The following fictional story deals with sex among males. If you are offended by such material, are too young, or reside in a location where it is not allowed, please depart. Though not observed in this story, care enough about yourself and humankind to practice safe sex.
The author retains all rights. EvanBradley33@Yahoo.com
Chapter 13 An Undertow
Jamal
While the other members of the crew were attending a Renegades ballgame, Jamal was driving to a party at a new condo complex for young professionals on the edge of the city. The host was one of his high school buddies who'd just earned a Bachelors in Accounting. He told Jamal he needed some studs to keep all the hot women he'd invited happy. That's all it took to persuade Jamal that this party required his presence. His buddy's comment reminded him of his role as a jock stud in high school - not entirely welcome memories. Back then he was constantly attended by women. They were nearly crawling into his jeans. He thought he was the Cock of the Walk - until he observed what had happened to one of his high school jock brothers, Donneal Watkins.
Donneal and Jamal had been best buddies since junior high. One was always trying to outdo the other at just about anything. But their competitive spirit seemed to feed rather than impede their friendship. In high school, they were a powerful duo on the court. One of their favorite pastimes was dreaming about earning basketball scholarships and attending college together. Though he never disclosed it, one of Jamal's secret dreams was "doing Donneal." Donneal noticed Jamal's frequent arousal when they were together, but he attributed it to Jamal's chronic horniness.
Donneal had been aggressively pursued by a female classmate, Sherinn, who made him feel GOOD. True to the competitive dynamics of their friendship, Donneal got a kick out of boasting to Jamal in detail about sex acts with Sherinn, for she would do anything he asked for as long as he asked. She drove him wild. He'd never had a woman so focused on fulfilling his every desire, making him feel like a king. Jamal was envious - for a short while. Not too many months after Donneal and Sherinn seemed to have become a serious couple, she paid a Sunday afternoon visit to him and his parents, announcing that she was pregnant and Donneal was the father. His parents and Sherinn insisted that they marry. Jamal could see the anguish of his friend, for whom college and a basketball scholarship were no longer a dream. When Donneal heard the yet-to-be-born baby was a boy, he was hooked. Sherinn cared nothing about his going to college. She expected him to do his duty - get a job and support her and their child. She insisted on staying home and caring for their baby. Jamal and Donneal drifted apart after the wedding. It didn't help that Sherinn kept him on a short leash. Jamal had seen him a couple of years later. He seemed like a robot, his face devoid of its former spirit and humor. The spark in their friendship was gone. Jamal had mourned for weeks after that.
That chain of events had sobered Jamal. He vowed that he'd not become a victim of a barracuda looking to make a baby to trap a working husband. Because he'd always been open to a little sex-buddy play, he had started getting his rocks off with guys to avoid any fatal entanglements like Donneal's. By the time he was a senior in high school, he was back to dating women - college women. He was so handsome and hot that they liked sex with him but weren't interested in getting married. Trapping a man into marriage was not on their agenda - at least not a man like him. Dinnea had taught him that - painfully.
An accounting major, Dinnea Royston had set her sights on Jamal at a college party. She liked his square-jawed, butch look. Brooding, dark eyes. Broad shoulders and miles of rounded, mounded muscles. Bowing biceps, thighs, and calves. A bubblebutt. The other women at parties were quite attracted to Jamal, itself another attractant to Dinnea. She liked having a man other women wanted. Jamal made her laugh, and he treated her as though she were a national treasure. It never occurred to him until much later that it was the same song with Dinnea as had played when Donneal had hooked up with Sherinn - merely in a different key. He thought the college party circuit protected him from women playing sexual politics.
Dinnea and Jamal had dated with increasing intensity for three months, moving into a serious relationship. But in the fourth month, at another college party, she had met Barry Russell, a law student. Barry's parents were professionals, and the family had MONEY. Barry was handsome all right. Six feet, two inches of lanky, sculpted, muscled, milk chocolate, hot, male flesh. Sauve, cultured, poised, intelligent - if they weren't competitors for Dinnea's attention, Jamal would have been interested in "doing Barry."
