Date: Mon, 7 Aug 2017 17:33:53 -0600
From: Rocky Hawkins <justwriting@soniq.org>
Subject: Straighten Him Out, Coach!

Author's Note:

This story is told as a fantasy, and I won't tell you that there is any
truth to it. But, as narrator and protagonist, I am not really that
creative. So, you can decide if I made it up or not...

I love email and feedback, so let me know if you like this one!

DISCLAIMER:

The following content may contain detailed descriptions of sexual
interactions between a minor and adult. If the laws in your place of
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do not continue. If this type of content offends you, do not continue.

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========================================================

"I just don't know what to do with him anymore, Coach Thomas," she wailed,
sniffling into a satin handkerchief, it's edges finely embroidered. "Dade
just won't listen to me! I try and I punish, but he's out all hours, and he
runs around with those... those... 'people'. I simply can't have it! Can
you IMAGINE what the bridge ladies think? His clothes, his language, that
long hair.. I simply can't! Can you help me?"

Mrs. Murphy had been in my office before. Just last month, in fact. She
came her last time, crying then too. Her son, Dade, had just turned 15, and
thought he knew it all. Running around town, drinking with the '55ers (it's
a rumor them boys do more than just fish down at the watering hole, if you
get me), and just generally being disrespectful. She wet her face so much,
I had to close the shades on all three sides of the office - no need for
the teens to see a grown woman in pain.

"Now, Mrs. Murphy," I started.

"Miss. Poor Roger, rest his soul, isn't with us." she lamented. She was
truly a woman of the time, and with the money she had, it showed. Perfect
posture, great form, hell - even I'd do her if I had the chance. Not the
way I swing, but still. She's the type of money that is perfect in public,
but will do the dirty shit in the dark, you get me?

I nodded, "Now, ya see, that's the problem right there! Your boy ain't got
no guidence from a masculine figure."

She looked up at me, a hopeful look in her eye. "Yes, Coach, that's why
I've come back! You see, with my... source of income, I can't go on with
just any ol' man who comes along. The board won't have it. So, a man in our
life isn't really... feasible right now. But I know he needs it. Mothers
just don't have the same heavy hand and training to turn a boy into a man."

"What you hopin' for, ma'am?" I asked. I had leaned back in my office chair
- an old rocker made of oak. It had a well worn leather cushion that fit me
like a baseball mit. Many a night, I leaned back in this chair, my legs
propped on the desk, relaxing with a smoke and a nip of brandy from my
flask. You see, I was in charge of all the football, track and field, and
baseball practices, and I had to make sure every young man worked hard,
sweat hard, then washed up proper. And none of that funny business those
youngsters do either! Not on my watch.

But, with a nip of hooch and a wide open windows to showers, lockers and
the equipment lock-up, I didn't miss anything. Boys Snapping towels,
changing, showering - even the occasional hard-ons. Not that I didn't get
them myself, of course. But at my age, they usually only happened when I
needed them to.

I thought about this as she rambled on. 'Blah blah, my kid this'. I knew
where she was going with this, and my mind started to race. I thought about
Dade. He was a smart kid, so I wondered what happened. Last time
Mrs. Murphy was here, we reviewed his record. Almost all 'A's in class,
very little tardiness, and he even ran for class president in jr. high. And
he was a looker. The girls seemed to like him, with his sandy blonde hair,
way too long and wavy.  In gym class, I'd caught a glimpse of him in the
shower - He was average in height for the boys his age, and I couldn't
complain about his frame. Just a touch of baby fat around the face and
tummy. Though, it seemed he had a pretty naturally lean build, road. Good
posture, and a tight bubble on the backside. He was uncut too, a decision
only a strong willed father could make.

Perhaps that was the problem? Not just a man in his life, but a STRONG man.

She was still talking when my daze snapped back in. "Ma'am. Ma'am. MISS
MURPHY."

My commanding tone usually carried a bit of weight. She stopped talking and
blinked at me.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I gotta ask you. How ya'll punishin' this boy when
he does this shi-stuff? I mean to say, how did uh, Mr. Murphy, handle this
boy?" I leaned forward and folded my hands on the desk. I knew what she
needed, and I knew what had to be done. I just needed HER to tell me.

