Date: Fri, 12 Jun 2015 14:02:18 -0400 From: Andrew Phillips Subject: He and I (Part 18) The saga continues. Would appreciate any feedback or questions you might have (andrewphil69@gmail.com). Stay hard, Drew ============================================================== Part 18 Andy (Me): The meet went well. It was the first competition of the season and both teams performed well. Luckily we won overall, though Chad narrowly won the diving with a last minute, high value dive. The combination of dives displayed the high definition of his gymnastic body, a body I looked forward to exploring in the future. The trip home was uneventful, Sean appearing lost in thought much of the time. He hardly said a word. As we approached my home he reminded me of our practice after work on Tuesday. "Could we, well, get together, maybe for lunch on Tuesday. I know an out of the way place. I'll give you a call." I replied, "Sure, I'd like that." Little more was said, but I got the feeling that we would do more than eat, my heart missing a beat while my balls stirred. We came to my home. As I reached back for my duffle, our cheeks rubbed and he stole a quick kiss. Then he rubbed my chin, I scratched his right ear, and jumped out of the car. Monday was the first day of work at Green Pastures. It was a hot one. I arrived early, at 7:30, at the nursery. The idea was we'd put in 5 hours early each day to avoid much of the heat. I saw that I was one of 5 other young guys, one of whom was my teammate, Tommy Olsen. Our first assignment was a major landscaping job on the outskirts of town. By midmorning we were all stripped to our waists and sweating profusely. By 1 PM our workday was over and Tommy and I went to the sandwich place nearby. As we sat with our foot-long subs and 32 ounce drinks something seemed to be on Tommy's mind. After talking about the new jobs he hesitantly said, "Can I talk frankly with you?" Remember, Tommy was not a talkative person, so I was surprised and said he could. "I got the feeling last week that you might be someone I could confide in. I never told you how much I appreciated how you welcomed me when I first came here two years ago. I guess I am a little shy, but I don't know if I would have met anyone if it had not been for you. Once I joined the swim team I was able to get to know some others a bit, but you were the friendliest and about the only one I spoke to." I thanked him for his compliment awaiting what would come next. "But now I have a problem. There's a person I really would like to get to know better, but I don't know how to, well, tell..." I saw that he was blushing, the flush of red spreading over his neck and face, and even showing through his blond crew cut. "Maybe you could help," he continued. "So you're the secret admirer of someone who doesn't know you exist? Who is she?" I asked. "Well, I didn't say that exactly," he stammered. "What exactly to you mean?" I pushed him. "Well I know the person a little and" and after a long pause "it isn't a `she'." It appeared to me that as he got that out he was prepared to flinch, almost expecting me to take a shot at him. "Okay," I said, as matter-of-factly as I could. "First who is it and why are you asking me about it?" I was determined to calm him down. This interest of his seemed to mean a lot to him and I didn't want to discourage him. Tommy, although very shy, was physically attractive with a nice manner and a winning, boyish smile. His shyness sort of made him neutral, neither flirting with girls nor paling around with guys. I never thought of him as interested in sexual things. But I should have known better. These Baptists, sort of like the Mormons, kept a lot bottled up, out of view. I had no idea what the fantasies, let alone the sexual orientations, of such guys. Maybe I was getting ahead of myself, since I had not the slightest idea why he wanted to get to know some guy better. It could just be to have someone to hang out with. Maybe this whole gay thing was warping my mind and I (wishfully?) saw a fag around every corner. As I waited for his answers I started thinking: Was he coming out? Did he have a crush on me? (What kind of selfish egotist was I!?) Anyway, if I were the object of his interest I don't think he would be talking to me like this. I guess from our brief contact last Thursday that he might think I would be, mmm, sympathetic. And I have to admit I would be. But now I was just curious. I waited as all sorts of emotions seemed to pass over him. Was he considering dropping this whole matter? I think he realized he had gone to far to back off. Finally, after about four minutes of silence, he whispered, "Tim." "Tim?" "Tim Weaver, our teammate." Was I disappointed that I wasn't the one? Frankly I was very relieved. Sean, my love, and Chad, my lust, were quite enough, at least for now. "And, I thought you seemed to be very accepting and friendly, and I never heard you