Date: Tue, 10 Jan 2012 07:21:13 -0800 (PST)
From: Joe Hunter <hunterjoe45@yahoo.com>
Subject: Baseball Diamond Tails - 4F

All the usual disclaimers apply:

+This story is a work of fiction.  If you think it is real, you have a very
active imagination.

+Do not read this story if you live in an area where it is illegal to do
so.

+Scenes of sexual activity between an adult male and a young boy are
represented.  Do not read further if this offends you.

+Please do not imitate the actions portrayed herein - the author cannot
accept responsibility for any actions promoted by this story.

If you would like to get in touch, please e-mail me at:

			hunterjoe45@yahoo.com

I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Support Nifty!   Joe

____________________________


BASEBALL DIAMOND TAILS - 4F
(copyright 2012, Joe Hunter)

::::::::::::::::::::::
 Second Base:  Part F
    (Conclusion)
::::::::::::::::::::::

Danny's triathlon training began on Monday after practice.

"Actually, Ace," I said, caressing his naked body in the front seat of the
SUV, "It really began when you started riding your bike every day.  That's
when you're legs started getting stronger.  Now, we'll begin your running."

Danny stretched, sighing with pleasure as I stroked his slender thighs and
then rubbed his long hard boy stick.  "I can run, Coach," he told me
confidently.

Rubbing harder, I pushed fingers of my other hand down into the satiny
warmth between his legs and Danny arched up, tensing his body.

"Ahhhhhhhhh..."

He quivered, rigid branch throbbing, and then his little hips bucked up.
"Uh...  Uhhhhhhh..."  Tiny drops of milky fluid rolled off the tip of his
pulsing shaft.

I slowed my stroking as he relaxed and he reached up, caressing my naked
chest.  "Coach, I wish we could go to your house."

"Me too, Ace." I slid my fingers off his stiff boner to stroke his firm
taut belly.  "We'll have more time together after baseball season.  Pull up
your jock and your shorts.  We have to get this running done."

I let him run just under a mile that day, following along behind with the
car, and when I stopped him he was dripping with sweat, breathing hard but
still full of determination.

"I can do more, Coach!"

"Yeah, I know," I said, wiping his sweaty little body with my shirt to dry
him off.  "But if I let you do that, tomorrow you'll be so sore you won't
be able to play baseball.  Trust me."

Danny put his small hands on my arms and looked up.  "I do, Coach."

Kneeling down I stroked his smooth, bare shoulders and caressed his face.
"You're the best, Little Ace," I told him softly.  "Every day I'll let you
go farther."

Over the next two weeks our team had four more games and Danny was in all
of them, substituting in three and playing a full game in one.  He was
still small and made his share of errors, but there was growing confidence
and I could see he was making steady improvement.

His mother told me he was eating like a little horse.  "He used to be such
a picky eater.  Now I can't seem to give him enough.  He's hungry all the
time."

"Think it's bad now?" I said, laughing.  "Wait 'til he starts growing.
Your food bill is gonna' triple!"

Then we talked about Danny's ambition to compete in triathlons.  "I'll give
him one-on-one in swimming after baseball season," I told her.  "But you
need to sign him up for swim team and wrestling this winter.  Soccer, too,
this fall and spring if he wants it."

She looked at me in amazement.  "How did you get him to do all this, Coach?
Last year we couldn't talk him into anything.  It's a miracle."

I smiled at her.  "You want a real miracle?  Wait till you see how he's
going to do in school."  She looked dazed.  "Listen," I went on, "Our first
weekend game's Saturday morning.  Can you come?"

She grimaced and shook her head.  "No.  We both have to work.  You think
he'll be upset?  It's the first game I've missed."

"He'll understand.  Don't worry about it.  I'll take care of him."

* * * *

I like Saturday morning games in the summertime.  The weather is almost
always nice, the temperature cooler than the afternoon and the kids play in
daylight instead of under lights.

Our opponent that morning was a team I judged to be weaker than us, so my
younger players were assigned the whole game and the good 12-year-olds
substituted.  I also went with my second string pitchers.

