Teen Bodybuilder -- Part 5 email@example.com
This story contains scenes involving sexual contact between college-aged males. If you do not enjoy such stories, or it is illegal to read such stories in your jurisdiction, please do not continue reading.
I had never felt so humiliated -- so embarrassed -- so damn foolish -- in my entire life. What a stupid rookie mistake! Here I was in my first collegiate swim meet, swimming in the very first event, and I was disqualified! DQ'd! Deeked! What was worse -- it was a relay, meaning three of my teammates were also out! "How could I have messed up like that?" I thought to myself.
Usually, relays are swum in the evenings, with the finals -- morning swims are to determine the top 16 places for the finals. But with several teams in attendance, many with A, B and even C relays, the relays had to swim for placement. I was on my team's B relay -- the fastest guys were always on A, but I was with the next fastest group. I was the anchor for the 200 yard free, each guy just swimming a 50. I was SURE Daniel's fingers had reached the wall before my feet left the block, but the swim ref said no, and that was final. Our team had done well -- a time that would have been 5th, and the guys were going nuts with happiness, until the ref had tapped me on the shoulder and DQ'd me, and our relay. My three friends were crushed, but nothing they felt compared to my humiliation at costing them the race. I saw how my teammates avoided me as we walked back toward our section of bleachers. The coach just shook his head, disappointment on his face. Pete scowled at me, and whispered something I couldn't hear, and didn't want to.
Only Timmy came to me and put an arm around my sagging shoulders. "Listen, mate," he said in his thick Aussie accent, "it's OK -- you just got nervous up there -- it happens to all of us, especially as freshman. Don't let it shake you -- use this as a lesson on how to hold back that extra split second and not panic on the blocks!" Timmy then patted my backside with a friendly swat and gave me a big smile. I smiled weakly and muttered "thanks" to Timmy, but still felt physically ill over my stupid mistake.
I didn't have long to sulk -- the 200 freestyle heats were on the blocks soon enough. I did OK -- I'd gone slightly faster a week ago in our team's intrasquad meet, but my time was still 12th -- good enough to score a few points in the evening's consolation race. A couple more events were swum, alternating between men and women, then it was time for a break for diving prelims. I hurried to the locker room to take a piss, then came back out on deck. The pool at the campus was not new -- built maybe twenty years ago, and so the spectator's bleachers were on the same level -- not on a deck above like at most newer college pools. I smiled when I saw Tyler in the stands waving to me, motioning me over. Tyler had skipped Friday morning classes to come and cheer for me!
I walked quickly over to the seating area and began climbing up to the 5th row, where Tyler sat. I hadn't even thought about wrapping a towel around myself, or slipping some shorts over my suit - but now I regretted that lack of foresight. The small racing suit left nothing to the imagination as it hugged my body, swelling in front at the masculine bulge. I noticed the attention I attracted from the female spectators as they ogled me in the Speedo, their eyes instinctively straying to my packed groin area. Good grief -- some of these women were my teammates' moms -- their sisters -- maybe even grandmothers! A number of girls from the campus were there also, eyeing me as I made my way up to row five. Once there, I had to scoot half-way down the row to where Tyler sat. The row was crowded with college-aged guys -- probably friends or brothers of some teammates. Now, what was I to do? Scoot facing them, my crotch at their eye level? Or face away, my ass at their eye level? Either choice was bad, but an ass-in-the-face seemed ruder than a crotch, so I faced them.
I noticed their eyes -- like the females, straying to my barely-covered bulge, small smiles and even leers flickering briefly across their faces. A couple reached hands around my waist to help steady me and prevent me from falling, but it seemed their hands stayed there a little longer than needed. One older male fan seated among the college kids-- in his thirties, maybe -- put both hands on my waist, then blatantly slid his thumb over to my obvious bulge and firmly pressed and rubbed me along my shaft as I struggled to step over his feet without tripping and falling on the row below. I was shocked at the man's touch, and nearly leapt over the last three people before plopping into the open seat next to Tyler. Glancing back down the row, I could see the older guy looking my way, smiling lewdly and licking his lips.
Tyler had noticed none of this -- he was too busy slapping me on the back, congratulating me on the 12th place finish in the 200. "Dude, you were awesome. Did you know you negatively split that 200?" I now looked at Tyler, surprised he even knew the term `negative split'. As if reading my mind, Tyler said, "Yeah, I know what it means -- you swam the second 100 faster than the first! That's amazing!" I quickly forgot the groping I'd experienced and settled down to relax with my roommate. Tyler had seen the DQ appear on the scoreboard, but did not realize I was the one who'd messed up. "I'm sorry, Eric," he said, "I know how disappointed you are. But what's past is past -- you can make up for it by kicking ass in your IM later this morning and getting a good seed for tonight! And I know your teammates will forgive you -- they know how hard you are working, how dedicated you are to this team. They will be bummed for a little while, then all will be forgiven and forgotten!" "I hope so," I replied, "God, I hate letting those guys on the relay down like that!"
A voice from behind us said, "Eric, you didn't let us down -- don't be so hard on yourself. It was a tiny timing mistake -- with practice and more meets, you will beat that." I spun around and saw Daniel sitting with his folks in the row behind us. "It's no biggie -- we all get deeked at least once or twice!" Daniel continued. I said, "Thanks, Daniel, I will try not to mess up again -- I just feel so bad you guys can't swim the relay tonight." "Well, we still have the medley relay prelims at the end of the morning -- since you are the backstroker, you CAN"T DQ unless you go before the starter's beep, so just hold still until you hear it!" Daniel said, laughing. Introductions were made all around, and Tyler and I found ourselves invited to lunch by Daniel's family after the morning heats were over.
When it was time to return to the pool deck, Daniel came down one row to walk with me back toward the bleacher stairs. Glancing down at my near nakedness, he whispered to me, "Now you see why we put on shorts before coming into the stands? Imagine if you get a boner right now -- how will you get out of this crowd without being groped and fondled at least two or three times?" The mention of boners, fondling, etc., got the juices flowing, as such talk often does with teenaged guys, and I suddenly felt myself begin to swell `down there'. Daniel led the way back down the row, with me close behind. But the tangle of legs and feet soon had us separated. I decided to scoot with my ass facing the guys I needed to pass, but quickly turned around when the second one I passed whispered "nice ass" to his snickering buddy. Now, I faced the row, with my swollen member thrusting outward in the small suit. And the groper was just ahead, waiting for me, staring open-mouthed at my obvious erection. I tried to twist and squirm quickly past the man, but my bare feet got tangled between someone's legs and I lost my balance. I found myself falling onto the guys seated along the row as they tried to catch me. I found myself face down, stretched across several laps, with my crotch buried in the groper's lap, my ass in the man's face. As I tried to right myself, I felt a hand on my butt cheek, squeezing and fondling me, a finger probing at my barely covered crack. I swiveled my head back to see the groper winking at me while his hands were busy toying with the ass in his lap. I clambered back to a standing position and pushed on down the row, no longer noticing the admiring glances and occasional smirks of the dudes I passed who got an eyeful of my hardened manhood stretching the thin fabric. I reached the stairs and hurried down to the deck where Daniel waited for me. I glanced back up to the 5th row and glared at the older man who had so blatantly fondled me, and cursed the man under my breath. He simply smiled and winked in return.
The rest of the morning went well -- I had a lifetime best in the 200 IM, and qualified 6th for the evening race. Our relay team also did well, just missing top 8 by two-tenths of a second. By the end of the morning prelims, my teammates had forgotten the DQ, and all were happy with my other swims. All except Pete, who continued to pester me about the DQ and what potential points it may have cost the team. Jimmy was on deck, busily pouring ice into plastic bags for the swimmers to wrap across aching shoulders and strained wrists, and he overheard one of Pete's snide remarks to me. "Leave him alone, Pete," Jimmy uncharacteristically snapped at the much larger athlete. "Or are you just angry that Eric's 200 IM time was faster than yours?" Pete glowered at the smaller boy, then walked away.
