NOTICE: The contents of this story are purely fictional, and the content of this story includes love between male teens. If this is not what you expected, or it is illegal for you to read this material because of the laws governing your area, then don't read it! This story is copyrighted by the author and may not be reproduced or published elsewhere without the author's written permission.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well everybody, we're finally here. This is the first installment of a two-part final chapter to the story of Ricky & Lance. I have really enjoyed writing this story (why else would anyone do something like this?), and I have been very grateful for the heartening responses from you, the readers. As always, I love to hear from all of you...I hope you like the ending. Enjoy.
Comments are always welcome. Send them to: Rickdog38@gay.com
CHAPTER TWELVE, PART ONE: FLYIN' HIGH
I gripped Lance's hand nervously, as I felt the plane begin rapidly accelerating to takeoff speed.
"Oh fuck..." I muttered to myself under my breath.
Lance squeezed my left hand tightly in his. "It's ok, Ricky. Just take a deep breath babe, and relax. Once we're up in the air, it's much better."
I gave him a worried smile, but continued to hold my breath anxiously as my right hand worked nervously on the little `squeezy' ball the physical therapist had given me to help strengthen my right hand after the surgery. I don't know why I should be afraid of flying. Maybe it's a control thing, but I'm not really sure. All I know is, this will be the first time in my entire life I have ever left the comforting feeling of having my feet (or something) safely connected to the ground, and I already don't like it.
"Oh my god..." I groaned, as the jet angled up sharply, and the whole bottom dropped out of my stomach as we shot quickly up into the air. I looked cautiously out the window to see the ground below us receding rapidly. Then, the whole fucking ground abruptly disappeared. Shit! Now, we were totally over the water. Of course, in the back of my head, I knew that all the planes that take off from LAX head out immediately over the ocean upon takeoff. But, it wasn't nearly the same thing as sitting inside a plane going several hundred miles an hour and realizing that there was no longer any firm ground beneath us. I've never considered myself a `Christian' in the literal sense of the word, but right about then I was pretty close to having my own religious experience.
I still can't believe I'm sitting here next to Lance in an airplane, on our way to Orlando. As is fucking Florida. Like, Mickey Mouse and orange juice. Shit, the farthest outside California I think I've ever been is Lake Havasu City...which must be, what...at least 10 miles beyond the State line?
Just two weeks ago Sunday, I had been sitting next to Lance on the sofa watching a late night movie, when he got a phone call. From Australia, believe it or not...from the Director of the Australian Junior Golf Association, as I later found out. Lance had just sat there for several minutes listening and giving short, polite answers to questions I couldn't hear. By the look on his face, it hardly seemed important.
Eventually, he hung up the phone and looked at me with a slight smile.
"So, what was all that about, Lancer?" I asked.
"You ever fancy a trip to Florida, Ricky?" he said.
"Well, ya...sure...it would be cool to go there some day."
"Good, because we're leaving in two weeks," he said with a big grin.
"Huh?" I said, now very confused. "What the hell are you talking about, babe?"
"Well, it seems that they want me to go and play for Australia in the World Junior Match Play Championships this year, between Christmas and New Years in Orlando; in the 17-18 year old bracket. The blokes who finished first and second in our national junior championship this year just turned pro last month, and since I finished second in last year's nationals...I guess they thought I was as good as they could do on short notice," he laughed. "I'm also already more than half-way there. It's an awful long trip from Melbourne to Orlando. But, it sounds like a lotta fun, Ricky. The whole thing will be on TV and everything. And, the winner in my bracket gets a spot in the Open Championship (as in the `British Open' to us yanks...) next year as an amateur. Whatya think about that?"
"Fuckin' A, Lancer! I think you have an awesome chance. I know you can play good enough to beat just about anyone when you're on, babe."
"I reckon I'm gonna need my caddy to come along," he smiled, "and just to be proper, I expect I better bring my boyfriend too," he grinned, as I gave him a little slug on his shoulder.
Hmmm. Wait a minute. "But, you know I could never afford anything like that, Lance. Shit, my mom would probably kill me if I even suggested it," I said sadly.
