High School Wrestler

(Revised)
by: Peter

 

(© 2007 by the Author)
 

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...


 

I arrived at the bed and breakfast about four o'clock in the afternoon. When I went inside there was a young man at the front desk, obviously distressed. He was more a boy, at least in the face, but his muscular body belied his youthful looks.

 

"I'm sorry, young man, I can't let you have a room. I'm afraid it would be against the law," the elderly lady was saying in her best kindly tone. The boy looked like he was about to explode, or cry. The woman looked at me as if to dismiss the boy.

 

He stepped aside but didn't leave the lobby. I moved to the counter. "Jack Conroy, I have a reservation," I said.

 

The boy stepped over to look out the window, obviously very frustrated and trying to decide what to do next. I scanned the view; took it all in with one breathless look. He had a bubble-butt stuffed in his jeans that extended down around his thick thighs that fairly bulged at the worn denim. Even his calves looked thick inside the snug-fitting material. From his waist, his upper body exploded into a heavy athletic jacket and his bull-neck stuck out of the collar. As I was signing in he looked around with a look of desperation and anguish. I didn't think I should get involved. I wanted to. Damn, how I wanted to get involved with the kid. I put my credit card back in my wallet and picked up my bag. As I headed down the short hallway to the elevator I heard him speak again.

 

"Ma'am, I drove all night to get here for a wrestling match. I need a place to get some sleep. I'm eighteen, I swear it."

 

"I'm sorry," she said.

 

In that moment I knew I had to get involved. I turned around and went back to the desk.

 

"I couldn't help over-hearing. What's the problem?" I asked.

 

The boy sighed and took his hands out of his jacket pockets. He had big hands and thick, muscular fingers that would feel at home around a football or a bat or a basketball; and I went on to think, a girl's tits, or even a big cock.

 

"I'm here for a wrestling meet over at the high school and I can't get a room because she doesn't believe I'm eighteen," he said.

 

"Your coach should have taken care of that," the woman said.

 

"He did take care of it. He made a reservation for us."

 

"That was assuming he would be with you," she said.

 

"My coach had a heart attack last night," he told her. Then he turned to me. "But he made me come anyway. I drove off and left my wallet at home so I've got no ID."

 

"What about your parents?" I asked. "Aren't they here?"

 

He laughed, a sour laugh. "My parents don't get involved much in my life,"

he said. "This is my last chance to take state," he went on. "I drove all night...and now I'm screwed." But then he set his jaw. "No, I'm not screwed," he said, more to himself than to us. "I'm going to wrestle tomorrow, one way or the other." And with that, he started to leave.

 

"You're welcome to come in and have breakfast downstairs in the morning,"

she said kindly. "It won't cost you anything."

 

"Can't you change the reservation?" I asked the woman quietly.

 

"I simply can't let a room to anyone under eighteen. It's against the law,"

she said.

 

"No, I mean put it in my name," I said.

 

"I'm sorry, but I just freed up the room and it's been taken," she said.

 

"That quick?"

 

"We have a waiting list, it only takes a click of a button on the computer," she said.

 

"Thanks anyway, mister. I'll find someplace to sleep; a filling station, or a doorway," the boy said as he leaned down to pick up his oversized gym bag.

 

"Change my reservation to two people," I told the woman. I tuned to the boy. "You can share my room." He straightened with a blank look on his face.

 

"That room has only one bed," the woman pointed out.

 

"That's okay...I...I can sleep on the floor," the boy said in a grateful tone.

 

"We'll make do," I assured her. "Get your stuff," I said to the boy.

 

"I've got everything right here," he said, shouldering his gym bag.

 

In the elevator he kept his bag shouldered and I saw how wide his shoulders were. I also got the chance to get a look at him from the front; his powerful thighs bulging inside his worn jeans, and the way the waist of his jeans fit loosely around his waist. He had one of those athletic butts that held his jeans up without a belt. His jacket was unsnapped to reveal his flat stomach inside a T-shirt and the cleavage and the inside curvature of his thick pecs.

 

"I don't know why you're doing this, but I sure appreciate it," he said. "I promise I won't get in your way."

 

"There aren't any wrestling fans at your school who might have come to watch you? Not even a girlfriend?" I asked.

 

"Actually, there's not even a wrestling team," he said. "I'm it, except for a freshman kid, but he can't compete here. Coach Davis took it upon himself to work with me; said I had a lot of potential. I guess we'll see about that tomorrow. As for a girlfriend, I date now and then, but girlfriends just don't seem to work out for me, for reasons we won't go into," he said.

 

"Well, I get the impression that you're not going to disappoint your coach," I said with a smile.

 

"It's a chance for a partial scholarship, too," he said.

 

At the room I unlocked it and held it open. The boy walked in and turned around. "By the way, I'm Zack Mitchell."

 

"Jack Conroy," I said and we shook hands. He had a powerful grip and his hand wrapped all the way around mine. "Good grip," I said, rubbing my hand. "You play football, too," I said, noting the front of his jacket.

 

"Yes, but football scholarships are unheard of at my school." He set his bag in the corner, out of the way. I unpacked my stuff and laid the papers and PE record books on the drop-leaf table.

 

"Are you a teacher?" he asked.

 

"History and PE," I said. "I brought the PE record books to update them and some papers to grade. I also fill in coaching when they need me."

 

"Hey, maybe you could be my coach tomorrow...that is, if you have time," he said.

 

"I don't know much about wrestling, except unlike you, I usually got beat,"

I said.

 

"I've lost my share of matches," he said as he dug some money out of his jeans pocket. He was counting it.

 

"Did you loose some money?" I asked.

 

"Naw, just counting it, to decide where and what I'm going to eat."

 

"There's a good restaurant across the street," I said.

 

"I already checked it out, I can't afford that place," he said.

 

"Put your money away," I told him. "Come on, let's go across the street and get something to eat."

 

"I can't let you do that, Mr. Conroy," he said.

 

"A big thick steak and a good night's sleep could make all the difference tomorrow," I said.

 

"You sound like my coach," he said with a handsome grin.

 

"Well, you don't have one, so let's say I am, for now," I said. "Besides, I would like the company."

 

I'd pushed the right button. He wanted to win that match awfully bad. There was obviously a lot at stake for him. We walked over to the restaurant and were seated at a table near the fireplace. I noticed Zack scanning the side of the menu where the prices were cheaper. I took his menu from him and ordered for both of us; steak, baked potato and salad, and a large glass of milk for him. He didn't object. Over dinner we talked mostly about Zack. He didn't seem to like talking about himself but I kept steering the conversation back to him. I thought he needed to be built up. It needed to be about him. I learned that he was a senior from a small school with parents that were uninvolved in his life and I got the impression he was sort of a loner, with his own ideas about what he was going to do with his life.

 

"I can't believe there aren't a bunch of girls here cheering you on," I said.

 

"Like I said, we don't have a wrestling program. I pretty much stand alone."

 

"Yeah, I'll bet you do stand alone among your peers," I said. "And I'll bet the girls don't have any problem picking you out of a crowd."

 

"I do okay, I guess, considering," he said shyly.

 

"You said there was no girlfriend. I never heard of a jock not having a girlfriend."

 

"That just never works out. I can't lead the same life as the other jocks; drinking and partying. I don't have the rest of a team to depend on like football players. It's just me and the other guy. I have to give everything I've got because there's nobody else there to give anything."

 

"You've got a very mature, philosophic outlook," I said.

 

He shrugged. "I just do what I have to do."

 

"Need anything else to eat?" I asked, as he was finishing up his dinner.

 

"No, I've had plenty."

 

"We'll come back over here for breakfast," I said. "The lady was kind enough to offer but the breakfast at the inn isn't for athletes."

 

"I don't eat breakfast before a match," he said. "Just some juice right before the match."

 

"What time is your match?"

 

"One at eight-thirty, the last one at two."

 

I smiled. "There is absolute no doubt in your tone that you will wrestle at two, is there?" I observed.

 

"I'm not just going to wrestle, I'm going to take the title," he said. It wasn't brag and it wasn't a self-serving pep talk. He was confident.

 

"Well, let's get back so you can get to bed," I said. "That other guy is probably already in bed."

 

"Or, maybe he's got a girlfriend who's keeping him up late," Zack mused.

 

Outside, Zack hesitated in his tracks, as if he didn't know where he was. "I'm going to go for a walk," he said. "If I get cold then take a hot shower, I sleep like a log." I stepped toward him. "I, uh...no offense, but I'd like to go by myself."

 

"Sure. No problem. I'll leave the door unlocked."

 

Back at the B&B I went to the breakfast room for some coffee to take upstairs. I was a little concerned about letting Zack go off by himself at that hour. The town was known for its artsy people, the majority of which were gay, and I didn't want anything like that to happen to him--at least not with anyone else. But he was eighteen, old enough that I shouldn't be worrying about him.

 

I stripped down to my shorts and began to mentally bolster my defenses. I wanted this kid so bad! He was a stranger to man-to-man sex...I knew it...but I was ready to change that. Even if he could be had, I couldn't make a move the night before his wrestling match. I sat in my shorts and T-shirt and graded history exams and sipped coffee. Several times, I got up and went to the window to look for Zack. He was gone longer than I'd expected. I began to worry. Not that he was mine to worry about, but I was there and nobody else was, so I guess he was mine to worry about. I went back to the table and started on the PE record books.

 

Zack came in a few minutes later. He shed his heavy jacket and hung it up. He was just as broad without it. Except for his suppleness, he might have been a bodybuilder, but just from the way he moved you could tell his muscles weren't for show.

 

"Okay if I shower, Mr. Conroy?" he asked.

 

"Yeah, you don't have to ask," I said.

 

Like any jock, he was completely at ease with his body around other males and he readily undid his belt and jeans as he stepped out of his shoes. He shoved his jeans down and hung them up. The view from the back, in his briefs, was awesome. He turned, peeling off his T-shirt, and tossed it in the corner with his bag. I looked as casually and discreetly as I could. He was as drop-dead built as he was drop-dead good-looking. He wore his briefs into the bathroom and closed the door. I noticed that he forgot to take any clean clothes in with him. I toyed with the pages in the PE record book and waited. He took a long shower. He came out drying his hair but slipped the towel around his waist before I got a look. He looked in the dresser drawers and found a blanket and extra pillows. He dropped the pillow and spread the blanket out on the floor.

 

"You can't sleep on the floor," I said.

 

"I won't fit on that little love seat," he said.

 

"Take the bed," I said.

 

He stared at me for a second. "I'm not going to take your bed," he said firmly. "Where will you sleep?"

 

"I can sleep standing up, now that I've had a hot shower," I said. "No. The floor is fine," he insisted.

 

"Look, you could be giving up your edge by sleeping on the floor," I said. "Do you think that other guy is sleeping on the floor?"

 

"No, he's from here," he said.

 

"Then don't argue with me. Take the bed."

 

"Yes, sir."

 

He took off the towel and hung it on the doorknob. I don't think he had any idea how beautiful he was, naked. For him, his body was a tool...his stock in trade...something he had to have and maintain to do his job. His looks...well, that was an added bonus that he wasn't even aware of. He hesitated with one knee in the edge of the mattress, his back to me, his tight, round butt muscles separated beautifully.

 

"I hope its okay, Mr. Conroy; I sleep naked," he said.

 

"It's not going to bother me," I said.

 

"Yeah, I guess you're used to seeing naked guys in the locker room," he remarked as he crawled into bed. He pulled just the sheet up over himself. It was quiet and I tried not to make even the slightest noise turning the pages of the PE record book.

 

I finished my barely-warm coffee and turned out the lamp. The room was plunged into a gentle darkness with only the light from the streetlamp outside. I ached all through from wanting to crawl into bed with the boy but I didn't dare. I slept naked, too, and Zack made me comfortable taking off my shorts. I took the pillow and blanket that he'd found and stretched out on the floor.

 

"This is not right."

 

I raised my head at his voice. I thought he was asleep. "What's not right?"

I asked.

 

"This is your room and you're sleeping on the floor."

 

"Go to sleep," I said.

 

"I can't," he said as he threw the sheet off. "I'll sleep on the floor."

 

"You know, you shouldn't argue with the guy who feeds you and gives you a place to sleep," I said as I sat up. He was standing beside the bed in all his wonderful, naked glory with his big, thick cock hanging out over a pair of heavy balls. How could he possibly know that I wanted to devour him. "It's not up for discussion. Get back in bed," I said.

 

"No. I mean, okay, but only if...well, I'm not asking you to sleep with me or anything....nothing funny like that, but....the bed's big enough for both of us...it won't bother me if it don't bother you," he said.

