The Brownstone on Union Park

GENERAL DISCLAIMER: This story contains sexual situations between adult males involving various aspects of the kink and fetish communities. If you find material of this nature offensive then you should not read any further. All characters in this story are over the age of 21. If you are under 18 years old in the US or under 16 in the UK you are not legally allowed to read this story. This is purely a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living or dead, or to any events that may have occurred, are purely coincidental. The author claims all copyrights in this story and no duplication or publication of this story is allowed (except by the websites to which it has been posted) without the consent of the author. Nifty does not exist without donations. If you enjoy these stories, please donate here: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

CONTACT/FEEDBACK: I enjoy getting feedback and I try to incorporate as many suggestions about the story and characters into subsequent chapters whenever possible. Feel free to e-mail me at carterpodeski@gmail.com.

The Brownstone on Union Park

• Chapter Nineteen -

Carter pushed Michael's body near the pillows and with some effort was able to peel down the top sheet that he formerly was on top of. It was just one button and a zipper. That's all it would take to get his shorts off. He looked again studying Michael's face for any signs he might wake up but saw nothing and proceeded to unbutton his shorts.

He looked back again. Nothing.

Carter unzipped his shorts and pulled them down slowly around his legs and was finally able to free them from his body. Michael looked beyond cute like this in bed with nothing more than his bright white underwear. Carter could feel himself becoming even more aroused now and put his hands down his own shorts to readjust his package pointing his own dick upward. He knew he had to leave soon else he would be in trouble.

Carter covered up Michael with the sheet halfway and jokingly placed the Chandler Cheetah in his arms while he adjusted the pillows to cradle his head. He finished drawing up the sheets to his neck area and turned around to exit the bedroom and made his way to the door.

He reached the door and glanced back one last time. It was an adorable sight to see and Michael looked so at peace snuggled up in bed with the stuffed animal at his side. Carter wanted so badly to jump in bed with him but knew it would complicate things more than either of them needed at the moment. So, he turned off the lights, shut the door, and left.

The next morning Carter's alarm on his phone woke him up promptly at seven-o-clock like it did most weekdays. He stretched his arms, yawned, flipped over on his back, and let go of the long red body pillow that he hugged all night long. The daylight was beginning to stream in from the sides of the window shades into his bedroom. Carter grabbed his phone from the nightstand, got out of bed, naked, and raised the blinds. It was a halfway decent day but looked like it might rain any second with glimpses of clouds punctuating gray-blue skies.

He walked out of his bedroom not bothering to put anything on and entered the bathroom that separated his room from James' bedroom without closing the door. Carter flipped on the lights and shook his head awake while turning on the hot water faucet; it would take about a minute for the water to become tepid and another before it was actually hot. He then entered the toilet closet and flipped up the seat to take his traditional morning two-minute piss. It was always about the perfect time it took for the faucet water to get up to the proper temperature. He flushed the toilet and noticed how strong the odor of his urine was as it permeated the small area. Carter exited the private toilet stall to return to his sink at the dual vanity where the water was pouring out of the faucet creating downward cascades of steam. He briefly lowered his head into the steam basin of the sink and inhaled deeply and thought to himself, "Good morning world, it's going to be a good day today."

Carter lifted his head up and grabbed a thick white cotton washcloth from a chrome basket in the center of the vanity and soaked it in the steaming water. He promptly wrung it out and pressed it over his face as it began to open up his pores. The warmth of the wet washcloth against his skin always felt like the perfect way to start the day with the heat and moisture permeating every inch of his face. He breathed in heavily while trying to soak in all heat and then exhaled through his nose; the area near his nostrils with the air exchange occurred felt noticeably cooler than the rest of the washcloth as he dragged it down over his lips. He discarded it on the side of the sink and applied some moisturizer to his face paying special attention to the areas under his eyes and forehead.

"Got to look energetic and alive today...," he thought and exited the bathroom throwing the used washcloth in the hamper in the linen closet on the way back to his bedroom.

