Date: Wed, 22 Jun 2005 16:58:34 -0400 (EDT)
From: T Chase <survivalgame@excite.com>
Subject: Nature Walk 45

The following story is a work of fiction set in the format of reality. Any
resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental in nature, and is not
meant to accurately reflect persons in towns, cities, or governmental
areas, in which the story is staged. If sexual scenes involving male to
male relationships offends you, then you should not read this story.
Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most states and
countries, you are not allowed to read this by law. This is fiction. Don't
forget, in real life, to think about 'sexual safety matters'; got condom?

"Nature Walk" 45 (M/t oral anal homophobic theme - gangbang)
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"A quick way to get an idea of the climate of a particular place is to look
at a "climate-graph," or "climograph." A climograph is what scientists
create to show a particular location's average temperature and
precipitation during the year."

"Thank you for reading that for us, Suzette," Alonzo acknowledged the tenth
grader. "Now, students, look at the bottom of your handout and you will a
climograph for Moose Factory, Canada."

Fifteen year old Bart Maxwell, asks, "Is that where all the moose in Canada
come from, Mr. Romano?"

Alonzo let the joke slide, allowing the few who thought it humorous, laugh.

Barry, his team teaching partner, elaborated, "I'll try to talk Mr. Romano
into not deducting too many points from your grade for that facsimile of a
joke, Bart!"

The room roared with laughter. Alonzo couldn't get them to quiet down, but
with Barry's thumb zipping across his throat, the laughter died. Alonzo
thought to himself, 'How does he do it?'

"As I was saying, the climograph at the bottom of your hand out, is to help
you study it. The different parts of the climograph have been identified by
number. A description of..."

In midsentence the voice of Agnes, the office secretary sounded from the PA
system in their classroom.

"Hello, Mr. Romano?"



"Yes," he replied, looking up at the little box above the chalk board.

"Could you spare Mr. Barr for the rest of the period?"

"I suppose so. Yes. Sure," Alonzo again focused on the screened box.

"Are you sure you don't need me?" Barry inquired.

"Just as long as we don't have anymore jokers," he replied seriously, his
eyes zeroing in on Bart.

Barry left the room, as Alonzo kept on with the lesson. At a moderate walk,
he proceeded to the office. Upon entering, he came across two familiar
faces, along with a bunch of unknowns.

"Jade? Catherine?"



"Hi, Mr. Barr," Jade spoke formerly.

Before Jade could get it out, Catherine said, "Jade conned me into helping
her group of thespians, bring over the costumes for your square group!"

Barry set Catherine in the right, "It's a rectangle, for 'Rectangulaire',
but thank you just the same."

Four people, including Jade and Catherine, stood there, holding cardboard
boxes. Three others entered the office, carrying assorted sizes of cartons.

"Oh my!" Barry exclaimed, at seeing all the supplies for the planned
madrigal presentation.

"These need to be put in a safe place," Jade implied.

"I realize that, but I'm not sure where, at the moment."

Agnes knew.

"Oh, they can put them in Mr. Washakie's office. He's got plenty of room in
there and that way I can keep my eyes on it, if you know what I mean,
Mr. Barr."

"Agnes, you're a gem, but what is Washakie going to say?"

"What's all this?"

Speaking of the devil, the high school principal lets himself out of his
office.

Agnes says, without conviction, "The costumes and props for the
Rectangulaire Madrigal Presentation and they're going in 'your'
office. Follow me, folks!"

Mr. Washakie stood there, his mouth flapping like a goldfish, then going
after Agnes, in a conversation of protest, that wouldn't hold water.

"That Agnes is my kind of woman!" Catherine told Barry, as she passed by
him with her box.

Barry smiled. He had another reason to smile, as a guy who looked around
thirty year's old, good looking, blonde, passed very close to him, his arm
grazing his chest.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Barr, is it?"



"Barry Barr and you?"

Balancing the box in one arm, he freed up his right arm, to offer Barry a
handshake.

"Weston McAllister and I'm happy to make your acquaintance, Barry."



"Not, 'thee' Weston McAllister?" Barry gasped.

Weston laughed, then proceeded, "You flatter me, Barry, but call me Wes,
okay?"



"Aren't you still involved in that Shakespeare project in New York,
Weston.. um, Wes?"



"Oh, so you follow the arts, do you?"



