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: 18 Jan 2018
It was after 2 p.m. when suddenly the young teacher asleep in the back of the car awoke and sat up
Where are we?! What’s going on?! Why am I here, like this?!
Ah, so the sunshine kid finally awakes! I thought you’d sleep all the way to Wheeler’s Point.
Wuh-hut?! Whuh-ere’s thaaaat? Mark asked, before suddenly exclaiming!
I gotta pee, bad!
You gotta stop, or I’m gonna make another mess in your car, Steve!
Hold on a couple of minutes, kid. I’ll find you a place. The car slowed down, drove off the
roadway, and into the early wooded brush leading to forest, before stopping.
Opening his door, the coach went around, opened the back door on the driver’s side. Grabbing Mark’s skinny arms, Steve pulled the thin, young teacher in just the red-and-white t-shirt and the tight navy blue bike shorts out of the car backwards.
Mark fell downward, his sore butt landing
Thunk on the ground.
Aaaaa! he called out.
Seizing his arm, the driver frogmarched him along into the woods.
Pee, here, little man. Then you’re
going into the back seat to rest your butt, maybe even sleep some more.
Mark Wickham hurried, struggling to pull down the skin-tight, bike shorts. He almost didn’t make it, he had to urinate so urgently. He poured out a strong stream onto the ground, surprised to see his driver, friend, coach, and kidnapper, pulling down his zipper and doing the same.
Afterward, pulling up his bike shorts, he turned to walk back to the car, headed to the passenger side to sit up front with Coach Steve White. Instead, all of a sudden, his arm was caught by the coach’s strong grasp, twisted behind the lean captive, and bent forward, he was propelled forward with a continuous flurry of swats, toward the back of the car.
Opening the back door, Steve shoved Mark toward it. The trim, slim teacher resisted, trying to dig his bare feet into the soil to prevent being tossed into the back seat.
You don’t want to keep doing this, little boy. You know, by know, when you’re bad, naughty, you get spanked.
Instead of pushing Mark into the back seat, Steve sat down, dragged his younger subject down with him, pulling him across the coach’s lap. Grasping the waistband of the bicycle shorts, he yanked them off Mark’s hips and buttocks, down his legs to just below his knees.
At that moment, Mark knew he’d made a serious blunder in challenging Steve’s superior strength and dominant authority; but it was too late. The young coach delivered a swift, impromptu, forceful spanking to the younger teacher’s small, skinny butt.
Mike cried out, futilely trying to kick and squirm, but quite completely confined across the lap of his coach-masseur while the harsh sting of solid, hard spanks smacked his still well-marked bum and thighs.
Okay, you win, Stuh-eve! I said okaaaaay! I’ll go back in there, try-eye-to sleep even! Stuh-oppit!
Puh-uh-lease! And then he began crying, sounding like a boy 8 or 10 years younger than his true age.
The coach persisted another couple of minutes, just to emphasize his authority and control, and to make it sink into his young captive’s comprehension. Stopping, he pulled the bouncing, squalling young teacher up onto his bare feet, pulled the bicycle shorts back up, swatted the small, narrow little but tightly contain in them, before tossing the younger man into the back seat again.
Steve got back behind the wheel and started up the car, resuming the drive with the sound of despondent, remorseful crying from the back seat. After a short while, and despite the youthful teacher already having slept so long, the tears subsided and all was quite quiet in the back.
They drove on for hours until it was nearly 6 p.m. Mark awoke feeling the car slowing down and stopping. He struggled through the post-slumber fog, gathering his knees under him.
Where are we, ah, Steve? he asked.
Wheeler’s point, little man. We’ve got a boat reserved here, but it’s too late to get it and all our stuff together to make the trip before dark. We’ll spend the night here, and head out early in the morning.
Wait here while I get the key to the room, Steve instructed.
If you get out of the car, you’re going to get another spanking, on the spot. Better think about it, and remember.
Mark’s face instantly reflected his alarm.
I’ll remember, he quietly assured Steve.
Once he returned they drove around to the little cabin-room, where the young teacher was pulled from the back seat again and hustled along into the cabin. Steve grabbed his young captive arms, stopping his movement, holding him to stand still.
