To the Mat -- 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.
Luke was absolutely stunned, and though he opened his mouth to speak, no words were forthcoming. Had he heard Mark correctly? Had his wrestling coach just told him he was "in love" with him? Luke looked into Mark's eyes, waiting for a punch line, a chuckle, a guffaw -- something that would indicate Coach was joshing him, poking fun at him. He looked for a twinkle in the eye, the beginning of a grin -- but he saw only two things. Total adoration, and a kindness that Luke would not have believed was possible from the tough, sometimes gruff coach who had been his mentor for three previous years. Luke swallowed hard, finally finding his voice, though it was rather raspy and breathless. "Um, Coach, I um...did I hear you say, well, that, um...I mean, I thought you said that...well, I must've heard wrong." Smiling and shaking his head in disbelief, he continued. "Did you just say you were in love with me?"
Mark suddenly felt like a total fool -- a middle-aged man, a professional coach, a successful and admired member of the coaching brotherhood -- confessing his love to a student athlete some fifteen years his junior. A young man whom he had seen numerous times hand-in-hand, even in the arms of, various young women on campus. A young man obviously straight, obviously into women, and obviously shocked -- perhaps even frightened, maybe sickened, at the sudden realization that this `older guy', his coach, no less, was into him. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Mark slowly released Luke's hand and stepped away from the strong jock. "I think I've made a mistake, Luke. What I meant to say, well, I mean, what I'm trying to say... ." But it was no use. Mark couldn't come up with anything that would make sense, put the kid at ease. He hung his head, feeling stupid, alone, and bitterly angry with himself.
"Gee, I've said stuff like that -- `I love you' -- tons of times, Coach, trying to get into a girl's pants. Hell, you gotta say stuff like that to girls. You know how they are, all into that gooey, mushy stuff," said Luke. "But you don't need to say that to me -- I love it when we mess around, and you're always welcome to do stuff to me, Coach -- you can get into my pants, my briefs, my jock, my singlet -- hell, I'm yours for free -- I'm here, just take me!" he said breathlessly, his eyes shining.
Mark had to smile, despite the dread he still felt over what he'd just said. He realized that, in Luke's world, what they were doing was just a couple guys `messin' around', it didn't mean anything special or serious. Oh, to be young again, Mark thought to himself sadly. But he felt he had to explain, had to clarify things. "Luke, I don't think you quite understand the depth of the feelings I have for you. You see, for so many years, I've kept my personal desires in check -- my longing, needing, to have a relationship with someone. Since I was a teenager, I knew I was more interested in other guys. Yeah, I liked girls -- they're fun, and silly, and sweet, and all that. But I knew even then that another male was what I wanted in my life -- a partner, a male partner, to love and cherish. As a wrestler through college, then as an assistant coach, then coach, I forced myself into a state of denial, refusing to let myself pursue a relationship with another man. Then, well, you came to Holden -- I can still remember your recruiting trip, how excited you were, how full of life and energy and wonder you were." Luke grinned a little, sharing those memories from a few years back. "Anyway," Mark continued, "when you began coming to me for those special `massages', I realized how much I needed someone, someone like you -- a man so tough yet gentle, still full of wonder and curiosity, eager to explore new things. Over these past three years, Luke, I have fallen in love with you, and I've literally ached for you during those long droughts between your visits to my office and the prep room. The few fleeting moments I get to spend with you are so beautiful, so intimate. Oh Luke, I wish I could make you understand what you mean to me."
Luke had sat in silence, listening intently as Mark poured out his heart. Finally, he spoke. "I remember that recruiting trip, Coach, I remember it well. You were so warm and open, so friendly. I felt an immediate attachment to you -- and to Holden, and the guys on the team then -- and I knew right away this was the team for me. Since I started here, you have been so much more than a coach. And, well, yeah, I've come to you quite a few times for, well, I guess for things most other wrestlers don't go to their coach for," he said, blushing a little. Now looking directly into Mark's eyes, Luke said, "I guess I'm just not sure about this `love thing'. I've never really thought about love between two guys, at least, not THAT kind of love -- the romantic kind. Gee, Coach, I'm sort of freaked out I guess. I mean, well, I like you so much for so many reasons, but I guess it never occurred to me that you might be in love -- not with me, anyway."
Mark felt horrible, believing he had turned Luke's world upside down, thrown the young man completely overboard without a life jacket. He was even more afraid when Luke suddenly hopped off the table, pulled his clothes on, and, shaking his head, muttered under his breath, `He loves me. Coach Weber is in love with me. Love. LOVE! Wow.' Then Luke hurried out the door, still muttering to himself, not looking back. Mark was alone, shaken, sickened, and dreadfully fearful of the ramifications of those few brief words he'd spoken while holding the hand of the man he loved.
About 8:30 that evening, Mark was on his third strong drink, staring blindly at the television set that wasn't even turned on. His hand shaking so hard it rattled the ice cubes, he put the glass to his lips and took another big swig. A knock at the door startled him. Fearing the worst, he cautiously opened it -- to find Luke standing on his porch, a thin sheen of perspiration on his face. Other than for a couple team cook-outs, Luke had never been to Mark's house. "Hi, Coach," the athlete said matter-of-factly. "Um, can I come in for a minute?" Mark stepped back and allowed him inside.
"I've been thinking about what you told me today, and I realized something." Luke was speaking calmly, firmly, without hesitation. "I have special feelings for you, too -- I, well, I don't know if it's love. Maybe it is. Maybe it's more of a crush or something. All I know is that when I need someone -- when I'm sad, or alone, or hurt -- I somehow end up with you. I come to you, Coach, because I feel safe and secure and, well, I guess even loved. I need that in my life, and I don't want to lose that." Up until this point, Luke had been standing with his hands clasped together in front of him. Now, he suddenly reached out, almost shyly, and stood, arms outstretched. On instinct, Mark grasped the wrestler's hands in his own. For a moment, they stood, perhaps two feet apart, looking into each other's eyes. Then Luke stepped forward and hesitantly leaned close to Mark, then pressed his lips lightly against Mark's. The kiss was brief, and very gentle, and it was the greatest gift Mark had ever received.
