By Quentin Collins (firstname.lastname@example.org)
© BJB Conglomerated Media
This story is fictitious and takes place in a fantastic realm where inconvenient physical, biological, medical, legal, and moral strictures don't exist. It is intended only for the entertainment of those who are legally permitted to access and read it.
This is my first attempt at storytelling, so please be gentle in your criticism, lest you make me cry.
Another thing that makes me cry is the thought that Nifty might go away if we don't support it. Think of the hours of fun you've had on this site. Isn't it worth the price of a movie ticket every month or even every quarter to keep it going? Donate here.
I was glad with the time I was making in the moving van. Even though we had stopped for an extended break at a rest stop, I was getting weary from sitting. I was glad that I decided to drive naked – at least that made things a little more comfortable. Having Tian lying naked in my lap made things a lot more comfortable.
Since Tian was uninterested in taking in the sights, I continued to tell him about how he came to be.
_ _ _ _ _ _
And baby makes three:
Shahin (Bird) had gone home that Saturday morning in 2001, and I wasn't to see him again until Thanksgiving break when he came home from Lehigh University. It was only a few weeks, but that's almost an eternity for a thirteen-year-old.
Dan and I went running. Running is hard! Dan didn't even break a sweat. I thought I was going to need an ambulance. Dan told me that he can run four or five miles in the course of one soccer match. He encouraged me to keep pushing myself. I was determined to make him proud of me.
Dan, dad and I made love again Saturday night. It was wonderful, but I wanted my Iranian brother with me too. I knew it wasn't possible, but, I also knew that I was in love with that wrestling stud.
Dan and I slept together in his bed Saturday night. We each made love to the other twice more. We had progressed from frenetic, feverish sex, to tender, selfless lovemaking. Our orgasms were still explosive, but the minutes before and after were consumed with demonstrations of our mutual love.
I felt a tender kiss on my cheek in the morning. Dan had grown a substantial amount of scruff overnight. The kiss moved to my mouth. The tongue pushing into my mouth tasted minty fresh. As I heard Dan lightly snoring, I realized that it was dad who was kissing me awake.
Bird was my favorite kissing partner, but dad kissed with quiet confidence that made me instantly hard. Maybe I was already hard?
Dan was spooning me from behind. Dad broke our kiss and knelt his naked body in front of me. He took my entire five-and-one-half-inch penis into his mouth and began to pleasure me. I couldn't stop myself from thrusting into his throat.
I felt Dan moving behind me. As I pulled most of the way out of dad's mouth, I impaled myself on Dan's morning wood. I was thrilled to have my beloved brother's penis in my ass and my penis in my beloved father's mouth. If only I could wake up that way every day.
Dan and I pretty quickly achieved our bliss simultaneously. Dad held my penis in his mouth for a few moments, then stood and kissed Dan with a mouthful of my cum. I had a flash of jealousy until I heard Dan moaning with pleasure at the taste of my spunk. How could I be angry about that?
Dan turned to lie on his back, pulling his penis from my ass. I was alone in a desolate universe, unwanted and unloved.
Dad and Dan eventually finished their cummy kiss, neither one of them thanking me for my contribution. At least dad positioned himself so that I could suckle his penis as he kissed my brother. Dad rose up, but not enough to pull his dick from my mouth.
"I'm sorry to wake you, Dan, but squirt here had agreed to come to work with me, after he's done sucking me, of course. I just wanted to know if he is still interested in earning forty dollars for the day."
"Mmm hmm," was all I could respond with my mouth full. I grabbed dad's hips to pull him further into my mouth, but he fought me.
"Sorry, Andy, but we have to get going. I told Mr. Madsen I'd have the new sinks and faucets installed at the McDonalds by eleven o'clock. Then we can take our time installing the sinks at the Madsen law offices."
Dad took a few steps back from the bed and reached out his hand to help me out of bed as he said to Dan, "I guess you're going to be on your way back to Notre Dame by the time we're back home, so we better say our goodbyes now."
"No! Please don't leave! How will I go on? My life is over. Dad, please make him stay. You get the rope, and I'll tie him down. Dan, how can you do this to me? I'm stuck here with no one and no prospects."
Some people accuse me of being a drama queen. I don't see it.
Dad stepped forward and pulled me out of bed and into a hug. "Remember when I told you yesterday that you would always have me, even after Dan and Bird went back to school?"
"Uh, yeah, dad, I remember that."
Dad pulled back from me a little. "How do you think it makes me feel when you say that your life is over and you have no one? Am I really no one to you, Andy?"
I stood stunned. Did I really say that? I couldn't have. I replayed that last few minutes in my head.
I'm such an idiot. "I'm such an idiot! Dad, I love you! You know I love you. I didn't mean what I said when I didn't know what I was saying. I was just sad. I was sad and stupid. Please, dad, don't be angry. I'm sorry!"
I dropped to my knees and kissed dad's penis many times, apologizing to it, and promising dad that I appreciated him. I stopped talking and took him fully into my mouth. I would show him how much I loved him.
Dad tapped me on the head. "Andy! Andy! Stop!"
I looked up at him.
"I was joking, Andy. You really are an idiot. But I wasn't joking about having to get moving. You can show your appreciation to my cock tonight.
"Now say goodbye to your brother, put your work clothes on, and meet me in the garage."
I stood up and gave dad a peck on the lips. "I don't think I can say goodbye to Dan. I'm not strong enough."
Dan got out of bed and embraced us both. "You are strong enough, Andy. You're stronger than I am. I love you more today than I have ever loved you before. I'll be back in less than a month. I bet you'll have two boyfriends by then."
I ugly cried. Dad cried too. He calls me a drama queen?
Dad held Dan's face in his hands. "You are the absolute best, Dan. I can't imagine my life without you. I can't wait for you to get back, but I'm glad that you're out there in South Bend making your own life. I'm proud of you, son. I'm proud of what a good big brother you are to Andy. He doesn't deserve you."
We stood together, quietly sniffling. Finally, dad smacked us both on the ass and said, "Give them hell, Dan! Show us how it's done. We'll see you at Thanksgiving, and talk to you many times before then."
I grabbed my big brother. "I really, really, really, really, really, really, really love you , Dan. I'll be strong for you."
"You had better be, squirt. I expect a lot from you, Andy. Just grow into a man like dad, and you're home free. And keep running. You'll grow to love it. I promise."
The rest of Sunday was drudgery. We got all the fixtures replaced at the McDonalds and the Madsen law offices.
Dad and I showered together in the basement when we got home. We went upstairs to the kitchen, not bothering to dress. Mom was making the rest of the sirloin tips that Bird didn't eat yesterday at breakfast, along with roasted creamer potatoes and roasted diced red beets. There would also be steamed asparagus. I may be odd, but I've always loved my mom's roasted beets. Dad tolerated them, but they were my favorite.
