Date: Wed, 17 Oct 2018 15:49:35 -0400
From: Carter Podeski <carterpodeski@gmail.com>
Subject: The Brownstone On Union Park: Chapter 19 (revised)

GENERAL DISCLAIMER: This story contains sexual situations between adult
males involving various aspects of the kink and fetish communities. If
you find material of this nature offensive then you should not read any
further. All characters in this story are over the age of 21. If you are
under 18 years old in the US or under 16 in the UK you are not legally
allowed to read this story. This is purely a work of fiction, any
resemblance to persons living or dead, or to any events that may have
occurred, are purely coincidental. The author claims all copyrights in
this story and no duplication or publication of this story is allowed
(except by the websites to which it has been posted) without the consent
of the author. Nifty does not exist without donations. If you enjoy
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CONTACT/FEEDBACK: I enjoy getting feedback and I try to incorporate as
many suggestions about the story and characters into subsequent chapters
whenever possible. Feel free to e-mail me at carterpodeski@gmail.com.

________________________________________________________________________

                     The Brownstone on Union Park

                         - Chapter Nineteen -

Carter pushed Michael's body near the pillows and with some effort was
able to peel down the top sheet that he formerly was on top of. It was
just one button and a zipper. That's all it would take to get his shorts
off. He looked again studying Michael's face for any signs he might wake
up but saw nothing and proceeded to unbutton his shorts.

He looked back again. Nothing.

Carter unzipped his shorts and pulled them down slowly around his legs
and was finally able to free them from his body. Michael looked beyond
cute like this in bed with nothing more than his bright white underwear.
Carter could feel himself becoming even more aroused now and put his
hands down his own shorts to readjust his package pointing his own dick
upward. He knew he had to leave soon else he would be in trouble.

Carter covered up Michael with the sheet halfway and jokingly placed the
Chandler Cheetah in his arms while he adjusted the pillows to cradle his
head. He finished drawing up the sheets to his neck area and turned
around to exit the bedroom and made his way to the door.

He reached the door and glanced back one last time. It was an adorable
sight to see and Michael looked so at peace snuggled up in bed with the
stuffed animal at his side. Carter wanted so badly to jump in bed with
him but knew it would complicate things more than either of them needed
at the moment. So, he turned off the lights, shut the door, and left.

                              ***

The next morning Carter's alarm on his phone woke him up promptly at
seven-o-clock like it did most weekdays. He stretched his arms, yawned,
flipped over on his back, and let go of the long red body pillow that he
hugged all night long. The daylight was beginning to stream in from the
sides of the window shades into his bedroom. Carter grabbed his phone
from the nightstand, got out of bed, naked, and raised the blinds. It
was a halfway decent day but looked like it might rain any second with
glimpses of clouds punctuating gray-blue skies.

He walked out of his bedroom not bothering to put anything on and
entered the bathroom that separated his room from James' bedroom without
closing the door. Carter flipped on the lights and shook his head awake
while turning on the hot water faucet; it would take about a minute for
the water to become tepid and another before it was actually hot. He
then entered the toilet closet and flipped up the seat to take his
traditional morning two-minute piss. It was always about the perfect
time it took for the faucet water to get up to the proper temperature.
He flushed the toilet and noticed how strong the odor of his urine was
as it permeated the small area. Carter exited the private toilet stall
to return to his sink at the dual vanity where the water was pouring out
of the faucet creating downward cascades of steam. He briefly lowered
his head into the steam basin of the sink and inhaled deeply and thought
to himself, "Good morning world, it's going to be a good day today."

Carter lifted his head up and grabbed a thick white cotton washcloth
from a chrome basket in the center of the vanity and soaked it in the
steaming water. He promptly wrung it out and pressed it over his face as
it began to open up his pores. The warmth of the wet washcloth against
his skin always felt like the perfect way to start the day with the heat
and moisture permeating every inch of his face. He breathed in heavily
while trying to soak in all heat and then exhaled through his nose; the
area near his nostrils with the air exchange occurred felt noticeably
cooler than the rest of the washcloth as he dragged it down over his
lips. He discarded it on the side of the sink and applied some
moisturizer to his face paying special attention to the areas under his
eyes and forehead.

"Got to look energetic and alive today...," he thought and exited the
bathroom throwing the used washcloth in the hamper in the linen closet
on the way back to his bedroom.