She looked at her feet, then back at the baseball trophies lining the edge
of the old silver filing cabinet. She couldn't meet my eye, but answered,
"Well, Mr.-Coach- may I call you Sam? Well, Sam, my Roger was a good man,
you have to know that. He was a strong, patient man. He would never, uhm,
but sometimes when Dade got in a fit, well, my Roger was-"

I stopped her again, putting my hand up with a gentle nod. "I'm sure he
only had a strong hand when he needed to be. And now, without a strong
hand, your son, well- he don't know how to behave, is that right?"

She began to tear up a bit again, and slowly nodded.

I had never had a boy of my own. Women and I never got on long enough for
that to happen. But I do know how to be a coach. I know how to teach
respect. And I know what this boy needed.

I sighed, "Ma'am. drop him off at my house Saturday at 2pm. I'll take him
to school Monday morning."

She shook a little and blinked. At first, I don't think she understood, but
then, it clicked. Her face lifted, and she stood up, her posture returning
to that of a lady.

"Sir, you have no idea what this means to me. I just want a respectful
son," she smiled and reached to shake my hand. "You will be repaid for
this, of course."

I nodded. "If it works you, you can give me what you think is fair."

It was Friday night when Ms. Murphy stopped by my office. I walked her to
her car, then to my own. I had less than 24 hours to figure out how to
straighten this boy out.

An episode of Gunsmoke, one more I Love Lucy, and a TV dinner with some
brandy, and I was out like a light.

---

When the doorbell rang, I had already been up for a few hours. A light
breakfast of 3 eggs, bacon, sausage, hash, and toast with black coffee got
me energized, and I knew today would be a yard work kind of day. Perfect
work for a strapping young 15 year old.

I opened the door to a frazzled Ms. Murphy and a leather-jacket wearing,
long haired, smelly boy, clearly angry for being brought here.

When his eyes met mine, a small glint of fear flashed, but just as quick,
the rough tough-guy came back. He chuckled, flipping his hair. "Aw, hell
Ma! Coach Thomas? What'd you bring me HERE for?"

I didn't let her answer, but instead grabbed the young boy by the
jacket. He was shorter than me, about 5'9" to my 6'1". The yank from my
grasp caught him off guard and he tripped over my stoop. Good thing I
worked out myself, because his 140 lb body was easy to support with my
arms.

Without a word, I let go of his jacket, and instead grabbed his shirt. With
the other hand, I yanked the jack back from him, peeling it off his body
like a banana. I handed it to his mother, commanding, "Ms. Murphy. He is
not under my care. Sell or burn that jacket. That's a man's jacket, and
this is nothing but a boy."

He began to protest, reaching for the jacket, but my grip lifted him to his
tip-toes, putting him face to face with me.

"NO." I said, harsh. "Until further notice, you are nothing. I own
you. Your mother is SICK of your shit, and I will make sure you grow up
right. Now, get inside and wait there until I come in. GO."

With a shove, he was in the house, and I turned to his mother. "He's be
fine. I'll teach him a few hard lessons, and he' ll understand that he's
too big for his britches. I'll call you Monday morning."

She thanked me profusely and then, it was just me, and Dade.

He stood in my living room, eyeing up the place. I lives a humble, single
life. I had little furniture, no more than I needed, and I never really
entertained. My bed was large, for when I had callers, but I didn't
entertain that much, either. I walked him into the kitchen, poured him a
water, and leaned back against the Fridgidaire.

He stared at the glass, his arms folded, mumbling. "I can't fuckin' believe
this shi-"

"HEY!" I bellowed, startling him. "You are in MY house. You shut that foul
mouth right now."

He scowled at me, making a V line to the door. I knew I was going to have
to break this pony first.

I charged at him, my hands hard on his shoulders, and slammed him against
the wall.

"You little shit. I'm gonna tell you how this will work. You're mine. Momma
ain't here to coddle you, and daddy's dead. That means you are my punching
bag until Monday. Now, we can make this easy or hard, but either way, by
Monday, you're either going to be one HELL of a good kid, or... There's a
military school down the road with your name on it."

I pulled away from him, and he yanked back, the tough guy still
strong. Ignoring my warning, he spoke anyway.

"Look man, I'm good in school. I do my job. So I party a bit. Guys do it. I
ain't hurtin' nobody, and I ain't got no chicks preggo, so-"

I slapped him. Right in the mouth. Open hand. It shut him up. I let him
redden and reach for his face before I spoke.