Back on campus, Cody and Bryan were still in Bryan's room, surfing the net or just hanging out. As he had earlier, Bryan again expressed genuine concern about Cody's possible injury. Though his piss had been clear, Bryan asked him if just maybe he should check for blood elsewhere. "What do you mean by elsewhere?" Cody asked innocently.
"Well, you know, Cody, like in your semen. If you did have a testicular injury, you might see some blood there. Then you'd know you needed to get things checked over," Bryan said straightforwardly.
"And just how do you propose I check that? All my semen is down in my balls -- how am I going to get it out to check it?" Cody asked, a big grin on his face.
But Bryan was being serious, and he let Cody know that in no uncertain terms. "I'm being serious, Cody. I'm not fooling around. I think you should check yourself, just to make sure everything is OK down there, make sure things are working properly, and that nothing is seriously wrong. Please, Cody -- what if you start finding blood and it's too late -- something was injured that can't be fixed?"
Cody realized that Bryan had a point. He also realized his freshman friend was genuinely concerned, which made him think he, too, might want to be a little more cautious about his personal health. "OK, dude, OK, I'll examine my stuff. Will that satisfy you?" Then, his grin returning, he continued, saying, "Guess I'll just have to stroke a load out, drain my big boy, and see that he's performing in his usual peak condition!" Bryan rolled his eyes, but was nevertheless grateful that his friend was now taking the situation more seriously. But a smile quickly spread across Bryan's face when Cody asked him point-blank -- "You wanna help me with this job?"
Within moments, Cody was relaxing on Bryan's bed, his arms raised, hands under his head. Clad only in his boxer-briefs, Cody felt himself becoming aroused as Bryan teasingly began to grab the waistband and slowly tug the underwear down. "Lift up your hips, dude. I can't get these past your fat ass with you just lying there -- you gotta help!" Bryan said enthusiastically. Chuckling, Cody arched his back enough for the briefs to slip down to his thighs. "Damn, this thing is already hard," Bryan said, poking at Cody's dick, which remained tucked inside the front of his underwear. "I have to get these briefs over this," Bryan said, as he struggled to pull the waistband out enough to pry the hard shaft beneath out of its cotton prison and out into the open. "There, that's better," Bryan said, finally freeing the turgid, throbbing shaft of dickmeat Cody had popping up from his groin. "Now, I can get to work."
Softly, almost lovingly, Bryan fingered the tall, quivering shaft before him. Bryan's hands were shaking slightly as he lovingly caressed the long, rigid penis. For Bryan, this was a first -- he'd never touched another guy's `junk' before. But he remembered how good it felt when Cody had masturbated him that time Cody had slept over following Edward's tragedy, and he was now determined to return that favor to his teammate. Rubbing his fingers softly along the veiny stalk, tracing his fingertips around Cody's circumcision scar, then lightly squeezing the silky, spongy head, Bryan was enamored with what Cody offered between his legs. Like a blind man who explores an object by touch, Bryan continued to fondle and stroke the aroused shaft. Slipping his hands lower, he clutched Cody's large scrotum, jostling the heavy testes within, amazed by their size and weight -- a good bit larger and heavier than his own. For several moments, Bryan seemed lost in a daze, staring at and examining every inch of Cody's sex organ much like a scientist would carefully document some new species of creature never before seen by man. Cody rested on the bed, hands still clasped under his head, eyes closed, a big smile on his face, enjoying the eager yet gentle touch of his younger friend.
Suddenly regaining his senses, Bryan coughed slightly, a little embarrassed with himself for losing focus on the task at hand. "I, um, guess we need to get started," he said, shaking his head a little, trying to bring his attention back to the medical matter at hand. "Cody, do you want to stroke yourself? I mean, if you want me to, I guess I could do that for you, I mean, I'd like to do that for you, if you wanted me to," he stammered.
Cody grinned ear-to-ear. "Dude, I guess I'd better let the trained professional -- you -- examine me. I get the, uh, feeling, that maybe you'd like to play doctor with me tonight. Think I'll call you my `Dick-Doc'."
Bryan grinned, then went to work, talking quietly as he began to focus his attention on Cody's healthy maleness. Once again, he began to lightly trace his fingers up and down the rock-hard cock, feeling its texture and firmness. Bryan noticed that each time his fingertips brushed along Cody's undershaft, just below the cockhead, Cody would gasp audibly, his body bucking slightly. During masturbation, Bryan had found this spot on his own penis to be super-sensitive, so he assumed it was the same for Cody. Gently using the fingernail on his index finger, Bryan began to teasingly scratch that spot on Cody, asking him, "Does this feel good, Cody? Do you like when I do this?" Cody could not reply -- with his head lolling back on the pillow, his eyes closed, he could only gasp for air, and whisper small sounds of pleasure. Though eager to make certain Cody's `parts' were all in working order, Bryan now found himself enthralled at what was happening. Here was Cody, on his bed, naked, and completely aroused, as Bryan gently touched and teased his hard, aching sex organ. Afraid he was rushing things, Bryan decided to slow down, and take his time. Releasing the rigid shaft, he turned his attention to Cody's fertile seed pods, encased within his pink and wrinkled nutsac, coated with a sparse scattering of small hairs.
"Damn, Cody, your sac is heavy -- lots heavier than mine. And your nuts are bigger -- fuller than mine." Bryan gently hefted his teammate's scrotum, feeling the testicles tumbling and writhing within. He squeezed the left nut, then the right -- but gently, asking Cody if the pain from the wicked blow he'd received was still noticeable in his testicles. Cody shook his head no, finally whispering something like, "they're OK, Bry, they feel good." Upon receiving this assurance, Bryan allowed the weighty sac to drop back down, where is snuggled between Cody's muscular upper thighs. On instinct, Bryan lightly tickled the soft skin along those thighs, bringing muffled giggles and moans from the college junior. He gently scraped along Cody's inguinal ligament area, then moved up to his lower abs. Finally, he rubbed the impressive six-pack the junior stud had, commenting on his friend's impressive and muscular physique. Then, Bryan again wrapped his fingers around Cody's long shaft, feeling the rod pulsing with life-giving energy. "Fuck, Cody, you're dick is so big, so hard, dude," Bryan said admiringly. A gentle squeeze, and Cody's piss lips parted, emitting a small drop of clear pre-cum, which drizzled across the purple head. Amazed at this turn of events, Bryan lovingly swirled his thumb across that head, sweeping the clear but sticky fluid across Cody's large glans. Still admiring the older boy's impressive tool, Bryan whispered excitedly, "Dude, your dick is so hard -- and long. It's bigger than mine, that's for sure. And it's bigger around, too, dude. You've got me in two categories -- length and girth. But Cody, how come yours is so big?" Playfully, Bryan again rubbed that sensitive spot, causing a new, and larger drop of sexual lubricant to emerge from Cody's enflamed shaft.