Mom told us to relax in the living room since dinner wouldn't be ready for another thirty minutes.
Dad and I lay together on the couch. He was watching golf. Why someone who doesn't golf would watch golf was beyond me. I tried watching, but I felt myself drifting off.
I had to do something to keep from dozing off, so I slid to the floor and knelt in front of dad. I took his soft penis into my mouth and started delivering the blow job I had promised that morning.
I took my time. It took a few minutes for dad to get fully erect. I moved from his penis to his scrotum several times. I was sucking and licking his cock while playing with his balls. I felt his scrotum tightening, and knew we were almost home.
I noticed mom step into the living room. I presumed she was there to tell us that dinner was ready, but she stood quietly when she saw that I was sucking off dad. As dad moaned and started to fill my mouth with his delicious cum, mom came over to kiss him.
They kissed sloppily as I continued to fellate dad. I kept on his penis while they kept kissing. They finally broke their kiss.
"Dinner is ready. Perhaps you've already had your fill, Andy?"
I looked up at my smiling mom with dad's deflating cock still in my mouth. I let it drop. "You know my appetites are insatiable," I remarked before kissing dad's cock a few times.
Dinner was delicious. Dad and I helped clean up afterwards, and made sure we were set for the work and school week ahead of us. We spent a quiet night together watching television.
As we were watching The X-Files, dad noticed that I chubbed up a bit looking at David Duchovny. I wanted his pretty lips on my cock. Dad fondled my penis and lazily masturbated me as we watched the show. I came just as the show was ending. Mom laughed at me. "You really do have insatiable appetites, don't you?"
I just shrugged as I felt my body flush from the orgasm. Dad licked my cum off his hand. I scooped cum off my torso and ate it. Then I kissed mom and dad goodnight and went to bed. Alone. Desolate. Unloved and unwanted. Never to be touched again.
_ _ _ _ _ _
The following week, right before Halloween, I talked to Annika for the first time in a few weeks. She asked me to come to her house. I didn't want to, but I could tell from the tone of her voice that something serious was up.
As soon as we went down to the basement recreation room, she told me she was pregnant.
I was stupefied. We sat in silence with her waiting anxiously for my reaction. When I eventually was able to comprehend what she said I moved right into questioning and denial. I was positive of my orientation by this point. She was three shallow breaths away from hysterical. I remained stoic.
She insisted I was the only possible inseminator. Her reputation gave me doubts, but I knew I came in her at least twice and on her once or twice more. She told her parents that night, and they immediately implemented crisis control protocols. There was some talk of adoption. There was a lot of talk about saving reputations (theirs). There was no talk of termination. That did not happen in conservative southwestern Pennsylvania. But, of course, we all know it did and does.
When the Madsens arranged a meeting with my parents, I thought the entire town would get sucked up into a mushroom cloud, and I would drop into the ceaseless flames of hell. That I didn't believe in hell was immaterial.
Mom, dad, and I had discussed their disillusionment with organized religion, but I still pictured her standing at the rim of hell looking down on me, clicking her tongue at the pathos of the situation. She would never question the injustice of my fate. Dad would stand next to her, not challenging her.
But Rosella Tarnow was eerily quiet. I soon realized her silence was caused by incredulity. We had all put the possibility that Annie might get pregnant into the background and focused more on me and my coming out as well as my new physical relationships with my brothers and father.
My parents and I reiterated the possibility that the baby was fathered by someone else. It was agreed that I would take a blood test and the fetus would be tested at the first safe opportunity. They hadn't yet developed the Non-Invasive Prenatal Paternity blood test for pregnant women so we would have to wait to test the amniotic fluid. In the meantime, we would all keep our mouths shut. Tight.
The Madsens had the means to take care of Annika, the baby and all the legal and medical expenses that would be involved. Mr. Madsen told us that, as a goodwill gesture, we should pick an attorney to work with and he would pay the fees. He knew his daughter had a sketchy reputation and wanted to cover his bases in case someone else turned out to be the baby's father. He also had genuine respect for my dad, so he wanted to be as fair as possible.
My dad was a plumber and my mom a part-time bank teller. We were doing fine, but we were in a lower socioeconomic stratum. The Madsens almost imperceptibly acknowledged that we both knew our stations and they were in the driver's seat.
The Madsens yanked Annika out of Cool Springs Regional High and enrolled her in a private school near Pittsburgh to finish out her "time of confinement." My parents and I discussed the situation, and they decided that they would adopt the baby. My baby! The cover story would be that it was the child of a cousin of dad's fresh from Poland and unable to take care of a newborn. The Madsens were happy with this plan since no other adoptive family would need to be involved. All the wagons were circled.
Neither Annika nor her parents seemed to be interested in raising the baby, but they insisted that Annika and Mr. and Mrs. Madsen would be allowed to be part of the child's life in some undetermined way.
It wouldn't be until February that we could receive confirmation that I was the father, but the Madsens insisted I was the only true possibility.
I didn't talk to Annika once she went away, but from her occasional emails, I sensed that she was more interested in when she would be able to party again. She resented my impregnation of her for ruining her social life.
After decisions were made about how to proceed, I was left bewildered. My life was about to change in ways I couldn't even imagine, but there was nothing for me to do about it for the next several months. There were nondisclosure agreements covering me, my parents, and my brother Dan to ensure our silence. I was expected to keep the secret of my becoming a father and go about my business.
The Madsens gifted cash to mom and dad, each just under the legal limit where it wouldn't have to be declared on their income taxes. They assured us that the money would keep flowing once we adopted the baby since mom would likely quit her job to be a fulltime caretaker, at least until I was able to take care of my own baby.
I had to decide whether to talk to people about being gay. I had told my family, including Bird, and Annie, but should I be out? Would it serve any purpose? Would it serve any purpose to keep quiet?
There were many contradictory possibilities.
_ _ _ _ _
Body of work:
From the moment we found out Annika was pregnant I had gotten the notion that, if I were to become a father, even surreptitiously, I should "man up." I conflated fatherhood with masculinity and gender stereotypes. I guess that happens in the hormonal cesspool that is a teenage boy's brain.
For some reason, the phrase Dan's friend Brad used, "nelly queer stud," had stuck in my head. I could be a stud and still be gay. I didn't have to be a femme boy if I didn't want to. I liked some femme boys, but it would feel like putting on a character for me to be one myself.
Dan had encouraged (conscripted?) me to start running when he was home earlier in October. I kept to my promise, and ran six days a week. I was surprised that, in less than two weeks, I could feel a change in my body. Shaving fifteen seconds of a two-mile run disproportionately boosted my confidence.