"OK, guys," I told the 11-year-olds in the dugout.  "This is your time -
your game to win or lose.  Remember what you've learned.  Go out there and
show your stuff.  Let's get 'em!

The boys gave a little cheer and charged onto the diamond for warm up.

That game was close, and the lead kept seesawing back and forth each
inning.  The boy I had on the mound was just learning how to pitch, doing
it for the first time in a game.  Naturally he was nervous, but the rest of
the team, subs and veterans alike, rallied around and he did his best.

I thought Danny was doing quite well.  He made contact with the ball every
time he was up, and the second at bat he got a hit - a blooper fly over the
shortstop's head, just out of reach.  It was the first time he had ever
gotten a ball out of the infield.  I watched him dance around on first,
obviously excited, and even though he got stranded when our next batter
struck out, his spirits were not dampened in the least.  He came running
over to me on his way back to the dugout.

"Did you see it, Coach?  Did you see me?  I hit into the outfield!  Did you
see that?"  He held on to my arm, bouncing up and down on the balls of his
feet.

"Better believe I saw it, Little Ace!"  I held up a palm and we high-fived.
"You're getting stronger!"

"Yeah!" Danny was beaming happily.  "You're making me stronger.  I can feel
it!"

He got his glove and ran out to his second base position full of
confidence.

There was a ground ball hit to him in the following inning.  He put himself
in a good position to get it, but fumbled trying to get control as he
pulled it out of his glove.  The ball rolled away and by the time he got
hold of it the runner was safe at first.  I saw him smack his glove a few
times and I could tell he was mad at himself.

The other team scored two runs that inning, one of them the runner Danny's
error had allowed on base.  When Danny came running back to the dugout at
the end of the inning he was shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, Coach."

I patted his shoulder.  "Nothin' to be sorry about, Little Ace.  You
stopped the ball and got control of it.  Those are your first jobs.  Even
the major leaguers can't always make the play."

He gave me his shy little smile.  "I'll do better on the next one, Coach."

Halfway through the game, at substitution time, we were down by a few runs
and I was confronted with a minor rebellion from my veteran players.  "Come
on, Coach," one of them complained.  "We can't lose to these guys!  Keep us
in."

It's always easier to give way in those situations, but I shook my head and
stuck with the plan.  Developing players have to learn how to perform under
pressure, even if they make mistakes and lose.  It's part of what baseball
has to teach.

By the end of the game I was more hopeful about salvaging a victory.  We
were up by two runs, and if we could get three outs without any damage my
younger players would be able to say they had won a game.  I put the best
remaining 11-year-old pitcher on the mound and crossed my fingers.

The first kid up to bat singled - not such a good start - but then the next
one struck out and that was better.  One down, two to go, I told myself.

"Come on, guys!" I yelled from the dugout.  "You can do it!"

My young pitcher threw a couple of balls to the next boy up, settled down,
got one over the plate, and the batter hit a weak roller to the left side.
Our shortstop charged, scooping it up, and in an attempt to nail the lead
runner threw to second where Danny had scurried over to cover the bag.  It
was a close play, but Danny would have made the out if he had caught the
ball.  Instead he glanced at the runner and did not turn back in time to be
ready for the throw.  The ball hit his glove, bounced out - and then Danny
was knocked off his feet by the runner sliding in.

Our center fielder was backing up the play so there was no further advance,
but the damage was done.  Instead of having two outs there was still only
had one, and runners were on first and second.

Danny got up slowly, dusting himself off.  I knew he was very upset, but my
shortstop, the same 12-year-old who had helped Danny with his throwing at
the first practice and who had been friends with him ever since, went over
to say something to him, patting him on the back.  I saw Danny nod.  Then
he went back to his position and got into his stance.

He needed to be ready, because the next batter was one of those left-handed
kids who like to hit to the right side.  I seriously considered putting on
an infield shift, but the 11-year-old at third was inexperienced and I
figured it would probably just result in a big fiasco.  There was nothing
to do but pray.

