Sophomore Year 30
Day 4 continues to unsettle our hero Hank as he faces more unexpected adventures and is puzzled by some of his reactions.
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A WARM AFTERNOON
Addled' was the word, addled.' Mrs. Collins, my fourth-grade teacher, was the first person I'd ever heard use it. When we asked her what it meant, she said, stirred up,' confused,' `muddled.' "Like a pot of soup," she'd said. "It's sitting on the stove and all the carrots and potatoes and peas are settled in their places until you turn up the heat and stir it with a wooden spoon or paddle. That's what it means to addle something." That image always stuck with me.
And between Chip's crazy antics in the library that morning and this day growing hotter, I indeed felt addled. Very. Like stirred up and unsettled. I wasn't sure why but didn't have much time to analyze it.
When I got to work, the AC was out. I hurried to help set up fans around the dining room, but they only helped so much. It took most folks who walked in about two minutes to turn around and walk out again, in search of a cooler lunch spot.
Not surprisingly, it got really hot in the kitchen, so we were sweating even more than usual. The good news was that with so few lunch orders, I was able to finish up the dinner prep and get out early. On the way home I rolled down the windows and cranked up the radio, singing along at the top of my lungs with the wind on my face. The day had put me in a strange mood.
I was glad I'd have some extra free time when I got home. Maybe I could settle down and get a little homework done before Buck needed me in the gym. I tried to think calming thoughts, like how I was slowly but surely settling in at Buck's.
I was getting my room fixed up how I liked it. I was feeling more comfortable just hanging out in my room in my underwear, even if there was no door to close. I'd even taken a shit in the no-door bathroom and felt more or less OK.
The first time I'd tried to finish up real quick when I heard Buck's footsteps coming upstairs. I felt super awkward about him walking by while I sat on the toilet just a few feet away. But right as he walked past, he let rip a huge fart which made us both laugh and broke the tension. The second time I was looking at a muscle magazine from downstairs, and Buck had walked past before I even noticed.
So, that afternoon I got back from work and, not seeing Buck anywhere, came up to my room to change out of my sweaty clothes. I pulled off my cutoffs and hung them on a hook in the closet. Buck's cut off T shirt I hung over the back of the chair to air out, thinking I could wear it later when I helped out in the gym.
I slowly peeled off my damp jock strap, savoring once more how it felt as it dragged across my butt inch by inch. I loved how my dick sprang free as I gradually pulled down the pouch. The rush of fresh air on my wet balls felt cool and made me shiver.
Once I had it off, a crazy urge hit me to hold the jock over my head with both hands, like the football player in the old poster downstairs. I slowly spun as though presenting it to the adoring crowds on all sides. I knew it was silly, but it was also kind of fun and expressed my slightly manic state of mind.
I then held it close to study the pouch. It looked a little more tarnished or burnished--I wasn't sure what word to use. It was definitely not so white as when it first came to me. As always, I was amazed how years of wear had softened it like butter while tender care had preserved its stretch like new.
I brought it to my face and rubbed it gently along my cheeks, first one then the other. It may be hard to believe but it felt like a gentle, if slightly moist, caress. At that moment I made a silent vow to always take good care of it. As I said, I was a bit addled.
I laughed as an absurd image came to me of a mass ceremony in which guys were wedded to their jockstraps and promised to always `love, cherish, and obey.' I thought I'd have to share that with Buck sometime. He would be sure to get a kick out of it.
Before I knew it, I'd fallen back on the bed with the pouch over my face, my nose buried in its deepest recesses. A faint light filtered through its waffled surface. I thought, `this is what my balls see when I wear it.' More crazy thoughts.
I breathed in deep. The scent had grown rich and earthy over the past few days from the copious sweat and precum. "My scent," I realized, proud of this outward sign of my manhood. It suggested a muddy forest trail after a rain or opening a bag of mushrooms at work. I detected almost a hint of spice in the musk.
I would ask Buck to take another whiff to see if now he could identify my jockstrap blindfolded. I was eager to hear his expert verdict. An image came to me of Buck sniffing and snorting at the pouch like a ravenous hound on the hunt for prey it knew was near. I felt butterflies in my stomach.
Standing up, I returned my ripening jock strap to its place of honor on the wall. Still hearing no one around, I dashed naked to the bathroom and gave myself a thorough wipe down with a cool, wet washcloth, paying special attention to my sweaty balls and surprised to find I was halfway hard. "Maybe this cold water will help calm me down." I'd thought.