When I thought of being a man and a father, I thought of my own dad. Konrad Tarnow was a real man. That's what I wanted to be.
I had previously been into computers and gaming. Prolonged contact with fresh air could cause my system to spasm. Now I decided to immerse myself in some fantastic version of hyper-masculinity in partial imitation of my dad.
I decided to get involved in sports.
I concluded I lacked the coordination for baseball and the bulk needed for football, but I could probably handle track and field. Track anyway. I wasn't sure what "field" was. I also fantasized about my new "brother" Bird and thought I might enjoy wrestling.
I kept running on my own. I was no longer pathetic, but I determined to push myself to do better, slowly gaining stamina, becoming comfortable with a 5k, and finding it therapeutic to boot. Perhaps by spring, I thought, I would be able to try out for the junior varsity track team. I had hoped to have conquered the 10k by then.
I also wanted to bulk up. I kept the vision of Bird in my head. I loved that muscular wrestler's body and thought perhaps I could create a Polish-German version of that Persian demigod.
I had avoided the high school's weight room the few times I had seen it. I imagined it to be in a parallel universe on the other side of a wormhole. Unknown manly things went on in there. I didn't feel worthy to be among their kind.
Cool Springs Regional High School wasn't fancy or elite, but it had enough students that we got to make selections for activities in gym class. The building opened only three years earlier, so the facilities were up-to-date, though utilitarian. The deadline had already passed for second quarter gym assignments, but I asked my gym teacher if I could change my activity to weight training. My brother Dan suggested that would be a good way for me to learn how to lift and start to get some definition.
My teacher checked the rosters and said there were a few open slots in the boys weight training class, so he would allow the switch. After school that day I was to report to the newly-hired men's conditioning coach, Mr. Katema, who would supervise my Phys. Ed. sessions. I could introduce myself to him and perhaps get the introductions to the machines and equipment that the other students had gotten last week.
I had a study hall last period that day, and the proctor agreed to give me a hall pass to go see Mr. Katema about thirty minutes before the end of the period. I thought I could get him to sign off on my transfer and still be able to make my bus.
There were separate weight rooms for boys and girls adjacent to their respective locker rooms. They had identical equipment to meet all Title IX requirements.
When I walked in, I found about twenty guys at the various apparati and free weights. I was soon to learn they were part of the school's wrestling program. There were boys ranging from less than my 120 pounds to about 180 pounds. I searched the room for someone who might be Mr. Katema. I decided that "Katema" was a Japanese name and thought I would find someone who looked like Pat Morita, but I didn't see any Japanese looking people.
Soon a kid walked up to me and asked if I were lost. I thought I had seen him in the halls a couple times, but I didn't know him. We didn't have a lot of people of color in our school. His skin was medium black and beautifully smooth, but his features looked like they might be Asian or maybe Middle Eastern. He wore his hair quite short, but his eyebrows looked almost feminine and were set in arches of constant surprise. His ears kind of stuck out in an awkward but cute way. He had some kind of exotic accent. He stood four inches taller than my 5'7" frame, with his sweat jacket and pants hanging loosely on what I surmised was a skinny body. But he was alluring. I guessed he was a senior.
"I'm looking for Mr. Katema?"
"If you take three steps forward you'll be standing behind him."
I looked around him to see who was behind him, then caught on to his joke.
"You're the conditioning coach?"
"Yes. Were you expecting someone else," he asked.
"Um. No. But I thought you were a, I mean you look like a student. I'm sorry. I mean you look too young, and I thought you would be more ... you know ... substantial."
I am nothing if not suave.
He looked at me without changing expression.
"What is your name, young man, and why are you here?"
I shifted my weight and answered, "I'm Andy ... Andrew Tarnow. I'm supposed to be joining your 7th-period conditioning class on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. If you allow it, I mean."
Mr. Katema smiled slightly. "Tell me, Andy Andrew Tarnow, are you sure you want to be in my class now that you've met me? You obviously think I lack the experience and `substance' to help condition your muscles. Perhaps you should seek someone older and bigger?"
I blurted out, "How the hell old are you anyway? Shit. I mean I shouldn't have said that. Maybe you could ignore everything I've said up to now? I'm going to try really hard to do the same."
I could feel myself breaking out into a flop sweat.
Mr. Katema leaned in toward me, but without a trace of menace. "I am twenty-eight years old, but people tell me I look even younger. You know what they say, `Black don't crack.'"
I must have looked confused.
He repeated, "Black don't crack. You understand? Black people don't get wrinkles and look old."
I looked at his smooth black skin close-up. "Is that because you moisturize?"
Someday I may learn that not saying the first thing that pops into my head is also a valid choice.
Mr. Katema leaned back and howled with laughter. Everyone in the room looked over to see what was going on. I'm pretty sure that I turned as red as I'd ever been.
He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and guided me to the center of the room under the gaze of the wrestlers. His arm felt surprisingly strong and solid. I could feel him shaking with laughter as he pulled me close.
He presented me to the group. "Gentlemen of the wrestling team, this is Andy Andrew Tarnow. He is my new favorite student. All of you are but specks of Saharan dust."
He burst out laughing again and pulled me even closer to him. I relished the side embrace and melted uneasily into his ribs. He smelled like he had just gotten out of the shower. I resisted the urge to sniff this exotic man. The guys just looked as if they had been through this routine before and turned their attention back to their exercises, some shaking their heads and smiling.
"Mr. Andy Andrew and I have some things to discuss in my office. Interrupt us if you really need to, but try not to need to."
Then he relaxed his grip on my shoulders and kind of cuffed me around the neck.
"Come to my office, Andy Andrew and tell me what I can do to prove that I am worthy to guide you."
We walked to a nondescript office with basic furniture and no extras: no pictures or diplomas; no trophies or anything personal. There was a window above his desk looking out to the weight room, but it was mostly obscured by mini-blinds. We stood facing each other. He reached over and gently closed the door.
I felt I needed to reset. I felt a little claustrophobic. I felt the onslaught of another episode of logorrhea.
"Mr. Katema, I'm really, really, really sorry for the stupid things I said before. I'm new to all of this, and I'm kind of nervous, and I didn't know what to expect. And I've never been in this part of the gym and I just really want some guidance on how to start building some definition and mass. But I don't want to be the Hulk. I just want to be stronger. And I've started running recently, and I feel so much better being able to run, you know, with all that extra stamina. And I want to feel better throughout my body, like my muscles, you know? And I want to look better too. And I didn't mean to imply that you don't know what you're doing. I mean they wouldn't have hired you if you didn't know what you're doing, right? How did you get hired anyway? I mean why did you want this job? Like, this job here in Bum Fuck, Pa. OH, MY GOD. Please, Mr. Katema make me stop talking. Please get some duct tape. Lots of duct tape. Oh my God!"
