This is a fictional story dealing with love and consensual sexual
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by Jeff Allen
After Deuce went back to California I spent the next month packing up things in the house. I got the things Deuce wanted packaged and arranged for shipping to California. All of the things I wanted got moved into a rented storage space. Things we planned to sell in the estate sale were arranged around the house, and lots and lots of useless papers and junk went into the trash. I talked with Deuce once or twice a week on the phone to keep him informed about things with the house and to just chat. Sometimes we'd spend an hour or more on the phone talking. Neither one of us ever mentioned the night we slept together, but that night was sure on my mind a lot.
The estate sale was scheduled for the first weekend in July. Dad's lawyer suggested that I get out of town during the sale because it might be painful for me to see my parents things being pawed over by strangers and then sold to the highest bidder. I decided it was time to go up to Carterville and find a place to live.
I met with the people who were going to be running the estate sale, gave them they keys to the house, and climbed into my parents' eight-year-old Volvo wagon for the drive up to Carterville.
After the June heat and humidity in Atlanta, climbing into the cool verdant mountains of northern Georgia and western North Carolina brought welcome relief. I turned off the struggling air conditioner in the Volvo, rolled down the windows, and enjoyed the sweet smell of the mountains.
I got a room at one of the chain motels on the town's main drag and started hunting for an apartment.
The local paper wasn't much help. There weren't a lot of apartments listed for rent in the want ads, and the ones I did find really didn't strike me as places I'd want to live when I checked on them. By dinner time I'd decided to look for a house to rent instead of an apartment. I had plenty of furniture from my parents' place to put into a house, and I could save money by not paying rent on the storage room in Atlanta.
I asked the desk clerk at the motel for the name of a reasonable restaurant for dinner. He suggested a couple of places. I opted for Miguel's which advertised "authentic" Mexican food.
As I was drinking my beer, munching chips and salsa, and marking the newspaper for possible rental houses, two absolutely drop dead gorgeous guys walked in and were shown to a table. One looked to be a little older than me, probably in his mid twenties, about my height of 5' 11", maybe 180 pounds or so with dark brown hair and eyes. He was dressed in a business suit. The other guy was younger, late teens or early twenties with blond hair, light blue or green eyes, and casually dressed in shorts, sneakers, and a tee shirt. He was about the same height as the older guy but probably weighed less. They obviously knew each other very well judging from their body language, but there didn't seem to be a family resemblance. My gaydar was pinging big time.
I tried to watch them without being too obvious as my food came and they ordered theirs. They didn't display any mannerisms that screamed 'gay', but there was just something in their interaction that kept my gaydar active. At one point the younger guy looked up and caught me looking at them. I quickly turned my eyes down to my food. When I glanced back up, the dark haired guy was looking over my way. Then he leaned over and whispered something into his friend's ear. Ping. Ping. Ping. The gaydar was going off again. I figured I had them 'made' and they probably had me pegged as well. I had to remember my resolve not to get romantically involved, but my mouth watered and my cock twitched with the thought of sex with either one of them.
Back in my room that night the two guys in the restaurant had top billing in my jerk off fantasy.
The next day my search for a house to rent didn't go any better than the search for an apartment the day before. By noontime I was sitting in the local golden arches ready to give up and was beginning to wonder if I'd be living out of my Volvo wagon. It was roomy, but not that roomy. Then it hit me. I had a good bit of money from my inheritance; even after paying estate taxes, I could afford to buy a house.
I saw a real estate office just down the street so after polishing off my nutritious meal of quarter pounder with cheese, fries, and coke, I took the plunge. I explained to the agent, a nice middle aged woman with horrible breath, that I was going to be a teacher at the local high school starting in August, that I had a sizeable inheritance, and that I wanted to look at some houses with the caveat that I had to be able to move in before school started in mid August.
To her credit, Eleanor the real estate lady, didn't laugh me right out of her office. She asked a few questions about my financial situation, and as I related some of what dad's attorney had told me about the size of the estate, she became more and more enthusiastic about me as a potential buyer. We spent the first part of the afternoon looking through the multiple listing book and marking a couple of houses to visit later that afternoon or the next morning. Toward the back of the book I spotted a listing for a small farm. Sixty acres, partially renovated house, barn, orchard, and a swimming pool.
