Do It Again, Part 4
by Greg Scott
All the usual stuff about you must be old enough in your jurisdiction, etc. In other words, if you are underage, don't read this unless you have a really cool teacher who assigned it. Otherwise, come back in a few years, when nobody will yell at you.
------------------------------Thursday's practice was pretty much the reverse of the Wednesday routine. That is, the older guys spent most of the time working on the plays, practicing passing patterns and working on fundamentals. The bench warmers, including me, got the exhausting workout of weights, wind sprints and a four mile run after we were already practically immobile.
One difference that turned out to be pretty important, though, was that the coaches released both groups for showers at about the same time. I wouldn't be lagging behind Rich Collins this time.
As it turned out, Rich walked into the showers right after me, although he was too busy talking about a new play with the first string quarterback to even notice my existence. The QB claimed the shower head directly across from mine, and Rich took the one to his right. I got a little thrill realizing that I would have a good angle to assess my secret crush's body without being too obvious.
Ever since my chance anonymous meeting with Rich on Tuesday, I had been trying to remember every detail of his sixteen year old body. I had probably seen him naked after either the Monday or the Tuesday practice, but I couldn't really remember any specifics. At that time, he had just been a part of the mass of nude teenagers. I had concentrated more on the group rather than giving my attention over to the inspection of any individuals. I had seen lots of cocks, asses, chests, legs with varying amounts of hair and faces, but my mind didn't assemble any of the pieces into a single, complete human body.
Now, of course, my interest was concentrated on Rich, but I knew I had to be careful not to let my eyes betray that obsession. My clandestine efforts were helped by the continuing conversation between the wide receiver and his buddy next to him. During that time, there was little danger that either of them would pay any attention to the direction of my eyes. Eventually their chatter subsided as they turned their concentration to scrubbing away the several hours' worth of sweat and dust that had collected on all of us.
I watched Rich, probably longer than I should have, as he moved his soapy hands in circles across his muscular chest. I imagined what it must feel like, but the result of that thought turned out to be a puffiness in my groin. I had to look away for a while to try to get those thoughts out of my mind and my cock under control.
When I next dared to look at Rich, I glanced at his handsome face. You know how you can look at somebody's eyes and know exactly where they are looking? I could tell that he was looking at me, specifically at my legs that have just started to get dark hair on them, enough to be noticed at least. I kept watching as his eyes slowly moved up to my private parts, and when his gaze reached my cock area the expression on his face changed.
I couldn't read his mind, of course, but it looked to me that he recognized my rod and was trying to figure out where he might have seen it before. He must have stared at it for a full five seconds, which is a long time to be staring at a cock in a shower room filled with high school boys. Usually we just glance briefly, then move on quickly to something else. I mean we all catch each other doing it, but we all pretend that we just happened to look there by accident.
There was nothing about the way that Rich was staring at me that could be interpreted as accidental. Of course, I guess it would have been obvious to anyone watching me that my gaze at Rich's face wasn't an accident either.
Eventually he came back to reality to catch himself. With his forehead wrinkled quizzically, he glanced into my eyes. As happens at times like that, we both looked away, breaking eye contact as quickly as possible.
After a short time, I risked looking at his eyes again. They were following a repetitive pattern. He would look at his feet, then direct his eyes to my own feet and finally come to rest on my cock. I watched him repeat that process four times, before I realized that his preoccupation meant that I could take advantage of his distraction to gaze at his perfect cock.
It was clear to me, as it would have been apparent to anyone else who might have been watching him that his cock had started to grow. While it wasn't pointed skyward as it had been Tuesday afternoon, it was no longer pointing at the floor either.
I decided to check out his face again to see if his expression might give a clue to his thoughts. He brought his eyes off my cock and again we made eye contact. This time, however, neither of us broke off immediately as is customary. We stared into each other. It was like some game of "chicken" or something.
At last he broke off, but not to look at the ceiling or floor or even his own body. No, he slowly lowered his eyes back to my cock. I did the same, and I saw his cock actually move.