"My family and I recently moved here from New Jersey. I often took the boys
into the city to see programs of the arts."



"Oh? Then it looks as if they have the right man for the job here at the
high school."



Barry blushed, then said, "Thank you Wes. Kind of you to say that."

"Tell you what, Barry. I'm on a sort of vacation from the set and have lots
of free time. I'm offering my assistance, if you need a production
assitant."

Barry liked that idea immensely. It would surely take a lot of pressure off
of Alonzo and himself. Not only that, he liked the idea of a 'bigwhig' from
the entertainment world helping out the students. As they say, it would be
'rad'!

"Would you, Wes? The students will be overwhelmed with a real star helping
them out."

"My pleasure."

Barry's as well, as he eyed up Wes' form. Too bad the box stood to block
out much or it.

"I'm sure my partner in crime would agree."



"Oh, you're... um," Wes looked about.

Finding no one in the vicinity, he lowered his voice for his next comment.

"Gay?"

"Ahem!" Barry cleared his throat.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Barry. I just figured since you used the word
partner, it implied... well.."

Barry could clearly see the embarrased status of Wes' outlook. He decided
to fess up and let bygones be bygones.

"Yes, matter of fact I am, Wes, but in this case I jested, referring to the
other advisor working along with me in this endeavor, Alonzo Romano."



"Oh, I see. I'm terribly sorry for having embarrassed you, Barry."



"Don't think anything of it, Wes. It's not something that I'm embarrassed
about. You'll see that the people of this area are most accepting of 'our'
kind."

After smiling, Wes giggled and said, "So, I guess I gave myself away on
that one?"

"You did make yourself obvious, Wes."

A bell sounded.

"Listen, Wes, why don't you set that box down and grab a coffee with me?"

"That would be hospitable of you. Would they have tea?"



"Tea, coffee, some donuts, whatever and I'll introduce you to my 'partner
in crime'!"

Secretly, Wes had wished Barry finished his offer with 'coffee, tea or me'!
Barry actually stole the box out of Wes' arms and proceeded to take it into
Washakie's office. Wes followed him, looking Barry's backside up and down.

"Misssster Barr!" Washakie called out.

"Yes, Mr. Washakie?"



"Ahem! When you started on this project, I had no idea that my own personal
office space would..."



However, Agnes, whom Washakie didn't see huddling behind a group of boxes
piled higher than her 5'9 height, stood up, straigtening herself out and
ready to do battle.

"Stuff it, Washakie! You know as well as I do that you spend too much time
in here anyway. Besides, this is the safest place in the school to keep
these valuable items!"

Barry and Wes giggled at Agnes' blunt approach to putting Washakie in his
place.

"Well, then," fishing for words, Washakie fiddled with his tie and resigned
to, "I suppose this will be alright, temporarily."

In the outer office, Barry thanked Agnes profusely for her intervention.

"Oh, no problem, Mr. Barr," Agnes replied most graciously, eyeing up the
gentlemen with him.

"Agnes, meet Weston McAllister."



"I thought I recognized you, Mr. McAllister," Agnes replied, all goo-goo
eyes.

"A pleasure madam," Wes replied in a most formal manner, as if a sampling
from one of his famous plays, taking Agnes' hand and kissing it.

"Oh my! oh my!"

Barry also informed her, "You'll be seeing a lot of him around here,
Agnes. Mr. McAllister has accepted the position of production manager for
the Madrigal Production."



"I thought I mentioned 'assistant', Barry?"



"You did, Wes," Barry smiled, then continued, "If you have a lot of time on
your hands, we could use some full time capabilities."

"It would be my entire pleasure, thank you."

Agnes, still on cloud nine, remarked, "Oh, we'll have to get you an
office. For now you can use my desk, Mr. McAllister."

Barry pipes up, "What about that room off from the auditorium, Agnes?"



"Perfect, Barry! I'll have the custodians remove Mr. Washakie's supplies
out of there and into the basement, immediately!"

"Uh-oh," Wes replied to Barry, on the side.

"Listen, I've learned by now, that it's not Washakie that really runs this
place!"

The two laughed, as Agnes got on the PA and paged the custodial staff to
the office.

"C'mon, Wes. I'll show you around."

