Date: Sat, 10 Mar 2012 23:37:25 -0500
From: Kevin Metson <trojanboy2012@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Runners Pt 1

This story contains mm situations involving hs boys. If this offends you,
please leave now.  This story is a work of fiction and is copyrighted by
the author.

Harry Potter killed my dad. And my life has never been the same since.

No, of course I don't think that some fictional character actually waved
his wand at my dad and he fell over dead. But, Harry Potter is still the
culprit.

My dad died the summer before I entered fifth grade the night before I
turned 11. He was out buying my present, when I drunk driver swerved across
the median and plowed into him.  The drunk walked away without a scratch,
my dad was killed instantly.

I blamed myself. You see the whole week before my birthday, I badgered my
dad about this new book that had come out about a boy wizard.  My friend
Kevin had read the book and said it was the best book he had ever read,
even better than the Dragonlance books we both discovered and devoured the
previous spring.  Even though, he had already bought me a present (a new
Lego set!), my dad had gone out after I was in bed to get me this new Harry
Potter book.

He never came home alive.

Before his death, I had been an easy going kid.  I was friendly, outgoing,
never made waves or complained.  After his death, I became moody and
started breaking out in anger over the smallest issue.

My mom understood, but also determined to nip my new attitude in the bud.
The first time I yelled at her, because our supper was slightly burned, she
looked at me and said, "Tommy, I know why you are angry. I miss dad too. I
also know it's hard to control those feelings, but you need to learn to do
that.  You are going to put on your tennis shoes and run around the
block. "

I stared at here in shock.  I had wanted to fight, but she was calm.  And
she wanted me to *run*!

"Go!" she shushed me.

More out of shock, than comprehension, I got up from the table, threw on my
shoes, rushed out the door (slamming it for good effect) and ran around the
block.

All it did was get me more angry.

When I came back in, I told her so.

"Run around again."  She had this no nonsense look that I knew meant I
daren't argue with.  So I ran around again.

We live in a rural town in Texas of about 15,000.  Our block is about 1/3
of a mile.  I was told to run around it 5 times that night.  For the first,
my anger flared.  For second and third, it simmered.  For the fourth, it
actually tempered.  By the time I finished the fifth lap, my anger was
gone.

From then on, whenever my mom saw we start to get moody or angry, she'd
point out the door and simply say, "Take a lap."  I'd run around 4-5 times,
until I felt calmer.

After a couple of weeks, I found I actually really liked running.  I'd go
for a run as soon as I woke up.  I started running around the neighborhood.
I found that on days I began with running, I could focus more in school, I
felt better - life was good.

By the time I turned 15 during the summer before i started 9th grade, I was
a running fiend.  Five days a week I'd run 5-6 miles a day.  On Saturday,
I'd run a long run of 10-12 miles.  Sunday was church and I took that day
off.

Between my mom only being 5' 3" and my dad reaching a height of 6'4", I had
no idea if I'd be tall of short.  When I was 15, it looked like I possessed
more of my mom's genes than my dad's, as I was only 5' 4". I felt fated to
be short, as in other areas, I was developing fine.  My pubes around my
nutsack was coming in nicely.  The sandy blonde color matched the hair on
my head.  And from what I observed in the gym showers, I was ahead of the
curve in terms of my Johnson.  Granted, I was the second oldest, in my
class, but still many of the other boys were still quite small and pretty
hairless.

My short stature certainly helped my running, though.  I was able to run a
little over a 6 minute pace for 5 miles.  Which meant that as soon as I
joined the cross -country team, I made varsity.

For those who never ran cross - country, the event works like this.  Each
team puts up a team of seven runners.  When you cross the finish line, your
team scores points equal to your place.  1st place is 1 point, 2nd place is
2 points, and so on.  The team with the lowest score wins.  On a typical
team, the varsity unit is simply decided by the seven fastest runners from
the previous race.

At my school, there were 16 cross-country runners.  The top seven were
varsity, the other nine were JV.  There were 6 seniors, 4 juniors, 4
sophomores, and 2 of us freshmen. The varsity team was five of the seniors,
a sophomore - and me.

All of this is to set the back ground for what happened on the weekend of
Oct 10-12, 1997.  To recap - My dad was killed in a car accident when I was
11 (4 years ago). I am a damn good runner who is now on the varsity cross
country team at my school.

That weekend, we had an invitational in a town about 3 hours away.  The
meet started at 3pm, so that schools from a large region could travel there
without missing the football games the night before.  Because of the
distance we had to stay over in a hotel.

The invitational consisted of 20 different teams. I can't even begin to
describe the rush of starting out with 140 runners blasting off from the
starting line at one time.  It's an adrenal boost that is out of this
world.  After our intense season, I was in peak form and virtually sprinted
the entire 5K (five kilometers - about 3.1 miles).  I had a personal best
of 17:55, breaking 18 minutes for the first time.  I finished second on my
team and 8th over all. Jake, the sophomore, finished fourth on the team and
56th overall.  We ended up winning the entire invitational.