Carter grabbed his phone and found the e-mail with his flight itinerary
that James booked the night before as well as a text with the hotel's
address. The flight out of Logan airport was not until seven-eighteen
that evening and it appeared that James was somehow able to secure an
exit row seat for Carter and his long legs. He made a mental note to
thank James for that later on when he saw him in New Orleans that
evening. He found a pair of gym shorts in his clean pile of clothes that
sat unfolded in his laundry basket at the base of his bed and put them
on. On his way downstairs, he transferred the pile of clean but damp
clothes from the washer into the dryer from the previous night and
started the dry cycle. Hopefully, they would dry in time before he had
to leave in the morning for work. Given the departure time at the
airport, he needed to be there around six at night which would mean he
would have to leave by five-thirty at the latest to make it to the
airport in East Boston in rush hour traffic. So, the possibility of
coming back home to pack was now non-existent.

Carter entered the kitchen and took out a large glass from the corner
cabinet. He filled it with filtered water from the fridge and a pinch of
pink Himalayan sea salt kept in the salt pig on the counter by the
spices. Rehydrating was key after sleep and a little sea salt with its
rich mineral stores in some water did a better job than water alone. He
stirred the salt water mixture with a spoon and let it swirl as the
large pink crystals continued to dissolve. Carter could feel his extreme
thirst and drank as much as he could, leaving about a half inch of water
on the bottom with the remaining salt and discarded the extra in the
sink.

The microwave clock read seven twelve and Carter knew he still needed to
pack and get ready for his flight out of Logan. He grabbed a protein
shake from the fridge and began to shake it vigorously while he turned
on the espresso machine and let it heat up. He really wanted to pull a
shot of fresh espresso then but knew he did not have the time and began
to make his way upstairs and got in the shower. The steam button to the
shower remained off as he quickly showered in just a few minutes paying
special attention to his pits and groin region; the body odor from last
night from all the sweating during the moving process hung on him.
Carter grabbed a warm cotton towel from the heated towel rack and dried
himself off. There would be no time to shave today, but his scruff
looked good, and after all, it was a Friday. So, he grabbed the protein
shake that rested on the vanity and downed it in a few gulps and exited
the bathroom with the towel slung over his shoulder and the gym shorts
in his right hand.

The hamper in the linen closet was full so he emptied it into the
washing machine, added the towel he just used from the shower and
started a "whites" cycle wondering if it would wake Michael. Carter was
still naked, with only his gym shorts in hand, and about five steps away
from his bedroom when he heard the stairs creak from above.

Michael was already awake.

Carter did not even bother to put his shorts back on or hide his front.
There really was no point after last Friday night when they slept naked
in his bed all night and then took a very intimate shower together.

"Good morning, how was your first night's sleep in your new room on the
new bed?" asked Carter as if talking to Michael completely naked was a
normal routine.

"OK. I got a little hot on the mattress though," Michael replied in
nothing but his tight white briefs, "But the sheets were so soft, I
loved them. Thanks again for those."

Michael tried to avert his eyes away from Carter's waistline. It was not
anything new he had not seen before but he struggled to maintain eye
contact with him as they continued their conversation.

"Well, you can crank the AC tonight on the top floor and see if that
helps," Carter said and looked back at the bathroom, "I'm all set in
there if you need it."

"Thanks," Michael replied and walked past Carter.

Carter then walked into his bedroom and shut the door. He opened up his
dresser drawer and put on one of his soft cotton fashion jocks and over
that, the pair of gym shorts he wore down to the kitchen. Carter loved
the way the jockstrap held his package and allowed him to move his legs
freely. He thought again about Michael's old school style white briefs
and how they reminded him of being back at middle school gym class. It
seemed all young men had those same white briefs at that time in their
lives, or at least when he grew up they did. Another mental note
occurred to him: James needed to take him on a shopping trip when they
got back.

He threw his work duffel bag on the bed and began to pack it for the
day: a change of clothes for later, his work laptop in its foam
protective case, and a couple of clipboards full of therapy regimens for
his student-athletes in recovery he updated the previous evening. Carter
took another duffel bag from his closet and hurriedly packed for the
trip to New Orleans: socks, underwear, jocks, T-shirts, tank tops,
running shoes, shorts, jeans, light jacket, and his toiletry kit that
was well stocked with a three-ounce bottle of travel lube and condoms.
Carter zipped up both bags and left his room as he noted the time of the
clock on his wall: seven thirty-two; he would have time to eat a real
breakfast downstairs.

