Jeremy's Swim Lesson 13

This material is intended only for an adult audiences who wish to view it, and wherein it is legal to do so at your age at your location in your circumstances.  This work is fictional and intended for entertainment only. If you find homosexual conduct offensive, are a minor, do not wish to view or read such material, or it is illegal for you to do so, WTF are you doing here? Put the browser down and back away.
Other stories are available at Ray's Stories
Thoughts and ideas welcomed at the feedback page located here
I retain all rights and ownership of this material and grant Nifty Archive a non-exclusive, worldwide, royalty-free, perpetual, and non-cancelable license to display the work. You should donate and help keep them up and running.
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

Jeremy's Tale

 Part Thirteen

Dad woke me up in the new way, without opening my door. I felt that embarrassment again. It was just plain humiliating to know that my parents knew that I got erections! And to think of my mom seeing it! Oh, geeze.

I rolled over onto my back, threw back the blanket, and looked down at the culprit. It was all perky and ready, tingling, and just asking to be taken care of. I scowled at it and got out of bed. I looked down at it as it stuck up, almost pointing straight up. It bobbed a little with my heart beat. For the first time, I wished it wouldn't be hard in the mornings. I'd loved having it ready and willing first thing, and loved taking care of it, but now it was a source of embarrassment with my parents.

I remembered Chet and Howie complementing it. I bent it downward so that I could see how long it was. They'd both said it was large for my age. It was nearly as long as theirs, I knew. I also knew it was longer than most of the guys in my grade in the showers in gym.

I went to my desk and got out the ruler. I hadn't used it for a long time. When I'd first entered puberty, I'd measured it almost every day, waiting for it to grow. When it started to grow, I got so excited. I measured it daily until it seemed to slow down. That had been over a month ago. Now I placed the ruler alongside of my erection and stared down at the numbers along the side of the wooden ruler. I stared. I leaned down and adjusted the ruler so that it was certainly at the base and not back too far. I blinked and stared.

In a month's time, it had crossed the seven-inch mark. I knew that six inches was about average, just over, and I'd been overjoyed when I had crossed that mark nearly a year ago. But over seven inches? I wondered what it would be like when I turned fifteen in a couple of months.

I let go of it and it bounced up and slapped my skin before settling back pointing upward. A drop of that clear fluid leaked out of the slit in the end of it. I swiped it up with a finger and put it in my mouth. My prick twitched and begged to be taken care of. It was so tempting, but I ignored it and got ready for morning chores.

I nearly jogged through the kitchen, barely moaning, "Morning," at Mom on my way through. It was hard to do the chores. The humidity was awful already. I was covered in sweat even before the sun broke over the horizon. The shower was pure bliss. I got ready for school and looked at myself in the mirror over the sink. I wondered if Mitchell would find me attractive. I wondered if anyone would. Chet and Howie said I was, but they were friends. Now, anyway. I wondered just how honest they had been about that. When I remembered how the guys at the poker games had teased me about being cute, I grinned.

"Maybe I'm not so bad looking," I said to myself.

I'd been told often enough lately that I was turning out to be rather handsome, and I was willing to believe it. Almost, anyway. I saw how my chest and shoulders and arms were nicely bulked with firm muscles, and the rest of my body was lean and strong. I saw that I would probably find myself attractive if I were someone else. Then I remembered thinking the same thing just the other day, while standing at the sink and looking at myself.

"Yeah, I'm not so bad looking," I said almost firmly.

I felt really good about myself for a change. For the second time. Maybe more. I wasn't so concerned that I was a complete dork. I wasn't so concerned that I was a homosexual.

I had breakfast, talking with my folks about school and the baseball team. Not to mention the extracurricular physical fitness course. Dad said he was proud of me again. Even Mom said so. I felt my face get hot.

"You're becoming a worthy young man," Mom said.

I groaned in embarrassment and shook my head. I was glad to get out of the house and onto the bus. I talked with Chris and Mark almost like normal. I worried that they would figure out their friend was a homosexual, but it wasn't such a huge worry now. I wasn't going to do something to alert everyone to it, so there wasn't some huge risk looming every day.

The only thing that kept worrying me was tripping up while talking to Mitchell. My stomach tightened every time I remembered that he was going to be in homeroom, and other classes, and gym, and at baseball practice.

"Just let it roll off you. No one can tell. Just talk to Mitch like he's just one of the guys. He is."

So easy to say, I thought. If only it was as easy to do.