This lefty isn't that big, I thought.  Maybe he won't hit too well.

My pitcher got a strike and a couple of balls on the kid.  Then he served
up another fat one over the plate.  I saw the batter step into the pitch
and thought, Uh-oh!

The kid swung right through making good contact, but he was just a little
over the top.  The ball shot past the pitcher's mound, a zinging grounder
heading straight for Danny.

The thing was like a rocket.  A foot to either side and Danny would never
have been able to get it.  His reactions were fast, but he was still not
strong enough to move that quickly.  But he did not have to move to get
this because it was right to him, coming like a ground hugging ballistic
missile.  He had himself set and positioned perfectly, and I know he would
have made a nice play on the ball.

But our field was not perfect.  Even in the major leagues, where infields
are manicured daily by ground crews paid more than your local bank
president, bad hops occur.  Our poor little field was built from tailings
off the local strip mine and maintained by volunteers.  The rocketing ball
hit something in the dirt, rose in the air over Danny's perfectly
positioned glove and hit him right in the face.

There was a collective "Oh!" from the spectators and everyone stood up.

Danny was obviously dazed.  What he did next he did on pure instinct, from
the hours of practice he and I had done together.  He picked up the ball
lying on the ground in front of him, turned and more by luck than anything
else tagged the runner going from first to second.  Then he threw to first
base.  It was not a good throw.  My long lanky 12-year-old on the base had
to make a heroic stretch, but he got the ball, managed to keep a toe on the
bag, and the throw just beat the runner.

It was a game-ending double play.

The crowd in the bleachers went nuts for a moment and then turned silent in
almost the same instant.  I was running in a panic across the field because
after making his throw Danny had fallen in a little heap on the dirt and he
wasn't moving.

I knelt down next to the boy, just as I had so many times when we played
his imagination games, terrified that this time the game would be all too
real.  Taking him up in my arms, I called to him, "Little Ace!" and relief
washed over me when the boy's eyes opened and he wiggled around.

"Don't take me out, Coach," he begged in a heartbreaking little voice.
"I'm OK.  Don't take me out!"

He was so confused; he did not know that his play had ended the game.

"It's all right, Little Ace," I told him, my voice choking.  "I won't take
you out.  We won!  You won the game for us!"

The umpire and the other coach were with me by that time.  "He's OK," I
told them.

By great good luck neither of Danny's eyes were injured.  The ball had hit
him just above his nose, between the eyebrows, and a big lump was already
forming.  Someone brought an ice pack and I held it to Danny's face.

"You're gonna' be OK, Little Ace.  Keep that ice pack right there.  That's
right..."  I wiped my eyes and then gave the boy a fierce hug.  "You won
the game, Danny!  You got a double play!  I'm so proud of you...

"I'm taking him to the emergency room for an x-ray," I told the umpire and
the other coach as we walked Danny over to the dugout.  They helped me pack
the equipment and then my players and their parents loaded the SUV.  "Why
don't you all come up to the ER with me," I told them.

My shortstop was right beside me going to the car and now he scrambled into
the passenger seat taking Danny on his lap.  My Little Ace leaned back
against his friend gratefully and the boy held Danny's ice pack on his
forehead for him.

"My glove, Coach," Danny told me.  "And my bike!"

"It's OK," I assured him.  "We got everything loaded up."

The first baseman climbed into the back.  "I'm coming, too," he insisted
and leaned forward to gave Danny a pat on the shoulder.  "You're OK, Little
Ace."  I had everyone calling him that now.

We all went up in a caravan to the emergency room and scared the hell out
of Danny's mom who was one of the clerks on duty there, but she soon calmed
down and Danny got pampered and fussed over.  The x-ray showed that nothing
was broken and Danny walked out of the ER triumphantly with the whole team
around him laughing and patting him on the back.  It was a very nice moment
and I was proud of him and all my boys.

We split up in the parking lot.  "Great game, guys," I told them.  "If
they're all gonna' be this exciting it's gonna' be one hel...  er, heck of
a season!"

