Sophomore Year

Sophomore Year 29

As Hank begins Day 4 at his new abode, Hank has a memorable research day in the library with his new bud Chip.

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Thursday

Once again, I woke to the happy sight of my new jockstrap hanging with Jack's shorts and singlet on the wall in front of me. I stretched and smiled to think how much my life had changed in the short time I'd been living at Buck's.

I then recalled the previous day's events. As soon as we'd gotten home from Mel's store yesterday, Buck had insisted we throw the football pants he'd got me in the laundry. Hot, hot water, he'd said, and some bleach would soften em up,' and a hot dryer would shrink em up but good.'

I stood at his side as he set the water temperature on high and measured out the soap and bleach. I stole a few glances at the football shorts he was wearing and admired how they molded to his muscular ass, revealing the leg strap of his jock at certain moments. I fantasized that mine would fit half so well.

Buck then instructed me to remove the shoelace-type cord from the front placket. I mumbled I wanted to memorize how it was laced so I could replicate it later. "Don't worry." Buck replied, "I'll lace it back in once ya got em on again. Bout the only way to get the fit just right."

The fact that he was putting so much thought and effort into making me the tightest shorts possible to show off my jockstrap plus the idea that he would be fiddling around with them at my crotch ignited a low-level buzz in my belly, like much of what Buck said and did since my arrival, and I'd found no reason to disagree.

Buck had then headed off to his room and I to mine, feeling a need to change. My jock had felt so damp I couldn't quite imagine how much precum I must have leaked into it listening to Buck's stories in the parking lot. I'd hung it up to air out in its place of honor and pulled out a clean pair of briefs to wear.

But still abuzz from Buck's story of his bizarre encounter with the police, I'd set the briefs down on the bed and walked over to the mirror. Imagining myself in Buck's place for a moment, I started to do some naked jumping jacks, like Buck had been ordered to by that cop.

I'd been blown away when he told me how all the bouncing had given him a hard on right in front of the cop and that he'd had no way to hide it. It had sounded like my worst nightmare, and yet, I couldn't get the picture out of my mind.

As I watched my own dick bouncing in the mirror, it too started getting hard. I imagined the cop watching me, and then joined by Buck and Mel and the Captain and maybe others. I know it sounds like a silly, immature thing to do, but for a moment it felt like the most fun I'd had in a long time.

The sound of Buck walking around in his room across the hall shook me out of my trance and I quickly put on my briefs and started to get dressed. I kept thinking though that I would return at some point to pick up my little mirror-time game.

As I picked up my cutoffs to put them on, I noticed a fairly large wet spot where I had dripped precum. I freaked out that when it dried it would show and people would know what it was.

Panicked, I grabbed the cutoffs and rushed down to the kitchen sink in only my briefs. I dug out a scrub brush and some detergent and start frantically scouring the wet spot. As luck would have it, Buck came into the kitchen right then.

Stepping up close to look over my shoulder he watched what I was doing for a moment. "Little spill there?" he asked. I could feel his warm breath on my neck.

"Yessir." I answered, relieved to have this harmless explanation, though a little shaky as I tended to get whenever Buck got really close like this.

"Or maybe..." and Buck pressed even closer, the hair of his bare chest tickling my back and his moving lips on my ear as his voiced dropped to low growl, "maybe our sailor boy here leaked so much of that spicy Mexican dick jelly that it soaked clear through his pouch into his cute little play shorts?"

Dumbfounded, I started to stutter and babble some response, but Buck quickly laughed and with a few tender pats and a squeeze to my butt, headed back upstairs calling, "Good work there, Sailor. Show that jockstrap who's boss!"

As so often happened, Buck left my head swimming with a flood of ideas and feelings. One of them was the realization that whenever I was wearing just briefs, without fail Buck would find a reason to touch my ass. It must have been some sort of Navy tradition, I guessed.

Back to my task at the sink, these had been old jeans even before I cut them off and that had been a while before. After a lot of wearing and washing, they were worn pretty thin. Before I knew it, I had scrubbed the patch so hard it wore a hole right through.

I rinsed them out and ran back up to laundry closet where my new football pants were still in the wash cycle. On top of the washer lay Buck's T shirt he'd been wearing that day, the one cut off at the shoulders and waist.

I tossed the cutoffs in the dryer, wondering if once dry, the hole might somehow not be very noticeable. I'd hoped so, since they were the only shorts I had to wear to class. Before I knew it, I had grabbed Buck's T shirt and taken it back to my room with me.

All this came back to me Thursday morning as I got up. I wondered about wearing my jockstrap for yet another day. It was definitely a duller shade of white than when I'd first worn it, and even though it was now dry, its aroma was a good deal more intense than the day before.

