Date: Thu, 18 Jun 2015 13:27:00 -0400
From: Andrew Phillips <andrewphil69@gmail.com>
Subject: He and I (Part 19)

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[This series is copyrighted.]


==========================================
He and I

Part 19 -- Making arrangements

Andy:

It was still Tuesday and another busy day: Jogging at 6:00, work 8:00 to
1:00, Sean 1:30 to 3, now swimming practice 5:00 to 6:30. Note to self: I
really love being fucked by Sean.

 Got to practice early, having showered at home.  Took some leisurely
lengths in the pool to loosen up.  Gradually the other team members showed
up joining me.  This time I paid more attention to Tim than I had in the
past.  He was his usual outgoing self.  He was working in his father's law
office this summer and was paler than those of us who worked outside, but
looked in good shape.  He was very conscientious about working out in the
gym daily.

Tommy came just before practice began.  He hardly made eye contact with me,
and blushed a bit when he did.  Coach Allcock showed up and, looking out
over the pool, not at me, scratched his right ear, briefly.

As I lifted myself out of the pool, water running off my body, I rubbed my
chin, briefly.  I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, a flitting smile
crossed Sean's face.  He surely had much to smile about considering our
afternoon delight.

Practice went well.  Remembering my promise to Tommy I had come up with the
perfect excuse to get them together.

After we changed into our street clothes I walked over to Tim and suggested
we go out for a pizza and talk about the 4×100 meter medley relay.  [As a
backstroker Tim would start it off, followed by the breaststroke (Tommy!),
then the butterfly (me) and, finally, the freestyler who would use a front
crawl stroke (a newcomer, around 20, named Jim who shaves his body).
Conveniently Tommy swam the breaststroke, sandwiched between Tim and me.
The key to winning a relay was to accurately judge the time the swimmer in
the water touches the wall.  Taking off too soon and you'd be disqualified,
too late and you lose time.  That takes a lot of practice to make it
perfect. ]

Tim, being both very competitive and social, thought that was a great idea
and the four of us arranged to meet at Gino's at 6 that evening.

When I got there Tim and Jim had already arrived.  Tommy was loitering
outside, apparently waiting for me, so we entered together.  I arranged for
Tim and Tommy to sit side by side on the bench, while Jim and I took chairs
opposite.  After comparing our individual best times we agreed that we
would make an awesome foursome.  Somehow swimmers perform better in a relay
than in an individual race owing to a team spirit atmosphere. As a result,
relay times are typically 2--3 second faster than the sum of best times of
individual swimmers, and Jim would be a fantastic final leg.

Tim changed the subject to talk about "his" Martens and how they were on a
winning streak of 6 games, and how their new shortstop hit three doubles
the previous Sunday.  "He really has the talent of getting to second base,"
Tim said with a laugh.  "He is really a hot hitter."

"Yeah, he's really hot in other ways," Jim murmured under his breath,
continuing, "I'd like to get to second base with *him*."  I couldn't
believe my ears.  Who was this guy?  Was he serious?  Apparently I was the
only one to hear him.  I gave him a quick sideways glance.   He caught my
eye and gave me a sort of conspiratorial smile.  Was he playing with me?

Meanwhile Tommy found the courage to tell Tim how much he also liked the
Martens, and they began an animated discussion of the team's prospects this
coming summer.  I just leaned back, listening.

Meanwhile Jim was scanning the joint.  He turned to me and said, "You come
here often?"

"Yeah, it's like a local institution."  Then I asked him where he was from,
etc.  He said he was new to town having finished two years of training at a
community college as a lab tech.  He was working at the local blood bank.
He was hoping to finish a pre-med degree at the university in Springfield,
but had to save up some money first.  He said he was renting an apartment
on the north side of town, near Fair Oaks Park.

I told him I jog the trails up there, and he'd be welcome to join.  He
responded, after a long pause, "That would be great."  He looked me over, I
felt judgmentally.  I had no idea what he was thinking, but I don't think
he thought I was as hot as the Martens new shortstop.  I was careful to
show absolutely no interest in him.

That's not to say Jim was not good looking. He was about 5'11", sharp
featured with a cleft chin and green eyes.  He was quite confident, almost
arrogant. He was in good shape but seemed to have a bit of a chip on his
shoulder.  I think he thought he was more mature, world-wise, than this
little blond kid.  Yet, I feel he would be a good addition to the relay
team, since he was so damn fast.  But I don't know how well he would fit in.

