Humiliating the Swim Coach Cunctator m/M, Reluctant, Humil.
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. None of the characters or events herein are based on real people, either living or dead. It was produced for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or if reading stories of a sexual nature upsets you, do not read any further! By reading further, you certify that you have accessed/requested access to this material wilfully, and that you are an adult 21 years of age or older. You also certify that to your knowledge, this material does not offend the standards in your area, nor is it in violation of any of local, state, or federal law.
I stole most of this from an old friend, but she told me she didn't mind at all.
Coach Paul Willis should have been a happy man. After all, he had placed well in two state championship swim meets when in college. He had earned an MA in Sports Administration. He had almost eleven years of practical experience teaching middle school swimming. He held a current certificate in CPR and lifesaving techniques. He knew the middle school swimming rules backwards and forwards. He was thoroughly conversant with all the DIAA regulations. He was an expert at First Aid. Two of his students had even won state medals. Yes, Coach Willis should have been a happy man. And he had been until Jared came into his life last fall. Paul Willis knew Jared was going to be trouble from the first day the fifteen year old signed up to be on the swim team. The boy was attractive enough; perhaps too attractive. And he was certainly sure of himself, with that smart-ass sneer on his face. But Jared's attitude wasn't the main problem for Coach Willis. The main problem was that Coach Willis had begun to have feelings toward Jared right from the first day, and those feelings were totally inappropriate. Coach Willis had not wanted to stare at Jared, all wet and naked in the locker room shower after that first practice. But something about the boy's body pulled the coach's eyes to him like a magnet. Jared was tall for his age, and slender, and his cock was long and prominent. As he stared at Jared's cock, Coach Willis found himself saying to himself the word "kissable." Paul Willis had never in all his years thought of a cock as "kissable", but he could not get the word out of his brain when he looked at Jared's cock. Jared had caught Coach Willis staring at him. But instead of being embarrassed that his coach was looking at his cock, Jared just smirked up knowingly at Paul. And when their eyes met, Coach Willis felt a hot surge of erotic sensation, and he knew that he wanted to feel more of the same. He felt deeply humiliated that one of his students had such a salacious effect on him, but he couldn't break eye contact until he was sure that Jared knew exactly the effect he was having on his coach. Jared certainly knew it too, and over the next four months, he never let an opportunity go by to set the hook a little deeper. So that by the return of the boys after Christmas break, Coach Willis just had to find out just how "kissable" Jared's cock would be no matter the cost. At the regional swim meet held in late January, Coach Willis watched excitedly from the side of the pool as his fifteen- year- old star swimmer Jared dove into the pool and began to sprint for the other end chased by six other middle school boys, each in his own competition lane. As he observed the lithe, athletic young boy racing the length of the Olympic size pool, Paul could sense the incipient return of that nagging itch: that wonderful, horrible nagging itch deep inside his most intimate parts. As he surrendered once again to the wonderful, horrible compulsion to stare at Jared's young male body and to imagine the unspeakable things he imagined, part of Paul longed for the nagging itch to continue to grow inside him, and part of him was so desperately ashamed of the commanding hold it had over him. Although Paul was mortified to admit it to himself, the truth of the matter was that he derived quite an explicit thrill each time he watched that captivating young teen boy glide so sensuously through the water. And even though he was Jared's swim coach, Paul 's thrill had absolutely nothing to do with the excitement of the competition. As humiliating as it was for him, Paul could do nothing but acknowledge that the thrill he felt was an erotic thrill: an erotic nagging itch deep inside him: a dark, sinful thrill, a thrill he both loved and despised. Paul didn't claim to understand the causality of his sinful nagging itch. Actually, he really didn't want to know the true cause. All he did know was that there was just something fascinatingly overpowering and commanding about the way Jared appeared to him in his tight, wet, revealing swimsuit: displaying his fresh, young, willowy body, teasing him, tormenting him, implicitly demanding that he fall to his knees and worship him; his hard, "kissable" cock pressing against his swimsuit, flashes of a smooth bubble bottom that seduced him into wanting to get down on his knees and lick it with his hungry tongue, long sexy young legs scissoring in the water that drew his salacious attention to the tantalizing spot where they joined. There was just something about the sight of this young swimmer boy so wanton and perverse which burrowed very deep inside Paul 's head and made him so, so hot. Jared's fresh, smooth body evoked such lewd, submissive images: such erotic, subservient possibilities; such humiliating scenarios. A part of Paul truly didn't want to feel that way at all: hated the nagging itch for its power over him. He knew in his heart of hearts how wrong it was to look at Jared with such debased thoughts whirling around in him mind. He fought as hard as he could against the nagging itch every time it began to overcome him. He recognized that it was sick and immoral and simply horrible to think that way about this young teenage boy. But, time after time, when Jared swam, Paul became literally consumed by those depraved longings for the nagging itch and how sinfully good it felt to him to be in its grip. Then, despite himself, he surrendered totally, overcame both his conscience and his fear. He knew, if given half a chance, he would do exactly what his star swimmer asked. He would do anything. Now, Paul shamefacedly felt his cock begin to become erect, as if it were early morning and he had to pee really badly while he watched Jared sprint his final lap down the pool to score yet another victory in the regional swim meet. And, with Jared's sudden triumph overcoming everything else in him mind, Paul became himself again once more, a swimming coach with a winning swimmer, and the burning itch that had started his cock to rise receded. Then, for a time, Paul was no longer the shameful, subservient, fantasy-ridden, soul, powerless to resist the nagging itch. He was nothing more or less than Jared's swim coach, clapping and cheering. His sheer happiness at his star swimmer's performance allowed Paul to conquer the wanton sway of the nagging itch, and he cheered and clapped as hard as he could as Jared climbed lithely out of the pool and into the towel-wrapped embrace of his teammates. Paul reflected upon how truly proud he now was of Jared and all the hard work and time and effort he had put in for the past semester getting to this moment. It was true that from the beginning, the young boy had displayed an enormous natural talent that made him simply unbeatable in the freestyle in his age group and gender. Paul observed proudly now completely unfettered from the nagging itch he had become as the other boys from the team crowded around his star swimmer, screaming, patting his bottom, congratulating him on yet another victory. And this one was the final heat of the day: the championship. Jared had won the top medal for his region, and was a shoe in to win the state championship to be held in three weeks, barring accident or injury. Wow. Imagine. His star swimmer: boys' state middle school freestyle swimming champion after only one semester of competition. It was almost too good to be true.
