Sophomore Year

Sophomore Year 41

It's Friday afternoon as Hank meets his new little brother Zack who has lots of fun plans for their first weekend together. A fitting for his new lace-up football shorts brings Hank closer to Buck.

This chapter took longer to launch than most as life interfered with the writing process. Many thanks to my patient readers. I hope you'll feel the wait has been rewarded.

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Chapter 41

Friday

I came home from work and found the house quiet and empty. The calm before the storm,' I mused as I made my way up the stairs. I wondered how long before Hurricane Zack' would arrive with Buck. In the meantime, I put my things away and sat down at the desk to work on some math problems.

Before long I found myself poking my finger around in the hole in the crotch of my cutoffs. I loved feeling the ribbed texture of the jock pouch and enjoyed diddling the head of my penis though it. I started recalling moments from class that morning teasing the professor.

I tasted again that intoxicating sense of power from making him so nervous by casually exposing myself. In no time I could feel myself chubbing up and that familiar drip starting to form under my foreskin. "Fair warning," I muttered to myself, determined to put that episode out of my mind and with renewed effort I focused again on my homework.

This time, however, doubts about how things might go with Zack started to distract me. Knowing the importance of their relationship to both Buck and Zack, I worried that any friction with Zack might mess up what had been until now a great dynamic for me in this house.

For one thing, Zack was thirteen and I had been around enough surly and petulant thirteen-years olds to know how withdrawn and sullen they could be. I imagined trying to start a conversation with him might be like pulling teeth.

And worse, it sounded like Zack adored his older brother Jack, whose room and in some ways, whose role in the family, I was taking over for a while. It didn't seem unlikely that Zack might begrudge the intrusion.

Also, Buck had mentioned that Zack was now masturbating and had even dubbed him a `championship stroker.' That required a certain degree of privacy, didn't it? Hard to come by in this house with no bedroom or bathroom doors. After two weeks at his mom's, he might be craving the chance to jerk off more freely and he could resent my presence as a hindrance.

So many possible reasons for him not to like me. I wondered what I might do to help get off on the right foot. I even wondered what to wear. Was there anything I could put on that would either please or displease this young visitor?

What would his brother Jack likely be wearing in a moment like this? Since briefs seemed the standard dress code for hanging around this house, I thought that might be best way to go. Meeting me for the first time in briefs might feel familiar and comfortable for Zack.

I took off my cutoffs and hung the jock strap back in its place of honor on the wall. Standing naked in the middle of the room, I held up Mr. Akins' briefs to inspect them. They were now dry and only very slightly discolored. I pressed them to my face and could still detect the distinct aroma that transported me back to that amazing afternoon next door.

I slowly pulled them on, savoring the sensation as the soft cotton made its way up my legs and over my butt. I really liked the way the briefs felt on my balls, thinking about all the testosterone so generously donated by Mr. Akins and the Captain.

I left on my socks and Buck's shirt, not sure whether I yet had his permission to take it off. I checked myself out in the closet mirror. With the exception of the faded blue "Bike" logo on the shirt, I was all dressed in white, which I thought contrasted nicely with my olive skin.

I noticed the difference in fit between these briefs and my own. Mine tended to fit pretty snug and held my meat up close and tight against my body. These were larger and though not really baggy, provided enough room in the front for my meat to hang forward.

I bobbed a little on my feet and admired how my meat shook and swayed. I next bounced down the stairs just to experiment and enjoyed how my meat swung and jounced from the movement. I started to chub up a bit and wondered if I had time to rub out a quick one. I decided that with my luck around here, I'd get caught at just the wrong moment.

I determined that the wisest thing would be to sit back down at the desk and try to do some more math homework. However, before long I was once again recalling the morning class with Dr. Parker and the expression on his face as I toyed with him. The sense of power and control was totally new to me and fascinating.

I started to come up with ideas for teasing poor Dr. Parker next week in class. I thought about what I might wear that would make him nervous. I fantasized about showing up for his office hours wearing Jack's white shorts that really showed the jockstrap underneath. I wondered how he would react.

It was hard to believe that after years of bashful modesty, I was so quickly developing a taste for showing off. For so long I had envied the bravado with which some guys displayed their physiques and now I was daring to claim it too. These thoughts and images had my balls simmering in no time and again I toyed with the idea of jerking off.