"That's what makes this whole deal sweet as, Ricky! Australian Junior Golf is paying for it. Won't cost you a penny, babe. Nor me. First class flight...free hotel room...all meals paid for...hell, you can even go to Disneyworld for free if ya wanna."
"Well, I guess my Mom will have a hard time finding a way to shoot that down. Fuck, even if she says no, I'm goin' anyway. I can't let you play without me!" I said, as I jumped into his lap facing him.
"Wouldn't dream of it, Tiger," he said smiling at me, and then he gave me a big wet smooch.
So, here we are sitting on a plane to Florida. By ourselves. On Christmas day. None of our parents were able to come; they all had to stay home, and take care of their various work commitments. Ya, in the end it took a lot of doing to get my mom to sign off on it (I think Bill threatened make her PTA president or something, if she didn't let me go...). But, we made all the arrangements ourselves...planning everything out to the last detail, just to show our parents we were mature enough to handle something like this on our own. Thank god for the Internet!
Not that he would ever say so, but I could tell Lance was both excited as he could be, and a little nervous at the same time. He would be playing against the 64 best 17 & 18-year-old male golfers in the world in single elimination match play. There were some incredible players in the field; most of them will eventually be on pro tours, I'm sure. But I knew the Aussie boy wonder sitting next to me had two huge things in his favor. First, he was relatively unknown at this level. Second, he was an awesome match player. Match play was totally different than stroke play: all you had to do in match play was beat the one person you were playing against over 18 holes, one hole at a time. Then do it again in the next match, and so on until you either lost a match, or won 6 matches and the tournament.
Lance was incredibly consistent, and mentally he was so tough that he was hard to beat in that format. He just ground people into the dirt, eventually. Of course, he always did it with his usual warm smile, and cheerful disposition. It just drove people crazy.
"It's ok Ricky, you can let go of my hand now," Lance said, bringing my thoughts back to the present moment. "I think I need to get some blood flowing in there again before it's too late," he smiled.
I eased my grip on his hand, and gently began to massage some circulation back into it for him. "Sorry babe. I'm just a little nervous about this flying business...you know that."
Just then, the first class stewardess appeared beside Lance at the aisle, and asked us if we wanted a drink or a snack. As she said that, I could see her eyes move to where our hands were still clasped together on Lances lap. I could see her expression visibly change, as she immediately comprehended the nature of our relationship. I willed myself to give her a confident and relaxed smile, as she caught my eye. She looked at us a little differently from then on, but treated us the same as the other passengers. Then again, maybe it was just my imagination...
Lance opened the door to our hotel room with his card-key, and we dragged ourselves and all of our stuff inside, totally exhausted. As I took in the room with my eyes, my face lit up when I saw the huge Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom.
"Oh, cool Lancer! Look at that Jacuzzi tub! We're gonna have lots of fun with that, babe," I said, with a sexy grin. "And wow, check this out!" I said gleefully, as I ran across the room and drew back a big curtain, to reveal a nice sized outdoor balcony behind a big sliding door. We were on the 10th floor, so the view was pretty good. We overlooked a lake, with one of the famous Orlando attractions visible across on the other side. The desk girl had said to watch for the fireworks show they have over the lake on Friday and Saturday nights. It's supposed to be a pretty big deal.
"It's getting pretty late, Ricky. I reckon we oughta hop in the tub there, and then get to bed. We have to make it to the players meeting at 7 in the morning," Lance reminded me. "Remember babe, that's like getting up at 3 AM California time."
I just groaned to myself, as I was turning on the water to fill the tub. "Don't forget to call the desk and get a wake up call, Lancer. Hell, just a phone call might not even do it for me at that time of day. Maybe you should order a fire drill or something," I laughed.
As I came back into the main room, I could see Lance had already removed his clothes, and was facing away from me putting his things in a drawer. I quietly slipped in behind him, and wrapped my arms tightly around his waist as I kissed his neck and his shoulders softly. "Hey there, sexy..." I whispered in his ear, while I rubbed my hands all over his chest and his flat hard stomach. "Meet me in the tub in about twenty seconds," I whispered in my sexiest voice.
