This story contains mm situations involving hs boys. If this offends you, please leave now. This story is a work of fiction and is copyrighted by the author.
Tommy
I didn't sleep well the rest of that night. My thoughts were all jumbled. What did I think about what Jake had done? Every time my mind drifted to that question, the flush I felt in my groin area seemed to provide me an answer, one I wasn't sure I was ready for.
Why was I more upset about who it had been (as in 'not Kevin') than about what had happened? What were these feelings about Kevin about anyway? He was more like a brother than anything else? I'd seen him naked thousands of time and had never thought any thing about it.
I looked over at Jake. I was on my side facing him. He was on his side facing the window. Obviously he was trying to put as much distance as he could between us. He was so close to the edge, that if he rolled forward, he'd fall off the bed.
It had been really cool to hang out with him last night. A smile played across my lips. Shit. What a mess.
And that was the real problem, wasn't. I was embarrassed that I had splunked in his hand. As I stared at his back, thinking about the moment his hand had touch my cock, I suddenly wasn't sure why I had freaked so much.
My mind settled some then, and after a needed adjustment, I drifted off to sleep.
It wasn't a sound sleep, and I woke a couple of hours later, my hand down my pants, my dick sprouting some, and, in with tight muscles twinging and aching, my legs reminding me I had run my fastest pave ever.
I wondered how Jake and I would act towards each other. I didn't want it to be awkward. I saw him shift slightly and thought he might be awake.
Another twinge in my legs gave me an idea. When life is troublesome, running is the answer.
"Jake? You awake?"
I thought I heard him sniffle a bit, but then he cleared his voice and muttered, "Yeah."
"Come on," I encouraged. "Let's go for our slug chug and work the kinks out." I wondered if he picked up the double meaning. A slug chug was something our coach came up with. On Sundays after an invitational, we were supposed to go out for a really slow run. It was meant to stretch out the muscles, without straining them.
Jake grunted his assent. He got out of bed, turned toward me and stretched. I stared. He was tenting in all his glory.
He didn't seem to realize this dicked was boned. With a small smirk, I threw my pillow at his groin, and quipped, "Do you mind?"
Realization dawned on Jake's face. "oh, shit. Sorry, bro."
He turned away and rummaged through his bag, pulling out a jock strap and shorts. Unless at practice or a meet, most of us ran bare chested.
As I watched him, he shed his sleep shorts to pull on the supporter. Suddenly I was mesmerized by his butt. I just stared. What the fuck, I thought. I'm staring at a guy's butt and feeling it my stomach. Yet, I didn't take my eyes away. As he bent over, I could see a tuft of his dark pubes between his legs. There was a light trail of dark hair that lined his crack as well. Then his jock strap was up, the V of the straps clenching his firm ass cheeks together, hiding that interesting valley. I shook my head -- again -- what the hell am I thinking??
He realized I hadn't moved out of bed yet and turned around.
"Why haven't you...", he started. He then noticed, and I just realized, that my hand had drifted back inside my shorts.
"Like the view?" he said with a smirk in his voice as he turned around and wiggled his still bare ass at me.
It was my turn to be embarrassed and I replied with the standard, "Fuck you." But it got me moving and I climbed out of bed and pulled my supporter and shorts out of my bed.
He had pulled up his shorts and was sitting in chair pulling on socks. I saw he as half looking at me. For some reason, I decided to remain facing him as I pulled my sleep shorts down and donned my jock strap. While still pulling his socks on, Jake stared at my crouch the whole time. Almost as if my cock could feel the gaze, I felt it start to rise. I wasted no time puling my supporter up and then my shorts.
The awkwardness of last night suddenly came rearing it's ugly head.
"Let's go," I said.
We dropped our room key at the front desk and told the desk clerk we'd be back in a while. The sun was but a glow on the horizon, but the day was already hot. Our pace was only about a ten minute mile, yet we were sweating by the first half mile.
We ran in silent. Not quite an uncomfortable silence, but not a friendly, relaxed quiet either. The tension I had felt last night had indeed coming back. After the first mile, we picked up the pace to about a nine minute mile, still an easy pace. We were hardly breathing. The third mile was faster yet.
The sweat started streaming off me, our breath became a little heavier. It was still well below a race pace, but at a rate you could tell you were working. We kept it up for the return trip.
As we hit the last mile, I felt Jake start to pick up the pace. I matched him. He picked it up some more. I matched him again.
By the time we got back to the parking lot, we were almost at a sprint. it was too close to call who "won". As we slowed to a walk, we both started laughing at the sudden competition. Jake through his arm over my shoulder and proclaimed, "nice run." The smell from his pits suddenly assailed me. And so help me if the smell didn't send a shiver down my spine.
But the run had accomplished what I hoped. The awkwardness of last night was gone. It was as if we burned it up in the last mile sprint. I wasn't sure what might come of this friendship, but can't say I wasn't curious to maybe find out. (Yes, I meant that to sound unambiguously muddled!) As we entered the lobby to get the, Coach Polk walked in. "You boys just finish your slug chug?"
"Yes, sir," we both responded in unison.
"Good. Go get showered up and grab some breakfast, we're leaving at 9."
Having just run six miles, we were ravenous. We ran back to our room. Jake showered first, and then I jumped in. The run had burned out any lingering (dare I say 'sexual') tension that had been between us, so there was none of (what I can admit now) the flirting from this morning.
Coach had driven us up in a 10 pack van. As the youngest, Jake and I had to sit in the far back -- the smallest and bumpiest seat. Not unexpectedly, we were both asleep not long after the Coach drove out of the hotel parking lot.
I woke up I think because I felt the van pull off the highway ramp. We were return to our town. In front of me, I saw all the other guys were crashed as well. Jake's head was resting on my shoulder.
That was no big deal, the van was small and on each of the benches in front of me, one of the guys was leaning on the other.
What was a little out of the ordinary, however, was that Jake's hand was rest on my thigh. I left it there for a couple of minutes. But, as we got nearer the town limits, I casually moved it back to his leg.
I elbowed Jake and said, "We're almost home."
He woke, with a small start. "Thanks," he replied.
Coach dropped each of us off at our houses. Jake got dropped off before me, and I was surprised to find out that he only lived four blocks from me, about 3/4 of a mile.
I was dropped off next. I walked upstairs to my room and found Kevin messing around on my computer. I wasn't surprised in the least. Actually, I would have been surprised if he hadn't been waiting in my room. He knew I'd be back right before lunch and was waiting for me to get back so we could have lunch together. It's just what we do.
to be continued...
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