for Chris to talk with a popular staff
member at the College's Counseling Center, Dr. Roger Eberstein.  With their help,
Chris gradually gained control of the situation, avoiding the quicksand while at the same
time providing Howie with exciting possibilities and deepening his trust in those around
him.  Coach knew that he had done the right thing, but he was nobody's fool.  On
several occasions, for instance, he wondered about the degree to which hypocrisy was
involved in his own relationship with Chris.


To Be Continued