Date: Sat, 29 Dec 2007 06:05:38 -0800 (PST)
From: Fabius Maximus <cunctatorgold@yahoo.com>
Subject: Humiliating the Swim Coach/m/M, Reluctant, Humil.

Humiliating the Swim Coach
Cunctator
m/M, Reluctant, Humil.

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. None of the
characters or events herein are based on real people, either
living or dead. It was produced for the entertainment of
ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If
you are not an adult, or if reading stories of a sexual
nature upsets you, do not read any further! By reading
further, you certify that you have accessed/requested access
to this material wilfully, and that you are an adult 21
years of age or older. You also certify that to your
knowledge, this material does not offend the standards in
your area, nor is it in violation of any of local, state, or
federal law.

I stole most of this from an old friend, but she told me she
didn't mind at all.

Coach Paul Willis should have been a happy man.  After all,
he had placed well in two state championship swim meets when
in college.  He had earned an MA in Sports Administration.
He had almost eleven years of practical experience teaching
middle school swimming.  He held a current certificate in
CPR and lifesaving techniques.  He knew the middle school
swimming rules backwards and forwards.  He was thoroughly
conversant with all the DIAA regulations.  He was an expert
at First Aid.  Two of his students had even won state
medals.  Yes, Coach Willis should have been a happy man.
And he had been until Jared came into his life last fall.
Paul Willis knew Jared was going to be trouble from the
first day the fifteen year old signed up to be on the swim
team.  The boy was attractive enough; perhaps too
attractive.  And he was certainly sure of himself, with that
smart-ass sneer on his face.  But Jared's attitude wasn't
the main problem for Coach Willis.  The main problem was
that Coach Willis had begun to have feelings toward Jared
right from the first day, and those feelings were totally
inappropriate.
Coach Willis had not wanted to stare at Jared, all wet and
naked in the locker room shower after that first practice.
But something about the boy's body pulled the coach's eyes
to him like a magnet.  Jared was tall for his age, and
slender, and his cock was long and prominent.  As he stared
at Jared's cock, Coach Willis found himself saying to
himself the word "kissable."  Paul Willis had never in all
his years thought of a cock as "kissable", but he could not
get the word out of his brain when he looked at Jared's
cock.
Jared had caught Coach Willis staring at him.  But instead
of being embarrassed that his coach was looking at his cock,
Jared just smirked up knowingly at Paul.  And when their
eyes met, Coach Willis felt a hot surge of erotic sensation,
and he knew that he wanted to feel more of the same.  He
felt deeply humiliated that one of his students had such a
salacious effect on him, but he couldn't break eye contact
until he was sure that Jared knew exactly the effect he was
having on his coach.  Jared certainly knew it too, and over
the next four months, he never let an opportunity go by to
set the hook a little deeper.  So that by the return of the
boys after Christmas break, Coach Willis just had to find
out just how "kissable" Jared's cock would be no matter the
cost.
At the regional swim meet held in late January, Coach Willis
watched excitedly from the side of the pool as his fifteen-
year- old star swimmer Jared dove into the pool and began to
sprint for the other end chased by six other middle school
boys, each in his own competition lane.  As he observed the
lithe, athletic young boy racing the length of the Olympic
size pool, Paul could sense the incipient return of that
nagging itch: that wonderful, horrible nagging itch deep
inside his most intimate parts.  As he surrendered once
again to the wonderful, horrible compulsion to stare at
Jared's young male body and to imagine the unspeakable
things he imagined, part of Paul longed for the nagging itch
to continue to grow inside him, and part of him was so
desperately ashamed of the commanding hold it had over him.
Although Paul was mortified to admit it to himself, the
truth of the matter was that he derived quite an explicit
thrill each time he watched that captivating young teen boy
glide so sensuously through the water.  And even though he
was Jared's swim coach, Paul 's thrill had absolutely
nothing to do with the excitement of the competition.  As
humiliating as it was for him, Paul could do nothing but
acknowledge that the thrill he felt was an erotic thrill: an
erotic nagging itch deep inside him: a dark, sinful thrill,
a thrill he both loved and despised.
Paul didn't claim to understand the causality of his sinful
nagging itch.  Actually, he really didn't want to know the
true cause.  All he did know was that there was just
something fascinatingly overpowering and commanding about
the way Jared appeared to him in his tight, wet, revealing
swimsuit: displaying his fresh, young, willowy body, teasing
him, tormenting him, implicitly demanding that he fall to
his knees and worship him; his hard, "kissable" cock
pressing against his swimsuit, flashes of a smooth bubble
bottom that seduced him into wanting to get down on his
knees and lick it with his hungry tongue, long sexy young
legs scissoring in the water that drew his salacious
attention to the tantalizing spot where they joined.  There
was just something about the sight of this young swimmer boy
so wanton and perverse which burrowed very deep inside Paul
's head and made him so, so hot. Jared's fresh, smooth body
evoked such lewd, submissive images: such erotic,
subservient possibilities; such humiliating scenarios.
A part of Paul truly didn't want to feel that way at all:
hated the nagging itch for its power over him.  He knew in
his heart of hearts how wrong it was to look at Jared with
such debased thoughts whirling around in him mind.  He
fought as hard as he could against the nagging itch every
time it began to overcome him.  He recognized that it was
sick and immoral and simply horrible to think that way about
this young teenage boy. But, time after time, when Jared
swam, Paul became literally consumed by those depraved
longings for the nagging itch and how sinfully good it felt
to him to be in its grip.  Then, despite himself, he
surrendered totally, overcame both his conscience and his
fear.  He knew, if given half a chance, he would do exactly
what his star swimmer asked.  He would do anything.
Now, Paul shamefacedly felt his cock begin to become erect,
as if it were early morning and he had to pee really badly
while he watched Jared sprint his final lap down the pool to
score yet another victory in the regional swim meet.  And,
with Jared's sudden triumph overcoming everything else in
him mind, Paul became himself again once more, a swimming
coach with a winning swimmer, and the burning itch that had
started his cock to rise receded. Then, for a time, Paul was
no longer the shameful, subservient, fantasy-ridden, soul,
powerless to resist the nagging itch.  He was nothing more
or less than Jared's swim coach, clapping and cheering.  His
sheer happiness at his star swimmer's performance allowed
Paul to conquer the wanton sway of the nagging itch, and he
cheered and clapped as hard as he could as Jared climbed
lithely out of the pool and into the towel-wrapped embrace
of his teammates.  Paul reflected upon how truly proud he
now was of Jared and all the hard work and time and effort
he had put in for the past semester getting to this moment.
