To the Mat -- Pt. 1, by Swimmboy4@aol.com
This story involves sexual contact between young males.
If such stories are not appealing to you, or
it is illegal to read such material in your jurisdiction, please do not
Cody Fox loved the smell of sweat -- he
reveled in it. Walking into the
wrestling workout room in the campus athletic building, Cody always had the
same reaction -- he would deeply inhale, savoring the body odor of his
teammates, and then he would become semi-aroused, as his long penis began to
stretch and twitch, pressing against the fabric of his sweatpants, tenting them
noticeably. And he didn't give a damn who saw it, for Cody was a man, and felt no shame in being a
man, or letting others know he had a sex organ that was in working order.
He was a junior on the Holden College
team, and one of several stars on the squad.
Coach Weber, one of the most successful wrestling coaches among Division
II schools, had built the team in just five years from a so-so squad of wannabes
into a powerhouse team that had won their divisional championships two years
running. With seniors such as Mark
Jamison in the 184 weight class, and Luke Collins at 165, the team was in good
standing for the upcoming battles with the bigger boys.
The heavyweight position was still tenuous, however, as Bryan
"B-man" Bingham was still nursing a pulled shoulder muscle from an early
September training accident. Cody was
the anchor for the juniors, and he wrestled at the 174 weight class level.
another top junior, was one of the smallest kids on the team, in the 133 class,
but he was also one of the toughest.
sophomore class was not lacking in talent, either.
Jamie Knox was in the 125 weight group, and
he was another tough wrestler, having been runner-up at divisionals
the previous spring. Several other soph boys -- including Carter Jacks and Jeremy Gasconde, were highly ranked in pre-season standings.
But the freshman class was perhaps Coach
Weber's pride and joy. His recruiting
had been phenomenal, and several kids who could easily have attended a Division
I school, had instead opted for Holden
Zach Crisswell was
a Michigan state high school champion who had been offered a full ride at Ann
Arbor, but he said the big UM campus just didn't `feel right', so he chose
Holden, which was not that far from home anyhow, being located in northern
Indiana. Josh Rettig
was another standout freshman who would be strong in the 149 weight class.
Then there was Bryan Carmichael.
Bryan wrestled in the 174
class, like Cody. He was strong, he was
tough, and he was what Coach called a "technical" wrestler, meaning he knew the
moves, the pins, the escapes. He wrestled
as much with his mind as with his body.
But where Cody was outgoing, Bryan
was rather introverted. Cody's loud,
boisterous, strapping personality was the opposite of Bryan's quiet, subdued, almost shy
nature. On the mat, Bryan was fierce and determined, but off the
mat, he was reserved, introspective.
Since boys of the same weight class usually paired off in practice so
they could get the "feel" of wrestling a guy of similar weight and stature -- as
they would during meets -- it was only natural that Cody and Bryan would share a
lot of time together during workouts, away trips, etc.
Close, almost intimate friendships often
formed between the young men who shared so much with one another, and so Cody
expected the same relationship would develop between himself and "the new kid
Bryan." When Cody had arrived on campus two
years ago, he had been paired with Doug, a junior, who wrestled in the 165
class (also Cody's class as a freshman, before he'd packed on ten lean pounds
of muscle). Cody and Doug had become
inseparable, to the point where many mistook them as brothers.
Grad school had taken Doug to the West Coast,
and Cody found himself missing his `brother' more than he could have
imagined. He wondered if it would be
possible to build such a relationship with a new guy, this freshman kid named Bryan.
Bryan had blossomed as an athlete during his high school
years in suburban St. Louis.
He had attended a huge school of some 2,400
students. In a school that large, you
could remain anonymous if you so chose.
And, except for his membership on the wrestling squad, Bryan was, indeed, just another face in the
crowd, though certainly a more handsome face than most.
At 6'1", he was about average in height for
an athlete, but his toned, muscular body attested to his prowess on the
mat. Besides wrestling, he was an
excellent swimmer, and had continued to swim on his community's summer league
team through high school, both for the aerobic workout, and for the sheer joy
of swimming, a sport he loved almost as much as wrestling.