Well, the desk girl was certainly right about the fireworks. Only, she forgot to mention that they were also happening tonight, and that they happened right in our very own bathroom. I think one of Lance's bottle rockets even managed to hit the ceiling. I'm sorry! I didn't realize where I was aiming! We really weren't trying to do any interior decorating. Honest! But what the hell, I don't plan on being here to explain it when the housekeeper comes in the morning, anyway. Thank god they always come when you're out of the room...
Lance practically had to dress me, and drag me down the hallway to the elevator the next morning. The sun was clearly coming up, but my body was screaming that it was all just a huge mistake. The sun couldn't possibly be up at this hour!
Once we were inside the elevator, Lance gave me an evil grin. "I think I know how to wake you up, Tiger," he said, raising one eyebrow the way he does. He leaned over and pulled me into a really tight hug, and laid the hottest, wettest kiss on me that I'd experienced for a good while. God, I love early morning, just brushed our teeth, hot enough to melt glass, really wet, sloppy French kisses. Jeez! Talk about instant boner time...
Lance grinned at me as he wiped the slobber off his mouth, and pressed the button to send the elevator on its way. "Thanks a lot babe," I said in frustration, "now I gotta greet anyone else that comes on the elevator with some serious wood here..." I looked down and noticed something else. "Oops, hehehe...I guess you've got an even BIGGER problem than I do, Lancer," I laughed. It was quite obvious that the monster was already awake this morning.
We walked into the meeting room, and got into line as Lance checked himself in. As I stood there next to Lance daydreaming while I waited, something occurred to me as my eyes wandered around the room. Man, what is it about teenage male golfers? At least the really good ones, anyway. The room was full of cute boys from ages 13 to 18, and it was quite a sight to see. It looked like a goddam teenboy modeling convention or something. Everywhere I looked, I could see handsome, slim, tanned, fit looking boys. Maybe it was just because they were all serious athletes. But wow!
First, we had to sit through a painfully boring orientation meeting. After that, they posted the draw for the different sections of the tournament. As everyone quickly huddled around to see their draw, Lance and I decided to find out when we had been assigned our range time and tee time for our practice round today (we wanted a fairly late time anyway, so we could have a leisurely breakfast and perhaps even a little nap before hitting the range and the course). By the time we got to the front of the group looking at the draws, everyone else was just about gone anyway. Lance ran his eyes down the sheet to find his name. As he studied his draw, I could see him frown slightly to himself.
"What's the matter, Lancer?" I asked.
"Nothin' to worry yourself about Ricky. Let's go eat some breakfast. We might have a chance for a little rest before our time, if we get moving here."
Hmmm. I knew that answer meant that something was definitely on his mind, but that he wasn't quite ready to discuss it with me. Sometimes, he thinks it's better if he doesn't tell me certain things right away. He honestly thinks he's doing it for my own benefit...he doesn't want me to worry about it. He thinks I worry too much sometimes, and maybe he's right. But, I worry even more when I know something is up, and I don't know what it is! That just makes me crazy, and he knows it.
We got our food from the cafeteria line, and sat down in a quiet corner by ourselves. "Come on Lancer...spill it. I know you're keeping something from me. You know how much I hate that," I said, pleading with my eyes.
Lance looked at me for a moment in deep thought. Then, his face softened, and he gave me a little smile. "I'm sorry, babe. It's probably nothing, really. The last thing I wanted was for you to get yourself all worked up about it. I just thought I recognized one of the names in my draw, but I wasn't quite sure. Maybe I played against him one time, or read the name somewhere. No worries, Ricky. Really. Ok?"
