Date: Sun, 14 May 2000 14:58:15 -0700
From: Jon Hold <jonhold@eudoramail.com>
Subject: No Running M/T masturbation, spanking, discipline

This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be used
without his express permission. Private persons and no others
are given permission to have one (1) electronic and/or one (1)
printed copy of this work. ASSGM and Nifty are given permission
to archive this work.

All the usual disclaimers that are usual apply here. This is a
work of fiction involving sex acts between consenting persons of
various conditions of life. If you can't handle that or if you
are not of the legal age or mindset, go no further but remove
this material from your possession forthwith.

If you have faggot sensitivity, you ought not read this story.
I'd really like to hear from some of you with either positive or
negative comments. I have no idea really if I'm bringing any of
you pleasure or what it is you'd like me to write about. I only
hear from a few people on each story and that's not much
feedback for all the work I put into writing these. I'd really
like to hear from you so I'll have some idea how I'm doing.
Thanks.

Try to keep in mind that while 42 is the meaning of life, it is
not the only possible solution. Jon


No Running

M/T masturbation, spanking, discipline

by Jon Hold

jonhold@eudoramail.com



If you have a copy of Harry Bush's painting/cartoon "No
Running", you might enjoy keeping it handy as you read this
story. Harry Bush and Julius are my two favorite gay-theme
artists. I hope this story lives up to Mr. Bush's standards.



My parents couldn't afford a four-year college, so I attended
the local Junior College for my first two years of advanced
schooling. Several local businessmen agreed to sponsor my
college education on sort of a swimming scholarship. Oh yeah,
I'm Buddy Wilkins, State Champion swimmer. The Jr. College
swimming coach agreed to let me join the summer program, which
wasn't usually open to entering Freshmen. Pretty exciting for
me, especially since I'd met the College swimming coach when he
interviewed me at the High School and accepted me into the
swimming program.

Oh, while I'm thinking of it, perhaps I should mention that I'm
just the teeniest bit gay. Not a flaming queen or anything, but
my orientation is definitely man-to-man. More specifically, I
was really turned on by older men. Powerful men who could
control, discipline and direct me. I only sex I'd ever had was
with Grandma Thumb and her four daughters --- and a little bit
of goofing around with a few team mates. Dad had died when I was
nine, and I really missed him. My dad was the coolest person I'd
ever known. If I closed my eyes and held my dick I could still
smell all his odors. His after shower odor and his 'I've been
working hard all day' odor. Most of all I could remember the
smell of him when he'd pick me up and hug me and hold me against
his hard chest. I was his "best buddy" and I'd do ANYTHING for
my Daddy. When that drunk driver killed him I was totally
bereft. Lost and alone and no one could reach me for years until
my mom signed me up for swimming lessons at the local "Y". The
coach was a stud and swimming naked with him and all those other
boys became the center of my life.

When I entered High School, the swimming coach took over my
training and turned me into a championship swimmer. I admired
him, and did my very best for him, but he scared me and I was
afraid to tell him how much he turned me on.  He made us wear
swimming suits at all times unless we were actually changing
clothes, and I never did get to see him in anything less than a
pair of baggy swimming trunks. And now he was turning me over to
another Coach.

Coach Gospodin was 27, a couple of inches taller and a few
pounds heavier than me with blond hair so lightly colored that
it seemed white. I couldn't wait to see him out of his business
suit.

The first day of summer classes was spent in the classroom going
over safety rules and training schedules and getting introduced
to each other. I was the "baby" in the class, everyone else
being at least a year older than me. Classes were on Tuesdays
and Thursdays with practice time available after class and on
weekends.

Naturally, I missed the bus and was late for my first practice
on Thursday. I rushed into the gym and changed clothes and
rinsed off in the showers as fast as I could, hoping that maybe
the coach wouldn't notice I was late. Fat chance! I tried to
sneak out to the pool unobtrusively, but everyone turned around
and stared at me.

Mom had splurged and bought me the pair of electric blue speedos
that I'd been lusting after and the way they molded to my hips
and ass and held my full package up was a real turn-on. For me
at least. Everyone else seemed to think it was exceptionally
funny that I was the only person in the pool area wearing any
clothing at all.

"Well, Mr. Wilkins," Coach Gospodin said, "it's so nice of you
to drop by and join the rest of us."

I blushed bright red halfway down my chest.

"Would you care to take off your nifty little speedo's and join
the rest of us, or are you body conscious as well as tardy?"

Great! Just Fucking Great! My first real college swimming class
and I already had the coach pissed at me and the rest of the
students staring at me as I tried to wiggle out of the skin
tight Lycra. The coach worked our asses off and seemed to spend
most of the class yelling into my ear.

