Sophomore Year 20
This is the twentieth chapter of a multipart story about my year boarding with a single dad and his two sons. It was a time of highly charged eroticism much more than explicit sex and led me to discover a lot about myself.
This chapter brings to a close the first day of the story—perhaps one of most important in Hank's life--as he decides to take the room in Buck's house and starts to settle in.
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Sophomore Year 20
Running back to Buck's house I had a million thoughts and feelings zipping around in my head. I had finally made the decision: I would take the room and stay. I went straight to my car to get my duffel bag and rucksack, leaving just a few other things to get later.
Given what a big decision this was for me, I didn't feel like just walking back in through the garage door like it was no big deal. Instead, I went to the front door which seemed more formal. I set down my gear for a sec and quickly smoothed out my straps in back and gave myself a quick `cup and lift' and made sure I had myself at 6 o'clock. Just like Buck had taught me today. Then I rang the bell.
Buck opened the door and looked very surprised and confused to find me there. Then it registered that I was standing there with my gear in hand. Once he grasped the meaning, a huge smile broke across his face.
"Well, get those tanks in here, Sailor!" he crowed. "There's sails to hoist and decks to be swabbed!" He held the door open for me with one hand and gave me a congratulatory slap on the ass with the other as I walked past.
I carried my stuff up to Jack's room and dropped it on the floor. I was going to start unpacking, but suddenly, the day's events caught up with me and I desperately felt the need for a quick nap. I carefully took off Jack's shorts and the captain's jockstrap and looked around for a suitable place to put them.
It may seem funny, but I wanted to keep them in sight, since they now symbolized something important to me. Beside the desk I found a couple of those pants hangers with pinch clips and carefully clipped first the shorts, and then the jockstrap each on one.
Looking around for a place to hang them, I noticed next to the wrestling poster some empty picture hooks where I guessed Jack had removed some framed things. I tried them there, one above the other, the jockstrap, of course, on top.
I was treating them as though they were art which was a bit weird but also kind of fitting. I studied them for a minute and decided I liked them there and that that would be their place.
I next looked around for the underwear I'd left on the floor. I didn't see them anywhere. They were not where I clearly remembered leaving them. A slight feeling of dread came over me. I quickly pulled another pair from my pack. Not the newest or best-looking pair, they had maybe more than their fair share of holes and rips. But at least they were clean and would have to do for the moment. I pulled them on and dashed out into the hall to look in the basket for my lost pair. Indeed, there they were.
On the one hand it felt neat that I was now part of the household, seeing my briefs tangled up with Buck's (and maybe Jack's and maybe Zack's). I started to reach for them, but then stopped, thinking I was probably in enough trouble as it was.
I returned to my room. Feeling emboldened, I pulled off the muscle shirt and stayed in just my underwear and flopped down on top of the bed. Part of me was uneasy because I was in clear sight of the hallway, but I was now determined to feel more comfortable being seen by men.
I closed my eyes. A few moments later I heard Buck's footsteps on the stairs and felt a sudden urge to pull the spread over me but dared to resist it. I heard him pause in the hallway, take a deep breath and whisper, "Jeez, coulda sworn that was Jack for a second!" and then move on.
Sometime shortly after I fell asleep, my dreams agitated by jumbled visions from throughout the day. My old biddy landlady shrieking like the Wicked Witch of the West hounded me from a strange forest, where naked Roman soldiers and bare-assed sailors joined me on a path to a golden castle.
Guards at the gate led us to a beautiful shower where we bathed together before receiving jockstraps to wear as we were escorted before a huge curtain that opened to reveal Buck, smiling with a paddle raised. He ordered me to bend over before a mirror and commanded me to look and then I saw my reflection as a brave hero before adoring crowds.
None of it seemed to make much sense. I woke with a start. Buck was standing by the bed, gently patting my butt. "Hey, Sailor. Quique. Dinner's ready." It took me a second to realize where I was. "Ready for some grub?" He asked. "May not be as good as your chili, but it's something."
"Oh, sure, thanks," I yawned, "just let me get dressed real quick."
"You ARE dressed, Sailor!" he reacted. "You're not in the old biddy's house anymore. You're at Buck's. Look at me." And sure enough, he was also wearing nothing but a pair of white briefs, though his looked crisp and new. He smelled showered.