 

My heart was thumping so hard in my chest I was sure he could hear it. This was a dream! I had the most gorgeous, hung, built teenager I'd ever seen in my room, naked as all get-out, asking me to sleep with him!

 

"All right," I said as I stood up. "If that's going to make you get some sleep, it won't bother me either." He crawled back in bed, scooted over to make room, and I crawled in beside him. Together we brought the sheet up and laid back.

 

"I'm not used to sleeping with anybody, so if I take up more than my share of the bed, just kick me," he said as he turned onto his side with his back to me.

 

I turned on my side, facing away from him. I had to, in order to keep my hands off of him. I wasn't going to get much sleep. It was a fitful night for me. I awoke several times to just lie there and watch the boy sleep, and fight to keep from touching him. I was glad to see morning come, although it brought a whole new set of problems. I had Zack running around naked, showering again, drying off, getting dressed and the mere sight of his muscular body had me all tight inside.

 

"You said just orange juice?" I asked.

 

"Yes."

 

"I'll go down to the breakfast room and get you some."

 

Zack was surprised when he saw that I was going with him to the school.

 

"You don't have to do that," he said.

 

"I wouldn't miss it. Besides, you need a coach in your corner."

 

"Thanks."

 

"I just wish it could be your real coach," I said.

 

"Don't worry, I'm taking the trophy back to him," he said.

 

We walked the short distance to the school and took care of the change in registration. I explained about his coach not being able to attend, that I was simply there with him, but the official named me as his coach. I didn't know what I was supposed to do but when Zack didn't invite me to come along with him to change, I sat on the bleachers to wait for him. I felt the tightness inside again when Zack came out of the locker room in his wrestling tights. The bulge of his manhood looked like he had a small anaconda curled up inside his jockstrap. He would be a formidable opponent on that count alone, I thought. I saw other wrestlers discreetly checking him out; more than just his size and muscularity. They were checking him out! If I were them, I would be worried. Watching the young athletes strut around, I had to wonder why they wore the things that revealed all their manly attributes so. Maybe they were designed specifically to psyche the other guy out.

 

Zack was a gifted athlete. If his strength and quickness on the mat was any indication he must be an outstanding football player. Unlike the other wrestlers, he was also nicely tanned which added to the mystique of his powerful muscles. He quickly had his own cheering section, which seemed to surprise and embarrass him, made up of people who didn't know him. I suspected that most of the girls in his cheering section were cheering his good looks and his tanned, rippling muscles...even the very prominent bulge in his wrestling tights...more than his wrestling ability. He beat his opponent handily. He took the victory with great humility and grace. The bulge in his tights seemed fuller now, but maybe it was my imagination gone wild.

 

"Great job," I said and told him how pleased I was when he pulled me in for a tight hug after his victory.

 

"Thanks, Coach."

 

If he only knew what he did to me.

 

"So, what happens now?" I asked.

 

"I grab an early lunch, lie down for a couple of hours and do it again, at

2:00," he said. "See that guy in the maroon tights?" he asked, looking across the gym. "He's going to end up being my competition."

 

I looked around. The guy was big, and muscular, but not as ripped as Zack. He was more bulk than definition. He looked older, but that was because he had a lot of hair on his legs and hair on his chest.

 

"He also knows you're going to be his competition," I said.

 

He smiled with appreciation. I waited till he changed then we walked back. I took him to the restaurant across the street for an early lunch. He tried to pay for it but I made him put his money away.

 

"You can't keep doing this," he said. "You didn't take me to raise."

 

"I'm in this to the end. And since I'm officially your coach, we do it my way," I said.

 

When we got back to the room, Zack stripped down to his shorts and stretched out on the bed to take a nap. I decided to leave him alone. I thought he would be more at ease having the room to himself, and besides, I was having a tough time keeping myself in check. I went for a walk through the town, stopping to look in the shop windows, trying to pass the time. My mind was churning out a plan that I didn't know if I could carry out. Zack hadn't indicted one way or the other what his plans were after his final match; whether he was heading home or not. I had to figure out some way to convince him to stay. Beyond that I had only my courage to worry about. I went back to bed and breakfast and let myself in the room quietly as I could. Zack was sprawled out on the bed on his stomach, his legs spread apart and his arms folded up over his head. He was sleeping soundly, like a boy at peace. I stood and watched him sleep, my eyes raking over the form of his muscular body, from his wide shoulders down to his trim waist and then the flare of his thighs. I gazed at his tight round butt that filled his shorts so nicely. God, I wanted this kid!

 

I went back to grading some papers. They were essays on history so it was a tedious job. I was impressed with some of the students work. One boy, in particular, wrote extensively about the Roman emperors and their boy-lovers. I made a note to check the boy out more carefully.

 

Zack came awake, slowly turning onto his back. He stretched, his muscles rippling. "Where'd you go?" he asked. "You didn't have to leave."

 

"For a walk. I thought you might sleep better if you had the room to yourself."

 

"I didn't intend to run you out of you room," he said.

 

"You didn't, I left voluntarily," I said. "How're you feeling?" I asked. "Are you getting butterflies?"

 

"No. Coach Bodine taught me how to channel the nerves and the jitters into determination. It's a matter of will," he said.

 

I smiled. "That poor guy doesn't stand a chance against you," I remarked.

 

"No less than I stand against him," he said. "Wrestlers, by their nature and training, are very strong willed. That works only if you have the strength to back it up. You saw him."

 

"Yeah, but I'll bet he saw you, too. Don't underestimate yourself."

 

"I'm not. But I don't underestimate my opponent, either. I'm just recognizing his strengths."

 

"Recognize his weaknesses," I said.

 

He smiled. "You would make a great coach."

 

I laughed. "Yeah, if I knew anything about wrestling."

 

Zack glanced at his watch.

 

"It's not time yet," I said. We sat and talked some more, I think to get Zack's mind off the upcoming match. Studly macho as he tried to be...and he was that....he was still nervous. I learned just how much he thought of his coach; how worried he was about him. He loved him in the way a boy loves a man who has time for him. Coach Bodine seemed to fill the void that the boy's father left. I got the impression that Zack was lonely, searching for something to fill a void that he hadn't even recognized yet. I was surprised at his social life, or lack thereof, but that was of his own making. He was too focused on his future to enjoy the present. It was sad, in a way.

 

"I don't know how I can ever repay you for everything you've done for me,"

he said.

 

"I'll think of something," I said with a sly grin.

 

"I think I'll go down and call home; check and see how coach is doing," he said.

 

"Why don't you wait till after your match, when you've got good news for him."

 

"Yeah...good idea," he said.

 

When he went to the bathroom I dug out the tube of lube and slipped it under the mattress; hopeful thinking, for later. We walked over to the school together. I felt like a dad, big brother and coach all rolled into one. We parted at the door and he headed for the locker room to change.

 

"Wish me luck," he said over his shoulder.

 

"The other guy is the one who needs the luck," I said.

 

In the short time I'd known him, I found myself bursting with pride for the boy as I watched him on the mats. Zack easily and swiftly moved to the final encounter till it was him and the big guy in the maroon tights matched up together. They were more evenly matched than they looked. The other guy was bigger, bulkier, but Zack was solid muscle, ripped and quick. It wasn't an easy win, but he took the title. He cried when the referee held his hand up in victory. The other guy cried too, but he gave Zack a huge bear hug and shook his hand. They awarded Zack the trophy and put the medal around his neck on the spot. He came over to me, smiling through is tears.

 

"I took state," he said with pride.

 

"You sure as hell did," I said, beaming with pride as I pulled him into a tight bear hug. He hugged me back. "You're coach is going to be so damned proud of you."

 

It took him awhile to get through the congratulations of the fans and the open ogling of a lot of girls who boldly came up to him to feel his muscles and kiss him on the cheek.

 

"I don't even know these girls," he remarked to me under his breath.

 

"It obviously wouldn't take much to get to know them," I said. He finally escaped to the locker room. I sat down on the bleachers to wait on him.

 

"Your boy did an outstanding job," a man told me, putting out his hand.

 

"Thanks. He worked his butt off for it," I said.

 

The other wrestler came up to me and put out his hand. "You've both got my congratulations," he said. "Not bragging, but I wasn't easy to beat, but he did it."

 

"I wouldn't have bet either way," I said. It felt good that people thought Zack and I were together and it made me feel closer to him.

 

Zack could barely contain himself as we walked back to the bed and breakfast. He was so happy he actually jumped in the air a couple of times.

 

"Mann, I just nailed my future," he said. "I can go to college now."

 

"What're you going to study?" I asked.

 

He smiled. "Sports medicine."

 

"You'll be good at it."

 

Back in the room, Zack set his trophy on the table. "I think I'll go down and call the coach now."

 

"Use that phone," I said.

 

"Naw, I can use the pay phone."

 

"Make your call," I said gruffly, nodding to the phone. I'd never seen anybody so excited as he dialed the number. Since Zack didn't take off right after the meet, and he was calling his coach, I was counting on him staying another night, and if he did I wanted to be ready. I left him alone and went into the bathroom to get myself prepared. I could hear his conversation. He had called the hospital.

 

"Can you tell me if Coach Bodine is still a patient there and how he's doing? This is one of his students." There was a long wait and then someone else was on the line. He had to go through it again, and another wait. Then I heard him say, "I...I see...well...thanks."

 

"How's he doing?" I asked as I came out of the bathroom. Then I saw the color drained from his face. His shoulders slumped and the phone still dangled at his side. "Zack, what's the matter?"

 

"Coach died." He could hardly get the words out.

 

"Oh, Geezusss." I went over and took the phone from him and put it back in the cradle. He slumped down the side of the bed to the floor and sat with his knees cocked up and his arms folded across his knees. His head hung down and I saw his shoulders shake as he began to sob. I knelt on one knee beside him. "I'm so damned sorry, Zack," I said, putting my hand on his shoulder.

 

He cried like a baby, unashamedly, sobbing so hard it must have hurt. I put my arm around his shoulder. "Zack, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you to wait to call him."

 

"He died while I was wrestling. How scary is that? He was the only man in the world I could talk to," he sobbed. "He was the only person in the world who gave a damn."

 

"I give a damn, Zack," I said. "Not like your coach...I haven't known you that long...but I give a damn, and I'm hurting right now for you." He cried and I held him till there were no more tears; till he sort of twisted away from me. I removed my arm. "He must have been an exceptional coach," I said. "You obviously admired him very much."

 

"It went a lot deeper than that," he said, but his voice trailed off, as if there was something else that he wasn't going to say. "He knew everything there was to know about me. More than I knew about myself, sometimes."

 

"Just be glad you had him when you did, at a time in your life when you needed him," I said.

 

"If I hadn't had him in my life, I...I wouldn't be here...I wouldn't be anywhere. He listened to all my problems and he was smart enough to know when he ought to say something, sometimes he didn't say anything at all, he just let me talk and get it out."

 

"He would have been proud of you today," I said. It was hard to think of anything to say.

 

"He would have been proud of me no matter what. He was proud when I got a move just right, when I pinned him. He was...still proud of me, even though..." He stopped short again and I knew instinctively that it was why he'd come up short a moment ago. I didn't say anything. I wanted to encourage him to go on, but I thought my silence was the encouragement he needed. "You're a lot like Coach Bodine," he went on with a wry grin. "You just let me talk."

 

"It's not up to me to drag it out of you," he said.

 

"Coach never did that either. He let me come clean about everything on my own, even when he knew pretty much what I was going to say. He just listened. Then he always put his arms around me and let me know it was okay. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. But he let me know everything was okay...between me and him."

 

Whatever it was that wouldn't come out, he wanted to tell me. He wanted to get it out, and he was so close. I wished there were something I could say to bring it out of him because I thought he felt he was alone with everything now that his coach had died.

 

"Well, I guess I should be taking off," he said as he got to his feet.

 

"You don't have to leave," I said as I stood up as well, with panic in my guts; I didn't want this young stud to walk out of my room. "If there's nothing pressing for you to get back to, why don't you stick around; we'll go over to the hotel and have a celebration dinner. With desert this time."

 

He was hesitant; nervously so. I didn't want him to run away from whatever was bothering him.

 

"Zack, it's none of my business, but I really don't think you should be driving back right now by yourself. I can tell your coach's death really hit you hard. Why don't you stay, maybe talk it out some more," I said.

 

"I've imposed enough," he said.

 

I clasped my hand on his shoulder to stop him from moving away. "Let's get one thing straight; you haven't imposed on me," I said sternly. "I've enjoyed your company, and it's been a pleasure watching you wrestle."