The bathroom door was closed and he could hear Michael showering inside.
Carter was hoping to get a chance to talk to him before he left for work
since he would not be returning that evening. Part of him felt a little
bad for not being around this Labor Day weekend, he was actually looking
forward to spending some time with Michael and showing him around the
neighborhood before he started his new job but it would have to wait.

Carter placed both duffel bags by the side of the couch and went back to
the espresso machine and began to start the burr grinder which promptly
dispensed fresh coffee grounds into the portafilter. He tamped down the
grounds, secured it under the grouphead while placing a white porcelain
cup underneath, and started the machine. It gurgled and whined and then
the beautiful dark rich espresso began to emerge from the bottom of the
portafilter in two darks streams into his cup. A moment later and the
crema layer flowed out and capped off the top. The machine stopped and
he brought the tiny cup up to his lips and deeply inhaled smelling the
complex notes of the new coffee beans he recently added to the hopper
above.

"Mmmmm..." he thought, "How would I ever make it throughout the day if I
didn't have this to wake up to."

He savored the first sip letting it hang over his tongue and closed his
eyes to further heighten the sensory experience. Eventually, he
swallowed and placed the tiny cup back down on the counter with a dainty
clink.

Carter would not have the time to make his traditional full breakfast
with a vegetable egg white omelet so he decided to cheat and go carb and
fat heavy instead. He pulled out a sleeve of bagels that he kept in the
fridge and a jar of his all-natural almond butter along with another
protein shake. He opened the bagels and broke one in half and began to
toast it. The jar of almond butter had not been used for a while and the
oils began to separate requiring it to be stirred. While the bagel
toasted he did his best to agitate the jar of almond butter with a knife
and noted that the bottom of the jar was super dense while the oils on
the top were very liquid. It was only about a week ago that he last used
it but it seemed like it settled and separated awfully quickly this
time.

The bagel popped up from the toaster and he started to smear the almond
butter over the face of each side. He reassembled them back together as
if the gritty nut butter was glue and began to eat it over the sink. The
now molten almond butter began to run out of the bagel sandwich and a
glob landed in the sink. If James were home and saw this he would have
been quickly admonished for not using a plate. But James was not at
home. A few large bites later and the bagel was gone. Carter finished
off the small espresso cup and placed it in the dishwasher while
prepping the second protein shake by shaking it vigorously. He glanced
at the clock and decided to drink it on the way and quickly put on his
Chaco sandals and threw the drink in his work duffel bag. He would have
time to drink it later on the way into Chandler.

Carter glanced back at the kitchen while he picked up both bags and
could faintly hear the door to the bathroom upstairs being opened.
Michael was finished but Carter did not have the time to say a goodbye
or explain his absence this weekend from his last-minute trip. It would
be easier to simply leave and text or call later. So, he just left and
walked down the stairs to with the two duffel bags in hand.

***

Michael walked back up to the level of his bedroom on the top floor with
a towel still wrapped around his waist and down the narrow hallway
passage to his actual room. Most of his clothes were still in boxes and
the simple matter of picking out something to wear was not an easy one.
However, being overly organized, and a little OCD, he was quickly able
to find the box that marked his clothing and proceeded to rip apart the
packaging tape that held it together. The first strip with an overhang
of tape came up easily but the subsequent ones took a considerable
amount of effort as his short fingernails took some maneuvering to
effectively grasp the start of it.

He eventually opened the box and realized how much simpler the task
would have been if he had a simple kitchen knife to cut the edges. When
he unpacked the rest of the boxes he would do that, but, for the purpose
of getting dressed, it was fine. Michael pushed the box over to the side
of the room with the dresser and built-in cubby holes and shelving and
began to take out his items, trying to find appropriate spots to put
them. Later on, he would probably have more time to optimize things, but
for now, the name of the game was to just unpack. He found his
underclothes: socks, undershirts, Hanes white briefs on the top section
and began to carefully place them in the cubby holes on top of the
recessed area that served as a closet with a bar for hangers. Granted it
looked a little childish with his underwear so exposed like that but who
would see it besides himself?

