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Subject: Repost-My Gay TXT Collection - 801-0024.txt(1/1) 20000 bytes
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First of all...I didn't write any of these stories. My collection of stories come from places I've visited over the years.
I tried to sort out all the incomplete and straight stories. If a few got past me, my apologies.
Happy Reading!!!!
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=== This is a fictional presentation! === This is a fictional presentation! ===
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Elm Street
My family had just moved to Elm St. I don't know if it was the pressure of
moving, but my father was being more of a pain than usual, really bugging me
about getting all the stuff in my room unpacked. I began to stay away from
home more. I really liked my new high school, and even though I knew I knew I
liked guys and not girls, I had never told anybody, and that was the way I
wanted to keep it. A nice girl named Lisa lived next door, and I gave her a
ride to school every day, figuring it would be good for my image. But it was
rough staying in the closet with all those new hunky guys walking around.
And then there was Coach Schneider. He was a real mean son-of-a-bitch
ball-buster, and part of me really hated him for how he treated me and the
other kids. But there was something about him that turned me on in spite of
myself. He was all man, 6' 2", tanned, broad chest and shoulders, hairy arms,
short blonde crew cut, and always showed a big basket in his work-out sweats.
One day in Coach Schneider's gym class, we were playing softball. I was
playing first base, and a real hunk called Grady was caught in a rundown
between me and the guy playing second. He finally tried to slide to first,
and I tagged him out, enjoying the contact. Evidently, he didn't however, and
as I turned away from him he grabbed my gym shorts and pantsed me right in
front of the girls and everybody. It soon turned into a fight/wrestling match
right there on the baseball field, until Coach Schneider came over, broke it
up, and as punishment for fighting, made us "assume the position", which meant
we had to get into a push-up position and stay that way until he told us to.
It was way after gym class was over, and both Grady and me were really tired.
I said, "How much longer ya think he's gonna keep us out here?" Grady said, "It
could be all night. The guy gets his rocks off this way. Hangs around in the
queer S&M joint downtown. He likes pretty boys like you. . . " "Shut up, "
I said, playing the straight boy role. But inside, my gut tightened, thinking
about being tied up by this man. I didn't think I could do anything like that,
but I had fantasized about it a few times, and I realized it was always with a
man like the Coach, not the boys my age that I usually fantasize about. Coach
Schneider finally walked over and commanded, "Hit the showers, Dirtballs!"
I somehow was always managing to get in trouble with Coach Schneider. One
time, me and Grady were talking about him in the locker room, and the Coach
overheard me say that he "always had a stick up his ass". That got me doing
laps around the gym all afternoon, way after everybody had gone. Then Coach
Schneider let me hit the showers, and as I was showering by myself thinking
about him I got a hard-on, wondering if what Grady had said about him was true.
Still hard, I walked naked through the empty lockerroom to my locker. Coach
Schneider was standing by it when I got there. "You learn your lesson,
dirtball?" "Yessir, " I replied. As I said those words, a strange sneer
crossed his lips, and he looked down at my hard teenage cock. I thought
something was gonna happen, but he just turned and said "Good, " as he walked
into his office. I got dressed and left.
I don't know if it was my imagination or not but ever since then it seemed to
me that Coach Schneider was watching me very closely, was always right there to
ridicule me when I fucked up, riding me real hard. Even Grady noticed it,
mentioning to me one day in the lockerroom how Schneider must really hate me.
I said yeah, but inside I knew that it wasn't true. This man was paying
attention to me. Sure, he wasn't being sweet about it, but I began to realize
that the sweet approach might not be what was best for me. I knew I was gay,
and I was pretty sure that no one else knew. But I figured that maybe Coach
Schneider saw something in me and was trying to help by being hard on me. I
tried so hard to please him, but nothing was ever good enough. I wanted to
talk to him about it, but I was afraid of coming out to him, fearing being
wrong about him and humiliating myself. The more my father was an asshole at
home, the more I longed for the closer contact with Coach Schneider that always
seemed to be out of my reach. Finally one night, my father wrongly blamed me
for something, accusing me of plotting against him. I got real mad, yelling at
him, that he had no right to talk to me that way, and stormed out of the house,
slamming the door.