His brown hair would be bleached almost blond
by the end of summer, and this caused him to be the victim of some razzing and
teasing from his wrestling mates each September.
In fact, it was normal for a couple of his
athlete buds to show up at his summer meets, just to tease him about wearing a
`skimpy little Speedo' in public. Bryan took their teasing
good-naturedly, as was his way, and delighted in pointing out that the
wrestling singlets they would don that fall were no
more useful in covering their `manhood' than were his brief racing suits.
But though he had a few close friends, Bryan had always felt
rather shy and almost awkward in most public settings.
At the few high school parties he attended,
he spent most of the time sitting in a secluded corner, admiring the ease with
which his teammates -- both swimmers and wrestlers (though usually not at the
same party) -- mixed with the pretty girls, making small talk, getting them to
laugh and giggle and nod their heads. Bryan, with one much
older brother who'd left for college when he was only ten, had always felt
almost like an only child, and he found it hard to make small talk with any of
the few girls who took notice of the quiet guy in the corner.
In fact, Bryan could count the number of serious
dates he'd had on one hand, and he still blushed with embarrassment and perhaps
a little anger when he remembered his fumbling, futile attempt to `score' with
Samantha at the end-of-summer pool party
just before his senior year of high school.
His shy, nervous innocence had been obvious to her, and when things
hadn't gone as planned, she spread word of his performance problem among
various schoolmates, which naturally included his fellow wrestlers.
His senior year had been painful, as friends
hinted that he was `different', or `maybe not into girls,'
and some long-time buddies seemed to pull away from him.
This only reinforced his shyness, and the
chance to start anew at a college hundreds of miles from home seemed like a
godsend to him.
quiet, Midwestern wrestler arrived at Holden
College, only to be paired up with
Cody Fox, a loud, flamboyant product of a boys' Catholic school in New Jersey.
Cody was the life of every party, the taker
of any dare, the first to break out the booze, and the first to pout and
protest his innocence to any authority figure who might happen to catch him in
some sort of indiscretion or another. His charm was legendary, and had aided
him numerous times in escaping punishment for his less-than-stellar behavior.
His laughter was infectious -- everyone, girls
and guys, felt a strong attachment to him the minute they met him, and Bryan was no
different. The boys would practice on
one another daily, rehearsing moves, trying new techniques, working on pins and
escapes and holds and all those things wrestlers mastered at practices day in
and day out. As a junior, Cody lived
off-campus, in an apartment he shared with two other wrestlers, while Bryan was forced into the
dorms, as all freshmen were. The college
had this rule -- freshmen students had to live on-campus their first year,
though after that they were free to pursue housing of their choice.
So Bryan was
in a large dorm, and shared a room with another freshman, a kid named Edward
Prescott III, a chemistry major from Pennsylvania.
The two had been paired by Holden College's
`magic matching' computer, though it seemed to Bryan they had nothing in common.
was a jock -- a little shy maybe, but still a collegiate athlete, with a
hard-muscled body, a barely-passing GPA, and membership on a D-2 wrestling
team. Edward was a nerd -- there was
simply no other way to put it, Bryan
thought. The kid was smart but awkward,
gangly and inept, nervous but nice -- all the things Bryan associated with the nerdy wallflower
kids back in high school. How the hell
had the computer matched them up? Bryan could not imagine,
though he did learn they both liked dogs over cats -- aha, that MUST be it!
They were a perfect match after all!
a straight-A student who came from a family of achievers -- his dad was a
professor at a Penn State campus (though not THE Penn
State campus -- a local branch, maybe
it was Altoona?
couldn't remember), his mom a public school teacher, his older sister in grad
school at Cornell studying Biology.
