Date: Fri, 16 Feb 2018 18:48:50 +0100 (CET)
From: MuDPhuD <coybum@tutanota.com>
Subject: Travel Basketball Coach-2

Disclaimer: The author does not condone any of the acts in this tale. This
story was not written to advocate sexual activity with minors. Frank
H. Netter extensively mapped the human anatomy through cadavers but he was
not a necrophiliac. Support free speech and stop censorship or die in a
fascist world.

This is FICTION for ADULTS only. Do NOT read this if you are under 18, if
you are not an adult according to the laws of your country, OR if you are
easily offended. This story contains sexually explicit material suitable
for adults.

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Chapter 2

The luxurious Lexus stopped in an empty lot just across an empty train
station. Greg grabbed Pete's arm, dragging him out of the car and into a
dark side alley. A nervous middle-aged man leaned against an upright crate,
smoking a cigarette and checking his watch. Putting his cigarette out, he
nodded at Greg and pulled out a small roll of Benjamins. Greg didn't make
small talk, he was as deliberate as he was impatient.

"You have 30-minutes," Greg said, pressing a button on his watch as he
tossed Pete towards the man and walked back to wait in his Lexus. Pete
glared as his coach walked off before the strange man tapped his shoulders
and introduced himself.

"Uh--I'm Grant."

"Petey," the boy replied as he watched the man in shift uncomfortably.

"I-uh-get over here," Grant said, pulling the boy roughly into a hidden
alcove but still within the Lexus' sight line. "Sorry, this-this-this is my
first time with-with...." the man trailed off. Pete knew what he was: slut,
whore, plaything. Without warning, the man took the boy into his arms and
kissed the boy. Pete snapped back, surprised at the strong, unwashed taste
from the man's mouth. Grant's grip on the boy tightened as he embraced the
unwilling boy, slipping his hands down the boy's track suit and up his
shirt.

After molesting the boy for minutes, the man stood up and held the boy
firmly by his lean muscled arm. With his left hand, he unzipped and pulled
his stubby cock free. Pete looked back at the silver Lexus with it's dark
tinted window. He knew Coach Greg was watching.

"Come on, just suck it." Pete closed his eyes, mouth open, and stepped
forward. A long soft moan escaped from Grant as he held Pete's head still
as the boy's tongue swirled and sucked. "Goooood God that feels amazing."

Pete held the base with his left had, pulling back and gagging when the man
pulled him closes, forcing more of the cock in his mouth. He'd had larger
cocks in his mouth, but he still had a strong gag reflex. Grant didn't even
stop or notice the boy's struggles. Bucking his hips and thrusting his
endowment as far into the boy's oral cavity as he could. The broad head
tickled the back of the boy's throat on each in-thrust. Pete's left wrist
hammered against his chin as the man's signaled release.

SPLOOGE! The first blast caught the boy by surprised and went down his
trachea.

"UGH!" Coughed Pete breaking the man's grip just long enough to have the
member slip out of his lips, the boy shut his eyes and mouth tight as the
man spilled the rest of his seed on the boy's face. Coming down from the
bliss, Grant tucked himself away and straightened his pants. Pete's face
still radiated an afterglow, still flustered that Coach Greg was still
watching. Wordlessly, the man walked-jogged away, not even bothering to
look back at the boy. Pete was still on his knees, wiping goo from his chin
and left cheek. He kept looking for a tissue or rag to wipe his mouth. He
didn't want to use his team jersey like some cum rag. When he couldn't find
one, he resigned himself to swallowing the cooling man's cum.

"Fuck, boy, forgot just how good you are," Coach Greg stated from the
shadows, looking down at his watch. "Guy had 15 minutes to spare." Greg
slammed Pete into the cement, the boy's head hit the dirty floor with a
dull 'thud'. Pete's head swam and spun.

"Aa--ouch!" the boy weakly groaned, barely conscious enough to struggle as
his shorts were jerked down to expose his bare ass. Greg jammed a finger
into Pete. Like some reflex, Pete moaned and seized the invading digit.

"You've not been fucked in ages, huh?" Greg's maliciously smirked. Pete
twisted and groaned, his faculties still heavily compromised. The boy
started struggling against his pimp and suddenly, SLAP! A heavy open hand
smacked the back of Pete's head. "Good news for me then, huh?" Pete
remained silent, knowing that whether or not he spoke, he'd still be
subjected to a variety of other demeaning acts. The boy understood long ago
that he could escape the physical pain and emotional degradation if he just
thought about something else. However, no matter how many cocks Pete's
taken, he never grew accustomed to the rough invasions he took, especially
from Coach Greg.

***

"Dad, please, this is just too weird with you..." Jake said as Greg set up
a tripod. Jake leaned against a wall as Pete bobbed quickly on his teen
cock.