Paul was so happy for Jared's success. He found himself out of the clutches of the nagging itch completely. Paul was suddenly totally free and at peace. This was bliss. And him star swimmer's win had made his bliss possible; had driven the nagging itch away. But then, out of the tail of his eye, he caught sight of Jared's face. There was that knowing, condescending smirk when Jared knew that coach Willis was looking at him. Jared's tight, wet swimsuit revealed the outline of his "kissable" cock and the nagging itch made itself known to Paul Willis once again. Flashes of erotic images suddenly flooded wildly through Paul's numbed mind: unbelievable images of him, kneeling naked by the side of the pool with his head bowed and his eyes lowered like some kind of perverted supplicant while the cruel young teen Jared giggled lewdly at his plight and forced him to do all sorts of unthinkable, sick things to his adolescent body while his young teammates stood around and watched in torrid fascination. Paul didn't want to give in. He wanted to keep Jared's victory central in him mind rather than these sordid images that gnawed at him. Paul struggled within himself to rid his mind of these wanton fantasies, but the nagging itch would have none of it. Deeper and deeper he sank into the pit. His breathing became shallow and a film of tiny droplets of perspiration broke the surface of his skin. Only the earsplitting din of an announcement about the next swim meet blearing out of the field house's mind-piercing PA system jarred Paul back to his conscious self. For a while once more, the nagging itch subsided within Paul, and he became again for a moment what he so desperately wanted to remain; the proud coach of a successful star swimmer. Coach Willis decided that if he showered with his swim team that day, that Jared would surely do something to embarrass and humiliate him even more. So he decided not to shower but just to wait for the boys to get dressed. While he waited anxiously for Jared and his teammates to shower and change into street clothes, Paul literally forced himself to stop thinking about the sleek, sexy swimmer that was Jared and to make amiable and vapid small talk with some of the parents of the other boys on the team. Truth to tell, Paul was more than a little bit shy and reserved in his manner, but his star swimmer's competitive success and the good- natured well wishing and congratulations from the parents drew him out of himself and away from his sordid obsession: at lease during those intervals when the nagging itch wasn't strong in him. In his more introspective moments, Paul admitted to himself that he had been living his life vicariously through Jared for more than four months and that the boy's swimming triumphs gave him an opportunity to bask in his star swimmer's reflected success. And Paul knew deep down that the reason for this was very simple. Paul believed deep down that, no matter what he had accomplished in his life that he had achieved no real successes of his own to bask in. Aside from his time training young swimmers, Paul had withdrawn from everything except Jared's competitions. Paul's need to feel worthwhile through the dazzling success of Jared's swimming career was almost as overpowering as the depraved nagging itch he felt whenever he ogled the young teen Jared and fantasized about the humiliating tricks the boy would force him to perform for his own cruel amusement. The irony was that it was Jared and Jared's swimming successes that kept Paul from giving in to the nagging itch altogether. Jared's coach desperately clung to his star swimmer's athletic victories as if they were some kind of magic talisman that would shield him from the possibility of actually doing all those horrid, sick things he fantasized about when the nagging itch had its hold over him. Despite those knowing smirks, and despite all the little cruel humiliations and hungers he had had to endure at Jared's hands over the past four months, Paul believed that Jared was pure, really. And Jared's purity restrained Paul from doing those humiliating, submissive things that he wanted to do. Because of his desperate need to feel some true worth in his drab, purposeless life, and because of his need to believe in Jared and what he was doing with his swimming competition, which was so central to that need, Paul could almost be accused of doting on Jared. He knew for a certainty that Jared's swimming success was keeping him grounded in reality and away from capitulating to the nagging itch. Jared's abounding mastery at swim meets meant that his retiring coach had the much needed opportunity to be lauded as the successful coach of the champion. Like most humans, Paul needed desperately to feel successful, even if his success was confined to being merely the coach of the winner. The only problem was that every time Paul watched Jared at another swim meet he provided himself with yet another opportunity for the nagging itch to have it's depraved way with him. While Jared's string of swimming victories helped Paul tremendously in his fight against the nagging itch, the constant exposure to the scantily clad, alluring young boy merely inflamed the nagging itch to reassert itself constantly. So, by this point, Paul was almost beside himself with nervous energy and frustration as a result of the erotic tensions this situation produced. But soon, the swimming season would be over, and Paul would no longer be exposed to the temptations that the nagging itch hungered for. He looked forward to that more than he knew. After about half an hour Paul realized that Jared was certainly taking his time getting ready to go home. He was just about to go over to the boys' changing room when he spied his star swimmer. Jared practically glowed with a radiant pink color to his cheeks and Paul could clearly see that his breath was coming in quick little pants. Paul wondered to himself how Jared had sustained the euphoria of winning the regional championship for over half an hour, but lost the thought when his star swimmer ran up to him and gave him a big bear hug. Paul, though pleased, was a little taken aback at Jared's demonstration of public affection. Why his star swimmer had even kissed him on the mouth surreptitiously and slyly before pulling away and giggling knowingly. "Coach, Coach. Did you see me swim," Jared gushed with happy enthusiasm. "Of course I saw you swim, Jared. I couldn't take my eyes off you." Jared giggled and smirked. "I know, Coach. I was good. I was the best. Wasn't I, Coach? I sure smoked that Cory Daniels from Ridgevale Middle. He's such a bee-atch, and I wanted to beat him most of all."
