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Date: Tue, 8 Apr 2025 22:28:21 +0200
From: "outandwriting@gmail.com" <outandwriting@gmail.com>
Subject: The Coach's Curveball - Chapter 2: Trust me

This story is comprised of multiple chapters, and the summary and tags
reflect the overall story arc, encompassing all chapters.

SUMMARY::
A high school sophomore struggles with feelings of inadequacies until his
baseball coach and girlfriend step in to help him find himself.

PAIRING AND ORIENTATION:
M/m, M/f, M/f/m, f/m

CATEGORY, GENRE, AND THEME:
Bisexual > Authoritarian, AgeGap, PowerPlay, Control, Dom/Sub, Chastity,
Cuckold, Sissification

DISCLAIMER:
This is a work of fiction intended for adults aged 18 and over. It
includes consensual relationships between adult and teenage characters.
All characters are fictional, and any resemblance to real individuals is
purely coincidental. If material involving any pairing, orientation,
category, genre, or theme described above offend you, or are illegal in
your area, please do not read further.

COPYRIGHT © 2025 by outandwriting@gmail.com
All rights reserved. This story may not be copied, shared, or reposted
without permission from the author.

NIFTY:
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(using link https://donate.nifty.org/).

MESSAGE TO READERS, FEEDBACK AND CONTRIBUTIONS:
Thank you for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story so far. I love
hearing from readers, so feel free to reach out with any comments,
feedback, thoughts or suggestions. And, If you have ideas for future
chapters, or if there's a particular direction you'd like to see the
story take, I'd be happy to consider them. I'm also open to new story
ideas if you'd like to collaborate or suggest something fresh!

You can contact me at outandwriting@gmail.com

Now on to the story!





THE COACH'S CURVEBALL
Chapter 2: Trust Me
by outandwriting@gmail.com



Coach's lips moved again, this time from Ethan's ear to his mouth, and
before Ethan could process what was happening, he felt the press of
Coach's lips against his own. It was firm, commanding, and Ethan's
breath caught in his chest. His mind scrambled, but his body--his body
betrayed him entirely. He felt his lips part instinctively, and Coach's
tongue swept in, hot and insistent, claiming him in a way that left Ethan
weak-kneed and dizzy.

A murmured moan passed his lips--a sound that surprised even himself, low
and needy. His hands, which had been hanging awkwardly at his sides,
found their way to Coach's chest, grasping at the fabric of his shirt
like a lifeline. Coach's hands roamed freely now, sliding down Ethan's
back, kneading the muscles there before slipping lower to grip his ass.

A tremor ran through Ethan as the kiss faltered. He panicked--too much,
too fast. He broke away with a ragged breath. "Coach," he managed,
voice cracking, full of uncertainty.

But Coach didn't respond immediately. His hand settled firmly on
Ethan's waist--calm, reassuring. With a single, purposeful motion, he
drew him in closer, their bodies pressing together. The contact wasn't
aggressive, but it was steady, keeping him exactly where he needed to be.
As they stood there, up against each other, Ethan could feel the
unmistakable throb of Coach's arousal, and Ethan's chest tightened as
he felt it inflating with every breath, pushing against his upper
abdomen. The heat radiating from it was overwhelming, and the pulsing
rhythm of it seemed to echo through Ethan's own body, it was demanding
attention, growing thicker and harder with each heartbeat.

Ethan's mind raced, but his body betrayed him once again. His hips
shifted almost involuntarily, grinding forward into the firm pressure of
Coach's cock. The friction was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure
through him that he couldn't ignore. Coach's hand tightened on his
waist, guiding him, controlling the rhythm. Soon he felt himself grinding
against Coach, his hips moving of their own accord. It was like a switch
had been flipped, and suddenly, Ethan couldn't stop. The friction, the
pressure--it was intoxicating. A low, shaky moan escaped his lips before
he could stop it, and he dropped his head to Coach's chest, overwhelmed
by the sensation and the taboo of it all.

"You're so damn responsive," Coach growled, his voice low and husky.
"I knew you had it in you. You just needed someone to show you the
way."

Ethan's mind was a whirlwind of confusion and arousal. He'd never felt
like this before, never imagined he could. But here, in Coach's arms, it
felt... right. Like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. His hips
kept moving, grinding against Coach, and with every thrust, he felt more
of his resistance crumble.