Giving into a sudden impulse, I walked over to the mirror and pulled down the waistband of my briefs and tucked it under my nuts. I got a kick out of how it lifted everything up and out. I shifted my hips a little, waving my dick at an imaginary Dr. Parker.

No sooner than I had decided to throw caution to the wind and see if I could splat some of my own cum to join Jack's on the mirror, I heard the car pull up the driveway. I quickly pulled up my briefs, shut the closet door and sat back at the desk, hoping to look like a dutiful student at his homework.

Moments later, the kitchen door banged open, and a young voice bellowed, "WHERE'S MY NEW BROTHER?"

Startled, I stood up from the desk and walked towards the door. Pausing by the side of my bed, I wondered how I should respond. Pounding footsteps followed, bounding up the stairs and then a ball of energy burst in the room.

"QUIQUE!" the speeding comet hollered without stopping and slammed into me with a bear hug, knocking us both over onto the bed. "Hey, let's WRESTLE!" he proclaimed, and did his best to fold my legs into a pretzel. In a state of shock, I lay rigid, impervious to his attempts.

"Jeez!" he resigned after a few tries, "Doncha know how to wrestle?" Jumping off the bed without catching his breath, he went on. "Don't worry, I'll teach ya. I know lots about wrestlin'. My brother Jack taught me, and he's like an expert."

Brimming with nervous energy, Zack paced around the room. "Do you know Jack? He's really cool. Right now, he's in Springfield studyin' to be a physical therapist, but first ya gotta learn massage. That's like rub downs, but even girls can do it."

"Do you know how to give a rub down? My dad does, but Jack is even better, all the buddies say so. And he's been teachin' me some, too. First, ya strip and lie down on the tale and if ya want, they'll cover down there with a towel. And then ya get covered in oil and they squeeze and rub your muscles. I can show ya how if ya like."

Without waiting for a response, Zack continued. "So, you're like my new big brother, right? Do you already have a little brother?" I assured him I did not and that he would be my first and only. Seemingly satisfied, he changed gears, "Hey, do you have pubic hair?" then stage whispered, "that means hair on your you-know-what."

"Uh, yeah, I guess so." I wasn't sure what tack to take with this sort of questioning.

"Do you have a lot, like my dad, or just a little, like me. I have some but it's not much. Jack says I'll have more next year and even more the year after. That's what happened to him. Is that what happened with you?"

"Yeah, just like that, every year I'd get some more."

Looking around the room, Zack noticed the jockstrap on the wall. "Wow! Is that your jockstrap? Did you hang that there? That is so cool! I'm gonna hang my jockstrap just like that in my room. Hey, wanna see my jockstrap? Oh, wait, it's in the car. I'll show ya later. Hey, are those Jack's shorts? Did he leave `em here?"

Without waiting for an answer, Zack was on to his next thought. "Wow! That Jack's singlet! Did he leave that, too? He wears it all the time. Have you seen him in it? Whoa, he looks like Superman or something, all his muscles look really big."

"And you know what?" He leaned in with another stage whisper, "you can really see his dick and balls! You're s'posed to call em penis' and `testicles.' Did you know that? Hey, you can try it on this weekend! That'd be totally awesome! And then we can wrestle!"

Before I could mention that I had already worn the singlet, Zack was on to his next thought. "Hey, can you make a muscle?" he asked, flexing his own bicep to illustrate his point.

"You mean like this?" I asked as I flexed mine.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, impressed, and stepped close to rub and admire it. "Do the other one!" he demanded. "Cool! Do you lift weights? Have you seen my dad's gym downstairs? Ever take a shower down there? We can take one this weekend. After we wrestle. I'll show ya how everything works."

"Uhhh...OK, I guess.." I hemmed, not very comfortable with that plan.

Zack seemed to take no notice and went blithely on. "Have you seen the Tail Pipe Cleaner? It's pretty amazing. It really tickles at first but it gets your butt so clean it almost squeaks!" he laughed making me laugh too.

Zack then took full command, ordering me to change places with him. While he made himself comfortable sitting on the side of the bed, he had me stand in front of him. He ordered me do various muscle poses. Soon he demanded I take off my shirt, which I tossed on the bed, a few feet from him.

