Date: Tue, 9 Apr 2002 14:27:15 EDT
From: Botpuppy@aol.com
Subject: The Kid in the Bar, Part 8

The Kid at the Bar
Part 8

By botpuppy@aol.com

A week has gone by now, and still Mark hasn't come on to me, asking to suck
my dick. I wonder if he really could have fallen for a line from Jack
Collins. I've seen Collins around campus and he is an impressive guy, with a
sexy swagger about him and even the way he walks. I've asked around, though,
and although all the guys admit that he's tops in gymnastics, he seems to
have a reputation as a hard ass. But Mark wears that cock strap on his wrist
all the time, like an engagement ring or something. He is my room mate, and I
keep thinking that I should warn him about it: He isn't swishy at all, but
he's cute enough that it doesn't take a lot of imagination to figure him out
for a one- way bottom. Cripes, even a straight guy would recognize a cock
strap for what it is, and why wear one on your wrist?


Jack and I had become great friends in the two years since we've been
roommates. I often wondered why he never went home for the holidays, but he
never volunteered any explanation, and I never asked. He had joined me and my
family back home for Christmas and Thanksgiving, and he spent two weeks with
me last summer before going back to school to work as a lifeguard at the
beach.

I had fixed him up with a girl or two while he visited, and we all had great
times. But back at school, he seemed more interested in guys. I have to admit
that scene with him and that kid Mark had got me very interested in gay sex,
although the guy who had suggested that a while ago would have had some loose
teeth pretty fast.



I wonder why Jack hasn't called me or anything. I think of him all the time
and I can't wait to be able to get in his bed again. I even fantasizing about
him sticking his beautiful cock up my ass. I wonder what it feels like to get
fucked. When I try to stick my finger in my hole, I can't get in more than
the first knuckle and even that's painful, so I guess that a cock as thick as
Jack's would hurt badly. But I'd take it gladly if that were what he wanted.
Or if all he wanted from me were another session with him in my mouth and
throat, that would satisfy me. Damn, I miss him.

Ten days now, and still no call. I had to at least see him, so when I read in
the school paper that there was a gymnastics competition Wednesday at home, I
got there early to be sure of a good seat. Even an hour before the start, the
closest I could get was the third row. With the national press covering each
event, and predicting a state title this year, and the possibility of Jack in
the summer Olympics, the campus was unusually excited about our team that
year. By the time the meet began, the stands were packed, and I was happy to
get so close to the action.

The teams came in, our team wearing singlets in royal blue. Jack and Steve
walked side by side, casually chatting and pretty much ignoring the cheers.
The deep blue complimented both of them, each deeply tanned, Jack with his
dark good looks, and Steve with that blond hair. The first event was the
pommel horse, and I saw why these guys had such beautiful bodies right away.
Although, a casual glance would be attracted to the apparent grace of these
boy- men, a closer look showed how much effort and raw strength was required.
The whole gym was filled with the smell of men as the guys went through their
routines. I noticed that a lot of the performers shaved their armpits. I bet
it's because that way, the inevitable sweat wouldn't show just how hard they
were working. And it was easy to figure out that part of this sport was to
appear as if these incredible stunts were effortless.

Jack was up last, the finale of this part of the competition. His routine was
a complicated series of hand stands, with him supporting his entire weight on
one hand at a time, while swaying from one side of the horse to another in
increasingly rapid movements. His thighs and legs tight together resembling a
metronome increasing it's tempo, then slowing to a stop perfectly vertical as
he gripped the pommel with both hands and pushed off backwards. In the air,
he did three flips as he made his descent to the gym floor.

It was a beautiful movement and the crowd was on its feet cheering wildly.
But as he landed, he hit hard in just one leg, and stumbled slightly. The
crowd hushed as if holding its breath. He didn't fall down, but he was in
obvious pain. Steve and a trainer dashed out and supported him as he hobbled
off the floor before the judges tried to decide on his score. The dismount
was awkward, but his routine was so daring that it might just compensate.

The locker room was off limits so I decided to walk over to his dorm and
wait, hoping that he wouldn't need to be be hospitalized. But one way or
another, I had to find out if he was all right. In about an hour, a limo
pulled up in front of the dorm, and Steve got out, then reached in to help
Jack. They were still in their singlets, and Jack's ankle was taped from his
foot to mid-thigh. He held his arm around Steve's shoulder and together they
were making their way to the dorm entrance as I hurried to help out. Jack
wrapped his other arm around me and the three of us went in.

We got him to the room and helped him to sit on the sofa. "Hey kid, pour me
about two fingers from that bottle of Black Jack, will ya?" I got him a glass
from behind the bar, and handed him the drink. "Thanks Mark. Came down hard
that time, Just a sprain though, nothing broken. But I guess that dismount
cost me plenty." "Not so bad, Jack, most guys would be happy with a 9.3, the
judges thought your routine was so daring, it made up for a lot." He seemed
pleased with that, and took another good pull on his whiskey.

"Good for what ails me babe. The doc wanted to shoot me up with some dope for
the pain but I prefer this stuff. Gimme a hand so I can get on my bed and get
outta this soggy singlet and my jock strap." We made our way to his room, and
he sat heavily on his unmade bed. "Let me help, Jack, keep your weight off
your ankle", and I knelt to unlace his gym shoes and pulled off his socks. He
had freed his arms from the singlet, and I thought how appropriately named
these suits were. "Just pull it off now, kid."

I was getting to like his calling me kid; somehow it seemed so affectionate.
I let my eyes wander up and down over his body; then, "shall I pull your jock
off too?" "Yeah, first pull the straps down from my ass cheeks", and he
raised up off the bed slightly. As I reached under him to free the straps, my
hands brushed his butt, and I felt the familiar yearning for him again. I
slid the jock free, and placed it on the bed with his singlet, seeing him
naked again, but for the first time without an erection.

I felt myself tingling all over, and seizing the moment bent down to kiss his
limp cock. "Yeah, kid, kiss it and make your man feel better." I buried my
nose in his crotch, kissing along his shaft and his balls, then underneath to
that tender flesh near his ass crack. His dick was steadily lengthening and
thickening, and I had just taken it between my lips when Steve came in.


I had planned 4 more chapters, but I need to know if you guys are enjoying
this story in order to continue. So let me know what you think.

Botpuppy@aol.com