What the actual fuck was wrong with me? I was on the verge of tears. Mr. Katema stepped to me and put a hand on each shoulder and then turned both hands up so that he was holding my head and kind of pinning my ears with his thumbs. He was forcing me to look him in the eye. I was trying to avoid eye contact. He gripped my head tighter. I think he was trying to not laugh at me. I'm sure he was trying not to laugh at me.
"Listen to me, Andrew. And please, if you would, do me the kindness of looking at me while I'm talking to you."
I met his gaze with my moistening eyes. His eyes were kind, soft, and inviting. His mouth settled into a pleasant grin. His lips weren't especially full, but I wondered what they might feel like on my own.
His complexion was so pure and smooth I wondered for an instant if he might be wearing makeup. Then I noticed his tight, even pores and concluded that he was just naturally beautiful.
I had not had much interaction with the few black people in town, and was certainly never held like this by a black man. I had missed out on so much. How had I gone a full thirteen and one-quarter years of my life without being touched by a handsome black man with an exotic accent like Mr. Katema?
"You have nothing to apologize for," he told me, adding a consoling tone atop his accent. "It is I who need to apologize to you for embarrassing you as I did. I don't know you, and I had no idea how you would take my silly jokes. I should have talked to you directly without making you a spectacle."
Why was this man apologizing to me for my being a jackass? He continued to speak to me in a soothing tone. I could feel myself almost imperceptibly melting into his touch.
"Now, as for your being new to this, it doesn't matter. I meet my students where they are. I will teach you what I think you need to achieve the goals you set for yourself. I'm not here to impose my goals or biases on you. I hope that you can learn to trust me and understand that, when I ask you to do something, or teach you a technique, it's for your benefit.
"You said you want to build muscle definition and mass all over. I am pleased to hear that. Some guys tell me they want huge arms for baseball or a massive chest, et cetera. You have more than six hundred fifty muscles in your body. You should build all of them.
"You are correct that the more you use your muscles, the better you will feel overall, as long as you don't injure yourself, of course. I'm here to help prevent injuries. Your body is a magical thing, and you need to respect it and use it to its fullest. It will give you confidence too.
"Next item. You said you want to look better. I don't know what that means to you. Tell me what you want your body to look like."
He was rubbing my left earlobe absentmindedly with his right thumb. I felt myself tilting my head into his hand. I thought I might start purring. Pull yourself together man!
"Well, Mr. Katema, I don't know exactly what I meant," I stammered out.
"Ok. How about if you tell me about a guy who you think has a body that you want yours to look like. Is there a particular man whose body you really like?"
I was still looking up into Mr. Katema's eyes and enjoying the gentle way he was holding my head. I felt suddenly relaxed, protected, and safe. It crossed my mind to lean in and embrace him, but I thought that might be too forward for our first meeting.
"Well, sir, recently I seem to be obsessed with Christopher Atkins from that `Blue Lagoon' movie. I think his body is stunning but not overly developed. I could look at him for hours."
I stopped talking. Did I just admit to lusting after another man? Did I just think of myself as a man?
Mr. Katema didn't react to what I just disclosed but acknowledged that he was listening to me.
"Yes, Andrew, I've seen that movie. Chris is very easy on the eye. It's a good thing that you could look at him for hours since that's how long the movie seems to last."
I chuckled at his lame joke.
"The next time you stare at Christopher Atkins for hours, consider if perhaps you would like to have just slightly more arm definition. He is nicely proportioned, but I wouldn't object to more bicep development to balance his quads.
"Tell me, Andy Andrew, which other men do you like to look at and why?"
I was so mesmerized by his touch that I didn't realize he just asked me outright which men I lust after. I didn't think to hold back or redirect. I would answer any question he asked, or do anything he directed.
"Well, Mr. Katema, I'm conflicted because, in addition to liking Chris Atkins' lean build, I also really like the body of my friend Shahin Pouran who graduated from here with my brother last year. He came over to our house, and the three of us spent the afternoon together naked, as we sometimes do, and I couldn't get enough of feeling that wrestler's body. But he is so much bulkier than Chris Atkins. I don't know that I could achieve that.
"But Shahin is gorgeous. Like, really gorgeous. He is not tall or lithe like Chris. He has a powerful really nice chest and unbelievable thighs and glutes. I think his eyes are beautiful. They are almost a golden brown, and very kind and inviting just like yours. But my favorite part of his body is his lips. Well, his lips and his dick. But his lips are luscious. Well, his lips, his tongue, and his dick. He has a great tongue and really taught me a lot about kissing.
"I have masturbated often remembering the feel of that tongue inside my mouth and those lips kissing along my jaw and then moving down my torso until he was kissing the tip of my penis as he ... ."
OH, MY GOD! SHUT THE FUCK UP! I felt my whole body tense as I realized that I just told someone my gay experiences and outed Shahin in the process.
And I said it all to my gym teacher! I'm going to have a stroke. And on top of that, I told my new gym teacher that his eyes are just like the man I masturbate to and have kissed.
But Mr. Katema didn't move away from me. He gently played with my ear while smiling softly down at me. His eyes were still kind and inviting.
Where is that stroke? I ordered a massive stroke! Please let me have a stroke.
Mr. Katema kept smiling at me. After about thirty seconds of silence, he spoke.
"Why did you stop talking, Andrew? It sounded like a very nice memory for you. But we do have a major problem. You know that, right?"
I mumbled, "I've got so many problems. So many." I wanted badly to run, but the feeling of the teacher's hand on my face kept me in place.
"This is the problem the way I see it," Mr. Katema continued, "As I've said, you have more than six hundred fifty muscles in your body. But no matter what you do, there's no way we are going to come up with an exercise that will give you soft, luscious Shahin Pouran lips.
"I hope that's not a deal breaker for you. I will give my full year's salary to the person who can conjure up that exercise. Are you with me?"
I just stood there blinking, trying to figure out if he actually understood what just happened. Maybe this tall black man with an unfamiliar accent and kind, inviting golden brown eyes didn't actually catch on to what I told him. Maybe it's a cultural thing. I decided to make myself clear.
"Mr. Katema, I just told you that I am gay. I am a homosexual. I am attracted to other men. I like to have sex with other men. I have sucked other men's penises, and they have sucked mine. And more.
"I described some of the men I am attracted to. I told you that I masturbate thinking about a man's lips on my penis, and then I told you that the man whose lips were on my penis has eyes that remind me of yours.