Paul was somewhat stunned by Jared's rather vulgar choice of words, but decided not to correct him in front of his teammates who was standing there hanging on every word. Paul shifted his attention away from Jared long enough to collect his thoughts. Paul began to feel the nagging itch literally gnawing at him vitals. For Paul, Jared was the very kind of boy who inflamed him nagging itch almost to total distraction. Paul found his gaze being luridly drawn to a lewd appraisal of the boy's young body. Jared's eyes were deep blue and surprisingly compelling. In fact, when Paul tried to re-focus he found it difficult to tear his own gaze away from him. As Paul tried his best to break eye contact, a struggling part of his mind wondered as it had been wondering for four months why it was that THIS boy's slender young body was suddenly so much more fascinating to him than any other's? Paul understood clearly that there was something more than mildly perverse about his driving compulsion to ogle this young teen boy. He hoped against hope that Jared would not take advantage of his unwholesome interest. Paul was certain by the supercilious expression on the boy's face that he could sense the needy hunger in the coach's eyes. And why couldn't he succeed in breaking eye contact with the adolescent boy no matter how hard he tried? Suddenly, Paul felt Jared turn his smirking eyes away. "Coach, can you take me back by school with you. I need to get my gym clothes out of my locker so I can wash them." Before he could think, Paul said, "sure, Jared. I'd be glad to." On the surface, it was a perfectly innocent question. But there was an edge to Jared's tone of voice that Paul couldn't quite rationalize away. For his part, Paul found himself curiously unwilling to think up a reason to refuse Jared's request for a ride back to school. After all, Paul told himself, taking Jared with him would give him more time to spend with the boy. As they walked away from poolside, Paul found that he was getting hungry for the chance to be spending time alone with Jared. He wondered if Jared would take advantage of their time alone together in the car to torment his coach some more. He half hoped so. Jared smiled superciliously up at Paul. Then he suddenly looked distracted as if he might be changing his mind about wanting to ride back to school with his coach.
Paul looked at Jared with a perplexed expression on his face, hoping that Jared had not changed his mind at the last minute. Seeing his coach's distress, Jared smiled an enigmatic little smile. Paul suddenly heard a little suppressed giggle escape from Jared's lips. "Taking me back to school, Coach would be veeeerrrrry helpful." That statement brought another little giggle from Jared. Paul was becoming increasingly confused. But now he could see no excuse not to take Jared back to school, where he wanted to retrieve him dirty gym clothes to wash for the coming week. And they would be together alone in Coach Willis' car. "OK, Jared. Let's go," Paul said with as much good cheer as he could muster as they arrived at the field house main exit doors. The Coach and Jared departed the field house and found Paul 's car in the parking lot. Jared immediately headed for the passenger side door and climbed in. Paul got behind the wheel and closed his door and buckled his seatbelt. Jared did likewise. Paul pulled out of the parking lot onto the main road, and concentrated on his driving; allowing himself the occasional sideways glance over at his young passenger. There was just something so hot about Jared's young body that demanded Paul's attention. But Jared's coach stopped allowing himself even this surreptitious little treat when he got on the Interstate highway that would take them back to school. That's why he was so startled to feel the totally unexpected touch of Jared's left hand on him bare right knee right below the leg hole of his gym shorts. Paul almost swerved the car off the Interstate as he anxiously darted his eyes away from the road long enough to look in Jared's direction. He saw that the boy was looking straight ahead as if nothing at all was going on. Paul engaged the cruise control and tried furtively to move his leg away from Jared's grasp. But the fifteen-year- old boy sitting next to him only squeezed his knee all the harder so that he couldn't get away. The more Paul struggled to move his knee, the harder Jared squeezed it. As this silent and surreptitious battle for possession of Paul 's knee progressed, Paul began to feel a totally unwanted jerking in his cock. His balls were aching and commencing to itch and burn like fire ants were chewing on his scrotum. The nagging itch was back inside him full force. It was nearly overpowering enough to affect his driving. What Jared was doing to him was turning Paul on so hard. Just the feel of the boy's hand on his knee was driving the older man to distraction. The lurid fantasy world he had been flirting with for four months was suddenly turning real. Jared was holding onto Paul's leg in such a manner that the older man couldn't get away from him. Paul 's awareness that Jared had total physical control of his leg and wouldn't let go melded with the anxiety of fearing that Jared might just laugh at his hunger. The tension that resulted made Paul itch and burn even more than before. This was just too unreal. Were Paul 's sinful fantasies finally going to come true? There was absolute silence in the car as it sped down the Interstate toward school. Paul just didn't know what to do except pray that Jared wouldn't let go of his leg and laugh at him. Nothing remotely like this had ever happened to Paul before in real life. Why in the world had Jared placed his hand on Paul 's bare knee like that in the first place? And why wouldn't he allow the older man to move his leg away? And why did Jared's lewd touch make Paul 's cock and balls itch and burn so? Paul attempted one last time stealthily to pull his leg away from Jared's grasp as he turned his head slightly to look at the teenager sitting beside him. In response, Jared gave Paul 's knee a painful squeeze. "No," Jared said forcefully right out loud, and just as suddenly, Paul stopped struggling. The sound of the teenage boy's stern command compelled Paul simply to freeze in his seat just like a field mouse discovered by a hawk. When Paul froze, Jared took full advantage and immediately began to slide his exploring hand well up the older man's leg along his naked inner thigh. There was certainly no mistaking Jared's ultimate goal and his determination to reach it. Paul began to shiver as the fear of being caught by some onlooker who could see down into his car battled against an all-consuming compulsion to just allow Jared to have his lewd way with him. The nagging itch was stronger than