Old School Chapter 1A

This story is about life and relationships in the 1960's, with lots of imaginary people and situations. They never existed and the events never occurred. Any characters portrayed in this story are fictional and not representative of anyone living or dead. Any places portrayed in this story are fictional and not representative of anywhere actual then or now.

WARNING: This story will involve wants, needs, desires and sexual actions between boys and men. It will involve many chapters; not all are for a quick toss-off. Do not read the contents if it will offend you. If accessing this story causes you to break local laws (village, town, city, county, province, state, or country, etc.), please leave now. I have an extremely active imagination; many fantasies live in my mind. It was difficult to give these thoughts 2 dimensions and this is my first written story.

With that said, I do want to thank John Teller The Storyteller, Joe Hunter and Brad Gillespie in steering, editing and encouraging. Anyone wishing to contact me can do so at philman35@yahoo.com

A small sermon. Nothing in life is free. Everything costs, and Nifty is no different, so please send them a couple of $'s/£'s to cover costs and stuff. They're very discreet, and you won't get your name in lights if you do. Donate here.

OLD SCHOOL

CHAPTER 1A: A Kid He Knew

In 1964 Principal Larry Reimer appreciated the success of the PE department at Kincard Junior High School, but the 3 1/2 coaches were not documenting any of their work or achievements. To receive federal money from the President's Council on Physical Education, they needed proof the department was achieving its goals. "Haha, Kincard PE has no goals" Reimer remembered thinking. So he suggested they hire an `intern coach' just to handle the admin side, create some goals and show how they achieve them. Coach Pete Jones agreed, and since the head coach was retiring after this year, Pete was a shoe-in for a promotion next fall.

The intern suggested by Reimer was a kid he knew from the YMCA. A young coach named Tom Vargas.

Yes, Principal Reimer knew Tommy Vargas from way back; ten years prior, when he was Tommy's 8th grade history teacher and Tommy was a teen volunteer at the Y.

That was back in 1954.

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Spring, 1954

Larry was still in his 30s in the spring of `54. Late 30s, but he was still shy of being over the hill. At 5'10" and a lean 154 pounds, he was happy he was still the size and height as he was in college. But he could see he was losing control of his body and his time fast. The girls were taking up a lot of his free time. Both were teenagers, so homework, projects, parties and weekend gatherings with other families were the agenda. There was less free time for Larry. That, and the toll of the `comfort foods' were not the optimum for staying fit. A box of `Little Debbies' was not at the house for very long. Larry loved his two daughters; Robin a junior in high school and Melanie a freshman. Thank God their mother was as lenient as he was about them going off without one of the parents with them. That meant fewer car rides were needed to their friends' houses, where the girls spent nearly every afternoon; doing homework, make-up and whatever else girls do together.

Larry was determined to keep in shape as well as be a good father and husband. His exercise routine was trying to swim laps daily in the Y's indoor pool. That was an acceptable `time-out' away from the home. Plus a special time the man enjoyed, but for another reason.

Last spring Larry noticed a wickedly cute young teen there. There was something about him - he seemed always to be there volunteering for something to do; whether it was cleaning the locker room, re-stacking the free weights on the exercise floor or just checking IDs of members as they showed up. He was definitely a good kid – shy, but funny when he did choose to speak. He wore the same pullover as the other YMCA staff wore, except his looked better on him. Not muscular, but all boy. And his name badge said Tommy.

"It sure would be nice to have a son" Larry often thought. But the wife declared no more children, so it wasn't to be. Besides, the interest he felt for Tommy was not the same paternal feeling he had for his girls. He didn't know what it was, but it was always a pleasure to see his smile and listen to his jokes when he was brave enough to say anything. And it was a real treat when he was out from behind the desk. Larry was quick to notice on Tommy one thing he frequently looked for at the school.

When the boys were in shorts for PE, the amount of hair on their legs ran equal to how developed they were physically. Few of the 8^th graders have hair on their thighs; none of the 7^th. It was nice to see Tommy had only very fine hair down on his lower legs; meaning he was due for a summer growth period and all that goes with it. Throughout the spring, Tommy was shy to new people and at 5 feet tall he was always worried about being too short.

But over the summer, the magic of human nature, puberty, hit him full force. Tommy had a growth spurt; in height, size and hair where it counted for a boy wanting to grow up.

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Once school began that fall, Mr. Reimer found his own daily interest doubled because Tommy was also enrolled in his 4^th period History class. And the same shy, short, dark haired lad of several months ago stood at a respectable 5'4". And during the first week of class, the shy boy four months ago voluntarily recited the Gettysburg Address in front of the class without a flinch. Good to see he was no longer shy or worried about his being slow to grow.

