Water Polo Balls -- Pt. 4, 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 continue reading.

Bryce knew better than to run in the school hallways. But he also knew that Ms. Maxwell, the school head secretary, had always stressed that any articles for the upcoming week's school newsletter or website HAD to be in her hands by Monday morning at 8:30 a.m. -- SHARP. She always enunciated the word `sharp' -- just to make a `point', thought Bryce wryly as he raced down the corridor at 8:28 a.m. He had written a short blurb about Jake's invitation to the Junior Olympic camp, and he wanted it posted as soon as possible. He had also printed a bunch of flyers about the water polo team's upcoming schedule that he was planning to post on hallway bulletin boards. As he ran toward the intersection where the corridor led to Ms. Maxwell's office, he did not see the school custodian had just mopped a section of the floor right around the corner.

A short way down the hall, Jake was just now entering his morning math class -- he was actually the last student to arrive. From his vantage point, he could see the hallway corner, the wet floor, and Bryce racing toward disaster. Just as he opened his mouth to yell a warning, Bryce rounded the curve.

Bryce never knew what hit him -- his feet literally flew out from under him, and he was briefly airborne until coming down hard on the unforgiving tile floor, his head cracking loud enough to make a sickening thud, knocking him into unconsciousness, as a shower of the papers he'd been clutching in his hands slowly rained down upon and around his prone form.

"Oh, no!" yelled Jake, dropping his books and hurrying to the hallway intersection to check on Bryce. Kneeling next to him, Jake gently shook the boy's shoulder, asking if he was OK, but receiving no reply. Concern clouding his face, Jake, who had First Aid training the previous summer as a lifeguard, quickly but carefully checked Bryce's neck for any possible broken bones. Replaying the accident in his mind, he was certain Bryce had suffered no neck or spinal injuries, so he cautiously scooped the smaller boy up in his strong arms and carried him as rapidly as he dared down the hall to the infirmary, pausing at Ms. Maxwell's door to ask her to find Dr. Witherspoon right away. Then he went on to the infirmary and laid Bryce on the examining table, while the nasal voice of the secretary could be heard paging the headmaster through the intercom system. Barely another minute passed before the elderly gentleman arrived, a look of deep concern sweeping across his face at the sight of the unconscious student.

Jake quickly filled the doctor in on what had transpired while the doctor examined Bryce, checking his pulse (which was strong), breathing (normal), and pupil dilation (also normal). Another two or three minutes passed before Bryce began to stir, mumbling and squirming on the table as he slowly came to. "Wha...what...happened?" he asked quietly, reaching to touch the sore spot on his skull where his head had hit the floor. As he slowly came around, he couldn't help but smile when he saw Jake's handsome face hovering above him, then felt Jake's hand softly stroke his cheek and hair.

"Hey, little guy," Jake began, "you took a nasty spill in the hallway, and really hit your head on the floor. You've been out like a light for several minutes. Just lie still while the doc checks you over." Dr. Witherspoon was making notes on a pad, but stopped when he saw Bryce stirring. He briskly walked over to the boy and attached a blood pressure sleeve on Bryce's arm, pumped it up, and made more notes as the machine registered its findings. He nodded approvingly at the numbers, then walked back to his private office to check the student's health file. Meanwhile, Jake remained by the examining table, his hand resting lightly but reassuringly on Bryce's shoulder.

Though his head was still hurting, Bryce was rapidly recovering from the fall. He smiled up at Jake and whispered, "How did I get here?"

Jake looked down and smiled, then said, "Well, I sort of picked you up and carried you here. Couldn't just leave you crumpled up on the floor, could I? Who's gonna keep track of all my goals and assists if you're not at the next game?" Bryce smiled again, and started to laugh a little -- until a sharp pain made him grimace instead. When the pain subsided, he looked up at Jake, then motioned for the big jock to lean over so he could tell him something private.

Jake lowered his head, placing his ear close to Bryce's mouth. Bryce said quietly, "Jake, could you, um, maybe, well, could you please stay with me here for awhile? I...I don't want to be alone...with him," he said, nodding toward the doctor's office. Jake was astounded by the request, and a puzzled frown appeared on his face as he turned toward Bryce questioningly. The smaller boy continued, saying, "I'm sort of afraid of him. I, well, I saw what he did to you the other night -- I was in the hallway, and stopped at yours and Derek's room to ask about the scrimmage game. The door was open a crack, and, well, I didn't mean to spy or anything, but I saw him...well, I saw him doing stuff to you -- stuff he should not have done." Jake felt his heart drop to his stomach -- he had no idea anyone other than Derek had witnessed his humiliation. Jake bit his lower lip, pondering what to say or do, as Bryce added, "I'm afraid of him, Jake. Please don't leave me alone with him. Please stay." Jake nodded his head, determined to remain by his schoolmate's side.

In his private office, Dr. Witherspoon was approaching the door when he overheard the injured boy pleading with Jake to stay, saying he was afraid to be left alone with the doctor. A feeling of cold emptiness hit the old man like a ton of bricks, and he barely reached his chair before collapsing into it. `Dear me,' he thought, `is this what it has come to? What have I done?' Dr. Witherspoon put his face in his hands and suddenly began to quietly sob. He had known boys to be intimidated by him, shocked by him, aroused by him, stimulated by him, angered by him -- but never had he believed one could be afraid of him -- so afraid that he did not want to be alone with him, even in a doctor-patient relationship. He would never -- NEVER -- hurt any of the boys in his care. Didn't they know that? He loved them -- or so he told himself. But raising his head, he suddenly saw his reflection in a mirror across the room -- and suddenly, he saw what they saw -- an old man, a fool, a man who should be trusted but was instead feared. And he despised himself for his foolish infatuation with the beautiful youths of the world. What in hell had he been thinking, taking this position that put him so close, so intimate, with the fruit he had long forbidden himself ever since the problems at that school so many years ago?