By the last period of the day, Weston McAllister's presence had gotten
around the whole high school. Those involved in the arts and literature
programs, sought out the great thespian for autographs or simply to shake
his hand. Some of the gay guys, of course, wanted to get in his pants. As
the clock approached the three o'clock mark, students began hustling to
their after school activities.

%

Chad rushed on his way towards the gym, passing the cafeteria, which had
been closed since the cooks and other helpers left, around
one-thirty. Suddenly his world blacked out as something had been thrown
over his head. Four arms grabbed his and pulled him inside.

"Hey! What the fuck?"

Dropping his books, his arms had been pulled behind his back. Other than a
few grunts from the ones he struggled with, Chad heard nothing else. He
only sensed the fact that he could be in serious trouble.

"Is that you, Shadow?" Chad called out.

His body came to a halt, his head still covered and arms bound behind him
with the force of what appeared to be two strong people. Without as much as
a word, Chad next felt a fist delivered to his midsection.

"Ugggggggh!" he cried out, as the unexpectant force caused the air to
evacuate his lungs. "Oh fuck!" he cried out at the extent of the punishing
blow.

He couldn't comprehend what was next to follow, until he heard his sweater,
well the one Matty lent him to wear, tear from side to side. Next, he felt
the middle of his buttoned down shirt rip open and the coolness of the room
flooded inside his shirt.

"Shadow, you're going to...uggggh! Ugggh! Ugggh!"

Several punches dug into Chad's gut, as he tried to protest his
treatment. Finally, his captors let go of him and he fell to the floor. He
heard footsteps and then in a feigned vocal attempt, one of them said, "We
don't like faggots on the track team!"

Steven Benson waited around in the gym for Chad. Getting impatient, he
decided to check out the room used for detention. Going past the cafeteria,
he saw three guys from the track team heading his way.

One of them slurred, "What's up 'Ben'-gay?"

"Lay off Jeremy, or I'll have the Coach on you!"

One of the three sideswiped Steven, brushing against him.

"Betcha that felt good, huh Benson?"

Steven didn't say anything, but moved quickly up the hallway to see if Chad
had reported to detention. Getting to the room, monitored by Mr. Dodge, in
most of the gay students' opinions, the best looking teacher at WRHS, Steve
knocked before entering.

"Yes, Mr. Benson?" Mr. Dodge gave his formidable acknowledgement.

"I'm looking for Chad Barr," Steven inquired, his eyes staring him in the
face..

"I received a notice from Mr. Washakie that he's been exempt from detention
for this afternoon."



Looking around for himself, Steven replied, "Okay. Thanks Mr. Dodge."



Mr. Dodge smiled at Steven and then looked down at the book he was
reading. His next impression is that perhaps Chad forgot about the practice
and left.

%

"Oooooh noooo!"

"What's the matter Philip?"



"Aidan, quick! What's today?"



"Monday, why Philip?"



"Oooooh shit! The stuff's not coming til tomorrow!"

"You better not let our dads here you say something like that!"

"Oops!" Philip said, covering his mouth, then proceeded, "Oooh, I'm so let
down!"

Aidan could see that. He put his arm around Philip, as they walked the lane
from the bus stop to their home.

"And I really wanted to hear you play your harp, Philip."



"You did, Aidan?"



"Yeah."

Then, Aidan, not realising how else to give some compensating consolation,
kissed Philip on his cheek.

"Hey, thanks, Aidan," Philip reported back, cheering up some. "You didn't
have to do that for me."

"I know. I wanted to, Philip. I felt sorry for you and since we're lovers,
I wanted to help you."



"It did help, even though I don't understand it."



"That's what I saw Matty do with Chad."



"When they hurted?"



"Yep. They got all kissy and then it made Chad smile."



"Hmm. Maybe it works, since I got happier."



"I think that's what lovers are supposed to do when either one of them gets
hurt or doesn't feel good."



"Why don't you do it again, Aidan and maybe I'll get real cheered up!"

"Want to try it on the lips, Philip?"



"Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!" He replied, just like Steve would do when Barry
instigated a situation calling for the excited response.

"Maybe we better wait til we get inside, though, Aidan."

Aidan agreed with Philip. They decided to go to the solitude of their room
to do it, too, since the downstairs had already filled with the laughter of
the teens, Diego and Frankie, in the kitchen for after school snacktime.

"Ready, Philip?"



"Wait a second. I want this to be good. Let me put my bookbag down."

Aidan did the same.