I walked around town alone for hours. I walked past Lisa's house. Everybody
thought that me and her were getting it on. I guess I wanted them to think
that. Thinking about the whole thing now made my stomach turn. I walked past
Grady's house. It was no mistake that my locker was across from his in gym.
His face was so handsome, and his dark tight muscular body was so beautifull.
I used to think that was what I wanted. But now picturing Grady naked didn't
even make me feel better. I knew what I needed, knew where I had to go, but I
was so scared. I could never go to a place like that. I walked around
aimlessly in the rain thinking about it, repeating over and over in my mind
what Grady had said about Coach Schneider, where he hung out. All of a sudden,
I realized that I was right in front of the place. The red electric sign
flashing the words "DONS PLACE" screamed like a siren in my head. The only
person I could think about, the only person who seemed to care, might be
inside. And if he was, I'd finally be able to tell him what I had to. It was
now or never. I pushed back the black leather curtain and walked in.
The Coach's Story...
It was just another boring tuesday night in Don's Place. It might have been
even quieter than usual, if that was possible, due to the rain that was coming
down heavily outside. I was surprised, therefore, to hear a commotion coming
from the area of the front door. It looked like some under-age kid was trying
to get in and from what I could hear, the bouncer/door man Jack wasn't buying
the kid's story about losing his ID. I got up and went over to get a better
look at the puppy. As soon as I got close enough to see his face, I realized
it was Jesse, the kid who was my third period project! I couldn't believe a kid
like that had the guts to come into a place like this. Just as Jack was about
to usher him out the door, I spoke up. "Hey Jack, it's OK. He's with me!"
Still grabbing Jesse by the collar, Jack said to me, "You sure?" "Oh yeah, " I
said, taking charge of Jesse, saying, "How ya doin', dirtball?" The kid didn't
say anything, and as I was pulling Jesse towards a quiet corner, Jack yelled
after us, "Just remember, he's YOUR responsibility! Don't go gettin' me in
trouble!"
He was a mess. He looked like he had been out walking around in the rain for
hours. Grabbing him by the collar with both hands, I yelled under my breath,
"What the FUCK do you think you're doin' in a place like this, dirtball?" He
just hung his head and looked at the floor. I grabbed his head and forced him
to look at me. "Well?" He looked right in my eyes, and almost cried as he
said, "I was looking for you, Sir. . . " Surprise! I guess I had been
getting through to him, after all. "Well, it looks like you found me, " I said
slowly. I paused, looking him over, deciding what I had to do. Continuing, I
said, "Are you ready to be responsible for the consequences of your actions?"
"Yes, Sir, " he barely whispered. "WHAT? I COULDN'T HEAR YOU!" I yelled out
loud. "YES SIR!" he yelled back. This was gonna be good. "Call me Coach,
dirtball, " I said as I practically lifted him up and dragged him outside to my
pickup truck. It was still lightly drizzling. I made him climb up into the
bed then I got into the cab and sped off, not telling him where I was taking
him.
As far as I was concerned, there was only one place that was appropriate to
begin his real training. I wondered what went through his mind as we turned
into the parking lot of the high school and then pulled around back to the
secluded courtyard of basketball courts which adjoined the gym. I pulled the
truck to a stop against the wall not far from the door, which I went over to
unlock. It had stopped raining, the bright moon illuminated the area brightly,
and all was still and very quiet.
I walked over a few feet away from the truck and gestured for him to get out
and come to me. "Take off your shoes and socks, " I commanded. He immediately
bent over to comply, and in a few seconds he was barefooted. I picked up his
shoes and socks and threw them into the truck. "Stand at attention and don't
move, " I said quietly. I paced around him a few times checking him out,
letting him sweat. Then, standing in front of him, I reached out and slowly
unbuttoned his shirt and removed it, throwing it into the truck as well. I
admired his lean, strong chest as I had done many times before in the
lockerroom. He was breathing very heavily. I briefly played with each of his
nipples, they got big and erect immediately. I wondered what else was getting
big, reaching down and giving his basket a long hard grope. He was definately
turned on. I quickly and savagely unbuckled his belt, opened his jeans and
pushed them to the ground, his tight cotton undershorts shining in the
moonlight, tented in front by his obvious excitement. "Give me those pants, "
I said, and he got out of them quickly and handed them to me. I took them over
to the truck, collected all his other clothes and locked them in the cab.