As I sat in homeroom with the guys, I tried my best to be prepared when Mitchell came in. I was ready to not stare at him, or be shocked at his handsomeness, or unprepared for his butt as he sat down. But I was nowhere near ready when he came in wearing blue track shorts and a blue t-shirt.

Those track shorts were obscene! I was sure that anyone sitting in front of him who looked back would be able to see up the short legs and see his briefs! My prick exploded into an erection that was painfully trapped and caused me even more discomfort. And his t-shirt was almost too tight. I could see the outline of his nipples and his pectoral muscles, and it clung to his sides. I saw the indent of his navel. And before he sat down, I saw how those shorts seemed to hug and highlight his bulge. When he swung around to sit, his buttocks were outlined and tightly confined.

I swallowed as my heart hammered, realizing that I had been staring at him the entire time he had walked from the door to his desk. I forced my eyes to meet his. He nodded and smiled nicely. I tried to do exactly the same.

"Hey, guys," he said, his beautiful eyes sparkling and his awesome lips smiling.

They returned his greeting and I took those seconds to work on breathing normally.

"Hey, Jer," he said, just to me.

His separate greeting for me made me feel as if he had pointed at me and screamed, "Homosexual!" I did my best to ignore that feeling.

"Uh, yeah, hi," I said, hoping to God that the guys didn't assume anything, or hadn't noticed how I had stared at him as he entered.

I joined the usual talk of sports and girls until the bell rang and we headed to our classes. Walking beside Mitchell I felt as if everyone knew I was nearly drooling. I sort of knew that no one could tell what I was thinking, and I wasn't looking at his groin or touching him in some weird way, so there was no risk of everyone knowing. But that really didn't matter. I couldn't stop worrying about it.

The day went along in the usual manner. Classes with Mitchell were pure torture, and classes without him were filled with thoughts of him. Even while I was talking to Katy, I thought about Mitch. Gym class was especially hard. In more ways than one.

It was so hot outside, and the humidity so high, that we stayed inside and did more stretching and light exercises. And of course, Mitchell and I paired off together.

Touching him, and being touched by him, kept me entirely hard all class long. I was sure he noticed. I noticed that he was, too. I wished having erections all the time wasn't such a part of being a teenager. It was just plain humiliating. Doing sit-ups with Mitch kneeling on my feet, while hard as hell, was just plain awful. So was kneeling on his feet while he did sit-up, his erection poking almost out of the leg of his gym shorts. We talked and joked, and pretended that we didn't notice.

In the showers, I did my best not to look at Mitch as he showered next to me, talking. I saw Frank from the poker party. He was probably in another gym group, because we hardly saw each other except in the showers. This was the first time I had seen him since the poker party. He was such a dork. Awkward and clumsy, some acne, wild hair, and glasses. Dorkus completus. He came into the showers with two other dorks, and then he saw me. His face turned dark red and he tried not to look again, but he did. He grinned a little. I nodded at him, then he got even redder and barely nodded back at me. I saw his eyes go downward a little, and I knew where he was looking, and then they got bigger before he looked away and didn't look back.

He wasn't very well developed yet. He barely had a few hairs around it, and it hadn't even grown much yet. His sack was barely more than a shriveled prune. I wondered what Dennis saw in him again. But then, Dennis was a dork too, and wasn't all that grown either.

Back at our lockers, I snuck a peek at Mitch's ass when he bent over to put on his briefs. God! The things I wanted to do to it! And even when he was dressed, he was incredible! Those shorts should be illegal for him to wear! His great legs were on display, and they really shouldn't be.

I was so glad that I didn't blow full wood. It sure tried, though. I guess I was getting good at keeping my thoughts from allowing it to get fully hard.

Baseball practice was awful. It was so hot! And sticky. No breeze, even. But we practiced. Everyone was soaked with sweat in the first minutes. Seeing Mitch in our gym clothes, soaked with sweat, clinging to his body, it was... well, I was so hard! And I knew anyone could tell if they looked. My shorts were so wet they were almost see-through. Just like Mitch's. And everyone else's. Thank God that we did skills, throwing and catching, mostly, so that we weren't close to each other and it wasn't easy to tell that I was sporting wood.

I kept my eyes off Mitch and everyone else as we got out of our soaked clothes and showered. The shower felt so good! I didn't use hardly any hot, and let the cool water run over my aching head and down my overheated skin all over my body. It was so good! It felt so good, that... yeah. But thankfully, it wasn't just me. I think almost everyone got hard. And when I accidentally saw Mitchell next to me, I actually gasped.