Carter grabbed his phone and found the e-mail with his flight itinerary that James booked the night before as well as a text with the hotel's address. The flight out of Logan airport was not until seven-eighteen that evening and it appeared that James was somehow able to secure an exit row seat for Carter and his long legs. He made a mental note to thank James for that later on when he saw him in New Orleans that evening. He found a pair of gym shorts in his clean pile of clothes that sat unfolded in his laundry basket at the base of his bed and put them on. On his way downstairs, he transferred the pile of clean but damp clothes from the washer into the dryer from the previous night and started the dry cycle. Hopefully, they would dry in time before he had to leave in the morning for work. Given the departure time at the airport, he needed to be there around six at night which would mean he would have to leave by five-thirty at the latest to make it to the airport in East Boston in rush hour traffic. So, the possibility of coming back home to pack was now non-existent.

Carter entered the kitchen and took out a large glass from the corner cabinet. He filled it with filtered water from the fridge and a pinch of pink Himalayan sea salt kept in the salt pig on the counter by the spices. Rehydrating was key after sleep and a little sea salt with its rich mineral stores in some water did a better job than water alone. He stirred the salt water mixture with a spoon and let it swirl as the large pink crystals continued to dissolve. Carter could feel his extreme thirst and drank as much as he could, leaving about a half inch of water on the bottom with the remaining salt and discarded the extra in the sink.

The microwave clock read seven twelve and Carter knew he still needed to pack and get ready for his flight out of Logan. He grabbed a protein shake from the fridge and began to shake it vigorously while he turned on the espresso machine and let it heat up. He really wanted to pull a shot of fresh espresso then but knew he did not have the time and began to make his way upstairs and got in the shower. The steam button to the shower remained off as he quickly showered in just a few minutes paying special attention to his pits and groin region; the body odor from last night from all the sweating during the moving process hung on him. Carter grabbed a warm cotton towel from the heated towel rack and dried himself off. There would be no time to shave today, but his scruff looked good, and after all, it was a Friday. So, he grabbed the protein shake that rested on the vanity and downed it in a few gulps and exited the bathroom with the towel slung over his shoulder and the gym shorts in his right hand.

The hamper in the linen closet was full so he emptied it into the washing machine, added the towel he just used from the shower and started a "whites" cycle wondering if it would wake Michael. Carter was still naked, with only his gym shorts in hand, and about five steps away from his bedroom when he heard the stairs creak from above.

Michael was already awake.

Carter did not even bother to put his shorts back on or hide his front. There really was no point after last Friday night when they slept naked in his bed all night and then took a very intimate shower together.

"Good morning, how was your first night's sleep in your new room on the new bed?" asked Carter as if talking to Michael completely naked was a normal routine.

"OK. I got a little hot on the mattress though," Michael replied in nothing but his tight white briefs, "But the sheets were so soft, I loved them. Thanks again for those."

Michael tried to avert his eyes away from Carter's waistline. It was not anything new he had not seen before but he struggled to maintain eye contact with him as they continued their conversation.

"Well, you can crank the AC tonight on the top floor and see if that helps," Carter said and looked back at the bathroom, "I'm all set in there if you need it."

"Thanks," Michael replied and walked past Carter.

Carter then walked into his bedroom and shut the door. He opened up his dresser drawer and put on one of his soft cotton fashion jocks and over that, the pair of gym shorts he wore down to the kitchen. Carter loved the way the jockstrap held his package and allowed him to move his legs freely. He thought again about Michael's old school style white briefs and how they reminded him of being back at middle school gym class. It seemed all young men had those same white briefs at that time in their lives, or at least when he grew up they did. Another mental note occurred to him: James needed to take him on a shopping trip when they got back.

He threw his work duffel bag on the bed and began to pack it for the day: a change of clothes for later, his work laptop in its foam protective case, and a couple of clipboards full of therapy regimens for his student-athletes in recovery he updated the previous evening. Carter took another duffel bag from his closet and hurriedly packed for the trip to New Orleans: socks, underwear, jocks, T-shirts, tank tops, running shoes, shorts, jeans, light jacket, and his toiletry kit that was well stocked with a three-ounce bottle of travel lube and condoms. Carter zipped up both bags and left his room as he noted the time of the clock on his wall: seven thirty-two; he would have time to eat a real breakfast downstairs.