Composing himself, Dr. Witherspoon walked back into the examining room. "Everything looks good, young man," he said, addressing Bryce. "But I'd like Mr. Taylor to remain here with you for awhile, then escort you back to your dorm room. I want you to remain in bed resting for the remainder of the morning, and take one of these pain pills every four hours for your head, beginning now." He handed the pills to Jake, who removed one and placed the remainder in his pocket. "I have some business to take care of," the man continued, "but I'll be by your room around noon to check on you. Mr. Taylor, I will make certain your teachers are aware of the reason for your absence from classes today. Give the boy another half-hour to rest here, then please walk him to his room. Will you be able to remain by his side for a few hours?"

"Yes sir," Jake answered, "I'll stay with him for as long as you think is necessary." The old man smiled, but rather sadly, thought Jake, then he left the infirmary and headed up the hallway. Turning to Bryce, Jake smiled warmly, then patted the younger boy on the upper arm. "Let me get a cup of water so you can take this pill," he said. Soon, Bryce was resting comfortably, with Jake in a chair nearby keeping careful watch over his injured friend. About thirty minutes later, he helped Bryce stand, and walked him back to his room. Jake had never been to Bryce's dorm room before, and as they neared the door, the stricken boy suddenly became somewhat agitated, almost reluctant to go in.

"I, um, well, I'm a big fan of you guys on the team, Jake, so I have a few pictures of you guys on my wall." Entering the room, Jake was surprised and flattered to see about a dozen enlarged photos -- mostly of himself, but also Derek and a couple of their teammates, on the walls on Bryce's side of the room. Most were great action shots -- Jake leaping half out of the water to block a shot, Derek hefting the ball in his hand preparing to fire at the net, and a touching shot of the two hugging on the deck after a tough game. Jake found the last shot to be oddly erotic -- he and Derek in an embrace, their dripping wet, muscular bodies pressed tightly together, their Speedo-clad groins touching almost intimately. "What beautiful shots," Jake whispered under his breath. "Who took these? Where did you get them?"

"Well, I did, I guess," Bryce answered meekly. "I...I hope you don't mind. I never really showed them to you guys because I didn't think they were that good."

"Mind? Not that good? Are you kidding? These are great! Is there any way I could get copies for myself -- and for Derek? Maybe the whole team -- you have lots of guys in these pictures, though, hmmm, it looks like about half are of...me!" Jake said enthusiastically. "You must be my biggest fan!" Bryce's face reddened considerably, and he smiled shyly as Jake helped him over to his bed, agreeing to make copies for Jake and any others who might want them. "Here, Bryce, why don't you let me help you out of your school uniform so you can slip into bed and rest more comfortably?" Bryce slipped off his school jacket, then sat down somewhat sleepily on the edge of his bed. Jake hung the blazer in the small closet, then came over next to Bryce, who was fumbling with the knot in his tie. "Here, let me," said Jake, as his agile fingers loosened the tight knot. He removed the tie and placed it on Bryce's dresser, then helped him unbutton his shirt, which he also hung in the closet. Bryce kicked off his loafers, but when Jake started to pull his socks off, he stated he wanted to keep them on because his feet were cold. Bryce started to scoot under the covers, but Jake suggested he remove his school trousers so they wouldn't get wrinkled. Bryce slowly stood, slipped off his belt, then unbuttoned his trousers. Shyly, he slipped them down and stepped out of them, handing them to Jake, who put them on a hanger next to the blazer.

Turning back toward the younger boy, Jake had to smile at the shy, innocent way Bryce stood next to his bed, in just his socks and a pair of white, Fruit of the Loom briefs, clasping his hands in front of himself, apparently somewhat embarrassed to let Jake see his `package'. He looked down at the floor, perhaps a little ashamed to be so nearly naked in front of the hottest jock in school. Jake had to bite his lip to keep from chuckling at the kid -- or more appropriately, young man, thought Jake, noticing how Bryce's clasped hands could not conceal the fair-sized bulge Bryce had revealed upon removing his pants. "In you go," said Jake, as he lifted the covers. Jake smiled at the youthful way Bryce leaped onto the bed and quickly squirmed under the warm sheet and blanket. The boy settled comfortably, and Jake tucked him into bed. For reasons he could not explain, Jake reached up and gently patted Bryce's cheek, letting his fingers slowly caress the warm skin, feeling the soft peach fuzz beginning to show there. Bryce smiled up at his hero, whispering, "Thanks, Jake", as Jake stepped back, then sat in a nearby chair and pulled out his literature book to catch up on a few stories he needed to read for an upcoming test.

Bryce fought to stay awake, wanting to watch Jake watching over him, but the narcotic effect of the pill, combined with the warm, safe feeling of being under Jake's care, quickly lured the boy into a restful sleep. Jake kept a watchful eye on Bryce, but also completed his reading assignment while his schoolmate slept soundly. Around noon, Dr. Witherspoon arrived, tapping quietly on the door. Jake admitted him, and Bryce awoke upon hearing their voices. The doctor said Bryce was well enough to go to afternoon classes, and thanked Jake for his assistance. Then he left the room. Bryce hopped out of bed, then froze in his tracks when he caught site of himself in the mirror over his dresser -- he had awakened with a raging case of "morning wood", though it was nearly noon, and found himself standing before Jake in a pair of briefs that were obscenely tented by his large erection. "Oh...um...oh," he stuttered, his hands grabbing for the sheet to pull up in front of himself. But Jake had tucked the sheet tight, and it wouldn't budge very easily, leaving poor Bryce engorged and exposed for quite a long time, much to Jake's amusement. Finally, Bryce hurried to the closet and grabbed his trousers, and, with a good bit of difficulty, finally was able to tuck his randy `member' out of sight.