"That's it," Coach praised, his voice rough with desire. "Let
yourself feel it. You've been holding back too long, kid. You don't
have to anymore."

Ethan's cheeks burned at the words, but he couldn't deny the thrill
they sent through him. He felt exposed, vulnerable, but also... wanted.
Needed. And Coach's tantalizing hands, his hypnotic voice, they were
like a drug, pulling him deeper and deeper into this intoxicating haze.

Coach's lips trailed back to Ethan's ear, his breath hot and heavy as
he spoke. "You're doing so well, Ethan. Just let me take care of you.
Let me show you what you've been missing."

Ethan's breath hitched, and he nodded, his body pliant in Coach's arms.
He didn't trust himself to speak, didn't trust his voice not to give
away just how much this was affecting him. But he didn't need to. Coach
seemed to understand, his hands moving again, sliding under Ethan's
shirt to explore the skin beneath.

The touch was electric, and Ethan shuddered, his eyes fluttering closed
as Coach's fingers traced the lines of his abs, the curve of his ribs.
It was like every nerve in his body was on fire, and he found himself
craving more, needing more.

"You're beautiful like this," Coach murmured, his voice thick with
desire. "So eager, so responsive. You were made for this, Ethan. Made
for me."

The words sent a shiver down Ethan's spine, and he felt himself grind
against Coach again, seeking more of that delicious friction. His cock,
albeit small, was aching now, straining against the fabric of his pants,
and he could feel the dampness there, evidence of just how much this was
affecting him.

Coach's hands moved lower, slipping under the waistband of Ethan's
shorts, and Ethan let out a strangled gasp. "Coach, wait," Ethan
stammered, his voice trembling. "I... I'm not... I mean, I'm not...
big." The words spilled out before he could stop them, his face red with
shame. He couldn't meet Coach's eyes, his gaze dropping to the floor as
his stomach twisted with anxiety.

But Coach didn't pull away. Instead, he chuckled softly, his hand still
resting against Ethan's hip. "Kid, you think that matters to me?" he
said, his voice low and calm. "Size doesn't define you. It's how you
use it." His thumb brushed against Ethan's skin, a reassuring touch
that made Ethan's breath catch in his throat.

Ethan's eyes flicked up hesitantly, searching Coach's face for any sign
of mockery or disappointment. But there was none. Instead, he saw a smug,
almost possessive gleam in Coach's eyes, as though Ethan's
vulnerability only made him more desirable.

"Trust me," Coach murmured, his lips brushing against Ethan's ear.
"I'm going to make you feel things you've never felt before. Your size
doesn't change that. I'm going to take care of you."

Ethan's breath shuddered, his body still trembling with embarrassment,
but something in Coach's tone soothed him. He felt exposed, raw, but
also... safe. Coach's confidence was intoxicating, and Ethan found
himself leaning into the touch, his fear giving way to a desperate need
for reassurance.

"You're perfect just the way you are," Coach whispered, his voice
dripping with certainty. "And I'm going to prove it to you."

Ethan's breath came in short, shallow gasps as Coach's imposing hand
slid further down, finally reaching his source of his shame and pinching
it between his thumb and index finger, like a giant handling something
far too small. His grip was firm, almost too much so, but there was a
certain gentleness beneath all that brute strength--as if even his
massive hands remembered how to be careful when it mattered. Ethan's
hips bucked instinctively, seeking more. His hands clutched at Coach's
shoulders, his nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as he tried to
ground himself.

"You're so hard," Coach said, his voice dripping with approval. "So
ready for me. You want this, don't you?"

Ethan's mind was spinning, his thoughts fragmented and incoherent. He
wanted this, needed it, but it was all so much, so overwhelming. He felt
himself nod, his body trembling as Coach's fingers began to move,
tugging at it with a rhythm that had him gasping and moaning.

"That's it," Coach encouraged, his lips trailing along Ethan's jaw.
"Let go. You're safe with me."

Ethan gasped, and he felt himself teetering on the edge, the pleasure
building with every stroke of Coach's hand. He'd never felt like this
before, never imagined it could feel this good. And then, with a low,
guttural moan, he came, his body shuddering as he spilled into Coach's
hand.