I slammed my eyes shut and tried to forget it. I knew I would never forget that glimpse. If I lived to be a hundred, I'd get fully hard when that memory came up. It was probably seven inches, too. And so straight and round, so smooth and perfect. I mean, it was like a steel pipe! A pink and flesh-colored pipe. With a cone-shaped end. And two walnuts hanging in a wet, leather, tobacco pouch beneath it.

I couldn't breathe. It was like I was drowning. I had to pant and work to keep from falling over. I'd never been so close to fainting in my life! I leaned on the wall with both hands and pretended that I was just letting the water run over me in relief.

"Hard day, huh?" Mitch asked casually.

"Uh-huh," I grunted, eyes still tightly shut.

I felt as if I were on a tilt-a-whirl at the county fair. I had to swallow several times and hold onto the wall to keep upright. Many of my muscles were shaking. I was afraid that I might pass out or puke. Or both.

I stayed there for a long time. I knew I was hard, and so were many others. Jokes were being made and guys were throwing jokes back about it. My heart finally began slowing. My breath steadied and my muscles stopped shaking.

I opened my eyes and stood up with a deep sigh. I glanced at the floor and saw Mitch's feet. I didn't dare look upward. Not a single inch. It didn't go down. I finished washing and felt like I could maybe walk back to my locker without falling on my ass. I dried off at the end of the shower area, wishing that we could take the towels to our lockers. I sat down on the bench so hard that I nearly hurt my ass. Then I reached to my locker just as Mitch walked up and opened his. I dared to glance his way. It wasn't hard now, but it was so plump and full, hanging downward from his wet pubic hair.

Mine stayed hard as I quickly got dressed. Mitchell was talking about how well I could throw, and how if I wanted to, I could probably be a pitcher. I glanced over to reply and saw that he was hard again, and acting like it was nothing.

"I don't have the control," I protested, forcing myself to turn away and not drop to my knees and...

"You could probably learn it," he said, bending over to step into his briefs.

I glanced. His tan ended below his waist and above his legs, only his buttocks themselves paler than the rest of him. And they were so smooth and round. So full and firm. Seen from the side like that, as he bent over, they were simply awesome. I swallowed and tried to forget the image. I yanked my briefs up over my boner and reached for my jeans.

"Well, if you want some tips, I'd be glad to. I hope I make pitcher. At least backup."

"If you're good enough. Next week the coaches'll be looking at positions, so, good luck."

"Thanks."

He pulled his track shorts up over himself and I sighed with relief. While he was still admirably attractive in them, at least he wasn't naked. Nearly, though. They were just so insanely short. And tight. And he was so damned sexy in them.

"Still going to the swim lessons this weekend?" he asked.

"Yeah. You still going to the free swim?"

Oh, God, was that going to be torture! At least I'd be in the water, able to hide how excited I would be.

"Sure am. Looking forward to it."

"Cool."

A hand slapped me on the back after I got my shirt in place. I turned to see Chet smiling at us.

"Hey, guys," he said cheerily.

"Hi, Chet," Mitch said happily.

"Hey, Chet," I said, grinning, glad that I would soon be away from Mitchell.

"Saw you guys today. You both have good arms."

"Thanks," we said together.

"Think I'll have a chance at pitcher?" Mitch asked.

"I think you have a chance, sure," Chet said to him.

"Great. I'm really pretty good."

"I bet. I think Jer here could make a good outfielder. He's fast on his feet, and can throw pretty far."

"He's got great traps and delts," Mitchell said, grinning. "And his lats are great, too."

He blushed then, and looked embarrassed.

"Yeah, well, you're in damned good shape, too," Chet said to him, and slapped his back. I saw that Chet slid his hand down Mitch's back. Mitch seemed to notice, too, and got even redder and looked surprised. "Yeah, firm. Nice."

I was stunned that Chet would almost feel him up like that. The other guys in the locker room didn't notice. I sure did, though, and even wished I had. I almost ached to.

"Hey, Mitch. I got an idea. Jer and I go to my place sometimes and do some skills drills. Would you like to join us?"

"You do?" Mitch asked, then looked at me.

I nodded, not knowing how else to react.

"Sure," Chet said. "Sometimes we goof off, but sometimes we actually do get down to working out. So, how about it? Got time?"

"Yeah, sure. I don't have to be home until dinner, I guess."

"Cool. You can call from my place and let your folks know where you are if you want."

"Cool. That'd be great. I'd really like some tips from a senior on the team," Mitch said, grinning.

"Great. Just come with Jer to my car and we'll head over to my place. I'll get ya home for dinner. What time?"