The innocent question Bryan asked raced straight from Cody's brain to his dick, making it stiffen and twitch even more. "How come it's so big' - a question every dude would like to be asked by an admirer. Cody had to smile as he replied proudly, "I don't know, Bry, guess the fucker just grew that way!" Cody was now becoming delirious with lust and desire. Bryan's hand and fingers felt so good -- so damned hot -- on his cock, he could hardly control himself. It was like that night in the hotel room with his former teammate Doug -- the way Doug had virtually raped him of his sperm -- touching and licking and sucking him in a frenzy of heated passion until he had ejaculated uncontrollably. And yet, this was also different -- slower, more gentle, more loving. The way Bryan would gently finger his dick, rubbing it softly -- lengthwise, tracing the veins, caressing around the flared corona, tickling his frenulum - that spot on the underside of his shaft that drove him wild, fondling his nutsac, running his fingers through his pubic hair -- it was sensual, yet innocent in a way. It was like Bryan was exploring him, soothing him, coming to know him through the sense of feel. And for Cody, it felt absolutely wonderful. Cody knew his cock was leaking pre-cum like crazy -- he could feel his dick pulse as it emitted his sexual lubricant, and he could feel Bryan's hand growing warmer and wetter as it spread the sticky love syrup onto his throbbing shaft.
"Damn, Cody," said Bryan, "I never knew a dick could leak so much fluid -- you are just soaking yourself down there -- it just keeps coming out of your cock -- like a river or something." Cody had to smile at Bryan's comments, but he said nothing. He couldn't speak -- it was hard enough just to catch his breath. Bryan began speaking again, repeating his admiration of Cody's manhood. , "Gee, Cody, your dick is so big, lots bigger than mine." Reaching down and cupping the junior's hefty scrotum, Bryan said, "And your sac -- it's bigger than mine, and your nuts are bigger -- and heavier." Bryan grazed his nails tenderly along the flesh of Cody's sac, tickling the boy's pouch, driving Cody wild with a need he could no longer control.
"Please, Bry, please. I can't take it anymore -- I'm gonna blow my wad any second. You are driving me CRAZY with this -- the way you are touching me, teasing me. I can't hold it much longer, dude, I'm gonna shoot, man, I'm gonna SHOOT! Please, please, Bry, milk it out of me -- let me get my rocks off NOW!" Cody was nearly choking out the words as he tried to breath and speak at the same time. Bryan, realizing his friend was at the limit of his endurance, knew the time had come to complete what he had started.
As Cody's hard shaft emitted a steady flow of dick drool, Bryan again dipped his fingers in the milky sex sauce and, wetting his hand thoroughly, began to rapidly jack his fellow wrestler's cock, forcing more and more pre-cum to bubble out of the slit. Poor Cody was nearly beside himself, his head tossing left and right on the pillow, grunts of lust and primal satisfaction hissing from his lips. "Oh, oh fuck, oh, oh..." Cody groaned, as he finally reached climax, his penis erupting like a volcano, shooting sperm up and out, spraying Bryan's hand and arm, and gushing across his own chest and abs. Bryan counted nine healthy cum shots, and the chlorine smell of fresh semen clung in the air. Catching his breath, Cody weakly asked, "So, Doc, how does it look down there?"
"It's beautiful -- the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," said Bryan dreamily, as he lazily continued to hold and tenderly fondle Cody's still-hard organ.
"I meant my semen, DOCTOR," Cody said with a grin. "Weren't you supposed to be checking my ejaculate for signs of blood or something?"
"Oh, OH, um, yes, yes, of course," Bryan stuttered, finally coming to his senses, remembering the ruse, or, uh, the reason he had used to milk the sexy stud in the first place. "Um, let me see here." Scooping gobs of the warm, pudding-like substance onto his fingers from where it had landed on his arm, Bryan held them up to the light and peered closely at his treasure. "Good news, Cody, everything looks fine. Your semen is sort of a whitish-yellow color, and I don't see any specks of red or brown at all." Using different fingers, he scooped another sample from where it had speckled Cody's abs, and again gave the all-clear. "But just to make sure, Cody, well, maybe you should perform one more check. Have you ever tasted your own sperm?" Cody, looking suddenly a little sheepish, admitted that he had sampled it once or twice. Bryan suddenly thrust his dripping, cum-coated fingers toward Cody's face, then ordered the jock to "Taste it -- make sure it tastes the same." Obligingly, Cody opened his mouth and began to suck his seed from his friend's outstretched digits. After thoroughly cleaning Bryan's fingers of every drop of semen his probing tongue could locate, he nodded his head approvingly, and assured Bryan that all was normal. As if suddenly overcome with bashfulness, Bryan looked into Cody's eyes, then said quietly, "I, um, well, I just wanted to make sure you were OK down there, Cody. That was all, I, I guess I was just worried about you."
Cody smiled broadly, appreciating his friend's genuine concern, as well as the `examination' his friend had just administered. "I know one thing, Bryan -- I sure would go to the doctor a lot more often if he was half as cute as you, and treated me the way you treat me!" Bryan smiled, then burst out laughing. Leaning over the still-reclining Cody, he playfully collapsed on top of his `older' lover, wriggled into his arms, then began to softly kiss Cody's chest and neck, and finally, his lips.
* * * * *
The loss the team had suffered at the hands of Tech had not discouraged the boys. They knew they had a solid group of proven performers, and were prepared to take on all challengers. Their next meet was the following weekend, against a small rival school from Ohio. Holden dominated the meet, winning 34 to 8. Unlike the Tech meet, this one was typical of wrestling meets across the collegiate landscape -- two groups of well-trained athletes who truly cared about and respected their sport and each other. There was no surliness or threatening expressions exchanged, and at the conclusion of the afternoon's meet, the young men exchanged warm and friendly handshakes and slaps on the back. Before starting the three-hour bus ride back to Ohio, the visiting team wanted to have dinner at a restaurant near Holden, and the two teams traveled together to the family-owned facility along the highway east of Holden College, and shared several large tables, mingling comfortably and exchanging stories of college life and wrestling at their respective institutions. Second farewells were said as the visiting team boarded their bus for the long ride home, although this time, handshakes and back slaps were often replaced with hugs and arms around shoulders.
