Dazzled By The Light

Tristan is about to turn eighteen. He has his whole life ahead of him. He has one more baseball game before the end of the season and his graduation. A lucky punch from a fellow team mate pits him against his Coach who does not tolerate fighting of any kind. Can he persuade Coach Blake to keep him in the team for the last, most important game of the season?

Tristan Gillman is quite possibly the best pitcher Carl Blake has ever coached. The star pitcher is about to become more than just Carl's student though. Will they cope with the fall out of this fatal attraction or will they be Dazzled By The Light?


2. We need to talk!

Tristan pulled up in front of the drive and pushed his truck into park.  He sat for several minutes outside the house of his Coach and now lover, Carl Blake.  Since their first “encounter” two weeks ago there had been several more “get togethers” in Carl’s office; slammed up against the lockers in the locker room and one amazingly mind blowing shower session.  Each time they had met they had taken a big risk having sex in the school.  Each time they had finished Carl had told him it had to be the last time.  They both knew what the consequences would be if they were caught.  Carl would most definitely lose his job and Tristan did not want that no matter how good the sex was.


Tristan would probably be suspended and lose his place on the team.  This probably didn’t seem as bad as Carl’s fate but when you are applying for colleges on a sports scholarship as well as being a straight A student in every other subject being suspended for having an affair with a teacher was not going to look good on his record.


They had agreed that they needed to talk, away from the school, away from the locker room that just seemed to fire up their desire for each other.  They couldn’t really be seen in public so Carl had suggested that they meet at his house where they could talk and not be afraid of being interrupted or caught.  Tristan knew that being at Carl’s house was probably going to lead to more great sex but he was also aware that they really did need to sort this situation out.


In the two weeks since that first night Tristan had turned eighteen.  Carl Blake was twenty eight.  The ten year age gap would probably not have meant anything if Tristan had been a little older.  He had life changing decisions to make about his future though, and as much fun as being with Carl had been, they both knew it couldn’t last.  Carl had no wish to hold Tristan back and Tristan had no wish to damage Carl’s career.


Tristan climbed out of his truck and walked up to Carl’s front door.  It was dark, but he couldn’t help feeling a little paranoid, wondering if anyone was watching him.  His presence at a teacher’s house at night was bound to look suspicious.  No one in this neighbourhood knew him though, and therefore no one would know he was a student.  He rang the door bell and waited, leaning against the door frame, one arm above his head, his thumb thrust into the belt hook of his jeans.


This was how he was as Carl opened the door.  Neither of them said a word, they just regarded each other for a few moments, blue eyes meeting dark brown ones.  Tristan’s eyebrows flicked up and down comically and Carl chuckled both at the sassiness of this guy and at the effect he had on him.  Carl stepped aside and indicated for Tristan to enter.  Tristan pushed himself away from the door frame and walked past Carl and into his house.


This was it.  Carl had invited him here and here he stood in his living room, large as life.  At school Tristan was the student; Carl was the teacher; but here they were equals.  A line had been crossed that night, two weeks ago, on Carl’s desk, but here in his house; away from any danger of being discovered or caught; there was finally no barrier.  Two adults alone together.


Tristan stood in the middle of the room.  He suddenly looked less certain of himself than Carl had ever seen him look before.  He suddenly looked so young, when before Carl had seen a man, he realised he was looking at a boy who had just turned eighteen.  Carl was suddenly filled with doubt and fear and uncertainty himself.  What the hell was he doing with this boy, his student?  What the hell would the rest of the world think of him, a twenty eight year old teacher seducing an eighteen year old boy?


It had not been him that had done the seducing though, he reminded himself.  Tristan had been the one that had made the first move, bending him backwards over his desk and kissing him so forcefully, so passionately.  But then Carl had taken over, he had taken the lead, when Tristan had uttered those words “I want you to fuck me.” Carl’s brain had switched off and his body had taken over, his body and his lust.


He had flipped Tristan until he was bent forward over the desk and he had taken him so completely and Tristan had given himself so utterly.  Their simultaneous orgasms had been mind blowing for both of them.  They had come screaming each other’s names with no thought that anyone might hear them.  Their subsequent meetings had been equally as mind blowing and equally as vocal.


Carl could feel his body reacting to the memories of their couplings over the last two weeks.  He broke out into a sweat because he was trying to fight against it this time.  No matter how hard he wanted to get inside this kid’s pants they needed to talk and they had to do it before they got carried away.


Their eyes were locked together for those moments both reliving the memories of the first time and the second and the third and the fourth.  Oh God.  Carl was the first to look away.  He turned with a sigh and headed to his kitchen,


“Do you want a beer?” he asked as casually as he could.  Tristan chuckled nervously,


“That sounds so grown up.” he said, “Bein’ asked that.  My dad said it on my birthday and it was like a right of passage or somethin’ even though he knew I’d b’n drinkin’ fer at least two years.”  Tristan followed him into the kitchen,


“It is like a right of passage.” Carl handed him a cold bottle of Bud which he had opened, “My dad was the same.”


“Is it a right of passage fer the kid or the parent though?” Tristan asked philosophically.  Carl was always struck by the depth of thinking of this kid.  Tristan was a conundrum.  He was a straight A student but he chose to play baseball with a bunch of barely graduating jocks.  He was a good pitcher though, better than good and he could get into several colleges on a sports scholarship alone.  Tristan was good at everything though.  He was a shining star and Carl felt suddenly dazzled by him.