I gave him a skeptical look. But the sweet, loving, innocent grin I got back was enough to earn him the benefit of the doubt for now. With that little issue behind us, we finished our breakfast over some pleasant, meaningless small talk, and headed back upstairs to `rest' until our range time. With some food in me, I was finally beginning to approach my normal level of alertness and mental functioning for the morning (like I said...I am not a morning person). But, at the moment, I was actually feeling a little high on life. Here we were together in Florida, at a tournament where Lance could really break out as a world-class player, which I definitely think he is by the way! We had just shared a nice quiet breakfast together; and, after that initial little awkward moment, we lapsed into our usual playful mode. We could just sit and talk with each other for hours and entertain ourselves silly. God I love that.
As we left the cafeteria, a wave of that warm feeling that my love for Lance gives me at times suddenly just washed over me. Without even thinking, I smiled to myself and my hand reached out and wrapped around his, as we walked to the elevator. We grinned at each other silently in the elevator, knowing that we had a little time to play before we had to `go to work' so to speak. I could barely keep myself from going completely hard before we made it to the room. The elevator door opened at our floor, and we stepped off and turned towards our room, still hand in hand. We both started walking a little faster, and grinned knowingly at each other.
"Well, look what we got here boys..." a loud voice spoke out behind us, with a pronounced Texas drawl, "We got ourselves a couple of faggots."
Lance and I both stopped dead in our tracks, mostly just from the shock of what we were hearing. We briefly looked at each other in confusion, and then turned to look behind us. Standing there were three very large muscular teens all with military style buzz cuts sneering at us.
"You two are an abomination to the Lord. Homosexuality is a sin boys. Y'all are goin' straight to hell, you know that don't ya?" the one who was clearly the leader of the group asked us with a look of total dismay on his face.
Now he was really getting on my nerves. "Oh ya? Well you can just..." I began hotly, but Lance gave me a quick look while he squeezed my hand gently. That was his signal to me to just keep my mouth shut. So, I decided to go along with his request—for the moment.
"Hey...I know you..." the asshole began again, pointing at Lance. "Yer that McGann fella, from Australia. I kicked your ass a few years ago in San Diego, didn't I? You come back for another ass-kickin' boy?" he laughed.
"I'm Lance McGann, you got that part right, mate. If you make it to the semi's, I guess we'll just have to wait and see about who gets a bloody ass-kicking, won't we?" Lance replied calmly.
"Oh, I'd love a chance to whip your faggot ass again, boy. I'll be in the semi's, you can count on that."
Lance just gave him the look...that confident, slightly smiling look he gives all his competitors just before he destroys them on the course. Then Lance turned silently, and led me away to our room.
Once inside, we flopped down on the bed side by side. Lance let out a big sigh as he stared at the ceiling. I could tell he was just waiting for me to go off, so I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. I propped my head up on my elbow and gave him a long penetrating look. "So? Who the fuck is that?" I asked as calmly as I could, and waited for him to explain that last little encounter.
Lance gave me an apologetic look. "Well, Ricky...you just had the questionable pleasure of meeting Tyler James Allen III, or `T.J.' as most people call him. He's quite a piece of work. His father is one of those Texas billionaires, and a real religious type. What do you yanks call `em? Bible beaters, I think it is. But I didn't know he was such a homophobe and a bigot, though.
He's just a spoiled little shit, really. He's always had the best game money could buy. David Leadbetter and Butch Harmon have both coached him at different times. Ya, I played him in the world juniors in San Diego when I was fourteen, and he beat me. It was a difficult time for me, because I was really struggling with my feelings for Cory, and he wasn't there with me at the time, so I was missing him terribly. I just didn't have myself together. Still, I should have beaten T.J. One of the few tournaments I've lost that I really felt bad about how I played. I totally handed the thing to him on the back nine, and he thinks he just kicked my ass. I can't wait for a chance to play him, Rick. Don't worry. I'm ready for him now."
"Lancer, I'm a little disappointed you wouldn't tell me about it until after this bullshit in the hallway," I said with a frown. "Why can't you just be honest with me? You don't need to protect me from anything."
"You're totally right, Ricky. I'm sorry. It's just my natural instinct to protect the person I love from anything that would trouble you. But, like I said, I just thought he was an asshole before. I didn't know he was a gay-hater too."