It was true that from the beginning, the young boy had
displayed an enormous natural talent that made him simply
unbeatable in the freestyle in his age group and gender.
Paul observed proudly now completely unfettered from the
nagging itch he had become as the other boys from the team
crowded around his star swimmer, screaming, patting his
bottom, congratulating him on yet another victory.  And this
one was the final heat of the day: the championship.  Jared
had won the top medal for his region, and was a shoe in to
win the state championship to be held in three weeks,
barring accident or injury. Wow. Imagine.  His star swimmer:
boys' state middle school freestyle swimming champion after
only one semester of competition.  It was almost too good to
be true.
 Paul was so happy for Jared's success.  He found himself
out of the clutches of the nagging itch completely.  Paul
was suddenly totally free and at peace.  This was bliss. And
him star swimmer's win had made his bliss possible; had
driven the nagging itch away.  But then, out of the tail of
his eye, he caught sight of Jared's face.  There was that
knowing, condescending smirk when Jared knew that coach
Willis was looking at him.  Jared's tight, wet swimsuit
revealed the outline of his "kissable" cock and the nagging
itch made itself known to Paul Willis once again.  Flashes
of erotic images suddenly flooded wildly through Paul's
numbed mind: unbelievable images of him, kneeling naked by
the side of the pool with his head bowed and his eyes
lowered like some kind of perverted supplicant while the
cruel young teen Jared giggled lewdly at his plight and
forced him to do all sorts of unthinkable, sick things to
his adolescent body while his young teammates stood around
and watched in torrid fascination.  Paul didn't want to give
in.  He wanted to keep Jared's victory central in him mind
rather than these sordid images that gnawed at him.  Paul
struggled within himself to rid his mind of these wanton
fantasies, but the nagging itch would have none of it.
Deeper and deeper he sank into the pit.  His breathing
became shallow and a film of tiny droplets of perspiration
broke the surface of his skin.  Only the earsplitting din of
an announcement about the next swim meet blearing out of the
field house's mind-piercing PA system jarred Paul back to
his conscious self.  For a while once more, the nagging itch
subsided within Paul, and he became again for a moment what
he so desperately wanted to remain; the proud coach of a
successful star swimmer.
Coach Willis decided that if he showered with his swim team
that day, that Jared would surely do something to embarrass
and humiliate him even more.  So he decided not to shower
but just to wait for the boys to get dressed.  While he
waited anxiously for Jared and his teammates to shower and
change into street clothes, Paul literally forced himself to
stop thinking about the sleek, sexy swimmer that was Jared
and to make amiable and vapid small talk with some of the
parents of the other boys on the team.  Truth to tell, Paul
was more than a little bit shy and reserved in his manner,
but his star swimmer's competitive success and the good-
natured well wishing and congratulations from the parents
drew him out of himself and away from his sordid obsession:
at lease during those intervals when the nagging itch wasn't
strong in him.  In his more introspective moments, Paul
admitted to himself that he had been living his life
vicariously through Jared for more than four months and that
the boy's swimming triumphs gave him an opportunity to bask
in his star swimmer's reflected success.  And Paul knew deep
down that the reason for this was very simple.  Paul
believed deep down that, no matter what he had accomplished
in his life that he had achieved no real successes of his
own to bask in.  Aside from his time training young
swimmers, Paul had withdrawn from everything except Jared's
competitions.  Paul's need to feel worthwhile through the
dazzling success of Jared's swimming career was almost as
overpowering as the depraved nagging itch he felt whenever
he ogled the young teen Jared and fantasized about the
humiliating tricks the boy would force him to perform for
his own cruel amusement.  The irony was that it was Jared
and Jared's swimming successes that kept Paul from giving in
to the nagging itch altogether.  Jared's coach desperately
clung to his star swimmer's athletic victories as if they
were some kind of magic talisman that would shield him from
the possibility of actually doing all those horrid, sick
things he fantasized about when the nagging itch had its
hold over him.  Despite those knowing smirks, and despite
all the little cruel humiliations and hungers he had had to
endure at Jared's hands over the past four months, Paul
believed that Jared was pure, really.  And Jared's purity
restrained Paul from doing those humiliating, submissive
things that he wanted to do.
Because of his desperate need to feel some true worth in his
drab, purposeless life, and because of his need to believe
in Jared and what he was doing with his swimming
competition, which was so central to that need, Paul could
almost be accused of doting on Jared.  He knew for a
certainty that Jared's swimming success was keeping him
grounded in reality and away from capitulating to the
nagging itch.  Jared's abounding mastery at swim meets meant
that his retiring coach had the much needed opportunity to
be lauded as the successful coach of the champion.  Like
most humans, Paul needed desperately to feel successful,
even if his success was confined to being merely the coach
of the winner. The only problem was that every time Paul
watched Jared at another swim meet he provided himself with
yet another opportunity for the nagging itch to have it's
depraved way with him. While Jared's string of swimming
victories helped Paul tremendously in his fight against the
nagging itch, the constant exposure to the scantily clad,
alluring young boy merely inflamed the nagging itch to
reassert itself constantly.  So, by this point, Paul was
almost beside himself with nervous energy and frustration as
a result of the erotic tensions this situation produced. But
soon, the swimming season would be over, and Paul would no
longer be exposed to the temptations that the nagging itch
hungered for.  He looked forward to that more than he knew.
After about half an hour Paul realized that Jared was
certainly taking his time getting ready to go home.  He was
just about to go over to the boys' changing room when he
spied his star swimmer.  Jared practically glowed with a
radiant pink color to his cheeks and Paul could clearly see
that his breath was coming in quick little pants. Paul
wondered to himself how Jared had sustained the euphoria of
winning the regional championship for over half an hour, but
lost the thought when his star swimmer ran up to him and
gave him a big bear hug.  Paul, though pleased, was a little
taken aback at Jared's demonstration of public affection.
Why his star swimmer had even kissed him on the mouth
surreptitiously and slyly before pulling away and giggling
knowingly.
"Coach, Coach.  Did you see me swim," Jared gushed with
happy enthusiasm.
"Of course I saw you swim, Jared.  I couldn't take my eyes
off you."
Jared giggled and smirked.