Over several parties, Jamal watched the flirting between these two grow. Finally, Dinnea had - in the presence of everyone at a party - announced loudly that she was leaving with Barry, that they would be dating each other exclusively. Dinnea shot Jamal a look replete with victory. He knew she was gouging him because she raised her eyebrows ever so slightly as though to say "see what I deserve." Barry kissed her hotly, to which all gathered made noises: "Wo-o-o Wo-o-o!" "Way to go brotha!" "Hot time tonight!" and the like. Dinnea had kept shooting Jamal glances full of smirk. Jamal wanted to sink into the floor. For the first time ever his lack of a college background made him feel like a third-world citizen. Even his overt masculinity didn't protect him from feeling inferior. He suddenly realized that Dinnea had used him while she trolled for someone she considered better, some college guy with a bright future, social standing, and all the accoutrements of that lifestyle. Jamal had slunk out the back door of the condo and sneaked to his car. Just as he reached it, he saw the couple in Barry's BMW zipping away to coital bliss. He vowed never to be humiliated like that again. Barry and Dinnea married in a splashy society wedding three months later. Jamal hadn't even received an invitation - not that he would have gone anyway. That total shut-out seemed to be Dinnea's final word on what he had meant to her.
Jamal left that circle of friends, rejecting invitations to parties and dinners until finally the invitations stopped coming. He couldn't stand the thought of running into Barry and Dinnea, and his humiliation over that night continued to burn within him. He was determined that THAT door in his past was closed. He returned to getting it on with guys. He didn't get a sports scholarship as he'd hoped. Then he heard about Winston Construction Company. He never looked back.
Jamal and Hal
Hal had read angst in Jamal's demeanor when he appeared at the construction trailer seeking a job. He was attracted to Jamal from the start - those intense eyes squinting as though in pain; his defensiveness like a palpable force field cast about him; a cold, almost insolent demeanor; mounded pecs and flat belly; rounded ass; developed thighs; and uniform chocolate skin. Hal knew Jamal would be packing an admirable cock.
Their peculiar relationship had started forming at Murphy's Gym. They couldn't get through a workout session without one's challenging the other to a lifting competition or the like. Jamal had felt as though he had his buddy Donneal back, so he threw himself into those competitions with Hal, expecting him to become his buddy. Unlike Donneal, the crew picked up on the sexual ambience infusing the competitions of the two. Once Jamal had joined the crew at Murphy's Gym, there was no way he wouldn't find out some of the details about Hal's sexual relationships with other members of the crew.
Truth to tell, he wanted to "do Hal." He even wanted Hal to do him! But Hal never put the moves on Jamal - not even when Jamal invited it. Jamal had become a sex buddy to Max and to Rich. He was also a third player with Ted and Levi. He and Tonio discovered a special depth during their couplings. Jamal welcomed it but didn't push it even though his feelings for Tonio were growing deeper. He knew Tonio had hang-ups about getting too close to a sex buddy. Over a series of "dates," Tonio had disclosed what had transpired between Hal and him. The details only whetted Jamal's appetite to get it on with Hal. But Hal never made any moves on Jamal, a fact that smoldered deep within Jamal, slowly growing in intensity.
Finally, driven by sexual frustration and too much ambiguity about his standing with Hal, Jamal drank himself silly one evening. He decided to go tell Hal what he thought about his treatment of him. Jamal arrived at Hal's home, knocking angrily on the door, weaving a little as light from the living room spilled out onto the porch. When Hal opened the door, with no ado, Jamal demanded to know if the fact that his dick was black put Hal off. Hal grabbed one of Jamal's developed biceps and pulled him into the living room, slamming the front door. Jamal was swaying a little, informing Hal, if he hadn't already guessed, that Jamal was stewed.