The boys snickered and exchanged mischievous looks, as they always did
whenever I came close to swearing.

I grinned at them.  "See you all at practice on Monday!"

My shortstop and first baseman both shook Danny's hand before they left and
the shortstop added a little brotherly hug.

Danny's just the greatest, Coach," he told me.

"Yeah," the first baseman agreed.  "I wish all the rookies worked as hard
as he does."

I held out a fist for the boys to touch.  "You guys are gonna' take care of
him for me, aren't you?  I mean, when school starts again and everything."

"We got him, Coach," the shortstop assured me.  "Don't worry.  Nobody's
gonna' mess with him."

"Danny," I said.  "These guys are on the swim team and in wrestling during
the winter."  Turning to the other boys I explained, "Danny's gonna' sign
up this year."

"All right!"

"Cool!"

My two veterans offered palms for Danny to slap and told him, "See ya
Monday!" before trotting off toward their parents' cars.

"Keep that ice pack on your forehead, Little Ace," I ordered, helping him
into the SUV.

"It's cold, Coach!"

"No duh!  That's why it's called an ice pack.  Keep it right up there."

As we drove out of the parking lot, Danny wiggled happily in his seat.  "I
did good today, didn't I?"

"You were terrific," I told him, my voice choking.  "You were just...
just..."

"Coach, you're crying!"  Danny said.  He leaned over the seat divider to
touch my shoulder.

"I'm just so damn proud of you, Little Ace..."  With a deep breath I got
myself under control.  "And I was so scared you might have been hurt."

"It did hurt, Coach.  But, I didn't care."  The boy looked around.  "Where
are we going?"

"Keep that ice pack on."  I patted his knee.  "We're going someplace
special."

At a local supermarket, while Danny waited in the car, I loaded up on soda,
junk food and submarine sandwiches.  Then, with my excited young ballplayer
munching away on cheese crackers and holding the ice pack in place, we
drove beyond the outskirts of town and took the unpaved roads leading up
into the mountains.  I put the SUV into four-wheel drive.

At the first plateau, about 3000 feet above town, I turned onto a fire road
that wound along a ridge giving a fantastic view.

"Wow, we are high!"  Danny exclaimed, gazing out the window.

"Yeah.  Feel how much cooler it is up here?"

We passed through a stand of pine, followed a rough track that went up
steeply and then came to a level stretch ending in a turnaround by a big
log cabin.

"Wow!  This is nice, Coach!"  Danny craned his neck, peering around.  "I
didn't know you had this."

"It's not mine, it belongs to some friends.  They let me use it sometimes."

We got out and while Danny explored I brought our bags of food into the
cabin.  The place was huge: complete kitchen, a big living room with stone
fireplace and cathedral ceiling, and four large bedrooms.  Once inside,
with our food put away, I picked Danny up and the boy wound his arms around
me hugging tightly.  He lifted his face to be kissed, opening his mouth as
my tongue slipped in, and we clung together, bodies twisting, the bulge of
Danny's long hard boy stick rubbing on my thigh.

Except for his jock, Danny was naked under his uniform.  I stroked, sliding
the thin cotton shirt he was wearing over silky smooth skin and he moaned
with longing, squirming in my arms.

When our lips parted at last I kissed each of the boy's eyes with their
long delicate lashes, gently kissed the swollen lump above his nose and
then led him to a mirror.

"You're going to have two big black eyes tomorrow.  They're starting
already."

Danny giggled.  "I'm gonna' look like a raccoon."

"You need something to eat.  And we don't want your uniform to get any food
on it, do we?"

Danny shook his head solemnly and I picked him up, carrying him into one of
the big downstairs bedrooms where the double bed had a colorful Indian
throw on it.  Here we took off his Nikes and then pulled his uniform shirt
out of the pants so he could slide it off.  Clear mountain sunshine
flooding through the windows made Danny's bare upper body gleam like
polished stone.  He stretched out on the bed, arms over his head, and I
stroked his silky body, caressing firm shoulders and chest, sliding a palm
on the taut little boy tummy and then holding his small lean waist while I
bent to kiss his tiny erect nipples.  Danny moaned, twisting in passion,
squirming and tightening his butt.