The air was growing cool and crisp as autumnal weather began to take hold, but a late Indian Summer brought a lengthy spell of warm, sunny weather to the Michiana region. The timing was perfect, since the Holden wrestling team had been given the use of a beautiful lakeside vacation home in southern Michigan that was owned by a team alumnus who was now a successful Chicago businessman. Each autumn, the guys would spend a long weekend at the `cabin', which was really a large, 4-bedroom home on several lakefront acres, set among some wooded groves. The older boys had use of the beds, the younger ones were forced to use the sofa, sleeping bags, or just mats and blankets on the floor. No girlfriends were allowed -- it was strictly an all-male affair. Nor was a coach or assistant coach invited -- it was a team-only weekend for bonding.
Few of the freshmen or sophs owned cars, so the guys piled into the larger cars or SUVs owned by the upperclassmen, and headed north, bringing food and snacks, and plenty of beer and liquor for the weekend.
Upon arrival, the younger guys were put to work unloading the vehicles, stowing gear, and cleaning and straightening up while the older boys supervised, and did as little work as they could get away with. The juniors and seniors relished the opportunity to have the younger `slaves' performing the manual labor while bringing them beers, or glasses and ice for something stronger. Eager to please, and to build a strong bond with the older guys, most of the freshmen worked and served good-naturedly. Only freshman Josh Rettig voiced any displeasure at his subservient status, questioning why he and the others had to be at the beck and call of the older guys. Realizing one disobedient boy could lead to a mutiny and upset the status quo, seniors Mark Jamison and B-Man Bryan Bingham pounced on the whiny upstart, held him down, and stripped him completely nude. Grabbing some duct tape, they quickly taped his left hand behind him, leaving only his right hand available for him to shield his privates from the gazes of the other males at the house. And with the constant fetching and carrying he was now forced to perform at threat of further punishment, poor Josh had no way to cover himself anyway -- his one good hand was always carrying trays, glasses, bottles of beer, or anything else demanded or required. Josh, who was normally a rather quiet and shy boy -- he always changed in the locker room in a distant corner by himself -- was horrified to be put on such public display, and have his teammates furtively (and sometimes blatantly) eyeing his male genitalia. But there was simply nothing he could do, and no way to cover himself except to try and turn away from the views of his curious teammates, though turning sideways to avoid one man's stare usually just exposed him to glances from those on the other side of the room. For nearly two hours, Josh endured his humiliation, and even the vicious teasing that accompanied his unexpected, yet dreaded erection that sort of `popped up' at one point, as so often happens to young men in their sexual prime. Taunts of "which one of us is getting you excited, Josh?" and "oooh, what you gonna do with that little popsicle stick?" only fueled the fires of shame and embarrassment for the poor youth. Finally, taking mercy on a kid he truly had come to like in the weeks since school started, junior Joey Mangini tossed him the pair of Fruit of the Loom white briefs they'd stripped from him earlier, and all had a good laugh as he valiantly and ultimately successfully struggled to put them on with only one hand. Josh had learned the value of obedience, as had the other new members of the Holden wrestling team.
It was dark when the cabin was finally deemed to be `ship-shape' by the older wrestlers. A grill was lit, and the boys cooked a meal of burgers, hot dogs, and roasted corn. Wanting to get an early start on Saturday's activities, the team turned in around 10 p.m., though not without the usually kidding and teasing so often heard among young males. "I don't want my sleping bag anywhere near Jeremy's -- he's a perv who will molest me when I'm asleep." "I won't share a room with Mark -- he farts too much" "Fuck you, asswipe -- you don't deserve the honor of smelling my farts!" "Hey Carter," Joey called over to his teammate, Carter Jacks -- "Do you really do it a lot?" "Do what, Joey?" Carter asked innocently. "Jack off, Mr. Jacks!" yelled Joey and B-Man simultaneously. The laughter and crude comments soon quieted as the boys settled in for the night -- with the freshmen and sophomores on the floor and living room furniture, the upperclassmen scattered to the bedrooms.
Saturday dawned sunny and warm, and after a hearty breakfast prepared (under duress) by the younger guys, the team, now in training, decided to take a four-mile run around the lake. The athletes were all in superb condition, and most chose to jog in running shorts and no shirts. Within 45 minutes, even the slowest runners had completed the loop, and the squad now clustered in front of the house, their bodies glistening with perspiration, their pecs and abs hard, chests heaving, legs pumped and slightly burning. Luke and Mark decided a late morning swim would be just the thing to cool the sweaty bunch off after the run, and told the guys they had five minutes to change into swimsuits and be at the small dock that jutted into the lake nearby. A frenzy of half-naked to naked bodies rushed to and fro, tossing aside shoes and clothes as suits were quickly donned. As they gathered at the dock, Bryan Carmichael had to smile -- besides himself, there were now four other boys wearing Speedos, or other brands of brief racing suits. In other words, about half the team had ditched the baggy boardies for real swimsuits!
Mark Jamison, as senior team captain, couldn't help but comment on the changing attire of the team. "Damn," he said, "it was just a couple weeks ago that almost nobody on the team owned a Speedo -- now look at you guys!" A couple of the brief-clad young men smiled shyly, but most took it in stride. "These suits just make more sense for swimming," said Jamie Knox. "And besides," he continued, "with our studly wrestler physiques, we look hot as hell!" At that, he suddenly ran down the length of the dock and leapt, whooping and yelling, into the cool water! In a flash, the rest of the boys did the same, as some jumped -- and others were pushed -- into the lake. For nearly an hour, the guys swam and splashed and dunked and wrestled and tackled one another, churning the quiet water into a froth. Seniors Mark and Luke engaged in a `chicken fight' while carrying the two smallest boys -- Joey and Jamie -- on their shoulders. A couple of the guys challenged Bryan to a swim race across a narrow part of the lake and back -- Bryan accepted, knowing his swimming background gave him a decided edge. What he didn't know was that Carter had been recruited to aid them in their effort to defeat Bryan by swimming in the murky water under the freshman as he neared the end of the race and yanking his suit down -- or even off -- thus distracting him and causing him to lose. The plan worked like a charm -- Bryan was so startled by the sudden appearance of Carter beneath him that he stopped dead in the water, allowing his protagonist the chance to grab him around the waist and tug his small Speedo down below his knees in a matter of seconds. As poor Bryan struggled to pull his suit back up, his two opponents gleefully raced by him, cackling in victory. Bryan wanted to be mad, but the silliness of the situation, and the camaraderie he felt with his teammates, prevented his anger from taking charge, and he was soon laughing along with everyone else.