"No." I commanded. "No speaking unless I tell you. You will do as I say."

With that, I took his shirt and ripped. It tore from his neck to his
stomach, and exposed his chest. No hair there really, but his fair skin
didn't seem like it needed any. He smelled like he had just been running -
probably fear kicking in. Good.

I pointed to my yard, and all the gear I had pulled out. "We're gonna work
out some of that shitty atitude of yours. Drink that water, and let's go."

He didn't reply, but his movements were deliberate and slow. He was testing
me, but he was complying. I will let him win this one. He drank some water,
and the rest of the day we worked in silence. He knew what to do, it was
obvious. Pick weeds. Move rocks. Tidy up.

By 6, we had both worked up a sweat, and I had also taken my shirt
off. Unlike Dade, I was hairy. My 50 year-old body was still pretty tight,
but I sure did show signs of a hard life. My own chest and stomach were
tight, using the gym at work and doing all my own handy work at home. My
legs, pretty strong as well, with a nice size 11 shoe to go with it.

I called it a night, and walked him into the slop area of the
workroom. Without a word, I stipped down, naked, and flicked on the icy
water. It felt good to cool down, and Dade noticed - in fact, he was
staring. He wasn't shy either- his clothes piled onto mine, and moved next
to me. I have to be honest, I'd never been this close to one of the boys
while they showered, and it was getting a rise out of me. Peeking down, I
thought he was getting a bit of wood himself. Maybe this would turn out to
be more than just a lesson in respect?

I turned away from him and grabbed a towel to hide my 7" from him. I pulled
another towel from the shelf for him, and took his clothes to the laundry
chute. As I walked into the kitchen from the workroom, I called back,
"Dinner in 15. You can have your clothes back when you've earned them."

We ate in silence. He was mad that I made him work, and probably even more
so that I took his clothes. I didn't want him to bolt out of here, not
until I had straightened him out! When dinner was finished, we both stood,
and I pushed him to the sink. "Ahh, fuck. Dishes too? Haven't I done
enough? God, what, you gonna make me suck your dick too while you're at
it?"

My face went red as he said that, and my mind flashed to a fantasy. I
haven't had any head in a while. It would FEEL good, wouldn't it?

He scoffed and turned on the sink water, filling up the basin. I hadn't
reacted to his comment, and realized he not only spoke out of turn, he
still hadn't learned respect.

My hand grabbed at the back of his neck, and before he realized what had
happened, I had him spun around and pushing down to his knees.

He fought this and began to shout, cursing about my mother and faggots. My
hand pulled back and a strong smack hit his cheek hard.

"You didn't learn a fucking thing today. So, like you said, the lessons get
harder." My hand held him by the hair, and I wondered why such a masculine
looking teenager would want to hanve such girlish locks. It was sexy
though, and I told him so. "I bet the boys at the watering hole sure love
all this hair to pull on when they fuck you, don't they?"

His face turned beet red; he was eye-level with the towel around my waist,
and my own 7" uncut cock was pushing at the thread. I pulled the towel off,
one hand still on the back of Dade's neck.

I repeated the command. "Suck. Show me what you and the boys do."

He tightened his lips and closed his eyes, tears rolling down. Through
gritted teeth, he managed, "I don't do that to them..."

I stepped forward, my musky sack now at his chin. "You can't tell me all
tose 55'ers you hang out with don't take a piece of you when they want
it. You're way to young to be friends with them for anything else."

"I ain't givin' them no head, coach. Not them, no way. I ain't done that
since my da-" he clamed shut.

Now, I got it. His Daddy! He was getting lessons from his Dad, just like
his Momma said. No wonder he's ramblin around!

I pulled back a bit, and loosened my grip on him, but held him in
place. "Come on boy. Respect me. Just like you did for your Daddy. Suck
it. Now." I pushed my dick at his mouth, holding his chin and his head in
place, but he fought. I kept trying, and he pushed me away.

"You ain't my Daddy!" he shouted. Well, for that, he was right, but I was
too horny now.

I let go of the boy, pushing him to the floor completely, and he stayed
there, red cheeked, teary-eyed, and mouth locked shut. I was going to teach
this boy.

I grabbed my vaseline from the workroom and came back to the kitchen. He
was still sitting there, eyes closed. He began talking again, how I'm a
sick old man; that I could never be his daddy. I just smirked. "I can't be
your Daddy, boy, but I can teach you like one. Just like my Daddy did."