"About six."

"Great. See you guys at the car."

Chet slapped us on our backs and then jogged off.

"Wow!" Mitch said, obviously in awe. "A senior helping us out! And you've been getting tips all the time and didn't say a thing! Jerk!"

I thought furiously, then said, "He said not to talk about it. He didn't want a bunch of frosh bugging him and stuff."

"Oh, yeah. Get that. This is so cool!" He was obviously in bliss. "Tips from a senior!"

"Yeah. Chet's pretty cool," I said, meaning it.

We chatted about baseball as we walked to Chet's car. As I held the seat forward so Mitch could climb into the back seat, I stared at his butt. It was just so perfect. His entire body was completely wonderful. Even his smell. The soap he used and the deodorant. That squeaky clean scent. My body went nuts!

I was glad to sit down in front where he couldn't see my erection. Chet arrived in just a few seconds. When he sat down and while he was putting the key in the ignition he glanced over and saw the bulge in my jeans. My erection was so obvious. He grinned at me, then winked. I felt my eyes go wide and my mouth hang open for a moment before I tried to hide them. Then I put my books on my lap. Chet grinned again.

"Okay, guys. I'll let you know what the coaches will be looking for next week."

He told us what to expect, and what would be asked of us next week. We asked questions and got answers. I could hear the glee in Mitch's voice.

When we pulled up at Chet's house, another car was in the driveway. I sort of recognized it, but I couldn't place it.

"Howie's here," Chet said.

"Who's Howie?" Mitch asked.

"My bud. He's not on the ball team. He's a wrestler."

"He is?" Mitch asked, his voice showing how excited he was at the news.

"Sure is. Made semi-finals at state last year. Probably going again this year."

They talked wrestling as we headed toward the house. Inside, Howie was sitting on the couch in just a pair of older gym shorts that were fairly tight. I was suddenly incredibly worried that Mitchell would think it was queer.

"Howie," Chet said as we walked into the room, "This is Mitchell. He's going out for the baseball team, and seems he's really into wrestling, too."

"Oh, yeah?" Howie said, standing and smiling.

His bare chest made me worry again that Mitch would think it was weird he was in Chet's house without a shirt on. The dark hair on his chest nearly outlined his big nipples, and accented his strong pecs. The trail of hair leading downward also highlighted his strong abs. And the way it disappeared into the waist of the shorts only pointed out that he was nearly naked. His strong legs were fairly hairy, too. He was at least as hairy as most of the coaches, and hairier than a couple of them.

"Yeah! I was second at my old school. But this year I want to play ball instead," Mitch said.

He didn't seem worried or anything, and that let me relax some.

"Wuss. The real men go out for wrestling," Howie said, grinning as he shook Mitch's hand.

"Hey, now," Chet complained with a grin, then launched himself at Howie.

He collided with Howie in mid-leap, and dragged Howie to the floor, tearing his hand from Mitchell's. They began an epic wrestling match. Mitchell was entranced. I would have been, but I found myself looking at Mitch. His eyes were glued to Chet and Howie as they grappled across the wide floor. He was rooting for one, then the other, depending on who was at the disadvantage. And he was clearly having a good time. Finally, Howie put Chet into an arm lock and Chet had to concede. Howie helped Chet to his feet. They were both grinning.

"You had the advantage with me in jeans," Chet complained.

"Then get them off and we'll go again," Howie said, back-handing Chet across the chest.

Chet began unbuttoning his jeans. I felt my eyes pop open wide and my dick start swelling. Chet kicked off his shoes and dropped his jeans. He was wearing white briefs, like usual, and I could tell that he was more than a little excited. The second he got his legs out of the jeans, Howie pounced. He leaped and took Chet into a bear hug.

I looked at Mitchell. He was grinning and red-faced. And holding his hands together in front of himself. He noticed me looking at him and swallowed, then shrugged and laughed before looking back at the guys wrestling. Chet went down under Howie and they began struggling. The view was incredible. Chet's butt wasn't hidden at all by the tight, white briefs, and his privates were pretty much fully visible in them. Particularly when his legs were spread and the leg openings of his briefs allowed a view of them. His legs were strong and powerful, and watching them work as he wrestled with Howie was simply breath-taking. And erection-inspiring.

I glanced at Mitchell again, and I was sure he was as excited as I was. His eyes were nearly bulging out of his skull, and his grin was huge. And his face was so red. Not to mention his mouth was hanging open. And he still held his hands together in front of his pants.