Jake smiled again, then turned to leave. Bryce called out to him. "Jake, I, well, I just wanted to thank you for everything you did for me today -- you know, carrying me to the infirmary, helping me to my room, getting me undressed -- I, I mean, getting me into bed -- um, well, you know what I mean," he said, his face flushing with color.

Jake grinned at Bryce, then said, "Hey, no problem, man -- glad I could help." He walked over to Bryce and grasped his hand, then, on impulse, pulled the smaller student against his chest in a friendly hug, wrapping a thick, muscular arm around Bryce's narrow waist. Bryce shuddered involuntarily at the warm embrace, and lingered a few moments longer than he intended, resting his head against Jake's large pecs. As they finally separated, Bryce was trying to catch his breath, and hoping Jake didn't notice his racing pulse. As he stepped back, he smiled shyly at Jake, who returned the smile. And at that very moment, the button on Bryce's pants, which had not been properly hooked, suddenly came loose, causing his pants to drop to his ankles, and a pair of badly strained white briefs, distended in front by something straining from within, to pop back into view. Bryce humbly stooped to pull his school trousers back up as Jake, chuckling loudly, walked out the door saying, "You need to take care of that thing before it gets you into trouble."

The following weekend was going to be a busy one at the Hardwood pool -- the swimming and diving team was hosting an invitational meet Friday and Saturday, and the water polo team was playing a cross-state rival on Sunday. Derek and Jake practiced hard that week, and felt their team was well prepared for the upcoming game. Meanwhile, David continued to perfect his dives during his early evening practices. Derek knew little about the nuances and technicalities of diving -- but he knew one thing for sure -- David was simply amazing as he spun and twisted in the air, entering the water with barely a splash. Often, Derek's practices would end before David and the other diver -- Derek thought his name was Gavin -- had completed their practice, and Derek would sit in the stands for fifteen or twenty minutes to watch in awe while waiting for slow-poke Jake to finish his shower and dress. David would usually see Derek, and wave to him from atop the board, then execute some awesome triple-spin, double-flip something or other that would leave Derek staring open-mouthed. Thursday night was no exception, as David once again did dive after dive with perfection, though his coach offered comments and suggestions after each dive, with David listening intently and nodding his head.

"Come on, man, let's get some grub. I'm starving!" yelled Jake, startling Derek out of his reverie. "You can watch your boyfriend dive this weekend!" Jake added with a smile and poke to the ribs, though the unexpected comment made Derek cringe, and look at his roommate suspiciously, wondering if Jake's comment had some deeper meaning. Did Jake suspect something, or was he just being big, goofy, lovable Jake the jokester? Jake was always trying to get a rise out of someone, and outrageous, and even lewd comments, were a part of his game plan. A couple of their polo teammates had taken to calling him `The Jakester', accusing him of always trying to stir up fun -- or trouble. Derek saw Jake smiling at him devilishly, and assumed his buddy was only trying to be funny. Still, Derek knew he had to be on guard...

After dinner, the boys were back in their room finishing up some homework assignments. Derek was lying on his bed reading, but Jake was restless, and finally got up and went to a drawer, where he pulled out a new swimsuit. "Dude," he said to Derek, "what did you do with the new suit coach gave you earlier this week -- leave it in the locker room?" Derek nodded `yes', then returned to his studies, but it suddenly became hard to concentrate. Stripping off his tee-shirt, shorts, and boxers, Jake shyly turned away from Derek, then began pulling on his new suit. Bending and tugging, Jake gave Derek an unobstructed view of his tight ass, a view Derek didn't mind a bit, though he tried not to be obvious about enjoying the scene. Jake finally got the super-small suit on, though the cut was extremely brief and left little to the imagination. A good one-to-two inches of ass cleavage was showing, and it was quite apparent that Jake's narrow `treasure trail' running below his navel, sprouted from a virtual forest of pubic hair just above his cock shaft. Derek snorted in amusement, but could not hold back a question.

"Jake, why do you get these suits that are so small? Why do you downsize so much?" Jake looked up and grinned, then stepped over to the mirror to admire himself, turning to and fro as he did.

Reaching down, he blatantly cupped his genitals, which were snugly ensconced in the tight pouch of the suit. "Well," he drawled, continuing to cup his maleness, "my boys are all safe and snug. The suit is tight, making it hard to grab and try to rip. And the back" -- here, he turned his back to the mirror, then peered over his shoulder, grinning at the amount of exposed crack -- "well, I like some crack to show -- you know, it wins over the female fans, and it can distract any of my opponents who play for the other team, if you get my drift." Glancing at Derek, he winked his eye and flashed his pearly whites. Derek shook his head, and tried to focus on his book, but Jake came over and stood right next to Derek's bed, his barely-covered groin only a foot or so from Derek. Running his finger lightly along the waistband of the suit where a few stray pubes poked into view, he continued. "I can trim my pubes along here, so they won't show. But sometimes, I like them to show -- well, a little anyway -- just to let the other guys know I'm a man, not a boy, and not someone they should toy with. Jake continued to absentmindedly stroke his fingers along his lower abdomen and through the top of his exposed bush. Derek, watching the show, became instantly mesmerized, wishing they were his fingers rubbing along the low-cut waist band of Jake's small suit, hooking the suit, tugging it down his thighs, grabbing his..."No, stop it" -- his mind cried out, even as his rapidly hardening prick was beginning to stretch his briefs. "It's not hard to trim pubes, is it?" Jake said, rousing Derek from his fantasy. Derek shrugged his shoulders, uncertain how to reply. "I guess I can ask one of the guys on the swim team -- they do a lot of body shaving before big meets -- remember that time we caught them in the locker room last year, Derek? The night before their conference championships?"

