Jeramie Lecleaux is an eighteen-year-old teen detective and slut puppy. When trouble strikes, he uses his wits and his well-trained boypussy to root out clues and interrogate suspects. Dodgeball season is almost over, and the championship is coming up. Pembrooke Falls High School is a shoo-in to win, but on the afternoon of the tournament, disaster strikes. Jeramie thinks the score was tampered with, but there may be no way to prove his theory since the crowd’s attention was conveniently diverted. It will take all his brains, and every trick his boypussy can do, to work out what really happened.
Catching the Coach is a 12,500-word story.
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Excerpt
He decided to go look for Shaffeur. There was a possibility that the star dodgeball player hadn’t gone back to class yet. If so, Jeramie could ask him directly.
“Here’s hoping Shaffeur hasn’t finished changing,” he mumbled, beginning the short trek.
The locker room was located on the right side of the gym, near the Visitor bleachers. Jeramie noticed a strange noise as he drew closer to the entrance. The door was cracked ever so slightly. Whoever shut it didn’t make sure the door was closed all the way.
Even better, Jeramie recognized the sounds.
“Fuck me, Coach!” cried a familiar voice, deepening the boyslut detective’s suspicions.
The locker room carried the unmistakable fragrance of young males. Despite this, Jeramie detected a faint trace of something denser. It was heavier and held a much stronger musk which tickled the hairs in his nose.
This confirmed what Jeramie already knew was happening. He could hear deep grunts from far on the other side of the locker area. Heavy breaths came through the thick, moist air. There was the noticeable sound of thick hairy flesh smacking hard against the smooth, tender thighs of a much younger man.
“Please! Please! Please!” cried Shaffer, begging for more. “Fuck me, Coach!”
This left no doubt in his mind. Coach Ramirez was fucking Timothy Shaffer. And, from the sound of things, this wasn’t their first time.
A hot shiver of lust rolled down Jeramie’s spine. He felt the world tilt around him. The smells coming from the locker room were intoxicating, especially for a lusty little slut puppy like himself. Jeramie could feel his cock grow hard in his shorts. His faggot boypussy flexed and puckered, suddenly alive and slick with need.