"Hey, I got an idea, Philip!"



"What, Aidan?"



"Let's take our shirts off and feel our naked bodies touch when we kiss!"

The ten year old's acknowledment came in the form of each grabbing the
undersides of their teeshirts and peeling them up and over their
heads. They smiled at each other, staring face to face.

"So, what's next, Aidan?"



"Put our bodies together and hug. That's what Matty and Chad do."

So, that's what Philip and Aidan did. Philip, though not biologically
related, looked the spitting image of his brother Chad. Blond hair, a bit
on the shaggy side, embracing dark-haired Aidan.

"Ready?"



"I'm ready Aidan. You?"

Slowly, staring each other in the eyes, they puckered up and moved lips in
closer. They touched, drew back and then after a quick smile, put there
lips in perfect symmetry to each other. It's Aidan, whom following Matty's
and Chad's example, moved his arms up, caressing his ten year old partner's
shoulders, drawing him in closer.

"Did you like it, Philip?" Eleven year old Aidan inquired, after they broke
their lip lock.

"Yep, I did Aidan. You?"

"Uh-huh and even my body felt good!"

Separating a little, the two look down at their bodies.

"You have such a nice body, Philip."



"Same with you, Aidan."



"You know I saw some little hairs on Denis' chest?"



"Wow! You did, Aidan? I wonder if he's going to have a lot of hair like
Matty?"



"Yeah, isn't Matty's hairy chest nice?"



"I wish I could touch it sometime."



"I wonder if he would let us?"



"Do you think so, Aidan?"



"Wouldn't hurt to ask. After all, that's what my dad says."



"Right and even Jock said that... um, 'don't go touching another guy's body
unless you ask'!"

"I got an idea."



"What's that Aidan?"



"Why don't you ask your brother if he would think that Matty would let us."



"I don't know Aidan. Do you think Chad would get jellyous?"

"I didn't think of that, Philip."

"But he's my brother. I don't think Chad would mind."

"When are you going to ask him?"



"I want you with me, Aidan."



"I guess it wouldn't be a bad idea if I was. For mortal sport."

"Cool!" Philip replied.

Then they tried out some more of that kissin' stuff!

%

"Ooooh... ugggghhh..." Chad cried to the floor, coughing and holding his
bare stomach.

Steven Benson, heading back to the gym thought he saw a shadow or something
move, through the door window of the mostly darkened cafeteria. Stopping
dead in his tracks, he backed up, took a quick look, then said to himself,
'nah'. It's then he saw a small assignment book, wedged in the
door. Opening the door to retreive it, he heard some groans.

"Hey, somebody in here," he asked, in a mysterious tone.

"Ooooh.. that.... that you, Steven?"

"Chad?"

Steve walked back to the door and felt the wall for the light
switches. Turning around, he saw the horror before him.

"Chad? What happened to you?"

"Help me up, Steven."

Steven arose to the occasion, running across the room, weaving in between
two tables. Boosting Chad up from the floor, he put an arm around him and
helped the sore teen over to a table.

"I'll get some help!"

"No, I'm alright."

As Chad said that, another guy entered the room.

"What the fuck happened to you?"

Chad reflected back on the incident of the moment of getting worked over.

"Don't play innocent, Shadow."

"Me?"



"Yeah, did you put them up to this?"



"Chad, I swear. I don't know what you're talking about."



Their high volume chatter caused another individual to enter the room.

"What's going on here? What happened to you, Chad?"



"Got jumped by a bunch of jerks."

Coach Martin didn't like the sound of that one bit.

"Did you get a look at them, Chad?"



"No," he replied, looking at Shadow, "but," Chad then changed his mind
about pointing the finger at his enemy, saying instead, "whoever it was,
had something to do with the track team. They said they 'didn't like
faggots' on the team."

Right away, Steven says, "Paul Foster and his buddies, but you didn't hear
it from me."

Coach Martin says, "Figures. I thought a warning would help, but I guess
we'll have to take this incident farther."



"Warning? Have they done this before?"

Steven Benson, whom has been consoling Chad, rubbing his bare back with his
hands, offers, "Yeah. The last time, I was their victim."

Chad's head swings around and looks up at Steven.

"How come nobody reported it?"



"I thought that maybe a warning would help," Coach Martin replied, "but I
guess my charitable act didn't phase them."