Derek remembered the incident vividly -- he and Jake had been walking near the pool one evening, and heard a commotion coming from the boys' varsity locker room. Going inside, they had been shocked to find the entire swim team, wearing nothing but their tiniest racing suits, with several of the guys covered with shaving cream. Their teammates were wielding razors, and scraping the hair -- what little there was in most cases - from their hard young bodies. Most on the team already knew the polo boys, and knowing Jake and Derek were fellow aquatic athletes, they had allowed them to stay. Both boys had declined to help with the shaving, though both joined the good-natured ribbing and somewhat ribald humor and banter. Derek remembered the semi-hard, and yes, even hard cocks many of the swimmers sported inside their lycra swimsuits -- apparently the giving and receiving of a `shavedown' was cause for sexual excitement for many. Suddenly, Derek pictured Jake -- in one of his tiny suits, covered with shaving cream. "I'll shave you," Derek suddenly blurted out without realizing what he was saying. Trying to cover his comments, Derek continued: "I...I mean, I will help you shave if you need any help -- you don't have to ask one of the guys on the swim team, unless you really wanted to, or didn't trust me to do it right."

Jake smiled broadly at Derek, and thanked him for the offer. "I can probably do the actual shaving on my own, Derek, but I might need your advice, or your eyes to let me know how far down to shave." Derek nodded his head shyly, fearful his outburst had seemed too eager -- too unusual -- and that maybe Jake had felt the offer was odd. Instead, Jake went back to slowly rubbing his fingertips along the waistband, gently caressing his lower abs from side to side. Almost without being conscious of what he was doing, Derek raised his hand and placed his index finger on Jake's lower tummy, right where his slight trail of hair running south from his navel met the upper hairs of his pubic region and disappeared into the low-slung suit. Barely touching the soft skin, Derek traced his own finger along the waistband, while Jake's hand dropped to his side. "Yes," Derek said, seemingly in a daze or trance, "just along here is where we will need to shave you. Just to remove a few wispy pubes," he barely whispered, his voice husky with emotion, his index finger straying along the top of Jake's partially exposed bush. The touch of Derek's finger made Jake shudder, and emit a small grunt of pleasure. Derek continued to slowly tickle and delicately trace his finger across Jake's flat, muscular lower abdomen -- well below his navel, and virtually along the area of his inguinal ligaments. Within seconds, Derek noticed Jake's flaccid penis had hardened as it stretched sideways in his small suit, the flared head nearly to his hip and pressing up against the waistband.

Derek closed his eyes, wondering if he dared -- did he have the nerve -- could he actually do what he so desperately wanted to do? Could he drop his fingers just one inch lower -- just one damn inch! -- and run them along the hard shaft Jake seemed to be offering him? Just trace that hard piece of man-meat right out to the tip, then back down toward the root? Rubbing it, teasing it, stroking it the way he had fantasized doing so many nights? Glancing up, he saw Jake's eyes were closed, his head thrown back, biting his lower lip in what appeared to be anticipation. Derek knew what he had to do. His resistance was gone, the desire too great. He lowered his fingers one inch and began to lightly stroke Jake's rock-hard dick through the thin lycra fabric. Using just his fingertips, he tentatively felt Jake's mighty sex organ -- now throbbing in the small suit, stretching the waistband far enough out that the large, bulbous mushroom head of his cock was actually visible as it began to poke out of the suit, still pressed tightly against his lower abs. Jake made no move to back away -- he just stood there next to Derek, his hips thrusting his groin toward his roommate, head thrown back, his breath coming in short, rapid gasps. Derek, now driven by desires he had long kept hidden, suddenly felt overpowered by lust. He snaked a finger down the front of the suit and tugged downward, releasing Jake's cock, which burst forth in all its glory -- popping free of the lycra, it suddenly leapt outward, stretched to its full length, and pointed straight at Derek. No longer in control of himself, Derek grasped the lengthy shaft with a quivering right hand, wrapping his fingers snugly around the maleness before him. He could feel the hardness, the veins, the rough scar of Jake's circumcision, the stray hairs, and the pulsing lifeforce of Jake's naked sex organ. Holding the dick firmly with his right hand, Derek began to graze his thumb across the sensitive glans of Jake's purple `head', and received a warm, wet `thank you' in the form of squirts of lubricant from Jake's dickhead. Jake was so stoked, so aroused -- that his cock was beginning to leak lubricating pre-cum in small squirts, seemingly timed to every touch of his glans from Derek's thumb. Derek would teasingly brush his thumb across the purple cap, Jake would squirt -- another brush, another squirt, until Jake's cockhead was literally drizzling a copious flow of clear fluids which Derek gently smeared over the cap until it was glistening with a sticky coating.

And then it happened -- Derek, trying to get a better grip on the proffered gift Jake was thrusting at him, shifted his fingers, rubbing against that special spot on the underside of Jake's steel-hard shaft -- the spot that was so extremely sensitive, that spot that drove Jake completely over the edge whenever it was touched. When Derek's fingers touched that spot, it was all over for Jake. With a husky moan from deep in his throat, Jake lost control, and his cock began spewing gobs of thick, ropy cum, shooting uncontrollably onto Derek, onto the bed beside Derek, and onto the floor nearby. The gushing explosion of cum seemed to go on forever, as Jake's tormented penis released a huge, steaming load of his teenseed.

But within seconds of the initial explosion, and while his dick was still erupting, Jake began to stagger back from Derek's bed, trying futilely to cover his naked shaft, to catch the spurting semen in his hands, to tug the small Speedo back over his nakedness and catch the viscous flow still shooting from his penis. "I'm so sorry...Derek, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," Jake muttered as he staggered back toward his own side of the room, shame and embarrassment showing plainly on his face. With his still-oozing dick now tucked painfully back into the Speedo, Jake grabbed his tee-shirt off his bed and stepped back over to Derek, who was still leaning back on his own bed, several splotches of warm cum sprayed across his torso and on the tented briefs barely covering him. Jake began to swipe the shirt across Derek's chest, swabbing up the seed he had deposited on Derek only moments ago -- on his chest, his abdomen, even some in his navel. In a frenzy, Jake began to go lower, trying to wipe the cum off the very briefs covering Derek -- until he suddenly felt Derek's stiff prick through the cotton material, and noticed most of the wetness was coming from inside Derek's briefs. With the sudden realization that Derek had just ejaculated his own load of sperm, Jake stood up and slowly backed away, clutching the tee-shirt/cum rag in his right hand, not sure what to say or do.