The bathroom door was closed and he could hear Michael showering inside. Carter was hoping to get a chance to talk to him before he left for work since he would not be returning that evening. Part of him felt a little bad for not being around this Labor Day weekend, he was actually looking forward to spending some time with Michael and showing him around the neighborhood before he started his new job but it would have to wait.

Carter placed both duffel bags by the side of the couch and went back to the espresso machine and began to start the burr grinder which promptly dispensed fresh coffee grounds into the portafilter. He tamped down the grounds, secured it under the grouphead while placing a white porcelain cup underneath, and started the machine. It gurgled and whined and then the beautiful dark rich espresso began to emerge from the bottom of the portafilter in two darks streams into his cup. A moment later and the crema layer flowed out and capped off the top. The machine stopped and he brought the tiny cup up to his lips and deeply inhaled smelling the complex notes of the new coffee beans he recently added to the hopper above.

"Mmmmm..." he thought, "How would I ever make it throughout the day if I didn't have this to wake up to."

He savored the first sip letting it hang over his tongue and closed his eyes to further heighten the sensory experience. Eventually, he swallowed and placed the tiny cup back down on the counter with a dainty clink.

Carter would not have the time to make his traditional full breakfast with a vegetable egg white omelet so he decided to cheat and go carb and fat heavy instead. He pulled out a sleeve of bagels that he kept in the fridge and a jar of his all-natural almond butter along with another protein shake. He opened the bagels and broke one in half and began to toast it. The jar of almond butter had not been used for a while and the oils began to separate requiring it to be stirred. While the bagel toasted he did his best to agitate the jar of almond butter with a knife and noted that the bottom of the jar was super dense while the oils on the top were very liquid. It was only about a week ago that he last used it but it seemed like it settled and separated awfully quickly this time.

The bagel popped up from the toaster and he started to smear the almond butter over the face of each side. He reassembled them back together as if the gritty nut butter was glue and began to eat it over the sink. The now molten almond butter began to run out of the bagel sandwich and a glob landed in the sink. If James were home and saw this he would have been quickly admonished for not using a plate. But James was not at home. A few large bites later and the bagel was gone. Carter finished off the small espresso cup and placed it in the dishwasher while prepping the second protein shake by shaking it vigorously. He glanced at the clock and decided to drink it on the way and quickly put on his Chaco sandals and threw the drink in his work duffel bag. He would have time to drink it later on the way into Chandler.

Carter glanced back at the kitchen while he picked up both bags and could faintly hear the door to the bathroom upstairs being opened. Michael was finished but Carter did not have the time to say a goodbye or explain his absence this weekend from his last-minute trip. It would be easier to simply leave and text or call later. So, he just left and walked down the stairs to with the two duffel bags in hand.

Michael walked back up to the level of his bedroom on the top floor with a towel still wrapped around his waist and down the narrow hallway passage to his actual room. Most of his clothes were still in boxes and the simple matter of picking out something to wear was not an easy one. However, being overly organized, and a little OCD, he was quickly able to find the box that marked his clothing and proceeded to rip apart the packaging tape that held it together. The first strip with an overhang of tape came up easily but the subsequent ones took a considerable amount of effort as his short fingernails took some maneuvering to effectively grasp the start of it.

He eventually opened the box and realized how much simpler the task would have been if he had a simple kitchen knife to cut the edges. When he unpacked the rest of the boxes he would do that, but, for the purpose of getting dressed, it was fine. Michael pushed the box over to the side of the room with the dresser and built-in cubby holes and shelving and began to take out his items, trying to find appropriate spots to put them. Later on, he would probably have more time to optimize things, but for now, the name of the game was to just unpack. He found his underclothes: socks, undershirts, Hanes white briefs on the top section and began to carefully place them in the cubby holes on top of the recessed area that served as a closet with a bar for hangers. Granted it looked a little childish with his underwear so exposed like that but who would see it besides himself?