After Coach Gospodin dismissed the class and went back to his
office, most of the guys went to take a shower and head home. My
plan was to stay for a while and try to work on some of the
things the coach had been trying to teach me. A small group of
the other swimmers were hanging out and having fun. A couple of
them came over and sympathized with me for getting the coach on
my case so early in the game and invited me to join them and
their friends. We were playing a semi-complicated game of tag
and I was running up the side of the pool to circle around
behind the other team. My timing was almost perfect. I managed
to barrel into the coach just as he stepped out of his office
door.

Staring me right in the eye and hooking his thumb over his
shoulder he said one word, "Office!". Then he turned to the
other guys, "You have three minutes to shower, dress, and get
your young asses out of here. Move it!"

The coach walked in behind me and pointed. "Get your nose in the
corner!"

My dad was the only person who had ever punished me, and that
was one of the things HE'd done. I started to object, but Coach
Gospodin just bare-handed my ass hard enough to leave a red
handprint and gave my shoulder a push to get me moving. Once I
had my nose firmly in the corner, Coach left the office by the
interior door and I heard him yelling at the other guys. I could
hear the gym doors close behind the last of my teammates and
heard the clanging as Coach locked the doors. I felt more than
heard him come back into the office and the next thing I knew he
had me by the ear and was dragging me back out to the pool, both
of us still naked and my ass still burning where he'd swatted
me. I figured that this was the end of my swimming career,
because there was no way I was going to let an asshole like this
abuse me.

Coach lead me by the ear out to were "No Running" was printed on
the pools cement apron in large red letters. Pointing to the
sign he asked, "Can you read that?"

Half scared and more than half angry, I said, "Yes!"

Still holding onto my ear, he swatted my ass again. "Can you
read that?"

"YES!" I yelled. I don't know if it was because I was so angry
or because of the burning in my ass, but tears were coming to my
eyes and I was going to be damned before I'd let this martinet
see me crying.

"WHACK!" He REALLY landed one on my ass. "I asked you a civil
question. Are you going to give me a polite answer?"

"Yes."

He raised his hand again, but before he could take it any
further a little session my Dad and I had just before he died
came to mind.

"Yes, Sir! I CAN read the sign... Sir!"

"Good! Maybe there's hope for you yet. Now maybe I can convince
you that I mean my rules to be obeyed."

With that he tweaked my ear and twisted me around as he went
down on one knee, right on top of the "No Running" sign.
Somehow, I ended up across his raised knee.

Coach was strong enough that with one hand on my hip and his
forearm across the small of my back, he held me securely as he
began to seriously warm up my ass. I struggled to get free, but
the more I struggled the harder he spanked me.

"I can keep this up all day until you settle down and take your
punishment for breaking the "No Running" rule. None of this
counts 'til you hold still."

I knew that he was serious and did my best to hold still. Once
he saw that he started talking to me about the special chance I
had and how he never wanted to see me late again and how I'd
damn well better pay attention to the rules. I was listening to
him, but my face started getting red again, and it wasn't
necessarily due to the pain in my ass.

By now, the spanking didn't really hurt, it was just making my
ass hotter and hotter and I blushed more and more as I felt my
groin filling with blood and my dick started rubbing against
Coach's thigh. I was really embarrassed, but coach just kept
working my ass over just as if he didn't notice my erection
poking his leg and spreading my copious teen juices all over his
smooth skin. Pushing up off of my knuckles, I arched my back and
started peddling my legs as if I were going for a breaststroke
championship.

Coach started urging me on and timing his strokes so that the
flat of his hand whacked my buttcheek just as my leg on that
side reached it's maximum lift. "YEAH! You've been needing this,
haven't you, Boy!"

"Yes, Sir! Yes, Sir!" I yelled.

Then the real spanking began. Coach worked my ass over good.
Laughing, telling me how good it felt to work my ass over and
how he was going to blister my butt every time I got the
slightest bit out of line. I kept saying, "Yes, Sir." and
begging him to really give my ass a good going over. I could
feel his heavy manhood following my left leg up and down as I
kicked my feet and I knew that he was really enjoying spanking
my ass.

He held me tightly and reached down between my legs to pull on
my balls when I started shooting my cum all over his leg. I felt
him press his cockhead between my thigh and ballsac and he
joined me, spooging all up between my legs.

I slumped down across his knee, emotionally and physically
exhausted. Coach held me firmly in place, one hand cupping one
of my hot ass cheeks and the other rubbing my back as I cried
and let years of hurt and longing out. When I was quieted down
and breathing regularly again, Coach lifted me to my feet and
guided me into the shower room.