Date: Thu, 21 Dec 2023 12:58:00 -0500 From: Sophomore Hank Subject: Sophomore Year 10 Sophomore Year 10 This is the tenth of a multipart story about my year boarding with a single dad and his two sons, a time of highly charged eroticism that led me to discover a lot about myself. The story takes its time unfolding; the joy is (hopefully) in the journey. In this chapter, Hank receives a very stimulating lesson on art history. Please send your thoughts and reactions, as well as your own memories in an email, I attempt to respond to all. Many thanks to those who have sent words of encouragement. This story—and many, many hours of reading pleasure—is due to the powerful inspiration of such great Nifty stories as "Jockboy Adventures," "Bodybuilder Pussy," and "Locker Room Boys." I owe their authors an enormous debt. And remember - Nifty depends on our donations! Let's help it survive and thrive! If you have ever shot a load reading a Nifty post, then please contribute if you can at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Sophomore Year 10 Sophomore Year 10 "Water? C'mon, Sailor, it's right over here," Buck assured me, nodding back towards the doorway we'd entered barely an hour ago, although I felt like I'd lived through weeks or months of experiences and feelings since then. He trotted back over to the wall switches and threw a couple more, bringing to life a line of ceiling lamps above the weight equipment where I sat. I blinked, momentarily blinded by the sudden brightness. I slowly got to my feet, still a bit shaky, and started walking towards Buck, who had grabbed a paper cup and was leaning forward to fill it from a water cooler. I was no longer surprised to see as his shorts rode up in back the white straps of his jock peeking out, but I stared, nonetheless, as I walked towards them. At least until he stood and turned, offering me the cup. "Here, drink this. You're probably just dehydrated after a long day." Offering no argument, I accepted the cup and drained it, which he quickly took from my hand to fill again. The water tank gurgled as though nearly empty. Tipping it forward, Buck coaxed out the final drops and handed me the cup. He then lifted the empty top container and said, "Sip that slow while I get a fresh jug. Don't gulp it, you'll get a cramp." He headed off past the doorway and ducked behind a curtain I hadn't noticed before where soon the sounds of heavy movement reached me. Following instructions, I slowly sipped the second cup and looked around. To the left of the water cooler hung one of those large anatomy charts, like you see in doctors' offices, titled, `Human Muscular System' showing a man front and then back, with each muscle group clearly depicted and labeled. I felt some validation to note that the butt--or `gluteus maximus'--on this guy seemed even larger than mine and I smiled to think some expert had deemed it worthy of drawing. To the right of the water cooler in a heavy frame hung a huge antique print of what looked like Roman baths. Marble pillars, arches and statuary surrounded a large shallow pool where dozens of men lounged and bathed around a fountain, some pouring water over one another. In the background, other men stretched and exercised. They were of all shapes, sizes and colors; some hairy and some smooth. Unlike the locker rooms and swimming pools of my own experience, this scene appeared peaceful and calm, with no sign of conflict or bullying. Aside from several youths in delicate loincloths who attended the patrons, all the men were completely naked, and, unlike such illustrations I had seen in history or art books, where convenient greenery or other clever devices would hide genitals from view, here they were on full display and carefully drawn. So meticulous was the detail that I felt further validation to note that among the many penises depicted, a good number were clearly uncircumcised. It may sound odd, but seeing physical characteristics that had caused me such anxiety displayed here so publicly and proudly, made me feel more relaxed and comfortable than I had in very long time. The picture was full of many small scenarios to explore. Light streamed from above creating dramatic beams surrounding certain figures and deeper shadows obscuring other activities in the background. Whisps of steam rose here and there above the waters. In one corner of the pool, two men stood knee deep, embraced in an initial wrestling pose while a small group of men seated at the edge dangled their feet in the water as they looked on, clapping, or grabbing one another in the excitement of the contest. Other men chatted amiably in pairs and small groups; arms casually draped around each other's shoulders. The cheerful youths attended the patrons in several vignettes. To the right, one knelt before an older man vigorously toweling his legs dry, seemingly unperturbed that the task brought his face within inches of the man's dangling genitals. To the left, near the water's edge, two boys merrily massaged a patron reclined on a narrow table while his companions observed and commented from the pool. Further to the left another boy sat at one end of a cushioned bench, playfully feeding grapes to a lounging patron whose head rested on his thigh while his feet lay in the lap of a friend seated at the other end. Other patrons enjoyed the scene from balconies on both sides, pointing and commenting on the activities below while more youths filled their outheld cups. The open doors behind them