Lunch was very pleasant -- Daniel's parents were very nice, and I could see his relationship with them was as strong as mine was with my own folks. My parents were coming into town early tomorrow to watch the morning heats, then we would go out to lunch and hang around the campus before the evening swims. I was excited for them to meet Tyler -- I certainly wasn't going to tell them about my special feelings for him -- I wasn't ready for that yet. I just wanted to see what they thought of him.
Tyler and I went back to our dorm room about two in the afternoon -- coach had suggested we swimmers should try to get a power nap for an hour or so, and that's exactly what I did. Tyler took off for the campus gym to get in a workout, and to let me sleep. I was back at the pool by five, ready to warm-up for the evening swims that began at six. I felt really loose -- powerful -- in my warm-up, and hoped I would have some good swims that evening. Our "A" relay crushed everyone in the 4x50 free relay, and soon enough it was time for my 200 free. I was swimming in the consolation race, but could still score points for my team. I took the race out a little too hard, and was really struggling in the final 50, but was able to hold on for 2nd place, and my time was nearly half a second faster than my morning swim, so that was cool. Our women's team was doing really well also, if not winning, then getting 2nd and 3rd in nearly every race. The 200 IM was next -- as I walked to lane 7, I saw Pete heading for lane 8.
Swimming races are seeded by lanes -- the fastest qualifier swims in lane 4, 2nd fastest in 5, 3rd in 3, 4th in 6 -- spreading outward in that staggered fashion. As the 6th seed from the morning, I was in lane 7, and Pete, who was 8th in the prelims, was in lane 8 at night. I expected -- well, I wasn't sure what to expect from him, maybe another snide remark or a challenge. Instead, he surprised me by coming over to me and patting me on the shoulder, wishing me good luck. "Hey, thanks Pete," I replied, "kick some butt yourself!" Timmy had qualified first, and swam in lane 4, leaving the rest of us in his wake with a phenomenal time of 1:54. Pete and I fought to get to the wall -- he leading in the fly, me catching him in back, both even in breast, and racing neck and neck in the free. Every time my head popped above the water in breaststroke, I swear I could hear Tyler in the stands screaming "Go, Eric! Go, Eric!" When we hit the wall, Pete and I were amazed -- we'd tied for 4th with identical times of 1:59:98! I was elated, never having broken 2:03 before, and Pete seemed pleased as well. We shook hands, and he said, "You did good, kid." "You, too," I said. Then he made me blush by whispering, "Guess our little shave-down last night really did help you get nice and slick!"
Our final relay of the evening did well also, winning the consolation heat. At the end of the evening, my team was in second place, only trailing the leading squad by about 20 points. We were ecstatic, and talked excitedly about our races coming up the following day. As the teams began heading toward the locker room, I jumped in the pool to warm-down a little after the final relay swim. Climbing out of the water a few minutes later, I could see a few dozen fans still in the stands, Tyler among them. I hurried toward the bleachers, then stopped, realizing how nearly naked I was in the tight suit. I'd turned to go back and grab some shorts when I noticed someone waving at me from another section of seats. I did a double-take, thinking, "It can't be." But it was -- there he was smiling and waving at me -- Chris -- or was it his twin David? -- from my youth team of a few years ago. It was them I had watched once in the shower, helping each other shave their bodies, becoming so aroused at the sight of the two lean teens soaping and shaving each other's taut bodies when I was about 14, and they were about 17 or 18. My shorts forgotten, I raced over to the bleachers. I high-fived Tyler and asked him to wait for me -- there was someone I needed to say hi to.
As I climbed toward the twin -- still not sure which one -- I couldn't stop smiling. What was he doing here -- did he come to watch me swim? Weren't they still in college, swimming for -- where was it -- Indiana? He stood, slowly, as I approached, oddly supporting himself on crutches. "Oh, man" I thought, what did he do, sprain his ank..." And then I noticed something that stopped me dead, a goofy smile frozen on my face. From the bottom of his khaki shorts his left leg supported him -- a leg as tan and muscular as I remembered. But his right leg was...gone. For a moment I thought he was bending his leg back at the knee for some silly reason, but there was no knee -- no thigh -- nothing but an empty leg of his shorts. I forced myself to walk the final few steps to his outstretched hand. "OK, which one am I - David or Chris?" he teased me. But I could say nothing -- I glanced down at the leg- the missing leg -- then back up, telling myself "Don't stare!" No words would escape my lips -- I just stood there holding his strong hand, staring into his eyes, afraid to look anywhere else. Finally I looked straight down, toward my own strong, powerful legs, and suddenly felt ashamed to stand before him like this, as if flaunting my healthy limbs.
"Well, I'm David -- you never could tell us apart, Eric!" "Yeah, yeah," I mumbled stupidly. "Wha...what are you doing here?" "Well, I'm on a campus tour for grad school -- I knew you were on the swim team here, so I timed my visit for a weekend when I could see you swim," he answered. "But...but you and Chris swim for Indiana," I said, my voice cracking as I glanced downward again, though I'd tried not to. "My competitive days are over now -- I was a senior last year anyway. And then the accident happened last spring." "Accident?" I repeated numbly. Then I remembered -- "Oh, I remember hearing you were in a car accident last spring somewhere around Bloomington. But, I thought...I mean I heard...well, someone said it wasn't that bad -- you walked away." "Yeah, I did walk away, though my leg was badly injured. And I thought I was fine -- then some sort of bone infection set in, and soon I was in the hospital in critical condition. They had to, well, remove most of my right leg."
I looked down again at the empty space beneath him, and could feel tears filling my eyes as I looked back at his face. "I'm so, so sorry, David," was all I could say. "Hey," he said, "I'm adjusting OK. It's been hard, but my family and friends have been so supportive, so helpful." I was overcome with emotion, thinking of this promising young athlete facing something so daunting, so life-altering. "Aren't you angry? Aren't you, well, pissed off? That this horrible thing has happened to you?" I couldn't believe I was blurting these words out -- but I couldn't help trembling and shaking with outrage at the unjust world that would allow this to happen! He smiled warmly, and placed his hand on my shoulder. "I've experienced all that, and much, much more. But I've come to realize you sometimes need to confront what life throws at you, and just do the best you can. Besides, things have a way of balancing out. I want you to meet my fiancee -- Ellen -- she was my therapist in rehab last summer. We just got engaged." For the first time I noticed the small, pretty young lady standing quietly next to him.
After that, we sat together for several minutes, catching up on old times. I was amazed he had kept up with my swimming, and had known I'd made the team at State. It was the same David -- nice, funny, sincere -- that I'd known a few years before, and it was wonderful to see him again. He complimented me on my times, then told me to keep my hips up during backstroke -- my butt was riding too low in the water! "Just like the old days," I laughed. He and Ellen were starting the drive home that evening, so couldn't join me for dinner. We said our good-byes, and I hugged him awkwardly, trying not to throw him off-balance, but needing to hold him -- to feel him -- to know the rest of him was healthy. I watched him carefully hop and scoot toward the exit, while Tyler, who'd been waiting for me, now came over. I told him about David -- the accident -- everything. Tyler seemed unfazed by the missing leg, instead commenting, "Did you see the size of his forearms? That dude is strong as hell!" I laughed aloud, and wrapped an arm around Ty's shoulder as we walked down to the pool deck together.
