Sophomore Year 21
The story of Hank's first full day at Buck's started as a single chapter but in the writing blossomed into four. In some ways I've relinquished control over this tale as it takes on a life of its own in these pages. Hank's day begins with an odd dream that in many ways foretells events to come.
As most readers will well know at this point, this is the story about my year long ago 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.
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Sophomore Year 21
Tuesday morning, my very first in Buck's house, I woke up to a stinging swat on my butt and the word, "Get a move on, lard ass, day's a-wastin'!" followed by the thundering of Buck's footsteps down the stairs. I looked at my alarm clock; it was 7:30 am. I had plenty of time.
I made sure Buck was out of range before rolling over on my back. Like my first afternoon in this house, my first night had been strange. I suppose after all the vivid experiences of yesterday, meeting Buck and the captain, touring this odd gym/clubhouse, revealing my deepest insecurities to strangers, and deciding to face them, it's not surprising my sleep would be riled by vivid dreams.
What was odd is that those dreams climaxed with an ejaculation. I woke up in the middle of the night with a load of semen in my undies. It's not that I'd never had a wet dream before. I was a 19-year-old virgin. I'd had plenty. But before, they'd always been after some overt sexual arousal, like reading a "Penthouse" magazine, or seeing a movie with a very hot sex scene.
But there had been nothing sexual in yesterday's events. It had been all gym and jockstraps and trying on shorts and swimsuits with two imposing authority figures. I had admitted for the first time in years my deep-seated insecurities about my body and had made the momentous decision to address them. I had gotten my bare butt whacked for my first infraction of house rules. But I couldn't think of anything that struck me as outright sexual. Plus, my dreams had not been sexual at all.
I remembered that in the key moment of the dream, I was downstairs in the gym and really had to take a piss, so walked over towards the trough urinal. A few guys were in the shower behind it and a few were hanging out on the ledge above it. Another two were pissing in the trough, and a teenage towel boy was seated beside it. It was basically the scene that Buck had described of the gym when busy.
The echoes of running water drowned out most sound, but I could hear that everyone was chatting casually. Then I realized that I was totally naked and started to panic. I thought to escape, but they were all so welcoming that I dared walk up to the urinal and start pissing in front of everyone. And that's the moment I came.
Weird, right? It confused me, but weird stuff had happened to me plenty before. Remember, I was an awkward, nerdy, half-Mexican introvert with puffy nips, a foreskin, and a big butt raised by a very sweet but often dysfunctional single mother in a small town that was part South and part Midwest. I'd also been bullied a lot. Life was just strange for me in general.
At any rate, When I woke up from my wet dream, I crept into the hall bathroom and grabbed a few handfuls of toilet paper and Kleenex and took them back to the room where I tried to sop up most of it and more or less dry myself off. I crumpled up the used tissues and tossed them in a basket by the bed.
Some of the semen had soaked into my briefs—my `panties,' as Buck would say—and there was no way I could get it all out. So, I went back to sleep with them damp. By morning, they were dry and crusty.
The night had been warm, so the windows were open, and the breeze helped freshen the air in the room and dilute the scent of dried cum. I was relieved that Buck had been in and out so quickly he hadn't seemed to notice.
Not that I feared he'd mind particularly: he had casually mentioned his boys (and `buddies') masturbating in the house and seemed to take it as a normal, everyday occurrence. Still, I was very timid, especially about personal matters, so did not relish the prospect of Buck teasing me about yet something else.
Instead, I contemplated the day ahead. My only class that day started at 9:30 and ended at 11:00. After class I would head to work. Since they let me come in a little late for the lunch prep on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I stayed a little later those days to help bus tables, wash dishes and set up for the dinner shift before I left. It worked out nice.
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I surveyed the room, this bedroom that was now mine, at least for a while. Things were a little messy since I hadn't finished unpacking the night before. Not that I'd had a l lot to unpack. But I'd been so exhausted by the day's events that I just conked out early. I didn't think it wouldn't take me long to finish up this morning.
My eyes landed on the closet door across the room, and I realized I hadn't even looked in it yet. Climbing out of bed in my ragged, crusty briefs, I walked over and cracked it open. The first thing I noticed was that fixed to the inside of the door was the full-length mirror Buck had referred to yesterday. I opened the door all the way to get a good look. To my surprise, the mirror was splattered all over with what appeared to be lots and lots of dried cum shots.
Before I knew it, my fingers were reaching out to touch it. A voice inside my head screamed, "Don't touch that—it's gross!" But another calmly answered, "We need to see what it is. Maybe it's just a design inside the mirror itself." Sure enough, my fingers were met by the rough and flaky textures of what could only be layer upon successive layer of crusted semen.