ever now. Paul was also beginning to feel the first distinct pangs of pure, unadulterated panic when his Interstate exit interchange suddenly loomed up ahead. Like an automaton, he veered and steered the car somehow onto the off ramp. And, as he did, Jared stealthily removed his hand from the older man's thigh and placed it silently in his own lap as if absolutely nothing had happened. Paul breathed a hugh sigh, which was part relief at being freed from Jared's groping hand and part disappointment at being stopped just before the young boy would have succeeded in touching his most intimate places. Paul allowed his fearful glance once more to fall upon his young passenger. Jared was still looking straight ahead. But this time, he had the merest Cheshire Cat smile on his lips. As he turned onto the surface street that went by the middle school, Paul had begun to wonder if he had only imagined Jared's hand on his leg and the boy's forceful command that he stop struggling. Was that possible? But the supercilious smirk on Jared's face stopped him wondering. It had happened. It really had. But what did it all mean. Soon, a visibly shaken Paul pulled into the drive of the middle school. The parking lot was absolutely empty, which was unusual, even for a Saturday. It seemd that even the security and the custodial staffs weren't around at all that day. Paul wondered about that as he parked over next to the gym. "OK Jared. Let's, go get your dirty clothes and then I'll take you home so you can get started on your washing." Paul, who was still trying his best to sort out recent events, sing- songed his request with an air of false cheerfulness. Blinding fear rose up in him and he suddenly wanted to get Jared out of his car and out of his life as soon as possible. He didn't really want his sick fantasy world turning real after all. He had too much at stake. Paul didn't know what Jared's sick little game was, but he knew that the boy genuinely scared him. Truth to tell, Jared scared him and he excited him all at the same time. But the fear was momentarily overwhelming the excitement. Jared opened his door but did not get out of the car. Before Paul could make a comment, Jared spoke up. "Coach, why don't you let me in the gym and come with me to the locker room?" Paul gulped. Something deep inside told him that he really, really didn't want to be alone with Jared, even for the few minutes it would take to get his dirty clothes out of the locker room. "I just want to get my clothes and go home," said Jared. Jared would surely wonder if his coach refused to take this quite reasonable step of going into the gym with him. And Paul didn't want Jared to have any cause to wonder one bit about anything. And besides, Jared had once again stealthily placed his hand lightly on Paul 's knee and had given it a little encouraging squeeze. Paul felt his cock twitch at the touch of this fifteen year old's fingertips. The nagging itch began to grow once more. What might happen once they were alone together inside the gym with the door closed behind them? "OK," Paul said resignedly as he opened his car door. He waited patiently for Jared to remove his hand, and Jared finally obliged him with an accompanying giggle. Jared was already standing by the outer door to the gym by the time Paul got to him. The older man hung back, as if Jared were some sort of evil spirit whom he didn't want to get too close to. Jared turned toward Paul and smirked a knowing little smirk as his coach opened the heavy metal plated outer door. He pushed the door open, went inside, and beckoned for Paul to go in after him, and Paul reluctantly followed his fifteen-year-old guide inside into the cavernous gym, shadow illuminated by the high windows set above the retracted bleachers. As soon as the outer door slammed shut behind them, Jared reached out and took both of Paul's hand in his. Paul let out a little moan of surprise and tried to pull his hands back. But Jared held on tightly. "Come on. Don't be so shy around me, Paul, " Jared said with a wicked giggle in his voice. Paul felt himself weaken at the sound of the boy's taunting words. He felt an added thrill knowing that the fifteen- year-olod was calling him by his first name. And he was letting Jared do it, too, without any argument. "You really don't want to be shy around me, Paul. Do you?" Paul immediately stood stark still at the sound of the boy's command. There was a persuasive and compelling tone to Jared's voice that stopped Paul from trying to pull away. Paul gazed fearfully at the young boy, who was smiling up ever so sweetly. "You weren't a bit shy when you were looking me over at the pool today, Paul. Were you?"
Paul tried to clear him head. "I wasn't looking at you like that, Jared," Paul said with the merest trace of a whimper in his tone. "Oh YES you were, Paul. You couldn't take your eyes off my cock, and my butt, and my legs. Go on. Admit it. I don't mind." Paul shook him head 'no' even as he knew deep inside that Jared's accusation about him was absolutely true. "I didn't want to look at you like that," Paul whined. He just wanted to get away from Jared as soon as he could. Or did he? Jared let go of Paul 's left hand, held his right hand tightly in his left, and with his right he rounded on the older man and slapped his face just as hard as he could. Paul cried out from the sudden, unexpected pain and tried to pull away. But Jared's grip was very strong. "Don't EVER lie to me, Paul," Jared shouted right into the older man's face. "You WERE ogling me today at the pool just like the dirty little submissive faggot coach slut we both know you are. Weren't you? You were perving my body when you thought I wouldn't notice. You just couldn't keep your faggy eyes off me: off my yummy cock, off my balls, off my bottom, off my legs. Could you, slut?" Paul began to flush with embarrassment. He HAD been eyeing the young boy in a very salacious way. And Jared knew it. And now Jared had him all confused and stirred up. Paul was suddenly in touch with the fact that Jared's harsh actions and accusing words were making his insides quiver with alternating waves of cold fear and fevered excitement. For the second time, Paul denied what Jared obviously knew was true. "No, Jared. I wouldn't do something like that." Jared raised his hand as if to slap Paul once more. The older man cringed away from the expected blow. "Weren't you, Paul? I know your type. Oh yes I do. Do you think you're the first grown up coach slut to look at me like that? Do you think you're the first one I've dealt with? All us boys know how much you little coach faggy sluts like to look at us. We all know what is going through your slutty little faggy minds: what you want us to do to you; what you want us to make you do. We know how dirty you all are."
