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The Tenant
Part 14

by Graham

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Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 05 Dec 2017

Late Tuesday afternoon, May18, Mark locked his classroom, carrying his sports bag with him to the gym. In the coach’s small locker room, he changed into running shoes, a sleeveless t-shirt, and thin, skimpy, nylon running shorts.

The room was empty, so his anxious, self-consciousness about the explicit spank marks all over his narrow, little rum and thin thighs was needless. Of course, his shorts did not fully conceal some of the marks on the backs of his thighs.

Not waiting for anyone else, including assistant coach Steve White, he set off running. If he could get far enough away, he would have no one to worry about seeing the angry spank imprints on his lower thighs.

Mark always started out slower than his regular pace once he had warmed up. As he ran, he was thinking about what had happened last night, then about what all he had experienced and gone through in the last couple of months.

He had gotten healthier, was in good condition; and Steve’s rolfing manipulations and massages had brought him into an unimagined dimension of unwinding relief of uptight tensions and release of pent up, high-strung, edgy stresses and nervousness.

Yet, he felt anxious, guilty even, about what had been involved and demanded to attain the admittedly, though strangely, singular state of nirvana-like peacefulness and serenity. He relished the result, basked in it; but he wondered if he would have, should have, consented and proceeded with what it required.

Aaaaauumphaaaaa! Mark cried out loud as a wide, strong hand delivered a hard, abrupt, unforeseen swat to the scant seat of his thin, skimpy, nylon shorts that clung tightly to his skinny, narrow mounds.

Whaaa-aht, ah, ah, heeey, Steve! Mark called out as his hand instinctively clasped his rearend while he turned to see whose hand had imparted a solid, smarting smack.

Were you trying to avoid me, little man? Steve inquired, whacking Mark’s butt again.

Aaaaaa-ah-noooo! I didn’t, ah, see anybody, you, and just decided to, um, go out running, ah, anyway. Mark dropped a hand in front of him to cover an instantly growing erection.

Well, I caught you, ah, caught up with you, so we can finish the run together, Steve responded. Bet you on the end, getting back to the gym. Want to do 9 miles?he challenged.

Nine? Mark asked. I haven’t done nine before. He turned slightly as he stood there, to conceal his now-evident erection.

What’s the matter, kid, are you afraid? Steve was pushing, taunting the young teacher.

No. No, I’m not afraid. Just wondering about how long it will take, and what kind of shape I’ll be in at the end. That’s all, Mark answered.

Oh, we’re going to push it, hard, young man. At the end? You’ll be in the loser’s shape, that’s what shape you’ll be in, Steve told him, laughing.

Mark laughed back, adding We’ll see about that.

Let’s go, young man! Steve goaded his friend and fellow runner with two, more swift, solid swats on the younger teacher’s fanny. Mark took off at once, in part out of eagerness to loosen and loose his uncomfortable, ripening hard-on.

They did run hard. Steve was not only bigger, stronger, in superior shape and condition to this younger friend and subject; he was also faster, incredibly fast for a big guy.

Mark felt himself being pushed on, harder, farther, against his boundaries, as he usually did when under, and subject to, Steve’s influence. In just under an hour they arrived back at the gym, though Steve pulled away in the last 2 minutes, making sure he opened a lead that Mark could not make up.

Both young men were gasping and inhaling loudly and deeply, bending over as they recovered their breath. Steve came up to Mark, grabbed his skinny arm, and swatted the doubled over runner seven times as he dragged him along to the showers.

Come on, little man. Let’s get showered and cleaned up, so we can go home.

Aaaa-aaa-oo-aaa-kaaay! Mark responded under the volley of swats. At the door to the shower, they stripped of their shirts and shorts. Mark instantly ran in under the warm downpour to cleans the sweat, grime, and stench away, and let the water wilt his bobbing boner.

Afterward, they each towel-dried, picked up their sweaty, running clothes, and headed bare to the lockers. Aaaaa-ow-ow! Mark yelped as Steve sniped his towel to bite the younger man’s bare, well-spank-marked behind.

Get moving, Mark. It’s time we both get home! Steve joked.

I know, I know, but, ah, I gotta be able to, um, sit down in my car to get there! Mark called out.

Once they were both dressed, Steve turned out the lights, locked the doors, and they walked out together to the lot where their vehicles were parked.

You’re doing alright, kid. You can do this. I think you’ll make it.

Feeling strangely, somewhat euphorically encouraged, Mark thanked him and got in his car, gingerly eased his bum down onto the seat, and drove away.

When he arrived at his apartment, Mr. Strauss was waiting. Mark, you’re not too late. Come on and have a quick supper with me. You can go on right after and do whatever you’ve got to do tonight, he urged.

Ah, thuh-anks, Mr. Strauss. I’m getting final exams ready in all my classes for next Monday, he explained.

Okay, okay, young man. I know you’re busy, but you still have to eat. And you especially need it, thin as you are. So, come on. Sit down, have a good supper, then you can skedaddle right away to go work on your final exams.

Mark acceded, acquiescing in his amicable landlord’s insistent offer. The meal was delicious and he was glad he did. He surprised himself at eating the seconds Mr. Strauss forced on him.

When it was over, Martin Strauss instructed his young tenant to take your plate and cutlery to the sink and leave it, then go get moving on those final exams. Mark smiled out of gratitude and pleasant satisfaction, heeding his landlord’s direction, and heading off to his apartment.

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