When Chet lost again, Howie helped him to his feet again, both of them breathing fast and hard and starting to sweat. And to be frank, I was embarrassed at their erections. They adjusted them as if they were normal, as if everyone had a hard penis at all times and it was absolutely normal to have to adjust it all the time. Like hitching up a belt or pulling up socks.

"I might beat you sooner or later," Chet said, laughing.

"Not as long as there's a sun in the sky," Howie replied.

"Sure, ya show-off," Chet said, grabbing his jeans from the floor then carrying them over his arm. "I'm gonna go get into some shorts. You guys get a drink or something and I'll be right out and we'll work on some skills."

Howie bent his knee up to his chest, then the other, and said, "So, how about a quick match, Mitch?"

I heard Mitch swallow. I almost laughed at that. He nodded, then looked for a place to put his books down.

"Hand them to Jer. He knows where to put 'em."

Mitch handed me his books, then stepped toward Howie and began stretching his arms.

"Off with the shirt ," Howie said, stretching his arms now.

Mitch stopped, pulled his shirt off, and handed it to me. I took it, an embarrassing idea coming to me instantly. As soon as Mitch and Howie squared off, I went to Chet's room and paused in the hall to put Mitch's shirt to my face. I inhaled deeply. It was like a drug. My body shivered and my erection throbbed. I loved his smells. I smelled it again, in a long, deep inhalation, then groaned quietly as I exhaled.

Chet saw me. He grinned. He'd come out of his room and seen me. I was humiliated. He waved me toward him, grinning.

"You got it bad, huh?" he asked quietly.

"Shut up," I said, unable to bring up the anger I thought belonged with the words.

His hand flashed out and grabbed my groin before I knew it. I backed up by reflex. He followed and kept his hand in place.

"Damn! Hard as iron!" he said, groping me.

My body trembled suddenly and I inhaled involuntarily. I shivered again when he stepped closer and inhaled over Mitch's shirt.

"Smells like soap and shampoo to me. A little deodorant or cologne. What do you smell?"

"I... uh... I mean... um..."

"Yeah. Thought so. You smell Mitch. Makes you shiver and your breath short."

My eyes got wide.

"Yeah, though so," Chet said, his smile going wider. "You got it bad."

"I... I..."

"Don't bother denying it. I saw it in practice today. And just now again in the hall. You got it bad. And he's hot. Really good looking. And..." he paused, leaned closer to me, and whispered, "I think today, we'll find out if there's any chance he's like us."

When he leaned back, I couldn't talk. I wanted to ask how we'd know, how we'd find out, but the idea that we could possibly know today left me wordless and nearly thoughtless.

Chet nodded at me, smiled, and then said, "Come on, before Howie has him naked and pinned face-down."

I gasped, mostly at the image he put in my head.

Chet took our books and Mitch's shirt into his room, then came out and we walked back into the den. Howie had Mitch nearly pinned, but Mitch slipped out of his grasp and back to his feet in a slick, quick maneuver.

"Hey, nice one," Howie said as he returned to his feet.

"Thanks," Mitch said, grinning.

I immediately noticed that Mitch had a swelling in his track shorts. One that wasn't typical, and more than just hinted at his size and condition. I felt my heart sort of flutter. He was simply stunning. All over. His arms were strong and lean, his chest was firm and smooth, his sides rippling with muscle but not bulging, and his leg muscles moved smoothly and quickly under his tanned skin. The glimpses of the hint of hair under his arms sent chills through me.

Howie was huge next to Mitch. Probably nearly a foot taller, broader, hairier, stronger, bulkier. Massive by comparison. Nice looking, well built, cute, but just nothing as hot as Mitch. Mitch was just perfection in motion. His sandy-blond hair was the perfect length, and even looked great all messed up from wrestling. His deep brown eyes were locked on Howie, judging every little move, sparkling with the fun he was having. His lips were luscious and deeply red from his exertion, standing out even more against the slight tan of his round, gentle face. He was simply adorable.

I jumped a little when Chet's hand pressed against my butt. I looked up and he grinned at me and winked. I laughed, then slipped my hand behind us and onto his buttocks. They felt great. Firm and rounded. I wondered what Mitchell's felt like.

The excitement of watching Mitchell wrestle with Howie, while Chet rubbed my butt and I rubbed his, it was just incredible!

Mitch's short shorts kept giving the most incredible glances up the legs. Flashes of white material and pale skin, and even light-brown hair at times. And I was sure that more than once, I saw pink. And once, when Mitch was on his back, his legs wide and up in the air, his briefs had been pulled to one side and I saw the dark crack behind his scrotum. That breath at that moment was so shaky that Chet elbowed me and grinned at me.