I was actually surprised that he hadn't yet noticed that I'd been wearing his dad's cut off T shirt now covered in cum spots. But I hoped if he did it might provide an easy entry into the topic of masturbation and appropriate versus inappropriate places to unload.

I didn't want to come off as some bossy lecturer on what he should and shouldn't do but did think a boy his age might benefit from some advice on how to avoid getting into trouble for a moment's carelessness.

In any case, Zack seemed so absorbed in watching my flexes that he never noticed the shirt. He took a lot of interest in my chest, at one point pinching my nipples and asking if I liked playing with them. The squeal I emitted in response seemed to scare him off that topic for the moment.

It might sound odd that I ended up putting on a muscle show in my briefs for my new little brother; it was about the last thing I'd imagined. But I was eager for us to be friends and willing to go along with whatever ideas he came up with.

And truth be told, I was enjoying myself. It was surprisingly fun and gratifying to have such an appreciative audience. I recalled how Charlie's face had lit up when he talked about flexing for his little brother. At the time, I was puzzled but now I was totally getting it.

I did my best to show off my muscles and make impressive poses. I had wanted Zack to like me and if this was a way to achieve that, I was all for it. I wanted to earn his respect and admiration.

In between his call for poses, Zack's nonstop lightning-round string of questions was dizzying and delightful. Fortunately, I didn't need to answer many because he was soon off to the next. He asked what sports I played, if I liked wearing a jockstrap or liked to freeball like his brother. If I jacked off a lot like his brother, and if so, how often, if I liked using lube or stroked dry. I supposed these might be just the sort of questions a newly adolescent would ask an older brother.

He leaned forward again and in an almost comical whisper, asked "Did you know my dad jacks off? He does! I saw him! He was looking at his magazine so didn't see me. Boy, he comes A LOT!" His eyes grew so big it was humorous, and I laughed a bit, which Zack misunderstood.

"No, he really does!" Zack insisted, a little pained that I might not believe him. "Like gobs and gobs. He had to use a ton of tissues to wipe it all up. And you know what? He tasted it. Do you ever taste yours? I taste mine sometimes. It tastes kinda weird but I sorta like it. Jack says the more you taste it the better it tastes. Do you think so?"

Before I could think of an answer, he continued, "The best taste is what Jack calls his precum, it's sweet, kind of like honey. Do you make precum yet?" I nodded, ready to answer, but Zack didn't wait. "I don't, but Jack tells me I will before long, but that first I gotta taste enough of his. And dad's. Hey, maybe I could try some of yours..."

Mercifully, before the conversation could turn any more awkward, Buck appeared at the door. "Well, ain't this a purty picture?" he laughed. "Less'n ten minutes home and already he's callin' the shots. That's our Zack!"

I was a little embarrassed to be caught posing for his son in just my briefs, and discretely reached for my shirt on the bed. But Buck didn't seem to find it in the least unusual. He actually looked impressed and said, "Hey, we oughta get you two to put on a little muscle show for our buddies this weekend. Whaddya think of that?"

Before I could say anything, Zack agreed enthusiastically. "Could we? Could we? Oh, boy! That would be so much fun!" Then looking at me, he explained, "Jack and I do `em all the time. It's great. All the buddies whistle and clap and tuck dollar bills in your suit."

Before I could fully absorb the picture that Zack was painting, he had taken my silence for agreement. "So, what d'ya think we should wear, Dad?"

Gently mussing his son's hair, Buck laughed, "I think you should work that out with your new brother Hank here. Maybe do one round in yer little panties. That's always a hit."

"Yeah, but we oughta wear old ones with lots of holes and tears. And then we should do one in our matching swimsuits. Doncha think Jack's will fit Hank OK?"

"Oh, I imagine that would be a real sight to see." Buck winked at me as he said it.

"And then we can do one in our singlets!" He exclaimed, pointing at Jack's singlet hanging on the wall.

"Hey, Bud, before you start forcin' poor Hank here to work out a routine for your show, go get outa your school clothes and run over to see Captain Billy. `Think he might have a little somethin' for ya."

Zack started to protest, "OK, in a minute but first..." But Buck was having none of it. With a brisk swat to his rear end, he sent Zack off to his room to strip down to his briefs and then head next door to the captain's.