I followed him downstairs, noting how snug and smooth his underwear fit over his flexing butt with each step on the stairs and into the kitchen. Buck took a seat at the table, and I made a quick dash to sit across from him, longing for the cover that the table would give.
Before I could sit, Buck told me to stand at the counter and refill the saltshakers. I stood just a few feet from where he was sitting and felt very exposed as I completed the task. I could hear his breathing behind me and felt his eyes watching me.
I stood so close that without having to move his chair he reached over and casually snapped the waistband of my briefs, asking, "So, what happened to that nice new pair o' panties you were sportin' earlier?"
"I, uh, well..."
Before I could say more, he yanked down the back of my briefs and slapped me six brisk times on the ass, chanting in rhythm to each what, "PAN-TIES-IN-THE-BAS-KET!"
I yelped in surprise, but it was over almost as soon as it had started. He leaned back in his chair, and I turned to look at him questioningly. "Hey, pal," he seemed to explain, "I just took it easy on ya cuz it's your first time and you're new, but let's get off on the right foot. I told ya we had rules to livin' here, right?"
"Yessir." I was a bit deflated and surprised by the sudden attack in the middle of such a routine domestic chore. But then I remembered what I'd realized today about Buck's use of corporal punishment. It wasn't about disapproval. It was about him getting very close to help me get on the right path. "I'm sorry, sir."
"Y'know," he responded, "I make my boys say, `yessir, dad, sir."
I stayed silent, not knowing if I was to repeat those words or if that was just for my information. "Now," he seemed done with that topic, "ya gonna just walk around showing off those mighty tanks all night?"
I realized he had left the back of my underwear down, leaving my ass exposed.
"I mean, it's alright if ya do," and here he shifted back to his funny radio voice, "Lord knows Jack loves showin' off his purty peaches `round here."
He made me laugh but still I slowly pulled them up and felt the burn as the waistband scraped across my recently slapped ass.
At that point, Buck told me to join him at the table and the mood turned bright again as we ate. He asked me about my plans for the following day and told me if I found I needed anything as I settled in to let him know.
At the end of the meal, Buck said, "House rule: diner washes, cook watches." Catching his meaning, I gathered up the dishes and took them to sink. Once more, I felt his eyes on me as I washed the dishes. I fervently wished I was wearing underwear with fewer holes and tears.
"So," Buck asked as I finished up, "Feel like watchin' something on TV? Or we got some fun wrestlin' videos." Except he pronounced it more like `rasslin.'
"Appreciate it, sir, no thanks, I should get unpacked. I'm feeling beat and I got that class tomorrow morning." We bid each other goodnight and I headed upstairs. I started putting things away, finding a few odd things left here and there in drawers.
In my own stuff I found Ethan's thong that I had accidentally packed from our shared apartment last year and still need to return. I set that aside so I wouldn't forget it again.
Once done with the basics, I hopped into bed. Checking the nightstand drawer, I came across a small stack of photos. I couldn't resist the temptation to leaf through them. They all looked as though Captain Bill had taken them.
In one, Buck had just climbed out of the pool wearing that racing suit. It was shot from close range at about knee-height. The central focus was the stream of water trailing off the tip of his bulge.
Another photo showed Buck and Jack wrestling on the mats. Jack wore the same singlet I'd seen in the photo on the fridge and his dad the same shorts as earlier today. The camera had caught Jack smiling wide as he pulled down his dad's shorts from the back to reveal his furry ass in the jockstrap.
A third was taken of Buck doing leg presses, lying on his back on the bench, his feet up in the air against the weights. The photo was taken from behind and caught his butt flexed and the fabric of his shorts stretched tight, the straps of his jock visible as they pulled tight across his lower legs.
There were others as well. I gazed at each picture several times and then carefully put them back, unsure of what to do with them. Should I hand them over to Buck? Was he aware that Jack kept these? Or should I just leave them until Jack came to visit? I also wondered why in the world Jack would have these particular photos of his dad and why would he keep them in the bedstand?
I decided to leave these questions until the following day and turned off the light to sleep again, and again, to have fitful dreams full of images from the day, without a doubt one of the most eventful, meaningful days of my life.