My fingers tugged at the elastic waist of the skin-tight uniform pants and
Danny lifted his hips so I could push them down to his knees, revealing
smooth slender thighs and a little jock straining to contain his long
jutting hardness.  The boy's upper legs were rounded with new muscle and
when my palm glided over them he flexed proudly, arching a little,
tightening his butt and then catching his breath with a quiver of pleasure
as I brushed the creases of his groin.

Inch by inch I slid the pants down, massaging the swell of Danny's calves
through his leggings and then finally slipping pants, leggings, socks all
off, exposing Danny's tender young body, naked except for his jock.
Hurriedly, I pulled off my clothes and then stretched out next to my
beautiful boy, taking him in my arms to press the length of his bare flesh
to my own.  After covering his delicate face with kisses, I let my palm
glide down to stroke his rounded butt and firm thighs, whispering over and
over, "Little Ace, my brave little ballplayer..."

The boy arched and thrust, moaning with pleasure as he was caressed,
hugging tight and then circling his small hands over my back and shoulders.
"I wanna do it, Coach," he pleaded.  "I wanna do that thing..."

But we had hours before us and I knew he should eat first, so after a long
deep kiss I forced myself to get up, pulling him to his feet with me, and
stood him by the bed so I could admire him.

You look so good in your jock."

The boy posed with hips thrust out, showing off his body proudly.  Then he
twisted around to look over his shoulder and, reaching back, touched his
pert little butt.  "I still wish I had more here, Coach."

"You will," I assured him.  "Give it time.  It's getting a little fuller
already."

I took him to the kitchen, fed him cold soda, corn chips, and a big turkey
and Swiss cheese sub, which he munched happily.  Then while he ate I went
out to the deck, removed the cover from the hot tub and turned on the
pumps.  Back in the kitchen I joined Danny at the table with a sandwich of
my own and watched him finish his.  The boy had been so hungry he devoured
an entire foot-long sub.

"Now," I told him, "I have a nice surprise for you."

Danny's face lit up and he hugged around my neck while I picked him up and
tenderly removed his jock, freeing his long slender branch from
constriction.  It jutted out, a rigid quivering branch, and lifting the boy
I took it into my mouth sliding my lips back and forth on the slick shaft,
tonguing the little head.

"Mmmmmmm," I moaned and the boy giggled, squirming with pleasure.

Carrying Danny I stopped off in the bathroom for some KY and then took him
out to the hot tub on the deck where he stared out in wonder at the view.

"Awesome...  Coach, it's so awesome!"

Holding the boy secure in my arms I climbed over the edge of the tub and we
settled into the hot bubbling water.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh..." Danny sighed relaxing against me, eyes closed in
contentment.

He remained limp and motionless for a time while I stroked his silky body
and then, adjusting to the heat, he squirmed off my lap to explore, bobbing
and paddling about happily, trying the different combinations of bubbles
and water jets.  He ended up on the far side of the tub submerged in the
hot water, eyes up just far enough to peer over the tub's edge taking in
the fantastic view.

"If you look carefully," I said, joining him, "You can see our practice
field.  Over at the far side of town.  See it?"  I pointed.  "You can just
make out the backstops at either end...  Beyond the rail spur and the
elevators..."

Danny looked.  "I see it!  I see it, Coach!  This is so cool!"  But then he
turned to me anxiously.  "They can't see us, can they?"

"No, Little Ace."  I stroked his back and butt under the water.  "If anyone
looks up here, all they'll see are trees and mountains."

The boy leaned against me, slipping a hand around my waist and with his
other squeezing my straining member.  I trembled a little and tightened my
butt.

"I'm getting better at this, aren't I Coach?"

"Yeah..." I answered in a husky voice.  The boy's sliding fingers sent a
wave of sensation shuddering through me.