After a late dinner with some teammates, I was back in the room preparing for bed when Tyler came in. He'd gone out with some friends after the meet, but came back early. "I knew you'd want to get to bed early for a good night's sleep, so I came back early so I wouldn't disturb you later." He sat on the edge of his bed, his muscular legs hanging over the side, protruding from his cargo shorts. I suddenly knelt on the floor next to his feet, and began to softly caress his calves, his thighs with their bulging quadriceps and hamstrings. The strength in his powerful legs always amazed me -- the hard cordons of steel-like muscle, swelling and growing under his taut skin. I couldn't help touching his thighs -- rubbing them, fondling them -- luxuriating in the mighty power of them. Tyler's thighs were so sensitive, so ticklish to my touch, but he let me continue caressing him there for some time. He finally sighed contentedly, smiling down at me. "Ty," I said, "are we just lucky? Or blessed? We are so healthy -- you so, well, so perfect." He placed a hand on my shoulder and softly said, "Still thinking about David?" "Yeah, I guess so," I said quietly. I continued, saying, "I wish bad things didn't happen to good people."
Tyler smiled warmly and said, "I wish bad things never happened to anyone -- good or bad. But I guess God - or whoever or whatever controls this universe -- knows who can handle what. David seems like a strong, confident, sensible guy. I think his life will take him in all sorts of amazing directions -- maybe not all the ones he'd planned on, but new ones -- different ones. And that can be a good thing."
Words of comfort and common sense once again from the big lug. Tyler never ceased to amaze me.
Saturday morning came too soon. Back to the pool I went, with Tyler tagging along. Once there, Ty helped Jimmy set up for the morning heats, filling the water coolers, placing the lap counters at the end of each lane, etc. The pool was packed with swimmers doing warm-ups -- guys and girls from the various teams, some practicing dives in the lanes reserved for that, most just doing laps, stretching muscles and sinew, preparing their bodies for the races ahead. Walking around the deck, I noticed just how awesome some of the guys there really were. The team from Tech had some awesome studs -- muscled dudes packed into tight, low-cut jammer suits. A cross-state rival team wore bright red Speedos, a color I always found so provocative. And on their lean, tight swimmers' bodies, the too-small suits were stretched to the max, barely covering them at all. I was shocked to find myself becoming aroused at the parade of manly bodies around me, and I quickly dove into a lap lane to cool down a little.
As I left the pool to prepare for the start of prelims, I kept glancing into the stands and soon located my parents. I quickly slipped a pair of shorts over my suit and went up to see them. They hugged me, my Mom exclaiming, "Aren't they feeding you here? You look thin as a rail!" "Mom, I'm fine -- I'm eating like a horse every day!" I assured her. Dad shook my hand, then pulled me into a bear hug, whispering how glad he was to see me. We chatted for a few minutes, then I headed back down to the deck to join my team. On the way back, I noticed the "groper" from yesterday seated in the first row of bleachers, a camera with a big zoom lens in his hand. He didn't see me -- instead, he put the camera to his eye and began shooting. Curious about his subject, I looked in the direction his lens was pointing -- at one of our rivals, who was standing on the deck maybe fifteen feet from the cameraman, bending and stretching in his ridiculously small, revealing suit. "Oh," I thought, "he's here to `capture some memories' of the meet." Then it hit me: "Maybe he's just here to take some pics of guys in Speedos? Could that be it?" Putting my theory to the test, I stripped off my shorts and walked to a spot just a few feet from my rival, and I began to stretch and flex, as if readying for the first race. My rival's suit was small, but mine was even briefer. I stretched, but at an angle where I could see the man out of the corner of my eye. Just as I feared, the lens swung toward me, and his finger pressed the shutter time after time. The idea of this stranger snapping picture after picture of me in my nearly nude condition was unnerving, yet oddly arousing. I felt as if I was just meat on display, and he was using the camera lens to publicly rape me! The idea of this stranger taking pictures of me seemed to both repulse me and stimulate me in some unnatural, carnal way. What was wrong with me, I wondered? I quickly put the shorts back on and joined my teammates.
Our team did well on this second day -- many of us qualified for the Top 8 finals. I swam a 100 free -- and qualified 8th! My 200 backstroke was OK -- I finished 11th, so would swim the evening consolation race. Timmy finished Top 8 in -- count `em -- three different events. The dude was on fire at this meet! Pete seemed in better spirits today than yesterday, and co-captain Kevin broke a school record that had stood for three years. Coach had asked Tyler if he minded staying on deck to help out, and he readily agreed. Tyler took splits, delivered our relay cards to the refs, and always brought me my water bottle, freshly filled.
About half-way through the meet, Pete was slow climbing out of the water after his 50 free. He complained he'd pulled a muscle in his shoulder, which was bad news for tonight since he'd just qualified 3rd in the race. Coach told him to get a rub-down, but the only massage therapist on deck had two people still waiting. Suddenly Coach turned to Tyler and said, "Hey Tyler, you know all about muscles -- could you just rub Pete's shoulder a little, help ease his muscle back into shape?" I knew Tyler was a little familiar with basic massage therapy, and the massages he'd given me in our room after a hard practice had felt wonderful. "Well, I'm not a massage therapist," Tyler protested. "Oh, I know, I know," said Coach, "just see if you can help him a little, if you don't mind." Soon, Pete was stretched face-down on the bleacher with Tyler kneeling next to him, kneading and squeezing the aching tendon in the swimmer's shoulder. "Man, that feels good," said Pete softly. Watching this, I felt a pang of jealousy, but of course said nothing. "Why should I be jealous?" I asked myself. "Tyler's just helping out a teammate." But still, the site of Tyler touching Pete's body made me a little uncomfortable, maybe even a little angry, considering what Pete and Kevin had done to me two evenings before. Tyler glanced up at me, and I think he could read my mind. He shrugged his shoulders as if to say `What can I do?', then winked at me. That made me feel some better.
After the prelims, I went over to my parents, and brought them over to meet Tyler. "Oh, YOUR'E Tyler -- Eric never stops talking about you," gushed my Mom, before grabbing him and hugging him, while he blushed slightly! Dad shook hands, and commented on Tyler's impressive build, which his tight tee-shirt highlighted instead of covered. The folks insisted Tyler join us for lunch, which he gratefully accepted. Afterwards, we both gave them a tour of campus, and then drove around town a little to check out the sites. I still needed my nap, which they understood, so they went off to a shopping mall after dropping me and Ty back at the dorm. Back in our room, I was climbing into bed when Tyler said, "Were you a little angry -- or maybe jealous -- when I gave Pete that massage?" "Well, a little jealous, I guess," I replied. "Eric," he said, "you have nothing to be jealous of -- at all -- you know how I feel about you. It was just that your coach asked, and I didn't want to tell him no." "I understand, Ty," I said, " I guess I'm just the jealous type!" He laughed and pulled the blanket up over my face, telling me, "Get a good nap -- I'll be back in about an hour to wake you!'
The night finals would prove to be exciting. As promised, Ty was back in time to wake me and ride bikes with me to the pool. My parents were some of the first in the stands. I was shocked to see the groper/cameraman strolling the pool deck, snapping pictures of guys stretching, doing ab crunches, or just standing around. Nobody seemed to even notice him, probably thinking he was a parent, or from a local paper or something. Coach told me to get some practice dives in, and every time I climbed the stairs to exit the water, he was almost in font of me, snapping away at my exposed body. It annoyed me that he was so bold -- daring to take my picture without asking. I finally walked right over to him and quietly confronted him, asking him why he was taking pictures of me. He smiled and simply said, "Because you are such a beautiful young man," then turned and walked away. I didn't know what to say -- should I be angry? Insulted? His statement left me more perplexed than anything else, so I just walked back to our team area and sat down, pondering his statement. Did the guy find me attractive? Was he "interested" in me? The whole thing seemed too bizarre, so I just shook my head and decided to focus on the meet.
