Date: Thu, 16 Sep 2004 14:24:23 EDT
From: ArtHill579@aol.com
Subject: "Carried Away" Part 9

Disclaimer: This story is basically a fantasy involving humiliation, mild
violence, and sexual activity between young men. If you find such material
offensive or in violation of the laws of your state/country, please don't
read any further.

(c) Art M. Hill ArtHill579@aol.com All rights reserved (2004).
If you enjoy this story, please email me.

***********************************************

I had decided to check out Bob's room and was drawn to his clothes closet.
His combat boots had turned me on, and before I knew it I was rubbing them over
my face and even sticking me nose inside to smell the odor. Luckily I pulled
my nose out and was just holding them when Bob appeared at the door.

I almost hit the ceiling in shock when I heard him say: "Davey! What the hell
are you doing in my room?"

I had to think fast. "I, ah, thought I would surprise you and give your boots
a good polishing. You really look great in your uniform . . ."

For a moment he continued to frown, but then his face broke into a smile. "
Davey that's real nice of you. I appreciate it. You know on the base we always
have to keep our boots spit shined or we get hell. But I can do that. Jeez, I'm
used to it. I don't want my kid brother bothering to do those kind of things
for me."

"It's okay, Bob," I said with considerable relief. "I really like having
you home. It's the least I can do." Bob smiled again and for some reason I felt
closer to him than I had in a long time.

"Davey, I gotta apologize. I know we haven't been as close as we should for
the last few years. I guess I just got wrapped up in myself and didn't want to
let anyone else in. How `bout we do something together before I go back. Kind
of get to know each other again."

I felt so happy at that moment. My brother was asking me to get closer! It
made me feel a bit ashamed about the boots. Regardless, I repeated that I wanted
to clean them for him, although now with the added reason of really wanting
to do something for him because we were brothers.

***********************************************

That evening I went over to see Allen. I couldn't keep my happiness to
myself. I told him that Bob really seemed to have changed and that he finally seemed
to be interested in getting closer. "You know," I said, "I think I kinda
misjudged Bob. I can understand that he was having problems in college. I guess
everybody does."

"Yeah, I guess that's true. By the way, how is Chris doing?" Allen asked. "
>From what I can see he doesn't seem to be very interested in class. All he
seems to want to do is play football. I know he's a great player, but that's not
gonna get you a degree."

I kind of tensed when Allen mentioned Chris. I guess he did because he knew I
picked him up every day for school. I tried to play it cool.

"Um, he told me that he was hoping to get a football scholarship. You know
that athletes get special treatment when it comes to grades."

"Not any more, Dave," Allen said. "Most colleges have got a whole new set of
rules, and they treat athletes no different from any other student. I think it
's a good idea. Why should someone get a free ride just because he's a jock?
Usually what they do when they see that athletes aren't doing well they
assign them tutors to help them in the subjects they're failing."

Hmmmmm, I thought to myself: Maybe that's the answer. Maybe if I offered to
tutor Chris he wouldn't be trying to cause me so much trouble. On the other
hand, I might just be making things worse. But on the other hand I would have an
excuse to see that hunk more often . . . Guess where that idea came from?
Yeah, down in my pants! Just the place I shouldn't be listening to!

Allen must have read my mind. "Hey, why don't you tutor him, Dave. Your
grades are really good." Yeah, this was the same Allen that told me to stop for
Chris on the road that day when he was hitchhiking. That had sure turned out
well!

"I'll see, Allen," I said in a noncommittal way. I'd have to think about it
very carefully. End of conversation.

Well, my visit to Allen didn't turn out the way I thought it would. I felt
worse after talking to him rather than better. Maybe that's why on my way home I
stopped at the all-night drug store and bought a black shoe polish kit with
paste and a buffer. I was gonna give myself a little treat by polishing Bob's
boots, and maybe use some white 'polish' along with the black!

When I got back home my heart was pounding. I went into my room and locked
the door. Bob's boots were on the floor next to my bed. I lay back on the bed
and set the boots on my chest with the toes touching my chin. I imagined Bob
standing on me looking down at me sternly, reprimanding me for some infraction of
military rules, and ordering me to clean his boots. You would have thought I
would have had enough of that kind of stuff, what with licking Chuck's and
Larry's muddy athletic shoes and almost choking on them. But no, my cock said I
needed more. In fact, it was already standing straight up from the pressure and
smell of the boots.