"I know, Coach.  I was good.  I was the best.  Wasn't I,
Coach?  I sure smoked that Cory Daniels from Ridgevale
Middle.  He's such a bee-atch, and I wanted to beat him most
of all."
 Paul was somewhat stunned by Jared's rather vulgar choice
of words, but decided not to correct him in front of his
teammates who was standing there hanging on every word. Paul
shifted his attention away from Jared long enough to collect
his thoughts.  Paul began to feel the nagging itch literally
gnawing at him vitals.  For Paul, Jared was the very kind of
boy who inflamed him nagging itch almost to total
distraction.  Paul found his gaze being luridly drawn to a
lewd appraisal of the boy's young body. Jared's eyes were
deep blue and surprisingly compelling.  In fact, when Paul
tried to re-focus he found it difficult to tear his own gaze
away from him.
As Paul tried his best to break eye contact, a struggling
part of his mind wondered as it had been wondering for four
months why it was that THIS boy's slender young body was
suddenly so much more fascinating to him than any other's?
Paul understood clearly that there was something more than
mildly perverse about his driving compulsion to ogle this
young teen boy.  He hoped against hope that Jared would not
take advantage of his unwholesome interest.  Paul was
certain by the supercilious expression on the boy's face
that he could sense the needy hunger in the coach's eyes.
And why couldn't he succeed in breaking eye contact with the
adolescent boy no matter how hard he tried?
Suddenly, Paul felt Jared turn his smirking eyes away.
"Coach, can you take me back by school with you.  I need to
get my gym clothes out of my locker so I can wash them."
Before he could think, Paul said, "sure, Jared.  I'd be glad
to."
On the surface, it was a perfectly innocent question.  But
there was an edge to Jared's tone of voice that Paul
couldn't quite rationalize away.  For his part, Paul found
himself curiously unwilling to think up a reason to refuse
Jared's request for a ride back to school.  After all, Paul
told himself, taking Jared with him would give him more time
to spend with the boy.
As they walked away from poolside, Paul found that he was
getting hungry for the chance to be spending time alone with
Jared.  He wondered if Jared would take advantage of their
time alone together in the car to torment his coach some
more.  He half hoped so.
Jared smiled superciliously up at Paul. Then he suddenly
looked distracted as if he might be changing his mind about
wanting to ride back to school with his coach.
 Paul looked at Jared with a perplexed expression on his
face, hoping that Jared had not changed his mind at the last
minute.  Seeing his coach's distress, Jared smiled an
enigmatic little smile.  Paul suddenly heard a little
suppressed giggle escape from Jared's lips.   "Taking me
back to school, Coach would be veeeerrrrry helpful."
That statement brought another little giggle from Jared.
Paul was becoming increasingly confused.  But now he could
see no excuse not to take Jared back to school, where he
wanted to retrieve him dirty gym clothes to wash for the
coming week.  And they would be together alone in Coach
Willis' car.
"OK, Jared.  Let's go," Paul said with as much good cheer as
he could muster as they arrived at the field house main exit
doors.
The Coach and Jared departed the field house and found Paul
's car in the parking lot.  Jared immediately headed for the
passenger side door and climbed in.  Paul got behind the
wheel and closed his door and buckled his seatbelt.  Jared
did likewise.
Paul pulled out of the parking lot onto the main road, and
concentrated on his driving; allowing himself the occasional
sideways glance over at his young passenger.  There was just
something so hot about Jared's young body that demanded
Paul's attention.  But Jared's coach stopped allowing
himself even this surreptitious little treat when he got on
the Interstate highway that would take them back to school.
That's why he was so startled to feel the totally unexpected
touch of Jared's left hand on him bare right knee right
below the leg hole of his gym shorts. Paul almost swerved
the car off the Interstate as he anxiously darted his eyes
away from the road long enough to look in Jared's direction.
He saw that the boy was looking straight ahead as if nothing
at all was going on.  Paul engaged the cruise control and
tried furtively to move his leg away from Jared's grasp.
But the fifteen-year- old boy sitting next to him only
squeezed his knee all the harder so that he couldn't get
away.  The more Paul struggled to move his knee, the harder
Jared squeezed it.  As this silent and surreptitious battle
for possession of Paul 's knee progressed, Paul began to
feel a totally unwanted jerking in his cock.  His balls were
aching and commencing to itch and burn like fire ants were
chewing on his scrotum.  The nagging itch was back inside
him full force.  It was nearly overpowering enough to affect
his driving.  What Jared was doing to him was turning Paul
on so hard. Just the feel of the boy's hand on his knee was
driving the older man to distraction.  The lurid fantasy
world he had been flirting with for four months was suddenly
turning real.  Jared was holding onto Paul's leg in such a
manner that the older man couldn't get away from him.
Paul 's awareness that Jared had total physical control of
his leg and wouldn't let go melded with the anxiety of
fearing that Jared might just laugh at his hunger.  The
tension that resulted made Paul itch and burn even more than
before.  This was just too unreal.  Were Paul 's sinful
fantasies finally going to come true?
There was absolute silence in the car as it sped down the
Interstate toward school.  Paul just didn't know what to do
except pray that Jared wouldn't let go of his leg and laugh
at him.  Nothing remotely like this had ever happened to
Paul before in real life.  Why in the world had Jared placed
his hand on Paul 's bare knee like that in the first place?
And why wouldn't he allow the older man to move his leg
away?  And why did Jared's lewd touch make Paul 's cock and
balls itch and burn so?
Paul attempted one last time stealthily to pull his leg away
from Jared's grasp as he turned his head slightly to look at
the teenager sitting beside him.  In response, Jared gave
Paul 's knee a painful squeeze.
"No," Jared said forcefully right out loud, and just as
suddenly, Paul stopped struggling.  The sound of the teenage
boy's stern command compelled Paul simply to freeze in his
seat just like a field mouse discovered by a hawk.  When
Paul froze, Jared took full advantage and immediately began
to slide his exploring hand well up the older man's leg
along his naked inner thigh.  There was certainly no
mistaking Jared's ultimate goal and his determination to
reach it.
Paul began to shiver as the fear of being caught by some
onlooker who could see down into his car battled against an
all-consuming compulsion to just allow Jared to have his
lewd way with him.  The nagging itch was stronger than ever
now.