Coach held him through it, his arms strong and steady, his voice soft and
reassuring. "Good boy," he murmured, his lips brushing against Ethan's
ear. "You did so well."

Ethan's legs felt like jelly, and he sagged against Coach, his breath
coming in ragged gasps. His mind was a mess, his thoughts jumbled and
incoherent, but one thing was clear--he was in way over his head.

Coach pulled his hand away, and Ethan felt a wave of embarrassment as he
realized what had just happened. He opened his mouth to speak, to
apologize, to say something, but Coach cut him off.

"Don't," Coach said, his voice firm. "Don't overthink it.

Ethan swallowed hard, his throat dry and tight as his heart thundered in
his chest, each beat echoing the lingering shame and desire tangled
within him. His body felt heavy, exposed, and yet a part of him craved
more, even as his mind screamed to pull away.

Coach's lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk. "You're craving more
already, aren't you?"

Ethan felt his cheeks flush. He didn't answer, but he didn't need to.
The way his body trembled, the way his eyes couldn't meet Coach's, it
was all the answer he needed.

Coach chuckled, low and deep. "Don't worry, kid. I'll take care of
you. But first... let's get you cleaned up."

He reached for a towel, his movements slow and deliberate. Coach's hands
were on him again, and Ethan let out a shaky breath. "Coach, I... what if
someone finds out?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Coach's smirk softened into something more genuine, his eyes locking
onto Ethan's with an intensity that made the younger man's breath skip.
"Do you trust me, Ethan?" he asked, his voice low and steady, almost
hypnotic in its calmness.

Ethan hesitated, his mind still reeling from everything that had just
happened. But in that moment, with Coach's hand still resting firmly on
his waist and that unwavering gaze holding him captive, he found himself
nodding. "I... I think so," he whispered, the words barely audible.

Coach's lips curved into a slow, approving smile. "Good. That's all
that matters. Trust is everything, kid. Without it, none of this works."
His hand slid up to rest against Ethan's chest, right over his pounding
heartbeat. "You've already taken the first step. Now, all you have to
do is lean into it. Let me guide you. Let me show you what you're
capable of."

Ethan swallowed hard, his pulse racing under Coach's palm. Trust. It was
such a small word, but it felt like a weight pressing down on his chest.
His mind was a chaotic storm of confusion and guilt. How could I have
enjoyed that? he thought, his stomach knotting with shame. He had always
believed he was straight, had never imagined himself in a situation like
this. This isn't me. This can't be me. He felt torn, caught between the
undeniable pleasure Coach had just given him and the deep-seated belief
that this was wrong. He didn't know what the future held, and the
uncertainty terrified him. Trust?

Coach's words echoed in his ears--This is just the beginning--and the
thought sent a shudder through him. He wasn't sure he wanted this to go
any further, wasn't sure he could handle what "the beginning" might
lead to. He needed more time to think this through.

"Okay," Ethan murmured, his voice trembling--a fragile whisper that
held neither resolve nor defiance, only a fragile, uncertain surrender.
"I... I trust you." The words lingered in the air, heavy and uncertain,
as if they were more of a question than a statement. He wasn't sure if
he truly meant them, or if he was simply saying them because he didn't
know how else to respond. His mind was a tangled mess of conflicting
emotions--shame, arousal, confusion--but there was no denying the way his
body still thrummed with the lingering warmth of Coach's touch. Even
now, standing there with his heart racing, he could feel the weight of
Coach's presence, commanding and all-consuming. Was this trust? He
wasn't sure. But as Coach's eyes bore into his, dark and unyielding,
Ethan felt the faintest flicker of something undeniable--a desperate need
to belong, to be claimed, to be seen. And in that moment, he realized the
truth: whether he meant it or not, the words didn't matter. What
mattered was the way his body had already yielded, the way his heart had
already begun to lean into the promise of something more.

Coach's smile widened, something almost predatory in it. "Good. That's
all I needed to hear," Coach said, his voice low and smooth, like honey
laced with something darker. He leaned in, his lips brushing against
Ethan's ear, and the younger man's breath faltered. "Remember, Ethan,
this is about you. About what you need. And I'll be here every step of
the way."




TO BE CONTINUED