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. Daddy’s birthday is nearly here, but Jeramie still needs to get his father a present. A quick errand turns into a baffling mystery. Even more suspicious, though, is Ricky’s behavior. Has Jeramie’s best friend got a secret of his own?
Cheating Coach is a 25,000-word story.
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Excerpt
Coach studied Jeramie for a moment. Slowly, he bent over slightly so as to look Jeramie in the eye.
“Listen,” he said in a gentle voice, placing a big hand down on Jeramie’s slender shoulder. “What goes on between Shaffeur and I… well, it’s not your fault, and it’s not your problem.”
Jeramie raised his head. “Really?” he asked, feeling uncertain. “Because…”
“Because nothing.” Coach didn’t give Jeramie the chance to recover. “He and I have some things to work out. Maybe I should have been clearer to him. About… a lot of things. But you didn’t make things bad between us. That’s on me.”
Jeramie couldn’t help himself. Coach was naked. He knew Coach’s smell drove him wild and made his cock spring to life and bounce in his pants. Spreading his arms wide, Jeramie reached out and gave Coach a big hug. The two boxes of underwear—his father’s birthday present––that he had been carrying around with him fell to the floor, forgotten.
Immediately, Jeramie felt himself drowning in Coach’s sweat and scent. The changing room tilted. Before he knew it, Jeramie was on his knees. Coach Ramirez’s cock was right in front of him. The thick tube of man meat was starting to fill out. A thick runny line of precum was already drooling down out of the piss slit, making a stain there on the carpet.
Jeramie couldn’t resist anymore. He launched forward like a young man starved and inhaled Coach’s big cock down his throat. The precum flooded his mouth at once, coating his tongue. Jeramie moaned deeply at the taste. It was like heaven and fireworks going off on his tongue.
“Fuuucckkkk,” Coach groaned, louder than he’d meant to. “You are one insatiable little faggot, ain’cha?”