Paul was also beginning to feel the first distinct pangs of
pure, unadulterated panic when his Interstate exit
interchange suddenly loomed up ahead.  Like an automaton, he
veered and steered the car somehow onto the off ramp.  And,
as he did, Jared stealthily removed his hand from the older
man's thigh and placed it silently in his own lap as if
absolutely nothing had happened. Paul breathed a hugh sigh,
which was part relief at being freed from Jared's groping
hand and part disappointment at being stopped just before
the young boy would have succeeded in touching his most
intimate places. Paul allowed his fearful glance once more
to fall upon his young passenger.  Jared was still looking
straight ahead.  But this time, he had the merest Cheshire
Cat smile on his lips.
As he turned onto the surface street that went by the middle
school, Paul had begun to wonder if he had only imagined
Jared's hand on his leg and the boy's forceful command that
he stop struggling.  Was that possible?  But the
supercilious smirk on Jared's face stopped him wondering.
It had happened.  It really had.  But what did it all mean.
Soon, a visibly shaken Paul pulled into the drive of the
middle school.  The parking lot was absolutely empty, which
was unusual, even for a Saturday.  It seemd that even the
security and the custodial staffs weren't around at all that
day.  Paul wondered about that as he parked over next to the
gym.
"OK Jared.  Let's, go get your dirty clothes and then I'll
take you home so you can get started on your washing."
Paul, who was still trying his best to sort out recent
events, sing- songed his request with an air of false
cheerfulness.  Blinding fear rose up in him and he suddenly
wanted to get Jared out of his car and out of his life as
soon as possible.  He didn't really want his sick fantasy
world turning real after all.  He had too much at stake.
Paul didn't know what Jared's sick little game was, but he
knew that the boy genuinely scared him.  Truth to tell,
Jared scared him and he excited him all at the same time.
But the fear was momentarily overwhelming the excitement.
Jared opened his door but did not get out of the car.
Before Paul could make a comment, Jared spoke up.
"Coach, why don't you let me in the gym and come with me to
the locker room?"
Paul gulped.   Something deep inside told him that he
really, really didn't want to be alone with Jared, even for
the few minutes it would take to get his dirty clothes out
of the locker room.
"I just want to get my clothes and go home," said Jared.
Jared would surely wonder if his coach refused to take this
quite reasonable step of going into the gym with him.  And
Paul didn't want Jared to have any cause to wonder one bit
about anything.  And besides, Jared had once again
stealthily placed his hand lightly on Paul 's knee and had
given it a little encouraging squeeze.  Paul felt his cock
twitch at the touch of this fifteen year old's fingertips.
The nagging itch began to grow once more.  What might happen
once they were alone together inside the gym with the door
closed behind them?
"OK," Paul said resignedly as he opened his car door.  He
waited patiently for Jared to remove his hand, and Jared
finally obliged him with an accompanying giggle.
Jared was already standing by the outer door to the gym by
the time Paul got to him.  The older man hung back, as if
Jared were some sort of evil spirit whom he didn't want to
get too close to.  Jared turned toward Paul and smirked a
knowing little smirk as his coach opened the heavy metal
plated outer door.  He pushed the door open, went inside,
and beckoned for Paul to go in after him, and Paul
reluctantly followed his fifteen-year-old guide inside into
the cavernous gym, shadow illuminated by the high windows
set above the retracted bleachers.
As soon as the outer door slammed shut behind them, Jared
reached out and took both of Paul's hand in his. Paul let
out a little moan of surprise and tried to pull his hands
back.  But Jared held on tightly.
"Come on. Don't be so shy around me, Paul, " Jared said with
a wicked giggle in his voice.
Paul felt himself weaken at the sound of the boy's taunting
words.  He felt an added thrill knowing that the fifteen-
year-olod was calling him by his first name.  And he was
letting Jared do it, too, without any argument.
"You really don't want to be shy around me, Paul.  Do you?"
Paul immediately stood stark still at the sound of the boy's
command.  There was a persuasive and compelling tone to
Jared's voice that stopped Paul from trying to pull away.
Paul gazed fearfully at the young boy, who was smiling up
ever so sweetly.
"You weren't a bit shy when you were looking me over at the
pool today, Paul.  Were you?"
 Paul tried to clear him head.
"I wasn't looking at you like that, Jared," Paul said with
the merest trace of a whimper in his tone.
"Oh YES you were, Paul.  You couldn't take your eyes off my
cock, and my butt, and my legs.  Go on.  Admit it.  I don't
mind."
Paul shook him head 'no' even as he knew deep inside that
Jared's accusation about him was absolutely true.
"I didn't want to look at you like that," Paul whined.  He
just wanted to get away from Jared as soon as he could.  Or
did he?
Jared let go of Paul 's left hand, held his right hand
tightly in his left, and with his right he rounded on the
older man and slapped his face just as hard as he could.
Paul cried out from the sudden, unexpected pain and tried to
pull away.  But Jared's grip was very strong.
"Don't EVER lie to me, Paul," Jared shouted right into the
older man's face.
"You WERE ogling me today at the pool just like the dirty
little submissive faggot coach slut we both know you are.
Weren't you?  You were perving my body when you thought I
wouldn't notice.  You just couldn't keep your faggy eyes off
me: off my yummy cock, off my balls, off my bottom, off my
legs.  Could you, slut?"
Paul began to flush with embarrassment.  He HAD been eyeing
the young boy in a very salacious way.  And Jared knew it.
And now Jared had him all confused and stirred up.  Paul was
suddenly in touch with the fact that Jared's harsh actions
and accusing words were making his insides quiver with
alternating waves of cold fear and fevered excitement.  For
the second time, Paul denied what Jared obviously knew was
true.
"No, Jared.  I wouldn't do something like that."
Jared raised his hand as if to slap Paul once more.  The
older man cringed away from the expected blow.
"Weren't you, Paul?  I know your type.  Oh yes I do.  Do you
think you're the first grown up coach slut to look at me
like that?  Do you think you're the first one I've dealt
with?  All us boys know how much you little coach faggy
sluts like to look at us.  We all know what is going through
your slutty little faggy minds: what you want us to do to
you; what you want us to make you do.  We know how dirty you
all are."
 Paul lowered his head as Jared slowly put his hand down by
his side.  The young boy knew that he didn't have to slap
the truth out of Paul any more.  The older man was beginning
to break.  Jared smiled.
"Now, weren't you perving me, Paul?"
Paul began to shake all over.
"I don't know, Jared.  Honestly I don't."