Paul lowered his head as Jared slowly put his hand down by his side. The young boy knew that he didn't have to slap the truth out of Paul any more. The older man was beginning to break. Jared smiled. "Now, weren't you perving me, Paul?" Paul began to shake all over. "I don't know, Jared. Honestly I don't." Jared solicitously patted the older man's cheek. "Poor Puppypoo Paul. You're just so out of touch with your true feelings. You poor little faggy slut. Poor little Coach Puppypoo. You're so confused. But I know what you want. You want to be Jared's good boy. Don't you?" Paul began to shiver as Jared reached out and began rubbing the older man's shoulder through his tight T-shirt: slowly, very slowly. Paul knew that his confusion and his shame at being confronted with the fact that he had ogled Jared at the pool were somehow exciting the young teenage boy standing in front of him in a way that he did not understand. That lack of comprehension made Paul shiver all the more. Paul tried as hard as he could to overcome his confusion, but Jared wasn't interested in allowing him time to sort it all out. "Admit it, Paul. You do like looking at me in my tight swimsuit that shows off my cock. You know you get yourself off on looking at my tuff young body and thinking all those really nasty thoughts you think: thoughts about what you want me to make you do to my tuff young body. But you know how dirty and wrong it is to think that way, and it scares you. It scares you so bad. And, in spite of the fact that it scares you, you still really yearn for me to make you do all of those sick things that you think about. You get yourself all soppy wet at the tip of your faggy little cock imagining the wicked little things that a nasty young boy like me could make you do. And you know deep down that there's something just so perverted about all that. And that is such a part of the turn on for you." Paul began to shake uncontrollably as he listened to Jared's words: words that described him perfectly. "I can see by the expression on your face, Paul my little coach slut, that you are beginning not to care at all about how perverted it all is. Are you, Paul? You just want to be Jared's good boy. That's all you want in this whole wide world. Now that I've told you that I know all about you. You know deep down that I can do any little thing I want to with you from now on. Don't you, slut? And you also know that by the time I get through with you, you just won't care at all any more about anything except doing exactly as I say. You won't care who knows about it. You won't care if it ruins you financially. You won't care if they take your job away from you because you're an unfit coach. You won't care about anything in this world but making me happy." Paul tried his best to stop shaking. But he just couldn't. The nagging itch held him firmly and irrevocably in it's clutches. He could hear Jared's heavy breathing, and when he looked into those bright, compelling blue eyes, he almost fainted dead away from a sudden overwhelming wave of purest fear. Paul knew with absolute certainty that what Jared was saying about him was totally true. He WAS having those kinds of perverted, sick thoughts. He had been having them steadily for four months now: ever since Jared had started swimming. He had had no hope that his perverted, sick thoughts would ever be realized. Not until today. Not until Jared told him so. And a growing part of him really didn't care anymore. The nagging itch demanded attention. It would not be denied. "I know all about you, Paul. You really want to just relax and let yourself give in. Don't you? You want a hot little boy just like me to control you: to guide you into all sorts of really bad little sex games. But you're still so scared to give in to your twisted little desires. Aren't you?" Paul was now almost out of control of his body, it was shaking so hard from fear. And something else as well was taking hold of his mind: something dark and powerful, something deep and demanding. "Don't worry, Paul. Don't worry about a thing. You're my little faggy Coach Puppypoo from now on. I'll be ever so glad to help you find that special place that you've been wanting: that place where you can get everything you need. That place where it's just you and me." Jared ran his fingers leisurely through Paul 's hair and slowly but inexorably pulled his head down until their noses almost touched. "I want you to tongue kiss me now, Coach Slut," Jared whispered into Paul 's ear. Paul tried feebly to pull his head away, but totally lost the battle to retain his thinking mind as Jared's eyes bored deeply into his psyche. "You know how much you want to tongue kiss me. Admit it to yourself, Paul. You want to be made to dirty kiss your star swimmer boy right on the mouth. You want to part your pouty coach lips and let me put my hot little tongue deep in your slutty mouth. You've just gotta have it, baby." Paul closed his eyes real tight, fought not to listen to Jared's mesmerizing words, and tried as hard as he could to pull his head away, but Jared's hold on him was much too strong by this time for him to resist. Jared pressed his young, tantalizing lips ever so lightly and teasingly against those of the older man and Paul moaned deep in his throat as his own now famished lips parted to receive the sinful kiss of this young teenage boy who was his star swimmer. Paul knew that this sort of horribly immoral behavior with Jared was so very wrong and would get him into a great deal of trouble if he were somehow caught kissing Jared in this lewd way. But the erotic feel of Jared's soft, wet tongue probing and exploring along his parted lips and then deep inside his mouth drove all such dreadful concerns away in a flash of erotic lust. When Paul whimpered for more and began to kiss back, Jared gently let go of the older man's head, but didn't stop kissing him: oh by no means, no. The now confident young teen boy allowed his young hands to rove and explore positively about Paul 's taut body: sliding over his T-shirt along his long arms and across his strong swimmers shoulders, slipping sensuously over his large pecs, squeezing, tweezing the older man's erect nipples, teasing. Then Jared's hand moved down to Paul's gym shorts and breathtakingly over his erect and oozing cock. Paul began to moan softly as Jared's torrid kiss and demanding touch drove his completely to distraction. His briefs were beginning to sop up the precum secretions of his ravenous cock. As for Jared, wantonly feeling up this older man who was his coach and demonstrating thereby his sexual dominance over him, aroused the fifteen year old boy beyond words. He could sense the familiar pleasurable burning growing deep within his own loins and he liked it that way just fine. Paul was just like all the other adult men Jared had seduced and tormented. Just exactly like them. Paul 's body began to slump toward the gym floor as his knees became weaker and weaker. After a time, Jared literally had to prop the panting, whimpering older man up against the bleachers. Paul was so out of control by then that he lost what last vestiges of restraint he still had retained. The sex-hungry man lewdly