 

"Well, I...I guess there's nothing I have to get home to," he said as he sat on the edge of the bed.

 

"Good. Why don't you see what's on television while I grade some more papers," I said.

 

"Won't the TV bother you?" he asked.

 

"No." I sat at the table with the stack of essays.

 

"What're you grading?" he asked.

 

"Essays on ancient history," I said.

 

"History is my favorite subject, except for wrestling," he said. "I especially like reading about the Romans and the Greeks; they were both very athletic races."

 

"I wish I had you in my class," I said. Then it struck me; an idea that might pave the way for that which I had not yet found courage. I quickly found the essay that the boy had written about the Roman Emperors and their young male lovers and handed it to him, along with another essay, so it wouldn't appear that I was targeting the one. "Here, maybe you would like to read something my students have written," I said.

 

He laid one foot up on the edge of the bed and leaned back against the headboard. He read the one essay and laid it aside then picked up the other one. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye from time to try to glean some reaction. There was none, except for deep interest in what he was reading, and except for one time when he nodded to himself, as if he were in agreement with the author.

 

"I've often thought it would've been great to live in those times, and be a gladiator," he said as he finished reading.

 

"I don't many of them enjoyed a very long life," I said.

 

"The best ones did," he said. "The ones who became famous were treated like gods."

 

"Well, from what I saw on the mats today, you would've been one of those gods," I said.

 

"This is interesting, and well written, but he missed some of important points," he said, handing the paper back to me.

 

"Like what?" I asked.

 

"I could write an entire essay on what he left out," he said.

 

With a sly grin I picked up a writing pad and pen and handed it to him. "Tell me what he left out. I'll pass it on to him," I said.

 

Without hesitation, he took the pad and pen and leaned back against the headboard with both legs on the bed, crossed at the ankles. He pondered for a moment. "It won't be a complete essay, just filling in the blanks," he said as he began to write. His thoughts flowed swiftly, for he seldom lifted the pen, and even then, only for a brief moment to gather his thoughts. He wrote for a long time, paused and added a brief paragraph then read what he had written. He changed nothing, and handed it to me.

 

I read the first sentence and stopped. "Do you mind if I read it out loud?"

I asked.

 

"No, go ahead," he said as he lay back against the headboard again, his muscular arms folded cross his broad chest.

 

I began to read, with great interest, and some surprise. I hadn't expected the content to be so bold, or for it to be written so well.

 

"Relationships between two males in ancient Greece and Rome were quite common, almost always involving an older man and a younger boy in his mid to late teens, handsome and well built. Relationships between two older men were not common and were frowned upon, and the submissive male especially was looked down upon. Putting it plainly, to maintain one's masculinity in such a relationship, one had to be the penetrator. The one submitting to penetration--i.e., taking the woman's role--was seen as effeminate, whether he was or not. This was not necessarily true in a relationship between an older and younger man or boy. The older man was, and was accepted as, the boy's mentor, his protector, and was seen more or less as his teacher in things sexual, therefore the boy wasn't usually looked upon as being effeminate for his part in the relationship, which was almost always submissive, but simply a willing and eager student."

 

I paused and looked over at him. He was watching me, a trace of a smile on his lips; or perhaps the smile was in his eyes. I read on.

 

"The Roman baths, the ruins of which we can tour today, were the focal point of the Roman male social experience. Public nude bathing was the norm, and the baths were constructed with corridors leading to private rooms where men could meet young men, and vice versa. The women--wives--were aware of their men's extra-curricular activities."

 

"The beset example of the pure homosexual relationship was of the Roman Emperor Hadrian. He was considered to be bisexual but his love was reserved for the youth Antinous, believed to be a teenager of sixteen or seventeen. He took him into his household and took the boy with him on his travels for long periods of time. It was on one of these travels that the boy died; believed to have drowned. The Emperor was devastated, his reaction to the youth's death excessive. He had statues of Antinous erected throughout the empire, named a city in Egypt after him, and even had him deified as the god he thought him to be. There was no general outrage from the Roman populace."

 

"In Greek mythology, the gods were always extremely handsome and muscular and of legendary endowment, to render them superior to mortal man and desirable to both male and female suitors. This seemed to permeate down to the human Greek society in general, where physical perfection and beauty, especially in the male, was the benchmark. But it wasn't all brawn and no brains. Like no other society in recent history, the goal of Greek education was the attainment of male perfection--both physical and mental perfection. This education took place in the gymnasium. The gymnasium was the center of every Greek town, and served a far greater purpose than the modern gym. The gymnasium was an elaborate structure with many rooms, baths, and hallways decorated with all sorts of artwork, including statues of gods and heroes. Philosophers, poets, and other intellectuals would come together in these places. Boys and men would spend their days in both intellectual and physical exercises, and it is assumed from the structure of the gymnasiums, in sexual encounters. Youth weren't just valued for their bodies, but also for their minds--their ability to reason and debate. Academic competition was matched by physical, athletic competition. Sports events and even the public Olympics were performed in the nude. Public nudity was not at all uncommon. The body was something to be proud of. It did not elicit the feelings of shame or modesty that many feel or try to impose in modern society. Nudity seemed to be predominate among males, however, sometimes to the exclusion of females, thus more easily and comfortably promoting homosexuality between males. Most athletic games in Greek towns, and especially the early Olympics, excluded females, both as participants and spectators. Men were stationed surrounding the towns to assure that no females were allowed in, thus leaving the spectacles to the enjoyment of men and boys."

 

I glanced at him again and went on to read the last paragraph.

 

"In the soldiers' city of Sparta, it was not uncommon for a warrior to take young recruit under his wing. He cared for him, trained him, and stood next to him on the battlefield, where the two men bravely protected each other. These relationships were both erotic and educational. Wrestling was especially popular among the Greeks, as it matched one against the other, where one was victorious and one the vanquished. It is generally believed that the sport of wrestling emerged as the most popular of Greek athletics because of the hard physical contact between two males, usually naked, which contributed greatly to the enjoyment of the spectators and the wrestlers alike."

 

I held the paper, gazing at it for a moment before I looked up at him. "This is very good!" I said with great emphasis.

 

"The content doesn't bother you?" he asked.

 

"Not at all. You describe very well, how it was all woven into the fabric of Roman and Greek culture," I said. "I want to give this to the boy whose essay you read, if that's all right. He could learn from it."

 

"Be my guest; he doesn't know me," he said.

 

"Zack, you are certainly well read on ancient Greek and Roman history."

 

"Like I said, it's my favorite subject; except for wrestling."

 

"The two are tightly woven into the same fabric," I said.

 

"Yeah...yeah, they are, maybe that's the reason I like both," he said. "I like to imagine what it might've been like to live back then, and be an athlete in that society, in that purest form of athleticism."

 

"Yes, naked athletics was the purest form of physical expression, both for the spectators and the athletes," I said. "And what you wrote, its' easy to understand how wrestling in particular emerged as the predominant sport of Greek athletes."

 

"How would you grade my paper?" he asked with a smile.

 

"B-plus as it stands alone. An A, I'm sure, in its complete form," I said. "Its better than any I've graded of my own students."

 

"That would've gotten me a D back home, and probably a reprimand," Zack said.

 

"A reprimand? Why, for heaven's sake."

 

"The content."

 

"The content is a matter of historical fact. What teacher worth his salt would even consider a D, let alone a reprimand?"

 

"It's just the way things are back home," he said. "Can you imagine Antonius, at sixteen or seventeen, traveling all over the Roman Empire with the Emperor of Rome? How exciting would that be! And having statues of Antinous put up all over the empire, a city in Egypt after him, and even been made a god." He chuckled. "Heck, I haven't been more than a hundred miles from home in my life."

 

"If you had lived in that time, you might well have been chosen instead of Antonius," I said.

 

He laughed again. "Well, I don't now if I would've wanted to pay the price Antonius did for his fame," he said.

 

"I doubt he thought of it as paying a price; more like a reward," I said.

 

"You think about it, our gymnasiums and sports arenas are closely patterned after the great Coliseum and the arenas of ancient Greece, except for the private rooms," he said. "I especially like reading about the soldiers of Sparta and the way the older men looked out for the younger soldiers. It's sort of like the way Coach Bodine looked after me. Except we didn't have that kind of intimate relationship."

 

"Could there have been, do you think?" I asked in a cautiously reserved tone.

 

He glanced down at his hands folded across his stomach. "I don't know. I came close to asking him one time but chickened out. I was afraid he would think I was gay."

 

"Would it have mattered to him?" I asked.

 

"No, I don't think so. He accepted people for who they were. I did open the door, though, I think on purpose, so I couldn't chicken out...I told him the night before we were to leave to come here, I wanted to talk to him about some stuff." He shrugged and tightened his eyes, fighting back tears. "And now he's gone."

 

"I'm not Coach Bodine, but I'll listen," I offered.

 

"You're like him," he said.

 

"I wish I were, but somehow, the way you speak of him, I'm afraid I come up short," I said.

 

"Naw, you don't," he said, shaking his head. He paused for a long moment, gazing down at his sneakers. "You know what I wanted to talk to Coach about, don't you?" he asked with a side-glance in my direction.

 

"I would never try to second guess you," I said.

 

"I wanted to talk to him about feelings that started cropping up in my head a few months ago," he said. "About being gay, and whether I might be leaning a little in that direction."

 

Even though I knew the gist of his thinking, I reeled inside I was so stunned. I remained speechless.

 

"You're the only person I've mentioned that to," he said, looking around at me. "And I can because Coach Bodine would've made me feel like it was okay, and you're so much like him."

 

"It is okay," I said. I struggled to find my voice and my words came out a garbled croak. It was more than okay. His words opened up a whole new world for me and I almost trembled with excitement.

 

He turned to me again, his eyes still wet with tears. "If I ever told my dad that....he would beat me half to death, and throw me out of the house."

 

"That's your dad's problem, then," I said. "It doesn't make you any less a man. And certainly not any less of a wrestler," I added, nodding to his trophy.

 

"That's exactly what Coach would've told me...that I was no less a man."

 

"Before you let yourself get screwed up in the head over it, consider that you might just be experiencing the natural curiosity of every teenage boy on the planet," I said.

 

"Is it natural curiosity that I like to be around other guys, muscular athletes, in the locker room and the shower...why I like to watch their muscular bodies and compare them with my own? And wondering what it would be like to try some of the stuff I saw guys doing in a gay magazine that I found one time?"

 

"Did you keep the magazine?" I asked bluntly.

 

"No." He chortled again. "Well, okay, I kept it for a couple of days; long enough to pour over the pictures and jack off a few times. But then I got rid of it."

 

"I think you're buying trouble, Zack," I said.

 

"How do you mean?"

 

"I think you're worrying about something that doesn't amount to a hill of beans in the ordinary scheme of things. You've had a flare-up of teenage curiosity, fueled by raging testosterone, and a very deep love and respect for a man that obviously made a difference in your life."

 

He laughed. "You could be right. I guess its best to wait and see how things settle after I get over Coach's death."

 

"Zack," I said, biting my lower lip at what I was about to say. "Why don't you plan on spending the night."

 

"Well, I don't have Coach Bodine to go home to...or anybody else for that matter. I guess I could...if you want me to."

 

"Yes, I want you to," I said.

 

"All right, thanks," he said. "And thanks for being there for me, and stepping up to the plate when I really needed somebody."

 

"I'm glad you felt that comfortable with me, to let me help you," I said. I took in a slow, deep breath, quietly, so it wouldn't be noticed. "There is something, though...that you should know, before you decide to stay. I haven't been completely truthful with you. You see, I...well, I am gay. I am and I know it."

 

He reared back like I'd hit him, shock on his face.

 

"You are? No shit?"

 

"Yeah, no shit," I said.

 

"Man, I can't believe that."

 

"Well, take it or leave it, for what its worth," I said with a shrug.

 

"Man, I just never thought...never imagined you...Whew! That's a shocker."

 

"So if you're uncomfortable with it, I'll understand if you decide you want to leave."

 

No, I'm not uncomfortable with it. My essay should prove that. But why did you feel you had to tell me? I sure wouldn't have guessed."

 

"I thought it only fair to get it out there," I said. "And because last night, having you in the same bed with me, I had a hell of a time keeping my hands to myself. And I'm not at all sure I'll be able to do that again. Understand, nothing has to happen. I'll just be here with you. I'll be your mentor, your dad, your coach, the Spartan soldier looking out for you...anything you want me to be."