Immediately, he began stripping off Mark’s clothes, undressing him to stand totally nude. to his disturbing dismay. With the skin-tight, bike shorts skinned off him, Mark instantly sprouted an erection, bobbing straight up, thick and stiff.
Stay right there, little boy, the coach commanded with parental-like authority. Mark said nothing, but bit his lip, turning to watch Steve go back out to bring in what they would need for the night.
In the meanwhile, Mark walked into the bathroom, emptied his bladder, and turned on the shower to wash and freshen from the long ride (and sleep) in the back of Steve’s car. Before he could do so, however, he was stunned at his wounded, suffering, bare bottom being smacked hard, repeatedly, by the coach’s hard, strong hand.
Hey-aaaaay! What’s that for?! Mark shouted at him.
I told you to stay right there, young man, and you deliberately ignored me, disobeyed. Wow! Mark thought, he sounds like he’s the parent, and I’m his kid, whom he’s reprimanding.
We are going to have a conversation, right now, about your attitude and behaviour, little man. You are to do what you’re told. That’s it. No options.
If you do, you will avoid discipline; if you don’t, you won’t. You’ll also know the fulfilling pleasure you’re longing for, the life you need and truly desire; and you know that, too, Mark Wickham, Steve scolded.
He sat down on the toilet seat, pulled Mark around to his right, seizing hold of the younger, smaller man’s slender waist, holding him firmly and unyielding. Suddenly the naked, lean, young teacher felt himself tipped over the coach’s lap.
You know you deserve this, and need it, want it even. I’ve told you so many times before, in the past; now we just left on this trip together, little guy, and you have got to take these words seriously, young man.
You’re mine now, little man. You were on your own, a boy lost, thinking you could figure things out for yourself.
You need somebody to take charge, take over, take control of you, and at the same time give you all the exciting pleasure and relief you hunger for, crave, and desire.
The answer to that is me, little boy. You find it all, all the time, right here with me. You know it, too. You don’t have to worry about any of that now because you’re mine.
The truth is, the bottom line is, you belong to me, little man. You are mine, and you are going to behave, do exactly as you’re told, like a good, little boy, or you’re going to find yourself constantly unable to sit down without severe pain and discomfort.
Looking down at the now-well-familiar, skinny, lean, narrow little butt, Steve’s hands grabbed and kneaded the small mounds, separating them to reveal the still-tight opening the coach had missed and desired for nearly a month.
The first swats came fast and harder. Mark gasped as Steve’s granite firm hand, guided by his strong, well-muscled arm, slapped and spanked his younger subject’s youthful butt.
Mark broke down again, once more overwhelmed by the pain on his bottom and the humiliation of being bared and punished like a misbehaving boy.
He was crying hard, without inhibition.
You know, the answer to that, little, man. Because you need it, and want it, really.
Mark was sobbing, hurting, disgraced and ashamed, yet something within him seemed to strike a quiet chord of acknowledging recognition too. Steve White’s worrisome words troubled him. Maybe he was right, but Mark cringed inwardly, hating the prospect it might be so.
He was immediately shocked by still more volleys of hard, bare hand spanks raining down swats on his naked, unprotected cheeks. He jerked backward and upward, kicking and grunting, as he felt his very sore, red butt growing sorer and hotter, and himself restrained tightly and securely.
The slightly older, fit, hot, and bigger assistant coach, this guy whom the young teacher had met at the high school last year; who had taken care of his rolfing and massage sessions; and to whom he had looked up and admired, was spanking him again!
That reality, flashing with horror through the upended, young man’s mind, was even more shocking and increasingly painful! The younger, smaller, youth began screaming. It was the only recourse he could think of, hoping someone would hear, come in, and stop this inferno searing his behind.
With legs kicking high, almost striking against the floor, his throat grew warm and moist as choking sobs were gathering and building up. There was no time for him to think.
Stop screaming, little man! Do you want someone to come in here and find you being spanked over a man’s knee like a small, bad, misbehaving boy?
Mark gasped amidst his sobs. That thought hadn’t crossed his mind, but now was a dreaded threat he could not bear the possibility of happening.