pressed the front of his gym shorts as tightly as he could against Jared's outthrust thigh and began the short, jabbing motions of his hips that most resembled a dog in heat trying his best to get off. Jared just stood there with a cruel smirk on his face and allowed Paul wantonly to hump his hip until he sensed that the older man was approaching an orgasm. At that point, the merciless boy pulled himself completely away from Paul's body. Paul, sex-crazed and thwarted at the time he most needed release, began to whine just like a rutting, frustrated doggie. But Jared was having none of Paul's demented desire to find relief from the nagging, burning itch. It was just too much fun for him to keep his new toy frustrated and aroused. "Please, Jared. Pleeeeeeaaaaassssseeeee." Paul didn't care one bit that he was humiliating and degrading himself by begging the young boy to help him please, to allow him to obtain blessed relief from the maddening, nagging itch. He didn't care that he was making a wanton spectacle of himself and that Jared was now laughing out loud at his plight. He didn't care about anything except making the nagging itch go away. Jared grew impatient. A couple stinging slaps broke Paul down completely and got his full attention. "Bad boy. Bad little faggy puppy. You only get off when I say, slut. And I don't want you to get off, yet. Now you better come along quietly, Coach Puppypoo. You don't want to keep me waiting too long to get my clothes." Paul didn't answer. No words would form in his brain, so fogged was it with lust and thwarted sex hunger for his new teen tormenter. He just bowed his head meekly and trudged silent behind his young master into the boy's changing room. He was terribly afraid of Jared, but Jared's control was getting stronger and stronger. Jared led the way through the boys' changing room toward the holding pen where they kept the dirty gym clothes in numbered, assigned metal baskets. He unlocked the wicket gate, stepped inside, reached up, and brought out his basket full of smelly gym clothes that he had exercised in only the day before. He re-locked the wicket gate and set the basket down on a convenient bench right in front of Paul . The older man began licking his lips in lurid expectation of what Jared might allow his to do. "Would Coach Puppypoo like to root around in Jared's dirty, smelly gym clothes?" Jared giggled out the taunting question. Paul felt his rock hard cock oozing soppy wet all over again at the wanton prospect of holding Jared's soiled gym suit in his hands, of pressing the young boy's sweaty and sex scent covered jock strap hard against his face, of inhaling his musk. He didn't have to think for a second about what he wanted. Yet some deep spark of self-preservation made his reluctant to admit what he wanted to Jared. Paul knew that once he confessed his sordid desires to this young boy, Jared would be able to use it against his to pull his even further into the pit. "Or would you rather just go back to the car?" Jared stood there, hands on his hips, demanding an answer. Paul felt himself falter in his resolve to fight the nagging itch. Jared's sweaty gym outfit got the better of him in the end, as he knew all along that it would. "Well, Coach Puppypoo. Do you want to play around in my smelly old gym clothes, or don't you?" Paul immediately began nodding his head 'yes' like some kind of demented bobblehead doll. "Yes, Jared. Coach Paulpuppypoo would love to root around in your dirty, smelly gym clothes." Jared giggled and smirked wickedly at his new plaything. "Well, I just bet you would, Coach Puppypoo. But don't you think you should trade me something nice for the privilege of playing in my smelly old clothes pile?" Paul wasn't at all sure what Jared meant. But he knew deep down that whatever it was, it would only force him further down the ladder toward total debasement. "What do you want to trade for," Paul asked barely above a whisper. Jared reached out his hand. "Take off your gym shorts and give me your briefs, Paul . I want to keep them as a little trophy of our new relationship. I'll add them to my growing collection of sticky coach briefs. Go on. Just take off that pair of gym shorts of yours, and take down your briefs, and then hand them to me just like a good little Coach slut boy." Paul sucked in his breath. This was so wrong, so sinful. He didn't want to humiliate himself any more than he already had in front of Jared by just meekly handing over his briefs. Jared moved toward the older man and placed his hand along the beltline of Paul's gym shorts. "Or maybe Coach Puppypoo wants me to take them off for him. Is that what Coach Puppypoo wants? Does Coach Puppypoo like having his dirty, wet briefs pulled down by a little middle school boy just like me?" Jared began sensuously rubbing the palm of his other hand up Paul's inner thigh through the leg hole of his gym shorts: higher and still higher up to and over his soppy briefs while he began to toy with the waistband of Paul's gym shorts with his other hand. Paul made little animal sounds deep in his throat as Jared slipped his finger under Paul 's briefs and felt the older man suck in his breath. Jared hummed quietly to himself as he allowed his finger teasingly to brush Paul's achingly hard cock, back and forth, back and forth, while Paul whimpered and made more little animal noises. Then Jared slowly retracted his hand and stood back as Paul whined and bucked his hips in a desperate pantomime of sexual intercourse. Jared's teasing, tormenting efforts were rewarded by a series of desperate little whimpers as Paul lewdly gyrated his hips in an unconscious sign that he craved Jared's hand and desperately wanted it back where it had been. "Bad boy. I've decided I don't want to take off your briefs, Coach Puppypoo. I want you to do it for me. I want to watch you do it. I want to see you slip them off your hips and down your legs like the slut you are. I want you to tease me with the sight of you doing it. I want to see the look on your face. You know what it will mean when you take off your own wet briefs and give them to me. Don't you, Paul?" Paul whined and slowly nodded his head. He knew all right. He knew that it would mean his complete surrender to Jared: his total submission to this young boy's erotic whims. And knowing this, Paul still did as he was bidden. e reached up and undid his gym shorts and let them fall to the floor. Then he placed his fingers tentatively inside the waistband of his sex sticky briefs and tugged them slowly down his well muscled thighs, over his knees, to his ankles. Then, he stepped out of them and meekly handed them over to Jared, who accepted his trophy with an all-knowing smirk on his face. Jared looked at Paul 's briefs, surveying them closely as if they were something quite special, which, of course they were. The young boy grinned as he noted that Paul 's name was printed in the waistband. "Do all your briefs have your name on them, Coach Puppypoo?" Jared purred as he held Paul 's briefs close to his nose and inhaled the older man's sex scent. Paul seeing the perverse use Jared was making of his briefs, hung his head. "Yes, Jared. I have them ordered special