Eleanor explained that the farm was in foreclosure, and she thought the owners would be very anxious to sell as they were already living elsewhere. Since the listing was with Eleanor's firm she had the key. We headed out to take a look.
The place was about a mile outside of town. The turn into the driveway was located on a sharp curve in the road. The drive then went up a small rise so the house wasn't visible from the road. The drive leveled out at the top of the rise with a wood lot on the left and the orchard on the right. The drive continued to make a loop in front of the farmhouse and the detached garage. A barn was visible behind and to the right of the garage but mostly hidden by a row of large lilac bushes that curved from the right side of the garage part way around the top of the driveway loop. The farm house was one of those early twentieth century T-shaped structures with a one story kitchen and dining room wing meeting the two story cross part of the T. Big porches extended across both the front and back sides of the kitchen wing of the house. About twenty feet behind the house was an inground pool surrounded by an extensive wood deck. A small pool house/work shed was located at the back of the pool. The view from the back of the house and pool was out to another wooded area. I couldn't see any other houses.
Inside, the large farm kitchen was located in the middle of the one story section of the house. A new laundry room that included a small bathroom with a shower had been added at the end. The other side of the kitchen opened into the dining room which adjoined the two story part of the house. There was a parlor room at the front with another equal sized room at the back. The hallway and stairs to the second floor were in between the two rooms. Doors from the front porch entered the parlor and the dining room.
The two bedrooms on the upper floor were almost equal in size and separated by the stairs, a small hallway, and a large bathroom which had doors opening into the hallway and into both of the bedrooms. The bathroom was one of the rooms that had been renovated. It had a tiled shower large enough for three people plus a whirlpool bathtub and two sinks.
The other renovations in the house included a new tin roof on the house, new vinyl siding, extra insulation blown into the walls, and new windows. The walls had been redone in most of the rooms, but not painted yet. I figured I could learn how to paint.
I told Eleanor I was definitely interested in the house. She suggested that I go to the bank in town to explain my financial situation and see if they would make a "bridge" loan that would allow me to buy the house and then pay back the loan when dad's house in Atlanta was sold.
Back at the motel, I called dad's attorney and explained what I wanted to do. He thought it would be a good investment (and would save some taxes) for me to buy the farm. He promised to FAX a letter certifying my financial condition for the bank.
I called Deuce that evening to get his advice. He was also in favor of my buying the property. I was pretty sure before I talked with my brother that I wanted the farm, but his enthusiasm for the purchase really settled the question in my mind.
The next morning I was at the bank as soon as it opened. It was a branch of the same megabank I'd used in Atlanta and at Adams State. Dad's accounts were also in that bank so I was hopeful it might be easier for the bank to check out my finances.
I told the receptionist that I wanted to talk with someone about a mortgage. She smiled warmly and said, "You need to talk with Mr. Hatcher. Just go into his office and have a seat. I'll tell him that you're here."
She ushered me in to the office and disappeared in search of Mr. Hatcher who I assumed would be some middle aged banker type. Imagine my surprise when the dark haired hunk from the restaurant walked in and extended his hand.
"Good morning, I'm Andy Hatcher. Nancy said you wanted to talk about a mortgage."
I shook his hand but was so taken aback that I wasn't able to speak for a second. Finally I stammered, "Ah...I'm Parker Arnold. I think I saw you at Miguel's two nights ago. Ah...you and a friend were across the room from me."
He smiled showing beautiful white teeth. "Of course. I remember now. C.Z. pointed you out to me. Miguel's isn't a place that gets a lot of tourists, and he said he hadn't seen you in there before."
"Yes. His full name is Carter Zebulon Johnstone, but he's been known as C.Z. all his life. I'm his guardian. C.Z.'s mother died in June."
So the young blond hunk was Hatcher's ward. That might explain their body posture, but my gaydar was usually pretty accurate. I still thought there was some sort of relationship, a lot closer than guardian and ward, between them.
Hatcher spoke again. "You wanted to talk about a loan?"
That brought me out of my mental wanderings and back to the present. Hatcher took his chair behind the desk. I took my cue and sat in the chair opposite him and explained the situation.