Finally heading onto the shore, the boys were exhausted from their run and aquatic activities. The younger guys were sent into the house to fetch towels, then all stretched out in the grass to tan under the bright sun. Cody and Bryan -- both of whom had been very circumspect about their growing `relationship' in front of their teammates, shared a blanket for tanning. Both were in brief racing suits, and Cody quietly whispered to Brian that he would `examine the bulge' in Bryan's suit if their fellow schoolmates weren't around, a comment that caused Bryan to laugh and blush at the same time. "What's so funny?" asked Zach Crisswell, as he approached them. "Oh, um, nothing -- just Cody being Cody," responded Bryan. As they glanced up, both Cody and Bryan were quite surprised to notice something they had not observed earlier. Zach had worn a pair of white basketball shorts into the lake, and now, standing next to their blanket in the bright sun, the pair noticed that the wet, sheer fabric of the shorts had become nearly see-through. Zach, however, was oblivious to this fact, completely unaware of his near-naked condition.
Bryan and Cody could not help but notice two things right off the bat -- 1) Zach was not wearing any underwear beneath his shorts, and 2) Zach was hung like the proverbial horse. They could easily see where the damp fabric encased his large cock -- could see the very size and shape of Zach's penis as it dangled at a slight angle along his right thigh, the cockhead and flared corona easily distinguishable from the shaft above. As Zach shifted his footing, his genitals swayed heavily beneath his shorts, moving softly but powerfully. When Zach turned slightly sideways, they could detect the outline of his dangling testicles where they hung in their large pouch, also swaying slightly. As Zach stood close to the boys' blanket talking animatedly, Cody realized how na´ve the kid was about how translucent his wet shorts were. Fearing he might decide to walk or jog around the lake again, and encounter some senior citizen or weekend vacationer, and possibly offend someone, Cody motioned for Zach to sit on the blanket. The kid did indeed take a seat, but in doing so, he spread his muscular legs and sat with his knees raised. This position caused his loose shorts to gap open at his thigh, giving both Cody and Bryan an eyeful of, well, of everything Cody had to offer between his legs.
Chuckling, Cody sat up and put an arm around Zach's shoulders. "Um, Zach, old buddy," said Cody confidentially, "Don't know how to say this exactly, but, um, dude, if you are going to wear white shorts in the water, you might want to put some undies on beneath them. Your shorts are like totally see-through when wet! Oh, and dude, sitting in that position in those loose shorts is giving me and Bry a nice view of your family jewels!" Flustered and a little embarrassed, Zach rearranged himself, then thanked Cody for the warning about his see-through shorts. "Man, I never even realized that these were so thin and sheer. That could have been really humiliating if I'd run into someone around here other than a teammate. Thanks for telling me, Cody," Zach responded. "No problem, man," Cody said. "If it's just us guys, you're fine -- but if any of the neighbors drop by to borrow a cup of sugar, you might scare them away flashing that big `love-gun' you've got!"
The rest of the afternoon was spent sunning and swimming and frolicking -- just boys being boys. Some beach wrestling matches were organized as each boy wanted to test his strength and agility against his mates. Covered with sand and leaves after their bout, the guys would take a cleansing dip in the lake, only to be dirty again in half an hour. Beer, and then alcohol began to flow more freely, though the older guys were careful to monitor the amount consumed by their younger charges. Many recalled an incident two years ago on campus where a fraternity pledge had nearly died from alcohol poisoning, so moderation was enforced. Still, as the guys prepared a meal of barbecued chicken and ribs for dinner, a feeling of mellowness was evident. As the sun set, a line of clouds and storms could be seen rapidly approaching from the west, obscuring the last rays of the day. The gang finished dinner and hurried inside just as the first raindrops began to fall.
Settling in for their last evening at the cabin, the guys stayed warm and dry as a surprisingly strong storm raged outside. The weather finally quieted, though the cold front had ushered in an air mass that dropped temperatures some twenty-five degrees. As the cabin cooled, a couple of the boys made jokes about `sharing' beds for warmth, or `cuddling' with a young freshman for the night. However, the temperature was still mild enough that only a couple of the guys had changed back into their clothes -- most just remained in their boardies, and none of the `Speedo-clad' guys had bothered to change. As the winds died down, and the alcohol continued to flow freely, talk became more personal, more intimate between the young men in the room. Some chatted about their hopes for the upcoming year -- a divisional championship was a possibility, though others wondered how they could topple the powerful Tech team they'd lost to recently. Some talked about their homes, and high school teams. As the night passed, a couple mentioned girls they had dated, or wanted to date -- several lamented the lack of `pussy' on campus, while others challenged this statement, rattling off a list of girls known to `put out' to various jocks on assorted Holden teams. Soon, the older guys had begun losing track of how much beer and booze the younger boys had consumed, though senior captain Mark did keep a sharp eye out for anyone becoming excessively inebriated.
The sense of brotherhood grew stronger, as wrestlers shared the two sofas, arms draped around one another's shoulders, the freshmen lying on the carpeted floor, a couple resting their heads on the thighs of their teammates, talking quietly. Several of the boys told stories of their sexual exploits, and a couple told darker tales -- of being approached in public restrooms by `weirdos' or `old fags' who wanted to service them. Joey Mangini swore a man had offered him $50.00 to let him `suck my balls dry' in a diner's restroom. Sophomore Jamie Knox, by now rather drunk, suddenly blurted out something that startled the assembled group. "I got sucked off in a Speedo once by an older guy." The others, even those in a liquor-induced fog, sat upright, shocked at what he'd just said. "What? What did you say?" asked several at once.