I breathed a sigh of relief to have my shirt safely back on and a break from Zack's endless stream of embarrassing questions. Buck then held up the football pants he'd got for me at Mel's. He'd been holding them behind his back, so I hadn't noticed.

"This a good time for us to work on em?" he asked, then warned, "Ya better get em on now while he's distracted, otherwise, he's gonna be all up in your business."

I laughed and agreed. Buck gave me a quick tutorial in getting the pants on and then tossed them on the bed. Turning to leave he added, "And for God's sake, put on a jockstrap! No way any self-respecting stud's gonna wear panties under his football pants!"

I chuckled but did as I was told, dutifully taking the jockstrap off its hanger and putting it on instead of the briefs. I then followed Buck's instructions to turn the pants inside out and lay them out on the floor.

I inserted a foot into each of the pant legs from the bottom, backwards so to speak, and pulled up the hem of each as far as possible, just below my knees. Then I grabbed the waistband and pulled the pants up the rest of the way, turning them right side out, so to speak.

Boy, were they tight! It took a good bit of pulling and tugging just to get them most of the way up. Finally, able to do no more, I walked out to the hallway where Buck was waiting, laces in hand. "Lord Almighty!" he exclaimed he saw me.

"Did I do something wrong?" I asked, worried that his reaction was not a good one.

"Not a thing, Sailor, not a thing." Buck slowly shook his head smiling. "Now bring all that good stuff over here by the mirror." I walked to where he was standing. He gripped the waist of the pants and yanked up as I jumped up and down a bit, and finally we got them all the way on.

I noticed Buck had put on his lace-up shorts with the flap open and his jock strap visible. When I mentioned it, he said, "Yeah, didn't seem right wearin' anything else for a moment like this. It's kinda like you're joinin' a brotherhood, right?"

Buck took hold of my hips and positioned me in front of the hallway mirror. He set the laces down beside him and knelt in front of me. As he readied everything, he asked, "So, anybody notice your shirt today?"

"Yessir, a couple of guys made comments when we passed between classes. Like, `Now there's some shootin'!'"

Buck laughed and said, "Well, they ain't wrong about that!" and started pointing out and touching the various blotches. "I mean, look at this one, up on your shoulder! That dick of yours must be a regular spooge cannon!"

I laughed but then admitted, "Well, I wasn't actually wearing the shirt when I...at that moment. I had it laying on my stomach."

"Well, still, pretty bountiful harvest, I'd say. Makes a man proud to see his boy's big load."

I tickled all over hearing that, both that Buck once again referred to me as `his boy,' and that this evidence of my manhood, the amount of sperm I'd ejaculated, impressed such an alpha male and made him feel proud of me.

Buck roused me from my pondering. "So, anybody else notice?"

"The funniest was this guy who said, `Gotta learn to dodge that shit, man!'"

That really made Buck laugh. "Sounds like he'd been hit by some friendly fire in his day. I suppose we all have, sooner or later. Y'know, ya get a bunch of guys cooped up together for long enough, and somebody always starts it."

"Is that so, sir?" I asked, eager to hear more.

"Oh, yeah. Reminds me, we used to have this guy on the ship who thought it was hilarious to cum all over his shipmates. You'd be havin' a nice little nap and all the sudden feel somethin' warm and wet on your face and `boom' he was bustin' a gut laughin'!"

"Didn't guys get really mad?" I was shocked by this image.

"Yeah, a few did at first, but then ya just kinda get used to it. And then some guys started encouragin' him, like hey, get Saul.' Or go get Tommy.' It's not like it's gonna hurtcha or nuthin'. Ya just wipe it off or rub it in and go on about your business. And y'know a lotta guys say the extra testosterone is actually good for ya."

I'd probably never really thought about getting another guy's cum on me before, and if I had, I probably wasn't that crazy about the idea. But after feeling Mr. Akins' and the captain's sperm smeared all over my balls the day before, I could understand a little better what Buck said about the extra testosterone.

Emboldened by this talk, I started to tell Buck about how my math professor had been knocked off balance that morning when he noticed the cum splats on my shirt and how I'd toyed with him, getting him all nervous by flashing my jock pouch at him.