"Oh my God, Mr. Katema, please do not say a word to anyone – not one soul – about Shahin. He is afraid his relatives are going to hire someone in Iran to kill him because he is gay. Please, Mr. Katema."
I started crying. I was on the verge of sobbing at the thought of any harm coming to my precious brother Bird.
Mr. Katema replied, "Yes, Andrew, I know what you told me. I was right here and heard everything you said the first time. Whatever you tell me remains in strict confidence between the two of us. Don't give another thought about it. I have never betrayed anyone's trust. I won't betray yours either, or your lover Shahin.
"Oh, and thank you for saying I have nice eyes. I appreciate that."
He fluttered his eyes at me in a joking manner. I was still confused.
"But you're not freaking out. You're just standing there holding me and smiling at me. Why are you doing that?"
He took a small step closer to me. Our foreheads were only about a foot apart.
"Do you want me to freak out? How would that help you? I agreed to help you and guide you. Do you think that that applies only the resistance machines and the free weights?
"You are my charge now. I take my responsibility to you very seriously. I take my responsibility to all my students very seriously. What kind of man would I be if I didn't?
"You asked me how I got this job and why I wanted to work here.
"I finished my coursework for my doctorate in sports psychology and exercise physiology, but I haven't completed my final research. My advisors at Carnegie Mellon wanted me to design a program based on motivational strategies for college-level athletes. I had a problem with that because the college-age athletes I worked with had issues going back further in their development.
"I thought it would be better to work with younger athletes to prevent problems, rather than expending time and resources to fix problems later on.
"I saw the job opening here and decided to take it so I could fine-tune my research. I don't know whether I will be here for one year, two years or an eternity. Perhaps, after I finish my research, I will decide to move on. Perhaps I will stay so I can meet more fascinating people like you.
"So now you know why I'm here, Mr. Tarnow. Tell me again: why are you here?"
I smiled. "I want to look smoking hot for other guys."
Mr. Katema smiled broadly. "I appreciate a direct and truthful answer, Andy Andrew."
He stepped back, and I felt suddenly lonely without his touch. Then he walked toward the desk as he directed me.
"Ok, Mr. Tarnow, I want to get some baseline measurements and make an initial assessment of your development and alignment. Please undress and come over here."
I didn't think we were going to do all of this today, but, why not? I untied my sneakers and toed them off. They were lined, so I wasn't wearing socks. Mr. Katema was filling out a form with my information.
I pulled off my t-shirt and removed my jeans and underwear in one shot. He finished writing and looked up to give me instructions.
"I apologize, Andy Andrew. I should have been specific in stating that you didn't have to remove your underwear. You can put them back on if you desire. Just so you know, I'll be going out to the weight room to snare one of the wrestlers to fill out the forms while I do the measuring and assessing."
I stood and thought for a moment and then shrugged.
"I'm fine like this, sir. It doesn't matter."
Mr. Katema did what I thought impossible: he raised his eyebrows in surprise. I didn't know they could go any higher.
"As you wish. I'll be back in just a minute."
As Mr. Katema left the office, he let the door stand open while I stood thinking about what transpired.
Then I remembered that the regular buses were boarding now, and I hadn't signed up for the activities bus. I wasn't sure how I would get home if I stuck around this afternoon.
I figured I had better reschedule this assessment. I went out into the weight room to find Mr. Katema and ask about rescheduling. He was talking to one of the wrestlers currently using the leg machine. The student had on compression shorts and a pair of sneakers but was shirtless. His chest and shoulders reminded me vaguely of Shahin's, which was a very good thing.
"Mr. Katema, I just remembered that I don't have a ride home if I stay this afternoon," I started to explain.
The wrestler looked at me and said, huffing, "Dude, you also might want to remember that you're naked in the middle of the weight room."
Shit. I don't know why, but I got that attitude again like I did when Brad and Shahin found me naked in the living room that fateful Friday afternoon.
I answered the wrestler, "Yeah, so?"
Mr. Katema interjected, "Well, Andy Andrew, in my short time here, it's not been typical to be naked in the weight room, but it's not technically against the rules since this is more or less part of the boys' locker room suite.
"I do impose strict rules of hygiene in the weight room for everyone's protection. If you are going to work out naked, you must sit on a towel. And, whether you are naked or not, you must wipe down every apparatus you touch with sanitizing wipes from the dispensers that are all over. Is that understood?" He pointed around the room to all the dispensers.
"Yes, sir," I answered. Did Mr. Katema just give me permission to work out naked?
"As for your transportation problems," Mr. Katema continued, "I'm certain one of us will be happy to see that you get home. Where do you live?"
"On Buchanan Road, sir," I answered.
"I think several of us pass that way. You'll have no trouble finding a ride," Mr. Katema declared.
Another boy on the lat machine heard our conversation and asked, "So, we can work out naked now?"
"Yes, of course," answered Mr. Katema.
"Cool." The boy stood up and yanked off his sweaty clinging shirt, pulled off his sneakers and then struggled out of his shorts and jock strap. He put his sneakers back on, grabbed a towel and sat back down at the lat machine and resumed his set.
"Much better," he commented, smiling.
I looked at the naked wrestler. He was the only other black man in the room besides Mr. Katema. I think he is a junior and wrestles in the 145-pound class. His height and general build looked a lot like me, but his twenty or so pounds of additional weight indicated his greater muscle density. I didn't get a look at his front since he was facing away from me.
It looked to me like a good amount of that additional density was in his thighs and glutes. He appeared to have a shaved head. The shirtless guy on the leg machine started laughing at his teammate. "Jack, what the hell is wrong with you?"
Ah, yes. Jackson Dries. That's who that is. I don't know what the guy on the leg machine was seeing, but from my vantage point, there was nothing wrong with Jackson. Not a thing.
"You know what, this is actually much more comfortable. Mr. Katema, can we have naked gym all the time?"
I opened my mouth, as I always do. "That's a tautology, actually."
"What did you call me," asked a huffing Jackson.
"I didn't call you anything, Jackson. I said that it is a tautology, you know – needless repetition or explanation – to say `naked gym.' The word gymnasium derives from the Greek `gymnasion' which means, literally, `naked exercise.' So you don't have to say `naked gym' since `gym' itself implies being naked. Just like you don't have to say 3:30 p.m. in the afternoon because 3:30 p.m. is, by definition, in the afternoon. That's tautology."
Why can't I stop talking?
"Is that true, Mr. Katema," Jackson asked.
"Yes, Jack, Andy Andrew is exactly correct, 3:30 p.m. is always in the afternoon."
Mr. Katema is a smartass. I like him more by the minute.
"Not that part. The naked gym part," Jackson retorted.