I was pretty sure what Buck's advice would be on the matter, so took it off its hanger and slowly pulled it on. Just like every time before, it felt great as I pulled it up into place, hugging me all over as though it had been designed just for me.

I didn't know if it was my imagination or not, but the `juice' I'd leaked into it the day before made it feel warm against my balls. I didn't know why, but for some reason, my balls always felt bigger and more pendulous when I wore this jock and now, they felt charged up and powerful.

When I tried my cutoffs on over it, I saw that if I stood up straight, the hole at the crotch wasn't too noticeable. It was sort of on the underside of my bulge (my dick must have been at five o'clock, I calculated by the hole's location).

To test further, I pulled a chair over to the mirror and saw that if I sat down and spread my legs, a small patch of white showed through. Probably not too noticeable to the casual observer, but I immediately detected the unmistakable ribbed texture of a jockstrap pouch.

I decided to wear them and just be careful where I sat and how. I could carry my books in front of me if needed. Ragged jeans with holes and tears were pretty common on campus in those days, so these would not stand out.

The weather was still warm, so I tried on Buck's T shirt I'd found on the washer. If I stood up straight with my arms down, it landed a few inches below the waist of my cutoffs. I lifted my arms and a band of my torso appeared. I decided to dare it. Buck's example was having an effect.

I hunted around the house for Buck, wanting to ask his permission to wear his shirt. He was so casual about many things, like porn and masturbation it seemed, yet could be a real stickler about others, like leaving your panties' on the floor. When I couldn't find him, I thought what the hell!' and opted to face the consequences, if any.

So, in this very unusually confident mood, I went off to class. I was happily surprised to find my new bud, whose name I'd learned was Chip, waiting for me in the hall. He was wearing a slightly stained tank top and an old pair of basketball shorts. Turned out he'd played in high school. The shorts looked really silky and soft, and I had an odd urge to reach out and feel them but of course, controlled myself.

"Dude!" Chip playfully punched my arm, "Lookin' fearsome there! You comin' from liftin' or somethin'? C'mon, let's grab a seat in back." Class started with the quiz, and it was easy to let Chip copy off mine.

I took a few sideling glances when he would nonchalantly adjust his crotch now and then. I noticed though that he was not grabbing so much between his legs as at his upper thigh. I assumed that meant he was not wearing any kind of substantial support, something, I smirked to myself, that Buck would definitely not approve of.

Once he had collected all the quizzes, the professor marched us down to the library to begin work on our term papers. He had us wait in a seating area for a librarian to come give an overview of the library's collections and research tools.

Chip and I sat in a small alcove facing each other and quickly fell into easy conversation, mostly comparing high school experiences. I felt so comfortable, I spread out in my chair, totally forgetting the hole in my cutoffs. Chip soon spotted it and whispered loudly, "Damn, dude—teasin' the ladies, I see! Hey, is that a Bike you're wearin'?"

I was more stunned by his jock identification skills than embarrassed that he could see my pouch. "Yeah, it's a #10." I replied impressed. "How can you tell?"

"Aww, anybody can tell a Bike, especially those classics. My dad had one. I used to steal it all the time and get into so much trouble! But they feel great, right? I used to love the way it felt on my balls."

"Totally!" I enthusiastically agreed. I couldn't believe I had found someone else I could talk to about my new jockstrap and the close, puzzling relationship that I was forming with it. It occurred to me that Chip might also be able to understand the weird experiences I'd had wearing Jack's singlet. I made a mental note to broach that topic next chance I got.

"Hey," Chip added, "maybe you and me can trade jockstraps for a day, huh? We'd be like jock brothers. I got an old Wilson. Ya ever try one of those? Amazing pouch! I think it might fit ya pretty good."

"Uhhh..." his suggestion caught me off guard. First, of course, I was completely blown away that the conversation was even happening, but second, I was really not sure about letting someone else wear my jockstrap. I wanted to run this idea by Buck to get his advice on the subject. He was clearly becoming something of a mentor for me, especially when it came to sports and gear.

"I get it, I get it." Chip had detected my hesitation. "Don't worry. It's probably very special to you, maybe it was your dad's and he gave it to ya or something. No problem. I would like to feel that pouch on my nuts though. Tell ya what, maybe we can just try `em on for a sec in the locker room or somewhere."

That sounded reasonable, if a little scary, given my modesty complex. But before I could answer, the professor introduced a librarian and told us to listen up to their short presentation. Afterwards, he told us to pair up and start looking for sources.