Shadow says, "You mean you didn't report this, Coach?"

"What do you know, Shadow? You hate my guts. It couldn't been you who did
this," Chad sort of accused.

"Hey, maybe we didn't get along, Chad, but violence. Un-uh, that's not my
style."

"Shadow?"



"Yeah, Coach?"



"Make yourself useful and go get a security guard?"

"You got it."

Shadow seemed to get a 'wakeup call'. Sure, he had some little squabble
with Chad over being a high school preppy, but that was peanuts, compared
to getting beatup over being gay. After all, he was gay too and the other
students knew it. For sure he wouldn't want this to happen to
himself. Panting, he reached the front door of WRHS.

"Hey, um, Coach Martin needs you guys in the cafeteria."

"What's up?" Jack Champlain, the younger of the two guards, twenty-eight,
called out to Shadow.

Not waiting for an answer, the security guard, with his partner, Adam
Keating, headed down the hallway as if sprinting a 5k. Shadow grew weary,
as the two guards left him lagging behind.

"What's up, Coach?" Jack asked.

Adam ended his run in front of Chad.

"You alright, son?" he asked, putting his hand on Chad's shoulder.

"My gut aches."

Coach Martin had begun to tell what he knew, to Jack.

"I think we need to get the cops in on this," Jack reported to the coach.

The other guard, Adam, asked Chad, "Are your parents at home yet?"

"My dad's a teacher here. I don't have any mother," Chad replied.

Steven, having been told the story, said, "She's dead."

Adam showed a look of empathy, replyng, "I'm sorry, Chad."

"Thanks."

"Do you know if your dad left the school yet, Chad?" Adam asks, looking not
only into his eyes.

"I think he has a club meeting today. He's Barry Barr."



"Oh yes! You're a lucky boy, Chad," Adam tells him.

"Thanks," Chad replies, wincing."

Calling across the room, Adam yells to Jack, "I think we better get an
ambulance. This kid is hurting."

"Already done, Adam. Got the cops on the way, too."

Next on the scene, came the principal. Washakie didn't ask any question
that hadn't been thought of. He gave his condolences to Chad and alerted
him to the fact that his father hadn't left school and would be here
momentarily, he assured.

"Chad?"

"Hi dad," is all Chad could think of saying.

"My God! What happened to you?"

Adam stepped out of the way so that Barry could get to Chad. The thirty-two
year old security guard had admired Barry, since the first day he walked
into the school. As others thought, they associated his handsome looks with
that of Dylan McDermott, only a slightly more stocky build. Adam has had
the chance to observe the students reaction to Barry, seeing that he stood
high on the roster as one of the most 'coolest' teachers here at WRHS. Now
he was viewing the fatherly side of Barry. His heart ached to get to know
Barry better.

"Hi. I'm Adam Keating."

Chad said on Adam's behalf, "Mr. Keating helped me out a lot." Seeing
Steven Benson off to the side, outside the circle of authority, Chad also
said, "and Steve's helped me a lot, too!"

"Steve's here?" Barry asked, confusing the name with that of his lover.

"Steven Benson, my track buddy, not... well..." Chad replied, dropping off
the last set of facts about his father's lover.

"Thanks Steve," Barry turned his head, to acknowledge his gratefulness.

"No sweat," Steven replied.

"Who's in charge here?" Came the raspy voice.

"I am," Washakie told him, stepping in the policeman's direction.

However, Coach Martin, as well as Jack Champlain gathered around. A second
cop entered the room. Chad recognized him as Riley Sanchez, his former
boyfriend's lover, whom he's met a couple of times. Riley, seeing Chad,
wandered over by him.

"I hear you got worked over by a couple of students, Chad?"



Some paramedics have Chad stripped down and are wrapping his ribs up. Adam
Keating is standing nearby, making sure everything's copasetic.

"Yeah." But Chad switches the conversation to, "How's Ken'ichi?"



"It didn't work out," Riley informs Chad. "He went to live with his
cousin."



"Gee, I'm sorry to hear about that Riley. I thought you and he were tight."



"Some things just weren't meant to be."



"At least you had been there when Ken needed somebody."

"Yeah, you're right, Chad," Riley concedes. "Maybe that's all he was
supposed to mean to me."

Out of the blue, Adam says, "Happens. We're here to help somebody and then
they move on. That guy wasn't for you, so there's probably the right guy
waiting for you to step into your life. That's the way life's meant to
work."