"Yes, Andy Andrew is also correct about that."
"So then we really are supposed to be exercising naked," Jackson asked hopefully.
"I didn't say you are supposed to be naked. That is simply the origin of the word. The Greeks also wrestled and held other athletic competitions, like the Olympics, completely naked, which we no longer do. So there is that to consider."
"But we can be naked." Jackson persisted.
Mr. Katema declared, "Yes, you can be naked, since, as I've said, this area is reserved for boys, just the same as the locker room, showers, sauna, and therapy and massage areas. I do not officially endorse such a practice, nor do I condemn it. It is your choice to make."
"Guys, I'm gonna be naked from now on," Jackson declared.
Mr. Katema turned to me smiling. "You may have created a monster, Mr. Tarnow." Then in a lower voice he continued, "You're never going to see Jackson in clothing again. Are you happy with yourself, Andy Andrew?"
I smiled and shrugged at my conditioning coach. He winked at me, sharing my secret.
Across the room, I noticed another suddenly naked athlete on the pull-up bar. His entire body glistened with sweat, and his soft three-inch penis was nestled in a small patch of black hair. He must have been in the highest weight division.
"Hey, Black Jack, I think you're on to something."
Jackson had finished his set on the lat machine and was wiping down the chest pad and hand grips. He looked every bit as tight and solid from the front. He was completely hairless, and his two and a half inch penis was sitting atop tight medium-large balls.
"Bruiser's got the right idea," Jackson agreed.
Bruiser's actual name was Bruno di Napoli. He was a senior and a grandson of the people who ran our favorite pizza parlor. I made a mental note that I would stay naked next time Bruno delivered to our house, just like I did when Jace was the delivery guy the other week.
Bruiser dropped from the pull-up bar and declared himself finished for the day. Mr. Katema asked if he would come over and assist in my measurement and assessment.
Naked sweaty Bruiser came over to Mr. Katema and me. "Is this ok." He asked, gesturing to his nakedness.
"It's more than OK," I answered. My mouth is going to be the death of me.
"So, you like looking at naked guys, Andy" Bruiser asked.
The blasting caps were firmly in place as I detonated the charges on the closet door. Andy is coming out!
"Very much so."
Bruno/Bruiser was taken aback.
"Well, you can look all you want. Just keep your hands to yourself. Deal?"
Mr. Katema stated to the room, "You will all keep your hands to yourselves, whether you are naked or not."
Bruiser leaned in so only I could hear. "... unless we're alone."
I couldn't tell whether he meant that to be a joke or not. Maybe he was just testing me?
Big sweaty naked Bruiser looked at my naked body up and down. I returned the favor.
"Andy, are you a freshman?"
"You look too old to be a freshman. Did you get held back or something? But you didn't sound stupid when you were teaching us Greek before."
I looked Bruiser in the eye. "I turned thirteen in July. I didn't get held back, I actually skipped first grade, but people tell me all the time that I look older than I am. So, you don't sound stupid either, I guess. Not too stupid anyway."
Bruiser appreciated my forwardness. "You really do look older. I would have guessed that you're fifteen."
"I can show you my papers," I offered.
Naked sweaty Bruiser laughed at my joke. He put his beefy right arm around me and lifted me off the ground on his hip and then addressed the room doing his best imitation of Mr. Katema's accent.
"Gentlemen, this is Andy Tarnow. He is my new favorite student. All of you are runny dog shit."
Everyone laughed at us as Bruiser spun me around. I kind of liked being in on the joke and had to imagine how this naked muscle giant must have looked spinning around a naked scrawny kid.
Mr. Katema laughed too and then addressed Bruiser, "Mr. di Napoli, you have misquoted me yet again. Now put down my student before you break him and have to buy me a new one."
Bruiser put me down but kept his arm around me, shaking me gently.
"He's alright, Mr. Katema. Andy here is a lot stronger than he looks."
Bruiser dropped his arm and gave two smacks to my bare ass and then rubbed my ass cheek.
I smacked his ass three times and then let my hand linger on his ass as I spoke.
"Well, that makes one of us."
I kept my hand on his ass as he looked at me and laughed. His look reminded me of the way my brother Dan looks at me right before he kisses me and tells me he loves me. I wondered if Bruiser's ass would feel as good around my dick as Dan's. I had to cleanse my mind of such thoughts before my dick betrayed my attraction to him.
Mr. Katema redirected our attention to matters at hand. He told me to stand by him so he could get started with his work. I gave Bruiser's ass two more gentle pats before I left him.
He smiled back at me.
We got going with my measurements. Somehow I managed not to throw a boner. I may have plumped up just a bit from time to time. So did Bruiser, but Mr. Katema kept the atmosphere professional and clinical, so we never felt sexually charged.
Mr. Katema finished his dictation to Bruiser, then told me that he wanted to see the symmetry of my limbs and movements to determine if my joints were properly formed and my muscle strength balanced.
He observed me balancing on each foot, walking back and forth across the weight room, then jogging, then running on a treadmill. My dick was slapping my abdomen, and Bruiser laughed at me. I heard Jackson laughing too. When did he become part of this?
"Hope it doesn't break off," Bruiser joked.
"Maybe you should offer to hold it for him," Jackson replied.
Mr. Katema remained professional and reminded me of my posture and technique.
After giving me a few minutes to catch my breath, we moved on to vertical jumping and long jumping. Jackson took charge of wiping off all the equipment I used. Our eyes met several times and he smiled warmly at me. Was I imagining that?
The conditioning coach asked if I could do pull-ups. I wasn't sure. Bruiser kindly offered to lift me up to the bar by grabbing my hips. I managed three pull-ups before dropping off the bar. Bruiser caught me, and I basically slid down his sweaty naked front with my sweaty naked front, and he embraced me.
"Good try, Drewski," he said while patting my ass again. "You really are stronger than you look."
"Thank you." We smiled at each other. Am I `Drewski' now? I liked that Bruiser gave me a nickname.
The last tasks were the shoulder press and chest press using five-pound free weights. Bruiser kindly spread his towel on the weight bench and invited me to sit.
I did ten shoulder presses first with Bruiser standing behind me to spot. It was completely unnecessary with five-pound weights, but I didn't comment.
I took a short break then lay down on the weight bench, and Bruiser once again spotted me so that I was looking up his solid naked torso with his balls hanging inches from my forehead. I could smell his musk.
Mr. Katema admonished me to concentrate on my form.
"It's not easy to concentrate with Bruiser's stinky scrotum hanging in my face," I protested.
Bruiser laughed and spread his thighs, dropping his balls almost to my face.
"That's not stink, Drewski. That's flavor."