"Yeah, I know your kind, Hal. It doesn't make any difference whether crackers like you want cock or cunt. You don't want it with any color - at least not black. Admit it - you don't like my color."
"You bastard! I LIKE your color. It's not that!" Hal answered defensively.
"Don't feed me a line like that. I've heard about Max. About Rich, about Ted, and about Levi. And especially Tonio. You could give THEM some action when Max threw them in your lap. But I'm not good enough! I'm black-assed trash."
"Wrong! Have you noticed what happened after I hooked up with every one of those guys you named?"
"I wasn't working for you then."
"Except for Murphy's Gym, do you see Max and me together off site?" Hal snapped.
"I don't follow you around!" Jamal snapped back.
"You see me with Rich? Are you blind? You can't see that Ted and Levi are a couple?"
"I know that! We've even gotten it on together a couple of times," Jamal spat out. They don't have any problems with the color of my dick!"
Hal expelled a burst of air in frustration at Jamal's implicit accusation. "They dropped me, dumbass!" Hal shouted. "They all dumped me!" Hal nearly sobbed out, flying at Jamal, hating him for calling up his ugly past, feeling like a loser, implying that Hal was a racist. They grappled, fell to the floor, wrestling with each other, rolling around the living room. Before they knew it, each was feeling the other's hard cock shoved against some part of his body. Their movements were still powered, powerful, but a new potency imbued them.
'What the hell is going on?' Jamal thought to himself.
'I want him," Hal thought. 'Now.'
Simultaneously, they attacked each other's clothes, ripping off shirts, opening belts and jeans, ripping down undergear. A little croak escaped Jamal's throat when he saw Hal's hard dick. He dived into Hal's hairy crotch, snuffling around, pulling in his man smell, licking lustfully.
Hal rotated around until he was in Jamal's crotch. There he found a fat, six-inch dick, bowing out in the middle just like Jamal's thighs and calves. The cap was astonishing, the tip a lighter brown than the rest of Jamal's skin, but the flared frenum was pink. Hal hadn't seen coloring that was such a turn-on. Curly black hair framed the cock and a nice sack of balls. He filled his nostrils with the smell of a hot, young, aroused male, licking first on the backside of Jamal's scrotum and then around the sides. He began running his palm over Jamal's hard ass, occasionally running his middle finger into the cleft.
While Jamal had already deep-throated Hal's dick, he loved Hal's move to his ass. He pulled off Hal's dick, stuck his thumb in his mouth, coating it with saliva and then moved his thumb to Hal's pucker, initiating a thumb massage.
It was turning into another competition. Hal wet two of his fingers, unceremoniously piercing Jamal's sphincter. Jamal let out a little shout of surprise and pain. He replicated Hal's hasty attack on his hole with two of his fingers, earning a loud grunt from Hal. While Hal was plunging his mouth up and down Jamal's dick and finger-fucking him, he started teasing Jamal's balls with the fingertips of his other hand, a move that produced some wiggles in Jamal's ass because his balls had already drawn up tightly in his sack. He was moving toward shooting. Why wouldn't he be with Hal's stubble rubbing against his sensitive inner thighs? Man! What a turn on! He knew it would be this good with Hal. Just as he fantasized it would be with Donneal.
Jamal swished his tongue all over and around Hal's mushroom cap, wrapping a hand around Hal's sack and pulling on it in time to his mouth moving up and down Hal's cock, and he aimed his long fingers at Hal's prostate, repeatedly hitting it as his fingers plunged in and out, enjoying the little spurts of precum he could taste. They speeded up, and their lingual lovemaking grew louder with slurps, moans, grunts. They couldn't hold it any longer. Hal was the first to shoot. His orgasm was so strong that Hal felt as though he would pass out. Immediately a blast of Jamal's warm jism shot to the back of Hal's mouth. Neither one stopped finger-fucking the other until their orgasms had spun themselves out. Then they had rolled apart, reorienting to the situation slowly as they lay flat on the living room carpet.