All of that had the natural effect on me, as I felt my own cock twitch. I needed to get that thing under control before I turned into the laughing stock of the team. I pivoted so that I was facing the back wall, my cock now out of sight of my team mates.
By the time I turned around again, Rich was gone. Indeed, most of the showers were now turned off and unused, dripping the last few drops of water held in the shower heads. I rinsed quickly to head back to my locker.
Once I had dressed and was tying my shoe, Rich inexplicably walked down my locker room aisle on the way toward the exit. I knew it was out of his way to follow that path.
"Nice shoes, Crawford," he said as he passed.
"Thanks," I called to his back.
Two things surprised me by that exchange, which was probably the longest conversation that I had ever had with Rich. First, he knew my last name. That realization thrilled me for some reason. I didn't care whether he knew my first name, Tyler, or not. As an older team member, it would be customary for him to call me by my last name anyway.
But what confused me more was his compliment of my shoes. In fact, they were not "nice" shoes. I'm not really into brands anyway, but I wear just an ordinary pair of athletic shoes to and from practice because they're comfortable peddling my bike.
Then it hit me! He checked out my shoes because he would have been able to see them clearly under the bathroom stall on Tuesday. Those shoes, and maybe my cock, would be the only two things that he could recognize. He must have wanted me to know that he knew the identity of his secret partner from two days ago. But would he know that I also knew his identity? That part I couldn't answer--at least, not yet.
My muscles ached as I peddled my bike at the start of my five mile journey home. I didn't really mind, though. There is something gratifying about knowing that you have worked your body to the limit or, perhaps, beyond.
As I passed the sign that I knew marked the town limits, which served as an immediate change to the landscape of large, Midwestern farms which had served as the backdrop for my entire life, I began to reconstruct the strange sequence of events in the locker room such a short time before. I guess I wanted to reassure myself that I was really receiving signals from Rich. I feared that maybe I was attributing unintended meaning to typical teenage boy behavior.
The more I thought about his direct, eventually unhidden stares at my cock, the more certain I became that his behavior was meant to tell me something. No doubt there had been no other reason for him to walk past me to comment on my rather ordinary shoes. As my certainty grew, so did the rigidity of my cock.
I enjoyed my growing horniness as I pedaled the aches out of my legs. I heard a rare car approaching behind me, so I hugged the edge of the pavement to allow it to pass without needing to swerve too far into the other lane. However, the car seemed to be slowing as it approached.
Eventually the driver pulled even with me. I glanced to my left in time to see a grinning Rich waving at me. I released my right hand from the handlebar to return his gesture. He accelerated past me.
When he was about a hundred yards ahead, he braked and pulled his sedan onto the gravel shoulder. I continued riding until I reached his door, where I stopped. His window was down.
"Do you want a lift?" he asked with a grin.
"Sure," I replied. "Will my bike fit in your trunk?"
"We'll make it fit," he said with a wink.
Once we were on our way, I gave him directions to my house. We drove in silence. He seemed as nervous as I was.
As we came to the road sign announcing that the park was on the left in half a mile, I sensed increased tension in the already tightly wound environment.
"You're lucky to have a rest stop to use on your way home," Rich said.
"Yeah, I guess so," I replied a bit unsure of where this topic of conversation might head.
"Do you ever stop here?" he asked feigning an ignorance that I knew was no longer the case.
"Yeah, I've been there but only a couple times," I replied, deciding that honesty is the best policy whenever you are unsure what else to say.
I was tempted to ask him if he had ever been to the park, but this was a game that I didn't want to play until I better understood whatever rules he had invented.
Rich activated his turning signal. My quickly constructed fantasy of today did not include a reenactment of our explorations of two days before. I had been hoping for something a little more intimate.
"I'm thirsty," he announced as justification as he pulled into the roadside park.
"Yeah, me too," I said. I had blamed my dry mouth on my nervousness, but I now realized that I was feeling a little dehydrated from the practice and pumping my bike up the only hill in town afterwards.