"Thanks, I really would like that!" I heard Tommy say with a big grin to
something Tim just told him.  I asked what was up, and Tommy said that Tim
had invited him to go with him to the next Martens game, this coming
Thursday night.

I was pleased that my matchmaking was making progress.   I got up and said
I was off.  As I was about to leave, Jim came up to me and asked, "If
you're going to jog tomorrow could I join you?"  I told him that I jogged
at 6 AM, before work, every day and we agreed to meet at the park the next
day.  For some reason I got the feeling that it took him some time to get
up the nerve to ask me.  I wondered why.

Sean:

Tuesday practice went well.  I had collected myself, had a cold shower, and
was all business by the time I got there.  Andy and I exchanged our signals
for the first time in public.  That was surely no substitute for holding
him in my arms, but memories of only a few hours ago were still vivid.

The team was getting better, and our medley relay team looked especially
promising.  The newest team member, Jim Weaver, had extraordinary times.
Maybe shaving your whole body *was* the secret.

Meanwhile my sex life was in turmoil.  I was getting tired, putting out for
both Joyce, who had quite an insatiable appetite, and Andy, who was still
going strong, tirelessly demanding new innovations.  There was a limit to
my mind's power to overcome my physical limits, but I couldn't be faulted
for not giving my all.

Andy:

Wednesday, up early and got to the park right at 6.  Jim was already
there.  We set off at a comfortable jog and after 5 km took a break.  He
was quiet, perhaps in a mood.  I thought he was about to tell me something,
then clammed up.  This happened a couple of times and he finally came out
and said, barely audibly, "God, I need me some sex."

What?  Did I hear him right?  I turned to him and gave a questioning look.
He looked miserable, his face devoid of color.  He avoided making eye
contact.

Finally, he spoke up, still with his eyes down, "I really need...need to get
laid."  Then he looked up at me, tears welling up and rolling down his
cheeks.

I told him that a good looking guy like him should have no trouble finding
a willing woman.

He said he wanted to be the one getting fucked.  That he wanted some cock
up his rear and bringing him to organism.

Why was he talking to me?  Did he know something of my, uh, sexual
preferences?  But he continued, "it would be just like you fucking your
girlfriend, but it would be me."  He paused, "Like her giving you a blow
job, but with a tighter orifice."

He then added, "You've gotten a blow job from your girlfriend, haven't you?"

I ignored this question, and asked him why didn't he just jack off, or use
a dildo.

He then told me of meeting a guy in community college who came out to him.
He realized that he had always been attracted to guys but having grown up
in a small rural town had never had the opportunity to do more than
masturbate to Playgirl centerfolds.  So his first gay experience was with
this guy.  Soon he experienced being fucked and it was like no other
experience he had ever had, sending him into a sublime ecstasy that was
"out of this world."  He tried lots of other things: giving and receiving
blow jobs, screwing guys, but nothing came close to being fucked.  He was
addicted.

He told me he knew nobody here and I had been friendly and was good
looking.  So he asked me to fuck him.  As a favor!  He even assumed I was
straight.  I was not about to dispute that assumption, but was willing to
help him out for my own reasons.

"Let me think about it," I said.  I added, "Isn't that how you can get
AIDS?"

Jim responded that he was healthy, but that he had condoms for my "peace of
mind", and pointed out that "sodomy was a lot riskier to the fuckee than
the fucker."

"I'm not sure about this," I demurred, showing my reluctance and my (false)
naïveté.

"Please, just try it, for me, for the relay team," he pleaded.  Weird what
he thought I would do for the team!

But I had only experienced anal sex with Sean and liked it.  Frankly I
loved all the sex we had had.  But would it be the same with another guy?
My curiosity was peaked.  Could I get the same pleasure from an act of lust
as I had gotten from `making love?'

I said, "Lets finish the jog and I'll give you an answer."  He perked up,
and off we went.

By the time we got back to the car park I had decided to help him out, as
`an act of charity,' of course.  I was running a little late, so I told him
I'd meet him at his apartment the next day at 6 AM.  He gave me his address
and phone number, and seemed a lot more relaxed and almost happy as he
left.  "Thanks, Andy, I really appreciate this."   Damn right, I intended
to use this "appreciation" in other ways.

I watched him as he walked away, broad shoulders, narrow waist, great
butt.  I had not had a chance to see what his Speedo™ or running shorts
held and was curious.  I looked forward to seeing him aroused and lusting
for me, or at least for my bod.

Next:  Part 20 -- An exhausting Thursday