"Coach," Danny whispered.  "I wanna do it.  Can we?  Please?"

I nodded, lifting his head up for a kiss and the boy opened his mouth,
letting my tongue thrust deep.  His body, silky with bubbles, twisted
against mine and as my hard erection throbbed in his little fist I fought
to keep myself from coming right then.

When our lips parted I sat up on the edge of the tub, steam rising from my
heated flesh, and pulled Danny over my knees.  The boy reached back to
spread open his butt cheeks and I pushed gobs of KY into his opening,
smearing more on my rigid member.  Then, turning Danny, holding him around
the waist, I positioned the tip of my straining shaft on his small dimple.
It was already gaping slightly as the boy sought to open himself.  I pushed
my swollen head into the muscular ring and the boy backed onto it straining
his slender thighs apart.  A push slid me into his hot cavity.

The boy gave a little gasp.  I felt him flinch as his stretched ring
spasmed, clenching around me, and then the constriction eased.  Danny
shifted, accommodating to my fullness and I felt him pushing down.  When I
pulled him toward me my hard shaft slid in, penetrating half way and he
gave a long soft groan, "Uhhhhhhhhhh..."

Shuddering, legs jerking, Danny arched his head back and pleaded, "Stab me,
Coach...  More...  In more..."

I waited to be sure he was ready and then let him press down.  The boy
groaned again, my rigid hardness thrust upward and he slid down on it,
impaling himself completely.  As his firm butt pressed to my groin he
squirmed around my penetrating rod, feet jerking.

"Coach..." the boy moaned.  "Coach..."

With my stiff man rod wrapped in sweet hot tightness I eased back into the
hot water and Danny wiggled, trying to move my tip within himself and at
the same time push it in even deeper.  "Oh, Coach..." he whispered.

We reclined on a wide ledge of the tub where I could stretch out with Danny
leaning back against me, impaled on my thrusting hardness and held there by
my arm around his waist.  His long boy stick had wilted on entry but now he
was already half erect again and some rubbing and stroking brought him back
to full rigidity.  With his knees as far apart as possible he rested his
head on my chest, moaning with pleasure at the movement of my fingers on
his throbbing boner.  He stretched his arms up over his head and slid them
around my neck.

"Feel good, Danny?"  I whispered.

"Uh-huh."

I rubbed him slowly.  "We're going to do something very special.  You know
how proud of you I am."

The boy nodded, writhing to feel my hardness inside him.

"You've made promises to me.  Now I'm going to make promises to you."  I
squeezed his hard boner with my fingers.  "When you make this jerk - you
know the good feeling you get?"

"Uh-huh."

"Let's see how many times you can do it.  Each time, I'll make you a
special promise.  OK?"

Danny twisted his butt down on me and I tightened myself, swelling my shaft
in his tight heat and the boy was so aroused that the moment I began to rub
him firmly under the water he arched up shuddering, rigid shaft pulsing
under my stroking fingers.

"Nice," I told him.  "That's one.  In late July, right after our last game,
I'm taking you, the shortstop and the first baseman camping in the
mountains.  We'll hike way up into the wilderness around the high peaks and
spend two nights."

Danny wiggled with happiness.  "Promise, Coach," he whispered.

"Promise, Little Ace."

I kept stroking him and the boy writhed on my impaling rod, straining his
knees apart and twisting his feet.  He moaned softly, "Uh...  Uh...
Uhhhhhhhh..." and then suddenly arched in tension.  Another train of pulses
jerked his hard slender shaft and Danny bucked in passion.

"Yeah!  That's two!"  I poked a finger in his belly button and wiggled it.
"During August, when I'm on vacation, you and I are gonna' work on your
swimming.  We'll see each other every day and you'll be doin' it with your
friends the shortstop and the first baseman.  All four of us are takin' a
trip to see a major league baseball game and go to a water park."

"Awesome!"  Danny whispered in delight.

"Better believe it.  Let's see you do another one!"