Jared solicitously patted the older man's cheek.
"Poor Puppypoo Paul.  You're just so out of touch with your
true feelings.  You poor little faggy slut.  Poor little
Coach Puppypoo.  You're so confused.  But I know what you
want.  You want to be Jared's good boy.   Don't you?"
Paul began to shiver as Jared reached out and began rubbing
the older man's shoulder through his tight T-shirt: slowly,
very slowly. Paul knew that his confusion and his shame at
being confronted with the fact that he had ogled Jared at
the pool were somehow exciting the young teenage boy
standing in front of him in a way that he did not
understand.  That lack of comprehension made Paul shiver all
the more.
Paul tried as hard as he could to overcome his confusion,
but Jared wasn't interested in allowing him time to sort it
all out.
"Admit it, Paul.  You do like looking at me in my tight
swimsuit that shows off my cock.  You know you get yourself
off on looking at my tuff young body and thinking all those
really nasty thoughts you think: thoughts about what you
want me to make you do to my tuff young body.  But you know
how dirty and wrong it is to think that way, and it scares
you.  It scares you so bad.  And, in spite of the fact that
it scares you, you still really yearn for me to make you do
all of those sick things that you think about.  You get
yourself all soppy wet at the tip of your faggy little cock
imagining the wicked little things that a nasty young boy
like me could make you do.  And you know deep down that
there's something just so perverted about all that.  And
that is such a part of the turn on for you."
Paul began to shake uncontrollably as he listened to Jared's
words: words that described him perfectly.
"I can see by the expression on your face, Paul my little
coach slut, that you are beginning not to care at all about
how perverted it all is.  Are you, Paul?  You just want to
be Jared's good boy.  That's all you want in this whole wide
world.  Now that I've told you that I know all about you.
You know deep down that I can do any little thing I want to
with you from now on.  Don't you, slut?  And you also know
that by the time I get through with you, you just won't care
at all any more about anything except doing exactly as I
say.  You won't care who knows about it.  You won't care if
it ruins you financially.  You won't care if they take your
job away from you because you're an unfit coach.  You won't
care about anything in this world but making me happy."
Paul tried his best to stop shaking.  But he just couldn't.
The nagging itch held him firmly and irrevocably in it's
clutches.  He could hear Jared's heavy breathing, and when
he looked into those bright, compelling blue eyes, he almost
fainted dead away from a sudden overwhelming wave of purest
fear. Paul knew with absolute certainty that what Jared was
saying about him was totally true.  He WAS having those
kinds of perverted, sick thoughts.  He had been having them
steadily for four months now: ever since Jared had started
swimming.  He had had no hope that his perverted, sick
thoughts would ever be realized.  Not until today.  Not
until Jared told him so.  And a growing part of him really
didn't care anymore.  The nagging itch demanded attention.
It would not be denied.
"I know all about you, Paul.  You really want to just relax
and let yourself give in.  Don't you?  You want a hot little
boy just like me to control you: to guide you into all sorts
of really bad little sex games.  But you're still so scared
to give in to your twisted little desires.  Aren't you?"
Paul was now almost out of control of his body, it was
shaking so hard from fear.  And something else as well was
taking hold of his mind: something dark and powerful,
something deep and demanding.
"Don't worry, Paul.  Don't worry about a thing.  You're my
little faggy Coach Puppypoo from now on.  I'll be ever so
glad to help you find that special place that you've been
wanting: that place where you can get everything you need.
That place where it's just you and me."
Jared ran his fingers leisurely through Paul 's hair and
slowly but inexorably pulled his head down until their noses
almost touched.
"I want you to tongue kiss me now, Coach Slut," Jared
whispered into Paul 's ear.
Paul tried feebly to pull his head away, but totally lost
the battle to retain his thinking mind as Jared's eyes bored
deeply into his psyche.
"You know how much you want to tongue kiss me.  Admit it to
yourself, Paul.  You want to be made to dirty kiss your star
swimmer boy right on the mouth.  You want to part your pouty
coach lips and let me put my hot little tongue deep in your
slutty mouth. You've just gotta have it, baby."
Paul closed his eyes real tight, fought not to listen to
Jared's mesmerizing words, and tried as hard as he could to
pull his head away, but Jared's hold on him was much too
strong by this time for him to resist.  Jared pressed his
young, tantalizing lips ever so lightly and teasingly
against those of the older man and Paul moaned deep in his
throat as his own now famished lips parted to receive the
sinful kiss of this young teenage boy who was his star
swimmer. Paul knew that this sort of horribly immoral
behavior with Jared was so very wrong and would get him into
a great deal of trouble if he were somehow caught kissing
Jared in this lewd way.  But the erotic feel of Jared's
soft, wet tongue probing and exploring along his parted lips
and then deep inside his mouth drove all such dreadful
concerns away in a flash of erotic lust.
When Paul whimpered for more and began to kiss back, Jared
gently let go of the older man's head, but didn't stop
kissing him: oh by no means, no.  The now confident young
teen boy allowed his young hands to rove and explore
positively about Paul 's taut body: sliding over his T-shirt
along his long arms and across his strong swimmers
shoulders, slipping sensuously over his large pecs,
squeezing, tweezing the older man's erect nipples, teasing.
Then Jared's hand moved down to Paul's gym shorts and
breathtakingly over his erect and oozing cock.  Paul began
to moan softly as Jared's torrid kiss and demanding touch
drove his completely to distraction.  His briefs were
beginning to sop up the precum secretions of his ravenous
cock.
As for Jared, wantonly feeling up this older man who was his
coach and demonstrating thereby his sexual dominance over
him, aroused the fifteen year old boy beyond words.  He
could sense the familiar pleasurable burning growing deep
within his own loins and he liked it that way just fine.
Paul was just like all the other adult men Jared had seduced
and tormented.  Just exactly like them.
Paul 's body began to slump toward the gym floor as his
knees became weaker and weaker.  After a time, Jared
literally had to prop the panting, whimpering older man up
against the bleachers.  Paul was so out of control by then
that he lost what last vestiges of restraint he still had
retained.  The sex-hungry man lewdly pressed the front of
his gym shorts as tightly as he could against Jared's
outthrust thigh and began the short, jabbing motions of his
hips that most resembled a dog in heat trying his best to
get off.