I put the treads on my face, stuck out my tongue and licked. I could feel my
cock start to jump around. Next I put them on either side of my hard cock and
ran it up and down between the smooth black leather, smearing precum along the
way. That was all it took. `Thar' he blows!' Holy shit, what an orgasm! My
back arched up until I thought it would break. It seemed like all the energy in
my body was empting out through my cock slit. Four-five-six powerful spurts
left me exhausted and covered with cum. When I came back down to earth I saw
that Bob's boots were also covered in jizz. As I picked them up and gingerly
dropped them on the floor I felt the dampness inside. I rolled over in bed on my
own mess and looked inside the boots. It looked like globs and globs of cum
had landed inside the boots. I had some work to do or Bob's socks would end up
glued to his boots for good (slight exaggeration, but you get the idea!)

Even though I was ready to fall asleep after that huge explosion, I figured I
needed to take care of the boots as soon as possible. If that jizz dried I
didn't know how easy it would be to get off, especially on the insides. And if
Bob suspected . . . that would be the end of our new found friendship and maybe
of my life!

A took an old undershirt and started wiping the cum from inside first one
boot and then the other. It wasn't easy. Then I got the idea of using a small
sponge, slightly moistened, and that did the trick. The cum had dripped down into
the toes of the boots and that was the hardest part to get out. I figured
that any remaining smell from inside would be masked by the shoe polish--that is,
after I got the jizz off the outsides of the boots!

I decided to leave the actual polishing of the boots until tomorrow. I only
had one class (English Lit) so I could come right back and finish the boots and
have them back in Bob's closet at a reasonable hour. Or so I thought . . .

I cleaned the mess off myself. I was too tired to take a shower so I just
washed off the crusting cum, put on some fresh briefs, and fell into bed. I was
out like a light the moment my head hit the pillow.

******************************************

TGIF . . . that's always a great feeling. Of course, I always had a sinking
feeling when first period was English. That was my time to see Nick. Although I
was really attracted to him, he was completely unpredictable, and now that
other students had seen Nick's performance (his ballet on my head!) I was
getting less turned on and more embarrassed. I didn't want it getting around that I
was a foot freak--even if I was!

To my surprise Nick was very subdued during class. He took his usual seat
directly behind me, but said nothing and didn't even put his feet up on the back
of the chair. Actually I was slightly disappointed. Am I screwed up or what?

After class I headed for my locker to get the books I needed for the weekend.
Lots of other students were doing the same thing including Nick who still
remained strangely silent. When I started to open my locker I had the feeling
that several students (all on the football team) were watching me intently. When
the locker door swung open a big pile of smelly football shoes, each pair tied
with the shoestrings came tumbling down from the top shelf, bounced off my
head and fell to the floor. The noise was enough to attract the attention of
everyone in the hall. There was an outburst of laughter as students gathered
around to see what had happened. I must have been quite a sight. I even had one
pair of sneakers that was hanging around my neck, swinging back and forth.

Nick approached me with a mock look of shock on his face. "Hey, Stanton," he
said, loud enough to be heard half way down the hall, "what's the big idea?!
I been lookin' for my shoes since yesterday. So have the other guys.
Everybody has been wonderin' if someone was playing a trick on us or what. I'll tell
you it ain't funny. You really pissed off a lot of guys on the team."

"Yeah!" said Chris, who appeared out of nowhere. "You ain't funny, Stanton.
We got our first game comin' up next week. We don't need this kind of shit
right about now." Turning to some of the other guys, including Chuck and Larry,
he said, "Hey dudes, I think we need to teach this clown a lesson, don't you?
"

With that, several of them pounced on me. I screamed, which only made them
start laughing hysterically. They lifted me up and carried my to the showers in
the gym. Somebody turned on the cold water, and before I knew it I was pushed
under the icy spray. I screamed again.

"Shut up!" said Chris. "Take it like a man."

Just then coach came in, hearing the rumpus, and yelled: "What the hell is
going on in here?!" Then he saw me drenched and shivering under the shower. "
Okay, assholes, you think you're so funny, now get out of here and give me five
laps around the track. And if I see you doing something like this again, you'
re gonna be real sorry. Some of you jerks may find yourselves in the bleachers
rather than on the field when we start playing."

I was very grateful when coach turned off the shower and told me to get out. "
Un, Stanton, isn't it? What happened?

"Oh, some of the guys thought I hid their football shoes and wanted to teach
me a lesson."

"Did you?" coach asked.

"No, I didn't. Somebody must have put them in my locker. I don't have any
idea who it was." I lied. I was practically sure I knew exactly who did it.

"Okay," coach shrugged. "But you let me know if any of my guys bother you
again, and I'll make sure they're off the team. Nobody in this school is gonna
get bullied when I'm in charge. Here's a couple of towels. Take your time and
dry off."