 

"You don't have to be any of those things," he said. "It's enough just being who you are. And maybe...well, maybe this has all worked out for a reason, the pieces just falling into place, like it was destined to be, that you were on hand to rescue me."

 

"You are wise beyond your years, Zack," I said. I stood and walked over stand beside the bed. His eyes followed me, curious, searching, and I met his gaze. I put my hand on his knee. "I'm giving you this chance to stop me," I said.

 

"All right," he said as he laid his hands at his sides, his eyes never leaving mine.

 

"Curious as you are, you don't have a clue about yourself," I said. "You're so focused on wrestling and your future and becoming the man you already are that you don't see the way other people see you. Girls, women, other boys--even grown men."

 

"Oh, yeah, I've seen how people look at me sometimes, but I know they're just looking at my muscles. I sort of like that, having people admire how I'm built. But sometimes I would like for them to want to get to know me for who I am. Not that I mind being looked at like a piece of meat," he added, with a chuckle.

 

"Trust me, they would like to get to know you, but you're pretty damned intimidating," I said.

 

"I don't mean to be," he said.

 

"Well, you are, at first impression, in your physical appearance," I said.

 

"But I don't intimidate you," he said.

 

"No, not now. I've come to know you. But if I'd walked into the gym and seen the young, muscle-stud walking around with that cocky, almost arrogant stance, I might've been intimidated. Of course, that serves you well as a wrestler."

 

"Have you come to grips with it, Mr. Conroy? I mean, are you certain about your own feelings?" he asked.

 

"On yes. It's not in doubt," I said. I laughed softly. "If you only knew how gay I am right now...ever since I first laid eyes on you, actually. That wasn't my motive for stepping in and offering a helping hand, but I'm not disappointed things are working out the way they are."

 

"I don't think I am either. How are things working out exactly?" he asked.

 

Our eyes met and I shivered inside; it was like he was looking into my soul, and I in his. His eyes searched mine, looking for understanding, guidance, even love and he saw my answer in my eyes.

 

"Will you...show me, Mr. Conroy?" he asked, his voice soft and raspy as he raised up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

 

"Yes." I put a slight pressure on his shoulder, urging him back across the bed.

 

"What do you want me to do?" he asked as he lay back, his legs splayed apart and hanging over the edge of the mattress. The position forced the bulge in his jeans even larger.

 

"You don't have to do anything except relax and let me show you," I said hoarsely. I ran my hand up the inside of his leg, pressing the heel of my hand against the bulge of his jeans, and then ran my hand back down the other thigh. I moved up to his hard, brick-like abs and on up to his pecs. "God, Zack, you've got such a beautiful body," I whispered.

 

He chuckled. "I'm proud of the way I'm built, but I never had anybody call me beautiful before."

 

I clasped my hands tightly around his waist, marveling at the small size of it compared to the wide flare of his upper body. I pulled his belt out of its loop and undid it then fumbled with the buttons of his jeans. When they were open, I knelt down to remove his shoes and socks then raised back up and tugged on the waist of his jeans. He lifted his butt out of the mattress as best he could and I struggled to get his jeans pulled off the contour of his butt. His briefs came with them part way and he instinctively reached down to pull them up.

 

"Do you want to leave your briefs on?" I asked as I pulled his jeans off.

 

"No, it was just an instinctive reaction to pull them up," he said.

 

"Yes, I thought so," I said. But I left them and tugged his T-shirt up. He raised up and peeled it off.

 

"Dam, these thighs are lethal," I said as I squeezed the hard, thick quads. "Geezusss, you are so beautiful. I want to worship you body," I said. I leaned down and kissed his right pec, pulling on his tit with my pursed lips.

 

"UUhhnnnnn," he moaned softly.

 

"That feel good?"

 

"Yeah, I didn't know a guy had feelings there," he said.

 

"You've got feelings a lot of places you don't know about," I said. I moved my lips down his stomach a little ways then went back up to his chest. I nibbled on his tits, one then the other, and moved out further to kiss the curvature of his pecs, and on into his armpit.

 

"Ohhhh, your mouth feels good," he whispered. "But I should probably shower. I get pretty sweaty when I wrestle."

 

"You're fine. I like honest sweat," I said and continued to lap at his armpits. I had him shivering by the time I moved back onto his chest and down his stomach again. "You have absolutely beautiful abs," I said as I kissed the lumps of hard muscle and dragged my tongue along the ridges between them. At the waistband of his shorts I skipped over and went to my knees between his legs. I started kissing his bulging calf muscle and kissed up his thigh, then back down the other.

 

"Ohh....Ohhh, your mouth feels good everywhere," he said. The bulge in his shorts was growing larger and poking out to one side with his hardon. I rose up over him and clamped my mouth over it. "Aahhhhh!" he whimpered, and made a feeble effort to push my face away.

 

"Just let it happen," I said hoarsely. "Let me show you."

 

He moved his hands. I mouthed his manhood through his shorts till the material was soaked with my spit. I knew I was torturing him but I wanted him to want it so bad that he would beg me to show him.

 

"Aww, Mr. Conroy, you're getting me so hot!" he moaned, as he put his hands lightly on the back of my head.

 

"Why don't you call me Jack," I said.

 

"Okay...Jack..."

 

"What were you going to say?" I asked.

 

"I just wanted you to know how wonderful that feels, but I wish..." His voice choked off.

 

"You wish what?"

 

"I wish you'd...do it....show me what it's like."

 

I smiled. He was near the begging point. But I would make him beg. Rather it was I who would have begged to have him. I tugged on his briefs and he rose up to let me pull them off of him. His cock settled like a piece of solid rubber out over his stomach, covering his navel. From seeing him naked, I knew he was bit, but I never imagined he would be this big. I laid my hand around it and my fingers wouldn't each all the way around its girth. It throbbed and quivered on the upswing, lowered slightly then throbbed up again.

 

"You're really big," I said.

 

"I know."

 

"I can't get my hand around it," I said.

 

"I remember the day that I realized my hand wouldn't fit all the way around it and I thought I was turning into some kind of freak," he said.

 

"Oh, you're not a freak," I assured him. "Your cock is awesomely beautiful."

 

"That's what Coach told me. Not that my cock was beautiful, but he told me I wasn't a freak when I mentioned it to him one time."

 

"Did he ever see it?"

 

"Sure, he was my coach, he saw me naked lots of time," Zack said.

 

"I meant, did he ever see you hard?"

 

He laughed. "Only about every day," he said. "Can you...do...I mean, am I too big to..."

 

"No. You're not too big." With that I pulled his cock upright and lowered my mouth over the head.

 

"Hhhaaawwwwwhhhhhhh!" he moaned with surprise. "Ohh, Geezusssss!"

 

I held the head of his cock in my mouth and lavered it with my tongue.

 

"Ohhh...Ohhh, Geezusss...Ohh, my Godd," he moaned as he gaped down at me, his eyes wide with disbelief.

 

I lowered my mouth, taking more of his cock, till the head was pressing against the opening of my throat. He was going to be a challenge. My throat was going to be sore in the morning. But I was up to it. God, I would have taken the boy if he were twice as big. I had no choice. I was committed to showing him; I was his teacher.

 

I sucked him slowly, almost with a reverence born out of worship. He threw one arm over his eyes, whimpering between breaths, making his stomach muscles dance and ripple beautifully. He seemed to be trying to hold still. I clasped my hands under his butt and pulled his hips upward, urging him to move with me. He responded and began fucking upward into my face. Gradually, I was stretching the opening of my throat. I think he thought I was taking him as far as I could, so he wasn't forcing me. Carefully, I pushed down, gaping my throat open, and forced the head of his cock through the opening.

 

"Ohhh," he gasped.

 

I pushed down more, forcing his thick, hot cock up into my throat. Down, down...down...till I had my lips locked around the base, in his pubes.

 

"OHhhhh!" he groaned.

 

I held him there for a moment, gulping and swallowing, milking his cock with my throat muscles, and he whimpered and gasped with pleasure. Then I rose back up.

 

"Ohh, Goddd...I didn't know anything could feel that good," he said.

 

I smiled as I fisted his slick cock and nuzzled down to lick his balls. He gasped and splayed his legs wider, anxious for me to show him more. I sucked them into my mouth, one then the other. They were too big to take both at the same time. Big and heavy; they hung to the mattress. They must be so full! I wanted to empty them.

 

"Aww, Mr. Con... Jack... Godd, that feels so good!"

 

I went back to his cock and moved my mouth up and down the shaft, up to the tip, then back down to his balls. I let my spit run freely down over his balls, down between his legs, knowing it would seep into the crack of his ass where it could be put to good use. Then I went back down on his cock and sucked him in earnest. He responded in kind. I was playing with his butt at the same time and he didn't seem to mind when I slipped my fingers into the crack of his ass--till I found his hole. He jumped and instinctively grabbed my wrist. I pulled my hand back. I would have to take another route there.

 

I went back to sucking his cock, still attempting to finger his ass, till finally, he didn't stop me. I think he realized that I meant him no harm, and it felt good. I didn't penetrate him, I only rubbed my fingertip around the tight hole and soon he was squirming against it. I wanted to show him what it felt like with my fingers dancing around inside his ass...I longed desperately to show him what my cock would feel like...but I would have to go slow and take the other route to get there.

 

"Let's turn around on the bed," I said as I crawled up at the foot of the bed. Zack turned length-ways on the bed and spread his legs out on either side of me. I knelt on my haunches, pumping his cock and squeezing his balls. Then I stretched out on my stomach and slipped my arms under his thighs. He hunkered down for me. I worked on his balls for a moment then lifted them up and nuzzled under them. I felt dizzy from the musky sweat of his maleness. He was going to be wonderful ...delicious! I urged his legs higher and lapped my tongue further under his balls. I found where his taut butt muscles began to separate and shoved his legs higher.

 

"Aww, mannn...w-what're g-gonna do?" he stammered as he complied and wrapped his hands around his knees and pulled his legs up against his chest.

 

"I'm going to show you," I said as I lapped up and down the separation of his butt. He pulled his muscular legs tighter against his chest. I found and flicked at his hole, making him shiver and moan and tremble. I spread my hands out over his butt muscles and pulled his hole wide open. I sucked the aroma into my lungs and drove my tongue inside him.

 

"AWWWWHhhhhhhhhhh!"

 

His butt was a virtual feast. I felt like I had the most delectable morsel on a silver platter. I tongued his ass feverishly, till he was choking back his cries of pleasure. I let myself get caught up in it as much as him, almost frantic with lust for the boy as I drove my tongue up inside him as far as I could reach. It made him squeal with pleasure. We had the entire night, there was no need to hold him off or bring him back down. He was soaring with lust and I wanted to take him over the top. Along with my tongue, I worked one finger into his hole up to the first knuckle. It was enough to demonstrate the pleasure of it without scaring him off. Very gently I shoved my finger deeper, searching for his love nut. I knew that would drive him absolutely crazy. Ahh, there it was...the firm spot down inside his ass...palpitating with its own pleasure. He gasped and jumped when I touched it. I rubbed the tip of my finger over it lightly. It wouldn't take much. I just wanted him to realize what feelings lay inside his ass. I wanted him to want more; I wanted to leave him wanting and wondering.

 

"Ohhmmm, Gezusss," he whispered hoarsely. "Ohh, Jack....I d-don't know w-what you you're d-doing to me, but I....I'm getting close...awwwwhhhhh, so close!" He grabbed his cock and began jacking off. I reached up and shoved his hand away and he moaned with frustration.

 

He was ready and I was ready, waiting on the edge to pounce and deliver him into the abyss of pleasure that he'd never know before. I gauged his climax to bring him just to the brink...make him suffer, even, as I held him there on the precarious precious. His asshole squeezed around my finger then relaxed...then squeezed again and relaxed...and I knew he was about to cum. He was choking on it. I rose up over him and took his cock in my mouth again while I kept my finger busy dancing over his prostate. His love nut was palpitating so hard it was almost quivering as the momentum built up to explosion.

 

"Oh, Godd...Ohhhh...OHH...Ohhh, Jack...I'm gonna cum...you better get off of it...I'm gonna shoot...right in your mouth...Oh, Fuck! If you don't get off of it...!"

 

I didn't get off of it. His cock swelled harder, bolting like a steel rod, and I felt the powerful surge up through the shaft, delivering his load. He fairly exploded. He shot against the back of my mouth like a water cannon. The stuff fairly gushed out, spraying my mouth with the thick whitewash. My God, he was cumming like a young stallion! I massaged his prostate harder, forcing it to jolt his cum out of his body. Very quickly, I had a mouthful of cum and he was still shooting. Where was it all coming from!? He was phenomenal! I had to swallow. I gulped the stuff down and he gave me more. I wondered if he'd been saving it up; if perhaps Coach Bodine was one of those coaches that convinced his boys that jacking off was bad for their health and their athletic ability. Surely, the boy couldn't produce such a huge load every time.