I walked out of the bank an hour later, went to Eleanor's real estate office, and put down an offer on the farm several thousand dollars below the asking price figuring that would leave some room for negotiation. The offer was accepted later the same afternoon. As Eleanor had predicted, the owners were quite anxious to avoid foreclosure. They even agreed to allow me to move into the house immediately and pay them rent until the loans went through and we could close on the property.
I headed back to Atlanta that evening to arrange for the move.
The estate sale at my parents' house had been a success. Almost everything I didn't want to keep had sold; plus one couple who had come for the estate sale had liked the house so much they had inquired about buying it. I asked dad's attorney to contact the potential buyers. When the attorney called back with the offer, I was amazed. The attorney said he thought it was a good offer. I called Deuce, and he agreed.
I spent the next two weeks packing for the move and waiting for the movers. At night I hit the bars in Atlanta and scored each time. Since I was leaving town, I brought a couple of the guys back to the house for more extended sex sessions. One of them actually spent the night, but I was anxious to get rid of him in the morning.
I was having lots of sex, but truth be known I wasn't having much fun.
By the first of August, I was getting settled into the soon-to-be-mine farm in Carterville, and I spent a lot of my free time exploring the farm. I hadn't looked in the barn when I'd first seen the place. I was surprised to find an old tractor, riding lawn mower, and a 1970's model GMC 4x4 pickup. I asked my temporary landlords about the machines and was told that they came with the property. They had no use for a riding mower where they were moving, and the old tractor and truck had been in the barn when they'd bought the place. The mower started right away. The tractor took a little coaxing, but it eventually started in a cloud of smoke. The truck, however, would need some work and more mechanical ability than I possessed before it could be operational.
When I was comfortable with the farm I decided it was time to turn my attention to writing lesson plans for the fall and figuring out how to coach a soccer team. I got the name of last year's coach from Eileen Bergman and gave him a call. We arranged to meet for lunch.
His name was Joe May. He had one of the independent insurance agencies in town. He was a good looking man in his early forties. Dark hair, going gray, brown eyes, about 5' 10" and a little over weight at 195 or so. He had agreed to coach the soccer team because his son, Paul, was one of the players. Paul had graduated in June and was heading off to college so Joe wasn't interested in coaching again. I asked him if he would be willing to be the assistant coach through the fall season to help the boys with the transition and give me some help in identifying their strengths and weaknesses as players. He agreed. He wasn't overly enthusiastic, but he agreed.
My next step was to talk with the football coach and athletic director of the school about some of my ideas. The high school had undergone a major expansion a couple of years previous to my arrival. One of the additions was a new gym with locker rooms for the gym classes and sports teams. That left the old gym which was used occasionally for phys ed classes and the old locker rooms which were used mostly for storage. I told the A.D. that I wanted to use the old locker room for the soccer team. When I explained my reasons and my plans for the team, he agreed on the condition that the team and I would be responsible for cleaning.
The first day of school for the students was on the twelfth of August that year. For some reason Southern school systems start way before Labor Day. I know that systems, like Carter County, in the mountains have to provide for some days missed due to snow, but it seems that even school districts in areas that only have snow once every couple of years start their year around that time.
I asked the school office to include notice of an after school meeting for everyone interested in soccer in the morning announcements. Joe May and I waited anxiously in the new soccer team locker room for the players to arrive. Only twenty guys showed up that first day. Most of them had been on the team the previous year, and Joe told me their names as they came in the room.
I waited for a full five minutes after the announced time to let the stragglers get settled in, and then I started, "Men, I'm Mr. Arnold, your new coach. I'm also a new teacher here at Carter County High. Last year at this time, I was sitting out with my team mates listening to my college coach talk about the season. I've never coached a team before. I've always been one of the players, but that doesn't mean I don't know what's needed to make a team work together. Most of you know Mr. May who was your coach last year. He has agreed to stay on as assistant coach for the fall season, but you need to know right off the top that there will be some changes in the way the team operates this year. Mr. May and I have discussed those changes, and he agrees with them. The most important thing for us this year is to come together as a team. Winning matches would be nice, but my focus this year, and every year, will be on being a team.