In the agony of instantly conflicting wants, Mark squinted, contorting his face. The last thing he wanted was for somebody to come in and see him being spanked like a naughty, little child!
Please, Steve! Please, no! Stop it, please! Stop it! Mark cried out in short time.
I’m not going to stop until you surrender, and I mean truly surrender, little buddy. You and I are going to become a part of each other’s lives.
But you are definitely going to have to learn, and a lot quicker and longer lasting before we both settle down and enjoy it. You know it’s what you want, what really loosens and relaxes you.
I’m convinced you, and we, will, and this approach, a whole summer together, should make it clear. Until you come to that realization, though, a lot of our conversations will be with your bare, little bottom upside down over my lap, and my hand, or whatever’s in it, communicating, first with this little butt, and afterward to your brain.
The bigger, stronger, young coach’s hand gently circled, then trailed down Mark’s bare back, cupping under the small, flat, narrow mounds that comprised the lean, young teacher’s bottom. He paused, digging his fingers into Mark’s tender flesh, kneading the red cheeks like balls of dough.
Do I make myself clear, little boy? Mark shivered and flinched at the touch, but, nodding agreement, he did not resist or oppose it.
Okay, then, just a few more, to make sure this understanding is impressed on your mind. Then we’ll get in the shower.
Steve let fly another, swift, stinging flurry of smacks to the already dark-marked, extremely sore buns and backs of thighs. Mark shrieked, but collapsed, hanging limply in submission, accepting what he was getting.
When he stopped, Steve heard only broken, yielded sobbing from his spanked, young subject. He pulled Mark up off his lap and literally lifted him up and placed him inside the shower’s downpour.
He undressed and stepped in with the bare, young teacher. Steve poured shampoo over both their heads. When Mark started to wash his hair, the big coach batted away his hands, and took over scrubbing the young teacher’s head and hair.
After that, Mark stood still, resigned to being dominated in the shower by his coach-masseur. Steve
thoroughly scrubbed the skinny body of his younger subject, before bathing himself. When he was finished the coach crisply directed.
Lie down, on your back, little man.
Mark instantly complied, squatting down, then lying back on the shower floor. The immediate action pleased Steve, viewing it a evidence already demonstrating Mark’s progress in listening and complying when given an order by the coach.
Told to raise his arms, Mark did, unsure why. At once, he had shaving cream squirted into his underarms, and a swift application with a safety razour removed all underarm hair to completely bare smoothness.
Next, Steve repeatedly squirted shaving cream all over the young teacher’s pubic area, cleanly shaving away all hair around the pubis, the base of Mark’s penis, and from his scrotum and penis as well. When the shaving cream was rinsed from him, he stared, startled, at the absence of customary hirsute evidence of male adulthood on his body that made him look like a boy, 8 to 10 years younger.
Irked, he expressed his pique, asking,
Why’d you do that, Steve? Look at me. I look like a kid.
That’s because you are still a kid. You act like a kid – a very young boy, judging by your behaviour. You still need, have to get, spankings to get your to cooperate and comply.
Men spank boys; boys get spanked. You’re obviously a boy, who get punished like the little boy he is.
Leaning forward atop the thin, young man sprawled backward on the floor, Steve began gently, but insistently, penetrating the anus with one finger that wiggled around as it extended deeper inside. Mark’s hips and very sore butt began squirming around on the shower floor.
Wait! Wait! Aaaaa, wait, aaaa, nooo! Stop! I’m sorry, ah, Steve, ah, buh-uht, ah, I, ah, ah, we, aaaa-shouldn’t be doing this, ah, I, ah, duh-on’t, ah, mean to be, um, for us, ah, to be, ah, doing this, he tried to withdraw back and away as he protested.
C’mon, little man! It’s way too long and too late for you to talk that kind of nonsense. You need to cut it out! This is what truly frees you, and you know it.
You need to just let go and enjoy it. I guess you still need to be spanked more, before you’ll listen and do it, let loose of all your tense, tightly wound inhibitions, and go for the liberating pleasure!