Derek was still trying to catch his breath, trying to come down from the climax he had just enjoyed, when Jake had begun wiping him -- and his briefs-covered groin -- with the tee-shirt. Now seeing Jake standing in the middle of the room, looking scared (or was it ashamed?), unsure what to do, Derek said simply, "I guess we both need another shower." Jake just nodded slowly, but his eyes were downcast, not looking into Derek's at all. Quickly, the two boys donned pairs of shorts and flip-flops, grabbed clean underwear, and headed down the hall to the showers. Jake was very reticent, not speaking or even looking Derek's way, and Derek thought it best to say nothing. After quick showers, they were back in their room, ready for bed. The silence was deafening, and both boys looked as if they bore the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Hopping silently into bed, Derek reached up and switched off the light. The room was quiet for several minutes, while Derek felt the pain and dread of having done something he now regretted. "What was I thinking?" his mind cried out. "How could I have done that? Now Jake must know that I'm gay -- a fuckin' fag, he'll probably say. He'll go to the office in the morning and demand a room transfer. He'll tell the guys on the team -- they'll shun me, maybe force me off the team altogether." Derek's mind screamed as these horrid thoughts tormented him, and tears welled up in his eyes. "Jake must hate me now -- I've destroyed our friendship, ruined everyth..."

"Derek?" Jake's voice cut into Derek's troubled thoughts, shocking him back to the present. "Yeah?" Derek choked back in response. Jake said, "Well, um, I guess I just wanted to say thanks for, uh, helping me out -- you know, sort of helping me relieve my tensions and everything, like you did a few minutes ago."

Derek was stunned. Jake was thanking him for `relieving his tensions', as he'd put it? Was it possible Jake wasn't angry after all? "Oh, well, you're welcome, man, that's what buddies are for," Derek replied, trying to sound casual, like it was nothing at all.

"No, dude," Jake responded, "that's what best friends are for."

Saturday came early, and the day began at the pool. The water polo team had an early, abbreviated practice, since the swim meet prelims began at ten, meaning the swimmers needed to be in the water by 8:30 to warm up. Jake and Derek stayed to watch the preliminary swims, to cheer on their friends and school mates, and to watch David perform in the early diving rounds. David was virtually flawless, scoring 8s and 9s, even a handful of 10s, in those rounds. Only one dive gave him a bit of trouble -- one involving two and a half twists, which led to a larger than usual splash at the entry. But the other divers never even attempted the tricky dive, so David was well ahead in preliminary dives. Hardwood's swim team qualified many athletes for the evening finals, and was ranked second overall behind Middleton Charter School, a cross-state rival. It was the polo team from Middleton that Jake and Derek's team would face in the game the following day. Following the meet, Derek headed over to the library for some studying, while Jake went, well, wherever Jake went on a Saturday, Derek mused to himself. Usually Jake was found in a game of touch (or sometimes rougher) football on the school quad, or off in town trying to line up a `date' for that night, or at the convenience store, loading up on sugary junk with money his Mom had sent the previous week. Sometimes, and only sometimes, Derek thought, would you find Jake in his room studying. And that was why he was always getting C's on his report cards instead of the A's and B's that Derek received.

That evening, the swim finals began with a stunning announcement -- one that shocked both Jake and Derek. Dr. Witherspoon had submitted his resignation that very afternoon, citing `personal reasons' for his sudden departure. There were rumors that his ill family member in New England had taken a sudden turn for the worse, and he was needed there to lend assistance. Others claimed he'd been fired for something or other, but was allowed to resign in lieu of firing to preserve his good name. In any case, the school administration was once again in turmoil, but this all seemed like bureaucratic bumbling to the hundreds of boys at Hardwood -- they all knew that come Monday morning, another school day would begin, with homework due, mid-term exams to take, and reports to complete. But Jake, Derek, David, and even Bryce, all wondered if some "other" circumstance had caused the sudden departure of the old man.

David's diving that evening was spectacular, though Derek, watching from the bleachers on deck, could not decide whether David's stunning twists and turns and splash-free entries were more mesmerizing, or was it the way the diver's tiny, wet Speedo clung to his male form? David scored well enough to qualify for the state championships, so he was thrilled, though his high score was certainly not unexpected. What was unexpected was the fact that Hardwood's swimmers captured the meet title, narrowly defeating Middleton 189-187. Controversy erupted in the final event of the meet -- the 400 yard freestyle relay -- when Middleton's `A' team -- their best sprinters -- were disqualified when the boy swimming the third leg was charged with a false start for leaving the blocks before the swimmer in the water touched the wall. The Middleton coach raised a howl of protest, insinuating the meet officials were biased in Hardwood's favor. It was Middleton's first loss in nearly four years, and the camaraderie which had ruled the pool all day was suddenly replaced with a chill, as accusations and insinuations flew back and forth. Middleton's polo team promised their swim brothers that the Hardwood squad would `pay' for the dirty deal the swimmers had received.

Saturday night, Derek and Jake headed back to their room after the meet and a healthy dinner. The polo game was scheduled for ten the following morning, and the boys wanted a good night's sleep. But the excitement had both boys wired, especially Jake, who paced and prowled their room like a caged animal. His anxiety was contagious, for Derek, too, was jumpy, fidgety, eager for the next day's game. Jake surprised Derek by playfully grabbing him in a headlock, sparring and wrestling with him, just full of piss and vinegar, like so many teenaged boys. Derek gave as well as he got, jabbing and play-boxing with his bigger roommate, until the room grew quite warm, and both boys had stripped to their underwear -- Jake in some plaid boxers, Derek in a pair of light gray Fruit of the Loom boxer briefs. Their wrestling became more fervent, each boy testing the strength and power and intensity of the other. The trash talk grew quiet, as the breathing grew heavier.