Getting to the bottom of the box he found his stack of Denizen Target
jeans, thick corded corduroy pants, thick sweaters, along with part of
his summer shorts; each item was folded like it were to be placed on the
top of a table in a retail clothing store. He would not be reaching for
most of these things every day until the weather began to cool down more
and placed in them in the drawers of the dresser that was left behind.
He saved his summer shorts for another cubby hole next to his underwear.
Michael stepped back to look at his handy work after emptying the first
box in its entirety. There was something satisfying about seeing all of
his things orderly and in place, even though they did not have much
material value. However, they did provide him with a sense of order and
security; there could be no price on that.

He approached the cubby holes again and took out a pair of underwear and
one of the grey colored shorts he just placed there moments ago. He
slipped his phone in his pocket that was charging all night that sat by
the floor on the side of his bed. A new nightstand was also on his list
of things to get for the new room. Michael was now officially getting
dressed in his own bedroom for the first time and it felt wonderful to
do so. Before he did anymore unboxing and unpacking he wanted to go
downstairs and get a knife from the kitchen and possibly something to
eat. So, he left the room shirtless wearing his only his grey shorts and
started to descend the steps to the level below remembering to take the
towel with him to place in the linen hamper.

The sound of the washing machine chugging away on the load of whites
that Carter put in before was well underway. Michael opened the linen
closet door and placed the used towel in the empty hamper while getting
four more crisply stacked towels from the shelving above. The entire
idea of only using a towel once still seemed ludicrous to him by college
standards. He was lucky to have a clean towel once a week when he did
his laundry. It really did seem like he was living at a hotel based on
this lifestyle but who was he to argue with the rules that James set up.
It was his place after all.

Michael walked into the bathroom and placed the towels on the rack that
was still warm from when he took his shower before. Apparently, the
heating element was activated when the shower water was turned on and
shut off after it ceased. All four towels hung on the rack, with two per
side delicately draped over the other in a cascading pattern. Visually
everything looked like it was in perfect order and Michael let out a
faint sigh of relief.

His pocket began to vibrate as his phone buzzed and notified him that he
had an incoming call. He placed his hand in the pocket and took out the
phone to see that it was actually Carter calling him; Michael quickly
accepted and brought the phone to his ear.

"Hey Michael, sorry I didn't get a chance to say goodbye today. I was in
a rush."

"It's fine, I know you had to get to work."

"Yeah, so, long story short, I'm actually flying out of Boston tonight
to meet up with James in New Orleans this weekend. It's kind of a
last-minute thing."

"Oh, cool. That's sounds great."

"So, because of my schedule today I'm not going to have the time to come
back to the South End. In fact, I'm going straight from work to the
airport later on today."

"OK."

"So, here's the thing. I was packing quickly this morning and didn't get
everything that I needed to bring and forgot some stuff. It's not
crucial but it would be great if I could get it. Is there any chance you
wouldn't mind meeting up with me at Chandler today and dropping some
things off?"

"Um, sure. I'm free. Is there a bag somewhere in your room or
downstairs?"

"Actually, I'll need you to go into my bedroom with me on the phone
because I honestly don't know where some of these things are."

Michael could sense the awkward tension in Carter's voice but could not
easily pinpoint the source of his uncomfortableness. What could be so
weird about his messy room and a few T-shirts or bathing suits he forgot
to pack?

"I'm actually outside your room on the middle level. Do you want me you
to go inside your room now?"

"Yeah, there should be a small navy duffel bag somewhere on the ground
near the side of the bed by the weights."

Michael looked around where he said but did not see anything obvious
matching that description. He checked underneath the bed but just found
some old laundry and clothes that probably needed to be laundered again.

"I'm not seeing the navy duffel bag anywhere, or any duffel bag, you
sure it's in your room?"

"OK, don't worry, it doesn't have to be the navy one. I just need a dark
zippered bag. Can you open my closet door and get the one that James
hates because he thinks it smells from old gym clothes?"

"Let me check."

Michael walked to the closet and opened up the door to find one of the
most disorganized messes of clothing falling off hangers, shoeboxes full
of papers, magazines, bags, tubs of protein powder and other random
junk.

"Hey Carter, there's sort of an avalanche of stuff of here. Where
exactly in the closet is it?"