Buck hung on every word and nodded along approvingly, letting out a gleeful exclamation at key points. "Now, that's my boy!" He crowed and then changed tone. "So, ya think this guy might be a cocksucker?"

"No way, sir!" I protested. "I think he was probably just surprised it being in class and all. I mean, he's a college professor! He's got like a Ph.D.!"

"Don't matter, son." Buck gently placed his hand on my shoulder. "Cocksuckers come in all shapes and sizes. Young, old, rich, poor, smart, dumb. The only way you can spot em f'sure is that hungry look they get when they see dick. It's like it hypnotizes em."

I stared at Buck blankly, trying to take this all in.

"Now, this professor of yours," he went on, "he might be getting' real nervous seein' your jock pouch and cum tracks all over your shirt cuz it gets im thinkin' `bout how it's gonna taste when he gets his mouth down there and starts slurpin' and lickin'."

Buck had such a knack for saying the most outrageous and irreverent things. I was often scandalized by his comments and was dumbstruck at what he was now telling me. Images flashed through my mind of Professor Parker between my legs and making those sounds I'd heard yesterday when Mr. Akins and the captain were imitating licking pussy.

Once again, Buck roused me from my pondering with a sharp slap on my butt. He pointed at the mirror and said, "Hey, imagine how he'd react seein' ya in these once we got `em cut off? Give the poor fella a heart attack."

"Well, I don't think I'd be up to wearing these to class, but I was wondering about stopping in for office hours wearing something like this."

"Great idea. Brilliant. Gotta do it. Just say you're on your way to the gym. It'll be good for your confidence and believe it or not, he'll get somethin' out of it, too. And your grade'll improve f'sure!" He laughed. "And who knows? Ya might get a hell of a blow job out of it!"

I looked back at the reflection of the football pants in the mirror. Unlaced, they hung open in the front and a slice of the jock pouch showed. It was an amazing sight of myself. I felt like I was in a magazine photo of some sort, though what sort I couldn't quite figure out.

We agreed on a length for the shorts and Buck sketched a line on each leg with a pencil. I'd wanted a bit longer and he wanted a bit shorter, but we compromised in between. I'd argued that we could always cut more off and that besides, they were likely to get a little shorter with each laundering. Buck acquiesced.

At that point we walked back to my room and Buck had me lie on the bed on my back with my feet pointed towards him. He grabbed the bottom hem of each leg and yanked a few times. The force of his pulls was tremendous, dragging my ass to the edge of the bed and after a few, the pants came free, leaving me in my jockstrap.

Standing above me with the football pants in hand, Buck looked down smiling. "Doin' alright there, sailor?"

As I lowered my legs, my knees at the edge of the bed with Buck standing between them, an old wrestling move came to mind. I fantasized locking him in a scissors hold between my legs. An image of doing that and wrestling around on the bed with Buck flashed in my mind and before I knew it, I sort of moaned.

"I'll take that as a `yes,'" Buck snorted a laugh and carried the pants back out to hallway. The space where he'd just been standing between my legs now looked so empty. Part of me wondered what would have happened if I'd tried the move. How would Buck have reacted? I wasn't sure I was ready to find out.

I slowly got up and followed him out to the hall. He laid the pants on the floor under the bright spotlight. I watched the process as he carefully folded and smoothed them then took scissors to cut the legs.

I'd been so absorbed watching him that when I glanced up in the mirror, I was shocked to realize I was in nothing but the muscle shirt and jock strap and socks. Seeing that I was just about ready to dash back into my room, Buck stopped me and ordered me to put my hands behind my head and admire myself in the mirror.

I had to admit I looked pretty good. As I turned this way and that to admire myself from various angles, Buck looked up from his task and nodded approvingly. "Y'know, that jock really does look like it was made for ya. I know ya always been kinda shy, but I guarantee, ya strut around like that in a locker room and all the guys gonna be real impressed. You'll be like the king around there."

I laughed and blushed at his comments. What he was saying was initially hard to believe, but then slowly excited me, the prospect of showing off like this in front of guys, all kind of guys, guys I didn't even know.

Then he helped me pull the shorts on again and we agreed the length was fine. "Could still be shorter." Said Buck. "Could still be longer." I replied and laughed. They fit my legs so tight that the flesh ballooned slightly at the bottom. Buck took the scissors and cut a small `V' on the outside of each leg, like a vent, which made the fit perfect.