The warmth of my dick made the vasaline nice and slick, and I wiped my
hands off on my towel. Since I knew I was strong enough to over power him,
it didn't take much to get him where I wanted.

With a pull of that long hair, I stood him up. He pried at my arm to let go
of his hair, and while he was focused on that, I was able to pull him over
to the kitchen table. I slammed his pelvis hard against the edge, causing
his body to naturally curl over the table, and his chest landed hard on the
top. he gasped from the blow, and I leaned my weight into him, holding him
in place.

I had let of his hair long enough to grab his arms, pulling them together
behind him. He was sure looking around now, and his eyes were wide. I held
him there, watching him fight my strong hands holding his whole body, arms
and all, in place. And he fought. For over 5 minutes in fact.

He fought, then he yelled. Then, he got tired, and pleaded. "Please,
Coach. Don't... I promise... I'll be better. You're too big.. I.. ain't
never had nothing that big... Please."

I didn't let up. "You see Dade, that's the problem. Today, I gave you
chances to respect me. I gave you chances to show your apologies. What did
you do? You called me a faggot, and scoffed at my hospitality. That's not
how respect works."

I pushed a bit harder, and I could hear him wince and groan. "And see, I
was a kid just like you; hard work, a good meal, and a nice shower usually
kicked me back into gear. My daddy did that for us, and we turned out
great. But, you ain't got your daddy anymore, and your Mom needed my
help. And just like back then, when I got out of line, I had to be
corrected."

"I'll be good, Coach, honest i'll be-"

"Now, still talking, I see. Ain't learned nothing."

I twisted my body from him, but didn't let go of his arms. His face and
chest were now flat on the table, his energy to lift it off spent. I got
behind this boy and leaned into him. My lips touched his ear, my chest on
his back, and my dick, now hardening again, resting nicely against the
crack of his toned butt. I whispered to him, "This is the lesson. It's
gonna hurt. If you don't learn from this, I will do it again. And
Again. Every weekend. Now, it's best if you relax. I think I know what your
Daddy did to make you right, and he taught you. You need this, just like he
did before, don't you?"

I pulled back up, standing behind him. A single arm was all I needed now to
hold him in place; his own arms limp against his side. "Don't you, Dade?" I
commanded.

A single dollop of spit slipped from my lips as I dropped it on his tight
little crack. He flinched, the cool spit touching his skin. I smirked,
knowing that he was going to take it.  I rubbed a finger on the edge of his
hole the spit lining up to in, and felt the roughness of my own skin
against his. "What do you say, son?"

I used my hands to pull his cheeks apart, and spit twice at his hole. Each
time, he flinched, winced, and murmored something. I didn't care. I was
hard, and he was mine. "Sir....please..." he whispered.

My dick was the perfect height, and I aimed it at his hole. He was
slippery, and I knew I had to get in him. He was going to be too tight and
take too long to loosen up the easy way. WIth my dick hard against him, I
pushed my weight against him and popped in.

He screamed, and then caught his own breath and went silent. Immediately,
his hole clamped down on my dick harder than anything I've ever felt. His
hands, once at his side, were now reaching first at the slippery formica
table to pull away, then back to push at me. he hadn't breathed yet, so I
stayed motionless; the weight of my body against him, the full 7" of my
cock in his hole held him in place, and he gasped. His next breath was a
scream; actually, more of a pleading. Get out of me, please, he said.

"It's the only way you'll learn respect, Dade." his wails of pain
continued, and his tears were soon to follow. It reminded me of my first
time, when I was just about his age. My first time was just with spit and a
fence rail to hold me. It hurt more than I could dream at first, but I
figured it out, and the next few times I knew how to relax.

"I need you to relax, Dade. You're too tight and I can't move." It was a
lie; I have enough lube on me to start pumping. But with him this tight,
and that damned screaming, I won't get a nut.

I leaned back over, and stroked his hair. "You are a smart, sexy boy,
Dade. I know it hurts. It is the only way to teach you. Don't worry, it
will hurt less if you relax. We are going to do this again and again unless
you learn some respect. This is all on you. If you don't relax, I can't
stop it from hurting."