Edward was a nice, polite kid, Bryan
had to admit, but that first week sharing a room was not too pleasant.
would make a mess -- Edward scolded him to clean it up.
played his music too loud -- Edward asked him to turn it down.
playfully tossed his flip-flops at their shared trash can, pretending to play
hoops -- Edward got peeved when the can tipped and spilled its contents across
the floor. Bryan found Edward to be too uptight, too
annoying. But Bryan
was at fault for causing most of the feelings of annoyance in their room. He
would toss his books on Edward's neatly made bed when returning from class -- he
never made his own bed. He spilled food crumbs and soda on the floor, which
brought a mini-invasion of ants into their room -- in all, the two boys drove
each other to near-madness with their petty bickering and fights.
But it didn't bother Bryan too much -- he spent most of his time in
class and in the gym. He was asleep for
90% of the time he was in his dorm room.
And, it didn't bother Edward too much either, for you see, Edward had
developed a hopeless crush on the bigger wrestler, and he would never push so
hard as to drive Bryan to the RA in search of a room switch.
The boys finally established a few ground
rules, and found themselves able to set aside most
differences and have an amicable dorm mate relationship by the end of their
first month together.
Bryan's relationship with
Cody had developed into a strong bond very quickly.
The hours spent together allowed them to get
the `feel' of each other -- to learn their likes and dislikes, their hopes and
dreams and goals, their interests and concerns.
Often, they would withdraw to a corner of the large gymnasium room
reserved for the team, and work on their moves and holds alone for nearly the
entire two-hour practice sessions. The
head coach or an assistant would often stop by to give them some tips on
strategy, or demonstrate a more correct grasp or arm-lock, but usually they
wrestled one another on their own, drilling and struggling, twisting and
turning, feinting, grabbing, holding and pinning for maybe ten to fifteen
minutes at a time. Then they would take
a short rest break, to discuss what worked or didn't, what an opponent might do
to counter one move or another. Then
their talk might stray into other areas -- personal life, school work, family
about a month into school, during one of their breaks, Cody scooted over close
to Bryan, wrapped his big arm around the freshman's shoulder, and said, "There
are a few wrestling moves you need to know about that we haven't practiced or
talked about. They involve the once or
twice in your collegiate career when you will come up against a dirty
wrestler." He took Bryan
out onto the mat and proceeded to lie on the mat, positioning Bryan above him.
"Now, Bry, in this
position, you can probably pin me, but look how far apart your legs are.
I can quickly move my knee upwards and, with
my shin, ram your walnuts hard enough to mash them into something the size of
two baby peas." He suddenly shot his leg
up, too quickly for Bryan to react, and firmly
but not too painfully, nudged Bryan's
exposed genital area, causing the younger athlete to grunt in anguish, though
more from the shock of what COULD have happened, than from any real pain.
"You have to be on guard for moves like that,
and be ready to take precautions," Cody explained.
nodded, understanding the gravity of such a move by an opponent.
usually such a blatant move will be caught by the ref," continued Cody, "but
there are sneakier things you have to watch out for.
Back in high school, almost no wrestler would
be caught dead making a grab or throw that required him to reach into his
opponent's crotch -- your high school buds would call you a fag - but it's different
in college. We've practiced a number of
moves where it is perfectly legit to reach a hand between a dude's legs and use
the advantage to bring him off-balance, or to toss him over your hip, or to
lift him off the mat. You will
experience such moves many times in your matches.
But once in a while, your opponent might get
a little overzealous, and really put a hurting squeeze on your favorite toy
down there. Some refs see it, some
don't. So be ready."
problem you might have, and I'm sure it happened in high school, too, is
getting a woody during a match. Did it
ever happen to you?" asked Cody. Brian
shook his head in the affirmative.
"Well, in college, it's worse -- guys will
purposely TRY to get you hard, take your mind off your match.