This wasn't the first time the boys had wrestled in their room -- far from it. They would frequently go at it -- muscle against muscle, grip against grip -- testing each other as only young males in their prime can. Derek always loved these little bouts -- he knew he would lose to the stronger, bulkier jock, but he didn't mind a bit. Just the feeling of Jake wrapping his big arms around him, or Jake's strong thighs squeezing him into submission, always got Derek pumped, and yes, a little aroused. And tonight was no exception. As they ground their bodies against one another, sweating and straining for dominance, Derek again felt himself growing hard in his briefs. But what shocked him was the sight of Jake also growing hard -- something Derek had never observed in previous matches, though he certainly had been looking, and hoping. Jake's boxers were obviously tented in front, desperately holding back something big and pointy. And then it happened -- a surreptitious tug on Jake's boxers by Derek made the fly slip into a position allowing the beast to slip free. All of a sudden, Jake's large, engorged cock was jutting obscenely through his fly, swaying menacingly to and fro as if in the hunt for prey of its own.

Derek couldn't help but stare open-mouthed at his friend's naked shaft. Jake, now cognizant of his near-nudity, seemed suddenly embarrassed, and quickly called a time-out as he gingerly tried to stuff his swollen manhood back through the gaping fly. Looking somewhat sheepish, Jake finally whispered to Derek, "Let's call it a draw tonight, dude. I think we should really save some energy for tomorrow's game." Derek reluctantly nodded in agreement, though he had been secretly hoping things might escalate. But realizing the wisdom of Jake's words -- and knowing the game in the morning would be tough -- Derek finally smiled at Jake, saying something about concluding the match the following night. Both boys made a final visit to the john, then hit the sack, though sleep was a long time coming for both of them.

The game the following day was indeed a tough one. The Middleton team was composed of many juniors and seniors, while Hardwood's squad consisted of a fairly even sprinkling of boys from all four grades. Trying to make good on their promise to their swimming friends of making the Hardwood squad "pay" for the previous night's swim loss, Middleton's bigger guys went on a rough offensive, pushing and jabbing at Derek's mates, with a large amount of suit-grabbing, underwater kicking, and other mean tactics. As had happened before, Derek discovered his large `package' made an instant target for his nefarious foe, who tried to land several kicks between Derek's legs. By sheer skill, and a little luck, Derek had fended off these attacks through some quick turns and twists. But the bruises appearing on his upper thighs were taking a toll, as his legs became sore and tender. Jake himself was dealing with a brutal player of his own -- a player who had literally grabbed the bulging front of Jake's small suit and given it a hard squeeze, causing the jock to gasp in pain. But Jake had quickly recovered, and a few moments later when the two had faced each other again, Jake, remembering Brett's advice, had grabbed a handful of his foe's manhood, and squeezing hard, sneered at the guy, saying, "Yours may be lots smaller than mine, but it'll do in a pinch (and here Jake pinched the youth's scrotum painfully) -- I'll see you in the showers after the game!" For the rest of the match, Jake had no more problems from his opponent.

Derek, on the other hand, was not so fortunate. As the final period began, with the score tied 4-4, Derek's guard slipped for just a moment, and seizing the opportunity, his Middleton adversary landed a glancing kick to Derek's groin, causing Derek to almost double-over in pain as he feebly grasped at his injured manhood. With a nasty smirk and a smug "got ya", the kicker started to swim away, only to have a whistle blown loudly at him. It seems one of the refs, who had noticed Derek's bruised thighs during the rest period, had deduced what was up, and had been keeping a careful eye on Derek's opponent. Seeing Derek suddenly grasping between his legs, seeing the smirk, and overhearing the `got ya' remark, the ref ordered the player -- one of Middleton's stars -- to be benched for the remainder of the game. Middleton's coach raised a protest, claiming any kick was `accidental', and just part of the game. But the ref stood his ground, even asking Derek to hop out onto the deck to show the other refs his bruises. Derek obliged, but felt somewhat uneasy having the three grown men closely examining his upper thighs, and, or so it seemed to Derek, the large mound between them. But the refs all agreed with the call, and after a few moments to compose himself, Derek rejoined the game, which his team went on to win 5-4.

After the game, the Hardwood team was treated to a lunch in town, then returned to campus for some studying and relaxation. Bryce, who had taken several dozen pictures of the match, was invited along, and the boys enjoyed looking at themselves `in action' on Bryce's digital camera. The upcoming week was the last week before spring break, so there was a definite feeling of tension -- over upcoming mid-terms -- and excitement -- over the upcoming break -- in the air. Derek and Jake had planned a surprise for break -- each was going to claim to be spending the week at the other's, but in reality, they were planning to catch a bus ride south, and somehow make their way to Panama City Beach. They had already booked a room on the "emergency" credit card Jake's dad had given him -- they would worry about explaining the charge later. Back in their room that night, the boys were wrapping up their studying, when Jake said, "Derek, you took a pretty hard kick to the nuts this morning. Is everything, you know, OK down there? Shouldn't you have had a medical exam?"

"Well, with Dr. Witherspoon gone, and no replacement named, I don't have anyone to ask. And besides, the pain is gone, and I've been pissing OK -- no blood or anything -- so I guess I'm OK," Derek responded. Jake nodded, and finished straightening up his books and papers, then stated he was ready for bed. "Me, too," said Derek. Both boys made a final visit down the hall, and Derek once again vowed his urine was clear. Returning to the room, Derek stripped to his `tighty-whitey' briefs, and Jake stripped to a pair of black boxer-briefs. After saying goodnight, lights were switched off and the room grew quiet.