for me off the web, and I buy a new set from time to time when the old ones wear out." As he answered Jared's embarrassing question, Paul could feel his now hard and exposed cock secreting hot, sticky precum that began to teardrop against his belly. Paul licked his lips in anticipation of doing to Jared's own briefs just exactly what the young boy was now doing to his. "Maybe I'll make you order me some with my name in them. Anybody who looks closely at the order might wonder why " Paul Willis" is ordering briefs for "Jared Conrad." But it won't matter what other people think. Will it, slut?" Paul just nodded his head in agreement. He would do whatever Jared told him to do from now on. Paul could detect a musky, earthy scent as he stood there waiting permission to begin his foray into Jared's soiled gym clothes. He didn't know whether he smelled his own sexual excitement, or Jared's, or the residue of sex scent given off by all the boys who came in here to change after their hot, sweaty exercise. Paul didn't care at all just whose boy sex he smelled, he was way too intoxicated by it to care any more. Jared took the older man's briefs away from his nose and smiled sweetly. "If these briefs of yours are any indication, Coach Puppypoo, you're dripping like a faucet. You're such a pervy little faggy slut. Aren't you?" Paul could only nod his head in agreement once again. He raised his head enough to see the wicked smile on Jared's face, and he wanted to sink right through the floor. But when Jared stuffed his briefs in the pocket of his tight fitting jeans and then picked up the basket with all his sweaty gym clothes in it and held it up for him, Paul just couldn't resist taking the offered sign of his degradation from the giggling young boy. "Go ahead, Coach Puppypoo. Root around all you want to. Now that I have my nasty little trophy proving that you belong to me, you can have your fun, too. Why don't you show me what a nasty little pervert you really are; smelling little boys' dirty old jock straps. I bet you can't wait to get a whiff of my dirty briefs." Paul sheepishly placed the basket on the bench in front of him, fell to his knees, and immediately began digging around inside with both his hands. He knew exactly what he was looking for and he found them almost instantly: Jared's little boy cotton briefs. A little hysterical giggle escaped Paul 's parted lips as he raised the sweaty, smelly briefs to his face and inhaled deeply. He inhaled deeply again and again, drawing Jared's most intimate scents way into his nostrils. He could hear Jared's derisive laughter at his perverse antics from far away. Part of him began to cry softly to himself. But most of him just didn't care at all how ridiculous and humiliated he looked. For the first time in his entire life he was truly satisfying the horrid nagging itch deep inside him and it felt just like heaven; or was that hell he felt. Either way, Paul was too far gone to think about it one way or the other. Jared reached out his hand and tousled Paul 's hair. "You're such a little coach slut. I'm surprised you haven't been rooting around in my dirty clothes basket and smelling my jock strap already. I bet my briefs smell great. Don't they baby?" Paul didn't want to listen to that kind of talk coming from Jared. He just wanted to continue to root around in the boy's smelly gym clothes. Looking at Paul's single minded focus on his briefs, Jared just laughed and laughed at the older man. "You are all alike. Aren't you. All the horny, depraved coaches wanting to be bossed around by their star athletes. How they prance around their bedrooms, naked and needy. How they would willingly do the most depraved things their little boy masters could think up to make them do. How they would beg for their reward for being such obedient little coach sluts. How their little boy tormentors would love the feel of their worshipping hands, and their oh so willing tongues." Paul knew that he was now nothing but a ridiculous, degraded shell of his former self. If any of his colleagues could see his now, they just wouldn't believe it. Or if any of the parents of the boys Jared swam with could watch Jared put his coach through his paces, that would be the absolute end of him. Oh God. If they ever found out: if Jared ever told on him. But Jared's briefs smelled SO good. After a time, Jared called a halt to Paul 's degrading performance, and ordered the older man to put his dirty cotton briefs back into the pile of gym shorts and tops, and dirty socks. Paul was once again so close to finding the relief his body craved. But, despite the gnawing hunger in his loins that made him cry out in frustration, Paul still obeyed his new master, stopped sniffing Jared's briefs, and reluctantly did as he was told. He pulled his gym shorts up and buckled his belt. Then, he gathered up the pile of dirty clothes, and unceremoniously stuffed them back into the metal basket. Jared smiled to see just what kind of control over this man he possessed. "Now, Paul Puppypoo, lets go over to your house so I can wash all this yucky stuff. My mom's washing machine is broken, so we'll have to use yours." Taken aback by his new master's unexpected command, but unwilling to attempt to dissuade Jared from doing what he wanted to do, Paul merely nodded his head in meek agreement. After all, it would give them more time together: more time for Jared to molest him. And perhaps Paul 's nagging itch might be truly satisfied, finally. Jared might take pity on him if he was a very good boy. "Well, pick up the basket and carry it out to the car for me, slut," Jared said with his hands on his hips. Paul meekly picked up the basket and followed along behind his new young teen master as he stepped out of the boys' locker room and across the hardwood gym floor to the metal outer doors. Paul was nearly blinded by the late afternoon sun as they emerged from the gloomy gym. Paul was relieved beyond words when Jared just got into the passenger side of the car. Jared sat himself in the passenger seat once again and waited for Paul to climb behind the wheel. Jared sat back in his seat and allowed his hand to steal inside the leg opening of Paul 's gym shorts and caress his naked cock. Surprised by the feel of the boy's fingers on his cock, Paul almost lost control. But sudden, blinding fear of discovery by another driver made him settle back down while Jared's taunting fingers began sliding impishly up and down along his soppy shaft. "Let's go, I don't want to sit here all afternoon," came Jared's perturbed voice from the passenger seat. "OK," Paul 's voice faltered as he started the car and began the drive home. All along the route home, Jared's busy fingers slid around Paul 's most intimate places as the older man obediently raised his hips slightly off the seat to allow his teenage dom full access to whatever he wanted to play with. It was everything Paul could do to keep his mind on his driving as Jared molested his nether regions. And the nagging itch was completely in control of Paul now. Oh yes. By the time they got to his house, Paul was almost hysterical, spiraling in a maelstrom of fear and perverse excitement. He knew that Jared