It took all my willpower not to get a taste of those balls. Instead, I lay back and laughed. But I felt my penis plump just enough to move from lying on my balls to resting on my hip at about the 2:00 position.
Bruiser looked at me, and we both knew how badly I wanted his balls in my mouth.
Jackson looked at us and smiled knowingly. He was in on it too.
I was shaken out of my reverie by hearing Mr. Katema telling me that his assessment was done for now, as well as the noise of about a dozen football team members coming into the weight room.
My penis quickly deflated as I got off the weight bench while Jackson took the weights from me and wiped them before placing them on the rack.
I hadn't noticed that all but four or five of the wrestlers had left while I was being assessed.
Several of the footballers noticed the three naked guys and halted.
Bruiser greeted a few of the guys and then reached around and grabbed me again in a side embrace. I was once again suspended in the air.
"Hey, guys, guess what? Drewski here says that if you're going to be in the gym here, you have to work out naked or else it's topology."
"Tautology," I corrected.
"That's what I said."
Then Bruiser turned to Mr. Katema to get confirmation. He swung me as if I were a giant teddy bear he won in a carnival game.
Mr. Katema tried to set the record straight
Bruiser concluded, "As I said, you have to get naked."
One of the guys declared, "That's some faggot bullshit."
Most just went on their way, but a few decided they would join the naked workout crew. I just shook my head and laughed as Bruiser kept me on his hip.
"Come on, Drewski, let's hit the showers. You stink."
I laughed as he carried me out of the weight room. "That's flavor."
"We'll see," Bruiser declared. He carried me to his locker while Jackson followed up laughing his solid ass off.
Bruiser set me down at his locker while he pulled out his shower stuff. I told him I didn't have a towel or anything for a shower. Bruiser insisted he would take care of all my needs.
Jackson, Bruiser and I were the only ones in the shower room, which had five shower heads along each of the two longer walls. Jackson started one shower, and Bruiser started the one right next door.
I went to start the one next to Bruiser when he pulled me over and said, "You and I are sharing, Drewski."
We took turns cycling under the hot water to get wet. Then Bruiser grabbed his shampoo and started to shampoo my hair. I grabbed the shampoo bottle out of his hand. He gave me a look. I poured some into my hand and started to shampoo him. He gave me a smile.
We washed our own faces. After we had both rinsed, Bruiser asked, "Wash my back?"
I nodded, took his scrubby and started pouring body wash on it. Bruiser used fairly high-end bath products. He turned his back to me.
I tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned around to look at what was wrong.
"This is the way my dad and I wash each other's backs," I explained as I pulled him into an embrace, reached around his wide torso and started moving the sudsy scrubby around his back and ass.
Bruiser used his hands on my back and ass. We both were extremely thorough and took our time. We were both getting unabashedly erect. I moved between Bruiser's ass cheeks to scrub his crack. He bent his knees to give me easier access. He returned the favor, running his fingers up and down my crack, teasing my anus.
"You guys are adorable," Jackson observed. He was stroking his nice thick six-inch erection.
We both looked over at him and smiled. "Would you like me to wash your back too, Jackson?"
The young black man opened his arms to welcome me. His body felt spectacular against mine. His erection poked my stomach before I flattened it between us. Mine own erection slid under his scrotum and between his thighs. Jackson had about as much muscle as Bird, but Jackson had a thicker layer of flesh. It was soft yet firm.
I took my time washing his back. He didn't mind. I looked up at him to gauge his reaction to what I was doing. He reacted by kissing me. I surprised both of us by entering his mouth with my tongue before he entered mine. I showed him all the skills I had acquired in the past few weeks.
Jackson's kiss was very pleasant, but he was nowhere near as skilled as Bird, or Dan, or especially dad. Jackson maneuvered us under the shower as we kissed so that we could rinse.
"You're a good kisser, Drewski."
"Thanks, Jackson, but I think I need more practice."
We kissed again. Jackson took the lead with his tongue. The top of his tongue was rather rough against mine, but the underside was smooth and slick. I enjoyed getting to know him better.
I turned around and asked Bruiser to wash my front as Jackson held me with his erection lodged against my lower back. Bruiser was thorough. There was apparently one part of my penis that was especially dirty because he had to rub it over and over. I started to moan.
"Go ahead, Drewski. Let it rip."
"Not yet. There's more I want to do," I panted. I had to use all my willpower to squelch my impending orgasm.
Bruiser allowed me to calm down after my near orgasm, and then he lifted his arms to allow me to reciprocate. I hung up his scrubby and used my hands and made sure every inch received attention. His smooth body was glorious to touch.
When I got to his penis, I felt its impressive heft. I slowly stroked him, and he leaned his back against me.
After a couple of minutes, I said to him, "I think I got all the stink off, but I'm not sure I got all the flavor."
I walked around to his front, dropped to my knees and took his seven-inch long and almost six-inch round penis right down to the root. It was the biggest thing I'd had lodged in there, but I hung in and used my swallowing technique to massage his wonderful penis.
There was no doubt Bruiser was enjoying it. There was also no doubt Jackson was enjoying it too. I heard him moan behind me.
"Don't waste it, Black Jack. Fuck me."
My appetites are insatiable. Jackson asked if I were sure. I wiggled my ass insistently. He got on his knees behind me and rubbed his moist cock head around my anus. I was impatient, but I appreciated Jackson's courteous hesitation.
He finally began pushing into me. I moaned around Bruiser's cock, which made him moan too. As I continued to pleasure Bruiser's dick, I used my finger to tickle his anus. I didn't try to insert my finger because I didn't know if it would be slippery enough or welcome.
Apparently, the tickling and sucking were good enough to get the job done. Bruno unloaded in my mouth. I counted three strong shots and then felt more dribble in. His cum was as good as any I had tasted. I wished he could have held off so he could fuck me too.
Jackson continued to fuck me. I did all I could to make it good for him. It was really good for me. I rested my forehead on Bruiser's lower abdomen and begged Jackson to be more aggressive.
I began grunting. Jackson asked if I was doing alright. "Yeah! Yeah! Keep going. Don't ever, ever stop."
Bruiser held on to my shoulders, but he squatted down. I moved onto all fours as Jackson continued to ream me. Bruiser slid under me and took my erection in his mouth. I sixty-nined him even though he had just cum. I moved to his shaved balls. They were still big and heavy. Bruiser surely had another load in him.
Jackson grabbed my hips and really was pounding now. He was ready to blow. I was ready for him. Jackson thrust into me and held still while grunting like an animal. Four, five, six shots went into my rectum. I persisted in using my ass to make it as pleasurable for him as I could.
I had also moved back to Bruiser's dick. He was hard again, throbbing in my mouth. I backed off so as not to overstimulate him.