All of it was so thrilling that I was afraid I would reach orgasm. It was jumping around down there like it was alive all on its own. The deep tickling tingle was almost unbearable. If I wasn't worried that they would all know why, I would have run to the bathroom and tugged it off as quickly as I could have.

Howie and Mitchell went at if for several more minutes before Howie got Mitchell into a leg lock that Mitchell didn't have the strength to break. Mitch tried, but he just didn't have the muscle. Watching Mitch's legs and back muscles as he struggled was making my breath come faster. Howie tightened his hold until Mitch grunted in what sounded like pain.

"Ow! Okay! Shit!" Mitchell called out loudly.

Howie released Mitchell's leg and sat up, then leaned over Mitchell as he curled up over his leg.

"I felt it give. You okay?" Howie asked, grabbing Mitchell's left leg at the knee.

"Damn! I think the muscle or tendon tore."

"On your back," Howie said firmly. "Be careful."

Mitchell rolled onto his back, holding his leg with both hands and grimacing and hissing his breath through his teeth. Chet and I joined them on the floor. Howie pulled Mitch's leg out straight. Mitch groaned and gasped in pain.

"Above or below the joint?" Howie asked, holding Mitch's knee with both hands as Mitch propped himself up on his hands.

"Above."

"Semi or bicep?"

"Inside. Semi," Mitch gasped.

Howie's hands moved up Mitch's thigh, squeezing as he went, one inch at a time. It was nearly amazing to watch Howie's strong hands move up Mitch's firm, strong, lean thigh. I so badly wanted to explore it myself that I was hugely jealous. I felt bad feeling jealous when Mitch was hurt. When Howie's hands reached nearly to Mitch's short track shorts, Mitch jerked and gasped.

"Probably pulled the muscle. Shouldn't have used so much of my own, I guess," Howie said.

"Lucky, is all," Mitchell said, grinning.

"Oh, just wait until your leg is back to normal. We're going again," Howie said, grinning.

Then Howie squeezed Mitch's thigh again, and Mitch gasped in pain.

"Going to be sore a couple of days. Sorry, Mitch," Howie said.

"Oh well. Should be okay by Monday. I hope, anyway."

"Let's check and see if it's a tear or a sprain, okay?"

"You know how?"

"Sports med, and six years in wrestling, I know a lot," Howie said, adjusting his grip on Mitch's thigh. "Bend the knee as far as you can."

Mitch slowly bent it until his foot was against his butt.

"Now, extend it. Slow and easy."

Mitch struggled, but he got his leg out straight.

"Keep it straight and lift it."

Once he had his leg pointed nearly straight up, Howie put both hands under his leg and said, "Push down."

"Ow!" Mitch cried almost instantly.

"Push down. Try."

"Ow-w-w-w-w," Mitch groaned as he pushed downward against Howie's hands.

"Okay," Howie said, then lowered Mitch's leg himself.

Then Howie began massaging the back of Mitch's thigh, up high, nearly going into the short leg openings of those damned short track shorts.

"Oh, God," Mitch groaned as Howie's hands began moving the sore muscle under the skin. "Oh, wow, hurts but feels great."

I so badly wanted to run my hands over that smooth, tanned, firm thigh. I stared, entranced, as Howie's hands worked the muscle, his fingers barely slipping under the back of the short legs. Mitch sighed and fell onto his back.

"Put your arms over your head," Howie said.

Mitch did, sighed loudly, closed his eyes, and Howie grinned up at Chet and me. He nodded down at Mitch. I didn't know why at first, but then I saw. Mitch's shorts were bunched a little over his hurt thigh, and his white briefs were visible. Better, the pale skin near his briefs was visible. And even better, the very end of his erection was visible, pushing against the white material.

I felt my dick do a dance. Chet elbowed me. We grinned at each other for a moment. Howie winked at me. I probably turned Coke red.

Mitch sighed again. It was the sound of an angel smiling. He was smiling a little, his eyes closed, his bare chest and the short hairs in his arm pits just barely glistening with sweat, his nipples hard, his stomach rising and falling with his breaths, and I could see the end of his erection pushing against his briefs through the leg of his short shorts.

Chet elbowed me and put a finger to his lips, then motioned for me to follow him when he stood up. We went to his room and he closed the door.

"Howie's gonna tell him we went somewhere, won't be back for a bit. So they can be alone. He's gonna find out."

My guts fell into my butt. I started shaking. I was both elated and jealous. Hugely jealous!

