Date: Mon, 27 Jun 2016 16:35:18 +0000 (UTC) From: Wolf Pomo Subject: Running the Distance (Gay/Adult Youth, oral, anal, m/M, m/Mm DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of fiction and contains descriptions of explicit sexual acts of boys and men discovering their sexuality. It contains graphic scenes of sex between consenting underage boy and adult males... If this type of content offends you or you are under the age of 18 do not read it. Author's Note: This story is the property of the author. It can be downloaded for personal reading pleasure or sending to a friend, but if you wish to re-post them at your own site, please contact the author for permission. If it is illegal to read such material where you live or if you find the topic distasteful the please leave now. If you enjoy the story or if it evokes memories of your own, please let me know. I am happy to write stories from outlines. Copyright 2016 Wolf, All rights reserved. You may contact me at pomowolf74@yahoo.com if you like. All flames will be ignored. Running the Distance By Wolf When I was in high school I was a member of the cross country team and ran the long distant events for our track team. Our training schedule required us to run 20 miles a week. I would add an additional 20 miles on top of that. The idea was to prepare me to long distance events. One day I managed to pull a growing muscle. There was a week or so before the next track meet, and I was the only student at our school prepared for those distances, so I needed to be completely recovered or we would forfeit those races. One of the coaches was trained in sports medicine, and he offered to do his best to help me recover as quickly as possible. He was in his late thirties or so, and he was a muscular man with a hairy body. He was not the type of person to have been a distance runner in his youth. He was more like a football lineman type. He was not the kind of person I would befriend, but he was an attractive man. He was known to work medicals repairing the members of the football team. He had worked on both boys and girls team members often in public or semi-public spaces, like the locker room. He started working on my leg outside next to the track, but he asked me to follow him to the training room in the locker room. In the training room there were normally plenty of other people soaking in the whirlpools and receiving other aide from less qualified coaches. I didn't like being in the training room with the football players, because they frightened me. They were bigger and rowdy guy, where I was a slender average sized guy. When confronted by bullies my impulse was to run. He sensed my anxiety and offered to take me into his office. The coach told me to take off my shorts and hop up on the steel table and started massaging my leg. He put my shorts under my head as a makeshift pillow. Then he put some sort of oil on the palm of his hand and rubbed his hands together before working on my thigh. I was only a 14-year-old freshman and only about half as tall as the football players, but I was a horny youngster, so basically I had no restraint for that kind of manipulation of my leg so close to my crotch. It was embarrassing for me to spring a boner that stained at my jockstrap. He made a joking comment about it, something like "Who would have suspected that a youngster your size would have suck a formidable tool!" His comment embarrassed me even more. He told me, "It's normal for any male to get a hard-on! It just proves that you are a healthy boy!" I self cautiously adjusted my dick in my jock strap in an effort to make it lay down flat against my body. He worked on my leg with thumbs and fingers. It felt like he was rubbing on a knot in my growing muscle. I felt better when he finished. He said, "You should return every day after school until the track meet!" He helped me off of the table, so that I could test the leg. I went to my locker and got dressed without comment. I was struggling with my feelings. The next day after school I made my way to the training room. He told me to take off my pants and hop up on the table. This time I was in my boxer shorts and this time when I sprang my boner it protruded through the fly. It was hard and stayed hard. He made a comment about it but nothing suggestive though, only reassuring me that I was a normal boy. That night when I was in bed I jerked off into a towel while thinking about his touch. The third time he started my treatment at the appointed hour, but this time he asked me if I would be more comfortable without my boxers on. I was embarrassed of course, but he kept assuring me that it was no big deal, especially among athletes. I have to admit that I was a horny kid, and I did love attention from men, even if I didn't quite know what I really wanted yet. I went ahead and did as he requested and removed my shorts. He had never had an opportunity to see me in the showers because I never showered at school after practice, so this was the first time he ever saw me completely naked, and hard for that matter. He did the massage as normal except telling me things like, "you're very well developed down there. You're bigger than most boys I've seen. I'm really glad you feel comfortable being naked in my presence...You're a good boy!" It wasn't until the fifth treatment that anything sexual happened. Once I was naked he started asking me about being hard, and