Often, when they do perform a crotch grab,
they might quickly poke a finger into your ass crack, trying to get you worked
up. But that is usually pretty obvious,
so they won't try it often. But they
will go for your perineum, and if they get a response from you, you're in big
my perineum?" asked Bryan,
unfamiliar with the word.
that real sensitive area between your ballsack and
your ass. Here, let me demonstrate what
I'm talking about," said Cody. Placing
Bryan in position, he performed a maneuver where a crotch grab or lift might be
expected, then, holding Bryan in place,
began to massage the younger wrestler
behind the scrotum, quickly bringing a two-fold response from Bryan -- he
grunted in surprise and arousal, and his long shaft began to quickly harden and
lengthen, though Cody had only touched him for a few seconds.
Once released from the intimate hold, Bryan sank to his knees
on the mat, inadvertently glancing down to where his gym shorts were tenting as
the `tent pole' beneath them was raised.
gaze, Cody smiled and chuckled. "See
what happens? See how easy it is for an
unscrupulous foe to get you worked up?" said Cody.
"Now, here you are, in a match in front of
your team, his team, and maybe a hundred family, friends and fans, and you've
got a boner in a tight, thin singlet that already shows way too much of your
body's most private parts! Suddenly, all
your focus is on trying to hide that big long schlong
of yours from public view, but your opponent now seizes an opportunity.
He's taken you out of the match, and focused
your mind on something entirely different.
He will lift you, stretch you, turn you to face
the audience, all the while holding you in positions that put your family
jewels on total display. He'll pull your
singlet tight, force your legs apart -- anything to humiliate you, put you at
his mercy. All the while, he may be
sneaking a hand in -- rubbing you, give your dick a quick massage or stroke --
tormenting you, keeping you hard and exposed to view.
Hell, some guys get so worked up, they start
leaking dick drool, and in red singlets like the ones
we wear, that's the kiss of death. The
red fabric turns dark almost instantly, and you get a big wet spot right over
your cock -- then, EVERYONE knows the score -- they know you are hard and
leaking, that your opponent is not only dominating your body, he's also
dominating your fuckin' dick.
He makes you his bitch, then
puts you on public display."
demonstrative rubbing of his privates had already worked poor Bryan into a total erection.
Now, his lurid description of the sexual
humiliation a fellow wrestler could perform on him had kept Bryan
totally aroused, and indeed, had brought a small drop of precum
to the tip of Bryan's
penis. Fortunately, his dark blue
practice shorts hid the evidence, the slightly darker wet spot not being very
noticeable. Still, the intimate contact
and frank discussion he'd had with Cody made Bryan realize that college wrestling would be
a whole new ballgame from what he'd known in the past, and he appreciated
Cody's honest warnings about the possible consequences of dealing with an
unsavory foe on the mat. He would have to be on his guard,
that was for sure. Bryan reached over and
grasped Cody's hand in a warm handshake, thanking him for the lesson, and the
warnings. Cody smiled, saying, "Hey, I'm
just looking out for my freshman bro, you know?"
back to his dorm after the day's practice, Bryan could not stop thinking about the "what
ifs" he might face on the mat. As Cody had warned him: "No
matter what the other guy does, keep your mind focused on YOUR moves, YOUR
skills, YOUR strengths, YOUR abilities.
Don't let the other guy get into your head.
Good advice, thought Bryan, as he reached the door to his
dormitory room. Entering the room, he
found Edward, as usual, with his nose buried in a book.
He smiled to himself, thinking how different
the two of them were.
terribly shy, and wore baggy boxers to bed, though upon rising, he would
immediately pull on jeans or sweatpants the moment his feet hit the floor.
on the other hand, felt no shyness in his own dorm room, and paraded around in
colorful boxer-briefs, and occasionally tight white briefs.
This proved a source of great torment to poor
Edward, who watched in hidden awe as his muscular roomie
strutted around in virtually nothing, his muscles and other bulges protruding
in all the right places. Edward would
watch Bryan out of the corner of his eye, quick to turn away if Bryan
glanced at him, terrified the jock would realize the nerd was `checking him
out.' But secretly, Bryan didn't mind at all -- in fact, he loved
parading around the room in his briefs, showing off his athletic bod, of which he was justifiably proud,
knowing Edward was looking at him
about six weeks into the semester, Edward arrived at their room from the dining
hall one evening, and was shocked to find Bryan
in nothing more than the briefest little pair of white bikini briefs -- briefs
much smaller and more revealing than any he usually wore.