 

I was trembling with pure ecstasy. Sweat was pouring off my forehead. I held his cock in my mouth till the pulsations produced nothing then I swallowed his cock to the hilt. I tightened my lips around the base and held him there for a long moment then raised up, pulling the last of his boy-man-seed out of him. At the top I locked my lips around the gristled rim and tugged on his cock. Then I let it drop. It fell with a heavy smack across his stomach.

 

"Ohhh, Geezusss...awww, fuck, Jack," he whimpered. I loved the word fuck coming out of his mouth. I crawled over and lay beside him. He moved over to give me more room and I stuck out my arm for him to lie on. We didn't speak for a long time.

 

"Zack?" I said finally.

 

"Yeah," he said quietly.

 

"You don't smoke, so I think this is when I'm supposed to ask if you're okay." My joke was lost on him; he didn't know anything about lighting up after sex.

 

"I'm okay," he said. That was all, just okay...he sounded a bit numb or bewildered.

 

"Are you sure?" I asked.

 

"I think I'm more okay than I've ever been in my life," he said.

 

"Good." There was another long silence, but it wasn't an uncomfortable quiet.

 

"Thanks...for showing me," he said, out of breath.

 

"That was just a preview," I said. He turned and looked at me with disbelief. "You saw those pictures in the magazine," I said.

 

"Yes b-but...but I didn't think y-you would...s-show me everything," he stammered.

 

"Till you stop me," I said.

 

He could see my cock throbbing up and down over my stomach. "You didn't make it," he said.

 

"This isn't about me," I said. He looked at me with that soul-reaching look that made me all weak inside. His eyes were asking something but I couldn't read, and I didn't ask. He would have to reveal on his own what his eyes were asking.

 

"I couldn't believe you did that to my butt," he said. "And your finger. You scared me at first but then it started feeling good."

 

"Everything I do is to make you feel good," I said.

 

"You sure as hell did that."

 

"Yes, I could tell, when you went off. You're like a horse," I said.

 

"I know, I tried to warn you," he said.

 

"I heard you."

 

"I couldn't believe when you let me go off in your mouth, and then you swallowed it," he said.

 

"It had to be right for you," I said. I rolled onto my side, propped up on one arm and rubbed my hand across his chest.

 

"Your hand feels good," he said.

 

"Your muscles feel wonderful." He sort of shivered when I dragged my fingers across his tits.

 

"I'll show you how good that can feel," I said as I raised up over him. I put my mouth over his pec muscle and flicked his tit with my tongue. Then I nibbled on it with my teeth.

 

"Awwww....that's gotta be what it feels like to a girl when a guy's sucking on her tits," he said. I sucked his other tit then made my way down his stomach. "Aww, mann, your tongue feels good everywhere." He put his hand on my head. "If you keep going...you're going to have it to do all over again."

 

"Maybe with enough practice, I can get it right," I joked.

 

"Oh, you got it right," he assured me.

 

"I can see you're rising to the occasion again," I said.

 

"It never went down completely from the last occasion," he said.

 

I kept my tongue busy on his rock-hard abs as I watched his cock swell out and quiver and throb before my eyes. Ball-juice began to form in the slit and I licked it off. His cock jolted in appreciation. "I can suck you again, or I can show you more, Zack," I said.

 

"Show me more." I stretched diagonally across the bed on my stomach where I could reach the lube. Zack rose up but hesitated. "I don't think I can...I don't think I'm ready for that, if its what I'm thinking," he said with an unsure, half-smile.

 

I realized that he thought I wanted him to eat my ass. "No, I want you to fuck me," I said.

 

He perked up, surprised. "No...kidding! I saw that in the magazine, too, but...I thought it was posed with some kind of trick photography."

 

"It's very real," I assured him.

 

"Can you take all of this?" he asked, gripping his huge cock. I reached under the edge of the mattress for the lube and handed it to him. "Use your fingers at first, like I did you, get me stretched a little," I said, but he was hesitant. "Don't worry, I'm clean," I assured him.

 

A steady hand reached for the tube of lubricant. He uncapped it, squeezed some out and slid his fingers between my butt. I reared and tilted my butt up for him and he easily found my hole. He was gentle and awkward but I responded with my butt to guide him. He seemed to enjoy using his fingers on me and he soon had three of those long, thick fingers probing in and out of my ass, stretching my hole.

 

"UUhhnnnnnnnnn," I moaned when he found my love nut.

 

"That must be feeling good."

 

"Aww, yesss, when you touch that spot," I said.

 

"What spot?" he asked.

 

"I'll let you know when you find it again."

 

He probed, searching and I groaned again when his fingers touched my love nut.

 

"There?" he asked.

 

"You've got it," I said.

 

He explored my prostate. "That's what got me so hot and drove me nuts, isn't it?" he said.

 

"Yes."

 

"What is it? Something like a clit, like a girl's got?"

 

"No, it's your prostate. Girls don't have `em," I said. "UUhhnn...ohhh, damn, that feels good. You've got such big, strong fingers."

 

Zack moved his fingers back and forth across my prostate, tapping on it. "Ohh, Goddd...Ohhhh...Ohhhhh...Ohhhh, fuck...Aww, Zack, you gotta stop before you make me cum!"

 

He stopped but left his fingertips pressed against my love nut. "Go ahead and come if you want to, but...I really would like to fuck you," he said.

 

"I want you to fuck me," I said. He withdrew his fingers and I could feel my asshole was stretched open. He maneuvered himself into position and I felt the heat of his cock pressing between my butt. It seared my asshole as he pressed against it. He tried several times to enter me.

 

"I don't think I'm gonna fit," he said.

 

"Come on, Zack, you pinned that big brute this afternoon, but you can't bust me open with that big cock of yours?" I chided him, and tilted my butt up more. He took the challenge, not viciously, but he drew on the great strength of his butt and his abs and other muscles to power his cock through my hole.

 

"Hhaaoohhh!" I gasped as the head shoved through. I didn't ask him to stop and wait and he didn't. He pushed right on in, sinking his huge cock deeper, plowing through my insides like a giant drill, till I felt his hard loins pressing against my butt. He held still for a moment, except for his cock throbbing inside me.

 

"Godd, that's the sweetest thing I ever felt!" he exclaimed. He waited a moment longer, as if to relish the new sensations, then slowly pulled back and began to fuck me. He liked my butt as well as my asshole. He squeezed the muscles and kneaded them like bread dough and pulled them apart to give me more of his cock. I was going crazy in my own quiet way. I couldn't let it out without having the whole town wondering what was going on.

 

"My Godddd!" I gasped softly as he skewered his cock into me.

 

"Is it okay?" he asked.

 

"Oh, Goddd, Zack...if you only knew! My God, you know how to fuck!"

 

"It's nothing I learned," he said. "Just something a guy knows how to do."

 

"No, guys don't just know how to fuck like that," I said.

 

"Then I guess I've found my talent," he joked.

 

"Yes, if you don't make it at wrestling, you can earn your way as a male escort," I told him. I loved it when he spread his weight against me, his hard, warm muscles rippling against my backside.

 

"Not that I've had that many girls, but this is better than any girl I ever had," he said.

 

"Do you want to do it like a girl?" I asked.

 

"On your back; you take the woman's position? Yeah, I would like to watch your muscles bulging and rippling while I fuck you," he said as he pulled out.

 

"I've got an idea," I said as I turned over. "I want you to put your medal on."

 

He gave me a funny smile.

 

"I want to know I'm being fucked by the state champ," I said.

 

He smiled as he pulled his cock out of me and stepped off the bed to get his medal. He slipped the ribbon over his head. Then his smile widened as he went over and got his athletic jacket and slipped it on.

 

"Ohh, that is hot!" I exclaimed. The heavy jacket hung open, framing his abs and the insides of his thick pecs. He climbed back on the bed and I raised my legs up.

 

"Okay, the state champ's gonna to fuck you," he said.

 

He didn't know it, but it was a fantasy fulfilled. Zack before me on his haunches in his jacket and the medal hanging between his thick chest muscles, his abs rippling as he fucked me...I was being fucked by every high school stud-jock I'd ever dreamed about. Once he was hovered over me, pressing his chest against mine and I had my arms wrapped around his jacket and our faces were so close, side-by-side. I could smell his sweet, hot breath and I wanted to kiss him but he needed to initiate it. He didn't.

 

"Can I cum in you?" he asked.

 

"Yes, are you getting close?"

 

"I could be, if I let it go," he said.

 

"Let it go," I told him. I wanted him to fuck me all night, but it was about him, and there was more that we needed to explore together. Maybe he wouldn't want any more lessons, once his lust was satisfied, but I took the chance. He didn't go wild when he reached his climax. He just shot off. I could hardly tell he was close till suddenly I felt the heat of his come spurting deep inside me.

 

"Ohh...Ohhhhh, you're cumming...I can feel it!"

 

"Oh, yeah, you're gonna feel it," he assured me.

 

After he shot off he fell weak on top of me. I loved the weight of his muscles on me. It was a wonderful moment.

 

"I'm getting heavy, I'll bet," he said as pushed himself up in a push-up position. He was but I would've stayed like that all night.

 

"You put all the power you've got behind all of that muscle, it's easy to see why you're the state champ," I said. "You could wrestle a bull to the ground."

 

"It wasn't easy," he said. "That other guy had a lot of power behind a lot muscle, too."

 

He stayed on his hands and knees over me for a moment then straightened on his haunches and eased his cock out of my ass. "How's it feel to get fucked by the state champ?" he asked with a grin.

 

"Incredible. You're wonderful, Zack. You fulfilled my fantasy."

 

"Oh? Tell me about this fantasy," he said.

 

"When you were fucking me, wearing your athletic jacket and your medal, it was like I was being fucked by every stud-jock in high school all wrapped up in you."

 

"I'm glad I could make it come true for you," he said

 

"As much as I admired the ancient Greek and Roman cultures, they were wrong about one thing," he said.

 

"What?"

 

"About the man being penetrated, supposed to be effeminate. I felt nothing at all effeminate about you. It was more like we were equals, striving to give each other equal pleasure."

 

"They were right about the absolute adulation of youth, though," I said. "But I didn't get the feeling I was your protector. Yeah, we were equals, for sure."

 

"If I lived back then, I would want you to be my mentor and my Spartan soldier," he said.

 

For the moment, I think we both forgot that Zack thought he might be gay. He was such a stud, and so straight-acting and except for what he'd written in his essay, I wasn't so sure he was. We lay side by side in the quiet aftermath, my ass still clenching hungrily, aching for his big cock. My asshole itched but my cock wasn't hard; only rubbery, lying across my hip. Then Zack spoke, after a loud swallow.

 

"This is so much like the time of the ancient Greeks and Romans...the young student athlete under the guidance of the older, wiser male; or the young soldier being taught by his superior officer. It makes me realize even more that I'm not...well, sure about things...about myself."

 

"Do you want to be sure?" I asked.

 

"Yes."

 

"Well, that's a path you'll have to take in your own time," I said.

 

"This'll probably the only chance I'll have to find out to be sure," he said. And with that he suddenly put his hand over my cock. I put my hand over his and he turned his face to me with a funny look; confused, perhaps that I was trying to stop him. I seized the opportunity.

 

"This might not be the time yet, to explore those feelings," I said.

 

"I can't think of a better time," he said.

 

"There's something I want to show you first," I said huskily.

 

"Okay."

 

I leaned half over him, pinned one of his arms over his head and kissed him.

 

"Mmmhhhhhnnnnn!" he moaned, partly from surprise. He tensed at first but then he relaxed and his lips were pressing back against mine. I flicked my tongue out and he parted his lips. I muffled his squeal as I lashed my tongue around his. I kissed him long and hard, with great passion, probing at his throat with my tongue. Then I parted and lay back. Zack lay there looking up at the ceiling, his breath coming in gasps. Suddenly he rose up over me as I had done to him, and he kissed me. He crawled on top of me as we kissed and when we parted he began his trek down my chest and abs, in search of my manhood, his heavy medal dragging over my muscles.

 

"Zack...!" I moaned.

 

"I wanta do this," he said.