Rich parked his car in the spot closest to the well, eliminating the possibility of him claiming that this was his first stop here. He grabbed the pump and began working it with his strong hands clamped onto the iron handle.
As water began to gush from the spigot, he cavalierly said, "You first. Be my guest."
I didn't argue with his chivalry. I cupped my hands into a makeshift container and gulped greedily. I could have downed a gallon, but I knew that Rich undoubtedly was as thirsty as I was after practicing in the stifling heat.
We exchanged places, and he drank his fill. Then he sauntered to take a seat at a nearby picnic table. I followed after him, taking the spot on the splintery bench directly opposite his masculine form.
After a moment of just gazing at the trees, Rich turned to me and announced, "I may have to use the bathroom."
I found his choice of words to be odd. I mean, what was with the word, "may?" In my case, I either have to go or I don't. I thought about teasing him concerning his indecision about a bodily function.
I said, "You can use one at my house. It's only a couple miles away."
As I announced that, I suddenly realized what an idiot I was. His sentence was an invitation for me to join him in the apparently empty bathroom. Even if I had translated his meaning sooner, my response would have been the same. I didn't want to back into that place with him as long as there was another alternative.
"I don't want to disturb anyone at your house," he said.
I knew it was a question, and I was happy to give him the answer.
"Oh it wouldn't be a problem ever, but there's nobody at my house during the daytime, so it'll be fine."
We stood very close as I unlocked our front door. Rich was much closer to me than another teenage boy would normally stand, but I didn't mind. A couple times while I took my time with the lock, his hand bumped my thigh. Each time a spark shot through my body.
"Have a seat," I said, "unless you still need to use the bathroom."
He grinned broadly, showing his perfect rows of snow white teeth.
"I think I'm okay, now," he said.
"I thought you would be," I teased. We were done with the charade.
"Can we go to your room?" Rich asked.
I led the way up the stairs, walked into my room and turned to look at him. Rich wasn't directly behind me, though. Instead he walked immediately to a movie poster on my wall. He closely inspected the almost life size picture of Johnny Depp as "Captain Jack."
I sat on the edge of my bed and watched as he would reach toward, but never touch, the poster. I enjoyed looking at Rich's body, and I especially liked looking at the hair on the part of his legs protruding from his shorts.
He turned around to see me sitting watching him.
"Sorry," he said. "Don't tell anyone else, but I think Johnny Depp is hot."
"I agree," I grinned, recognizing that we were telling each other a lot in just a few words.
Rich ignored the three vacant chairs in the room and sat next to me. We spent a while just looking into each other's eyes. He put a hand on my thigh, and I did the same to him.
That seemed to open the floodgates. He immediately went for my belt, working it urgently.
"I've been wanting to get back to this thing for the last two days, but I didn't know it was you. I was surprised and a little scared when I thought I recognized you in the shower."
"I thought you saw something that looked familiar today," I said.
"Did you identify me at the same time?" he asked.
"I saw you walking toward the bathroom at the park. I knew it was you on Tuesday, the whole time," I explained.
By this time, Rich had succeeded in freeing my belt, button and zipper. He tugged at the bottom of my shorts. I reclined on the bed, raising my hips to assist him in his quest. Once freed, my cock sprung upright, waving briefly in the air for an instant before Rich dove onto it, enclosing it entirely with his mouth.
I raised my head to watch. He looked like a calf that had suddenly found his mother after a long fast. If he had been, he would have emptied her udder within seconds.
"I want yours, now," I insisted after a short while. I had already learned what it was like to cum in Rich's mouth; I wanted to experience the other side of the coin this time.
Rich dropped his shorts much more quickly than he had been able to get mine out of the way. I sat up as he stood facing me. I leaned forward and took his ample rod into my mouth, exploring every ridge and crevice with my tongue. I would have been happy doing this for the rest of my life.