Getting to the bottom of the box he found his stack of Denizen Target jeans, thick corded corduroy pants, thick sweaters, along with part of his summer shorts; each item was folded like it were to be placed on the top of a table in a retail clothing store. He would not be reaching for most of these things every day until the weather began to cool down more and placed in them in the drawers of the dresser that was left behind. He saved his summer shorts for another cubby hole next to his underwear. Michael stepped back to look at his handy work after emptying the first box in its entirety. There was something satisfying about seeing all of his things orderly and in place, even though they did not have much material value. However, they did provide him with a sense of order and security; there could be no price on that.

He approached the cubby holes again and took out a pair of underwear and one of the grey colored shorts he just placed there moments ago. He slipped his phone in his pocket that was charging all night that sat by the floor on the side of his bed. A new nightstand was also on his list of things to get for the new room. Michael was now officially getting dressed in his own bedroom for the first time and it felt wonderful to do so. Before he did anymore unboxing and unpacking he wanted to go downstairs and get a knife from the kitchen and possibly something to eat. So, he left the room shirtless wearing his only his grey shorts and started to descend the steps to the level below remembering to take the towel with him to place in the linen hamper.

The sound of the washing machine chugging away on the load of whites that Carter put in before was well underway. Michael opened the linen closet door and placed the used towel in the empty hamper while getting four more crisply stacked towels from the shelving above. The entire idea of only using a towel once still seemed ludicrous to him by college standards. He was lucky to have a clean towel once a week when he did his laundry. It really did seem like he was living at a hotel based on this lifestyle but who was he to argue with the rules that James set up. It was his place after all.

Michael walked into the bathroom and placed the towels on the rack that was still warm from when he took his shower before. Apparently, the heating element was activated when the shower water was turned on and shut off after it ceased. All four towels hung on the rack, with two per side delicately draped over the other in a cascading pattern. Visually everything looked like it was in perfect order and Michael let out a faint sigh of relief.

His pocket began to vibrate as his phone buzzed and notified him that he had an incoming call. He placed his hand in the pocket and took out the phone to see that it was actually Carter calling him; Michael quickly accepted and brought the phone to his ear.

"Hey Michael, sorry I didn't get a chance to say goodbye today. I was in a rush."

"It's fine, I know you had to get to work."

"Yeah, so, long story short, I'm actually flying out of Boston tonight to meet up with James in New Orleans this weekend. It's kind of a last-minute thing."

"Oh, cool. That's sounds great."

"So, because of my schedule today I'm not going to have the time to come back to the South End. In fact, I'm going straight from work to the airport later on today."

"OK."

"So, here's the thing. I was packing quickly this morning and didn't get everything that I needed to bring and forgot some stuff. It's not crucial but it would be great if I could get it. Is there any chance you wouldn't mind meeting up with me at Chandler today and dropping some things off?"

"Um, sure. I'm free. Is there a bag somewhere in your room or downstairs?"

"Actually, I'll need you to go into my bedroom with me on the phone because I honestly don't know where some of these things are."

Michael could sense the awkward tension in Carter's voice but could not easily pinpoint the source of his uncomfortableness. What could be so weird about his messy room and a few T-shirts or bathing suits he forgot to pack?

"I'm actually outside your room on the middle level. Do you want me you to go inside your room now?"

"Yeah, there should be a small navy duffel bag somewhere on the ground near the side of the bed by the weights."

Michael looked around where he said but did not see anything obvious matching that description. He checked underneath the bed but just found some old laundry and clothes that probably needed to be laundered again.

"I'm not seeing the navy duffel bag anywhere, or any duffel bag, you sure it's in your room?"

"OK, don't worry, it doesn't have to be the navy one. I just need a dark zippered bag. Can you open my closet door and get the one that James hates because he thinks it smells from old gym clothes?"

"Let me check."

Michael walked to the closet and opened up the door to find one of the most disorganized messes of clothing falling off hangers, shoeboxes full of papers, magazines, bags, tubs of protein powder and other random junk.

"Hey Carter, there's sort of an avalanche of stuff of here. Where exactly in the closet is it?"

"Check near the right-hand side in the back by the bottom. I think I threw it in there last time."