My 100 free was awesome -- I went a new personal best time of 46.9 seconds, and finished 6th. My backstroke also went well, and our relays were over the top -- both our guys' and girls' A teams broke school records in the final 4x100 free relay. I was, as usual, on the B relay, but that was fine with me. I didn't DQ, and we had an awesome time. Jimmy, who'd been timing splits, hurried over to tell me my relay split had been 46.4 seconds. It would have been a new record for me, but didn't count as such since I was 3rd on the relay and had a "rolling" start, rather than a cold start from the blocks. In the end, our men's team won the tournament -- by a whopping eleven points! Our women's team did much better, running up nearly 100 more points than the number two team. Man, did we celebrate -- it was like we'd won an Olympic medal! Some of the guys even grabbed Coach Wilson and threw him into the pool! After the meet, my parents took Tyler, Jimmy and me out for dinner. My folks were, well, just smitten with Tyler! His natural charm and honesty could win anyone over, and my parents were no exception. Jimmy was funny and self-deprecating as usual, and dinner lasted until after ten p.m. My parents thought about getting a hotel room for the night, then decided to drive home, so left after dropping us guys back at the dorm.
It was now 10:30, but Jimmy was wired, and just wanted to hang around with us in our room. Tyler finally reminded him how tired I was after a two-day meet, so he finally left us alone. I'd showered at the pool after the meet, so Tyler headed down the hall for a shower, returning a few minutes later. He dropped his towel and was completely naked, then put on a fresh pair of briefs, hopped up on his bed, and sat there with a big smile on his face. "So," he asked, "got any energy left?"
I grinned, wondering what Ty might have in mind, remembering our encounter from two nights ago. I also remembered his hint that I would need to have some energy left for Saturday night, so I was doubly excited. We arranged our mattresses on the floor and prepared for bed -- both of us in our little bikini briefs, me thinking the briefs wouldn't be on for long. We snuggled under the blanket, my head resting on his massive shoulder. "Welllllll," Tyler drawled slowly, "I have to admit the sight of you in your little racing Speedo all weekend has gotten me a bit worked up, kept the ol' testosterone really pumping." I smiled giddily, and started to respond, but as I opened my mouth, nothing but a huge, loud yawn came out! I tried to hide it -- to turn my head away, but Tyler saw it, and his mouth dropped open. "What's this? Am I boring you?" he asked, with mock insult in his voice. "No, no, Ty," I said, " I just wanted to say th..." I could not stifle another, even bigger yawn that swept up and out of me like a wave hitting the shore.
"Dude," Tyler exclaimed, "you ARE exhausted! I should have known -- you swam your ass off this weekend and you are totally wiped out! How could I have been so dumb -- thinking you might have energy left when I saw you leave everything you have in the pool! Man, you were so awesome in your races -- listen, here's what we are going to do. Roll over on your stomach and I will give you a back massage to help you get to sleep. Then, tomorrow morning, once you've rested, then we will see what's what. Now, roll over." I started to protest, but a back massage did sound so wonderful, so relaxing. I rolled over and soon felt his strong, solid hands kneading my shoulders, rubbing along my lats, back up to my shoulders. It felt so warm, so gentle, so, so perfect, I would just close my eyes for a moment and then...
When I awoke, it was nearly ten a.m. Had I been asleep for almost eleven hours? And where was Tyler? I was alone on our bed, the blanket tucked closely around me. I sat up, needing to hit the john, but also wanting to stay wrapped in the blanket. The call of nature finally won out, and I threw on some sweats and went down the hall. When I returned, Tyler was back -- with a load of pancakes, bacon, sausage, and carton of juice he'd picked up at a local breakfast place! We were both famished, so covered the pancakes with syrup from those funny little containers they had, and dug in with gusto! I was on about my fourth or fifth bite before it suddenly hit me -- what the hell was Tyler doing, eating this cholesterol-laden, fat-soaked food instead of his healthy oatmeal, granola, sticks-and-twigs food? "Tyler," I blurted out, "you can't eat this stuff! What are you doing?" He grinned sheepishly and said, "I just wanted to have a final meal -- a real meal -- before I start my heavy training. It's only a month `til the Junior National Bodybuilding Championships, so as of today, I'm back into heavy, ball-busting training! But, but, well, I just wanted to indulge myself a little first!" I laughed aloud as we returned to stuffing our faces.
After we'd eaten, we stretched out on the bed, once again stripped to just our bikini briefs. I felt so contented, but Tyler was restless, playfully grabbing me here and there, pretending to want to wrestle. "So," I said, "you sort of liked checking me out at the pool this weekend -- you liked my racing suit?" "Um, yeah," he replied, "I thought you looked freakin' hot in that suit! I mean, think about it, Eric. Here you are, almost completely naked in front of everyone, yet it's all totally acceptable! You can strut around in that teeny, tiny little suit. lookin' hot as hell, and it's all OK, it's like your uniform, so who can say a word of protest?" "Dude, it's no different from you in that tiny posing strap -- that's legit, too, and it covers a lot less than my Speedo!" I answered. "Damn," Tyler muttered, "maybe we're just a couple of exhibitionists!" At this, we both laughed aloud, and began to wrestle again, squirming against each other, touching each other, the sexual tension rising steadily between us.
Tyler was obviously much stronger than I, but I had one secret weapon for which the muscled stud had virtually no defense -- my tickling fingers! I began to lightly stroke and tickle his rippled abs -- God, his abs were so amazing -- so cut and defined. Yet so ticklish! I quickly had him helpless, nearly crying with laughter as my fingertips danced across his abs, up across his broad, powerful chest, flicking his sensitive nips, then along his tender flanks. I had maneuvered myself to a kneeling position next to his outstretched form, where his torso was at the mercy of my twitching digits. I was delighted to see that our fun and games had awakened his `sleeping giant' -- his long, thick cock was jutting obscenely, tenting and stretching the thin fabric of his underwear to the point of ripping a hole right through it. Quickly I snaked my hand down, down under the waistband, and gently grabbed his jiggling balls in my hand, squeezing and massaging them much as he'd massaged my shoulders the night before. His laughter died down as my fingers now brought him new sensations, feelings of lust and need beginning to overtake him. I removed my hand from his gonads and withdrew it from his briefs. "Tyler," I said, "lift your butt a little." He did so, and I placed my hands on each side of the thin waistband and carefully slid his little bikini down his thighs, then over one calf and foot, then the other. I playfully tossed them at his face -- and he caught them in his mouth, grinning wickedly and raising his eyebrows seductively. Oh, this was going to be a morning to remember!
Now naked, Tyler remained stretched out on the mattress, looking like a giant statue of David posed on its back. His chest was heaving, muscles bulging, eyes shining, looking so sexy it made my own chest ache just to look at him. He had pulled his feet up toward his ass, so his thighs and calves looked like towering masses of hard muscle framing his groin between them. I crawled down toward his legs, and pushed myself between the powerful limbs. Below me, his cock arched up toward his flat stomach and cute belly button, the heavy, slightly hairy testicles hanging in their sack beneath. I glanced at his handsome face -- he was watching me expectantly, wondering what I would do next. I began to lower my face toward his crotch, my breath stirring the short, trimmed remnants of his small pubic thatch. Turning my head slightly, my gaze fell upon his naked thighs -- and I suddenly realized how absolutely huge and powerful they were. As if carved from granite, his thighs were stunningly muscular -- I could see the hard, bulging quadriceps swelling the front, and could trace the cleft they made under his taut flesh. This guy had legs that were truly works of art -- huge, rock-solid slabs of muscularity the likes of which I'd never seen. Suddenly, crouching there between these mammoth limbs, I began to giggle -- then laugh out loud.
