Date: Mon, 11 Mar 2024 13:03:29 -0400 From: Hank Subject: Re: Sophomore Year 20 Sophomore Year 23 As Hank's first full day of his new life at Buck's unfolds, simple household chores take on unexpected dimensions. Many thanks to all those who continue to send encouragement and share their own experiences and fantasies. I love hearing from Nifty readers. 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 23 Wearing nothing but Jack's singlet—even with the jockstrap—anywhere outside my room made me feel practically naked, but Buck was not taking excuses. Dutifully following him down the stairs, I noticed his outfit today. Ready for the warm weather, he was bare-chested and barefoot and wearing another pair of snug shorts. However, instead of PT shorts like the day before, he sported silky running shorts, like military silkies but a kind commercially produced for public sale. These had just started hitting the wider market at the time, taking the country by storm as "jogging" became a more and more popular sport. It had surprised me to see growing numbers of guys running around in public in these small nylon shorts. I was used to them because of my track team days and my Marine uncle's silkies, but I think for most guys they were something new. Nowadays, they would quickly be tagged `booty shorts' and guys would get mercilessly teased for wearing them. But back then, before the mass commodification of male bodies (along with pretty much everything else), guys were much less concerned about or aware of the possibility of being `objectified' or made the object of queer desire, and so much less self-conscious about their bodies. Unless of course they'd been teased and bullied about it like I'd been. Still sold today (Soffe is probably the most common brand), like the original silkies, they are very lightweight and quick drying. They remain extremely short—about a 2" inseam—and come with their own support liner and a tiny key pocket. I assume one reason they are less popular now is that they offer nowhere to stash a phone. Guys found them very convenient. They fit easily into a briefcase or gym bag or even a back pocket and could be pulled out for a lunch hour run, then rinsed off in a sink and hung to dry almost anywhere. I remember going to see one of my professors in his office and seeing a pair of these running shorts hanging on the back of a chair. It made me think of him in a new light and I tried to picture him in running gear. I realized that under the coat and tie he was probably quite athletic. I was very tempted to ask him about running and maybe compare notes, but, as usual, I was too shy to even broach the topic. One brand of these shorts, however, did not come with a support liner: Dolphin. They were short enough and loose enough at the leg to require some form of support to avoid certain disaster. I knew this beyond a doubt because it was a pair of Dolphin shorts that my old roommate Ethan freeballed in around the apartment and almost every time he sat down, his dick would slip out either one leg or the other. Probably a little more often on the left though. I could tell Buck was wearing Dolphin shorts by the distinctive design, a green and white vertical stripe unique to that brand. The design had caught my eye before and I had even thought about saving up to buy a pair. I wondered if Buck ever let anyone else wear his shorts. Maybe one day I'd get brave enough to ask him to let me try them on. There would be no question of course as to whether Buck was wearing a jockstrap underneath his Dolphin shorts. If I had learned anything during my brief time so far in this house, it was that Buck's commitment to male support was unwavering. I also knew it would only be a matter of minutes before this would be confirmed, either when he bent over for some reason, and I'd get a peek at the leg straps or when he snapped them, as was his habit, and I'd hear them `pop' against his bare ass. It may seem silly, but I was curious and meant to keep an eye out. When we got to the kitchen, Buck handed me the trashcan and told me to start emptying the wastepaper baskets around the house and when done, to dump it in the garbage can in the garage. At that point, he'd show me where to drag it down to the end of the driveway for trash collection that day. Gathering the trash from around the house was pretty easy and gave me a chance get rid of the tissues I'd used to wipe up the spillage of my wet dream, and to put sneakers on to go outside. I was curious to go into Buck's room, but he told me he'd already emptied his. Buck then led me to the garage and guided me in emptying the trash. Once done, he watched as I dragged the can towards the curb. I reluctantly stepped out of the protective security of the garage into the open air of the driveway and felt lucky no one seemed to be out at that moment to see me in Jack's singlet. After setting the garbage can at the curb, I turned to dash back to the safety inside. I was almost back to the garage when I heard Buck call past me, "Hey, Earl!" I turned to see a tall Black man in a mailman's uniform walking up the driveway. Even though not much detail showed from under the uniform, his overall shape and stride made me suspect he was athletic. "Hey, Buck," he responded with a bright wide smile. "Got my favorite shorts on, huh? Must be my lucky day!" So, I thought, Earl is also a Dophin shorts fan...interesting. "Could be, ya play your cards right." Buck teased back. "So, when did Jack get home?" Knowing he was referring to me, I turned to bolt inside. "Ha ha. Come meet the new Jack." Buck laughed, gripping my arm firmly, sending a clear message not to move an inch. "Please, sir!" I whispered fiercely, "I'm just wearing this singlet, remember? Lemme go change!" "This is Hank," Buck said, still holding my arm so I couldn't escape. "He's gonna take Jack's room for a while and help out around here. Quite the