Then kneeling, Buck started lacing up the front. "Hands behind your head," he barked, and I instantly obeyed. He busied himself with his work and as I watched him kneeling before me, I would glance up to see us in profile in the mirror.

I couldn't decide which view I preferred. It was almost like a medieval painting, reverential in Buck's posture kneeling before me, the beam of light shining down from above. I was like a young squire being suited up for battle by his mentor knight.

Buck looked intent on the task before him and was taking his time. He continually bumped and rubbed against my dick and balls, several times pulling out a lace and then entering it back in again.

I couldn't tell if he was doing this to tease me or not. He had the most serious expression on his face, but then he often did when he was teasing. I kept getting harder and started dripping. I was getting more and more embarrassed.

Buck seemed to notice my discomfort. "Now, don't think you're any different than every other player whose coach had to help him with these laces. It's kind of a rite of passage and a special moment for both."

I tried to distract myself with thoughts of other things. For some reason, our session with Charlie the day before came to mind and I suddenly recalled his mention of The Half Mast bar at the beach and how whenever he went, guys bought him beers. I realized that was the same place my Uncle Quique had met that gentleman and come away forty dollars the richer.

I remembered that day and how glamorous my uncle had looked in his form fitting suit. I started to think that beach might be a fun place for me to experiment with my newfound love of showing off. Then I wondered about wearing these football shorts there and strolling past the Half Mast or even stopping for a beer at the bar.

I asked Buck, "So, do you think these shorts will be good to wear at the beach?"

Buck didn't seem to hear me. He looked increasingly befuddled until at one point he pulled the laces out and said, "I don't know what we were thinkin'. We got the flap closed. Let's see if we can get the laces in right with the flap open."

I agreed, I mean, why was I going to argue? Although I had a slight doubt because pulling back the panel under the laces would expose my jock pouch, leaving it the sole layer of cover over my increasingly swelling and damp privates.

Buck reached in and moved the flap, brushing the back of his hand against my meat in the jock pouch. I shivered all over in reaction. "Oh, sorry," Buck said, noticing, "Did I hurt ya? Rack yer balls there?"

"Uh, no, sir," I answered, a bit embarrassed, not sure what to say. "It just..."

"Tickled em real good? Well, heck of a lot better than rackin' em, huh?" he laughed, and I did too, the tension broken for a moment.

"So, let's see. We got it at six o'clock, right? All good."

I started really dripping as the laces crisscrossed up against my hardening dick until at one point, a glob seeped through the jock pouch, glistening under the ceiling light. I was mortified, but Buck took it in stride.

He poked the drop gently and it clung to his finger. He held it up and studied it in the light, and then slowly brought it to my mouth and said, "This is fresh from the tap. Compare it to what you tasted this morning, which was hours old." He told me to lick it off. I did.

"It's good for ya, y'know. Oughta eat up as much of it as ya can."

"Yessir." I meekly answered.

"Especially now while it's so sweet. You can see why they call it `cock honey.' Ya get to my age and it's not the same."

"Really, sir?" I was fascinated by this difference he often referred to, and marveled that he could supposedly distinguish between the cum of a boy versus a man.

"What?" he smiled as he grunted, "Ya don't believe me?" He discretely turned away to milk out a drop from his own dick. I stood stunned in amazement. In a moment he turned back holding a drop on his raised finger and said, "See what you think."

As he brought his hand near, I tilted my head back and stuck out my tongue, as if to receive communion at church. Buck rubbed his finger gently on my tongue and by reflex, I closed my mouth around his finger and licked and sucked on it.

I was slammed by a kaleidoscope of sensations and couldn't clearly distinguish among them. The taste was a bit salty and images of that day at the beach with my uncle flashed through my mind. The texture was thicker and more gelatinous than my own.

Then it hit me that he had just milked the juice out of his own dick, through his own jockstrap and put it in my mouth and that I was sucking on his finger like a lollipop. All these things were mind-blowing to me and making me dizzy.

"Mmmm," moaned Buck, "must not be too bad judgin' by that reaction."

I was about to ask for more when the kitchen door slammed open as Zack returned home from the captain's.