"What's so funny?" he asked, breathlessly. "Tyler," I said, "I just realized that if I don't, well, um, please you, you could just crush the very life out of me with your huge thighs!" "Oh yeah? Like this?" he responded, and proceeded to pull his legs together, squeezing me in a vise-like grip from which I knew there would be no chance of escape until he released me. He finally relaxed his legs, grinning impishly, and allowed me to continue my pleasuring of him. I again lowered my face toward his groin and his hard, swollen sex organ. I could smell the musky, heady scent of his maleness, and see the veins pulsing along his trembling shaft. I slowly opened my mouth, then placed my tongue at the very base of the exposed underside of his shaft. I'd never given oral sex before, but remembered how Tyler had `serviced' me in this most intimate way, and knew I wanted to finally return the favor. I gently ran my tongue upward, right along the seminal duct, all the way to the flared, spongy, purplish mushroom head of his large cock. It tasted salty-sweet, not unpleasant at all, and I soon became bolder, licking the shaft again and again, along the underside and the sides. Then, I tenderly nudged one of his sperm-heavy testicles into my mouth, savoring it like a new piece of candy. I allowed it to squirm and jiggle on my tongue, then softly bit and nipped at it, tugging at the few scrotal hairs with my teeth, then swishing it around and onto my tongue. Then I did the same to the other nut -- not wanting one to feel favored over the other. I laved those gonads with my spit, toying with them with my tongue, and my teeth. I tried to fit both into my mouth at the same time, but couldn't quite make it work -- maybe a different position would work, or maybe a smaller nutsac! Either way, I finally returned his churning balls to their rightful place -- hanging dutifully below his shaft -- and returned my attention to his beautiful penis.
I ran my tongue once again along his quivering sex spear -- then nipped gently at the big head. Now, I noticed a new flavor -- and drawing back, I watched as his piss slit gaped open to release a large drop of his love honey -- a drop I lapped up quicker than a thirsty puppy at a water bowl! The flavor was tangy, but again, not unpleasant. I now reached my right hand up to his shaft, and firmly grabbed the base, wrapping my fingers around his manly tool. Gently, I pulled and tugged the long, hard tube of manflesh up and away from where it throbbed against his lower abdomen, and then, quick as a flash, I simply enveloped him with my lips, taking several inches of him deep within my mouth. I worked that big ol' cock over the best I could, though my inexperience became obvious to poor Tyler, who endured a few accidental bites and scrapings from my teeth. As I sucked and savored his big hard prong, nursing on that cock like a suckling at its mama's teat, I could hardly control my own growing desires. It overwhelmed me to think I was finally giving oral sex to this young stud whom I'd come to love and cherish. I wanted to please him -- to sate him -- in every way possible. Despite my fumbling attempts at pleasing him, Tyler seemed to enjoy what I was doing. He was lying on the floor, his head gently rolling from side to side, eyes closed, softly grunting and moaning with pent-up desire. "Oh...oh...don't stop...oh...please...oh Eric...that feels so...good..." I could suddenly feel his hard rod become even firmer, more solid, in my mouth. I feverishly licked and sucked the length of his dick, kissing it and coating it with my spit, then plunging my mouth on it yet again. His thighs were trembling, and his breath came in sharp bursts, and then he suddenly cried out, "Eric, watch out...I'm about to...I'm going to...".
My hand was now fondling his scrotum, squeezing and caressing it with abandon, feeling his big balls bounce and jump within. But then, quick as a flash, I felt his testicles suddenly begin to rise -- his body pulling them securely to the base of his cock as his rocket prepared for blast-off. And with a giant shudder of his mega-muscled body, Tyler's overworked sex organ did just what it was designed to do -- shot wave after ropy wave of his teenboy semen anywhere and everywhere in sight. His cum rocketed out of his shaft, and I held his gooey stick in my hand, aiming the shots right onto my own face. His seed gushed onto my forehead, my cheeks, my eyelids, my chin, my hair. I opened my mouth and caught the last couple of shots on my tongue, and I swirled the salty white spunk around my mouth as I savored his flavor.
I now became aware of my own needs -- my dick was achingly hard, painfully trapped in my own small briefs, and leaking a torrent of pre-cum from the tip. Suddenly, I crawled up until I was straddling him, then whipped the front of my briefs down, catching the waistband under my own nutsac. My cock was solid as a steel rod, and with a sudden surge of lust, I grabbed it in my hand and began furiously pumping and squeezing it like a sex-crazed maniac. Faster and faster I roughly fisted myself, sliding my hand and fingers up and down, up and down the veiny tube. Within moments, I was shooting my own load of goo, aiming it at the handsome, grinning face on the floor beneath me. Tyler twisted and turned his head, arched his neck -- anything he could do to catch the falling ribbons of sperm as they fell toward his face. Most of it landed in his hair or on his neck, but he caught enough in his gaping mouth to smile lewdly and say, "Yum, tasty!" Oh, yeah?" I said. "Well, try some fresh from the source!' And with that, I quickly pushed my cocktip right to his lips -- he opened wide, and I shoved my meat right into his mouth. I was careful not to force so much that I might choke him, but nonetheless, he swallowed a good six inches, and held it while several spurts of fresh cum shot out of my dick and into his hungry throat!
Finally, I withdrew from him and collapsed on the mattress by his side. He pulled me close to him and whispered, "I see my Superswimmer DID save a little energy for me after all!" I laughed aloud and nestled my head onto his big chest, snuggling as close to him as was humanly possible, basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking.
It was now early November, and things had pretty much returned to "normal" in our little dorm. Tyler was working harder than ever -- pumping and sweating and lifting and toning and sculpting his already incredible body into an amazing example of raw manhood. When I would return from afternoon practice, our room smelled wonderful -- it reeked of Tyler's manly scent -- the sweat dripping from his pecs, trickling down his abs, soaking the little white bikini he wore and plastering it to his flesh. Usually Jimmy would arrive about the same time, and he and one or two of Ty's "fans" would be `holding court', helping spot, filling Ty's water bottle, wiping him down with a towel -- anything that gave them a reason to simply be there -- to watch him, ogle him, serve him, touch him. I would stretch out on my bed, sometimes pretending to read, but usually just to watch him as he strained and grimaced, swelling his arms, chest, back, and legs to incredible proportions. Every muscle, every vein, seemed to leap from under his skin, forcing his very flesh outward -- making him bigger, stronger, more massive than before. One day, my teammate Timmy stopped by unexpectedly. When he saw Tyler -- on his exercise bench doing rep after rep after rep of butterflies, his naked arms and shoulders swollen with unbelievable muscle, he could only stare open-mouthed, filled with awe. "Oh my God," he whispered as he sat on the edge of my bed next to me.
Jimmy arrived a couple minutes later, and was stunned to see Timmy in my room. Jimmy became flustered as a schoolgirl, excited to see Timmy, yet shy and unsure of himself around the big athlete. I had nearly forgotten about Jimmy's attraction to the lean Aussie lifesaver, and it amused me to see him so agitated in the presence of his `crush'. Tyler also was amused -- he gave me a big wink and a nod as he prepared to start another set. Timmy seemed dumbfounded at the sight of Tyler's near-naked body, all bulging muscles and sweaty, glistening skin. He peppered the bodybuilder with questions about reps, sets, weight amounts, etc., sometimes commenting or comparing these numbers to the smaller amounts we swimmers did as dryland exercises. Timmy left after perhaps fifteen minutes, just as Tyler was finishing his routine. With just the three of us left in the room, Ty and I jumped on the smaller team manager, demanding to know if he had said anything to Timmy about his feelings for the lanky college star. Jimmy looked down at the floor and shook his head sadly. "No," he said, "I...I...just...couldn't say...well...I ...didn't know...what to say or...or how to say it. I mean, come on guys -- what can I say? Do I just walk up to him on the pool deck and say `Hey Timmy, would you like to go on a date with me?'" Jimmy looked so forlorn it nearly broke my heart, and Tyler was touched as well. He put his huge arm around Jimmy's thin shoulders and said, "Don't give up, Jimmy. Just grab the bull by the horns and go for it!" Jimmy smiled weakly at the big guy and said, "I'm not brave enough -- I'm just a scared little kid inside. If I made him angry with me, or drove him away, it would just kill me. I guess I will have to settle for the little things I can do to make him smile at me or pat me on the back -- you know, get a fresh towel for him, mix his favorite flavor of Gatorade in the team cooler whenever I'm assigned that job, compliment him on his times in practice sets -- anything just to get him to smile at me or say something kind." And with that, Jimmy picked up his jacket and books and headed down the hall toward his own room.