Jackson panted as he rubbed my hips. "Drewski, Drew, Drew. That was the best!"
Jackson slowly removed his spent phallus from me. I lifted my mouth off Bruiser's dick and spun around. I grabbed his dick and sat down on it in one move. "Your turn, big guy. Make me feel it!"
Bruiser's eyes got wide, but he didn't hesitate to fuck me. I motioned for Jackson to come forward so I could clean off his cock. I appreciated the taste of my own ass combined with his dribbling cum. I checked my oral aggression because Jackson was very sensitive after cumming.
I traced my fingers around his completely shaved pubic area. His brown skin betrayed no stubble.
Bruiser tapped Jackson on the back of his knee and indicated that he wanted to rim him as he fucked me. It seemed like a good plan.
Jackson squealed as Bruiser's tongue gave him anal pleasure. I lifted my head so I could suckle Jackson's big black nipples as I rocked up and down on Bruiser's dick. I knew it wouldn't be long for any of us.
I was squealing too. I moved back down to Jackson's dick. He had another load in him too, and I was going to get it.
I went off first, moaning around Jackson's dick. By the time I squirted my sixth string of cum on Bruiser's chest, the big brute was firing into my ass, mixing his cum with Jackson's. Jackson fired three pretty healthy spurts into my mouth as Bruiser and I were coming down from our highs.
Jackson stood up first. I bent down to kiss Bruiser while holding Jackson's load in my mouth. Bruiser relished the flavor. I was certain it wasn't the first time he tasted it. It was a slower, more passionate kiss than I shared with Jackson. Our hands were again exploring each other. We continued for several minutes, taking turns learning the other's mouth and tongue.
Bruiser tasted sweet. Bruiser kissed sweetly.
After we broke apart, Bruiser said, "Wow, that is a fantastic mouth."
"Thank you, sir."
We washed under the still-running showers without lingering and then turned off the water. We couldn't help smiling at each other repeatedly. I suddenly realized that my clothing and backpack were still in Mr. Katema's office.
"Oh shit, I have to go back to the office to get my clothing."
Jackson said, "I think that may be a problem. Didn't you hear Mr. Katema say goodbye? I guess you didn't because you two were tickling each other's tonsils at the time."
"Shit," I exclaimed. "What if my clothing is locked in his office? I can't go home naked in broad daylight, though it would be fun!"
Bruiser vigorously dried me and then dried himself with the same towel. He tried to assure me. "Let's go put my stuff in my locker, then I'll go with you to Mr. Katema's office."
We made our way to Bruiser's locker, and I was surprised to see my backpack sitting on the bench with my jeans, t-shirt, and underwear neatly folded in a pile next to the backpack. My sneakers were on the floor under the bench.
"I guess Mr. Katema took care of you bro," Bruiser said.
"I love that man," I blurted out.
"So it's not just me, is it," Jackson asked.
"He's a special guy," Bruiser agreed. Then Bruiser reached down and picked up my underwear.
"I need these."
I laughed and started dressing. I guess I'm going home commando.
The guys from the football team started coming into the locker room as I sat to put on my sneakers. I noticed that more than half of them were already naked and carrying their pads and uniforms. Jackson was pulling up his jeans, but Bruiser was still completely naked as he rearranged his shower supplies in his caddy bag.
The guy who remarked that it was "faggot bullshit" was one of the naked ones. He put his stuff down on a bench in the next row and then came around to where we were. I looked at him with circumspection.
"Yo, Bruiser," the guy called out as the two naked teens moved closer to each other. "I gotta say that your idea of naked gym is pretty good. I really like working out naked. I'm gonna do it from now on, even when we work out at my house.
"Listen, I'm sorry I said what I did back there. It was stupid. I shouldn't have used that word."
Bruiser laughed and grabbed his shoulder. "It's cool, Mike, I never listen to anything you say anyway. We're good. But maybe you should apologize to my friend Drew here."
I looked up. I guess I'm Drew. I didn't know it, but I was to be Drew from then on. Mike was about an inch taller than Bruiser, but probably twenty pounds lighter. He had wisps of hair on his chest and an unkempt bush around his dick. He extended his hand in my direction.
"Hi Drew, I'm Mike. I, uh, I'm sorry for saying what I did before. It won't happen again."
I stood up and looked him in the eye. He had pretty green eyes. "It's fine, Mike. I am a faggot, after all, so you weren't wrong. But maybe you can call me `gay' next time?"
Mike laughed nervously. "Really? How about if I just call you `Drew' instead? Hey, are you gonna come to my house to work out with Bruiser and Black Jack? I got a sweet set up in my basement. And, from now on, we're working out naked. What do you say, Drew? You look like you could use our expert guidance."
I laughed. "Does it show that much? Mr. Katema is going to design a program for me."
"You're kind of scrawny, Drew. I think Bruiser and Jack like a little more meat on their men, so you have some work to do to make yourself pretty for them."
Jackson stepped forward and hugged me from behind. "Drew is perfect the way he is, but I'm glad to help him build muscle, if that's what he wants." Jackson kissed my cheek, sniffed my skin, and then kissed me again.
I swooned as Jackson held me. Mike patted his shoulder. "See you guys at my house tomorrow after school. Bring a towel."
I stood dumbfounded as Jackson continued to hold me in the locker room with most of the football team around us getting undressed for their showers. It felt liberating to have the jocks know that I'm gay and be accepted by them. Why was I so scared before? They're just guys. Beautiful muscle guys.
I was going to be one of them.
_ _ _ _ _
Tian laughed at my story and licked my erect penis. I didn't realize that I had gone fully hard while telling him about fucking my friends Bruiser di Napoli and Jackson Dries in the high school shower. Tian's wide, talented tongue was bringing me intense pleasure. I felt precum running down my nine-inch shaft. He didn't miss a drop.
I sighed at the pleasure before talking again.
"That day in the weight room was one of the last times I wore underwear. I kept `losing' them to Bruiser, so I figured I'd stop wasting money replacing them.
"It was also how I started my habit of working out naked whenever possible. That year more than a third of us stayed naked in the weight room. Several others wore jock straps. I learned a lot of self-control over popping boners, especially when Bruiser was around. I didn't have to worry about that when we worked out at Mike's house."
We were heading down Interstate 77 on the east side of Columbia. I was going to go through the city to point out some landmarks to Tian but decided to take the fastest route to our house.
We exited Interstate 77 and were just minutes from our new house. I couldn't wait to see the progress on the new place. I had warned Tianbao that it wasn't totally finished, but it should be livable.
He said that he'd be happy living in a tent as long as he was with me. How could I ask for a better son?