Jake couldn't sleep. The day's excitement kept him tossing and turning until the bedside clock read 1 a.m.. Derek also seemed agitated, though he finally fell into a deep slumber after kicking the sheet and blanket off. Jake got up and pulled back the curtain so he could look into the courtyard below. Warm light from the full moon flooded the room, and Jake could see Derek lying on his bed nearby, sleeping peacefully in his snug briefs. Jake quietly crept over to Derek's bed, and stood above his friend. "Derek is so handsome," he thought to himself -- then immediately scolded himself for having such a thought. Derek was sleeping on his back, his left leg stretched out straight, his right bent at the knee, his right foot resting against his left calf. Glancing at that large foot, Jake had to smile. "Guess it's true what they say -- a guy with big feet often has other big body parts," he mused to himself. Moving his eyes upward, they came to rest on his roommate's midsection. He could see Derek's lengthy shaft -- now flaccid -- outlined under the thin material of the cotton briefs, as it snaked toward his right hip. Below, he could see the outline of Derek's hefty sack where it rested between his thighs. "Oh, his thighs," Jake thought. Even in the dim light, Jake could make out a couple of the darker bruises still visible from the game. "I hope his thighs don't hurt too much." Then, absentmindedly, Jake reached down with his right hand and tenderly brushed his fingertips along his sleeping friend's inner right thigh, caressing a nasty bruise he saw there. It made Jake angry that the Middleton brute had hurt Derek, and he wanted to take Derek's pain away. Gently, softly, he rubbed the battered thigh, hoping to caress the bruises away. Noticing more dark spots on the left thigh, he also brushed there -- softly, quietly.

Derek had no idea how he'd gotten there. He remembered a castle on a hill. An old, stone castle like the ones you see in pictures from England. He had been fighting a war of some kind, trying to capture the castle -- he remembered the name, Middleton Castle. And now he was a prisoner, chained to the wall in a dungeon -- helpless, and naked. Who was this? Someone was coming -- it was the prince of the castle, and he was so handsome, so young. He came toward the chained victim, carrying a lantern, which he set nearby. Derek's legs were so sore -- the fighting, running -- and the prince suddenly reached down and began to stroke his aching thighs, caressing them with kindness. Why was he doing this, being so gentle? They were enemies! Yet, the prince was soft in his touch, warmly rubbing and soothing the chained boy's upper legs. It felt so good, and not surprisingly, so intimate. Soon, despite himself, Derek felt his shaft begin to harden. "No!" his mind screamed -- "don't let the enemy know how aroused I am becoming! How good his strokes feel!" But it was no use -- with his arms chained above him, he could not resist, and the handsome prince, who looked so familiar, continued to touch him as his cock rose upward, lengthening and stretching.

As Jake continued to softly rub Derek's bruised thighs, he became aware of movement in the boy's briefs. What was happening -- was Derek awakening? No, his eyes were still closed, his breathing regular, restful. But what was this movement again? Oh, Derek's dick had awakened, and seemed to be growing, hardening. "Is Derek becoming aroused?" wondered Jake. Yes, that had to be it. As Jake watched, intrigued, he saw Derek's shaft grow longer, the outline in the briefs more pronounced as it stiffened. Soon, the long male member had stretched to full length, reaching to Derek's hip, poking firmly against the thin cotton now straining to hold it back. Almost uncontrollably, Jake moved his hand upward, now letting his fingertips touch -- for the first time -- another male's sex organ. As he had done to the thighs, he now did to the cock -- gently rubbing and caressing.

The prince was aware of the effect he had on his prisoner, and took advantage of that. He stood next to the naked youth with the outstretched shaft, and began to run his fingers along the veined tube of manflesh, stroking it, fondling it. The prisoner felt so shamed, so humiliated, at the torment his captor was giving him, but it felt so good...

Jake asked himself what he was doing, why he was touching Derek so intimately, so sexually. He couldn't answer his own question -- all he knew was that he NEEDED to feel Derek's manhood. He ached to fondle and caress his buddy's stiff dick, just to see what would happen. He became a little bolder, rubbing a little harder, a little more forcefully, stroking, touching, arousing...

Derek knew he couldn't resist, it was hopeless to try. Looking into the prince's eyes, he expected to see a smirk of triumph, the prince gloating over the power he held over his prisoner, but instead, he saw only kindness, even adoration. The stroking continued, and the naked boy felt himself growing warm, excited, harder. Looking downward, he now saw and felt the prince touching his sensitive glans, and he saw a drop of fluid leak from his cocktip, where it clung precariously for a few seconds until it began to drip off on a long, sticky thread...

The moisture surprised Jake -- "why are my fingertips feeling wet?" -- he wondered, until he looked again, and saw a large wet spot forming on Derek's briefs where his flared head pulsed against the material of his small briefs. His fingers were dabbing the spot, wetting themselves as if of their own volition. "Derek is getting so turned on, his dick is starting to leak," Jake thought to himself. "Maybe I should stop -- before I go too far?" he wondered, as his fingers continued to fondle his buddy's throbbing hard-on.

"You like this, don't you?" whispered the prince into Derek's ear, as the torment continued unabated. Derek wanted to say no, wanted to demand the prince release him, set him free, stop tormenting his pulsing erection. But he couldn't say anything, and instead, found himself nodding in agreement as the prince continued to tease him, asking, "Do you like this? Do you enjoy me touching you this way?" A torrent of fluid was now drizzling from his rock-hard cock, and the prince was smearing the love syrup along Derek's exposed, nude shaft, making it slippery and warm, and making it easier for the prince to increase his rate of torment, his fingers and hand now slipping effortlessly along the wet shaft, up and down, faster and faster...