"The first change is that we now have our own locker room. This is it. Since we're the only ones using this space, we're the ones who will be keeping it clean. I'll put a list of jobs up on the bulletin board outside of the coach's office along with a sign up sheet. Everyone of you will sign up to do one job for one week out of each month. If you're the one signed up, and the job isn't done, you'll hear from me about it.
"The second change is a new physical training program. Soccer is a game of talent, determination, teamwork, and physical fitness. If our team is in better physical shape than our opponents, we'll have the advantage right from the start. Tired players make mistakes. Fit players score goals against tired players. Every school day from now on, I plan to be here at six in the morning for an hour-long run. If you want to get in shape, then join me here for those runs. Bring your breakfast with you or buy it in the cafeteria after the run. Now, I can't require you to come and run in the morning, but I can guarantee you'll be a better soccer player if you're in shape. It's your choice. Is that understood?
"Third change is in academics. You will report every grade in every subject to me. I want all of you to be as good in the classroom as you will be on the soccer field. If any one of you is having trouble in a class then one of your teammates is going to help you after practice in the afternoon. Is that understood?
"Fourth change is that we're all going to ride to and from the soccer matches in the team bus. No one is going to be riding with their parents, driving themselves, or riding with friends to or from those matches. The time before a match and just after a match are team times. Is that understood?"
I paused. None of the boys had a question, but most had a look on their face that said, "Who the hell is this guy?"
"You should all have had a physical exam over the summer as required by the school. If you didn't then you need to make arrangements to get checked ASAP. No doctor's release on file. No soccer.
"Okay, men, I'll be here at six tomorrow. Practice will be in the afternoon half an hour after last bell. Be ready to play some soccer, but more important be ready to become a soccer team."
I wasn't sure what to expect the next morning when I pulled the old Volvo into the school parking lot at 5:45. There were fifteen guys waiting for me at the locker room. I thought that was pretty good. I'd figured to lose almost half of the prospective team with my little speech from the previous afternoon.
We dressed out in running clothes and hit the track. We only ran for forty-five minutes that first morning. There were a few of the guys who could have kept going, but most of the boys were out of shape and puffing at the three-quarters of an hour mark. I led the way back to the locker room and gave each of the kids a pat on the back and an encouraging word as they entered to take their showers. With the last player in the locker room, I went into the coach's office, stripped out of my sweaty running clothes, wrapped a towel around my waist, grabbed my soap and shaving gear, and headed for the group showers.
The old coach's office, now my office, had a private shower, but part of my plan to build a team included doing everything with the boys. Besides, I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to check out all those naked guys. Mind you, the guys were a little young to arouse that much sexual interest on my part, but the scenery was still interesting.
The typical shower room chatter stopped dead as soon as I entered. I put down my gear, hung up my towel on one of the hooks, and selected a shower. The conversations gradually resumed as I first shampooed my hair and then began soaping up my body. I made a point of making only eye contact with the guys and forced myself not to look at their dicks and asses. I caught several of them checking me out. I didn't read too much into that. I know I've got a good body. After all, I turned heads every time I walked into a gay bar. And I know that even straight guys quietly do equipment checks in the shower.
I rinsed off the soap, and grabbed my shaving stuff. I've always shaved in the shower so the day before I'd fixed an old mirror to one of the walls in the shower room. I lathered up and began shaving. Some of the guys on the team had finished their showers by that time and were drying off and getting dressed, but the ones who were still in the shower room with me seemed fascinated by my shaving. Finally Karl Henson, a dark headed senior with a dynamite body, got up enough nerve to comment.
"Do you always shave in the shower, Coach?"
"Yeah, always have. I think I get a closer shave; plus I don't have to clean up any mess in the sink afterwards. Try it sometime."
He smiled a shy smile and cast his eyes downward. "Yeah, I think I will. Thanks, Coach."