Jared just stood there with a cruel smirk on his face and
allowed Paul wantonly to hump his hip until he sensed that
the older man was approaching an orgasm.  At that point, the
merciless boy pulled himself completely away from Paul's
body.  Paul, sex-crazed and thwarted at the time he most
needed release, began to whine just like a rutting,
frustrated doggie.  But Jared was having none of Paul's
demented desire to find relief from the nagging, burning
itch.  It was just too much fun for him to keep his new toy
frustrated and aroused.
"Please, Jared.  Pleeeeeeaaaaassssseeeee."
Paul didn't care one bit that he was humiliating and
degrading himself by begging the young boy to help him
please, to allow him to obtain blessed relief from the
maddening, nagging itch.  He didn't care that he was making
a wanton spectacle of himself and that Jared was now
laughing out loud at his plight.  He didn't care about
anything except making the nagging itch go away.
Jared grew impatient.  A couple stinging slaps broke Paul
down completely and got his full attention.
"Bad boy.  Bad little faggy puppy.  You only get off when I
say, slut. And I don't want you to get off, yet.  Now you
better come along quietly, Coach Puppypoo.  You don't want
to keep me waiting too long to get my clothes."
Paul didn't answer.  No words would form in his brain, so
fogged was it with lust and thwarted sex hunger for his new
teen tormenter. He just bowed his head meekly and trudged
silent behind his young master into the boy's changing room.
He was terribly afraid of Jared, but Jared's control was
getting stronger and stronger.
Jared led the way through the boys' changing room toward the
holding pen where they kept the dirty gym clothes in
numbered, assigned metal baskets.  He unlocked the wicket
gate, stepped inside, reached up, and brought out his basket
full of smelly gym clothes that he had exercised in only the
day before.  He re-locked the wicket gate and set the basket
down on a convenient bench right in front of  Paul .  The
older man began licking his lips in lurid expectation of
what Jared might allow his to do.
"Would Coach Puppypoo like to root around in Jared's dirty,
smelly gym clothes?" Jared giggled out the taunting
question.
Paul felt his rock hard cock oozing soppy wet all over again
at the wanton prospect of holding Jared's soiled gym suit in
his hands, of pressing the young boy's sweaty and sex scent
covered jock strap hard against his face, of inhaling his
musk.  He didn't have to think for a second about what he
wanted.  Yet some deep spark of self-preservation made his
reluctant to admit what he wanted to Jared.  Paul knew that
once he confessed his sordid desires to this young boy,
Jared would be able to use it against his to pull his even
further into the pit.
"Or would you rather just go back to the car?"
Jared stood there, hands on his hips, demanding an answer.
Paul felt himself falter in his resolve to fight the nagging
itch.  Jared's sweaty gym outfit got the better of him in
the end, as he knew all along that it would.
"Well, Coach Puppypoo.  Do you want to play around in my
smelly old gym clothes, or don't you?"
Paul immediately began nodding his head 'yes' like some kind
of demented bobblehead doll.
"Yes, Jared. Coach Paulpuppypoo would love to root around in
your dirty, smelly gym clothes."
Jared giggled and smirked wickedly at his new plaything.
"Well, I just bet you would, Coach Puppypoo.  But don't you
think you should trade me something nice for the privilege
of playing in my smelly old clothes pile?"
Paul wasn't at all sure what Jared meant.  But he knew deep
down that whatever it was, it would only force him further
down the ladder toward total debasement.
"What do you want to trade for," Paul asked barely above a
whisper.
Jared reached out his hand.
"Take off your gym shorts and give me your briefs, Paul .  I
want to keep them as a little trophy of our new
relationship.  I'll add them to my growing collection of
sticky coach briefs.  Go on.  Just take off that pair of gym
shorts of yours, and take down your briefs, and then hand
them to me just like a good little Coach slut boy."
Paul sucked in his breath.  This was so wrong, so sinful.
He didn't want to humiliate himself any more than he already
had in front of Jared by just meekly handing over his
briefs.
Jared moved toward the older man and placed his hand along
the beltline of Paul's gym shorts.
"Or maybe Coach Puppypoo wants me to take them off for him.
Is that what Coach Puppypoo wants?  Does Coach Puppypoo like
having his dirty, wet briefs pulled down by a little middle
school boy just like me?"
Jared began sensuously rubbing the palm of his other hand up
Paul's inner thigh through the leg hole of his gym shorts:
higher and still higher up to and over his soppy briefs
while he began to toy with the waistband of Paul's gym
shorts with his other hand.  Paul made little animal sounds
deep in his throat as Jared slipped his finger under Paul 's
briefs and felt the older man suck in his breath.  Jared
hummed quietly to himself as he allowed his finger teasingly
to brush Paul's achingly hard cock, back and forth, back and
forth, while Paul whimpered and made more little animal
noises.  Then Jared slowly retracted his hand and stood back
as Paul whined and bucked his hips in a desperate pantomime
of sexual intercourse.  Jared's teasing, tormenting efforts
were rewarded by a series of desperate little whimpers as
Paul lewdly gyrated his hips in an unconscious sign that he
craved Jared's hand and desperately wanted it back where it
had been.
"Bad boy.  I've decided I don't want to take off your
briefs, Coach Puppypoo.  I want you to do it for me.  I want
to watch you do it.  I want to see you slip them off your
hips and down your legs like the slut you are.  I want you
to tease me with the sight of you doing it.  I want to see
the look on your face.  You know what it will mean when you
take off your own wet briefs and give them to me.  Don't
you, Paul?"
Paul whined and slowly nodded his head.  He knew all right.
He knew that it would mean his complete surrender to Jared:
his total submission to this young boy's erotic whims.  And
knowing this, Paul still did as he was bidden.   e reached
up and undid his gym shorts and let them fall to the floor.
Then he placed his fingers tentatively inside the waistband
of his sex sticky briefs and tugged them slowly down his
well muscled thighs, over his knees, to his ankles.  Then,
he stepped out of them and meekly handed them over to Jared,
who accepted his trophy with an all-knowing smirk on his
face.
Jared looked at Paul 's briefs, surveying them closely as if
they were something quite special, which, of course they
were.  The young boy grinned as he noted that Paul 's name
was printed in the waistband.
"Do all your briefs have your name on them, Coach Puppypoo?"
Jared purred as he held Paul 's briefs close to his nose and
inhaled the older man's sex scent.
Paul seeing the perverse use Jared was making of his briefs,
hung his head.