 

I choked down a harsh gasp when I felt his mouth on my cock--such an exquisite feeling; his virgin mouth exploring a cock...my cock...for the first time. His awkwardness only made it more pleasurable. I wanted to cry. I raked my hands across his broad shoulders, scraping at the material of his jacket. Then I pushed it off his shoulders and he shrugged it off. He sucked me for several minutes before he paused.

 

"Is that okay? Am I doing it okay?" he asked.

 

The tears that had already formed in my eyes popped free and ran down my face. "Ohh, Zack...if you only knew how all right it was--you're wonderful. God, you're a dream, Zack." He went back down on me, hovering over me on his knees, and lifted my legs and put them on his shoulders. He paused again.

 

"I like doing it," he said. "I wasn't sure I would, but I do." He sucked me to the brink more than once, each time a little closer, till I knew I wasn't going to be able to hold off.

 

"Zack, you've had me awful close," I said.

 

"I'm trying," he said as he pumped my cock with his fist.

 

"Are you sure you're ready to take that step?" I asked.

 

"No. But I wasn't sure I was ready to do what I'm doing, but I'm doing it,"

he said.

 

"Have you ever tasted cum? Your own, I mean."

 

"Yeah, a couple of times, by accident," he said. He grinned. "No, it wasn't by accident. I tasted it on purpose."

 

"Just a couple of times?"

 

"Yeah...I...I didn't really like the taste of it."

 

"Then maybe you'd better not try a full load," I said.

 

"Do you like it?" he asked.

 

"Yes, I've developed a taste for it, especially young studs like you."

 

"Then I guess I have to develop a taste for it," he said.

 

"I'll warn you, just in case you want to change your mind," I said.

 

"I won't," he said as he went back down on my cock.

 

I held off a couple more times then decided to let it go. He had to make his decision. He was lashing his tongue around the underside of my cockhead with it in his mouth and it was making my asshole twitch and if he didn't stop, I was going to blow. I didn't tell him to stop, though, and he didn't. "Zack....Zack!" I whispered, putting my hands on his head.

 

He moaned and nodded and kept on sucking. Okay, he'd made his decision; he would have to live with it. I sort of relaxed and let my climax sweep through me, taking on such momentum that by the time the spasms were in full force it felt like the top of my head was going to blow off. I think it would have if the pressure weren't released out through my cock first. Zack whimpered a deep moan of surprise when the first shot hurled into his mouth. He choked but stayed on my cock as I gave him another, and another, and another. His mouth was filling but he didn't swallow. But he didn't stop sucking my cock either. He stayed on me with great determination, through to the end, and my cock was engulfed in my own cum. I was anxious, and worried, to see what he would do. Spit it out on the sheet? Swallow it? Swallow and maybe get sick?

 

Suddenly he stopped and rose up. My cock fell heavily across my hip. Zack climbed off the bed, his lips pursed tightly, his cheeks ballooned, and a panicked look on his face. He hurried to the bathroom and I heard him spit as the water gushed into the sink. I wondered if he had managed to swallow any of it. Moments later, he came back. I slid over to make room for him on the bed. He stretched out on his stomach with his arms folded under his head. "I guess I'm not as gay as I thought I was," he said jokingly.

 

"You did fine...if you want encouragement," I said.

 

"I can see why it's an acquired taste," he said. "It's not a taste you'd be born with. I hope I did okay, getting you off."

 

We spent the night having wonderful sex together. I think Zack was having sex I was making love to him. He fucked me twice more, once to my climax, the second to both of us shooting off. And he gave me yet another mouthful of thick boy-cum when I sucked him off. I was stunned when he suggested a sixty-nine.

 

"Listen, we could do this together, couldn't we?" he asked rather timidly.

 

"Yes. Absolutely. It would be wonderful," I said. And he turned around on the bed with his head between my legs and mine between his.

 

"Ohhh, this is better," he moaned as we sucked each other. "Listen, I wanta try to finish you off right this time," he said.

 

"Are you sure?"

 

"Yes. If we can gauge it so we both go off at the same time, I'll be so hot I'll want to do it."

 

I was waiting for him to ask me to fuck him; it was the only thing left to show him. Morning light crept through our window and found us entangled. Zack stirred first and we slowly untangled ourselves.

 

"Mannnnn, if I'd done this before my match, I would've got my ass beat into the mat," he said as he stretched languidly.

 

I smiled.

 

"What's that smile for?" he asked.

 

"Just an observation. You seem so happy in your skin and sure of yourself, compared to the timid, bewildered boy of last night."

 

"Thanks to my teacher," he said.

 

"Well, you passed your exam," I said.

 

He paused. "You didn't have all the questions on the exam that I thought you would," he said. I knew what he meant but I didn't say it. He turned to me and our eyes met and he knew I knew. But he had to be the one to say it.

 

"But I don't think I'm ready for it," he said huskily. "I think I've done pretty good," he went on with a thin smile. "I'm scared."

 

"It's okay," I said. "You don't have to do everything your first time out."

 

"But who knows when another time will come? I was counting on you showing me."

 

I put my hand on his chest. "Trust me, Zack, someone will come along, maybe at college...maybe another wrestler...he'll show you. It'll be the right guy, and you won't be scared."

 

I wanted him to fuck me one more time. He did. He said he wanted to make it something we would remember. He fucked me all over the room, till we were both drenched with sweat, then he drenched me with his hot cum--so much that it was as if he'd been saving it up for a week. I was on my knees in front of him when he shot all over me. He helped me to my feet and led me to the bathroom where he washed me off in the shower.

 

"I've always wanted to do this...soap up another guy in the shower," he said. "There's so much I've fantasized about."

 

"Now, you'll do all those things you've fantasized about," I said.

 

"When that right guy comes along," he said.

 

"He's out there, Zack."

 

"I don't know where to look," he said.

 

"He'll find you. You'll find each other," I assured him. We stayed naked while we packed. Zack patted my butt or squeezed my pecs or punched me in the stomach and a couple of times he hugged me. "It feels so good to be able to do that; to touch another man's muscles."

 

"You do that every time you get on the mat," I said.

 

"It's different." Then he said, "I wish there was some way I could repay you for everything."

 

"You already have," I said. "But there is one thing..."

 

"What? Name it," he said eagerly.

 

"I would like to have your jockstrap."

 

"You want my jockstrap? Sure," he said, sounding confused. He dug it out of his bag and gave it to me. I took the wide-point pen I used for grading papers and printed "State Wrestling Champ" in the waistband. Then I handed it to him, with the pen.

 

"I want you to autograph it for me, on the label," I said.

 

He scrawled his name across the label then added the date below what I had printed. He eyed me with a mischievous grin as he handed it back to me. "Could we make this a trade?"

 

"For what?" I asked.

 

"I've been eyeing those shorts you wear," he said, "the dark blue ones."

 

"Heck, yeah, you can have `em," I said. I dug them out of my bag along with a pair of white ones." I started to tuck the jockstrap in my bag when I had another idea. "Listen, I've got my camera...would you put this on and pose for me?" I asked, handing him his jockstrap.

 

He slipped the jock on and did several poses for me.

 

"How about the jacket?" I said.

 

He slipped his athletic jacket and did a couple of poses in it. One with his hands on his hips, spreading the jacket apart to show his pecs and the full plate of his abs, and another from the back with his tight bubble-butt sticking out under the waist of the jacket.

 

"Will you send me copies?" he asked.

 

"Be glad to."

 

"Would you, uh...take a couple more?" he asked as he shed his jacket and pulled off his jockstrap. He stood wearing only is medal. "Like this. This is the way I should've been awarded the medal. This is the way the match should've been fought," he said.

 

We went back to packing and getting dressed.

 

"Jack, what'd you mean when you said I could earn my way as a male escort?"

 

"You should think that through before you decide to do it," I said.

 

"I think everything through," he said.

 

"Okay. Well, there are two classifications of male escorts," I said. "One is just that...an escort for women who like to have good-looking hunks on their arms. escort her to parties, and such. And entertain her afterwards if that's what she's paying you for."

 

"You mean...fuck her."

 

"Yes."

 

"That's a fancy name for a male prostitute," he said.

 

"Yes. That's the reason I told you to think it through."

 

"What's the other classification?" he asked.

 

"Other guys," I said. "Only with guys, it's usually not a social thing. They hire you to have sex, pure and simple."

 

"You mean I could've been paid for last night?" he joked.

 

"Yes--and quite a lot."

 

"How much?"

 

"For the time we spent, and everything we did; for a guy with your looks and your body, and that huge cock...a thousand dollars, easy."

 

"A thousand...dollars!" he blurted. "Shit, and was I worrying about getting a wrestling scholarship?"

 

"Because you're a champion wrestler, and it's what you do," I said.

 

We rode the elevator down and dropped off the room key at the desk. Outside, he walked partly toward his Jeep and partly toward my car, as if he were confused where he should be going. Then he stopped.

 

"Thanks, for everything--for being there for me when I sure as hell needed somebody--and for showing me everything."

 

"Don't thank me," I said. "I'm the one to be thanking you."

 

"Oh, here...," he said as he dug out his wallet. "Let me pay you for part of the room and meals."

 

"No," I said, holding my hand up.

 

"Come on, I feel like I ought to pay you something," he said.

 

"It's going to take you awhile to realize all there is to know about yourself, but you've given me the most wonderful night of my life. You've paid me a hundred times over."

 

He grinned, a mischievous grin that I hadn't seen before. "Well, okay, maybe I have," he said. "I gave you my jockstrap. And at a thousand bucks a night, maybe you owe me."

 

"Maybe I do. But I couldn't afford you."

 

Standing in the parking lot I said something that had haunted me after we'd hooked up and had sex so many times.

 

"There's something I want to say, Zack. I know you believe you're gay but I want you explore your feelings some more before you jump to that side of the fence. It's just as likely that you're just experimenting around, dealing with your curiosity When you get back home, and in college, do a reality check and see how you really feel about girls."

 

"You mean I could be bi?"

 

I shrugged. "I just want you to be sure of the lifestyle you might be choosing for yourself."

 

We shook hands then hugged hard and tight then parted ways, promising to keep in touch. It was his idea; he wanted prints of the pictures, but I was hopeful, and deeply touched that he asked for my address and phone number. A few days after I got home I received a short letter from him, thanking me again for everything. I was embarrassed by it; I wished he would stop thanking me when I had him to thank. He also tucked in a bill for eight hundred dollars for "services rendered." But he never asked about the pictures.

 

I brought Zack's essay to school to give to the boy, Adam Schiller, who had written the essay about the Roman Empire. I told myself it was strictly for literary purposes to let the boy read it, but I was sure enough of Adam that it would spark an interest; and I took the time to check his school records to make sure he was over eighteen. Yeah, right, that was literary. I gave it to him after class on Friday.

 

"Should I read it now?" he asked.

 

"Yes, I'll need it back; you shouldn't take it with you," I said.

 

He sat down in the chair right in front of my desk and began go read.

 

"You can read it aloud if you like," I said.

 

"This is very good. Who wrote this?" he asked.

 

"A student of a teacher friend of mine," I lied. "I thought you might be interested, since you've shown such an interest in ancient Roman and Greek history."

 

He began reading aloud while I watched for his reaction. His facial expressions were priceless and soon he was squirming in his chair. Once he glanced up from the paper and I thought he saw me staring at his crotch.

 

"This is really good," he said, looking a little flushed.

 

"Yes, I thought so," I agreed.

 

When he was finished, he said, "It's much better than what I wrote."

 

"The two compliment each other," I said.

 

He gazed at the paper for a moment. "There's a certain romanticism about it, in the way he wrote it. Especially how the battle-hardened Spartan soldiers mentored the younger recruits." Then he stood and came up to my desk to hand me the paper. I thought it odd that he moved to the side of my desk when he was sitting right in front of it. I thought the front of his jeans looked fuller. He leaned in to press his thighs against my desk, causing his bulge to protrude out over the edge. I started to reach for paper but he laid it right in front of his bulge. My eyes fixed on the protrusion for a second and when I glanced up from it, he was looking at me. I glanced at the door, with a surge of forbidden excitement. We were on the third floor, at the far end of the hallway; someone coming could be heard. I looked back and he was pressing himself harder against my desk, or his bulge had expanded, I couldn't be sure.

 

"Stand on the other side," I told him in a husky whisper, motioning to the left side of my desk.

 

He moved around to the other side and when he came up against the edge of the desk, my hand as there. He pressed his manhood hard against my hand. I reached over with my other hand to unbutton his jeans; he wore no belt. When I had his fly open he eased back so I could reach inside his shorts. He helped me, stretching the waistband of his shorts down under his balls, revealing his very impressive cock. I turned in my swivel chair and he came around to stand in front of me.