This blossoming made him even more attractive to the teacher. Tommy was an on-target 14 year old boy, which was the age of attraction for this happy husband and father of 2 girls. Why do you think he taught 8^th grade? Being a teacher in the early '50s was not as restricting as being, say, a principal. He could still tease around with his students and outside of the school he could be their friend. School was not even brought up at the YMCA. Here was a place where they were all equals. Boys went there to become men. And men went there to be boys again. Tommy Vargas as an early teenager went there to learn all he could about men, to surround himself with the manliness of the place. His own father was killed in the war, so there was a longing to know the man in the picture he kept on his dresser. Tommy immersed himself all he could with men; smell the sweat of jocks, watch their muscles flex and become bigger. His totally one track mind filled him with more and more fantasies, juicing himself up until he thought his balls would explode.

And so Larry Reimer was more than a history teacher to Tommy. Larry was a player in Tommy's playful male world.

You see, at 14, Tommy didn't know what made him more excited - getting to first base with Heidi, his and his little sister's 21 year old babysitter, or finding a sweaty jockstrap and a wet towel on the men's locker room floor. Tommy loved to daydream about the men working out as he worked himself up. As he straightened the free weight room, his eyes were moving the entire time. He watched them push 200 pounds from the bench, usually with a buddy serving as spotter. He saw the muscles sculpting under the sweatpants, along with incredible bulges and shapely asses. Buddies playfully swatted each other when they made a good basket in a game of hoops in the gym or passed their weight goal for the day. Oh shazam, he'd love to be a spotter for Larry Reimer.

With a half-hard woody, Tommy daydreamed at that thought...

"Larry is grasping the weight bar, my eyes move further down his torso, past his hard stomach, over the waistband of his sweat shorts ... watching the inside of his muscular thighs clutch the bench, making his bulge thrust up ...magically, the sweats disappear and Larry is wearing only boxer shorts. And only I can see the bulge growing...."

But then the boy could not imagine what was inside. He was sure from day 1 of History that there was indeed a bulge in his teacher's dress slacks; they were dark blue and the material of the suit he wore hid any direct view. But conniving boys have their way. On his way out the door, Tommy walked back to the teacher's desk with a quick question after class. He knew that with the teacher turned sideways, he would be able to see any bulge at an angle.

What wasn't there before under Larry's slacks became obvious when the pleasantly surprised teacher was approached by the cutest 8^th grader in the school, asking a question about the homework. Now the boy he had been watching for a year at the Y is coming toward him and was kept down at his crotch. His Hanes' boxers combined with the cotton slacks to hold down the seven inches which would have stood out at a 45 degree angle. Held down yes, but a noticeable bulge was created.

Tommy, of course, was pleased with his tactic. In a way, so was Larry Reimer.

By the middle of the first week of school, knowing that afternoon he'd be at the Y, not too deep in Tommy's 14 year old hormone dripping mind, some thing told him to grab a spare bath towel and tuck it in with his YMCA work uniform before he left the house. Later that day, as the boy was gathering his books after 4^th period History class, Larry Reimer noticed Tommy again was the last to leave the room.

"It's getting rough at the house and I really need to get 100 laps in. Are you going to be there?" Larry was pretty sure the lad would be there, but wanted to let him know the married man was interested in seeing him again that day.

"Yep, nifty!" was all an overjoyed Tommy could think of saying. Tommy could feel what the teacher could see; a tell tale redness moved over the teen's face.

Later at the Y's front desk, the anxious teen was looking at the clock every 3 minutes, knowing Larry was going to show up by 5 p.m. He so much as SAID so earlier that afternoon. Around 4:45 pm, Larry parked his blue family station wagon in the YMCA parking lot. Usually he parked over outside the pool in case he needed something from the car, but there was a spot near the door, which Larry wouldn't pass up. Walking through the main door to the front desk, he saw Tommy's smile across the room.

"Hi Larry! Welcome to the YMCA this wonderful Thursday. This makes three times for you this week!" Tommy was on a special roll that day, propelled by unknown forces.

"So, are we doing those happy strokes today?"

Larry responded with a wink and a nod to this grinning whippersnapper. And in a flash, Tommy could not believe he said that to a teacher!

"Happy strokes?' Shees, that sounds like rubbing one out. He'll think I meant that, I know he will." The precociousness of this boyish slip-up was all the embarrassed teen could think about. He meant it in comparison to the man's home life, but it all came out wrong. A blush covered his teenage face.

Luckily, Larry had laughed it off, thinking back to his own days of unfettered boldness and had already turned down the hallway toward the locker room.

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