Needless to say, we were all stoked.  Our coach took us out for pizza and
we headed to the hotel. I can't remember how all the guys were split up,
but Jake and I ended up in the smallest room, which only had one queen bed
in it.

It was about 7pm when we got to the hotel.  We spent the next two hours in
the pool, playing all types of water games.  The hotel was filled mostly
with cross country teams, so it was awesome.  Finally at 9, the coach told
us to head to the rooms, and that at 9:30 he was doing room checks, and we
better all be there.

Jake and I got back to our room, it was only a couple minutes later when
the coach knocked on the door. We had even had a chance to change out of
our swim suits.  Coach Jack stepped in and closed the door behind him.  He
had a large brown grocery bag with him.

"You boys did awesome today," he gushed. " I got a little reward, but only
if you promise not to set one foot out his door for the rest of the night."

"Sure," Jake and I both quipped.

Coach opened the grocery bag and pulled out a four pack of Mike's hard
lemonade.  "Enjoy!"  he said, and left.

We just stared at the bottles for a minute. Suddenly, like a pair of
idiots, we grinned from ear to ear and rushed over to the bottles.  We both
grabbed on and twisted the top off. "Cheers." I said, clinking Jake's
bottle and down it pretty quick.


Now, I have never had alcohol before.  The warmth that hit my belly was
glorious.  My head started to spin and my hands started to tingle.

"Woah!" I exclaimed.

"Fucking A." Jake returned, having also downed his bottle.

I sat down on the bed, because I was suddenly dizzy.  After a minute or so,
the spell passed.  Jake sat down next to me.  I realized, we were still
both in our swim suits, which was getting the bed a little wet.

"We should probably change," I said.  I guess with the slight buzz, Jake
took me literally.

"Sure," he replies, and whips his swimsuit down.  Now, I've seen plenty of
guys naked in the locker room, but something was suddenly different.  Jake
was sitting right next to me, our legs almost touching and with cock hang
out in the wind. I stared for a moment.  His dick was a little smaller than
mine, but he had a dark patch of pubes surround it.  Jake, I might add, was
slightly taller than me at 5' 8" and had more definition to him.  His legs
and chest had a light coat of hair, but not like too much.  His eyes were
brown, and he liked to sport a little bit of peach fuzz on his chin.

He saw my stare and giggled a little.  "You like?" he asked, and giggled
his dick.

The movement of his dick woke me from what I can only call a trance, and
laughing with a smile, I pushed him away and quipped, "How can I like what
I can't see?"

He tacked me back, still nude, and pinned me on the bed.

"Hey, we're getting the bed wet!" I called out.

He stopped for second, and then said, "Easy solution to that, and yanked MY
suit off.  We were now both naked and wrestling.

Now, I know what you might be thinking, but there was nothing sexual about
it.  At least, I wasn't thinking anything, other than having an impromptu
wrestling match.  It lasted about 5 minutes, he got me pinned on my back,
and for the first time I realized we were naked and our cocks were
touching. It was like he realized it at the same time and quickly got up.
Without saying another word, we both pulled on a pair of sleep shorts.

"Want to watch some TV?" He asked, as if nothing had happened, and I
replied "Sure."

We ended up watching some move on HBO that was like Porky's or Revenge of
the Nerds or something like that.  We drank our other hard lemonade, and
finally it was time for bed.

We started out on each side, with a wide gap between us.  But here I need
to share another tidbit about my life after my dad's death.  For about a
year after, I slept in my mom's bed.  (Nothing happened like that, you
pervs!)  But I would hold her, when she started to cry.

Eventually, I no longer did that, but I began to sleep with a body pillow,
that I would basically spoon. Well, I guess as I drifted off to sleep, the
presence of Jake in the bed triggered memories or something, and I did what
I always did, I ended moving over and hugging him (spooning him really).

I was half asleep, when I head Jake whisper softly, "Tommy?"

I woke with a start realizing the position I was in.  I started to pull my
arm away, but Jake grabbed a hold of my wrist and held it again him.  "I
don't mind," he said quietly

I wasn't quite sure what he meant by that, but all I could think about was
how it was nice snuggling against him.  I didn't say anything, but
responded by tightening my grip around his chest.  I was little surprised
when he responded by pushing backing into me, especially it seem, his butt
pushing into my groin.


I suddenly realized I could smell Jake.  It was a combination of chlorine,
and a clean bathed smell.  Without thinking, I found myself taking a deep
breath through my nose.  It was a nice smell, which for some reason I felt
all the way down into my groin.

That's how I fell asleep.


To be continued....


Please give me your feedback at trojanboy2012@hotmail.com