"This way, dirtball, " I said as I opened the door which led into the gym.
Once inside, I had him stand at attention while I looked him over again, now
clad in only his jockey shorts. His young hairless body started to tremble
slightly. "There's something wrong here, " I said. "You're not dressed right
for a gym. Come with me. " He followed me out of the gym into the boy's
lockerroom. I shoved him over to a basket of used and dirty jock straps and
sweat socks in the corner, and forced him to his knees in front of it. "Smell
that good, " I said as I pushed his face into it. "That's the smell of the
sweat and piss. The sweat and the cum and the piss of all your class mates.
Dig in there, so you can smell all of your buddies. Smells good, doesn't it,
dirtball?" Jesse moaned affirmatively. "Damn right. Those are man smells,
sweat and cum and piss and shit. And a man is what you want to be, right?"
"Yes Coach, " Jesse whimpered. "OK, " I said, "find a small jock and pull it
out with your teeth. " He did. I took it from his mouth and looked it over.
"Not dirty enough, " I said throwing it back in. "Find another one. " The
next one was dirtier. "Good. Hold on to it. " I dragged him with the jock
still between his teeth, back into the gym.
Once there, I ordered him to get naked, while I explained that from now on,
the "uniform" for our training sessions would be jock strap only, and told him
to ask for permission to put the jock on. "Please, Coach, may I please wear
the training uniform?" Jesse politely asked. "Why?" I said in return. "Huh?"
he said, surprised. "Why, dirtball, do you think you're entitled to wear it?"
"I'll work very hard to please you, Coach, " the kid replied. "We'll see
about that. . . OK, put it on. " He managed a little smile while he quickly
pulled on the jock that was too small for him. "Wipe that smile of your face,
boy, we got work to do!"
After about an hour of exercises like push ups and sit ups and squat thrusts
and laps around the gym, I felt he was ready for the next phase. "Hit the
showers, dirtball!"
The Kid again...
The cool water felt good on my tired body. Coach Schneider had really worked
me hard. I was a little dissappointed that he hadn't done anything to me
sexually, and this was gonna be it for tonight. I lingered in the shower
letting the water soothe my muscles. All of a sudden I realized Coach
Schneider was standing at the entrance to showers watching me. He ordered me
to turn the shower off. It was then that I noticed that he was holding two
heavy jump ropes in his hand. He ordered me to stand up against the wall
facing it, and then he lifted my arms and tied each one up to shower head on
either side of me. He left me there for a few minutes, and when he came back,
he was holding the paddle that is used in gym class for punishment. For
missing one of Coach Schneider's gym classes without an excuse, the offender is
ordered to stand in front of the entire gym class, pull down his gym shorts
exposing his jock framed buns, and receive one whack from the paddle. My cock
got hard instantly recalling the last time he had used it. It was Grady who
had cut gym. Jeez, Grady cursed Coach Schnieder out for days after that! I
could still hear the SMACK! as the paddle hit his white buns, remember the
whirr it made as it travelled through the air...
SMACK! OW! The pain in my ass brought me back to reality. It was my ass that
was getting the beating now, and I couldn't get away even if I wanted to. . .
SMACK! OW! SHIT! That hurts! "Please, Coach. . . " I pleaded. SMACK! AW
GAWD! "Please WHAT, dirtball? Please spank you some more? Sure!" SMACK! SMACK!
the paddle hit my ass, first on one cheek, then the other. Water started
coming to my eyes, my hard cock hitting the wall infront of me with each
stroke. MY COCK WAS HARD! I didn't understand. SMACK! SMACK! On and on the
spanking went, until I couldn't hold it back any longer, and started to cry.