Tristan took a drink from his bottle, holding it up and clashing the neck to Carl’s own bottle in salute.  Carl regarded him, swallowing his own mouthful of beer and trying not to notice how Tristan tipped his head back to drink from his bottle, exposing his Adam’s apple.  Carl shuddered a little to fight back the urge to attack Tristan’s neck with his lips.


He was fighting a losing battle though as Tristan stopped drinking and gazed at Carl with those big blue eyes and those long lashes.  He took another swig, with a slight smirk on his face, knowing that Carl was close to making a move.  He just had to make it a little easier for him.  He tipped his head back again but never got another drink as the bottle was knocked from his hand and hot lips were sucking on his exposed neck.  He cried out in surprise as he was pushed back against the kitchen bench and the lips moved up to his jaw then his cheek then his mouth.


Their tongues explored, brushing against each other as they pushed into each other’s mouths.  Tristan grabbed a handful of Carl’s hair and tipped his head back so that he could kiss the man’s neck.  He heard Carl’s breath catch in his throat as his tongue brushed a line from one side of his neck to the other.  Then their mouths were joined again, tongues entwined.  Tristan pulled at Carl’s t shirt and Carl lifted his arms to make it easier for Tristan to pull it over his head.  Tristan pulled his own t shirt off and threw it aside to take Carl in his arms and feel skin against skin.


Tristan’s moan of pleasure sent Carl’s senses whirling.  He could feel his arousal growing; Tristan’s skin against his was electric.  He pushed him further back against the bench then lifted him onto it.  Tristan wrapped his legs around Carl, his moans and gasps becoming more urgent, more needy as Carl lips never left his.  Carl could wait no longer, he wanted this so much; from the moment he had opened the door and seen that sassy, sexy look in Tristan’s eyes.  His hands moved to Tristan’s belt and jeans and began to undo them.  Tristan’s hands pushed down inside Carl’s waist band and grabbed his ass pulling him closer; feeling their growing bulges pressing together, the friction of their jeans sending them both wild with desire.


Carl couldn’t think straight he was so aroused, he felt if he didn’t do something soon he would shoot in his pants, so turned on was he by Tristan’s complete surrender to his kisses and touch.


The jeans were undone and pulled off, Tristan’s discarded on the floor, Carl’s pooled around his ankles.  Their cocks, now both rock solid, pressed together between them.  Carl could wait no longer he lifted Tristan slightly, wrapping his legs higher around his waist.  He fumbled along the bench for something to use as lubricant and found a bottle of olive oil.  He tipped some in his hands and rubbed it on himself and then his fingers moved to Tristan’s opening.


Tristan gasped as Carl pushed one then two slick fingers inside him, stretching him and preparing him.  A third was added and Tristan gasped with pleasure as they pressed against that sensitive spot inside him.  There was no time to enjoy this before Carl had withdrawn his fingers and was tearing at a condom packet, rolling it on and pushing into him with his hard cock.  Tristan cried out in surprise and pain,


“Slowly.” He gasped, “Slowly, Carl, shit, you’re an animal tonight.” He was sweating with the effort not to pull away.  Carl was indeed forceful, but oh my god he was good at this; good at getting Tristan so worked up he felt he would come before he had even finished undressing.  Just the heat of his breath in his ear, whispering his name sent him into orgasmic ecstasy.


Forcing himself to slow his pace, Carl pushed into Tristan until he was fully inside him, feeling Tristan’s muscles contract then relax.  Carl found that spot again and as the younger man sighed with pleasure he knew that this was as good for him as it was for himself.  He felt on fire, inside Tristan, it felt so right.  Slowly he began to move and Tristan moaned again and Carl gasped with the sensation of being inside him.  It felt so hot and tight and he knew he could not last long listening to Tristan’s moans and feeling his hot breath on his cheek as he held onto him and pulled him further inside him,


“Carl.” He gasped, “Oh my god Carl,” Carl pulled back to look into those amazing blue eyes and then took hold of Tristan’s erection moving his hand up and down the shaft in rhythm with his thrusts.  He buried his face into Tristan’s shoulder,


“Shit, Tristan, this is so good, so fucking good.”


“Carl, I always knew it would be this good with you. Always.” He gave a shudder and cried out as he came, spilling over Carl’s hand.  The contraction of his muscles around Carl sent him over the edge and he gave one more thrust before gasping and coming inside him, filling him with his hot seed.  He collapsed breathlessly into Tristan’s arms, both men laughing and kissing.


Carl pulled out slowly, feeling Tristan shudder slightly at the unpleasant sensation.  He discarded the condom and Tristan jumped down from the bench, holding onto it for support because his legs felt weak.  He was still breathing hard; his dark hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and Carl thought he had never seen anything so damn gorgeous.  He pulled the young man that seemed to have hijacked his heart into his arms and Tristan buried his face into Carl’s shoulder, brushing his lips against his skin, tasting the sweat that was beaded there.  Carl gasped with pleasure, burying his hands into Tristan’s hair.  Tristan’s arms slid up Carl’s back and they stood holding each other, feeling the warmth of each other’s bodies.


They stood there for a few moments lost in the afterglow of the pleasure they had just shared, then Carl felt Tristan's lips turn up into a grin,


“So what did you wanna talk about, Coach?” Tristan asked him impishly, but all Carl could manage in reply was a strangled whimper.

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