Chip popped me on the shoulder and said, "Dude, let's go. I know the perfect table," and started leading me to a corner in the back. On the way, I started to apologize about not jumping on his jock trade idea.

"Easy, dude," He interrupted. "You don't strike me as the selfish type. I think you just take real good care of the things that matter to you. Nothin' wrong with that. I actually admire it."

For some reason, his remark struck a chord deep inside, stopping me in my tracks. A tear started to form in my eye. I wondered, `What the hell is wrong with me?'

"Dude." Instead of mocking, Chip wrapped a warm arm around my shoulder. "You are the real deal. Gotta love it. If I had a sister who wasn't a total nutcase, I'd be introducing ya to her now." He laughed and gently pushed me onwards.

He walked us to a table in the rear part of the library, separated from the back wall by a single bookshelf. He pointed me to a seat beside him as though to both look at the enormous world atlas angle-mounted in the middle of the table. I'd always enjoyed poring over maps as a kid.

Our first assignment was to compare research topics and locate at least one reference source. Once seated, I took out my notebook and start talking about the topic I'd chosen. This was a Western Civ class, and the framed print of the baths in Buck's gym had inspired me to research the role of sports in the Roman empire, hoping to learn more about that idyllic world I had glimpsed.

"Hold on, man." Chip quickly interrupted, "I think you're gonna wanna check out THIS topic!" He slyly opened his bag to expose the corner of the Penthouse magazine I recognized from the other day. "Dude, it's even hotter than you think. Like freaky hot." He chuckled as he slid the magazine out and placed it inside the large atlas, the oldest schoolboy trick in the world.

He then started turning the pages and pointing out the pictures that he really liked and ones that his buddy had liked, elbowing me in the ribs as he made incredibly lewd comments about the nipples and vaginas on display and the sex acts he and his bud had talked about doing with each.

"And you were totally right about one thing, man," he chuckled as he reached a few pages stuck together, "this was a spread on these two chicks eatin' each other's pussies and my bud just lost it! He shot his load all over those sweet babes. Wild!" I was getting warm just trying to picture the scene in my mind.

Coolly moving on, Chip turned to further pages, and pointed out white spots on photos of a buxom girl masturbating. Almost bragging, he said, "These are drops from my load, man. There're not that many `cuz," and here he burst out laughing, "most of it landed on my bud! Splatted right on his chest! Man, was he pissed!"

"No way!" I was dumbfounded.

"Oh, for real, man. But it's cool. I wiped it up with my shirt," and here Chip pulled at his tank top drawing my attention to a series of light stains across the front, "like I was his butler or something." He laughed lightheartedly, "He says now he owes me one and we'll be even."

Chip's free-spirited attitude astounded me. Instead of being embarrassed at retelling these events, he seems enlivened and recharged. "Good thing I decided to freeball today," he cackled merrily and gestured towards his lap where his hardening dick was growing more and more visible.

"Don't believe me?" He asked, then not waiting for an answer, said, "Check this out." He slowly slid the leg of his shorts up until the head of his dick slipped out. "Crazy, huh?" he laughed and elbowed me again.

I sat frozen, mesmerized by what he was doing.

"Watch this," he continued, pulling up his shorts further and slowly squeezing his dick from the bottom like a tube of toothpaste. Finally, a gleaming drop of pearly nectar appeared at the head. I stared, transfixed, wondering if the angelic choral music that I was hearing was only in my head.

Chip then leisurely rubbed the syrup all the plump head of his dick, making it glisten. "Oh, man!" he whispered, "Feels so friggin' good! You ever do that?"

I slowly nodded as though hypnotized. I felt many emotions that I couldn't precisely identify, but one thing I had no doubt of: I was getting aroused. And more surprisingly, I wasn't feeling overly shy. Chip's Pan-like spirit of naughty fun was infectious.

"Dude, you getting' hard, too?" he asked.

I still couldn't speak but nodded my head.

"Hard to tell with that jockstrap and cut offs holdin' it all in. C'mon dude, I dare ya. Unzip so I can really get a look at that pouch."

Amazingly, that's what I did. I reached down and slowly unzipped my cutoffs as Chip watched in rapt attention. As the zipper parted, he took in a deep breath and, in playful imitation of a wine connoisseur, exclaimed in a phony French accent, "Ah, le `eau de ball sweat,' zee cologne of champions!" And he elbowed me again, making us both laugh.

But Chip continued his inspection and commented on the dusty hue of the pouch. "Dude, you been busy! That nice amber sheen suggests it's not all just from sweat, am I right?"

Again, far too blown away to speak, I sat and blushed like crazy.