I didn't want to take too much time since I didn't want to face the guys
when they came back in. When I left my clothes were still soaked and my shoes
squished as I was walking. I went back to my locker: the shoes were gone. I
quickly picked up my books and left. I had kept one of the towels to spread over
the seat of the car so that it didn't get wet. Meanwhile I was thinking to
myself: What next??

As I was walking through the parking lot toward me car, I saw Nick circling
around on his Honda. It looked like he hadn't been on the field. Maybe he had
given coach some excuse for not taking his punishment . . . He was looking real
hot with his black leather motorcycle jacket and mirrored sun glasses. I
couldn't help but stare at him. Smiling he stopped in front of me and gunned the
engine.

"Hey man," Nick said, "you're not pissed at us for that little joke are ya?"

"Nick," I said, "it wasn't a little joke. You guys embarrassed me in front
of half the school and then shoved me in the shower. Look at my clothes," I
snapped, "they're still dripping wet."

"That's your trouble, Stanton," Nick grinned, "you got to loosen up a bit.
You're way too serious. Tell ya what. How about if take you for a little ride
on the bike. I know you've been lookin' at it. Besides," he argued, "the
wind will dry out your clothes real fast. Then you won't have to worry about
messing up your car."

I was quickly weakening. Nick's argument about the clothes made sense. Even
more, I would get to sit behind that sexy stud and feel his body heat. I was
just worried that I might spring a boner and piss him off.

"Okay, Nick," I said, "I've never been on a motorcycle before and I'd like
to try it. It's gotta be quick though `cause I need to get home early. (I
still needed to polish Bob's boots and get them back in the closet!)

"I wanna show you I'm really a nice guy," Nick said disarmingly. "I'll have
you back in no time. Here, put on this helmet and hold on to me."

I melted. I put my feet up and Nick was balancing us as he prepared to take
off. He gunned the motor again and we flew through the parking lot and out the
gate of the college. The wind was wonderful. So was the view--and I don't just
mean the sights of the road! I could see the wide expanse of Nick's back
tightly outlined in black leather. I saw the shaggy ends of his blond hair curling
out from under his helmet. I felt my cock start to stir.

Nick turned his head slightly around and yelled: "Like it, huh?"

My answer was carried away by the wind, but I'm sure he got the message. Try
as I might, my cock kept expanding and I'm sure he must have felt it through
his Levis. Now we were on an open expanse of road leading out of town. I began
to wonder where Nick was going. I told him I needed to get back soon. I guess
he just wanted to give me the full tour.

Just as I was about to tap Nick on the shoulder and signal to him that we
should be starting back, he pulled off the road into the parking lot of a
dingy-looking bar. I saw several other motorcycles parked in the gravel lot. I
immediately started to feel nervous as he cut the motor and climbed off the cycle.
He took off his helmet and gloves and stared at me through his mirrored glasses.

"Nick," I said, "what are we doing here? I told you I had to get home early."

"Don't sweat it, Stanton. I'm real dry and I need a brewsky. C'mon and join
me, I'm buyin'. Hey, we're only gonna stay for a couple of minutes and then
you can go home to mommy."

I felt like I was trapped and wasn't happy at all. But it was miles back to
town. I thought about hitchhiking and then laughed to myself . . . maybe some
other perv would pick ME up! It looked like I would just have to follow Nick's
lead and hope he didn't get plastered. Then the ride back might not be so
pleasant as the ride out.

Nick led the way. He pushed through the door and stepped into the bar's dark
interior. Even though it was only mid-afternoon there were quite a few
customers cued up to the bar or sprawled at the tables. Several were shooting pool at
a table on the other side of the room. Everything looked hazy because of the
clouds of cigarette smoke drifting through the room. Country music was
blasting from a jukebox.

As my eyes got accustomed to the gloom I saw that most of the customers were
bikers and looked like a pretty rough bunch. I felt totally out of place here,
although Nick stepped casually up to the bar, pulled out his smokes and
ordered two beer.

"Ah, Nick," I said timidly, "should you be doing this when you're in
practice? You got your first game next week, don't you?"

"Fuck that," Nick said, "coach will never know . . . unless you tell him,
that is. Besides, one or two beers never hurt me before, I work out five days a
week, wanna feel?"

He had taken off his jacket and displayed his bulging guns, very obvious
through his straining tee shirt. "Go on, feel it" he said harshly, "I know you'
ve been dying to do it since you first saw me."

I recoiled as Nick resumed his arrogant manner and heard some scattered
laughter as some of the bikers looked in our direction. "Guess Moran has found
himself a bitch," I heard one guy say. "I wonder if he's willing to share her."

(To be continued)