Michael moved some things out of the way causing a tower of shoeboxes to spill out over him and come crashing down to the floor below. He found the light switch on the side of the door and turned it on. The contents of the closet became more visible and he was able to locate the gym bag that he remembered from his first visit in the back where Carter described it would be.

"I think I found it, it's the black Adidas sports bag, right?"

"Yup that's the one, I know it's kind of nasty by now but can you just dump whatever is in there out into the closet."

"You mean, just add it to the pile of stuff already there?"

"Yeah, you probably noticed by now that I'm not great at organizing my stuff."

"If you insist..."

Michael cradled the phone on the side of his head between his ear and shoulder so he would not break off communication with Carter. He unzipped the black bag on the top and inverted it by holding the bottom on each side and giving it a firm shake. Some gym socks, a stick of deodorant, and a half-empty water bottle fell out right away but the other items did not lend themselves to effects of gravity.

"Hold on a second, I need to pull out some of your stuff. The bag is pretty crammed with things"

"Yeah, no problem, Michael."

Michael placed the phone down on the ground and put it on speaker and proceeded to open up the bag. The smell from the unwashed gym clothing was getting more powerful as the odor began to permeate the small space of the closet. The ratio to body odor to classic Carter sandalwood and bergamot scent had definitely flipped since the last time he smelled it when his ankle was sprained. Overall, it was more off-putting than desirable this time around.

He began to investigate the contents of the bag as he carefully took each article of clothing out: nylon gym shorts, tank top, running pants, sweatband, sneakers, and nasty shaker bottle with a red plastic cap that looked like something was growing inside it. Michael made a point of picking up the shaker bottle and placing it on the floor outside of the closet, it was slated to go in the sanitize cycle in the dishwasher next time he had a chance to run it.

"Hold on, I'm just about done emptying your bag out. I found a used protein shaker bottle but I think there's mold or something growing in it. It should probably go through the dishwasher."

"Oh, damn! I always forget those things. Yeah. If you wouldn't mind, that would be great, but I can totally take care of it when I get back."

The bag was almost entirely empty now and Michael gave it a final shake to check to make sure it was cleared. He noticed there was a small dark article of clothing left, a black CK cotton stretch jockstrap. The CK logo in white font ran across the black waistband while elastic straps designed to connect around the ass terminated in the front of the pouch. Carter wore this and wore it hard, the soft cotton lost its velvety touch when Michael rubbed the pouch between his index finger and thumb. It was somewhat stiff from the dried salty sweat of Carter's workout session after not having been washed for weeks sitting in the bottom of the gym bag.

"Everything OK, Michael?"

"Yeah, I just finished clearing out the bag."

Michael looked back at the phone in horror as if somehow the camera were activated and it turned into a video call. His paranoia was clearly getting the better of him but it was just a typical audio phone call. What was he so worried about after all? No one could see him. Without thinking, Michael stuffed the used fashion jock into the right pocket of his shorts.

"OK, now what? The bag is empty, what did you want me to pack in here?"

"So, in the closet, look in the very top left of the rack. There should be a couple of white hangers somewhere in the mix."

Michael glanced at the mess in the closet but the clothing on the hangers was actually somewhat well maintained despite a few odd shirts falling off the sides. Almost all the hangers were golden oak wood but he now saw a few that were painted white and practically hidden in the corner. He moved in closer and used both hands to push the clothing on the rack to the right-hand side thereby making room the left.

"OK, I found the white hangers."

"Great, I'll explain later but can you get the, well... The soccer outfit? It's the white shirt with a black v-neck collar and the thick red v-stripes going across the whole chest."

Michael took the hanger down from the rack by the metal hook and tried to slip it off wood but could not easily do manage that simple maneuver. He then placed the hanger on the bed and noticed as it was set down that there was a shine to the shirt and something stuffed inside on the pant rail of the hanger.

"Umm, Carter? I can't easily get the shirt off the hanger, it kind of feels like it's..."

"Rubber?"

"Yeah..."

"It is, it's latex. You're going to need to be a little gentle with it and remove the hanger through the bottom of the shirt opening. The matching white shorts and socks should be on the hanger inside too."

"OK."