"And whom might you be?" Riley addressed the man attired as a security
officer.

Chad introduces him, "Oh, Riley, this is Adam Keating. He showed up right
after this happened and has been trying to help me."

Actually, Chad had some good conversation from Adam and liked him
immediately. With some quick thinking, Chad figured it might be a good idea
for the two to meet. Adam's interest confirmed Chad's apprehensions of his
sexual swing.

"Is that so?" Riley said, cracking a small smile.

However, other than shake Adam's hand, Riley didn't get much conversation
in. His partner, Mike Green, who had been in some deep conversation with
Barry, called him over. Before Adam could get another word in with Riley,
he had left the scene.

"So, you know this guy Riley pretty good, Chad?" Adam inquired.

Smiling, even though his gut ached, Chad said, "He's a real nice guy. Want
his phone number?"

"Oh, I don't want to impose, Chad. After all, a man needs his privacy."

Chad says frankly, "Yeah, but I figured you and he could really get it on
together!"

Steve chuckled at Chad's notion. Adam blushed.

"Yeah, okay. I'll take his number, if you have it."

Then he realized that he didn't have his book of addresses.

"It's in my assignment book, but I don't seem to have it with me."



Steven replies, "Oh, here it is. I found it stuck in the cafeteria door."

"Oh great, Steven! Thanks! It has all my numbers in it."

It gave Steven a great deal of joy to hear that from Chad. Their little
camaradrie of chat got interrupted.

Jack Champlain, the other security officer approaches Steven and asks,
"What's this I hear that you received the same treatment as Chad here and
never reported it, Steven?"

"Um... yeah... uh, I kind of got beat up."

"Mind giving the details?"



"Not much to tell actually."



"Wait," Jack said, "the police should be here to take down your statement."



Adam reports, "They already left."



"Well, they'll just have to get their asses back here!"

"Why don't we take Steven down to the police station instead, Jack?"

The twenty-eight year old officer looks at his partner and grins.

"Yeah, okay."

Chad sensed something between the two, guessing that possibly Jack had
caught a glimpse of Adam's attraction to Riley. Apparently he knew Adam is
gay.

"I can drive myself there," Steven offered.

"Um," Jack stalled, "no, wouldn't be right, this being a crime and all."

So, Steven left in the custody of the two security guards. Chad, all
bandaged up, had been given a school sweatshirt to pull over himself, in
place of the ragged leftovers. Barry helped him to the car, with Coach
Martin's help. Being a little perturbed about the coach's decision of
coaxing Steven Benson into not reporting his incident to the police, didn't
set right with him.

"Sorry about what happened with your son."

"Yeah, thanks," Barry replied to the coach, annoyed. "Glad security got
wind of this, so we didn't face another coverup!"

Coach Martin stood there in the parking lot, embarrased to hell, as Barry
drove away. He wasn't sure how all this was going to turn out. Possibly his
job would be on the line. In fact he's sure that's how it would go. Turning
back to the school, he had one thing on his mind. That of now righting the
wrong. He marched right into the gym, down the hallway and connected with
the lockerroom.

"What's up coach?"

"This is what's up, Seaford!"

Not the main instigator, but one of the perpetrators, as he saw it, Coach
Martin's fist connected with the student's jaw, sending him over the bench
and landing against the set of lockers. The brief-clad senior slid down the
metal surface, sitting on his ass. His head sagged to his chest.

"Fagan?"



"Yeah, coach?"



"Don't look so innocent!"



"Of what?"

"I know you were in on working over Chad Barr."



"Hey, just letting him know that....ugh!"

Fagan doubled over as Coach Martin delivered the punishing fist to the
stripe down the teen's stomach.

As he held the jock up by his head of hair, he said, "Don't like gay's
huh?"

The second punch did him in. He lay on the floor, one hand under him,
breathing heavily.

"Now for the real fucking bastard!" Coach said to himself, walking in the
showers fully clothed.

"Coach, what are you doing?"

"Performing justice, Foster. I warned you about your homophobic attitude!"

Paul Foster, whom Coach Martin readied to appoint as lead of the track
team, stood a couple of inches shorter. When Coach Martin zoomed in to take
his first shot, Foster stepped to his left. Coach slipped on the tiles and
fell against the wall, his hands expertly catching him. He turned to face
Foster.