It's so unfair! I thought. I should be out there feeling his nice legs! I'm in love with him, not Howie! I want to do that!

Woah! Wait up! Did I just say that? I'm in love with Mitchell?

Oh, holy shit! I did! I am! I am in love with him. I so love him! He's so... oh, God! So fucking perfect!

Chet was smiling at me. I didn't know what to say, how to react, what to do.

"We'll wait in here for a while. Howie'll come in here saying he's going to get something when he's ready. When he gives up or finds out. Okay?"

I swallowed and tried not to be jealous. He was trying to find out if I had a chance with Mitch. He was trying to help me out. But I was still so nearly angry that Howie was pawing him. Alone. Not me.

"We can talk about baseball practice, if you want. Or watch television. Whatever," Chet offered.

I wanted to go take over for Howie. I wanted to be with Mitch. But I knew I couldn't do what Howie could. I had to wait. I shrugged.

"We could mess around," Chet said, then tousled my hair.

I sighed, smoothed down my hair, gave him the usual grimace about it, then sighed. I put my hands in my pockets.

"How about we just talk about Mitchell?"

"Like what?" I asked almost angrily.

"Like how much you're into him."

I sighed and tried not to grin.

"You got it so bad."

I sighed again, and said, "I know. He's just so..."

"Yeah. I can see that. He's hung, too. Probably just like you."

I snickered and turned red.

With nothing I wanted to say about Mitchell at the moment, I went to our books and got out my science book.

"I guess I might as well do homework," I said, sitting on the bed with the book and my notebook.

Chet sat next to me and helped. He pointed out what he remembered was on tests, and what was important to know. We got through the entire assignment and then did my math. When we had nearly finished my english lesson, the door opened. Howie came in smiling, then closed the door quietly.

"That guy is built!" he said, still grinning.

I knew that, what I wanted to know was what he had discovered. If anything.

"So?" I asked breathlessly, putting the book aside rapidly and sitting upright.

"So. While I was loosening up his semi muscle, I got him talking."

"And?" I asked, almost angry that he wasn't telling me everything already.

"And, I even got him to talk about you, Jer."

"And?" I asked loudly.

"Shhh!" Howie said. "You're supposed to be out somewhere," he said softly. "He's in the kitchen, getting some juice. I told him to stay in the chair, not get up until I came back so his muscle didn't cramp."

"Fine," I said softly. "What'd he say about me?"

"Jer, you're one of the luckiest sons of a bitches I know. I'm not sure, it's not like I asked if he was like us or not, but... well, he sure seems to like you, a lot. He's really looking forward to the swimming lessons on Saturday, and seeing you in swimming trunks, all wet."

"He is?" I gasped.

"Oh, heck yeah. I thought it was a great sign that he said you had a great body. He said you're in great shape. He said when you guys were doing stretches, that he noticed you were really well built, had good muscles, and was really nicely limber."

I felt myself blush quite a bit. It was hugely embarrassing, but even more fascinating and wonderful.

"Better, I mentioned that I'd seen you in the showers once, when I went to meet Chet. I said I'd noticed you were pretty well built, down there."

My face felt even hotter.

"He said he'd noticed. That's a really good sign. And even better, I said I'd noticed he was, too, while I was massaging his leg. He blushed and grinned really cute. And I asked if I was going up too high. He said no. By then, I was almost touching his prick. So, he's not real worried about that stuff. He even seemed, well, interested that I should go further."

"Oh, God," I whispered.

"I touched it. Brushed against it. He grinned a little when I did. Didn't open his eyes or anything, but didn't jerk away or make me stop. So, Jer, I kinda think you got a chance with him."

"Oh, God," I whispered again, grinning ear to ear.

"He probably would have let me take his shorts down. I really think he would have. I mean, I was working his butt for a little bit. I mean, he lifted up a bit so I could actually rub his butt cheek. Not his leg. And he didn't seem to care, even smiled, and stayed totally hard."

"Oh, God," I whispered yet again, almost unable to breathe.

"You'll have to go slow, I think, but if you play it right, I think you have a chance," Howie said, then punched my shoulder. "Lucky son of a bitch."

"Oh, God! What do I do?" I asked, simply having to know.

"Well, I'd say you do what you've been doing. Nothing. All week. You go to the swimming lesson on Saturday, then hang around the pool after with me and Chet, and the four of us have a little talk."

"Talk?"

"Yeah. Chet and me will have some interesting things to talk about with you guys. We'll get into his head and figure out how to get him to come to you."