"What if they make an issue of us being gay in front of everyone?" I asked. "Are you ready to deal with that all week? I mean we're talking television and newspapers and all kinda stuff here this week, Lancer."
"Ricky, you already know the answer to that question, I hope," he said sincerely. "We're just gonna go about our business the same as we would do any other time. If somebody wants to make it their business, that's their choice. But, if we're gonna make a statement, it's gonna be on the golf course, not in the newspaper."
"Besides," he grinned, "I bet the idea of losing to me is just about as scary to T.J. as it was to Brent."
He put his hand gently on my chest. "I don't want you gettin' all buggered up about `what if' Ricky. One day at a time, one shot at a time. That's all we can do."
I gave him a half-hearted smile, but I still wasn't totally convinced.
"C'mere Tiger," he said, pulling me into a tight hug. Somehow, he already knew that was just what I needed at the moment to ease my mind. When Lance's arms were wrapped around me, all my worries seemed so much smaller.
Of course, the news had already spread like wildfire before we even got to the practice range. As we walked across the grass together, conversations ended abruptly, as all eyes silently watched us pass. I sighed to myself, and shook my head. Do we have to go through this gawking phase every place we go? I knew it would end soon enough when people got bored with it, but it was getting tiresome. I wanted to run over to the P.A. announcer and steal his microphone.
"Attention all you idiots out there. Lance and I are just two teenage guys who happen to be in love with each other. There is no need to stare at us. I repeat: there is no need to stare. We are no different than any of you; we just want to compete, and do our best. Can't we all just go out and play some golf here?"
As we walked past T.J., he and his two friends just smiled evil smiles at us. Clearly, they were enjoying this. I looked over at Lance, and he just shook his head sadly, and gave me a quick little smile. "Come on, Ricky. Let's focus on getting ready to win this thing."
We finished our range time without any interruptions, and headed to the tee at our designated start time for today's practice round. I wasn't at all surprised to find that the other player scheduled at the same time with us suddenly had to re-schedule for later in the day. What idiots. What do they think; it's contagious or something?
In the end, it turned out to be to our advantage to be playing alone for the practice round. We got to spend a little extra time on each hole analyzing the green, trying different approach shots, and practicing chipping and putting from different angles. Because we always enjoyed each other's company on the course, it was nice not to have any unwanted distractions. I ended up with several pages of notes, and at the end of the day we had both agreed on a game plan for each hole we intended to stick to for every round. We felt totally prepared and totally confident. Lance had been practicing hard for the last two weeks, and his game was very sharp.
As we returned to our room, Lance flopped lazily on the bed again. "I'm gonna take a nap, Ricky. Somehow, I gotta recover from this jet lag before I play tomorrow."
"Ok, Lancer," I replied. "Maybe I'll go down and swim some laps at the pool. I'm way too wound up to sleep right now. If I work off some of my nervous energy, maybe I won't keep you awake all night tonight," I chuckled to myself. I got my surfer trunks on, grabbed my bag, kissed my love on the head, and headed down to the pool by myself.
I had kinda gotten into swimming for exercise since I met Lance (and because he had a pool, duh...). I enjoyed the monotonous repetition of the stokes and the breathing, because after a while, you could just go along on autopilot while your mind was free to wander wherever it liked. I did some of my best thinking in the lap pool. Lance also commented how much he liked the little extra shoulder and arm muscles I was working on too.
I walked out to the pool, threw my towel on an empty lounge chair (as far away from anyone else as I could find), pulled down my goggles, and got down to work. I'm not sure how long I swam (I really have no sense of time when my mind wanders off like it does when I swim...), but I was really beat by the time I dragged myself from the water. I tiredly toweled myself off, and fell into the lounge chair to rest and get some much-appreciated sun.
The next thing I knew, somebody was talking to me, but I had no idea what they were saying. My eyes squinted open to reveal a nicely tanned, very handsome teenage boy staring down at me expectantly. He looked a little younger than me, but slightly taller.
"Well, can you?" he said.
"Huh?...Can I what?" I said groggily.