The next two weeks went amazingly fast. I signed the paperwork on my farm. Using my share of the sale of mom and dad's house in Atlanta plus cashing in some of the stocks in my inheritance, I was able to purchase the whole thing free and clear. The soccer team practiced hard. We met every morning to run and practiced every afternoon. More of the guys on the team started showing up for the morning runs. The number was then up to about twenty to twenty-five each day for the run. There were only twenty-eight guys on the entire team. We had our first league match. It was an away match so I drove the guys in the activity bus to and from the match, and we just squeeked out a win by one goal. There were a lot of happy guys on the bus ride home and a lot of typical teenage horseplay in the showers afterwards. Speaking of the showers, I continued to shave in the shower each morning. Some of the team began to shave in the shower with me. Karl Henson was the first one. The day after our conversation about shaving, I found him standing wet and naked next to me as we tried to use the mirror at the same time. The next day one of the other upper classmen joined us. By the end of the first two weeks about half of the team . . . all those who needed to shave and some who really didn't need to yet were vying for the mirror. Of course I enjoyed the close contact with the naked young bodies, but one mirror was just not enough. The Saturday after our first match Karl Henson and I met in the locker room and used the power drill I'd purchased the day before to mount full length mirrors between each of the shower heads. That provided plenty of places for guys to shave and had the advantages of making the shower room seem larger and creating the ability to be more subtle about checking out guys in other parts of the room by using the series of mirrors. Believe me, I became an expert at using the mirror angles.
That Monday morning when we all hit the showers after our conditioning run, the guys went nuts over the new mirrors. I had the feeling that I wouldn't be the only one using the mirrors to check out the other naked guys.
Later when we were all eating breakfast in the section of the cafeteria that had quickly become known as the Soccer Section, Karl Henson sat down next to me with his tray.
"Coach, can I ask you something?"
"Sure, Karl, what is it?"
"Well, I've got this neighbor kid. He's a freshman here, and I'd like to get him involved with the team."
"Sure. Just bring him along to practice. He's welcome as far as I'm concerned."
"Thanks, Coach. I think this kid really needs the team."
Suddenly little alarm bells started going off in my head. "What do you mean by that, Karl?"
"Well, he's had kind of a rough time."
"Do I know this kid?"
"Yeah, it's TJ Ladd. He's in your freshman government class."
I did know TJ. He was a quiet kid who sat in the back of the class. He had over the collar length medium brown hair with hazel eyes. It was hard to say much else about him because he never talked much in class and he always wore baggy shorts or jeans with an equally baggy shirt. I had noticed that he never seemed to smile. "Yeah. I know him. What do you mean by having a rough time?"
"Well TJ's mom died about three years ago so he came here to live with his dad and stepmom. His dad's Dr. Ladd, the dentist. Anyway, TJ and his stepmom don't really get along too well, and now his dad's got cancer. TJ's been pretty torn up about it. He's always been kind of quiet, but now he hardly talks to anyone. I think he needs to get involved with the team. Take his mind off his dad's cancer and his stepmom's bitchiness." Karl suddenly realized what he'd said and started to blush.
"It's okay, Karl. I've heard that word before. If TJ's so withdrawn, what makes you think he'll come out for the team?"
"He'll do it for me, Coach. We're friends . . . well, actually he's more like a little brother. I'll just tell him he's doing it. Besides that, he likes you."
"Okay, Karl. Bring him to practice, but I want him to be on the team because he wants to be there not because you want him there. Do you understand?"
"Yeah, I do. Thanks, Coach. I'll bring him around in the morning."
Karl was there the next morning with TJ. The poor kid struggled to keep up with the team when we ran. He just wasn't in shape. Karl held back and urged him on with encouraging words. I noticed that a couple of the other guys dropped back with them. It made me very proud of them for doing that.
I got a good look at TJ without his normal baggy clothes in the shower that morning. He was tall for his age, almost six feet already. His body hadn't yet filled out to match his height, but he showed promise of being a being a really well-built kid when that happened. Unlike the rest of his muscles, his dick had already filled out. The darn thing must have been four or five inches long in the flaccid state. He was cut, and his dick was nestled on top of a pair of hen's egg size balls and surrounded by a thick patch of pubic hair that was about three shades darker than the medium brown hair on his head. I thought, 'This kid's going to be a real heart throb in a couple of years.'
TJ stuck close to Karl in the locker room and later during breakfast. He tried to stick with him during practice in the afternoon as well, but Joe May and I set up some drills and separated them. I wanted to see what the kid could do on his own, and I was pleased. Granted, he wasn't in shape like the rest of the guys, but he handled the ball well and seemed to have a natural sense of where to go and what to do. He had the makings of a darn good player.