"Shut up, Jake," The man snapped as he pulled Pete's shorts down. The blond
middle schooler very nearly pulled off sucking Jake's cock, but the dull
ache on his skull, the throbbing welts, and bruises from Greg's "foreplay"
suggested that might be a bad idea. Instead, the boy refocused his fear
into pleasing his teammate, hoping that perhaps if he did well enough he'd
be spared further pain. That hope dwindled when he felt Greg's
Vaseline-slicked finger re-enter him.

"P-P-Please...no," Pete gasped as his ass clamped on the invading
digit. "It's still sore!" the Pete whined, but the man slapped him again
with his free hand. The boy went back to his fellatio, tears streaming down
his cheeks.

"Dad...come on," Jake called, trying to sit up. "You shouldn't, it's really
hurting him."

"Yeah, I can see that," the Coach muttered, pulling the boy's welted
buttocks apart as he slid in a second finger , eliciting a muffled
scream. Pete was quaking in fear at this point. "He can take it though,"
Greg growled, adding a third finger into the boy. "Are you gonna listen to
me when I say 'set the pick'?" Pete was shaking uncontrollably as his best
friend's cock throbbed in his throat.

Too afraid to pull off the Jake's cock, the blond boy shook his head, which
just made Coach chuckle. "Fuck, look at the little cock-hungry whore." Greg
looked straight into the camera and smiled, "You like getting his ass
fucked, huh?"

Pete wanted to correct the Coach's deliberate misinterpretation, but Greg
just smacked his head further into Jake's cock. Jake winced when his best
friend's chin banged into his balls. He wisely elected not to remain silent
as at that same moment his father was raising the Pete's ass into the air
and had started slipping his gargantuan cock inside. His father took what
he wanted and was never gentle.

Pete's eyes bulged as he found himself screaming, choking, and crying while
holding on Jake's thin hips. He felt out-of-balance as Greg's endowment
stretched the boy's aching sphincter. Breathless and sore, Pete fought a
losing battle as he felt his coach's hairy bush crinkle against his
hairless ass. In his agony, Jake's cock slipped and a slimy strand of spit
and precum linked the preteens.

"Yeah..." Greg moaned, flexing his cock inside the boy. "Gonna have to
charge double for this ass."

Jake's few wispy hairs scratched Pete's sweaty red forehead. Coach Greg
mercifully granted Pete a few moments to adjust before he began pulling
out. When Pete took his mouth off Jake's cock, Greg yanked the boy by his
blond hair and reminded him of his oral duty. Pete sobbed as he swallowed
Jake again. This time, Pete treated Jake's rod like a pacifier, sucking
quietly with his eyes closed, waiting and praying for Coach to finish
quickly.

Unfortunately, Pete knew Coach Greg like to make it last as long and
painful as he can. Tonight, Coach started slow, directing Pete to look at
the camera. Pete felt completely overwhelmed at the prospect of sucking a
dick, taking a dick, and looking at the camera simultaneously.

The basement air mattress squeaked and shook as Coach Greg started long
hard strokes. Pete felt like his coach's cock was going to pop out his
throat. As the pounding sped up, Pete was sandwiched uncomfortably between
coach and teammate.

"Coach..." Pete cried as Jake's cock smacked his forehead, "Please..."
Twice his son's cock slipped from slut's mouth and twice he smacked the
boy's occipital. Even without Pete's warm mouth sucking him, Jake was
ashamed to find himself aroused in watching his own father fuck his
helpless best friend.

Trying to give Pete some relief, Jake played with himself and craned his
neck to watch his father's 10-inch cock drill into the blond angel. Jake
looked down at Pete and saw nothing but desperation.

"Ugh...please...oowww...please...aahhh...please..." Pete began chanting in
perfect rhythm with the man's assault. Pete looked so pathetic as Jake
forcefully shoved his cock back to silence Pete's insistent pleas. Jake was
surprised when Pete diligently bobbed and sucked. He rationalized that
maybe Pete had been asking for it and that he liked rough fucks.

Trapped on both ends, Pete surrendered himself, angry at Jake's betray and
cowardice.

"He's a good little slut, ain't he, son?" Greg smiled at his eldest
son. Jake nodded, tightening his hold on Pete's blond hair as he began
thrusting in sync with his father's.

"Oh fuck," Pete sucked and licked the sensitive dick head. "Dad...I-I'm
gonna," Jake panted, unable to stave off his orgasm. Pete increased his
suction, pushing Jake over the edge and filling his mouth with sweet,
watery teen seed. Without a second thought, Pete sucked it all.

Coach Greg took another fifteen minutes before he pulled out of Pete's
large gaping red hole and spewed his adult load everywhere. The first spurt
hit Jake's chest, the subsequent three hit Pete's messy blond hair, and the
rest pooled and collected at the raw hole desperately trying to close.

-----
I enjoy receiving feedback on my stories. My other stories include

http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/sleep-away-camp/

http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/travel-baskeball-coach