if I was comfortable. He asked me if I knew 'how to take care of it.' I reluctantly confessed that I did, as embarrassed as ever. I was already naked and on the table. He told me, "I will be okay with it if you want to jerk off while I massage your leg!" I was reluctant to do anything for a few minutes, maybe even longer, but at some point my cock won me over and I started to play with myself. He said, "If you're going to do it, you should do it properly. Really go for it!" So I jerked off and between the week long buildup and his hands on my leg I lasted maybe a minute. He continued talking the whole time saying things like, "You're completely normal! You're not the only boy who needs to masturbate...all boys do the same thing at home...all good boys play with themselves!" I shot several thick ropes of cum onto my chest as he complimented me. The day of the race I was in good shape. I ran the race, and it didn't matter because the other school didn't enter anyone to run that distance, so I was running alone against the clock. There was no pressure on me, none but my own will to do my best. After that day I found ways to talk to the coach on my own. When he felt comfortable he would take me to the office or the training room when it was unoccupied. Later even the nearby park once a month or so. I repeatedly faked injury to give him an excuse to spend time with me. Sometimes he would massage me, other times I'd just pull out my cock and jerkoff for him. At some point he pretended to evaluate my cock and balls. He would do things like hefting the weight of my ball and cock, seeing how my foreskin slid back and forth. He would proclaim that he was making sure that I was growing properly. He would play with me a bit, but would always want me to jerkoff myself, while he watched. He'd talk and tell me comforting things about how jerking off was normal and boys my age needed to it, and I was a good kid. He told me that I should be comfortable with my body and a lot of other things. If I was lying on my back I would squirt cum all the way up to my chest and occasionally to my face. The coach would rub the cum into my skin. If I came on the floor or table, he'd give me tissues to clean it up. Sometimes I was fully naked and other times I had my cock out. The thing was I could see that he was hard, but never saw his cock. He had touched me everywhere by the time the school year ended. He also played a big part of my jerkoff fantasies. I expected him to be at school at school the next semester, but he wasn't. I asked my cross country coach about him, and was told that he took a coaching job at another school. I felt awkward asking for more information, so I left it alone. I never heard anything about there being a scandal. I certainly hadn't told anyone, and he told me that I was the only boy he had played with. (I never really believed him). Before the end of the school year our cross-country coach got permission from the school board and each parent to take the team up to the Mammoth Mountain Ski Resort for high altitude training for most of the summer. We got special rates for the use of a resorts cabins and meeting hall. It was a daunting prospect to be running mountain trails all summer, but it was also exciting to think that the eight of us were going to be away from home all summer. We took a school bus up highway 395 past Bishop, Crawley Lake and turned onto Highway 203 up to Mammoth. Being a ski resort community means that the summer months the place is not used very much. There are some cabins used by the owners as a quiet retreat during the summer. Some hikers use the area as a base, but the wildest use is a group of bicyclist's that bring their mountain bikes up there and take the ski lifts to the tops of the mountain and then race down the ski trails. If they take a spill helmets, knee and elbow pads do little to protect the rider. The gravely paths make brakes almost useless. Seeing these guys coming to the infirmary all scrapped up dripping blood everywhere was enough to turn me off to that kind of thrill ride. After we paired up for room assignments and dropped our gear we gathered in the hall where we were shown what we had to look forward to for the next couple of months. There was a large map of the surrounding mountains. The coach used a red marker to trace a trail making a loop around the mountains. The route was a 30 mile loop when you factor in that every thousand feet gain in elevation is equal to another mile. We were given a camel water pack with storage space that we packed in tape, mole skin, hydrogen peroxide and other first aide essentials, a wind breaker extra socks and a lunch. Each of us carried a radio so that we could communicate with the base in case of an emergency. The added weight added to the stress factor of the training. We got up early every morning had a breakfast that would stick with us. Put on our running gear sling our camels on our backs and headed north on a trail away from the ski slopes. We ran the ridges in the designated loop. The first day was a killer. It was growing dark by the time we came straggling back to the base. All we wanted to do was eat, shower and hit the sack. A lot of us were woken up with charley horses. We learned quickly that after the run we needed to stay on our feet and walk until our legs relaxed. The third day was the worst, my muscles felt like they were rubber, and it