"Yes, Jared. I have them ordered special for me off the web,
and I buy a new set from time to time when the old ones wear
out."
As he answered Jared's embarrassing question, Paul could
feel his now hard and exposed cock secreting hot, sticky
precum that began to teardrop against his belly.  Paul
licked his lips in anticipation of doing to Jared's own
briefs just exactly what the young boy was now doing to his.
"Maybe I'll make you order me some with my name in them.
Anybody who looks closely at the order might wonder why "
Paul Willis" is ordering briefs for "Jared Conrad."  But it
won't matter what other people think.  Will it, slut?"
Paul just nodded his head in agreement.  He would do
whatever Jared told him to do from now on.  Paul could
detect a musky, earthy scent as he stood there waiting
permission to begin his foray into Jared's soiled gym
clothes.  He didn't know whether he smelled his own sexual
excitement, or Jared's, or the residue of sex scent given
off by all the boys who came in here to change after their
hot, sweaty exercise.  Paul didn't care at all just whose
boy sex he smelled, he was way too intoxicated by it to care
any more.
Jared took the older man's briefs away from his nose and
smiled sweetly.
"If these briefs of yours are any indication, Coach
Puppypoo, you're dripping like a faucet.  You're such a
pervy little faggy slut.  Aren't you?"
Paul could only nod his head in agreement once again.  He
raised his head enough to see the wicked smile on Jared's
face, and he wanted to sink right through the floor.  But
when Jared stuffed his briefs in the pocket of his tight
fitting jeans and then picked up the basket with all his
sweaty gym clothes in it and held it up for him, Paul just
couldn't resist taking the offered sign of his degradation
from the giggling young boy.
"Go ahead, Coach Puppypoo.  Root around all you want to.
Now that I have my nasty little trophy proving that you
belong to me, you can have your fun, too.  Why don't you
show me what a nasty little pervert you really are; smelling
little boys' dirty old jock straps.  I bet you can't wait to
get a whiff of my dirty briefs."
Paul sheepishly placed the basket on the bench in front of
him, fell to his knees, and immediately began digging around
inside with both his hands. He knew exactly what he was
looking for and he found them almost instantly: Jared's
little boy cotton briefs.  A little hysterical giggle
escaped Paul 's parted lips as he raised the sweaty, smelly
briefs to his face and inhaled deeply.  He inhaled deeply
again and again, drawing Jared's most intimate scents way
into his nostrils.  He could hear Jared's derisive laughter
at his perverse antics from far away.  Part of him began to
cry softly to himself.  But most of him just didn't care at
all how ridiculous and humiliated he looked.  For the first
time in his entire life he was truly satisfying the horrid
nagging itch deep inside him and it felt just like heaven;
or was that hell he felt.  Either way, Paul was too far gone
to think about it one way or the other.
Jared reached out his hand and tousled Paul 's hair.
"You're such a little coach slut.  I'm surprised you haven't
been rooting around in my dirty clothes basket and smelling
my jock strap already. I bet my briefs smell great.  Don't
they  baby?"
Paul didn't want to listen to that kind of talk coming from
Jared.  He just wanted to continue to root around in the
boy's smelly gym clothes.  Looking at Paul's single minded
focus on his briefs, Jared just laughed and laughed at the
older man.  "You are all alike.  Aren't you.  All the horny,
depraved coaches wanting to be bossed around by their star
athletes.  How they prance around their bedrooms, naked and
needy.  How they would willingly do the most depraved things
their little boy masters could think up to make them do.
How they would beg for their reward for being such obedient
little coach sluts.  How their little boy tormentors would
love the feel of their worshipping hands, and their oh so
willing tongues."
Paul knew that he was now nothing but a ridiculous, degraded
shell of his former self.  If any of his colleagues could
see his now, they just wouldn't believe it.  Or if any of
the parents of the boys Jared swam with could watch Jared
put his coach through his paces, that would be the absolute
end of him.  Oh God.  If they ever found out: if Jared ever
told on him.
But Jared's briefs smelled SO good.
After a time, Jared called a halt to Paul 's degrading
performance, and ordered the older man to put his dirty
cotton briefs back into the pile of gym shorts and tops, and
dirty socks. Paul was once again so close to finding the
relief his body craved.  But, despite the gnawing hunger in
his loins that made him cry out in frustration, Paul still
obeyed his new master, stopped sniffing Jared's briefs, and
reluctantly did as he was told.  He pulled his gym shorts up
and buckled his belt.  Then, he gathered up the pile of
dirty clothes, and unceremoniously stuffed them back into
the metal basket.
Jared smiled to see just what kind of control over this man
he possessed.
"Now, Paul Puppypoo, lets go over to your house so I can
wash all this yucky stuff.  My mom's washing machine is
broken, so we'll have to use yours."
Taken aback by his new master's unexpected command, but
unwilling to attempt to dissuade Jared from doing what he
wanted to do,  Paul merely nodded his head in meek
agreement.  After all, it would give them more time
together: more time for Jared to molest him.  And perhaps
Paul 's nagging itch might be truly satisfied, finally.
Jared might take pity on him if he was a very good boy.
"Well, pick up the basket and carry it out to the car for
me, slut," Jared said with his hands on his hips. Paul
meekly picked up the basket and followed along behind his
new young teen master as he stepped out of the boys' locker
room and across the hardwood gym floor to the metal outer
doors.  Paul was nearly blinded by the late afternoon sun as
they emerged from the gloomy gym.
Paul was relieved beyond words when Jared just got into the
passenger side of the car.  Jared sat himself in the
passenger seat once again and waited for Paul to climb
behind the wheel.  Jared sat back in his seat and allowed
his hand to steal inside the leg opening of Paul 's gym
shorts and caress his naked cock.  Surprised by the feel of
the boy's fingers on his cock, Paul almost lost control.
But sudden, blinding fear of discovery by another driver
made him settle back down while Jared's taunting fingers
began sliding impishly up and down along his soppy shaft.
"Let's go,  I don't want to sit here all afternoon," came
Jared's perturbed voice from the passenger seat.
"OK," Paul 's voice faltered as he started the car and began
the drive home.  All along the route home, Jared's busy
fingers slid around Paul 's most intimate places as the
older man obediently raised his hips slightly off the seat
to allow his teenage dom full access to whatever he wanted
to play with.  It was everything Paul could do to keep his
mind on his driving as Jared molested his nether regions.
And the nagging itch was completely in control of Paul now.