Derek was leaking like crazy, Jake noticed, as his fingers continuously swiped across the wet head, smearing the goo along the long, hard shaft, soaking the fabric covering the dick, making it nearly see-through. Jake heard Derek's breathing become more ragged as his arousal grew in intensity. His body began to gently writhe beneath Jake's stroking hand as it sought relief from the impending climax. Jake thought of daring to pull the briefs down, exposing his teammate's genitals to the cool air, but realized such action might easily awaken the boy -- something Jake dared not do. Besides, the bright moonlight continued to illuminate the room, allowing Jake to see Derek's pink shaft and bulbous, purple head easily through the dampened cotton. Burning with desire, Jake now concentrated his torments along the vein of Derek's seminal duct, where it rose hard along the undershaft. Using his fingertip, Jake began to feverishly work along the spot he suspected -- correctly -- was Derek's `g-spot' -- the most sensitive place on his dick.

The prince had found his weak spot, and was working it frantically, scraping his long fingernail directly on the place Derek himself favored when it was time to reach orgasm. As the prince brought the naked prisoner toward climax, he leaned closer, closer to Derek, his pink lips now brushing Derek's open mouth. Derek groaned aloud as he came, his cock gushing his seed in torrents, spraying the prince with white-hot cum...

The groan startled Jake as it escaped Derek's lips, just as Derek's dick made a final futile thrust against the sopping cotton that imprisoned it, then began shooting great gobs of sperm, soaking his briefs and his hip. Wave after wave of convulsions swept through the quivering dick as Jake continued eagerly rubbing it, forcing it to pump out load after load of spunk. Jake had been hypnotized by the sight of the shooting, erupting dick, but the groan had snapped him back to reality, making him realize the precariousness of his position. Quickly gathering his wits, he withdrew his hand from Derek's crotch, and started to step back away from Derek's bed.

The prince's face began to fade as a darkness swept over his eyes, until the soft light of the moon brought things back into focus. As the prince's face retreated, it became Jake's face, withdrawing into the shadows. "Jake, my prince," muttered Derek, weakly raising a hand to reach out for the retreating figure. Hearing his name called, Jake stopped in his tracks, afraid to move, suddenly ashamed of what he'd done, fearing Derek now knew the truth. Regaining his composure, Jake stepped back into the moonlight next to Derek's bed, and reached a hand to shake Derek's shoulder.

"Wake up, Derek, wake up -- you're having a bad dream. Wake up, it's OK," Jake said. `I heard you crying out, and came over to make sure you were OK. Wake up now, everything is OK." Derek grasped the extended hand and pulled it to his cheek, then felt the dampness.

"Jake, your fingers are wet, and, and, they smell like..." With his other hand, Derek reached down, touching his soaked briefs, and realized instantly what had happened. "You, you did this to me. You did this while I was sleeping." Derek said, speaking softly, confidently.

Jake tried to pull his hand away, but Derek held firm. Jake knew he was caught, and knew trying to deny it would only make things worse. Kneeling next to the bed, Jake spoke quietly, his voice cracking. "Derek, I...well, yes, I did it. I got up to look out the window and saw you lying here in your underwear, so peacefully, so innocently. I saw your bruises...on your thighs...I ...I started to touch them, trying to sooth them, wanting to make them feel better." Swallowing hard, he continued. "I started rubbing your thighs, then, well, other places. The next thing I knew, you were rock-hard. And then, and then, well you started leaking ... out of your dick, I mean...that fluid that your dick leaks before you come. That lubricant stuff that's supposed to slicken the pussy, make it ready to receive a hard dick. It was leaking out of you like crazy, and I ...well, um, I...started to rub it on your hard shaft...through your underwear. I couldn't control myself...I'm so sorry Derek...I just couldn't stop myself from touching you. And then, you just started shooting like crazy, ejaculating uncontrollably. Please don't hate me Derek, I'm sorry, man, I won't ever try this again. I'll stay away from you, I won't even talk to you if you don't want me to...," Jake said, his voice trailing off.

Derek, still holding Jake's hand, pressing it to his cheek, looked into Jake's brown eyes and said, "Jake, it wasn't a bad dream. It was the most wonderful dream I ever had. A prince -- who looked just like you -- had me chained naked in his castle dungeon. He started touching me, stroking me, caressing my cock so gently, making me hard under his power. It felt so good, so sensual, so natural. He stroked me off, Jake -- YOU stroked me off, making me cum with so much power and intensity. I woke up, and my prince was you. Don't you see, Jake? It's a sign. I dreamed you, and you came to me. I dreamed you touched me, and you did. I dreamed you made me cum, and you did. Don't you see, Jake? Everything is perfect. I love you."

Those three small words -- Derek had said them aloud. He hadn't meant to, would not have dreamed of saying them to Jake. And yet...they were out, floating through the air, dancing through the moonbeams as if they were particles of dust you sometimes see swirling in the air when a ray of sunlight shines into a dusty room. Oh, how Derek wanted to snatch them back -- reel them in like a fish on a hook. Stop them from reaching Jake's ears, from penetrating his thoughts. But sound travels far too fast, especially when the listener is kneeling only two feet away. Derek's heart skipped a beat -- then two, then three -- or so it seemed. Derek squeezed his eyes shut, afraid to see Jake's reaction -- the anger and pain he feared would be there.

There was movement -- Derek opened his eyes and saw Jake rising, a smile on his face. Then he heard a small chuckle as Jake walked back toward his bed. "You love me? Derek, you are too funny -- man, you crack me up!" Jake said, as he climbed into his own bed. More laughter from Jake's side of the room, as the big jock settled under the covers. "You love me? Well, hey, big guy. I love you too!"

But something wasn't right. "Did Jake think the whole thing was a joke of some kind? Were those three words -- I love you -- so easily tossed aside? Didn't Jake realize I am serious? Didn't he realize the feelings I have for him are real?" Such thoughts tormented Derek as he cleaned himself as best he could, then tried to fall back asleep. But sleep was elusive, as his mind silently screamed, `Why did I say that? Why? WHY?'