Edward tried to look away, but felt somehow
mesmerized by the vision before him. At
6'1", Bryan was
a walking wet dream -- at least to Edward.
He had short, wavy brown hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a handsome face
with dimples. His body was muscular,
hard, with developed pecs, six-pack abs, arms and
legs swollen with muscle and power. Edward
couldn't help but notice the guy's large `package', snugly hugged by the small
bikini that barely covered it, or the way the wrestler's smooth ass was cupped
by the thin white fabric. The wrestler
had a faint `treasure trail', that little line of hair running from his belly
button down to his pubes. Edward had secretly
admired that trail before, but now, with Bryan's
small underwear, he actually got his first peek at the boy's pubes, where a few
stray hairs curled temptingly over the top of his low waistband.
Immediately, Edward was swept with a desire
to strip the small bikini down Bryan's
thighs, and unleash the large manhood beneath, just to see it, maybe to touch
it, or to...
"sorry I smell so bad! Wrestling
practice was hard as hell, and the showers in the locker room were off for some
maintenance," said Bryan.
It was only then that Edward's sense of smell
pushed his sense of sight aside, and he detected the musky scent of the
jock. Instantly, Edward's body began to
react, as the jock smell coalesced with the jock sight, forming an image of raw
sex in Edward's mind. His cock began to
harden, pushing against his boxers and his outer shorts.
Afraid the athletic stud would notice the
stirring in his pants, Edward coughed quickly and
why...why are you wearing those small briefs...I...I mean, did you run out of your
regular underwear?" Edward asked, speaking slowly, awkwardly.
Oh, have you been checking out my underwear,
dude? How did you know these were new?" Bryan asked, starting to
laugh. Seeing the look of sudden guilt
and embarrassment on Edward's face, he explained.
"Well, next week we have our first
early-season tournament, sort of a warm-up for the coming year.
It's the first time I've worn my singlet --
that's what they call the uniform we wrestlers wear, if you didn't know -- and I
always wear bikini briefs underneath to hold my boys in place, sort of keep
things down there under control," said Bryan.
"Some guys go commando, but the material from the singlet is sort of
itchy, and sometimes in a match, it can be rubbed and stretched against your
cock and balls, and, well, things can start to stir down there, if you know
what I mean! Some guys wear a jock, some
regular briefs or even boxer-briefs, but I like the small, snug bikinis -- they
tend to hold my stuff in place better.
They're called `Elance', made by Jockey."
reached into a drawer and pulled out another pair, tossing it to Edward for him
to see. Then, with a flourish, Bryan reached his right
hand between his strong thighs and cupped his male equipment in the briefs,
smiling devilishly at Edward. "I just
wanted to wear them a little, sort of break them in before I need them next
week. It was just so warm in here, I
didn't feel like putting anything on over them, but if a guy in a bikini freaks
you out, I'll go ahead and get dressed."
mean, no, don't bother, it's OK, doesn't bother me, I hardly even noticed, it
just was a surprise, that's all, you are usually in regular underwear, not
something that skimp...uh, that small," Edward stuttered and stammered, finally
forcing himself to look at the wall, his desk, anything but the nearly naked muscle
god before him. "It doesn't bother me,
really it doesn't," he said, still holding the small bikini in his shaking
Bryan smiled, then grabbed
a crumpled piece of paper and tossed it at the garbage can.
The paper hit the edge, bounced off, and
rolled under Edward's bed. Rolling his
eyes, Edward knelt on the floor to reach under the bed and retrieve it, but Bryan, knowing how
annoyed Edward got by his little games, rushed over and said, "I'll get it," as
he tried to nudge the smaller youth aside.
But in the kneeling position, Edward was off-balance, and the small
nudge sent him toppling onto the floor, ticking him off even more.