revealed beds and couches within. All seemed designed for rest, leisure, and comfort. In the center foreground, a soldier stood at the edge of the pool as though hesitating to venture in. He wore a sword at his right hip and the red-crested helmet of a Roman centurion. He carried a round shield in his left hand while his right rested on the hilt of his sword. Otherwise, he was completely naked. He stood above two bathers facing him at either side. The one on the left, in water just to his hips, reached out to tug the soldier's calf in friendly encouragement. The bather on the right stood in shallower water, one foot raised upon a step, his arms spread wide in welcome, his near hand gesturing to the soldier's shield and the far hand towards a small group of men bathing each other nearby. He appeared to be the source of the words in a scroll-like banner at the bottom, `Lay down thy weapons, Soldier, for here thou art amongst friends.' The degree of detail and the quality of the rendering seemed remarkable. Viewing it today, I might see kitsch and poorly disguised homoerotic subtext, as in the charming art of George Quaintance. But seeing such a work for the first time, I was entranced. To my unsophisticated gaze, the pseudo historical tropes feigned a gravitas and authority I did not think to question. Rather, I fantasized about being in the scene savoring the comforting comradery. I imagined myself by turns as patron and then attendant. The intense warmth I felt in my belly began to descend. Buck returned to find me staring, lost in the image of the baths. Embarrassed by the direction of my thoughts, I attempted distraction by pointing to the anatomical poster, saying, "This is very cool." Buck commented on how helpful it was when teaching exercises, to explain their purpose and proper form. Then he tapped the frame and admired, "Man, don't ya wish you could draw like that?" "Well, actually..." I began. "No!" Buck reacted, "You tellin' me you can draw like that?" "Well, no," I admitted, "that guy's a professional, and I'm outa practice, but I used to like to draw and would do like superheroes I liked from the comics." "Ok, so you can draw me then!" he laughed and flexed as though posing for an artist. "Y'know, I pose sometimes for an art class. Seriously. Another buddy here, he's an art teacher over at the boys' school. He gets me to come model for what they call a `figure drawing class.' First time he asked me, I said, "Nah, I don't know nothin' about art." And he says, "Buck, you'll stand around naked doing nothing in a room full of guys. I think you know a lot about that!" and we cracked up." Buck's story had us both laughing. "Y'know," Buck continued, turning more serious, "he's always looking for models. He once asked me if my boys might be interested. I said, `Lord, no! You'd never get `em outa there. They'd think they'd died and gone to heaven. My Zacky'd probably start dancing for `em." He laughed again. "You ever take a class like that?" he asked. "Well, I took art class in school, but we never had nude models. I did like figure drawing, though. Used to draw my favorite comic book heroes like The Flash and Batman." "Wow, ok, so you could draw me sometime, eh? Seriously, I'd like a drawing of me either naked or almost naked to hang here in the gym somewhere. And I'll bet we could get somebody to pay us for it!" Buck winked and elbowed me in the side gently. "Talkin' about works of art..." Buck joked as he moved on to the antique print, "ain't this something'? One of our buddies here teaches history up at the college, he donated it to the gym. Well..." he muttered, "in return for a couple of freebies." "Y'know," he continued, "I'm not usually that big into classical art but this painting is different. I don't know, it like you're there, or somethin'. And y'know, it's tellin' a story. Yeah, the history professor, he's an expert on this stuff. He was explaining how it's not so much exactly how things were as much as like a picture of what Rome was trying to be. Like, they're done conquerin' and now they want everybody to settle down. So no more fightin', the need for battle is over, like this soldier here. They're tellin' him to forget war and start makin' friends with all the different folks now part of the empire." " So, ya got these bearded guys with the dick hoodies," pointing to their uncircumcised penises, "they're like the barbarians from up in Germany. And see this guy here and this guy here, they're like from Asia, and these guys are from Africa, you can see, all different kinds but they're getting along peaceful, like friends. And the fact they're all naked, that like symbolizes trust and good health, right? Pretty cool." Buck seems very satisfied with his art history mini lecture. Turning jovial again, he asks, "Man, wouldn't ya love to be there?" I'm surprised to hear my thoughts expressed out loud. "Man, how'd ya like to have somebody feedin' ya grapes?" he asked, pointing to that scene in the painting. "Hey, maybe you can feed me grapes, how'd ya like that?" He jokingly slapped my shoulder. I laughed along but the image stubbornly loitered in my mind. "This is the feeling we try to create here in the gym, so this picture's perfect." Seemingly assured that I was on the mend, Buck took the cup from me and with one hand, crumpled it, tossed it squarely in the trash can, flipped on some lights over the shower area and then gently turned me by the shoulder and said, "C'mon, I'll show ya. Stairs're over here."