"Check near the right-hand side in the back by the bottom. I think I
threw it in there last time."

Michael moved some things out of the way causing a tower of shoeboxes to
spill out over him and come crashing down to the floor below. He found
the light switch on the side of the door and turned it on. The contents
of the closet became more visible and he was able to locate the gym bag
that he remembered from his first visit in the back where Carter
described it would be.

"I think I found it, it's the black Adidas sports bag, right?"

"Yup that's the one, I know it's kind of nasty by now but can you just
dump whatever is in there out into the closet."

"You mean, just add it to the pile of stuff already there?"

"Yeah, you probably noticed by now that I'm not great at organizing my
stuff."

"If you insist..."

Michael cradled the phone on the side of his head between his ear and
shoulder so he would not break off communication with Carter. He
unzipped the black bag on the top and inverted it by holding the bottom
on each side and giving it a firm shake. Some gym socks, a stick of
deodorant, and a half-empty water bottle fell out right away but the
other items did not lend themselves to effects of gravity.

"Hold on a second, I need to pull out some of your stuff. The bag is
pretty crammed with things"

"Yeah, no problem, Michael."

Michael placed the phone down on the ground and put it on speaker and
proceeded to open up the bag. The smell from the unwashed gym clothing
was getting more powerful as the odor began to permeate the small space
of the closet. The ratio to body odor to classic Carter sandalwood and
bergamot scent had definitely flipped since the last time he smelled it
when his ankle was sprained. Overall, it was more off-putting than
desirable this time around.

He began to investigate the contents of the bag as he carefully took
each article of clothing out: nylon gym shorts, tank top, running pants,
sweatband, sneakers, and nasty shaker bottle with a red plastic cap that
looked like something was growing inside it. Michael made a point of
picking up the shaker bottle and placing it on the floor outside of the
closet, it was slated to go in the sanitize cycle in the dishwasher next
time he had a chance to run it.

"Hold on, I'm just about done emptying your bag out. I found a used
protein shaker bottle but I think there's mold or something growing in
it. It should probably go through the dishwasher."

"Oh, damn! I always forget those things. Yeah. If you wouldn't mind,
that would be great, but I can totally take care of it when I get back."

The bag was almost entirely empty now and Michael gave it a final shake
to check to make sure it was cleared. He noticed there was a small dark
article of clothing left, a black CK cotton stretch jockstrap. The CK
logo in white font ran across the black waistband while elastic straps
designed to connect around the ass terminated in the front of the pouch.
Carter wore this and wore it hard, the soft cotton lost its velvety
touch when Michael rubbed the pouch between his index finger and thumb.
It was somewhat stiff from the dried salty sweat of Carter's workout
session after not having been washed for weeks sitting in the bottom of
the gym bag.

"Everything OK, Michael?"

"Yeah, I just finished clearing out the bag."

Michael looked back at the phone in horror as if somehow the camera were
activated and it turned into a video call. His paranoia was clearly
getting the better of him but it was just a typical audio phone call.
What was he so worried about after all? No one could see him. Without
thinking, Michael stuffed the used fashion jock into the right pocket of
his shorts.

"OK, now what? The bag is empty, what did you want me to pack in here?"

"So, in the closet, look in the very top left of the rack. There should
be a couple of white hangers somewhere in the mix."

Michael glanced at the mess in the closet but the clothing on the
hangers was actually somewhat well maintained despite a few odd shirts
falling off the sides. Almost all the hangers were golden oak wood but
he now saw a few that were painted white and practically hidden in the
corner. He moved in closer and used both hands to push the clothing on
the rack to the right-hand side thereby making room the left.

"OK, I found the white hangers."

"Great, I'll explain later but can you get the, well... The soccer outfit?
It's the white shirt with a black v-neck collar and the thick red
v-stripes going across the whole chest."

Michael took the hanger down from the rack by the metal hook and tried
to slip it off wood but could not easily do manage that simple maneuver.
He then placed the hanger on the bed and noticed as it was set down that
there was a shine to the shirt and something stuffed inside on the pant
rail of the hanger.

"Umm, Carter? I can't easily get the shirt off the hanger, it kind of
feels like it's..."

"Rubber?"

"Yeah..."

"It is, it's latex. You're going to need to be a little gentle with it
and remove the hanger through the bottom of the shirt opening. The
matching white shorts and socks should be on the hanger inside too."