Now somewhat angry, Edward batted Bryan's hand away when
the wrestler tried to help him up.
games always end up making a mess I need to clean up," Edward said
sarcastically. Bryan just pursed his lips, but said
nothing. But he was surprised when his
roommate gave him a rather sharp shove, and sent the athlete stumbling backward
a step or two.
just one piece of paper," Bryan
said, stepping back over next to Edward, who was once again on his knees.
But now, with Bryan
right next to him, Bryan's
well-filled briefs were virtually in Edward's face, and the smaller boy could
smell the jock's musky scent -- and could clearly see the outline of his manhood
in the tight little underwear he wore.
In frustration, he tried to shove Bryan
again, but this time Bryan
was ready, and easily deflected the slight blow, laughing playfully as he
pushed Edward's skinny, flailing arm away, then used his bulky body to muscle
his way next to Edward's bed to pick up the paper.
"I'll clean up my big mess -- one piece of
paper -- so you don't have to," said the wrestler.
Now rather angry, Edward again shoved against
Bryan, who was now on one knee, and the force pushed the bigger guy against the
side of the bed -- hard. Another push,
another shove, a nasty word here and there, and suddenly, the two boys were
seriously struggling, arms locked around each other as each vied for
control. The match was unfair from the
start -- a thin, bookworm in baggy shorts and tee-shirt vs. a toned, muscled
jock in briefs -- a wrestler with years of experience countering holds, grabs,
and shoves. In moments, Edward was
pinned to the carpet, totally helpless, as Bryan lay atop him, holding Edward's
arms above his head with one hand, his thick legs easily immobilizing the thinner
ones beneath, while with his free hand he teasingly, but softly, slapped
Edward's cheek, taunting him by saying, "Dude, you really want to challenge
ME? I'm the jock here -- I'm far stronger
than you, tougher than you, more powerful than you.
Do you really think you stand even a remote
chance of beating me?"
Bryan was still smiling,
seeing this all as a game -- two buds wrestling playfully.
Edward continued to struggle beneath him,
pushing his body upward in a futile attempt to roll the big jock away.
As the battle continued, Bryan felt something hard pressing into his
groin -- apparently Edward had something rigid in his pocket that was forcefully
thrusting into his crotch area. Probably
his cell phone, thought Bryan,
until, glancing upward, his eye caught sight of the phone on the desk next to
Edward's bed. "What is that long,
hard...,." wondered Bryan,
until he suddenly knew exactly what it was.
Through his thin briefs, he could now feel the size and shape of the
object -- even through the fabric of Edward's shorts -- that was pressing against
his own genitals. And he could see it in
Edward's face -- a face red and flushed, eyes beginning to tear, eyes that would
not look into his own. And for some
could not understand, the realization that Edward had a hard-on, apparently
aroused by their close contact, caused a strange sensation in the wrestler's
loins. A sudden surge of
- what was it? Envy?
Desire? Need? Bryan
wasn't sure, but he quickly found himself growing hard in his small bikini as
Edward continued to thrust helplessly against him.
Suddenly embarrassed, and knowing that an
erection would be completely visible in his briefs, Bryan quickly said matter-of-factly, "I win,"
reached under the bed and grabbed the paper, extricated himself from atop
Edward, tossed the paper into the can, and hurried over to his own bed.
Edward slowly stood up, a look of shame and
humiliation on his face as he furtively tried to pull his shirt far enough down
to cover the prominent bulge in his shorts.
Quickly pulling on his sweatpants,
sandals and a shirt, Bryan
said, "I'm going out for a while," and fled from the room, leaving his beaten
foe looking ashamed, guilty, and oddly sad -- even depressed.
Edward's mind screamed. "Oh God, he knows.
He felt my erection.
He knows how I feel.
He knows now."
the warm late-afternoon sun, Bryan
was confused. "What just happened?" he
asked himself. "Is Edward into...well,
into guys? Is he into me?" Bryan pondered.