My fingers kept up a steady pumping on his long shaft and with my other
hand I angled one of the jets onto Danny's groin.

"Ooooo...  Oooooo..."  The boy squirmed with pleasure.  He quivered,
stretching his arms up around my neck as his long hard boy stick pulsed
again.

"Three," I told him lovingly.  "This fall we'll concentrate on biking and
running.  We'll sign you up for soccer for extra conditioning and you'll
work with me every night on the weights that I'm getting for you."

Danny wiggled, nearly beside himself.  "Cool!  Like getting' me stronger!
Promise you'll teach me, Coach."

"It's a promise."

I was stroking him harder now and the hot water, the sensations flooding
through him, had the boy in a trance of passion.  He twisted on my up
thrust shaft, pumping his hips, and then jerked as contractions throbbed in
his rigid boner.

I bent to kiss the top of his head as he fell back shuddering against me.
"That's four.  All this winter I'll work with you on the swim team and
wrestling team.  You'll be going to meets on the weekends with me and your
two friends.  There'll be chances to win medals and trophies.  We'll keep
working on the weights and I'll help with your homework.  But best of all -
I'll take you out here in the mountains snowmobiling.  We can use this
cabin and we'll be all alone up here."

"Snowmobiling!"  Danny exclaimed in a daze.  "Coach, I've never been
snowmobiling!"

"You're going this winter - and on your very own snowmobile.  I have two of
them."

"Oh, wow!"

Danny was squirming again, shuddering and twitching, nearly out of control,
as my fingers relentlessly pounded his long boy shaft.  I arched up against
him, grinding my hips, and suddenly he was bucking in a frenzy, hard boner
throbbing and jerking.

"Five," I told the enraptured boy.  "This spring, on your vacation, I'm
taking you to New York City for a special kid triathlon.  We'll see the
Empire State building, the Statue of Liberty...  You'll play video games in
Times Square and watch them do Good Morning America."

"Coach..." Danny pleaded.  "For real?  You promise?  New York City?"

"It's a promise."

"On an airplane?"  He could hardly believe me.

"On an airplane."

"Uhh...  Ohhhhhhhhhh..."

Quivering on the verge of exhaustion the boy heaved and thrashed, pumping
his hips frantically to slide on my shaft while my fingers kept rubbing his
jutting branch.  I heaved up against his down thrusts and the boy's head
arched back.  With little bleating cries he held himself in position as I
moved and thrust within him.

"Uh...  Uh...  Uh...  Ah...  Ah..."

My shaft sliding in the boy's tight hot sweetness sent me careening over
the edge.  Holding the quivering boy I stretched up into him, trying to
force the tip of my rigid member deeper and when I felt the bulge in
Danny's lean stomach a wave crashed over me that nothing could hold back.
With a massive contraction I exploded into the boy, my thick shaft jerking
in throb after throb as I flooded his hot cavity with semen.

Danny felt it.  Head straining back, he gave a long high-pitched cry of
passion, "Oooooooooooooooooo..."

His body convulsed and with me heaved up against him, my fingers pumping
his rigid boy stick, he bucked in five hard jerks.  Legs extended, he held
his body in desperate tension for a few more moments as I continued to rub,
and then he went limp, sprawling back against me, arms falling away from
around my neck.

I was completely spent myself.  I stopped rubbing and held Danny, gliding
my hand over his smooth thighs, caressing his delicate waist and circling a
palm on his firm little tummy.  Gradually I softened and when I slipped out
of his ring.  I quickly put a hand over his rounded butt, cupping
protectively to bring his cheeks together.  With a sigh the boy turned
toward me, moving slowly in the hot water and I cuddled him, holding him
like a baby against my chest, keeping my hand tight on his butt.

When I kissed him tenderly the boy put his arms around my neck.  "Little
Ace, my Little Ace," I whispered.  "I'm so proud of you.  That was six."

"Six," the boy repeated, hugging me.