was all I could do to get out of bed. The pace was even slower for several hours, but soon my muscles felt better. I ate my lunch on the run. When I got back to the base I showered, put on fresh clothes and walked around the village before dinner. Most of the stores were closed for the summer season. While on my walk I came upon our coach coming out of the local grocery store. I offered to help him carry the grocery's he had bought. While we were walking back to the hall he confided in me that I was a natural distance runner. With a lot of work I could be a good at it. The idea of being able to compete in marathons with the best excited me. Each day after that I did my best to reduce my times. By the end of summer I was back at the base hours before the best of the other runners dragged in. I added sprints up the dry ski slopes to increase my leg strength. When we returned home I set records during the cross country season, and the coach helped me enter marathon races. Not having recorded times I was back on the pack where there was a lot of jostling going on. I stayed with the pack until mile twenty. That is when runners hit the wall as it is called, from that point on runners stay in it on guts alone. Being stubborn I was not about to give up. I finished my first race in the top twenty. That gave me some respect among runners. Distance runners are slow developers, the best hit their stride in their thirties. No one expects 15-year-old to be comparative that young. My coach was right there encouraging me on. He made sure I had plenty of light weight track shoes, and my diet was designed to maximize my stamina. I practically lived with him. Any blister on my feet or chafing between my legs was of immediate concern. Like my earlier days when the football trainer administered to my pulled muscle, I sprang a boner. My coach told me that some people think that having sex weakens an athlete. Boxers traditionally are isolated from women for months before big matches, but that is not true. Sex doesn't have any lasting effect on physical performance. If you have a desire to have sex by all means go ahead and enjoy yourself! I took that as permission to take out my cock and masturbate. The coach was taken aback for a moment before he brushed my hand away and took hold of my cock and started stroking it. He bent over me and took my cock into his mouth and sucked me until I gave him a taste of my cum. I reached for the front of his pants and fumbled with the opening, until he used his own hands to unfasten his pants, and pulled out his own circumcised cock. As I lay there on the table with him right beside me I leaned over and took his cock into my mouth and sucked him while he still held my cock. I soon got to taste his cum for the first time. My training schedule included blowjobs after showers from then on. I heard about anal sex and asked my coach about what it was like. To demonstrate to me what it was like by bending over the training table with his pants down and spread the cheeks of his ass. He told me to go ahead and stick my cock in his asshole. It felt wonderful to have his sphincter grip my cock while I fucked him. When I came it was the best feeling I had ever had. Wondering what it would feel like to be fuck I bent over the table in all of my naked glory. Coach used a slippery lotion to lubricate his cock and my asshole. He told me it would hurt the first few times, so do your best to relax. When the head of his cock started spreading my sphincter it involuntarily puckered and it hurt like hell. I moaned in pain and the coach slapped my ass, and told me, "Relax or it will hurt more!" The shock of him spanking my butt startled me, and my sphincter must have relaxed. His cock slid in to the hilt. When my sphincter tried to pucker it hurt. I did my best to relax it, while he fucked me. When he squirted his cum into my ass he slowly pulled out, and my asshole remained open. Cum ran down my legs. He told me not to try and squeeze my ass closed. He assured me that it would close eventually. I was sore for a couple of days. When I got over the ache I felt like something was missing. I actually asked Coach to fuck me again. We were fucking each other daily from them on. I became aware that a lot of other distant runners were into gay sex. One day while I was training with another runner he stopped in the woods to take a leak. I stopped with him and watched him take out his cock from under the leg of his shorts and held it while pissing on a tree trunk. When he finished he stood there milking it. When he saw the way I was looking at it he pulled the skin back and pointed the head at me, "Would you like to taste it?" I knelt in front of him and held onto his hips while I swallowed his cock. He fucked my mouth until he came. After I finished emptying his balls he offered to blow me, so I pulled my cock out of the leg of my shorts while he knelt before me. I held his head while fucking his mouth. Later after we finished logging twenty miles we made use of the training room to fuck each other. He introduced me to some other gay runners. I became a very popular boy among the older runners. I was able to travel all over the world to compete in marathons and enjoy sex with men everywhere. If you enjoyed the story and have a story you want me to write about your introduction to the world of male sexuality, please send your outline to pomowolf74@yahoo.com