"OK."

Michael reached up inside the shirt and pulled the hanger through the
bottom freeing the shirt. In doing so, he found the matching white
shorts and socks, all of which felt like they were made out of the same
latex material.

The attention to detail was unreal, even the socks contained a similar
red, black, and white striped pattern. From a distance, it looked like
any other boring soccer uniform, but the fact it was constructed of
rubbery latex brought an entirely new dimension of intrigue. It also
faintly smelled like something he was familiar with but could not easily
identify from his memory, something reminded him of Halloween; like a
latex mask.

"Are you sure this is right, Carter? It doesn't look like this is your
size, it seems way too small."

"Yeah, I guarantee you it's right. You know, it does stretch after all.
That's basically the whole point."

"Oh..."

The thought of this soccer uniform stretched all over Carter's body
began to send a shiver down Michael's spine. It was just a piece of
clothing at the end of the day. However, making the transition of the
material from cotton or nylon to latex really began to bring it alive
and redefine its purpose.

Michael started to imagine it being stretched over Carter's torso where
it would cling to his pecs and abdominal muscles. And then there was his
bottom half: the latex top coupled with the matching socks pressed over
his bulging calf muscles and the shorts must have been a sight.

Michael was starting to get hard again and getting more lost in thought.

"You still there, Michael?"

"Yeah, just checking that everything is here. Shirt, shorts, and socks.
It's all good."

"Great, can you take a clean bath towel and roll it up like a jelly roll
with the latex as the jelly? These things can easily get ruined if you
wrinkle them."

"Yeah, I can do that. Let me go get a clean towel now from the closet
and wrap it up."

"Thanks, I appreciate everything you're doing for me right now."

"No problem."

Michael briefly exited the room and returned with a crisp white towel
and laid it down flat on the unmade bed and then placed the outfit on
top of it . He gingerly began to roll up the whole latex soccer uniform
encased in the soft cotton of the towel and it quickly disappeared into
the down white encasement looking like and innocent bathroom linen.e

"OK, what else, Carter?

"Go in my nightstand drawer and get the small clear plastic bottle with
a black label on it."

"OK, I see something here that says, `Passion' on it. Is that the right
one?"

"Yeah, that's the silicone lube."

"Wow, you must have a busy night planned?!"

"Well yes and no. It's not what you think, it's for the latex, it makes
it shine."

"Um, alright. Anything else?"

"One last thing. Also, in the closet, probably near where you found the
soccer outfit, my harness is probably on another hanger closeby."

Michael returned to the closet and looked on the left-hand side of the
rack where he split the hangers into two groups from before. Nothing
obvious jumped out at him and he began to move each piece of clothing
over to the right of the rack as he examined the remaining pieces of
clothing in his wardrobe. Michael's hand passed another white hanger and
from that hung a full body catsuit that resembled something like
motorcycle racing gear in dark colors with a predominant red triangle
face in the center of the chest.

"Did you find anything yet, Michael?"

Michael was temporarily stunned by the moto suit in all of its glorious
shined latex. He had a hard time believing that Carter, who seemed so
perfectly normal could have all this gear hidden away in his closet. He
never would have guessed in a million years he would be into this stuff.

"Michael, are you there?"

"Yes, sorry. Still looking. Actually, what does it look like anyway?"
OK
"Well, it's a harness... Sorry, I know that description doesn't help if
you're not familiar with it. It's like a few straps of black leather
with metal gussets that connects to a black metal D loop in the center."

"OK, let me keep looking."

Michael continued to feather his fingers through each of the clothing
items on the hangars and finally got to the end of the rack. Nothing
even vaguely matched that description. After having pushed most of the
clothing to the right side, enough of the overhead light in the closet
could now make its way to the floor illuminating the piles of clothes
and items on the ground. He got in a little closer and started to pick
through the various articles on the bottom of the closet floor.

"Carter, I think I found it. I guess it fell off the hanger onto the
ground."

"Oh good! Which one is it?"

"What do you mean which one? You have more?"

"Look, I'll talk about this later, what color is the metal in the center
of the chest area? Is it shiny silver or black?"

"Definitely black."

"Great that's the one. Add that to the bag, too."