"C'mon Coach, you can't do anything."



"Wrong, Foster. I'm going to do what somebody should've done a long time
ago!"

Foster was in a panic. He couldn't leave the shower without confronting the
now out of control superior. Martin rushed him, but knew enough now that
Foster would try to pull some dodging act. His assumptions correct, Martin
grabbed Foster's arm and swung him about, slapping his nude, wet body up
against the wall. He could hear the sound of flesh against tile, as
Foster's teen chest and stomach made contact with the slimy wall. At that
point, Martin put the teen jock into a full nelson. With full force, he
pushed his knee up against the track jock's ass, then slid it down his
crack. His knee made contact with the wall, between Foster's legs, pressing
the well developed teen testicles up against the wall.

"Akkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!" Foster screamed out, as his balls became
crushed.

"You think you're so different, Foster! Maybe I have to show you just how
good it feels to be 'gay'!"

He let Foster slip down the wall and to the floor, in a kneeling position,
his hands going to his crotch. Coach Martin pulled him up, one hand under
his pit and the other hand turned him, facing him and planted his fist in
his gut. Eighteen year old Paul Foster pleaded in vain, as Coach Martin
forced him out of the shower. He wiped the towel cart clean, then threw
Foster's body over it. He kicked the teen jock's legs apart. Then, after
lowering his gymshorts and briefs, the coach took his cock in hand and
began firming it up. He didn't have much problem in doing so, since his
mind had been on the hot body while he extracted his vengeful punishment.

"What the fuck you think you're doing? You can't do that!"

Coach Martin looked up to see Albert Fagan standing there in the nude,
almost fully recovered. He went for the coach, but Coach Martin was faster
and more powerful over the track team member.

"You know you're right, Fagan?"  Coach replied, holding Foster's teammate
with an arm behind his back. "Why should I take all the pleasure away from
you?"

Reaching around in front of Fagan, Coach Martin began stroking cock. Not
his own!

"What're you doing, Coach? Fuckin' leave my cock alone!"

Reaching over the jock, slightly shorter build, he spit onto the teen's
cock. The jock winced, as he struggled to get away, but Coach's strong arm
kept Fagan's body in controlled bondage. Fagan didn't want to watch, but
had no choice, as Coach Martin inched the seventeen year old jock closer to
Foster's ass.

"Nooo... nooooo...don't coach" Fagan screamed out, as he felt the tip of
his cock touch between Foster's asscheeks.

At this moment, Foster's heavy breathing began to make him gain some
conscious frame of mind. Coach Martin sensed this. Pressing his own body up
against Fagan's back, he forced Fagan's cock all the way into Foster's
chute. Both boys screamed like hell, as Fagan's forced shaft dug all the
way into Foster's ass canal.

"Akkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!" Foster yelled out, arching his back, his hands
trying to push himself up, but only to more so impale his ass on Fagan's
cock.

Coach pulled both of Fagan's arms behind his back and used them as a tool
to pull Fagan back a bit, then pressing his pubes against Fagan, jamb his
cock back into Foster's ass.

"Get outta my ass, you fuckin' faggot!" Foster called out.

"I can't," Fagan shouted back, "he's forcing my dick up you, man!"

Fagan had mixed thoughts on his mind at this point. He didn't want to give
into the feeling of fucking his best friend's ass, but true to his own
senses, getting his cock massaged by the warm ass chamber felt downright
fuckin' awesome!

"Feel good, Fagan?" Coach tried to get him to admit.

"No, you bastard!" Fagan lied.

Coach Martin knew he lied too. After all, it's been two minutes since he
stopped forcing Fagan to fuck Foster's ass. His body remained in contact,
but it's Fagan that's been doing all the in and out motions.

"Fagan, what the fuck you fuckin' doing? Foster, you faggot!"

Coach looked up to see the jock he slammed into the lockers, holding his
head and staring at the spectacle. The jock didn't look in any condition
for fighting, which gave him a good idea. Slowly backing away from Fagan,
Coach Martin smiled. He knew that Fagan was enjoying himself immensely. In
fact Foster had just stopped complaining about getting his ass
reamed. Completely detached, Coach shucked his shorts and briefs, as he
made his way over towards Chris Seaford, the third jock that he assumed had
been in on Chad's workover.

"Jealous, Seaford?"