Jamie, too drunk to stop himself, related the story. In high school, he'd played on his school's water polo team in the fall, while wrestling in the winter months. Bryan remembered the first day Coach Weber had taken them to the pool, and how well Jamie swam -- so that explained it! Jamie had grown up in the East Bay area near San Francisco, where water polo was hugely popular as a varsity sport, as it was in most of California. Anyway, he also worked as a part-time lifeguard at a community pool. He usually wore his small polo suit beneath his red shorts, but during breaks, he would strip off the shorts and swim some laps. One day, it had been cloudy and quite cool, with few patrons at the facility, so only he and another guard remained on duty while the other two were sent home early. Late in the day, he took one final swim, but when he got out, his red guard shorts were nowhere to be found. He thought his buddy had swiped them, but the kid swore he hadn't touched them, and insisted he'd been mopping the office floor anyway -- he hadn't even been on deck. With only an hour to go before closing, Jamie was forced to work in just his small suit -- it didn't really bother him, he explained, since he was accustomed to being scantily attired anyway at the polo games. And besides, the handful of girls still at the pool seemed to suddenly find all sorts of questions to come up and ask him -- and he even noticed some of the older women -- married mothers! -- eyeing him appreciatively. But, after searching everywhere, he still couldn't find his guard shorts.
At closing time, he was left in charge of cleaning up and locking the facility. The last man to leave was a guy maybe 30, who had swum numerous laps of butterfly and IM sets during his hours at the pool. Jamie admitted the man wore a simple navy blue Speedo, and had an awesome physique. When the swimmer headed into the locker room, Jamie had turned off the pool lights, stacked the chairs, then walked into the locker room to shower and change into his clothes. He was surprised to find the man still in the showers, still wearing his Speedos. As Jamie had entered the shower room, he said the man started talking to him, asking him about water polo. When he asked how he knew Jamie played polo, the man had just smiled and said, "Well, it says Monte Vista Water Polo on your suit!" Feeling silly, Jamie had smiled and told him about their team. Then the man had asked if water polo suits were the same as regular Speedos.
"I told him no, they were made of a thicker polyester material, so they weren't so easy to tear or rip, since polo can be a pretty grueling sport under the water, with guys trying to pull your suit off and stuff," Jamie told his fellow wrestlers. "He was surprised, thinking all suits were the same, and he stepped over to me and asked if he could feel the material. I was surprised by his question, but before I could say anything, he just reached over and slipped a couple fingers down my waistband, inside my suit, then rubbed his thumb against the outside, commenting on the rough texture of the material. I was a little shocked by his brazenness, and even more shocked when he kept touching my suit, not removing his fingers at all." Jamie paused in his story, his brain sending signals that maybe he'd already said too much, but glancing around the room, he saw everyone staring at him, holding their breaths, waiting for him to continue.
"He kept his fingers inside my suit. I tried to back away, but I was already up against the shower wall -- there was no place for me to go. The man -- he kept saying stuff like `feels so good', `so nice', your suit is so brief' -- all kinds of stuff like that. Then, his fingers went in further, and, well, he started touching my dick -- just rubbing it a little." At this point, Jamie's face became red, the memory of that evening burning him with shame. Yet somehow, he couldn't stop telling the story -- his teammates had fallen completely silent, and waited expectantly for him to continue.
"I...I...well, the next thing I knew, I was starting to get hard in my suit -- you know, the way he was touching me down there, sort of stroking my dick and everything. In a few moments, he had me completely erect. I was so embarrassed, but it was like I couldn't move -- like he controlled me or something. My dick was pushing out against the suit, stretching it out. All of a sudden, he just dropped to his knees. Then he leaned forward, stuck out his tongue, and started licking my dick through my suit. He kept running his tongue up and down my dick -- from my ball sack to the tip, then back down until the material was soaked. Then he just took the top half of my dick -- even though it was still inside my suit -- and sucked it into his mouth, and began to just suck and lick and bite at my shaft like it was a popsicle or something. And then, well, then, I just couldn't control myself any longer. I could feel my sperm building up so fast, and I knew it was going to squirt out -- I just couldn't hold it back. I tried to warn him. But he just said `Let me have it' -- that was exactly what he said -- `Let me have it'. And I did -- I blew a huge load, and he just sucked my cum right through my suit. I looked down and could see it dribbling on his chin. Then, he just yanked my suit down and licked my dick clean -- anyplace where my cum had run down on my shaft or got caught in my pubes, he just licked it off me. Then he stood up, walked out of the shower, threw on a pair of running shorts, and walked out of the locker room, still dripping wet from the shower, and some of my cum still on his chin."
Jamie had finished the story. Glancing around the room, he could see looks of shock, excitement, wonder -- just every emotion -- on his teammates' faces. Many of them were quietly adjusting themselves, their boardies suddenly bunched uncomfortably in front. Glancing down, Jamie was shocked to see he himself was sporting a huge boner in his red swim team Speedo -- then he noticed every other Speedo-clad boy in the cabin was similarly aroused, and not even trying to hide it -- whether seated or standing, he could see each of them had a stiff, throbbing piece of meat squirming beneath the thin lycra fabric of the suits they wore. Despite the haze his mind was in from the beers he had consumed, Jamie had the uncomfortable feeling that perhaps he'd said too much. At that moment, Bryan `B-Man' Bingham, stepped over to him and said hoarsely, drunkenly, "I want to do that shit to you right now." And then, just as he had done recently in the locker room, he hoisted the much smaller Jamie up over his shoulder and carried him down the hall to the farthest bedroom. Surprised, intimidated, and yet a little curious, Jamie said nothing. The other boys in the large living room just watched with bemused expressions as B-Man carried Jamie down the darkened hallway.
"What the fuck?" said one, as another boy, half-asleep, chuckled and said, "Those two are such clowns, always screwing around." Others nodded and took another swig, assuring themselves `nothing' would really happen, their two teammates were just playing a trick. But Cody and Bryan Carmichael glanced at each other, for each had detected a note of seriousness in B-Man's voice that made them wonder...