Michael reached up inside the shirt and pulled the hanger through the bottom freeing the shirt. In doing so, he found the matching white shorts and socks, all of which felt like they were made out of the same latex material.

The attention to detail was unreal, even the socks contained a similar red, black, and white striped pattern. From a distance, it looked like any other boring soccer uniform, but the fact it was constructed of rubbery latex brought an entirely new dimension of intrigue. It also faintly smelled like something he was familiar with but could not easily identify from his memory, something reminded him of Halloween; like a latex mask.

"Are you sure this is right, Carter? It doesn't look like this is your size, it seems way too small."

"Yeah, I guarantee you it's right. You know, it does stretch after all. That's basically the whole point."

"Oh..."

The thought of this soccer uniform stretched all over Carter's body began to send a shiver down Michael's spine. It was just a piece of clothing at the end of the day. However, making the transition of the material from cotton or nylon to latex really began to bring it alive and redefine its purpose.

Michael started to imagine it being stretched over Carter's torso where it would cling to his pecs and abdominal muscles. And then there was his bottom half: the latex top coupled with the matching socks pressed over his bulging calf muscles and the shorts must have been a sight.

Michael was starting to get hard again and getting more lost in thought.

"You still there, Michael?"

"Yeah, just checking that everything is here. Shirt, shorts, and socks. It's all good."

"Great, can you take a clean bath towel and roll it up like a jelly roll with the latex as the jelly? These things can easily get ruined if you wrinkle them."

"Yeah, I can do that. Let me go get a clean towel now from the closet and wrap it up."

"Thanks, I appreciate everything you're doing for me right now."

"No problem."

Michael briefly exited the room and returned with a crisp white towel and laid it down flat on the unmade bed and then placed the outfit on top of it . He gingerly began to roll up the whole latex soccer uniform encased in the soft cotton of the towel and it quickly disappeared into the down white encasement looking like and innocent bathroom linen.e

"OK, what else, Carter?

"Go in my nightstand drawer and get the small clear plastic bottle with a black label on it."

"OK, I see something here that says, `Passion' on it. Is that the right one?"

"Yeah, that's the silicone lube."

"Wow, you must have a busy night planned?!"

"Well yes and no. It's not what you think, it's for the latex, it makes it shine."

"Um, alright. Anything else?"

"One last thing. Also, in the closet, probably near where you found the soccer outfit, my harness is probably on another hanger closeby."

Michael returned to the closet and looked on the left-hand side of the rack where he split the hangers into two groups from before. Nothing obvious jumped out at him and he began to move each piece of clothing over to the right of the rack as he examined the remaining pieces of clothing in his wardrobe. Michael's hand passed another white hanger and from that hung a full body catsuit that resembled something like motorcycle racing gear in dark colors with a predominant red triangle face in the center of the chest.

"Did you find anything yet, Michael?"

Michael was temporarily stunned by the moto suit in all of its glorious shined latex. He had a hard time believing that Carter, who seemed so perfectly normal could have all this gear hidden away in his closet. He never would have guessed in a million years he would be into this stuff.

"Michael, are you there?"

"Yes, sorry. Still looking. Actually, what does it look like anyway?" OK "Well, it's a harness... Sorry, I know that description doesn't help if you're not familiar with it. It's like a few straps of black leather with metal gussets that connects to a black metal D loop in the center."

"OK, let me keep looking."

Michael continued to feather his fingers through each of the clothing items on the hangars and finally got to the end of the rack. Nothing even vaguely matched that description. After having pushed most of the clothing to the right side, enough of the overhead light in the closet could now make its way to the floor illuminating the piles of clothes and items on the ground. He got in a little closer and started to pick through the various articles on the bottom of the closet floor.

"Carter, I think I found it. I guess it fell off the hanger onto the ground."

"Oh good! Which one is it?"

"What do you mean which one? You have more?"

"Look, I'll talk about this later, what color is the metal in the center of the chest area? Is it shiny silver or black?"

"Definitely black."

"Great that's the one. Add that to the bag, too."