"I said, is it ok to leave my stuff here while I swim some laps? Can you keep an eye on it for me, please?" he asked politely.
"Uh...ya...sure, I guess." As I watched him turn and walk towards the water, I realized that he was wearing a racing Speedo, and he had an incredible body. He dove lithely into the water, and swam quickly and effortlessly across the pool. Man, was he good. I've never seen anyone swim that fast without even looking like he was trying. I just shook my head to myself, and turned over on my stomach to get some sun on my back.
I must have dozed off again, because I awoke later with a start, as a few drops of cool water landed on my back. "What the...?" I said a little annoyed.
"Oh, gosh, I'm sorry. I was trying not to wake you up, since you were doing such a good job of watching my stuff for me," he laughed with a very soft, vaguely southern accent.
I lifted my head up, and turned to look at him again. My eyes immediately came to rest on the front of his Speedo's, which were directly in front of my face as he stood there drying his short brown spiky hair with his towel. Oh my god! This kid had a monster dick that would make even Lance jealous. It wrapped almost all the way across his hip inside his racing suit. I could feel myself stiffening rapidly as my eyes traced along the length of it.
Shit Rick! You cannot do this! You are in love with the handsomest, nicest guy in the world. What would he think, if he saw you getting' boned up here just looking at another guy? This is sooo not like you, Rick! You've never gotten like this around other guys besides Lance before...what is fucking wrong with you?
I felt terrible as I sat there berating myself for even getting hard looking at him. I began to feel a little panic...I had to do something to get myself out of there. But, before I could even think about it, he sat down across from me with his towel modestly in his lap.
"I really didn't mean to get you wet, you know," he smiled. "I hope you're not mad at me? I'm James, by the way."
"Oh...no...uh, I'm not mad...it just takes me a minute to get my head together when I wake up," I said absently. "Hey James. Rick Williams here."
"So, are you playing this week?" he asked.
"Oh, uh...no," I replied, "I'm loopin' for my boy...uh...I mean my best friend this week. He's playing in the 17-18's. You?"
"Ya, I'm in the 14's. Heck, your friend is lucky. I gotta carry for myself. My dad says it will make me more self-reliant," he said, as he rolled his eyes.
"Well, if you play golf half as good as you swim, you should do pretty well this week, anyway," I chuckled. "I've never seen anyone swim that fast and that smooth. You should, like, be trying out for the Olympics, dude."
He gave me a sad look. "Ya, I really like swimming. But my dad won't let me be on the swim team, because he says it takes too much time away from golf...and he thinks swimming is `too gay' if you can believe that," he said with an awkward laugh.
Once his incredibly big dick was safely hidden from my view behind his towel, my big head was finally able to take over for my little head, and we ended up having a long conversation. But, I just couldn't stop staring at his eyes. They were the most brilliant sky blue I had ever seen.
As we talked, I discovered he was a very intelligent, soft spoken and sensitive guy with a quiet sense of humor. It turned out that we had a lot in common in some weird way. We had fairly similar personalities, and major issues with our fathers, as it turned out. He said he was from a very rich family, and was shipped off to boarding schools at an early age. It sounded like he didn't see his father very much, and when he did it wasn't usually very pleasant. His father was very strict and controlling with him, demanding perfection at all times. We both compared our absent/emotionally difficult relationships with our fathers. I'm not sure who had it worse. I kinda felt sorry for James; at least my dad had been removed from my life a long time ago, much to my gratitude. After a while, his quietness seemed mainly due to sadness and loneliness to me, more than anything. He actually reminded me quite a lot of myself, before I met Lance.
We had basically used up all the daylight that remained as we were talking, and now that the sun was going down it was getting a little uncomfortable. Between the humidity and the pool water, we were both feeling sticky again.
"I gotta go rinse off all this chlorine, and get out of this suit. They have a nice locker room and sauna next to the pool here. You should rinse off too...it's bad for your suit," he stated, as he stood and gathered all his stuff in his arms.
So, you see it was actually James' idea, but we both headed to the shower room/sauna for a quick rinse off.