Finally, Hal leaned up, resting on his elbow, looking at Jamal's sexy body. "You open for more of this?" Hal asked, looking from under his eyebrows at Jamal.
Jamal was silent for a few seconds. "Open for what?"
"Being with me . . . having a relationship with me . . . loving me, letting me love you?" Hal asked, the volume of his voice dropping with each phrase.
Suddenly, Jamal detected a wordless voice deep within him. He didn't hear words, just message. The message was that Hal and he could never be lovers. If they tried that, it would destroy any other kind of relationship they could ever have, including employer-employee. It was that competitive dynamic between them. Something innate within them. He could have handled it with Donneal but not Hal. Jamal knew he liked Hal. They weren't made to hate or even dislike each other, but they were not made to be lovers. Sex buddies somewhere down the road, possibly, but maybe not even that. Jamal had cast about in his mind for a reply, each second adding to the burden he was feeling. "We can't be involved romantically. It will turn into the biggest knock-down, drag-out you can imagine. Think about it. You'll realize I'm right."
Hal gulped and then slumped. Jamal felt guilty, but he knew he'd spoken an absolute truth. Hal arose slowly, walking to his boxers, his slobber-wet, partially erect dick swaying. Hal snatched them up, pulling them on. Jamal watched quietly as Hal restored pieces of his clothing to his body. Jamal opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. He reached out to touch Hal when he moved closer, his back to Jamal, but then Jamal pulled his hand back. He finally arose and donned his clothes quickly, walking to the front door. "Guess I'm fired."
"Don't be an ass. You've still got your job. I need good workers," Hal said softly.
"Thanks, Man." Jamal stuck his hand out for a shake. Looking at Jamal's hand, Hal challenged, "I guess you don't like my color," turning and walking into the kitchen, leaving Jamal speechless, his hand hanging in the air. He'd been kicked in the ass by his own words. "See you at the site tomorrow," Hal said, his back to Jamal, who let his hand fall to his side, a frown on his face, feeling as though his reason for hitting Hal's home had blown up in his face, feeling as though he could never fend off the implicit accusation that his response to Hal's invitation was racially motivated. He walked out the front door, closing it behind him, disturbed by the impression that he'd just been involved in a wreck.
Hal opened the refrigerator, snagging a longneck, allowing the door to slam, wafting a cold breeze against him. He twisted the cap off the bottle, threw it accurately across the kitchen into the wastebasket. He placed his arm across the top of the refrigerator, took a long drink, and then rested his forehead on his arm, staring at the smooth white surface of the refrigerator door, staring at his life, staring at nothing. He wished desperately that he could erase the strenuous sex bout with Jamal from his memory banks, for it had fired feelings deep within him.
'Damn!' Jamal thought as he drove away from Hal's home. 'I never knew hot sex could go so wrong. If everything is right, sex is supposed to make something better - as long as you're with real people. Not people like Dinnea. Hell! She castrates guys - unless they have money, the only antidote for her poison. Hal isn't Dinnea. So what went wrong?'
Jamal and Hal had never had sex again. It wasn't for want of desire on Jamal's part. Some months on down the road, when their relationship had smoothed out enough to look like all the others among the crew, it had still taken Jamal a full week of wrestling with himself before he could ask Hal for help with a down payment on a new car when his old beast was dying. He expected Hal to throw Jamal's need for his money in his face. Hal didn't. Just wrote him a check. When he handed it to Jamal, he looked into his eyes, smiling: "I get one of the first rides." Jamal smiled, relieved that Hal wasn't going to bash him. He'd given him that ride in the new car. In fact, he'd taken them to a tavern and bought Hal a beer. It was a time when they visited freely about trivial stuff just like buddies. That dynamic between them continued, especially when they competed against each other at the gym.
(To be continued.)