In the bedroom, the big guy unsteadily but carefully put his Speedo-clad friend down on the floor, pushing him firmly, but not roughly, against the wall. His eyes slightly bleary with liquor, the heavyweight placed a hand on Jamie's shoulder, then began to stammer and stutter. "Um, Jamie, I um, well hell, I'm not sure how to say what I want to say. What I mean is, well, I know you think I'm drunk -- and I am, a little -- but not as much as you may think. Jamie, I'm sort of crazy -- crazy in love with you." He then leaned forward and placed a kiss on Jamie's cheek.
The smaller wrestler was stunned by Bryan's confession, and even more so by the small peck on the cheek he'd just received. He grinned, then started to chuckle as his face flushed with color. Jamie had enjoyed `B-Man's' gentle teasing and coy flirting the past few weeks, but he'd always thought the big lug was just playing a game with him. To suddenly discover the attraction he felt was mutually shared was almost too good to be true! "You...you mean you really LIKE me? Maybe even, well, LOVE me?" Jamie said breathlessly. Then, he playfully added, "Gee, B, you've never even taken me to dinner or a movie. And now you expect me to just put out for you?"
The bigger boy took a step back, unsure at first what to say. Then, finding his voice, he said, "Gosh Jamie, would you like to, um, maybe go out with me sometime? Like on a date or whatever?" Dating another wrestler had never crossed his mind -- sex was one thing, but a date?
Jamie smiled again and said, "Yeah, I would like to go out with you. I think that would be fun. But right now, well, you already have me in a bedroom, almost nude. Did you have something else in mind for the evening?"
Grinning ear to ear, the `big lug', who now seemed quite sober, dropped to his knees and began to tenderly kiss Jamie's quivering abs, then lowered his lips and began to kiss the swelling bulge inside the smaller boy's expanding swimsuit. Jamie gasped as pleasure swept through his body, then gasped again as a pair of warm lips began to encase his throbbing organ through the taut red material. Tongue licking his glans, teeth gently scraping his engorged shaft -- it was all so unreal, so exhilarating. Jamie found himself barely able to breath as his teammate began to expertly work him over, arousing desires in him that had been kept under control until now. Bryan's large hand slid up Jamie's inner thigh, forcing his legs apart. Just as Jamie thought he would pass out -- so much blood seemed to be leaving his head and rushing to other parts of his body -- Bryan suddenly lifted him off his feet and carried him to the bed, placing him softly onto the mattress. Then he slowly pushed Jamie's legs up and back, and somewhat apart, exposing the young athletes scrotal and perineum area. Then the large man -- ever so gently -- began to tickle Jamie's nutsac through the silky, sheer fabric, then began to probe along his perineum, applying enough pressure to stimulate Jamie's prostate. Jamie groaned loudly, so loudly in fact that his partner had to `shush' him.
Both boys knew they were taking a risk -- certainly some of their teammates would wonder what they were doing in the bedroom -- but at that point, neither wanted to dwell on that. There were more pressing issues at hand. After tormenting the smaller youth's prostate and tickling his `nads, Bryan reached up and slipped his fingers under the waistband of Jamie's Speedo and began untying the drawstring, then slipped the small suit completely off. Jamie's hard cock bobbed and swayed up from his groin, and Bryan, now losing control, simply buried his face between Jamie's thighs and began to hungrily lick, suck and nip at the boy's swollen meat. Less than a minute later, he heard Jamie cry out a warning, but it was too late -- the kid's cock began jetting streams of hot, viscous boycum into Bryan's mouth. Even as Bryan pulled back, savoring the sweet flavor of Jamie's seed on his tongue, the `little guy' continued to shoot wildly, spraying semen onto `B-Man's' face and neck, as both wrestlers struggled for oxygen, laughing giddily in joy at what they'd just experienced.
The rest of the team was feeling rather melancholy, relaxing in the large, comfortable living room, sipping and swigging some brews or harder drinks. They chatted amongst themselves, sharing stories, hopes, and fantasies. Luke had been relatively quiet for most of the weekend, which was not like him. Cody saw him standing alone by the entrance to the kitchen and called him to come over and sit on the sofa with himself and a couple others, which he did. "Why have you been so quiet this weekend, Luke? So sober and almost gloomy? Usually you're the life of the party," Cody asked him. "Is there something wrong? Girl problems maybe?"
Luke smiled bashfully, then shook his head. "No, not exactly. I guess I've just had a lot on my mind lately," he said. Cody casually draped an arm around Luke's shoulder and looked him square in the eyes. "Talk to me, dude," Cody said. But Luke only smiled again, then said, "There's no real problem, Cody, it's just that I've had some mixed-up feelings lately -- you know, sort of drawn between two worlds -- half of me says go right, the other says go left. And I'm not sure either way is what's best."
"Well, you need to follow your heart, Luke -- it won't steer you wrong," Cody told him. Thumping Luke's bare, broad chest, Cody said again, "Your heart knows what you should do, so trust it. Don't let what others say dissuade you from your real desires or hopes." Suddenly feeling happier, Luke snuggled down on the sofa, resting his head on Cody's shoulder. Playfully, Cody reached over and tickled Luke's ear, causing the jock to jump and giggle. "Oh, a little ticklish, are we?" Cody asked, an impish light gleaming from his eyes. "Bryan -- help me tickle some life into this boy!" Immediately, Bryan Carmichael was at Cody's side as the two of them pounced on poor Luke. Fingers were on Luke in an instant -- tickling his ribs, his tummy, then going for his thighs and knees, his pits -- just anywhere they could find some bare skin. And, since Luke had surprised everyone that weekend by donning a Speedo -- which he was still wearing -- there was bare skin galore! Cody and Bryan quickly had Luke pinned to the sofa, completely at their mercy. The other boys in the room gathered around as the tickling party hit full stride. Luke tried to curl into a ball to protect his tender ribs and stomach, but this opened new targets -- such as the backs of his legs and his lean, muscular flanks.