Feeling a bit refreshed, I returned to my room and pulled on my last clean pair of briefs. I sat at my desk to work on the geometry assignment due the next day, thinking that should help clear all these crazy thoughts from my mind. I still had about an hour before helping Buck. All would be in order by then.
However, no matter how hard I tried to concentrate on math problems, memories of class that morning kept returning. Visions of those naked girls in the magazine floated up and then there'd be crazy Chip in my ear whispering details of his sexual fantasies with each. Next, I'd see him gleefully showing me his hard on and then anointing us with his nectar as `cum brothers.'
I pondered what might have happened if I'd accepted Chip's invitation to go look at the magazine together in his dorm room. I was pretty sure we'd have ended up jacking off. Would he have let me spill my seed alongside his on those shiny pages, gluing them together for eternity? Could I have ended up like his bud with Chip's warm load splattered across my chest? Would Chip again have played butler and wiped it from me with his shirt?
Before I knew it, homework was miles and miles away and I was fondling my balls and getting hard again. This was long before the internet, so it had been a while since I'd had the chance to see photos of naked women. I figured that's what had me so friggin' aroused and starting to leak. I felt like if I didn't blow my load soon, my nuts might explode.
I remembered one of the magazine photos in particular. A girl with beautiful tits touched a nipple with one hand and her pussy with the other. I absentmindedly started to imitate her pose and was soon flooded with warmth as the dual sensations from my nipples and my nuts crashed together and multiplied. I could feel more nectar flowing from foreskin.
Jolting me from this ball-and-nipple-fondling reverie, the front doorbell suddenly clanged like a firetruck. After a moment of panic, I heard Buck, who must have come back from wherever he'd been, go to get it. Such a relief since I was still so hot I felt like I would shoot at any moment. I gently stroked myself through my increasingly damp briefs.
I heard Buck warmly greet someone and invite them in. I figured that whoever it was would not involve me, yet distract Buck for a while, giving me enough time to blast a load, wipe up and maybe even get back to a little homework. It was barely three o'clock.
I could pick out enough of their conversation to deduce the identity of the visitor. It was our four o'clock, the guy who'd called while Buck was giving me a tour of the gym my first afternoon. Hard to believe that was just a few days ago, when in some ways it felt like another lifetime.
Buck had asked me to help him out with this guy and I'd said fine even though I wasn't sure what I'd be doing. Buck had said not to worry, that he'd tell me when the time came and that it would be easy. He'd said this was a client who loved attention and more than anything, we would help shore up his ego.
I was sure that Buck had told me the guy was coming at four, so he must have come early. It sounded like they had moved into the living room to chat, so I figured maybe the gym workout would still begin at four and that in the meantime, this guy would be asking Buck for advice about something, or Buck would be figuring out how to sell him something, or more likely both.
In any case, I figured I still had enough time to fantasize about those naked girls in the magazine and bust a nut. For a second I wondered if Buck and his `buddy' sitting right downstairs would chill my mood, but actually, it felt more daring and exciting to be jerking up here in my room without a door to close. Like I said, I was in a weird mood.
I pulled out my stiffy, so nicely slicked up with all the precum I'd been dripping, and started stroking with my right while my left went back to diddling my nipples. It didn't feel like at this rate it would take me long at all to cum. I was a nineteen-year-old, after all and this day had been unusual to say the least.
Afterwards I'd just need to wipe up and quickly change into either the gym shorts or the singlet. Buck had said either would be fine. As long as I wore the jockstrap, of course. He'd made that very clear.
I glanced over at my jockstrap hanging on the wall and pondered it for a moment while I stroked and diddled, remembering how Chip had commented on its color and scent, and then had gently touched it to collect my drop of precum.
I looked at Jack's white gym shorts hanging just under it and remembered how I'd modeled them in front of a mirror with Buck and then the captain at my side, giving encouragement and praise as I experimented with arranging my meat in various positions.
I looked at the poster of the college wrestler and then at Jack's wrestling singlet and wondered if Chip's singlet fit him like that and what he liked to wear under his singlet and if Chip and I might try on our singlets together sometime and maybe even do a swap. And then I remembered that he'd suggested us swapping jockstraps.
For some reason I could not fathom, these random thoughts kept interrupting my plan to think about those pictures of naked women, and yet here I was, right on the edge, leaking like a hose. I felt like I was about to spray enough jizz to put out a house fire.
I made sure the box of Kleenex was within reach so at the crucial moment I could catch at least most of the spurts. I stretched back in the chair like an astronaut ready for takeoff, my dick slick and shiny with precum and prepared to empty my balls into the universe.
At that moment, Buck hollered for me to come downstairs.