"What the fuck you talking about, Coach?"

Martin didn't let him wait to find out. Seaford stood, propped up with his
shoulder against the locker. Coach had no problem in subduing Seaford. A
bit swaying, he stood behind Seaford, wove an arm under his, placed an arm
around his chest and then with his right hand utilizing Seaford's jock
strap as a handle, forced him over behind Fagan. Feeling his mind clouded
and without the gym locker to lean on, Seaford fell over onto Fagan's back.

"What the fuck?" Fagan called out.

He looked up over his shoulder. It dawned on him that he could pull out of
Foster and break the chain between himself and Coach Martin, but his cock
felt so fuckin' hot in Foster's ass. In fact, Coach's and Fagan's eyes met
for a moment and Fagan cracked a slight smile.

"Told you you're a faggot, Fagan and now Seaford's ready to show me true
self!"

"You... you're not going to..." Fagan's grin disappeared as he realized the
situation of what his own ass was about to undergo.

"How do you think Foster feels, Fagan?"

Fagan's head switched around to Foster's body under him. He then realized
that Foster didn't protest. In fact, Fagan got a totally rad signal from
Foster.

"He... he's pressing his ass up against my cock!" Fagan found. He then
accused, "Foster, you're a fuckin' faggot!"

Coach Martin, grinning says, "Just think about what that makes you, Fagan?"

At this point Fagan didn't care what term applied. His main desire was to
get the sides of his cock hot-massaged. He didn't even think about wanting
to stop. One thing he felt about his impending own fuck, he knew Seaford
had a small dick. Foster and he would often tease Seaford about it.

"Ready, Fagan?" Coach Martin asked.

He still had his arm around Seaford's chest. Seaford's jock strap lay
around his ankles. His cock, in Martin's hand had inflated to full arousal.

"Hmmm... nice size," Coach Martin said, not that he meant it, but it makes
for nice words, for a forced entry.

Fagan had stopped his hard fucking action, slowing to pulling out an inch
or two and pushing back in. He, at first, looked over his shoulder, when he
felt Seaford's cock at his ass, but resigned to not watch.

"Eeeeeehhhhhhhhhhhhoooooooohhhhhfuuuuuuuck!" Fagan cried out as Coach
Martin pressed Seaford's cock into his ass.

At this point Coach Martin was feeling the 'what the heck' attitude. With
the jock gangbang in progress, his own cock had secreted enough fluid to
lube up his own shaft. Hard as a rock, after lusting over the three, he
moved his cock straight into Seaford's ass. Unlike Seaford entering Fagan's
ass, Coach Martin's matured 8.5c would be spelling sheer torture for
Seaford's tight assrim.

"Akkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkooooooooohshiiiiiiiiiiiiiitooooooooohfuuuuuuckakkkkkkkkkkkkk!"
Seaford screamed, as Coach Martin impaled him on his cock.

Coach's actions at slowly feeding his hard shaft into Seaford's teen ass,
made Fagan and Foster turn heads to watch. Then after a few minutes, the
two turned to their own business.

Coach smiled when he heard Fagan say, "This feels so fuckin' hot!"

Foster said, "Fagan, we're not faggots!"

"Oh man, Foster, it feels soooo fuckin' hot. I might just turn to the 'dark
side'! Coach?"

"Yeah, Fagan?"

"How about letting me take Seaford's place?"

"'My' pleasure, Fagan!"

Coach laughed, then pulled out of Seaford's ass. He immediately lifted him
off of Fagan's back, pulling his cock out of his ass. As Fagan turned to
face Coach, his cock glistened with Foster's assjuices.

"Man, Coach Martin. I think I owe Chad and Steven a 'big' apology!"

"You going to fit your cock in Seaford's ass or do I have to force it,
Fagan?"



Fagan put on a big grin. Doing what Coach Martin would have done, Fagan
guided Seaford's lubed shaft into Foster's ass and then split Seaford's ass
with one hand, said, "Ready, buddy?" and slammed his cock home.

"Ready to feel what a real fuck is like, Fagan?"



"Not really, but I guess I deserve something after fisting Chad Barr's
gut!"

Coach Martin showed some leniency. After all, this wouldn't be considered
punishment for Fagan.

%

New warmup for the track team!  continued.........


       Copyright 2005 T. Chase McPhee All Rights Reserved.

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