was sitting right beside him, and so he would have heard any sound his coach made. Paul 's lower lip was almost bitten through a couple times as Jared's exploring fingers found an especially sensitive spot. But somehow, Paul had made it home without crying out. Jared just laughed at him. The older man practically leapt out of the car as Jared giggled himself silly next to him. The coach and his boy master entered the house. Like some type of automaton, Paul led Jared to the utility room next to the kitchen. As if in a trance, Paul put detergent in the washer, set the temperature level and put Jared's soiled gym clothes inside to wash. Paul wished he didn't have to wash Jared's soiled briefs along with the rest. He desperately wanted to retrieve them and continue his degrading show for his young master in hopes that Jared would treat him to a nice little cum cum. But Jared only laughed at his plight. "Don't worry, Paul. I'm wearing another pair right now. You can have them all to yourself if you just kneel down and take them off me first. I'll just slip out of these jeans and you can slowly reveal that tasty young cock of mine that you find so kissable.' I'll bet you didn't know I knew all about your fantasies in that regard. Did you? I'll even let you lick it for me this time. I'm really looking forward to cumming in your mouth." Paul looked around as if in a daze. His fear of Jared was growing by the second. "But I don't want ...." Jared slapped Paul across his face. "But I want you to, Paul . And you better get down on your knees and take my briefs off right now. And I think I'll take a couple digitals of you kissing my kissable' cock to show off to my friends." Paul looked as if he might throw up. "Please don't do that, Jared. Please don't. I don't want anyone to know about us. I'd be too embarrassed. I'd die." Jared pulled out Paul 's briefs from his pocket and held them up for him to see. "I have your sticky old briefs right here, Paul slut. It wouldn't be any trouble at all for me to go back to school on Monday and show them to the whole swim team. Of course, after I did, they wouldn't have much respect for you any more. Would they?" Paul began to cry silently. "Please, Jared. I don't want them to know about that side of me. I'm their coach. They would just despise me if they knew about us." Jared smiled. "I suspect they would despise their coach if they found out what a slutty little subby faggy cunt you really were, perving me like that." Jared's words stung Paul as if he had been slapped. "Now, slut face. Do I take these coach briefs into school on Monday and fill the team in on all the sordid details, or do you do what I tell you to right this very minute with no more complaints?" Paul bowed his head. He knew he had no choice. He had known that since he had given Jared his briefs in the first place. He had been so desperate for Jared to bring him off that he would have promised anything for the privilege of being allowed to serve this fifteen year old hellion. Now he was paying for his indiscretion. And he would continue to pay for it. Of that he was certain. Paul reluctantly sank to his knees, slowly crawled to where Jared was standing, bare legs apart, and reached his trembling hands up the boy's silky smooth young legs until he felt the thin, cotton material. His heart jerked in his body and he let out a little, painful squeal. "Go on, slut. Take them off. I told you I'd let you lick my soppy cock for me. And then, if you really humiliate yourself, I'll even let you suck it till I cum inside your subby faggy mouth. You won't believe how good I taste. All my coaches say so." Jared giggles. As Paul began tugging down Jared's briefs, he heard the young boy begin to laugh at his once more. The laughter grew more raucous as Paul removed them altogether and pressed the boy's warm briefs to his lips and began licking the sodden front panel. Jared was right. Jared was right about everything. He did taste like heaven. Heaven on earth. It didn't matter any more how degraded Paul felt; how far down into the pit he had crawled. Jared had let his lick his briefs. Then Jared told him to kiss his "kissable" cock. For a long time Paul kissed the very tip of the boy's hard organ. Jared smiled down and ran his hands through Paul's hair, directing his movements. Demanding attention. Then Jared had let him suck and lick his boycock for a long time until Jared finally rewarded him with a nice mouthful of hot and tasty boycum. That was all that mattered to Paul. And, then Jared had bent over and told Paul that if he was a very good boy, Jared would let him lick something else ever so nice. He had promised. Paul closed his eyes and fell in free fall as Jared's fresh and earthy cum taste filled his mouth. Paul began wriggling on the floor like some demented eel, Jared's cum stained briefs jammed deep inside his mouth. He wouldn't let go of them. They were his last connection to what was left of his world. Jared began talking to Paul softly. "I could see how much you wanted to let yourself be controlled by a young boy. I could see it in your eyes every time you watched me in the shower, or at a swim meet. So I decided that it would really be fun to have my own coach as my newest little Puppypoo toy." Jared walked over to where his coach was writhing and moaning on the floor. Then he gently removed his briefs from Paul 's mouth. Paul opened his eyes and stared beseechingly into his star swimmer's smiling face. Jared couldn't really want him to do this last lewd thing. Could he? Then, Paul felt the nagging itch take complete charge of him once again, and he meekly leaned forward against Jared's outthrust bubble butt until his tongue was right where they both wanted it to be. Then he began to lick and thrust. Then Jared smiled his triumphant smile. "Would you like a treat, Coach? Would you like to keep your head between my creamy young butt cheeks and use that warm, wet coach tongue of yours on the hottest boy in ninth grade?" Paul moaned deep and his throat and nodded his head 'yes.' Oh God. Anything to make the nagging itch go away. Anything. "then lets go up to your bedroom after awhile where we can be much more comfortable. I think I'm going to like your bed, Coach. I think I'll sleep in it from now on whenever I come over. You can sleep on the floor right beside me. OK." Another moan. Another nod. After Paul had licked and thrust and tasted his new master for what seemed an eternity Jared finally admitted that he had had enough for a while. He helped his coach stand up. And very shortly after that, and after a lot of begging and pleading and promising to obey completely from now on, Jared allowed Paul to humiliate himself once again and satisfy his nagging, burning itch, finally. For a while at least.
This work is copyright (c) 2007 by Cunctator. You may download and retain a copy for your personal use as long as the author's byline and e-mail address and this paragraph remain on the copy. Please do not post this story to any web site without permission from the author. All other rights reserved. No alteration of the contents is permitted. Feedback is very welcome. Cunctator can be reached at cunctatorgold@yahoo.com