"Oh, God. You think you can do that?"

"Oh, I think so. If we don't have him coming to you, we'll pave the way for you to bring it up with him alone. So you guys can end up talking about stuff together, and figuring things out together," Chet said, grinning.

"How?"

"You'll see, Saturday," Chet said, grinning at Howie.

"Right now, I'm going back out to the kitchen, and you guys wait a minute, then come in from the front of the house. Okay?"

"Okay," we agreed.

Howie left, and Chet smiled at me, then tousled my hair again. I sighed, smoothed it, then gave him the admonishing glare. He grinned at it. I grinned too.

"Thanks," I said softly.

"No problem. I'd be really glad to see you two together. I know you're into him, and sounds like he's into you. And by Saturday, Howie is gonna find out if he is or not."

"He will?"

"He didn't say so, but I know Howie. By Saturday, he's going to know. I almost promise. No guarantee, but I'm pretty sure."

"Oh, God."

My guts were swimming around inside of me. I was sweating and almost shaking. It was so intensely shocking. It was really possible that Mitch was homosexual too!

We were quiet until Chet said, "Well, thought about it enough yet?"

"Huh?"

He laughed, then said, "Let's go."

I followed him out through to the front of the house, then back through to the kitchen. Howie and Mitch were at the kitchen table, drinking apple juice and laughing.

"Hey, guys!" Howie said as we entered. "Mitch's leg is better. Just a sprain. He'll probably be walking normal over the weekend."

"Yeah. He's not as strong as he thinks he is," Mitch said, grinning.

"I told you, I was taking it easy on you, don't get all cocky," Howie said at him.

They laughed together as Chet and I sat down with them. 

"So, you good for throwing around the ball?" Chet asked Mitch.

"No, he'd better take it easy today. Probably tomorrow, too. So, no heavy stretching in gym if it's so hot again," Howie said at me. "Let him take it easy, will ya?"

I nodded and tried not to grin too much.

"I won't have to take it easy on you, though," Mitch said, grinning at me. "So expect the usual hard workout."

I snickered, hoping for exactly that, and wondering if he meant the double meaning.

"Just don't break him in half," Chet said. "We want him in one piece for the weekend. Right?"

"Oh, sure," Mitch said, grinning even wider.

We ended up talking about baseball and wrestling for a while before it was time to get home. Howie left with us, driving his own car. Chet took Mitch home first, and wouldn't stop teasing him about his leg. He kept saying he'd faked the injury just so that one of us would have to give him a massage, or hinting that he and Howie just wanted to be alone together. Mitch laughed and went along with the jokes. And to my incredible surprise, said, "If I wanted someone to massage my wounded leg, I would have asked Jer to. Not Howie. And I wouldn't have hurt my leg."

"Mitch!" Chet laughed. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you liked Jeremy a little too much."

He was silent, but grinned and blushed.

"And that's your own business, anyway," Chet added. "Just try not to rip his trunks off at the swimming pool Saturday."

Mitch gasped and reached up to punch Chet's shoulder pretty hard. But he didn't say that he wasn't a homosexual, or anything of the sort. I even caught him glancing at me as he sat back after hitting Chet's shoulder. He was grinning.

When we dropped him off at home, Mitch was in a great mood, and as he said bye from the back seat, he sort of brushed my shoulder with his hand. It was almost explicitly sexual. He smiled and waved as he walked up his driveway. He was just so simply adorable!

And he was possibly interested!

As Chet pulled out into the street, he grinned at me, shook his head, and said, "Lucky bastard."

I couldn't think of anything to say to that. I was beginning to really believe that I was indeed one lucky bastard.

We talked about what he and Howie had planned for Saturday, Some of it. I got the distinct feeling that he wasn't telling me everything, on purpose. But he told me enough that I was sure that the topics would indeed help reveal how open Mitch was to the idea of homosexuals. At least we would certainly find out if he was against the idea at all.

After he dropped me off, I couldn't keep the bounce out of my step, and I didn't care if my folks saw it. They did, too. They asked, and I said it had been a great day, and that I really liked the baseball practice and the extracurricular activities.

I did my chores, showered, ate dinner, and then finished the little bit of homework I had, all while thinking about Mitch. And Saturday.

I collapsed onto my bed, grinning, hard as hell, and too tired and worn out to play with myself. I fell asleep feeling like the entire world was mine for the taking.

Thoughts and ideas welcomed at the feedback page located here
More stories, poems, and ramblings at Ray's Stories
Click here to show up on my visitor map

And don't forget to support Nifty! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

web counter