"I wish we could do something to help Jimmy", Tyler said as we readied for bed. I was hesitant to say anything, knowing how often such interference tended to backfire in the worst possible way. I mentioned my fear to Tyler, and he finally agreed . "Still," he said as we drifted off to sleep, "if there was just some way..."
Classes, homework, practice, sleep, practice, classes -- my life seemed to have four components -- class, practice, homework and sleep. Tyler's wasn't much different -- his workouts were as taxing, as draining on his body as my swim practices were on me. Classes, lift and pump, sleep -- thus went Tyler's life as November passed. The second weekend in November our team had an "away" meet at another school a few hours away. Tyler had no way to get there, but wanted to wish me well -- the night before we left campus, he presented me with a tee-shirt that said "Superswimmer" across the chest! I loved the shirt and promised to wear it at the meet.
Boarding the bus for our team trip the following day, I was surprised to see Jimmy already in a seat. "Hey, Jimmy," I said, "are you going to the meet with us?" "Yep," he answered, "Coach Wilson said he would need me to help take care of the team, organize stuff, and help with some other things." I was glad he was coming, and sat with him for the three-hour ride. It was a Friday evening meet -- scheduled to begin at seven and end around ten. Because it would be so late ending, we were staying at a hotel near the other campus and returning the next day. Our opponents were a good team, but no match for us, and we handily defeated them. We even swam the final events as exhibitions, just so the other team could pull in a few points and not be so badly beaten. We had a team dinner at a late-night diner, then headed to our hotel.
The place had typical rooms -- two queen-sized beds per room, four guys per room. The girls were similarly housed on the third floor, we guys on the fourth. Now came an interesting dilemma -- how do four college men share just two beds? As coach read off our room assignments, there was the usual complaints -- "I don't want to share a room with him -- he snores!" "Well, you fart!" "Oh yeah, well you'll have your hands all over me as soon as I'm asleep!" -- the usual athletic, testosterone-driven bragging, always with an undercurrent of sexual innuendo and sometimes homophobia. Most such joshing was good-natured, however, and things quickly settled down. I was assigned to room with Daniel and Timmy and ...Jimmy! The four of us headed to room 417, then immediately were confronted with the problem of who slept with whom. I suddenly saw an opportunity to "initiate" something between Timmy and Jimmy, so I suggested that Daniel and I would share a bed since we were relay teammates, and that Timmy should share a bed with Jimmy. Jimmy gave me a cold stare, then said maybe he and I should share since we were already dormmates. But I pointed out Timmy was the biggest guy in the room, and Jimmy the smallest, so it only made sense they would share. This argument seemed to settle things, although I could see the worry in Jimmy's eyes.
It was already late, so Daniel stripped to his boxer-briefs, washed up in the bathroom, and hopped into bed. I couldn't help but notice the large package Daniel sported in those boxer briefs, but knew better than to look too long - I didn't want my teammate to realize there might be something a little `different' about me. Stripping to my Fruit of the Loom briefs, I quickly followed him into bed. Jimmy reluctantly stripped to his plaid boxers and jumped under the covers while Timmy finished watching the news on TV. When Timmy came out of the bathroom, I saw Jimmy's eyes grow wide -- as skimpy as Timmy's Aussiebum and Australian Speedos were, his bikini briefs were infinitely briefer -- barely, and I mean barely covering his privates. The little bikinis he wore had a blue and white checked pattern -- the little squares widely distended and misshapen where they obscenely stretched to cover the bulging lump of his male anatomy. The weight of his large, heavy cock pulled the front down low, exposing a small tangle of his dark, curly pubes above the waistband. Jimmy's eyes seemed to jump from the tight bikini to me, then back again, a look of panic on my friend's face. What was Jimmy worried about? Was he afraid he might be so tempted as to attack Timmy in his sleep, fondling and stroking that bulge until the Aussie swimmer soaked the checkered fabric with his own ejaculate? Was he afraid he'd go further -- stripping the small things from Timmy's body and ravishing him where he lay? I couldn't imagine what Jimmy was afraid of, and was curious to see what might happen.
After lights out, we lay there talking quietly about the meet, our teammates, school, etc. Only Jimmy remained totally silent, apparently trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. It was Daniel who surprised me by saying, "Timmy, when I went with Melissa to the movies last weekend, I thought I saw you coming out of the matinee show by yourself. Did you go to the movies alone last Sunday?" "Oh, yeah, I guess I did, mate -- I wanted to see that new horror flick that was playing." "Do you have a girlfriend or someone to go with you?" Daniel persisted. The Aussie replied, "Well, um, no, not here, anyway." "Oh, but back in Sydney, maybe?" Daniel asked. Timmy said nothing for awhile, finally saying softly, "Yes, back in Sydney."
His elusiveness -- his hesitation to answer -- struck me as a little odd, and I wondered if there was more to the story. "What's her name?" -- this from good old not-ready-for-sleep Daniel again. "Laurie," said Timmy. "Now, can we go to sleep?" But Daniel was inquisitive, always talking or questioning or challenging. "Well, Laurie is on the other side of the world, so nobody would know if you had a girl here on campus -- we won't tell!" Daniel said, snickering. "Well, I would know, and it wouldn't be right," said Timmy firmly. Daniel continued, saying, "Dude, you don't have to get serious with any of the chicks here -- just find one to mess around with, have some fun with!" Timmy sighed forlornly, then said, "You don't understand, Daniel -- I love Laurie. We...we...well, we have a baby."
This announcement sent the other three of us springing up in our beds, fumbling for light switches, stammering and stuttering. "What did you say -- a baby?" I blurted out. Timmy now sat up, while the rest of us stared at him open-mouthed. Timmy related the story to us -- about how he'd met Laurie when they were both fourteen and worked as `Nippers' together -- these were youth lifesavers who were in training to become regular beach guards. They did everything together -- trained, went to parties -- everything. Eventually, things went further, and they were soon sharing a bed whenever they could find time to be alone. Timmy's parents disapproved of their relationship -- her family was poor and troubled -- in fact, Laurie was in the Nipper project as part of a juvenile services program to steer problem kids away from bad influences and back toward making a meaningful contribution to society. Just before leaving Australia to accept his scholarship at State U., Laurie had told him she was pregnant with his child. He'd wanted to stay there with her -- try to support her and the baby some way, but his parents had forbidden it. They'd promised to provide Laurie with money and other assistance -- so long as Timmy got as far away from her as possible and completed his education in the U.S. He'd only seen his little daughter, Sarah -- now two years old -- one time, for barely half an hour, on a short trip back home after last spring's semester.
"I get so lonely sometimes," Timmy concluded, "I can hardly stand it." He held up his right hand, smirked, and shaking his head, said, "Sometimes I'm afraid what they say is true -- I'll start growing hair all over the palm of my hand. This guy is my only friend -- and only lover!" We all laughed at his attempt at humor, but could also feel the pain he felt. "Timmy," I asked, "do you have a picture of them?" He jumped excitedly from the bed and grabbed his wallet off the hotel's dresser, and pulled out a worn photo of a pretty, smiling brunette holding a beautiful, healthy baby girl on her lap. He proudly showed us his little family, and we could see the joy, the sparkle, returning to his eyes. We all commented on how pretty they both were, and how lucky he was to have them in his life. He smiled at us warmly, and thanked us sincerely. Then he said, "You guys are the only ones I've told -- please don't spread it around. I'd rather keep my personal life to myself. I don't even know why I told you -- I guess just because Daniel asked. I guess I'm a little ashamed -- you know, getting a girl pregnant and leaving her behind. But as soon as I've got my degree, I'm going back and marrying Laurie, despite what my parents might say!" We promised not to divulge his secret, then returned to bed. Just as we were settling down, Jimmy said to Timmy, "Timmy, your hand is not your only friend -- the three of us are your friends also. Anything we can do to help, just let us know." Daniel and I both echoed his remarks. "Thanks mates, I appreciate that," said Timmy. "I guess I do have friends, but I guess my hand is still my only lover!" I half expected Jimmy to make some wry, off-the-cuff remark about offering to help in that department also, but instead, he wittily said, "For that, dude, you're on your own!" We all cracked up laughing, and I finally drifted off to sleep, wondering what it must be like for Timmy to be here while the girl he loved, and his baby, were so far, far away.