"Not such a big man, are we?" Coach Scneider said, untieing my hands and then
leading me into his office. He leaned me over his desk, and then started to
rub something cool and soothing on my ass. My breathing was about returning to
normal. He walked around in front of the desk, standing right infront of my
face. Running his hand through my long hair, he said, "This is all gonna have
to come off. . . " and then all of a sudden, savagely grabbed a handfull of
hair with one hand and ripped his big half-hard uncut cock out of his sweats
with the other, stuffing it right into my mouth. "Lesson number two. . . "
the Coach said. I had never had a cock in my mouth before and it made me gag,
but he made me take it all anyway. "You've got to learn what a man is, what he
feels like. " I could feel him getting harder and thicker. ". . . and what
he tastes like. . . " I remembered the smell from the basket of jock straps,
my school mate's jocks, and I could picture all thier cocks and asses that I
had seen in the lockerroom and showers. Just as I was getting used to the big
cock in my mouth, he pulled it out. Still grabbing my hair, he turned around
and put his ass in my face, using his other hand to pull his ass cheeks apart.
"Lesson number three, dirtball!"
I couldn't belive what he was asking me to do now. I hesitated. OW!! He
pulled on my hair so hard I thought he was gonna pull it all out. "A man's
shit is his essence, it's his mark of his territory. Smell it! Taste it!" I
stuck my tongue out and gave a small lick. It smelled real funky. It tasted
worse. But my cock was still hard. . . OW!! as he pulled my hair again.
"C'mon, do it, we aint got all night, boy!" I stuck my tongue out and gave a
bigger lick, it was bitter but not as bad as at first. I moved my head in
closer to take some pressure off my hair, and really started to lick his
asshole clean. He was moaning, so I guessed I was doing it right. I got in
tighter still, actually putting my tongue inside his hole. The bitter taste
was stronger, but I didn't care. I licked and sucked and got that asshole
clean as a whistle.
Finally he let go of my hair. "Don't move, dirtball!" he said as he walked
over to the equipment locker and took out a baseball bat and a can of leather
softener that they use for the mits. He greased up the large end of the bat,
and walked around behind me. The only thing that had ever been up my ass was
my finger. "No, Coach, I can't take a big bat up my ass! Please don't!" I
begged. "Learning to become a man means not knowing how much you can take
until you try, now shut up!" I felt the end of the bat against my hole, and
tensed up. "Relax, " the Coach said, "it'll never get in unless you let it!"
He pushed and pushed but it wouldn't go in. Coach Schnieder put the bat down
on the desk beside me and resting his left hand on my ass, started to insert
the middle finger of his right hand into my hole. The grease left behind by
the bat allowed it to go in easily. Slowly he added another finger, then
another till eventually he had all five of his fingers in my ass up to the
nuckles. "I'm gonna push my whole fist in now boy, hold on. . . " the Coach
said, keeping up the pressure. It hurt like hell, then all of a sudden I felt
it get past the big part. He had is whole fist inside me, and was slowly
pulling it out a little and then pushing it back in. Then without any
warning, he pulled his fist all the way out, and quickly grabbed the bat and
shoved it in, fucking we without a half a foot of it. After about ten minutes
of slowly fucking me with the baseball bat, holding it in my ass as far as it
would go, he again moved around in front of me and pushed his cock in my eager
mouth. About a minute passed, and I could tell by his breathing that he was
getting close. As I started to taste his come in my mouth, he pushed on the
bat hard, and I came too, all over his desk.
He gently pulled the bat out of my abused teenage ass. I just layed there
across his desk too tired to move. He left to change, and finally I went back
to the shower to clean up. When I got back to his office, he handed me the
phone and instructed me to call my parents and tell them I'd be spending the
night at Grady's house, and then he handcuffed me naked to his desk, turned off
the lights, and left me there all night. The next morning he got in early,
gave me my clothes and let me get dressed. As I was about to leave to go to
homeroom, he said, "I expect you to be here right after school. . . and tell
Grady he's got detention with me, too!"
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