Michael picked it up and brought it over to the bed with the rolled up latex soccer outfit. He noted how soft the harness was, it did not feel like the rough leather of a typical belt yet had a very distinctive leather smell. The harness seemed quite basic and similar to the one Michael visualized Carter wearing when he first started to look at pictures of them online when he was back at college.

The whole morning was a lot to take in and mentally digest. He knew about the leather harness from before even though he never actually saw it in person. Michael did not understand its importance or meaning with Carter in the context of his sexuality; it implied a desire to be submissive. Yet, from Michael's impression of him, and the intimate moments they experienced together, it just did not add up.

Carter was a natural leader, he exuded confidence, he had a way of making Michael feel so safe and secure, and he enjoyed when he was the one that felt protected. How could someone also want to wear a harness that implied a taste for submissive behavior? The harness was nothing compared to the latex outfits, that really threw him off. Perhaps Carter was a lot more exciting and adventurous than Michael originally thought.

"The leather is really soft, I'm kind of surprised. I thought it was going to feel like standard tough belt leather."

"I know it's nice, right? it's lambskin I think. It feels wonderful strapped tightly around your chest."

"Is it OK if I ask you why you wear it?"

"Hah! If I was at home right now we'd have a much longer conversation about this. Actually, I think it might be a thing you would get something out of, too. But, I really need to meet with a student in about five minutes. Basically, it's just something that I feel an affinity to. It makes me feel sexy and maybe a little vulnerable. And I don't get to experience those feelings that much."

The idea of Carter having to wear anything besides his own skin to feel desirable legitimately surprised Michael. Everything he experienced with him so far made it appear that Carter just exuded sexual energy in every breath he inhaled and each step he took. The vulnerable piece he understood, in part, straightaway.

The idea of having to be in on-mode all the time telling recovering student-athletes what to do, constantly taking care of them, always thinking about someone else's well-being must be exhausting. When did Carter ever get a chance to focus on himself, besides, when he went to the gym to work on his own body.

Silence hung over the phone line.

"Michael, are you still there?"

"Yes."

"You OK, man? Did I say something to offend you?"

"NO!"

"OK, you think you could meet me at the main campus at Chandler around one-o-clock today with the bag of things?"

"Yeah, where exactly on campus though?"

"I'll text the address after I hang up. I really appreciate this, Michael. Thanks again."

"No problem, happy to help."

"Hey, let's get lunch together today at one then, it'll be my way of thanking you."

"Oh, that's not necessary."

"OK, if you have plans I don't want to mess up your day."

"NO! No plans today. Lunch would be great."

"Sweet, see you at one then. Talk later."

"OK, see you at one. Bye."

Michael pressed the red button on his phone and ended the call and sat down on Carter's unmade bed next to the duffel bag with his gear: one latex soccer uniform complete with matching shirt and shorts, latex sock, rolled up in a towel, a bottle of silicone lube, and a leather harness with black D-ring loop made of soft black lamb's skin.

There was just so much to process and reevaluate about Carter; the initial impressions Michael had formed were still valid but these additional details revealed another dimension of his personality. In some ways, it made him more human to have these kinks. How could anyone be so seemingly perfect, anyway? And more importantly, what was it about a society that made him think that someone had to be vanilla to achieve that exalted status of being sexually normal and mainstream?

Michael breathed in deeply and securely grasped the corners of the bed and closed his eyes. He repeated the breathing exercise a few more times with some long, deep, slow breaths. He opened his eyes and looked at the bag again and firmly zipped it up, got off the bed, and transferred the bag to the ground by the door.

He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out Carter's black fashion jock and brought it up to his face brushing it against his cheek. The smell from being inside his dirty gym bag was quite strong but he enjoyed the aroma of his masculine musk. The desire to bring the used fashion jock closer to his nose and inhale deeply was strong but he stopped short of that and returned it to the pile of clothes in Carter's closet . How could he do this when Carter was so out of reach. It was tantamount to mental torture; he had to focus on something else.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you for making it to the end of chapter nineteen. I've been busy but rest assured I have no intention of stopping this story anytime soon. I estimate this is about twenty-five percent complete at this point. As always, I enjoy your feedback. Please write me and tell me what's on your mind about the story and characters.