We returned to campus late the next day. I was looking forward to spending Saturday night with Tyler, but it turned out he had been invited to an off-campus party, and didn't return to our room until after I'd fallen asleep. On Sunday morning, he told me he had wanted to waken me, but I was so sound asleep, he didn't have the heart. We went to breakfast together, then did a couple hours of studying. Tyler then set up his weight bench and once again started on a work-out routine that would have probably killed me. He did a lot of arm extensions with his dumbbells, which worked his triceps into rock-hard, rounded ridges of solid muscle protruding from his upper arms. He also did some leg lifts, pumping his thighs until his quadriceps burned with the torment he put them through. On Sundays, he did a lighter than usual program, but still one that I could only dream of surviving!
By late afternoon, he was done -- and asked about going to the pool for some more butterfly practice. I was delighted to get away from the books, and even happier to see him in that little red Speedo again, so off we went. Only a few swimmers were there, so we had a lane to ourselves. The guard who always seemed to look so longingly at Tyler was there, writing a report at a table. But when he looked up and saw Tyler, he stared at the buff bodybuilder, watching him as he walked along the deck. We dove into the empty lane and did some warm-up laps, then got to work. Tyler was getting pretty good at fly -- he wouldn't win an Olympic medal, but his stroke was looking real solid, and he was thrilled by his improvement. His armstroke was getting quick and precise, his kick was strong and well-timed, and his undulation was also very good. At the end of our practice, he challenged me to a race ---fifty yards of fly! I was only too happy to accommodate him, so I moved to an empty lane next door and we started on his mark. "Swimmers, take your mark!" his voice boomed. "Go!"
Well, it wasn't that much of a race -- I went twenty-five yards down and twenty-five back in about twenty-six seconds. Tyler was a good bit behind at about thirty-four seconds, which was excellent for a novice. I slapped him on the back, telling him how well he'd done, and he smiled from ear to ear. He was still happy when we left the pool, chattering away, punching me playfully on the arm, etc. I couldn't stop smiling myself -- God, how I loved being with him, hanging with him! He was so full of life, fun, energy -- it was electric just being close to him.
Back at the dorm, Tyler hung his little suit on the doorknob to dry while we headed over to the dining hall for dinner. When we returned, we hit the books a little more. Suddenly, Tyler pounded his hand into his palm and said, "I forgot -- I need to do laundry. I don't have anything clean to wear to class tomorrow." I realized that I, too, was out of clean clothes, so we decided to do the laundry together. Ty opened his drawers, then his side of the closet -- everything was empty, and all his clothes were stuffed into a big basket on the closet floor. "Even what I'm wearing now needs to be washed," he said. "I should just sneak to the laundry room downstairs naked, dump this stuff in, and sneak back!" But I had a better idea. "Why don't you just wear your Speedo?"
Tyler looked at me with an amused expression on his face. "You're crazy, Eric -- it's hard enough to wear that little thing at the pool. I couldn't wear it to the laundry room. What if someone sees me?" "Well, what if they do see you?" I answered. "Just tell them you ran out of clean clothes, and your swimsuit was all you had left to wear." Tyler shook his head, then said, "I would say if you wore yours, I'd wear mine, but your suits are all over at the pool! Oh well, too bad." I held up my hand, smiling, and said, "It just so happens I have a new practice suit here in my drawer -- never been worn yet. I'll wear this to do my laundry. Now, your suit is dry by now -- put it on and let's go!"
Tyler was caught, and finally gave in. We put on the small suits, gathered our dirty clothes in bundles, and headed toward the basement laundry. Tyler insisted we use the back stairs -- which nobody in the dorm used -- to get to the laundry. We made it undetected, and figured we could save money by combining our whites in one load, our dark colors in another. Tyler picked up a pair of his little bikinis from his pile and said, "Once we mix them, how will we be able to tell my bikini briefs from yours?" "Well, we wear the same size, Ty, so does it really matter? We can just wear each other's if need be." We proceeded to load two machines, and were just ready to head back toward the stairway when we heard three female voices drawing nearer to the laundry room. Within moments, three girls -- Jessica, now off her crutches, and two friends -- walked into the laundry with baskets under their arms. They stopped short when they saw us, then started grinning at us.
"What are you guys doing -- hiding in the laundry room nearly naked," one of them said. "Um, no, um, we ran out of clean clothes and just put our swimsuits on to run down here and dump everything into the washing machines," Tyler responded. Jessica was smiling at Tyler, and said, "Wow Tyler, now I can see why it was so easy for you to carry me up the steps when I had my crutches -- your arms are huge!" Tyler's cheeks began to turn pink as he smiled bashfully at the girl. But pink quickly turned to red as one of her friends added, "I've never seen such a body! He's huge all over," while she pointedly stared at Tyler's barely clothed groin region. The other girl boldly walked right up to Tyler and said, "Make a muscle. I want to feel it." Tyler reluctantly struck a double biceps pose, and the girl placed her hands on those eye-popping mounds of pure power, feeling and squeezing them as she cooed to her friends, "Come and feel this guy -- he is SO hard!" I couldn't help but wonder of there was a double-entendre there, what with all the talk of this "huge" guy who was so "hard." Tyler grew quite uncomfortable as the other girl felt his other arm, while Jessica said, "Leave him alone -- you're embarrassing him!"
The first girl, whose name was Dana, suddenly looked at me and said, "You too. Come over here and pose for us." I was about to protest when she added, "If you don't, we'll tell everyone about finding you two down here in your little Speedos!" "We are just doing some laundry," I answered, "and we need to get back to our room to study." The second unknown girl came over to me and started feeling my upper arms, saying "Not as big as Red Speedos, but plenty big and strong enough." By this time, Jessica was pleading with her friends to stop tormenting us, but to no avail. Dana had turned her attention back to Tyler and was now blatantly rubbing his hard pecs, even brushing his perky nipples with her fingers. I saw Tyler's eyes begin to flutter, and I knew what was coming next. Glancing down, I saw Tyler's cock begin to lengthen and harden in the small suit -- he was becoming aroused by the attention these silly girls were lavishing on him. Within moments, he was long and hard, a fact the small red suit only highlighted rather than hid. He tried to squirm away, but it was obvious to Dana that the young bodybuilder was stimulated by her touches -- she kept feeling his arms, shoulders, and chest, while stealing obvious hungry glances at Ty's swollen manhood. The touch of the second girl on my arms had not stirred my groin to attention, but the sight of Tyler so aroused seemed to generate a `sympathy' erection in me, and I soon found myself in similar dire circumstances -- barely covered, with a raging hard-on that was plain to see. Jessica realized how out-of-control her friends had become, and how embarrassed Tyler and I were. She grabbed Dana and the other girl each by the arm and marched them to the unused machines in the corner of the room. "We'll see you guys later," she called back over her shoulder, as Dana added loud enough for us to hear, "I'd love to see muscleboy later -- in my room!"
Tyler and I hurried back up the stairs to our room, and we both burst out laughing as we closed the door behind us. "Man, I TOLD you why it's not a good idea to run around in Speedos," Tyler said. "I almost shot a wad while that girl was feeling my body." I was a bit surprised by his statement, and said, "Those girls, they really got you excited, didn't they Tyler?" "Well, yeah, I guess so," he said. "That chick Dana was pushing all my buttons!" His candor in discussing how those girls had excited him, aroused him even, came as something of a surprise to me. It also hurt me a little, to suddenly realize that perhaps Tyler was interested in exploring other sides of the sexual equation. Until now, I had thought, or at least hoped, that I was all Tyler required to fulfill his needs and desires.