say anything prejudicial about anyone, black or white, Catholic or Protestant, gay or straight. So I assumed you wouldn't be judgmental. And I needed to talk to someone! I had thought about talking directly to Tim, but I just couldn't get up the courage, and I thought you..." he trailed off. He didn't even suggest that he had any suspicions about my sexual preferences, and this was surely not the time to introduce them. That didn't mean he didn't have some inkling, it just wasn't what was on his mind. Clearly Tim was what was on his mind. Tim Weaver was a really nice guy, about 5'8", a lean, buff 140 pounds, mainly a backstroker; brown hair and brown eyes with a sunny disposition. And, by the way, well hung. Not a great scholar but into all sorts of sports. He was always talking MLB and NBA news, and was an avid fan of our local minor league class A team, the Martens. He peppered his conversations with lots of sports metaphors. He was also very popular having been elected class president in his senior year and prom king. His father was a lawyer and his mother a librarian. He had a younger sister. Nice family. I had gotten to know Tim on the swim team, as I wasn't into school politics. I had never thought of him as even possibly gay, though he threw out a few vibes last week as he returned that exploratory stare I shot at my fellow teammates. Finally, Tommy spoke up again haltingly, "Would you, could you, possibly talk to him on my behalf?" I was intrigued. "What do you want me to say? That Tommy has a crush on you?" "No, no, no. Nothing so direct. How about just seeing if the three of us could go out for a pizza?" "Wouldn't that give him the idea that *I* was into him?" I argued. I paused. Then I relented. I told shy Tommy that I might could make such an off hand suggestion after practice on Tuesday and see what happens. "We just have to get the two of you together in some relaxed, informal place and see if any sparks fly," I added assuringly. But I was not sure I had much confidence. But, hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Tommy seemed pleased at my proposal. And I just figured out how to approach Tim. Sean (him): Longing for Andy, that's been my perpetual state since Sunday. Tuesday morning I called him and found out his schedule. Team practice was at 5, he got off work at 1, so we arranged to meet at the home of a teacher colleague of mine who was out of town. She had asked if I'd feed her cat, so I had use of her home for the next two weeks. Amazing how opportunity knocks. I told Andy to meet me there after work. He showed up at 1:30, still in his work clothes, his sweaty T-shirt affixed to his torso. What a wonderful sight! We embraced, kissed, tightly, violently, passionately, our bodies grinding together. Speechlessly we began stripping one another, first his shirt, then mine, unbuckling jeans, slipping them off, Calvin Klein bikini briefs abutting Tommy Hilfiger boxers and quickly removed, our hands grabbing each the others' butts, pulling, thrusting; our mouths smothering each others' chests, nipples, pits. Out of control. After a couple of minutes of this sexual wrestling we came up for air, gasping with our yet unsatisfied desires. "Not so fast," I said, not sure whether I was addressing Andy or myself. We were by now stretched out on the living room rug. I suggested we move to an upstairs bedroom, easier to clean up if we, well, distributed any bodily fluids. By the time we got there our hard-ons were detumescent, but we resumed our exertions and it took no time to get them up. I had turned Andy on his belly and was rimming him while running my hands up the sides of this body, stroking his armpits. His salty, musky, sweaty hole tasted fantastic and really turned me on. He moaned with pleasure as my chest forced his legs apart and my tongue continued its explorations; then I adding a load of my saliva and fingering his taut entrance. I could sense him relaxing expectantly. Finally I rolled over, expertly slipping on a condom, rolled back and slowly but surely penetrated his anus. Slow and steady I slid smoothly in till reaching my hilt, then rhythmically increased the pace till he was shouting in pleasure. I had reached around, forcing my hand under his muscled abdomen to grab his throbbing cock. After a few more lusty thrusts, I came repeatedly. I pulled out and flipped him over, his penis still erect and bobbing. I obligingly engulfed it, my teeth and tongue massaging it gently, the tip of my tongue exploring his penile slit. Then, as I deep-throated his member I brought him to a series of voluminous orgasms, swallowing as much of his delicious cum as I could. I rolled off onto my back, removed my condom and allowed the semen to flow out onto my chest. Andy said he had not yet had lunch and lapped up the cum off my hairy chest, tonguing my nipples while he was at it. Thus we each had something for lunch. Very satisfying.