Rich had other plans, though. His touch led me to pivot on the bed, then he climbed onto my bedspread along side but upside down. This was a new idea for me, but I could tell by the relative positions of our cocks and mouths what he had in mind.
Of course, I had heard of a sixty-nine, but I had always heard it described as something that a girl and a guy might do to each other. That had no appeal to me. I had never realized before that the same position would work for two guys.
We had to readjust a couple times to get lined up properly, but eventually it was perfect. I sucked as I swirled my tongue. I could taste the soap from his recent shower, but I could also taste something that must just be the flavor of Rich himself. I loved it.
Meanwhile, Rich began a rhythmic pumping motion with his hips, gently moving his cock into and out of my mouth, although never completely out. I decided to imitate his movement. It felt fantastic. My senses were going crazy.
I brought up one of my hands to feel his ball sac. I gently moved the balls around as if they were very large marbles that I rubbed in my palm. His familiar moan began, and I felt that vibration on my cock.
If you've never tried this before, you really should! Let me try to explain what the feelings are like.
My mouth felt the sensations of being massaged by a rod that fit perfectly, a rod that was stiff but covered in skin like the softest leather. My hand felt the soft vulnerability of a smooth bag of candy. My nose breathed air that was fresh and clean, but at the same time wonderfully musky.
Meanwhile my cock was lavished with a moist warmth and the softness of the flesh of the inner cheeks. It was stroked by the subtle ridges of a demanding tongue.
My ears heard the sounds made by me and by the boy that I had been fantasizing about for the past forty-eight hours or maybe even my whole life.
I felt the nails of one of Rich's hands digging into my butt cheeks. Then I felt the first of his jizz hit my tongue. I remember thinking that a guy was cumming in my mouth for the first time.
That was the last coherent thought that I had for a while though, because all of those sensations combined and the feeling of Rich's cum filling my mouth almost to overflowing was sufficient to begin my own climax. It was as if the intensity of my ejaculation monopolized all of my brain. I just stopped thinking. I became an animal humping and delivering my sperm into the hungry mouth. But I took just as willingly and mindlessly as I gave.
I felt Rich's throat constrict on the tip of my cock as he swallowed my gift. I did the same. It coated the deepest parts of my throat.
We lay there for some time as our cocks deflated somewhat while still firmly in the other's mouth. It seemed that neither of us wanted to let go. Indeed, neither of us got completely soft.
Realizing that we could not really spend the rest of our lives that way, I released first. I twisted around on the bed until we were face to face.
We just stayed that way for a while with neither of us speaking, eyes locked and sparkling.
"That was amazing," Rich said at last.
"No kidding," I replied.
I don't really know what made me do it, because it was an extremely risky manouver on my part. In any case, I moved forward and kissed Rich quckly on his lips.
Rich's eyes grew wide. I panicked, knowing that I had crossed the line with this star jock.
He raised his arm, and I thought for a moment that he was going to punch me. Instead, he roughly grasped the back of my head and pulled me forward until our lips met.
This kiss was anything but brief. He clutched me as if I might be trying to escape. I definitely had no intention of running away. Our mouths began to open, and I felt his tongue offer a tentative probe. I did the same to his mouth.
The turn taking must have lasted minutes, before we succumbed to a sort of playful tongue duel and a fit of giggles. We laughed so hard that tears were streaming from our eyes. Eventually we settled down, silently realizing that the romantic part of our time together had come to an end for now.
As I walked Rich to the door, he said, "Can we hang out sometimes?"
"Sure man," I said trying to summon some machismo to my fourteen year old voice.
"How about a sleepover tomorrow night?" he asked.
"I'll have to ask my parents, but they'll say 'yes.'"
"Cool. My parents and little brother are visiting my aunt and won't be home until sometime after midnight," Rich explained with a twinkle.
"I'll be ready," I winked.
"I'm almost ready right now just thinking about it," he laughed.
I watched in the direction he had left until after the driveway dust had settled. I sat down on the living room sofa and just grinned. It was as if my life had really begun, now.
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