Ricky Trent did not have a choice. The school required involvement in
a sport as part of the PE program in order to graduate and he was
totally inept at everything remotely athletic. His failures were
legendary and so Coach Kinnison made him the towel boy. A team does
not lose if one drops a towel except in boxing and that was not in the
school’s program. Ricky thought it was a waste of time but he was
trapped. It did have a couple of nice extras however — he got to see
all the other guys (not just from his class) and especially the jocks.
He got to see all of each of them. Several of them were, to put it
bluntly, excellent eye candy for him. He saw who had well-developed
bodies and who had unbalanced ones with uneven or grotesque
development. He even had wet dreams about fucking some of them.
There was another perk also. The Coach was a strict taskmaster and
expected the best from each and every man at all times. He did not
expect perfect results — after all there must be a loser as well as
winner — but the best effort. He had an assistant — Mr.
Inspiration. Mr. Inspiration was two feet by four inches by half an
inch of solid oak. Dropping a pass that should have been caught,
missing a shot that should have been made, not paying attention and
even being late earned a “prize ticket”. One might even get such a
prize coming in first if one merely ran fast enough just to win and
not to beat one’s own record.
With the squad in the showers, some days Ricky would be ordered to
fetch Mr. Inspiration as the Coach talked about performance. It was
the end of the talk that Ricky was most interested in. It was then
that the prize winners would be called forward, ordered to bend over
grasping their ankles with their butts facing their mates, their
packages dangling below, for their pops. Ricky loved hearing the
CRACK and seeing the paddle flattening a wet boy butt. He loved how
there would be a wide red stripe where the paddle had kissed; the
grunt of the prize winner as he suppressed the natural yell in honor
of machismo. Ricky thought that it was better when he couldn’t,
especially if the guy was older. He noted that many of the witnesses
were stiffer after compared to before the prize distribution. Ricky
had the advantage that he was always dressed and wore a jock to hide
his own rising response.
Ricky was frequently the butt of jokes inviting him to join the group
in the shower instead of just watching. They promised they would show
him a good time and he would not even have to drop the soap. He
always laughed when he declined. He would have liked to but he wanted
to play in another way.
Nothing unusual happened for months until one day the Coach had to
leave five minutes early. By then everyone was done with the shower
and dressed. Or so the Coach thought. Ricky was doing his final
sweep of the locker room to be sure he got all the towels when Calvin
Gorton came in. He was a senior. He was a jock. He had a fantastic
body in perfect balance and symmetry. He was one of Ricky’s favorite
wet dream players. Of course, Ricky never expected even to shake
hands with such an Adonis much less get close for anything more
intimate. Cal was muddy from his cross country run and more than a
half hour late. (Fortunately he had made it back or the Coach would
have been in big trouble for losing a student.)
Cal asked Ricky to get him a towel and to turn the water on. Ricky
was delighted for he would get to see the beautiful body once again
and perhaps in more detail since others would not be watching for such
rude homo behavior. When Cal finished showering, Ricky closed the
master valves again and approached him.
“You did not do your best today, did you?” Ricky asked holding two
towels so as to hide Mr. Inspiration.
“I guess not.” Cal sighed.
“You know the Coach’s rules.” Ricky said, showing him the paddle.
“Where’s the Coach?” he asked.
“He had to leave. Do you want to wait for tomorrow?” Ricky tapped his
palm with the paddle. He had set the trap.
“You mean…?” His prey was sniffing at the bait.
“It’s up to you, Cal.” Ricky’s heart was racing for it was just one
more step and the trap would snap closed.
“Six?”
“That’s the usual. Please lean over the bench with your legs spread
as I’m a little shorter than the Coach.” Ricky’s cock was so hard
that it was hurting as he watched Cal take his position presenting his
ass to him. “Remember — don’t get up until I say so.”
Cal was sure that he had picked the right option. Six from little
faggy Ricky would be a piece of cake compared to only three from the
Coach. Also, he would not have to worry about it all of tomorrow nor
would it be in front of the entire squad. He wondered how many others
had gotten pops from the towel boy. He certainly never heard of it
but no paddlee would mention it and apparently the towel boy kept his
mouth shut.
Ricky admired the perfectly shaped butt cheeks so willingly offered up
to him and Mr. Inspiration as Cal got into position. He made a point
about getting everything just right to assure Cal that he would not
miss the target. He held back a bit for the first pop to lock the
trap by making Cal think it was going to be easy.
CRACK. Cal remained silent and decided that he had made the right
choice.
“Last chance to wait for the Coach, Cal.”
“You finish what you started, Ricky boy. I don’t want to wait.”
Ricky smiled. Cal could not change his mind now. He asked for a
paddling and he was going to get one. “Whatever you say, Stud.” Ricky
rubbed his hard cock through his jeans.
*CRACK!* The second pop was full strength. Cal yelled. He knew he
had been suckered but it still was easier than the Coach’s pops and he
was not going to lose face to a mere junior three years younger by
chickening out. He did not notice that Ricky was freeing his own cock
from his jeans.
*CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!* Cal grunted for each of them but took them
well. Ricky rolled a lubricated condom on his hard cock and then
delivered the last pop.
*CRACK!*
He dropped the paddle and quickly rubbed some lube on Cal’s hole and
pressed forward. A hard push and he penetrated as he hoped. Cal was
very surprised but his hands had been clamped so tightly since the
second pop that he could not release his grasp immediately. Ricky
held his hips and pounded away. Being paddled had always excited Cal
and with Ricky’s shaft hitting his prostate he was rock hard. He was
enjoying it. He came even before Ricky filled the rubber with his
spunk.
Ricky withdrew and told him to get up. The two youths faced each
other. “That was great fun. We should do it again. Real soon.”
The reply took a few minutes. “I thought you were a fag but you’re a
stud.”
“Yea, I’m a fag but I like to fuck; not be fucked like some jocks.
Now dry off and get dressed so we can get out of here before the
janitor tells the Coach we were so late.”