bruiser, huh?" "Yes, indeed!" Earl said approvingly, "I thought he was Jack for a second `cuz of the singlet, but now I can see this one might be an even bigger threat on the mat." Earl set his mailbag down and looked me over. "Maybe so..." Buck slowly spun me around by the shoulders so Earl could get a good look. "Mmm mmm. Lookin' good there, Hank!" Earl admired. "Imagine gettin' trapped `tween those thighs!" "And look at this," Buck said, bending me over to stretch the fabric tight across my ass, "now there's a sight, huh?" "Is that a jockstrap I'm detectin' under there?" Earl reacted in fake surprise. "Unbelievable! Who knew it was even possible with that singlet!" "Here," Buck invited, "Feel it. It's true. Ever think you'd see the day?" They took turns running their fingers along the leg straps visible under the singlet. I was mortified to be so exposed and inspected like a steer at auction yet at the same time oddly flattered by their comments and most of all, their attention. I'd always been starved for the attention and praise of grown men and had struggled so hard to earn it on the field or in the classroom. This situation was odd no doubt, but I was willing to put up with a lot to earn a little approval. "Now turn around and let `im see what you're packin'." I thought Buck had already embarrassed me as much as possible that day but realized there was always likely more to come. I slowly turned to face the mail carrier. "How'd ya like to see that thing comin' atcha from across the mat?" "Whoa! That poor jockstrap workin' overtime!" and he moved in for a closer look. "Careful getting' too close there. He `bout smothered me with that thing a little while ago. Crafty devil." All this had been half-joking, with sly smiles and teasing. I knew they couldn't be totally serious. Still, dismayed by this distortion, I blurted out, "I did not!" "It's the truth." Buck insisted. "He asked me all nice to help him adjust things and before I knew it, I had a face full of jock pouch! Had me gaspin' for breath but all I got was a mouthful of spicy Mexican meatballs." At this point, the tension was broken and all three of us were laughing at Buck's shenanigans. "You Mexican?" Earl asked with a smile. "On my mom's side." I answered. "So half, I guess." "My brother-in-law's Mexican. Crazy wild guy. Lotta fun. And likes to wrestle. I should bring him over some time. Would love to see you two go at in on the mat." Turning to Buck he added, "Now, that would be something to see, believe you me!" "I believe it. We oughta make that happen. See which one walks away with his jock intact." They both laughed. Then, in a surprise move, Buck threw his arm around me, drew me close and rubbing my chest said. "Seriously, this kid's a good one. A Boy Scout." I was very touched by his words and happy to soak in the moments of silence that followed. Then his roaming fingers started diddling my nipples a little which was sending sparks through my torso. "At least so far." Buck broke the silence. "Don't be surprised though," and here he gave my package a quick squeeze making me jump a little, "if you find this thing coming for ya one of these days. I tell ya I won't!" And they both laughed. Buck's words and gestures confused me, but before I could ponder them any further, his tone changed and he turned to me and said, "Hey, show `im what you learned today." It took me a second to understand and then I very shyly reached down, cupped my balls, and recited, "Trust the pouch." Earl's face broke into a huge smile and to my surprise, he also reached down, cupped his balls, making them much more visible in his uniform, and repeated, "Trust the pouch!" He then raised his hand for a handshake and said, "Welcome to the Brotherhood, little man." His hand felt very warm, and I wondered how much of that heat had come from the nuts they'd just been holding. "You may see him around the gym before too long. He's gonna be helpin' me out a bit." "Great, gonna look forward to seein' more of this Hank. Hey, he doin' any massage like Jack?" "Not right away, but we might be able to teach `im some. Hey, maybe he could practice on you." Turning to me he added, "under that uniform this guy's nothin' but muscle. Great lesson in anatomy!" Turning back to Earl, he said, "Y'know, Jack says you're his favorite to work on. No wonder he always takes extra time with you!" "Well, I guess he finds a lot that needs attention." Earl responded with a laugh. I found this whole exchange puzzling though somehow promising, but before I could mull it over, Buck told me to jump in the car that we were going to run a quick errand. Standing out on the curb in this singlet and getting prodded and groped by two grown men in pubic had already pushed me to my limit. I said `no,' explaining that I couldn't go anywhere dressed like this and would need to get changed first. Once again, Buck was not tolerating any excuses. His mood quickly darkened. "You want me to bend you over my knee right here in front of Earl and let him watch that pretty ass of yours turn bright red? Don't think I won't." "But..." I started to protest. "I will peel that singlet down to your knees in about two seconds flat and the only thing between my hand and those sweet cheeks of yours gonna be two little leg straps of your jock. Think they gonna give ya much protection? I instinctively reached back to feel just how little protection those straps would give. "Earl here probably enjoy you givin' him a show like that." Earl, who had just picked up his mailbag and slung it over his shoulder, set it back down, with an expectant look on his face, like he would be happy to watch. "No, sir." I replied, my eyes downcast. "Well, then," he snapped, "go get in the damn car." I slowly walked around to the passenger door. From the corner of my eye, I saw that Earl picked up his mailbag again, looking a little disappointed. "Sorry, Earl." Buck winked at him. "Maybe next time."