Michael picked it up and brought it over to the bed with the rolled up
latex soccer outfit. He noted how soft the harness was, it did not feel
like the rough leather of a typical belt yet had a very distinctive
leather smell. The harness seemed quite basic and similar to the one
Michael visualized Carter wearing when he first started to look at
pictures of them online when he was back at college.

The whole morning was a lot to take in and mentally digest. He knew
about the leather harness from before even though he never actually saw
it in person. Michael did not understand its importance or meaning with
Carter in the context of his sexuality; it implied a desire to be
submissive. Yet, from Michael's impression of him, and the intimate
moments they experienced together, it just did not add up.

Carter was a natural leader, he exuded confidence, he had a way of
making Michael feel so safe and secure, and he enjoyed when he was the
one that felt protected. How could someone also want to wear a harness
that implied a taste for submissive behavior? The harness was nothing
compared to the latex outfits, that really threw him off. Perhaps Carter
was a lot more exciting and adventurous than Michael originally thought.

"The leather is really soft, I'm kind of surprised. I thought it was
going to feel like standard tough belt leather."

"I know it's nice, right? it's lambskin I think. It feels wonderful
strapped tightly around your chest."

"Is it OK if I ask you why you wear it?"

"Hah! If I was at home right now we'd have a much longer conversation
about this. Actually, I think it might be a thing you would get
something out of, too. But, I really need to meet with a student in
about five minutes. Basically, it's just something that I feel an
affinity to. It makes me feel sexy and maybe a little vulnerable. And I
don't get to experience those feelings that much."

The idea of Carter having to wear anything besides his own skin to feel
desirable legitimately surprised Michael. Everything he experienced with
him so far made it appear that Carter just exuded sexual energy in every
breath he inhaled and each step he took. The vulnerable piece he
understood, in part, straightaway.

The idea of having to be in on-mode all the time telling recovering
student-athletes what to do, constantly taking care of them, always
thinking about someone else's well-being must be exhausting. When did
Carter ever get a chance to focus on himself, besides, when he went to
the gym to work on his own body.

Silence hung over the phone line.

"Michael, are you still there?"

"Yes."

"You OK, man? Did I say something to offend you?"

"NO!"

"OK, you think you could meet me at the main campus at Chandler around
one-o-clock today with the bag of things?"

"Yeah, where exactly on campus though?"

"I'll text the address after I hang up. I really appreciate this,
Michael. Thanks again."

"No problem, happy to help."

"Hey, let's get lunch together today at one then, it'll be my way of
thanking you."

"Oh, that's not necessary."

"OK, if you have plans I don't want to mess up your day."

"NO! No plans today. Lunch would be great."

"Sweet, see you at one then. Talk later."

"OK, see you at one. Bye."

Michael pressed the red button on his phone and ended the call and sat
down on Carter's unmade bed next to the duffel bag with his gear: one
latex soccer uniform complete with matching shirt and shorts, latex
sock, rolled up in a towel, a bottle of silicone lube, and a leather
harness with black D-ring loop made of soft black lamb's skin.

There was just so much to process and reevaluate about Carter; the
initial impressions Michael had formed were still valid but these
additional details revealed another dimension of his personality. In
some ways, it made him more human to have these kinks. How could anyone
be so seemingly perfect, anyway? And more importantly, what was it about
a society that made him think that someone had to be vanilla to achieve
that exalted status of being sexually normal and mainstream?

Michael breathed in deeply and securely grasped the corners of the bed
and closed his eyes. He repeated the breathing exercise a few more times
with some long, deep, slow breaths. He opened his eyes and looked at the
bag again and firmly zipped it up, got off the bed, and transferred the
bag to the ground by the door.

He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out Carter's black fashion jock
and brought it up to his face brushing it against his cheek. The smell
from being inside his dirty gym bag was quite strong but he enjoyed the
aroma of his masculine musk. The desire to bring the used fashion jock
closer to his nose and inhale deeply was strong but he stopped short of
that and returned it to the pile of clothes in Carter's closet . How
could he do this when Carter was so out of reach. It was tantamount to
mental torture; he had to focus on something else.

________________________________________________________________________

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you for making it to the end of chapter nineteen.
I've been busy but rest assured I have no intention of stopping this
story anytime soon. I estimate this is about twenty-five percent complete
at this point. As always, I enjoy your feedback. Please write me and tell
me what's on your mind about the story and characters.