But then, as he calmed, the wrestler realized
he was over-analyzing things. "Shit,
I've sprung boners plenty of times in both wrestling practice and in
matches. And I wasn't `into' those guys
-- it just happens! Dicks get hard
sometimes, that's what they're supposed to do!
It's no biggie -- hell, no big deal at all.
I'm such a nutcase sometimes," he said,
chuckling to himself. Hurrying back to
his room, he found Edward writing
something in longhand on a piece of
paper -- probably some homework, the jock assumed.
"Hey Edward," Bryan said, "Listen -- from now on, any mess I
make, I will clean up.
That's only fair. Let's go get
some pizza -- my treat!" Edward looked up
and smiled, though Bryan
noticed it was a sad smile -- a look of loss and despair, hopelessness -- an
expression he had never seen on Edward's face before.
Bryan," Edward said quietly, "but I need to finish something here.
You go on, enjoy your dinner.
What time do you think you'll be back?"
about an hour, maybe a little more. Why
do you ask?" Bryan
"Oh, I was
just wondering. Good-bye, Bryan," Edward
said, another brief, sad smile flickering across his face as he bent his head
and returned to his writing. Bryan turned and left the
room, shaking his head, a strange feeling in his heart.
As Bryan reached the
sidewalk in front of their dorm, Edward signed his name at the bottom of the
paper on which he had been writing. A
tear fell onto the paper, slightly smearing the ink in the "w" of his name.
Furiously, the boy wiped his eyes with the
back of his hand, then folded the paper and placed it on Bryan's pillow.
reached the end of the sidewalk and started to turn in the direction of his
favorite pizza place, Edward slowly stripped naked, neatly folding his shirt,
shorts and boxers and placing them at the foot of his bed.
He reached down and picked up the small pair
of bikini briefs Bryan
had tossed to him earlier -- the pair he had dropped on the floor when the two
began struggling. Lovingly, he pulled
them gently up his thighs and snugly into place, relishing the thought of
skimpy underwear -- briefs his hero had wrestled in, sweated and struggled and
strained his mighty body in, perhaps even secreted his sexual emissions in.
Edward's heart was pounding in his ears, and
he could barely breath, as he imagined what it would have been like to have
once -- just once - been
able to hold Bryan in his arms in an act of love, to nuzzle his strong neck, to
kiss his shoulder, to caress his muscular body, to softly kiss his lips and
face, to even, to even... .
As Bryan reached the edge of
campus and started to cross the street to the pizza parlor, Edward removed the
tie cord from his bathrobe, pushed a chair into the corner of the room where an
old steam or water pipe projected from beneath the ceiling tiles, and firmly
tied one end to the pipe. Still standing
on the chair, Edward began to tie the other end of the cord around his
neck. Dodging traffic, Bryan reached the far side of the street, and
pulled the door of Marco's Pizza
Place open, habitually reaching toward his back
pocket to retrieve his ...WALLET! "Damn
it, I forgot my wallet! What an idiot I
am!" thought Bryan.
He quickly turned and left the restaurant,
then remembered an ATM only a block away, and turned in that direction.
But he had promised his folks he would only
use his ATM card in an emergency. "Does
my dumb forgetfulness qualify as an emergency?" he wondered, as he continued up
the block toward the ATM. Then, another
thought hit him -- "My ATM card is IN my wallet!
Damn, when Cody flipped me in practice today, he must have jarred my
brain loose!" Quickly walking back
across the street, Bryan
headed onto campus grounds in the direction of his dorm.
"Man, I am dumb AND hungry," thought the
wrestler, as something urged him to jog, not walk, back to his dorm.
As Bryan began
to jog, Edward finished knotting the cord around his throat, and took one last
look around the room, his eyes finally coming to rest on the letter he had
placed on Bryan's
pillow. Then, choking back sobs and
tears of anger, loneliness, and bitter frustration -- emotions that had been
building in him since puberty, Edward angrily stepped off the chair into