Mark instantly relented, crying out
No-no-ooo-nooooo! Please, no, Steve. In response the large, long, engorged phallus of the young, assistant coach replaced his fingers. Mark moaned as he felt himself
being impaled by his coach’s huge harpoon.
The unyielding, hard, column of flesh continued on its way, plowing deeper into him. He realized he was underway for a long, vigourous fucking by this bigger masseur-mentor. The recurrent grazing against his prostate made evoked louder moans and soft squeals.
Steve began long withdrawals, leaving nothing but the bulbous head of his huge rod inside, before plunging it back in as deep as he could drive and bury it in the young teacher. Mark was squirming helplessly, accompanied by involuntary gyrations that pressed back and upward to meet the onrushing organ.
Pushing the pin deeper within him, he joined in, participating in the ravishment fucking himself. Faster and harder, he was obviously as intent on receiving what Steve had as the assistant coach was in giving it. His face manifest the inner transformation from negative to hungering, positive feelings.
All at once, the coach stopped, totally withdrawing out of the teacher. Immediately, Mark felt the emptiness, a longing for what had been there, how it felt, what it did, and wanting it back.
Steve leaned forward, grabbing the boyish face in a firm, but gentle grip.
What are we doing here, boy? I know you want more, to have it, and do it, again, don’t you? Don’t you, you bad little boy?
Mark’s eyes welled to overflowing with tears, and he nodded his head in sorrowful affirmance to his bigger, stronger friend’s inquiry.
It’s yours, little man. You can count on it, because you’re mine, little boy! Steve barked.
Don’t ever forget it, young man! We belong together, like this!
He released his grip on is younger, subject’s chin, allowing the sad face and head to droop. There was something tender, yet powerful, in the touch and actions of the young coach that defied the younger teacher’s intentions, igniting a fire burning deeply within him.
Returning the piston inside the young teacher’s packing, the assistant coach resumed his pounding to the hilt of his shaft into the young man at a punishing pace. Steve’s rod slammed into Mark’s greedy prostate with every drive deeply in, and withdrawal nearly out, leaving the subdued young man writhing and moaning within minutes.
Everything about you is mine, including your erotic turn-ons, your sexual pleasure, your orgasms. You know you always benefit tremendously, and incredibly we both enjoy the heights if ecstasy together, little man!
The talk, uttered while being driven to the edge of orgasmic release, simply stoked the fires harder, propelling Mark closer to his impending eruption. His nerves were on edge; his body felt like it was on fire; and all he had in mind, craved, was the mutual pleasure his coach-masseur produced.
Without any warning, Steve buried his blade in Mark’s tight, hungry behind, moving in earnest, his hips pistoning forward deeply, pausing, then pulling back to resume another powerful thrust. He grabbed the young teacher’s bony hips, yanking him closer as he drove with ferocity.
Mark was grunting and squealing with excitement, eagerly accepting and acceding to each of Steve’s thrusts, a willing receptacle for the coach delivering the anticipated prize. As he felt the invader swelling and stiffen, before exploding within him, the young teacher felt light headed, even while his own member shot its load out between them and into the shower.
As they cooled down together in the afterglow of their orgasms, Steve lay over, covering, the limp, depleted, young teacher. In a few minutes, he rinsed them both again thoroughly, before leaving Mark lying in the shot-off shower, and getting out to dry himself.
When he’d done so, he reached in, and firmly pulled and lifted the skinny, exhausted, young teacher to his feet. While the coach wiped him down with a large, fluffy towel, Mark stood, almost as if in a trance, acquiescing in what was happening.
Finished, Steve reached down with his right arm, scooped Mark up off the floor with that arm under the young teacher’s knees, while holding him up from behind with the other arm. He carried the worn out, young teacher from the bathroom to the bed they would share.
En route, the coach leaned his face forward into Mark’s face, aiming for his mouth. Mark froze, hesitant, and to the surprise of maybe them both leaned his head forward, to meet his coach, making contact, sharing lips and tongues together in animated passion.
Steve laid Mark down on his side on the bed, toward the wall. The coach crawled in next to him, pulling the thin, young man backwards into himself. They laid like that, young teacher spooned into bigger, stronger coach, as they slept during the night, and awoke early the next morning.
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