Oh yes.
By the time they got to his house, Paul was almost
hysterical, spiraling in a maelstrom of fear and perverse
excitement.  He knew that Jared was sitting right beside
him, and so he would have heard any sound his coach made.
Paul 's lower lip was almost bitten through a couple times
as Jared's exploring fingers found an especially sensitive
spot.  But somehow, Paul had made it home without crying
out.  Jared just laughed at him.
The older man practically leapt out of the car as Jared
giggled himself silly next to him.
The coach and his boy master entered the house.  Like some
type of automaton, Paul led Jared to the utility room next
to the kitchen.  As if in a trance, Paul put detergent in
the washer, set the temperature level and put Jared's soiled
gym clothes inside to wash.  Paul wished he didn't have to
wash Jared's soiled briefs along with the rest.  He
desperately wanted to retrieve them and continue his
degrading show for his young master in hopes that Jared
would treat him to a nice little cum cum.  But Jared only
laughed at his plight.
"Don't worry, Paul. I'm wearing another pair right now.  You
can have them all to yourself if you just kneel down and
take them off me first.  I'll just slip out of these jeans
and you can slowly reveal that tasty young cock of mine that
you find so `kissable.'  I'll bet you didn't know I knew all
about your fantasies in that regard.  Did you?  I'll even
let you lick it for me this time.  I'm really looking
forward to cumming in your mouth."
Paul looked around as if in a daze.  His fear of Jared was
growing by the second.
"But I don't want ...."
Jared slapped Paul across his face.
"But I want you to, Paul .  And you better get down on your
knees and take my briefs off right now.  And I think I'll
take a couple digitals of you kissing my `kissable' cock to
show off to my friends."
Paul looked as if he might throw up.
"Please don't do that, Jared.  Please don't.  I don't want
anyone to know about us.  I'd be too embarrassed.  I'd die."
Jared pulled out Paul 's briefs from his pocket and held
them up for him to see.
"I have your sticky old briefs right here, Paul slut.  It
wouldn't be any trouble at all for me to go back to school
on Monday and show them to the whole swim team.  Of course,
after I did, they wouldn't have much respect for you any
more.  Would they?"
Paul began to cry silently.
"Please, Jared.  I don't want them to know about that side
of me.  I'm their coach.  They would just despise me if they
knew about us."
Jared smiled.
"I suspect they would despise their coach if they found out
what a slutty little subby faggy cunt you really were,
perving me like that."
Jared's words stung Paul as if he had been slapped.
"Now, slut face.  Do I take these coach briefs into school
on Monday and fill the team in on all the sordid details, or
do you do what I tell you to right this very minute with no
more complaints?"
Paul bowed his head.  He knew he had no choice.  He had
known that since he had given Jared his briefs in the first
place.  He had been so desperate for Jared to bring him off
that he would have promised anything for the privilege of
being allowed to serve this fifteen year old hellion.  Now
he was paying for his indiscretion.  And he would continue
to pay for it.  Of that he was certain.
Paul reluctantly sank to his knees, slowly crawled to where
Jared was standing, bare legs apart, and reached his
trembling hands up the boy's silky smooth young legs until
he felt the thin, cotton material.  His heart jerked in his
body and he let out a little, painful squeal.
"Go on, slut.  Take them off.  I told you I'd let you lick
my soppy cock for me.  And then, if you really humiliate
yourself, I'll even let you suck it till I cum inside your
subby faggy mouth.  You won't believe how good I taste.  All
my coaches say so."
Jared giggles.
As Paul began tugging down Jared's briefs, he heard the
young boy begin to laugh at his once more.  The laughter
grew more raucous as Paul removed them altogether and
pressed the boy's warm briefs to his lips and began licking
the sodden front panel.  Jared was right.  Jared was right
about everything.  He did taste like heaven.  Heaven on
earth.  It didn't matter any more how degraded Paul felt;
how far down into the pit he had crawled.  Jared had let his
lick his briefs.  Then Jared told him to kiss his "kissable"
cock.  For a long time Paul kissed the very tip of the boy's
hard organ.  Jared smiled down and ran his hands through
Paul's hair, directing his movements.  Demanding attention.
Then Jared had let him suck and lick his boycock for a long
time until Jared finally rewarded him with a nice mouthful
of hot and tasty boycum.
That was all that mattered to Paul. And, then Jared had bent
over and told Paul that if he was a very good boy, Jared
would let him lick something else ever so nice.  He had
promised.  Paul closed his eyes and fell in free fall as
Jared's fresh and earthy cum taste filled his mouth.
Paul began wriggling on the floor like some demented eel,
Jared's cum stained briefs jammed deep inside his mouth.  He
wouldn't let go of them. They were his last connection to
what was left of his world.
Jared began talking to Paul softly.  "I could see how much
you wanted to let yourself be controlled by a young boy.  I
could see it in your eyes every time you watched me in the
shower, or at a swim meet.  So I decided that it would
really be fun to have my own coach as my newest little
Puppypoo toy."
Jared walked over to where his coach was writhing and
moaning on the floor. Then he gently removed his briefs from
Paul 's mouth.
Paul opened his eyes and stared beseechingly into his star
swimmer's smiling face.  Jared couldn't really want him to
do this last lewd thing.  Could he?  Then, Paul felt the
nagging itch take complete charge of him once again, and he
meekly leaned forward against Jared's outthrust bubble butt
until his tongue was right where they both wanted it to be.
Then he began to lick and thrust.  Then Jared smiled his
triumphant smile.
"Would you like a treat, Coach? Would you like to keep your
head between my creamy young butt cheeks and use that warm,
wet coach tongue of yours on the hottest boy in ninth
grade?"
Paul moaned deep and his throat and nodded his head 'yes.'
Oh God.  Anything to make the nagging itch go away.
Anything.
"then lets go up to your bedroom after awhile where we can
be much more comfortable.  I think I'm going to like your
bed, Coach.  I think I'll sleep in it from now on whenever I
come over.  You can sleep on the floor right beside me.
OK."
Another moan.  Another nod.
After Paul had licked and thrust and tasted his new master
for what seemed an eternity Jared finally admitted that he
had had enough for a while.  He helped his coach stand up.
And very shortly after that, and after a lot of begging and
pleading and promising to obey completely from now on, Jared
allowed Paul to humiliate himself once again and satisfy his
nagging, burning itch, finally.
For a while at least.


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