"Next summer," I whispered, "Our next wonderful summer.  You'll be so much
bigger and stronger.  We'll be working on baseball along with your
triathlon all spring.  You'll compete in big triathlon meets all over and
your picture will be in the newspaper.  And in baseball, Little Ace,
All-Star team for sure.  Home runs...  Big plays..."

I stroked him, rocking his smooth tender body against my own, seeing it all
so very clearly - a wonderful year stretching ahead of us; hard training,
exciting competition, wonderful trips, good times with friends...

"Best of all, Danny," I breathed.  "It'll be you and me.  Together.  Doing
it all.  Having a wonderful time."

"Promise, Coach?"  Danny whispered back.

I hugged my precious second baseman.  "Promise."

"Coach?" Danny asked in his soft little voice.  "Remember tryouts?"

"I remember."

Eyes sparkling, the boy looked up, delicate features lit by that lovely shy
smile.

"I told you Coach.  Remember?  I told you I was good..."

[ The End ]

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Hope you enjoyed it!  This baseball series has a 'long' short story for
every position around the diamond.  Look for a new chapter or two each
month.  Here is a short excerpt from the next in the series - The Third
Baseman:

... Edwin was a walking disaster area.

Right from the first practice I knew I had trouble.  I was talking to my
veteran center fielder, the unofficial captain of the team, when Edwin and
his father drove up and got out of their truck.

"Ah no, Coach," my center fielder groaned.  "Don't tell me we got stuck
with Goofy on our team."

"Who?"

"Him."  The boy pointed.  "The Mex kid.  Goofy."

"That's not a very nice name," I said, frowning.

"It's what they call him at school.  Tell me he's not on the team, Coach."

"Well, he is," I said firmly.  "And I better not hear anyone call him
Goofy."

"But Coach," the boy protested, "That's his name!"

"Not here it isn't."

As the boys started warm-ups I watched Edwin, studying him.  He was tall,
very skinny and I could see how he had gotten his name.  He did look
'goofy'.

I later discovered that nature had played some cruel tricks on Edwin.  He
had been born with a harelip and an eye condition called strabismus.  Both
had been corrected surgically, but the harelip had left a scar, and one of
the boy's eyes did not quite track with the other.  His vision was fine,
but the slightly off-track pupil gave him an odd look.  As if this were not
enough, Edwin was also spectacularly ugly, with lank black hair, a
monkey-like face and sparse black hairs just visible on his upper lip and
chin.  His lower arms and legs had a dusting of dark hair as well, although
the rest of his body was smooth.

He was quite tall and you had to keep reminding yourself that he was only
12 because he looked about 14.  And he was spectacularly thin, like a
survivor from some concentration camp.  In fact, his skull like face and
knobby, skinny frame appeared so emaciated I made a tactful visit to his
home just to see if he really was being fed properly.  I covered this
investigative mission by bringing some scorebooks and schedules for his
father, but I really was worried that the poor kid might be starving and it
was with relief that I watched him cleanup two helpings of rice and beans.

"I feed him and feed him," his mother, who was Anglo, told me desperately,
"But he's still so thin!"

"He's growing," I told her.  "In a year you'll see a difference.  He's
gonna' be tall, like his dad."

I reached over and ruffled Edwin's black hair.  "Bet he's gonna' be strong,
too."

The boy gave me a shy grateful little smile.  Suddenly he wasn't ugly at
all.

 [ To be continued... ]

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Thanks for taking the time to read my story and if you'd like to comment,
my e-mail address is:

			hunterjoe45@yahoo.com

I will try to answer all serious mailings.  My on-line access is very
limited.  Rants and ravings will not get consideration.

To all you readers who enjoy these stories, please support Nifty with
contributions and keep the Archive online.  Check the Nifty home page for
ways to make contributions.  Without this Archive those of us who write for
you will lose a wonderful resource to get our stories out.

You can find links to all my other stories on Nifty under my name, Joe
Hunter, listed under the J's (for Joe) in the prolific authors list.  To
get that list click the Authors tab at the top of the Nifty home page and
then select 'Prolific Authors'.  I hope you will read and enjoy!

All the Best.  Joe