I heard him sob a bit, but then, he.. nodded. I felt him breathe heavy a
few times, and then, he relaxed. Not a lot, but I knew I had him. "Daddy
wasn't this big...coach."

I pulled back up, and my cock pulled out a little bit. I slid in all the
way, then back and forth. His cheeks were still really tight, so I took one
in each hand and pulled them apart. I could see my own dick slide in and
out of him, inch by inch. He was bleeding a little, but I could tell he
would be fine.

My own hormones kicked into overdrive, and I knew I had to pound this
hole. I started pumping faster and harder, the table banging against the
wall as my thursts pushed this thin tight 15 year old into it. I am sure he
will have hip bruises when I was done, but I didn't care. I think I even
heard him moan a bit. The kid had been fucked before, and he was enjoying
it!

It was all I needed. I didn't want to force the kid, but my lust took over
completely, and my balls started to tighten. With each thrust, I forced my
voice to
speak. "You. Will. Learn. Res. Pect. Or. This. Will. Happen. Every.....Day!!!"

I came, hard, and deep, in this virgin boy's hole. I didn't listen to him,
even when he arched up against my chest. I didn't hear anything when the
gobs of cum splashed on the floor. I only felt the pure extasy that can
come from an amazing fuck, and his tight warm hole around me.

When I collapsed on top of him, my beads of sweat in my chest hair and
forehead dripped onto his back. His eyes were clamped shut, and he wasn't
moving, but I could feel his heartbeat thumping against my chest.

With a quick pull, my cock was out of this tight hole. He had left me with
some cleanup, but it was worth it. I went back to the workshop shower and
rinsed off.

Back in the kitchen, Dade was still on his stomach, but he had moved his
hands to his face. I could tell he had been crying, but he was tear-free
when I threw my towel at him.

"If you need the lavatory, it's down the hall. Shower up too, we'll be
doing this again soon."

I watched him limp from side to side down the hall. He was old enough, I
know I didn't cause any damage; I'm not super thick. But he was walking
funny, for sure. Must've been a while since he got something this big.

I called out to him, "This is the lesson. If you respect me, I will respect
your body. If you don't respect me, then I use your body like a rag
doll. Respect earns respect."

I shook my head when I heard the shower run, and went to move the kitchen
table back to the middle of the room. We had slammed it so hard, it scraped
about 3 feet. At the corner, my toe slipped on something.

"I'll be damned," I muttered, pulling the goo up to my nose. "The little
shit came!"

He came back to the table, not saying a word. I asked him, "Honesty
time. Your Daddy do that to you? Or any them 55'ers?"

He nodded, but didn't look up. After a moment, he spoke. "Daddy would teach
me like that anytime I was bad, so, you know, I wasn't bad. I don't like it
until the end, but the beginning ain't worth it."

So, the boy wasn't a homo, he just couldn't help but cum from a dick in his
prostate. Good, this will be a lesson, and not just sex.

He slept in my bed that night. In the morning, without a word, he made a
breakfast. While it was a start to the respect I had commanded, it was only
a gesture. I watched him present breakfast, and without a word, he knelt
down to my dick. "If I suck it, do you have to fuck me?"

After he couldn't get the hang of blocking his teeth, I told him to get the
vasaline. He nodded, and I took him to my room for round two. He was not
really into it, but I'll tell you this: on his back, with me balls deep
inside him, he couldn't hide his cum shot. We both came 3 times that day,
and on Monday morning, he thanked me. Respectfully.

"Mr. Thomas," his words were slow and quiet as I parked near the back lot
of the school. "I hope you'll tell my Ma that you taught me right, and
like, well, that I understand things now. My Daddy was a son'bitch, but you
and him sure know how to convince a guy how to steer the right direction. I
don't want no more lessons, not like that - so I'll be sure to do right."

I smiled. The boy finally understood. Men need to teach men how to be. Gay
or not, you have to take them down a peg or two. From my experience,
nothing does that better than a hard dick and a humbling (and humiliating)
fuck.

After Monday came and went, I never needed to talk to the boy again. He
finished out the year, and I would get progress reports from the teachers
and his housekeeper. His mom, even after his session with me, decided that
he was still too much trouble for a 'proper lady' to handle on her own -
and he was sent to a private boarding school for his senior year. He
married a young lady from the next town over, and I didn't hear anything
more after that.

Thankfully, I still had three windows, and several boys who were not afraid
to show off.


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