 

"I wish I could've been Antonius," he said.

 

"You are a modern day Antonius," I said. "You're a very beautiful boy and if you had lived in that time, they would have erected statues in your honor."

 

Looking in his face, he looked happy with my analogy. I leaned down and took his cock in my mouth.

 

"Ohhhhhh," he moaned softly putting a hand on my shoulder and one hand on my head. "Ohh, Mr. Conroy, that feels so wonderful."

 

I sucked him gently, wondering if this was his first time. I dearly hoped so. We couldn't be long; the risk was too great. It was a foolish thing to be doing. The foolishness lasted only a few minutes. When he acted like he was getting close I raised up.

 

"When you're ready, you can come in my mouth," he said.

 

"Ohh, Yess."

 

The mere mention of it must have excited him. His cock like steel in my mouth and he clasped his hands around my shoulders as his lips lurched out of control. The next instant he was spurting powerful ropes of warm, boy-semen to splatter against the back of my mouth. His climax lasted only a short time but it was terribly intense, taking complete control of the boy's body. As he came down from it, he trembled and gasped for air. I saw that his legs weren't going to support him and I stood up to let him sit in my chair.

 

"I never...had...anything feel so good...in my life!" he gasped.

 

I kept my eye on the door as I used my spit to wash down the taste of his come. I gave him a minute to recover.

 

"Can you stand?" I asked, laughing softly.

 

"Yeah, I think so," he said. "Ohh, Godd, Mr. Conroy, nothing ever felt so good."

 

"I'm glad. Was it your first time?" I asked.

 

"Yes. I never imagined it could be so wonderful."

 

"You need to get your pants up," I said, feeling nervous now.

 

He gave me a strange look as he was doing up his pants. "Did you...swallow my come?" he asked.

 

"Yes."

 

"Oh, that's hot!" he said.

 

"Yes, it was pretty hot," I agreed, anxious now to get him out of my classroom. I walked to the door to check out the hallway; there was no on there. He walked past me.

 

"Thanks, Mr. Conroy."

 

"Don't thank me," I said. Then I did another foolish thing. "Adam," I said. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. I hesitated. No, I shouldn't. But the fresh, sweet taste of him lingered in my mouth. "Do you know where I live?"

 

"Yes."

 

"All right," I said, nodding.

 

"When?" he asked.

 

"Just call," I told him.

 

The summer passed and I never heard from Zack. I longed to get in touch with him, but I needed to hear from him again first. He was out there making a life for himself; I couldn't interfere. I didn't know which path he had chosen. I thought he would contact me about the pictures. I wondered a lot how Zack was getting along in school; if he'd met that "right"

guy...wondered if he'd gotten his tight ass fucked yet. I couldn't send the pictures to his home and I'd forgotten where he was going to school, till one day I got another letter.

 

Jack:

 

Well, I'm in college, using up that wrestling scholarship you helped me get. I promise to do you proud. I like it here. I've done and am doing what I promised. I'm dating girls, too. Note; the operative word is `too.' I enjoy their company but I feel just as comfortable with them platonically as I am screwing them. Meanwhile, I've met some really great guys at wrestling meets but nothing has developed between us. No guts.

 

Also a really neat guy at the gym. He's a gymnast, but that's okay. He's got muscles, and he's cute as hell. I think we're establishing sort of a connection but we're both afraid to take it to the mat. I know he thinks I'm straight. Who knows? I'm taking your advice; I'm taking it slow and cautious. Consequently, I am still waiting to be `shown' that final frontier. I've wished more than once that I'd let you show me when I had the chance. Needless to say, my sex life is pretty much on hold except for my fist, and a couple of girls. My fist serves me well. Just wanted you to know that I think about you and that I will never forget what all you did for me. You set me on the right path so I can find my way in this life. No one else, except Coach Bodine, cared enough to do that. You can tell that, obviously, nothing has changed at home with my folks. But that's okay. We get along as well as need be.

 

Gratefully yours, Zack

 

I let a few tears fall over his letter. It...he...meant so much to me. He still didn't realize how much, and maybe I hadn't either till I read his letter. Meanwhile, I was foolish enough to let my emotions get in the way of common sense and started up a relationship with another of my students. It was only a short time after young Adam had moved away. This boy reminded me of Zack in his manner and his build and his good looks; and that he seemed to be lost to the world, lacking good parental guidance from home. I found him looking down in the dumps one day and asked him what the problem was. He said his life was going down the tubes. I thought it was girl problems, except the only problem I knew that Brian Tate had was warding the girls off. He was a stud, and I couldn't imagine a stud having girl problems and I told him that.

 

"My car is dead in the water, I need new tires for starters," he said.

 

"Oh, I thought it was something serious, like girls," I said.

 

"I can't afford to take a girl out on a date," he said.

 

All I could offer were words of comfort at the time but concerned, I gave it some thought and with the help of a friend of mine, we got Brian a job at the nearby college as an artist's model. He balked at first. He had the looks and the body for it but he was self-conscious about his body and shy to a fault. I took him over to the college and the woman who interviewed him was so sweet and gushy that she very quickly put him at ease. So at ease that she had him out of his clothes in no time so she could see if he had the qualifications. She laughed a throaty laugh when he hesitated about taking his clothes off for.

 

"Mr. Conroy told me you're an athlete. Surely you're used to being naked around other people," she said.

 

"Well, yeah, but...it's around other guys in the locker room," he said.

 

"Come now, are you telling me that none of the cheerleaders have been privileged to feast their eyes on that magnificent physique?"

 

He dropped his head, blushing. "Well, yeah, that...but this is different."

 

"Just pretend I'm one of those cheerleaders and I've sneaked into the locker room, are you going to make a dash for your clothes?"

 

"Well...no," he said.

 

"Wonderful." She motioned for him to undress.

 

He took his time, every move precise, obviously stalling. Finally he stood before he in all his glory. She was elated to see him naked and hired him on the spot. I asked her if I could come with him and sit in on his first session and she agreed.

 

"Are you ready for this?" I asked him as we drove to the studio on campus.

 

"I don't know...I'm nervous," he said.

 

"You have nothing to be nervous about. You'll make a perfect model. Just keep your mind on the money."

 

He was so nervous he broke out in a sweat as he was undressing. But Zoe put him at ease as she was standing, waiting to take his shorts. He pulled them off and handed them to her to put with the rest of his clothes.

 

"Now, just imagine that you're walking into the locker room full of cheerleaders," she whispered.

 

He was still red in the face nervous. "Okay, but...well, we never talked about it what if I...you know...get excited in front of everybody."

 

She glanced down at his manhood with a smile. "I'm sure they would be delighted if that happens. Don't worry about it. They're drawing the human form, and you are the epitome of that...in whatever form your body decides to present itself."

 

"Okay," he said, shaking his head.

 

Zoe and I watched him walk into the room and take his place on the platform.

 

"My Godd! Does he have a clue?" she said.

 

"No," I said.

 

We heard soft gasps and whispers and an Ohh, My Godd when Brian appeared.

He struck a relaxed pose, looking rather coyly to the side.

 

"He's good," Zoe said.

 

The experience not only brought in some much-needed cash, it also made Brian more aware of his sexuality. He made good tips.

 

I caught him practicing some poses one day in front of the mirrors in the locker room after he had showered. His body was still wet and glistened in the soft light from the naked overhead bulbs. He jumped when he heard me and quickly grabbed his towel.

 

"I thought I was alone," he said, embarrassed, as he began drying off.

 

"No need to be embarrassed, Brian, its not like I've never seen you naked before," I said. "Besides if you're self-conscious in front of me, how the hell do you pose naked in front of a whole class?"

 

The incident opened up a new avenue of communication between us, which eventually led to my seduction of him one late afternoon after school. It happened as if it'd been well planned out; even choreographed. He came into my office to ask me something, still drying off, and I couldn't help looking at his big cock, so fluffed up from his shower and the way it was swinging around, I made a remark.

 

"Damn, you could put an eye out with that thing, Brian," I said.

 

"Only if you're down where I would hit you in the face with it," he said.

 

I was taken aback by his boldness, and I think it surprised him too. He seemed to know what I was thinking. The moment that followed was an electrifying one and drew us together like a magnet.

 

"Zoe's right about you," I said.

 

"Right about what?" he asked.

 

"You don't have a clue about yourself."

 

"What about me?"

 

"I could tell you...you're so naïve...I could better show you."

 

"Show me what?'

 

"Did you lock the door?" I asked.

 

"No. But I will." He walked off with the towel slung at his side to lock the door. I heard the click and he came back, his big cock swinging beautifully. He paused in front of his locker, unsure what to do; maybe unsure what I would show him. I walked over and straddled the bench in front of his locker.

 

"Be careful, don't put my eye out," I said huskily.

 

He took a step to close the short distance between us and I was face to face with his gorgeous manhood; so close I could feel the heat of it. I ended up sucked his cock that afternoon; giving him his first blowjob. That's all it was for him; raw, raging sex and he couldn't get enough of it. It snowballed fast. He didn't make any demands of me, but he was horny for a blowjob every day of the week and we had to move it to my apartment. I passed it off as tutoring him in history for anyone who asked or wondered.

 

I loved having sex with Brian but I longed for Zack and wondered constantly how he was doing. I decided to pay him a visit. I was dubious about surprising him but I wanted to find whatever I might find. I left after school on a Friday and drove the six hours to where he went to college. I searched for his address among the rows of dormitories but there was no such address. I finally asked at a gas station and got directions. He wasn't living in the dorm. He lived in a large three-story brownstone in a very nice neighborhood. I had butterflies in my stomach as I knocked on the door. It wasn't Zack who answered the door, but a tall, lean-muscled youth wearing onionskin running shorts and sneakers. His body was ripped and glistening with sweat. His dark eyes danced as he opened the door.

 

"Yes, sir, what can I do for you?"

 

"I was looking for Zack Mitchell," I said.

 

"Zack's gone to work. I was just getting ready to shower and get dressed and go down to the club," the youth said. "Are you his uncle? I know you're not his dad."

 

"No, I'm...I'm just an old friend. We met at one of his wrestling matches,"

I said.

 

"Conroy? Jack Conroy?" he asked with a wide smile.

 

"Yes."

 

"Zack's talked a lot about you. Come on in. You can come down to the club with me. He'll be glad to see you."

 

"I wasn't sure...I didn't let him know I was coming."

 

"I'm Aaron," he said, putting out his hand.

 

We shook hands and I watched his muscular arms flex. I had a tough time keeping my eyes off his abs. And his tiny shorts bulged out nicely in front and he had terrific thighs. He excused himself and went to shower while I wondered about Zack and this incredibly handsome, built young stud he was obviously living with. I also wondered about the apartment. It didn't fit the mold of poor, struggling college students. Aaron came out wearing pale yellow shorts, very short, and a dark blue body-fit knit shirt that hugged his body like a second skin, and hiking boots and a baseball cap. He almost took my breath away, and I could only imagine how it would be to see Zack again. We drove in Aaron's car to the club, wherever it was; whatever it was. I didn't ask what kind of club it was; I would find out soon enough. Located on the very edge of town, the place was called BS. The entrance was down a dimly lit alley.

 

"The BS stands for babes and studs," Aaron explained as he led me down the alley. "It's pretty risqué for a town this size, but it is a college town, and it's tucked away down here in the warehouse district where it won't cause the locals any embarrassment. Actually, it's out of the city limits."

 

Inside the music was loud, with a deep, throbbing beat. It was packed with college kids, plus a few older men, like myself, and some, male and female alike, who, up close, didn't look like they were old enough to be there. Aaron led me through the crowd toward the bar. I wondered, then, if Aaron was old enough to drink, or Zack. Aaron wedged in between someone to order drinks without asking me what I wanted. I looked around for Zack, expecting that maybe he was tending bar. It took a few minutes for my eyes to get used to the soft but intense lighting and I didn't see him anywhere. Maybe he was operating the lights, and there was the mist of smoke from one of those machines.

 

"What does Zack do here?" I asked. "Is he a bartender, on break or something?"

 

"No, he's working right now," Aaron said, nodding toward the back of the huge, darkened room.

 

I saw the cage, then, suspended down from the ceiling just high enough so people couldn't reach it. I couldn't make out features, but there was a very shapely woman dancing in a thong and pasties. covered with a thin negligee-type thing and an equally shapely male in crew socks and very brief, tight boxers. He was behind her, twisting and grinding his hips and shoulders to the beat of the music as he ran his hands up and down her body. "That's Zack?" I asked, after gulping down my surprise.