Oh, how they worked Luke over! It was good to see the wrestler laughing and smiling again as he squirmed helplessly in their grasp. One or two of the other boys also joined in, teasing the handsome athlete, tickling him here and there. Cody found his fingers straying further up Luke's legs, until he was tickling his ass through the thin lycra of his suit. Moments later, Cody and Bryan both noticed a stirring in the front of the suit as Luke's large, flaccid sex organ began stirring to life. The other boys -- Carter Jacks among them - noticed this as well, and all four redoubled their efforts, reducing the hapless youth to a laughing, shuddering mass of muscled boy who begged and pleaded for mercy while his hardening dick stretched the front of his small Speedo. Cody soon realized how totally embarrassed Luke was -- the senior was no longer using his hands and arms to cover his abs and sides -- he was only trying to hide his swelling erection from the eyes of his tormentors. Taking mercy on his friend, Cody finally let up, and urged the others to give Luke a break also, which they did. As Luke finally was allowed to stand, his steel-hard cock blatantly stretched the front of the suit nearly to the point of ripping through the thin material. Luke tried to cover himself, but to no avail. Carter nodded in the direction of his groin, commenting, "Did you enjoy the tickling, Luke? Sure looks like you did." Luke, looking suddenly shy and almost humiliated, could only stare at the floor as he muttered, "I, um, sometimes I get excited down there -- you know, I get erections when I don't mean to." The others chuckled, nodding their heads in understanding, since all had faced similar circumstances in the past. "It was still good to hear you laugh and see you smile this weekend, Luke -- finally!" Cody said meaningfully.
Jamie was still wide awake, lying quietly next to his big buddy. `B-Man' was also having trouble falling asleep, and after nearly half an hour of trying, he rolled over and saw Jamie was still awake. "What's up, little guy?", he said softly to the smaller athlete beside him. "You having trouble sleeping, too?"
"Yeah, I guess so," Jamie said, then sighed audibly. "B, do you ever worry about what people might think -- you know, about us, or about being gay or whatever? Like, what your parents, or friends, or teammates might say?"
Big Bryan reached over and pulled Jamie closer to him, allowing the two to snuggle closely. He thought for a moment, then said, "Well, yes, I do think about it. I know my parents love me, so I think they will always accept me. Friends -- well, if your friends can't accept you, were they really your friends to begin with? I mean, I don't become friends with people because of their sexual orientation -- I become friends because they are interesting people, or kind people, or people who have the same sense of fun and adventure I have, or the same outlook on things -- or hell, maybe even the opposite outlook. Some of my best friends are people I may totally disagree with on election day, but love to hang out with every other day of the year! Now teammates, that can be a little tricky -- you can't choose your teammates, you are more or less forced together. Some guys are really homophobic, most are nonchalant about it, and a few are quite accepting, without judgment. It's funny, there was a senior on the team when I joined as a frosh -- totally straight acting, always making anti-gay comments. Somehow, I ended up sharing a room with him during our first road trip that fall. Now, back then, I was still struggling to come to grips myself, still unsure if I was gay, or confused, or what. This guy was always so serious, it irked me. I just started tickling him for the hell of it -- I was a heavyweight even then and outweighed him, so I got the upper hand. We were just in boxers -- and I swear, thirty seconds into the tickling, his pride and joy was poking straight out of his fly. And he started saying stuff like, `Don't you DARE touch my dick. I mean it Bryan, don't even THINK about it' -- you know, shit like that, like he was DARING me to touch him there. So I did! I just wrapped my hand around his prong! And he just closed his eyes and started breathing real hard, then said -- but softer -- `Don't you even CONSIDER trying to play with my cock -- don't even TRY to milk my sperm out of me. Don't even THINK about it!' So, well, Jamie, I guess you know what I did next! Within another minute, we were beating each other off like there was no tomorrow. Man, we both unloaded like a gallon of jizz! So, turned out Mr. Straight liked a little boy juice on the side!"
"But, yes, Jamie," Bryan continued, "you need to be careful. You don't want to antagonize people you are teammates with. That's why I try not to be in people's faces about gay stuff. Jeremy Gasconde is, like, very religious -- which is cool, but I just would not tease him, or try to be all in his face about gayness. I get the impression he would not approve of it, that's all -- just my impression. For all I know, he may be gay himself, or at least may have no problems with homosexuality. But I truly like and respect him -- I think he's one of the all-around nicest guys on the team, would do anything for you. So I won't force the issue with him -- he does his thing, I do mine.
Jamie nodded his head in understanding, than startled Bryan by asking, "Did you think -- or know -- that I was gay? Is that why you played those games with me -- carrying me over your shoulder in the locker room, then again here at the lake house?"
Bryan snorted as he laughed. "Honestly, Jamie, I had no clue about your orientation. I just found you so irresistibly cute, I just couldn't keep my hands off you! I was just hoping against hope..." Jamie smiled contentedly, then snuggled deeper into the crook of Bryan's large arm. Both boys were asleep soon afterwards.
Cody briefly considered making arrangements for Bryan Carmichael to sleep with him in the bedroom he'd shared with Mark the night before. But after a quick discussion, neither wrestler thought it prudent to push their budding relationship into the open just yet. Already that evening, one or two of the guys had uttered subtle whispers about what might be going on in `B-Man's' room between him and Jamie. The whispered words weren't ugly or condemning -- just sort of questioning, wondering. Cody and Bryan -- who themselves were wondering exactly what was up between the team's biggest and smallest wrestlers -- felt it was better not to add fuel to the fire.
The boys settled in for the night, and awoke to a bright, but cool morning. The smell of bacon and scrambled eggs wafted through the house as the young men stirred to life, taking turns in the bathroom to relieve their beer-filled bladders. Heading into the kitchen, they found a smiling Jamie and Bryan hard at work preparing breakfast for the group. After a hearty meal, they again headed to the lake, where the water was still warm despite the cool air. Horseplay, dares and challenges filled the better part of the morning until it was time to pack the cars and head back to Holden.
Reaching the campus late in the afternoon, the boys were dropped off at their respective dorms and apartments. Cody took Bryan back to his dorm and helped him carry a couple things inside. Cody had a test the following day to study for, but before he left, he turned to Bryan and said, "Well, it was a fun weekend, even though we couldn't exactly do everything we might have hoped. But our time will come -- soon, Bry. I promise." Cody turned to leave, then suddenly turned around and kissed Bryan on the mouth forcefully. Bryan started to lift his arms, to grab Cody and pull their bodies together, but just as quickly, Cody stepped away and hurried out the door. Bryan sank down on his bed, smiling, then laughing out loud. Yes, it had been a fun weekend, but the best was yet to come!