Elbowing me again, Chip crowed in victory. "Dude, I knew it! I took one look at you first day of class, and I said to myself, this dude looks all quiet and shy, but on the inside, he is an animal! And was I right?"

All I could do was giggle and blush some more.

"Ha! Thought so!" Chip was clearly very pleased with his detective abilities.

I continued leaking so bad that now that the zipper was open all the way, you could clearly see a large drop that had seeped through the pouch and rested at the tip of my dick. I felt outside of myself as I looked it.

"Whoa, awesome, dude!" Chip seemed impressed. I felt like I was in a surreal movie, seated at the back of the library with my new friend as we both leaked precum from our hardons. Could life possibly get any more bizarre?

Then to my total amazement, Chip reached over to my lap and dabbed at the drop of my cock nectar, collecting most of it on his finger. As I watched astounded, he then carried it to his own dick head, where another dose of his syrup had emerged. He blended the two between finger and thumb, his entire face suffused in a smile.

In hilarious fake solemnity, he intoned, "I now pronounce us, Hank and Chip, the most righteous of cum brothers." And before I knew it, like a priest, he wiped a bit first on my forehead and then on his own. "You may now kiss my ass." And he burst into laughter, with more elbow jabs to my ribs. We were both laughing hard.

"Hey, cumbro," Chip turned a little more serious, "Let's go back to my dorm after class and check these pics out for real?"

I couldn't think of anything I'd rather do at that point, entranced as I was, but I was still unable to speak, so just nodded my head.

"My roomie might be there, but no worries, he's on the team with me and a regular animal, just like you, dude." And he playfully punched me in the arm again.

Suddenly a voice behind us made me jump. "Mr. Johnson and Mr. Perez, are you gentlemen making progress here?" The professor seemed to appear out of nowhere and walked around to the front of the table to face us.

The possibility that he had been watching us through the bookstack hit me with a tremendous shock and shook me out of my comfortable trance.

Looking stern, the professor asked, "Do you mind showing me this resource you've found that has you both so enthralled?"

Keeping his cool and clearly used to this type of chicanery, Chip answered, "It's this atlas sir, very helpful. We've been looking at the extension of the Roman empire."

The professor did not seem easily duped. "Do you mind if I have a look?" And he spun the atlas around to face him, coming face to face with the Penthouse opened to the photos of the masturbating woman splattered with dots of Chip's load. I went from cozy buzz to anxious jitter.

"Mr. Johnson, this is not part of the library holdings. How did it get here?" This seemed a little calmer reaction than I had feared.

"Oh, it was there when we got here, sir." I had to hand it to Chip; he was very quick thinking on his feet. "We just came across it in the atlas and were going to report it."

"Mr. Johnson, I am going to confiscate this material and you can retrieve it next week. I will expect to see both of you in my office Tuesday after class, understood?"

I was mortified as the professor walked away, tucking the magazine into his folder. I was visualizing a humiliating disciplinary hearing and getting kicked out of school before midterms. "Do you think he's going to take it to the provost or something to report us?"

But Chip just laughed. "Dude, did you see the way his eyes popped when he saw that photo? That guy is another horndog without a doubt. Bet you anything he's gonna take that back to his office, lay it out on his desk, whip out the old salami and stroke until he spurts all over it. Betcha when we get it back, it has some fresh sticky spots."

I was once again in total admiration of Chip's cool confidence, so totally opposite from my timid reaction to the world.

Then Chip's tone turned worried. "But what are we gonna do now?" I assumed that the doom I had feared had finally occurred to Chip.

"That was my only porn." He sounded bereft, but I only felt relief that this was his biggest worry at the moment.

His face then brightened as an idea struck him. "We can break into my roomie's stash. He's got some wild shit."

Just then the bell tower rang the hour, signaling the end of class and shaking me from the last wisps of my mental fog. "Oh, shit!" I suddenly remembered I had a job to get to and that I had promised to help Buck out with a client in the gym that afternoon. I gathered up my things, ready to run to get to work on time. "Duty calls!"

I was actually a bit thankful for the chance to exit. The morning's events had already pushed me to my limits. I didn't know if my shy and inexperienced Boy Scout self could stand much more stimulation in a single day.

Still, I was incredibly grateful to Chip for welcoming me into the untamed forest of his hedonism. I didn't want to leave without expressing that. Searching for words to convey all that I felt proved fruitless.

Finally, I leaned forward and touched his forehead where he had smeared our conjoined precum, and then touched mine and then, looking him straight in the eye, brought my finger to my lips.

For perhaps the first time that day, Chip looked shocked by something. And then his face burst into a huge smile.

We clapped palms and shook hands as I told him, "Keep `em strapped, dude!"