 

"Yeah, let's try to get closer. He probably can't see you, but you'll be able to recognize him."

 

I squeezed through the crowd behind Aaron to the back.

 

"I hope this doesn't offend you," Aaron said, turning around. "Maybe I shouldn't have brought you here."

 

"No, it doesn't offend me at all," I assured him.

 

We managed to squeeze in along the back wall where I could watch Zack and the woman going at it. Now and then he would press himself against her and twist around like he was fucking her from behind. The thought crossed my mind that perhaps Zack had found himself and not crossed to my side of the fence after all.

 

"The place started out as a strip club but the female students complained about their boyfriends bringing them here and having to watch other women. So they have male and female dancers now, so it attracts everybody; something for everybody," Aaron explained.

 

Aaron stayed with me for a few minutes then saw someone he knew and excused himself. I was in my own little world, standing down in the shadows watching the gorgeous young stud do his sexy, sensual moves. I could feel the tingling in my loins; dam, I hoped I didn't get a hardon. But then, what would it matter? I waved up at the cage a couple of times but he didn't see me. He seemed to be too preoccupied with dancing to notice anybody, and the lights were on him. They did a couple more numbers before there was a break in the music. Zack helped the girl out of the cage and other eager, willing hands reached to help her down the ladder to the floor. There were some eager and willing hands reaching out to help Zack too when he came down the ladder. He was surrounded by admirers, male and female alike, complimenting his body, his dancing, and grabbing quick feels of his muscles.

 

"Hey, Zack!" I called out.

 

He turned around when he heard my voice and I waved to him. He didn't see who it was at first but we made our way through the people toward each other till he recognized me.

 

"Jack!" he exclaimed happily. "Jack, it's great to see you!" He pushed through and gave me a big, hard hug. I nearly fainted at the feel of his warm, naked, smooth muscles against me, remembering that fantastic body in bed. He pushed his way through the admiring, groping crowd to the back where there was a little room, barely larger than a closet that was used as a dressing room. He closed the door to the din of noise and hugged me again.

 

"Man, it's great to see you!"

 

"It's great to see you. You look fantastic out there!" I said openly ogling his mostly naked body. "I hope I'm not intruding on anything. I should have called but I wanted to surprise you."

 

"What's to intrude on? I'm glad you came. I've got another set then I can probably talk my way out of here," he said.

 

"Don't let me interrupt your work. I certainly don't mind watching," I said with a wide grin. My eyes raked over him again. "Goddam, you look hot in those boxer briefs."

 

"Last night I wore those shorts you gave me; the blue ones," he said. "They always go over great."

 

"How do you manage to keep everything inside them?"

 

"So, you must have found my place and met Aaron. I guess he brought you here."

 

"Yes, he seems like a nice guy."

 

"He's a great guy. You know, you said that I would find the right guy...or the right guy would find me. Well, he did."

 

"I want to hear all about it," I said.

 

"Well, there's not as much to tell as you're thinking," he said. "But we'll go into that later." Someone brought a cold drink in for Zack and another beer for me.

 

"How did they know I was in here?" I asked.

 

"Aaron. He sent the beer in. He's leaving us alone. He's like that."

 

"Does he know...about how we met?" I asked.

 

"Yes, I've told him about you. We'll go into that later, too."

 

His break was a short one. I watched him through another long set, getting hotter by the minute as I pictured and prayed that I could have that gorgeous body writhing and twisting on top of me before the night ended. Another male dancer took his place and Zack got dressed and we left. Aaron left by himself and me with Zack. Aaron must have taken the long way home.

 

"Give me a minute to shower," Zack said when we went in the door of their apartment.

 

I was surprised and a little disappointed that he didn't invite me into the shower with him, or at least into the bathroom. I almost went in anyway but thought better of it. I didn't know enough about his life to be so presumptuous. He came out a few minutes later, drying off. I stared at him. I couldn't take my eyes off him and they kept focusing on his manhood--that beautiful, huge, perfect manhood. I saw him notice and looked away.

 

"Sorry," I mumbled.

 

"It's okay to look," he said. "For you especially, it's okay to look. It's part of my job, you might say, being ogled; it's what I get paid for.

 

"So, how are you affording this apartment?" I asked.

 

"Well, you could say I took your advice; I put my body to good use. I was at the BS one night and one of the owners came up and asked if I would like to be a dancer. I told him I would think about it and he approached me again later in the evening and I told him, yeah, I would come by for an audition. He told me I didn't need to audition; he said I could get up there and start dancing right then and there if I wanted to."

 

"Did you?"

 

"No. I had to get used to the idea first. I didn't go back for several days. But I finally decided to put my muscles to good use. I'm also models for the arts classes," he went on.

 

I thought of Brian and the odd parallel between the two boys.

 

"So you didn't become an escort," I said, laughing.

 

"Yes and no. I ventured down that road a couple of times. The first time turned out okay. It was with a younger guy, maybe your age, well-built and good looking and he had a great sense of humor and I was completely at ease with him. The second time was a nightmare. I responded to the guy's call, and when I got to his hotel, there was this huge, fat guy at the door. He looked like a beached whale when he lay on the bed. I almost panicked; I couldn't go through with it. Finally, I let him suck my cock but that was it. So I abandoned that profession for awhile."

 

"For awhile?"

 

"I get offers all the time at the club," he said. "It's a whole different clientele and I can judge for myself on the spot whether I want to go with them. It works out good. I don't end up with any more beached whales."

 

"I trust you are wrestling," I said.

 

"In season," he said. "Off season, I do private or exhibition wrestling."

 

"You'll have to explain that," I said.

 

"Well, I discovered that there are a lot of men over in Charlestown who follow college wrestling and like to take advantage of the young college guys. The owner of BS put me on to it. I get hired out by small, private groups to do wrestling exhibitions with another wrestler. It usually ends up naked and then goes from there. It pays dammed good. You take care of a few of the guys, then there are always good tips. Then I get invited back sometimes to do private wrestling, where one certain guy pays me to come to his hotel room and wrestle him." He chuckled softly. "Its weird, I get paid for beating somebody's ass."

 

"It sounds like you're doing very well for yourself," I said.

 

"It's getting me through college very nicely," he said. "I don't intend to keep up the side jobs once I get my degree."

 

"Why not? It'll probably pay as much as what you're studying to be," I said.

 

"That's what Aaron keeps telling me."

 

"Is Aaron?....we were going to talk about Aaron," I reminded him.

 

"We've only been together for a couple of months," Zack said. "By together, I mean sharing the apartment. He thinks I'm straight."

 

"Is he straight?" I asked.

 

"Well, I think he is but on the other hand, I think he might be interested in climbing over the fence, just to see if the grass is greener," he said.

 

"You've lived together for two months and you haven't taken him over the fence?"

 

"It's coming. I told you I wouldn't know how to meet people for that."

 

"Does he know what you do at the club...I mean, as an escort, and the private wrestling?"

 

"Yes, but he thinks...or pretends to think...it's all on the up and up."

 

"If he isn't straight, you are putting yourselves through an awful lot of unnecessary pain and agony," I said.

 

"Well, I am still dating girls once in awhile," he said. "That's why he thinks I'm straight."

 

"Zack, have you...I mean, you certainly seemed to be enjoying dancing with that girl up in the cage. Have you found the path you want to take?"

 

"I enjoy it a lot. But I think I would enjoy dancing with a guy just as much." he said.

 

"I think you two guys are wasting time," I said. "Hell, you ought to at least come together just once so the air is cleared. Do you want me to make that happen?"

 

Zack laughed. "I'm not even going to ask how you would do that."

 

"Well, when we met at the bed and breakfast, I had no expectations whatsoever of ending up in bed with you," I said. "There's something I've gotta ask you, Zack," I said.

 

"The answer is yes," he said with a knowing grin.

 

My eyes lit up even though I felt a twinge of disappointment. "That's great! But it wasn't Aaron, was it?"

 

"No, it was a guy at the gym; another wrestler. I'd worn those blue shorts you gave me and he made some remark about them; a jokingly derogatory remark and I pretended to take offense. We started wrestling around like guys will, and things got out of hand, and the next thing I knew he had me spread-eagle across a bench, boring me a new asshole."

 

"He didn't rape you," I said.

 

"No, it wasn't rape. It was a fantasy come true. In fact, he used something on my ass to deaden the pain. It was great. I've always wished it could've been you, though."

 

"Me, too, but it wasn't the time," I said. "I told you it had to be in your own time, with the right guy."

 

"You were right."

 

Aaron came in and we sat around and talked for a while. Then I remembered the pictures. I got them out of my bag and gave them to Zack. He just smiled and nodded his approval. Aaron reached for them.

 

"Wow! These are great!" he exclaimed. "Hey, we ought to frame this one," he said, holding up the picture of Zack posing in his athletic jacket and jockstrap, with his hands on his hips. "I've never seen this jockstrap," he remarked.

 

"I don't have it anymore," Zack said. I wished he had said he'd given it to me; that would've brought things out in the open, or at least raised Aaron's suspicions. Toward evening the boys insisted I stay the night. When it was time to go to bed, both boys, in turn, offered to sleep on the couch and give me their bedroom. The moment was at hand. "I'm not taking your beds," I said gruffly. Zack especially was insistent that I take his bedroom.

 

"I'll take your bedroom if you guys share the other bedroom, that way nobody has to sleep on the couch." I said it with the authority of a coach in a tone that they didn't argue with. I went to bed but I couldn't sleep. I lay there trying to imagine what might be happening in the next room; listening for some sign that they had perhaps discovered their secret. Of course, there was till the off chance that Aaron was, indeed, straight, but that didn't mean he wouldn't want to have sex with Zack. I finally dozed off and was lost to my exhaustion, till the respectable hour of six-thirty. I blinked my eyes open to my new surroundings then got out of bed and crept down to Zack's bedroom. The sight of the two boys in bed took my breath away.

 

They lay entangled with Aaron spooned against Zack's backside, his arm over his chest and his leg over Zack's thigh. They were both naked. There was a towel on the floor along with a condom wrapper and a tube of lubricant on the nightstand. Yes! Aaron had taken Zack again to that new frontier! One of them stirred, and then the other and they came awake, stretching away from each other. Aaron blinked with surprise at me standing there and reached for the sheet but Zack held the sheet back.

 

"It's okay, he knows," he told Zack said.

 

"Oh. Oh, that's great," Aaron, said.

 

"You were right about everything, Jack," Zack said. "All I had to do was wait."

 

"What're you talking about?" Aaron asked.

 

"He told me all I had to do was wait and be patient; the right guy would come along." Aaron looked a little embarrassed and I still didn't know if he was gay or if he was straight and liked having gay sex.

 

"Well, I, uh...I think I'll take a shower," he said as he got out of bed. "You can have my place," he said to me.

 

I was startled by his remark.

 

"It's okay, we're not lovers...yet...and he told me about you and him. I figure you two have got a lot of catching up to do."

 

I looked at a smiling Zack, who rolled over onto his stomach, clenching his butt muscles. I crawled in bed with him, my cock already fluffing up. He wanted me to fuck him!

 

"Come back after your shower," he told Aaron.

 

Aaron looked at me, as if for permission.

 

"Yes, come back and park that tight butt of yours on my face," I said. "And I've never been in the middle of a sandwich," I added with a mischievous grin.

 

"Didn't you tell me you wanted to try taking two guys at the same time, just once?" Zack asked.

 

"I don't remember saying it, but yeah, I would like to try it," I said.

 

Aaron went to take his shower.

 

"If I was out of line...if you don't want to do it...no problem," Zack said.

 

"No, I do. Maybe I did say it."

 

"Naw, you didn't," he said. "Aaron's pretty big. I'm bigger around, but he's LONG. He's going to go in awfully deep."

 

Aaron came back refreshed and fluffed out. Zack and I were engaged in a slurping, hungry sixty-nine.

 

"You started without me," Aaron said.

 

"We saved the main event for you," Zack said.

 

He had Zack's athletic jacket. "Here, wear this. You look study as hell in it. Add a little jock mystique to it. And hey, do you guys mind if we video it?"

 

I didn't mind. Zack didn't mind. We went back to sucking each other's cocks while Aaron set up the video camera.

 

"You guys know I'm going to use this video at the collegiate film festival," Aaron was saying. I didn't mind. Zack said he didn't mind, and we went on sucking each other's cocks.

 

The End

 

If you liked the story--or if you didn't--please rate it and leave your comments. I would also appreciate hearing from you personally at

 

Posted: 03/14/08