TJ seemed a little more outgoing in the showers after practice. At least I saw him talking with someone other than Karl.
Over in the corner of the shower room, I heard a voice cut through the background noise created by over a score of teenagers.
"Look! Whitaker's got a boner! What's with the wood, Whitaker? You queer or something?"
Ryan O'Herron, a sophomore, was pointing and laughing at Bobby Whitaker, a freshman. Bobby was now turned to face the wall and trying to cover his erection with his hands. I could tell from across the room that he was blushing deeply.
Naked and dripping wet I strode into the center of the shower room. "Okay, men, turn off the showers and sit down! We're having a team meeting right now!"
There were some initial protests, but one look at my angry face, and the showers were turned off. Twenty-six, wet, naked teenagers sat down on the floor.
"Men, this locker room and shower are 'safe zones'. That means whatever happens in here, whatever's said in here stays in here. One of the things that's going to happen in here is a spontaneous erection. Now, Bobby's was the first one in here, but it won't be the last. Males your age generally have several spontaneous erections a day. It's almost like your penis has a mind of its own. It picks the most awkward moments to remind you that you're a male. Ignore it, and it will go away after a while. Think about it, and it will seem to stay around forever. If this is a 'safe zone' then you don't have to worry if you suddenly sprout wood in here. It's natural. No one should laugh at you because they might be next.
"Bobby, come on over here."
Reluctantly Whitaker stood. He was still trying to cover his softening erection with his hands.
"It's okay, Bobby. Come here."
He came to me in the center of the shower room. I pulled him into a shoulder to shoulder embrace with one arm and forcing our sides and hips into contact. His dick immediately started to harden again. I felt the heat from his body as he blushed again.
"Ryan, I want you to come over here too."
He shuffled over to me with his head down. I pulled him against my shoulder on the other side. Both Ryan and Bobby were trying to cover themselves.
"Drop your hands to your sides, guys."
They complied exposing themselves to the rest of the team. O'Herron's dick started to rise. I waited until Ryan's prick was almost at full mast and his face was beet red before speaking again. "Okay, now both Bobby and Ryan have spontaneous erections. My guess is that most of the rest of you do too. I want all of you to stand up. Hands to your sides."
They stood, and almost every dick in the room was in some stage of tumescence including that of my assistant coach, Joe May. Fortunately, mine stayed soft.
"Okay, men, look around the room." They looked. "Now you've seen 'em all. I don't want to hear anyone getting razzed for srouting wood in here again. Let's finish our showers."
I pulled Ryan and Bobby in a little closer. "Thanks, guys. I know that was embarrassing, but you just helped us learn more about being a team."
To his credit, Ryan stuck his hand out to Bobby.
"I'm sorry, Bobby. It was mean of me to make fun of you."
Bobby shook Ryans's hand and smiled. "It's okay, Ryan. We're teammates."
I quickly rinsed off and headed into my office to dry off and dress. Joe May met me in the office a couple of minutes later.
"You are one gutsy sonofabitch."
"What do you mean?"
He smiled. "You know darn well what I mean. That little speech in there took guts. I sure would never have had the balls to do it, and you pulled it off." He patted me on the shoulder as he headed out the door. "You just got my vote for amateur psychologist of the year."
I sat in the office watching the team members as they got dressed and left for the day. Karl and TJ left together. Karl had one hand affectionately laid on TJ's shoulder steering him to the door. As he passed by he looked up at me, grinned, and gave me a thumbs up sign. A minute or so later Ryan O'Herron walked by smiled and waved.
Ryan was followed by Bobby Whitaker who stopped in the open door of the office.
"No problem, Bobby."
He turned to leave.
"Don't ever let anyone tease you about your penis. You've got a nice one there."
He turned even redder than he had been in the shower, but he smiled from ear to ear at the same time. "Thanks, Coach!"
My little speech in the shower room did seem to have a positive effect on the team. A lot of them stood a little closer to each other in the shower or while they were shaving than they had before. They seemed to be more open to giving each other a pat on the back or butt for encouragement or to hanging an arm around a teammate's shoulder even in the shower.
Score one for me.
(To be continued)