We were able to return unnoticed to the laundry to put our things in the driers, and to later retrieve them and get back to our room. We folded and hung our clothes as needed, and finished studying. I had early practice, so we went to bed by ten o'clock. As we lay quietly in our separate beds, I was surprised when Tyler asked me what I thought of Jessica. I said she seemed real nice, very sweet. "Yeah, I think so, too," he said, then rolled onto his side and was soon fast asleep. It took much longer for me to drift off, for I kept thinking about those girls and Tyler's reaction to them. What did it mean?
This week was much like the previous ones -- practice and classes for me, classes and work-outs for Tyler. Sometimes he used the special equipment at the school gym, but most times he could be found in our dorm, sweating and straining on his own bench, weights piled around him, while his incredible body flexed, pumped, and grew in mass. Thursday evening, he shocked me by saying that Jessica had invited him to dinner. "She invited you?" I asked. "Yeah, out of the blue today, she came up to me in front of the building and said she wanted to thank me for helping her when she was on crutches. She asked me to go to dinner with her tomorrow night." "And you accepted?" I asked. "Sure -- I mean, I , well...uh...I think I like her. She's really cute -- and like you said, she's very sweet and nice. I think we can have a fun time."
It was now nearly five a.m., and I had slept fitfully all night, tossing and turning, my mind tormented by thoughts of Tyler and Jessica -- Jessica and Tyler. I found myself sick with worry -- fear that Tyler was suddenly slipping away from me. What did he see in Jessica? What could she give him that I couldn't? Was he really interested in her? I remembered how Dana's touch in the laundry room had so quickly brought Tyler to a state of sexual arousal -- how the young woman had so easily "pushed his buttons" as he had put it. I was suddenly angry -- at them and him -- I felt cheated, betrayed. I knew I couldn't allow Jessica to take him from me. Looking over at him, sleeping so peacefully, drove me insane with sudden desire. I quietly arose from my bed and crept over next to his. I gently pulled the sheet down, exposing his beautiful, manly body to the soft light that entered our room from the streetlights outside. As I expected, his dick was hard, outlined where it pressed against the soft white cotton of his tiny briefs.
Almost without thinking about it, I began to softly stroke my fingers up and down his turgid shaft, scraping and tickling his testicular sac through the fabric encasing it, then again stroking the tube of manmeat that was so hard, so firm. I thought of stripping the briefs off him, but feared it would awaken him, so decided against it. I toyed with his maleness -- brushing softly, slowly -- watching in the dim light as his shaft lengthened, straining to be released from its cotton prison. Up and down my fingers danced along his seminal duct, until a drop appeared where his piss lips snuggled against the warm material of his briefs. Stroking still more, harder now, I began to milk the pre-cum from his penis, stroking drop after gooey drop up and out of that sex shaft. Small moans of pleasure began to escape from his lips, but still he slept. I knew what I had to do, and I was determined to complete my task. Becoming bolder, I began to firmly, forcefully jerk Tyler off -- rubbing and teasing the pre-orgasmic fluids from his male organ, soaking his briefs in the love nectar his body was working overtime to produce. I was going to take his seed -- by force if necessary -- and by doing so, control his sexual urgings, make them bow to my own longings and desires. I now squeezed his nutsac, using my fingers to pull it down and keep his testicles from rising, while with my other hand I furiously milked and pumped his long dick, forcing his cock to emit more and more sticky precum, yet blocking his full ejaculation.
I glanced at his face -- and found him staring wide-eyed at me, a look of puzzlement creasing his brow. "What are you doing, Eric?" he whispered. My stroking fingers slowed, then came to a stop, resting on the underside of his quivering, pulsating shaft. I suddenly felt so foolish, so disgusted with myself. And then the truth poured out of me before I could stop it. "I don't want you to have sex with Jessica. I don't want her to use her body to seduce you, to tease you into bedding her and making love to her. I...I thought if I could, well, control your sexual desire, drain your body of its basic needs and longings, lessen your hormone-driven hungering to, well, to be with her, sleep with her, then I wouldn't have to worry about losing you to her."
Tyler chuckled softly, then said, "So you thought by jacking me off, I would not be as turned on by her? By shooting my wad now, I would not feel as attracted to her, or feel the need to score with her tonight? Eric, I'm a big boy -- don't you think my body can produce more jizz by tonight's date with her?" I suddenly realized how stupid the whole thing was, and I felt like a damn fool. I peered up at him through lowered eyes and said, "You mean I should have waited until five minutes before you left for your date, then tried to hold you down and jack you off? So you would have been `freshly milked', so to speak?" Tyler's big body shook with laughter. "Yeah, maybe that would have worked -- maybe," he said between chuckles. "You're one crazy dude, Eric," he said, then warmly reached up and tousled my hair with his hand.
Still, I felt awful, and I lowered my head in shame, and apologized to him, saying, "I'm sorry Tyler. I don't know what I was thinking. I don't know what came over me. I just, well, I love you. I don't want her -- or anyone else -- to come between us." Tyler smiled knowingly at me, seeming to understand my motivation. "Well," he continued, "all you've done now is given me a serious case of `blue balls'. Will you please finish me off? If I don't shoot soon, I may explode down there!" He grabbed my hand and began manipulating it up and down his dick. He then hooked his fingers under the waistband and slipped the little bikini down his thighs, then placed my hand right on his erection, using his hand to move mine up and down his throbbing meat. Within moments, he began to spurt, arcs of white-hot cum spitting from his yearning dick, shooting across his belly and rippled abs. When the eruption had trickled to a slow pulse of semen dribbling from his slit, he breathed deeply and sank back onto the bed. I grabbed some tissues and wiped the mess from his body, feeling somehow cowardly -- even dirty -- for doing what I'd done.
I got up and went to sit back on my own bed, shame flooding through me as the morning sunlight began to flood the room. Tyler got up and pulled the sopping briefs back up his thighs, tucking his maleness back into the wet material. The fabric was soaked, and I could see the pink flesh through the transparent covering that tried but failed to conceal it. I closed my eyes and shook my head, wishing the whole scene was a nightmare from which I could just wake up. I felt my bed sink as Tyler sat beside me, and was surprised when he placed his large right arm around my shoulders. I opened my eyes as he leaned over to me and kissed me on my left cheek. "Eric," he said, "what you and I have, what we share, is very special. You don't have to worry about losing me to someone else. My feelings for you have not changed, they've only grown stronger. But, well...I'm still new to this whole thing called `sex.' I'm not sure where the road I'm on will take me. It seems you've chosen the path you want to follow. Maybe, just maybe, I will want to explore other paths -- experiment with a girl or two -- just to find out what that's all about. Maybe I won't -- I just don't know yet. I'm still curious, and I'm still learning about all this. Right now, I know I like what we do together. Perhaps, someday, I'll find that a girl can do things I like, too. I just don't know about that. But what I do know is that I love you, too, just as you love me. I love being with you, holding you, touching you, experiencing new feelings and sensations with you -- and that has not and will not change. Eric, you mean more to me than you can possibly imagine. You may -- someday -- have to share a little of me, but you will never lose me. That much I promise you from the bottom of my heart."
Though a trickle of dampness was running down my cheeks, I looked up at him and smiled. I could share him -- a little -- if I had to. He was a big guy -- there was enough of him to go around. But I would never lose him. He had promised me that. And I knew Tyler was a man of his word. I smiled at him, and was deeply touched when he leaned close to me and placed his lips on mine. Tenderly, we kissed, and the feelings of passion I had for him surged once again within my heart. He broke off our kiss, then wrapped his huge arms around my smaller body and pulled me close to him, hugging me and rocking me softly. And all seemed right with the world again.