Admittedly, I had a dried load of cum in my own briefs, so was in a weak position to judge, but I tried to grasp the concept of repeatedly splattering my load at a mirror. I guess I'd be watching myself...? Would that be fun? Would it be like jerking off with a bud? I'd heard of guys doing that but had always been too shy to end up in that kind of situation.
I remembered Buck had mentioned that Jack loved to spend time admiring himself in this mirror. I had just had not grasped the full depths of his possible self-appreciation. Both Buck and the captain had said that Jack loved freeballing and showing off in revealing clothing. Was that part of what aroused him? Was any or all of that connected to this copious evidence of erotic release?
The idea of jerking off in front of a mirror had never really occurred to me until that moment. My experience up until then had been much more furtive: under the bed covers at night or in a safely locked bathroom or a toilet stall in an empty restroom.
But now that the seed had been planted in my brain, so to speak, the idea that a mirror might make it more fun took root and started to grow quickly. Like so many other things since I'd arrived at this house, it went from the unthinkable to the quite possible.
I looked around inside the closet. It was a fairly large one for those days, not exactly what they call now a "walk-in," but I could at least step in and pull the door closed. On the shelves and hanging on the rod were a few more things that Jack had left behind.
It occurred to me that Jack had done a singularly poor job of clearing out his room before leaving. In a few short hours, I'd already stumbled across a pair of shorts (as well as some T shirts) in the dresser and some old photographs in the nightstand. And I had yet to do any sort of systematic inspection.
I couldn't decide if I thought Jack had left these things behind just out of carelessness or as a way of `marking' his territory, leaving a clear message to any interlopers that their stake here was only temporary.
Or was it possible that these were more like "gifts," items strategically chosen to help smooth the transition and make it easier to take on his role in the household? Almost like signposts, were they pointing towards the ways a newcomer might fill a gap Jack's absence was leaving, especially for Buck?
"Well," I thought, "Buck has made it clear that nothing of Jack's left in this room is off limits to me, so I won't feel a need to keep things totally separated."
I stooped to pick up something wadded in the corner and to my surprise, unfolded a blue wrestling singlet. It looked like the same one I had seen Jack wearing in photographs, with contrasting white trim along the straps and leg bands. I turned it over and over and ran it through my fingers and inspected it closely.
I held it up close to my nose and could tell right away that it had not been recently laundered. It smelled like the singlets I remembered from my wrestling team days. They always had a funky, sweaty smell. Before I knew it, I had pressed it to my face, closing my eyes and remembering my brief time on the wrestling team—the friendly teammates and that wrestling coach who'd been so kind to me. It hit me how desperately I regretted selling my old singlet.
I couldn't resist the urge to try it on. I froze for a second and listened to make sure I didn't hear Buck anywhere nearby. Hearing no sound of him, I stepped into the singlet and pulled it up. It was super snug and stretchy and smooth, and my big Mexican butt pulled the fabric even tighter in the crotch. It felt like it was hugging my balls.
I had to admit I was fascinated by the way it fit me, so much tighter than my old team singlet. I checked myself out in the mirror and loved how it looked at first glance. I felt like a kid in a superhero costume. Then I noticed that, given how tight it was, my briefs were clearly visible underneath, and I did not think that looked cool at all. They bunched up in places and ruined the smooth contour of the fit. They spoiled the `superhero' look that I was fantasizing for myself.
Listening again for Buck and not detecting his presence in the house, I pulled off the singlet, yanked my underwear to my ankles and pulled it on again. I played with the shoulder straps and leg bands and adjusted myself several times.
I started experimenting with what I'd learned the day before about placing my dick at 6 o'clock and 3 o'clock and tested it with every time of day. I turned this way and that to study the effect and then stood sidesways to see how far out I could get my package to bulge. I wondered if this is what Jack spent his time doing in front of the mirror. I was surprised to find that it was kind of fun.
The singlet was so tight and thin that where it stretched over my crotch, the color changed a bit, to a lighter shade of blue, as though light were passing through. It made me nervous that it would be a little see through. I wondered what my new jock strap would look like under it. I was pretty sure the straps would all show through. I wasn't sure if I thought that would be better or not but couldn't resist my curiosity. Before I knew it, I had pulled off the singlet again, pulled on the captain's jockstrap and then the singlet back over it.
I was just adjusting the shoulder straps when I turned to see Buck casually leaning in the doorway.