We walked into the deserted shower room. He turned on the hot water, and immediately dropped his racing suit to the floor, kicking it off with his toe. He turned his back to the wall, and leaned his whole body backwards under the water. He stood there with his eyes closed, rubbing the chlorine out of his hair.
All I could do was just stand there staring with my mouth open at his gorgeous tanned, smooth swimmers body, and huge meat. He had just enough dusting of dark brown hair around the base of his shaft to be plainly noticeable, and the tiniest wisps under his long, lanky arms. Of course, I was immediately boned.
I turned my back to him, as I wiggled my surfer trunks down over my butt. I was scared to death that he would see me erect. I pulled my trunks off, and held them in my hands to rinse them out under the shower spray. I stole a glance over my shoulder at James, and saw him looking at my butt. He noticed me looking at him, and shyly turned half way toward the wall, sticking his head under the water again. From this side profile, I could easily tell that his dick had lengthened considerably, and was standing out a little bit farther from his body.
Oh my god! He's turned on by me too! Oh fuck...I gotta control myself here. I can't let him get the wrong idea...
I busied myself with washing off, while I tried to will my dick back down to normal. But, the image of his half-hard monster dick wouldn't leave my head. The big one, or the little one. I simply couldn't control my eyes, as they glanced back over my shoulder. He was now soaping up his body, still slightly turned away from me. As he turned to soap his back, I caught another glimpse of his dick, which was clearly fully erect at this point. It was hard as steel, longer than Lance by at least an inch or two, and totally horizontal (I think that's as `high' as it gets when he's hard...). He caught my eyes again, with a panicked look on his face, and turned away abruptly.
That's it Rick! You have got to get yourself out of here! If you keep staring at his dick, you're gonna end up on your knees swallowing it pretty soon. Don't trust yourself! Get the fuck out of here, before you ruin everything you idiot!
I finally listened to my instincts, and half-walked, half-ran out of the showers into the changing room; breathing hard, my heart racing, and my mind still in chaos. I sat down and put my head in my hands and wept softly to myself, just thinking about what almost happened. I can't believe it was that hard for me to walk away. I can't believe that goddam little head could have such powerful control over me. Fuck!
I eventually heard the other shower shut off, and James timidly peeked around the corner. He slowly walked over to where his bag was next to me, with his towel around his waist, careful not to look me in the eye.
"Uh...I'm sorry Rick...I don't want to give you the wrong idea...I'm not...uh...well...sometimes it just happens, you know?" he said awkwardly. "You aren't gonna tell anyone are you?" he said nervously.
I let out a big sigh. I think I can handle this now. "James," I said softly, "you don't need to lie to me, ok? I'm sure you noticed I was just as hard as you were in there. You have an incredible body, James. You're just amazing. I had to get myself out of there before I did anything I would regret later. You see James; I'm already in a committed relationship. I have the most wonderful boyfriend in the world, and we plan on being together for the rest of our lives. I would just kill myself if I ever ruined that."
I gave him a heartfelt look. His face showed a little bit of confusion, and a lot of relief. "Although it will never happen, if I wasn't already with Lance, I'd be all over you in a second, James. You have a body to die for, and you're a really nice guy."
"Sounds like you're pretty lucky, Rick. I wish I could have what you have, but I know I can't," he said sadly, as he sat down beside me. "I wasn't really coming on to you; I just couldn't keep it down around you. You're just so cute, and totally nice too. I know I could never really have a boyfriend. Shit, if my dad ever found out, he would literally kill me. Actually, he would probably just pay somebody else to do it for him," he laughed awkwardly.
"Friends?" I asked, holding out my hand.
"Ya, Rick...that would be great," he smiled wistfully as he took my hand.
"Well, good luck tomorrow. I'll see ya around again I hope. We're on the 10th floor...room 1029. Look us up if you get a chance, ok?" I asked, as I grabbed my stuff and headed out the door. I was still feeling the urgent need to get out of that room with James. As I headed back up to face Lance, I could feel myself slowly getting swallowed up with guilt. By the time the elevator door opened at our floor, the tears were already starting to fall. I quietly let myself into the room, and noticed Lance was still asleep. I lay myself down on the other bed (the one we weren't using to sleep on at night), buried my face in a pillow, and quietly cried myself to sleep.
I awoke an hour later to the touch of Lance's hand, as he gently rubbed my back. I was immediately awake at that point, but I stayed motionless with my face still buried in the pillow. I knew if I looked at him, I would surely lose it.
"Time to get yourself up, Tiger. We need to get some dinner. You won't be able to sleep tonight if you nap too long now," he said, as he got up off the bed. I heard him in the bathroom for a moment, and then he returned to the side of the bed.
"I mean it babe, I'm hungry!" he laughed, as he whacked me on the butt.
"Ow! Hey, knock it off!" I said angrily, as I shot him a look. I immediately buried my face in my pillow again, realizing my mistake. There was a long silence before Lance finally sat down gently beside me on the bed. I felt his hand softly come to rest on my shoulder.
"Hey there..." he said quietly, as he stroked my back again, "What's the matter babe? You look like you've been crying. Tell me what's wrong...please?"
I fought with myself for several agonizing moments while I lay there motionless...totally paralyzed. I wanted to tell him; but I was scared to death at the same time. I swear to god, if I ruined my relationship with Lance, I was planning on going right off the 10th floor balcony. Now.
I felt Lance's hot breath against my ear, as he leaned down and kissed the side of my head. "You need to tell me what's bothering you, Ricky. We're a team, remember?"
God. That totally broke me. At that point, I just cried hopelessly into my pillow. But, after a while I realized I was eventually gonna have to get this over with. I rolled over on my back, and looked long and hard into his warm, dark eyes. They convinced me that I shouldn't be afraid. I had to tell him the truth. "Babe, I have to tell you what happened down at the pool..." I began, as I explained everything to him, and how terrible it made me feel.
"It's ok, Ricky. Don't you see? You just passed one of life's little tests. You stayed true to me, and I can't tell you how good that makes me feel. You know I love you more than anything, right?" he said. "If you look at a handsome guy and have a reaction...uh...down there...it just means you're a normal, healthy gay boy. You shouldn't feel bad about that." He explained. "Now I see what Cory was talking about..." he smiled to himself.
"Don't act so surprised, Ricky. It's OK. Really. Let me explain," he said calmly. "I told you before that I still occasionally talk to Corey in my dreams. He's very happy for us, and he really likes you a lot babe. He thinks you're perfect for me," he said with a smile. "He told me that you passed the test. I didn't understand at the time, but now I see what he meant."
OK. Something seriously weird is happening here. I feel like Rod Serling should be doing his voice-over any second now. "But, Lance," I interrupted, " I thought you dreamt about talking to Corey. But that's not it, is it? You really talk to him, don't you?" I said in amazement.
"I dunno, exactly. I can't really explain it to you, but it really was him. Was it a dream? Was it some part of him that still lives inside me? Was it something else? I just don't reckon I can say for sure. He just told me that you passed the test. You stayed faithful to me. He knew you would, and he was very proud of you."
"C'mere Tiger," he said, wrapping me into a big hug. "God, I love you so much. You're gonna have to do a lot worse than that to get rid of me, you know," he said with a chuckle.
Oh man. Here come the tears again. He always knows just what to say to get me flowing with those happy tears at times like this. I squeezed him as tightly as I could. As our hardness rubbed together between us, I pulled my head back and looked him in the eyes again. "Babe...I really need to feel you inside me right now. Its just...I dunno...it makes me feel like I'm a part of you. It just makes me feel like we are totally together...it's hard to explain. I just need you...please?" I begged. Lance just gave me an understanding smile, and reached down to help me pull my shirt off.
"Ooohhhhhh god Lancer..." I sighed, as my whole body shuddered with the exquisite pleasure of feeling him slowly and gently entering me. As I lay there, face down on the bed with Lance draped across my back and nibbling on my ears, I could feel my anguish and my self-doubts slowly being washed away by his love, as it flooded through every part of my body.