A gay story: Swim Team Ch. 12-13 – Growing Bond I blinked awake and extended my arm, searching for Michael. He wasn’t in the bed. I popped up and scanned the room, finding him sitting on the floor against the wall holding his legs, rocking, sniffling.
My throat clenched.
Why didn’t I learn my lesson? Keith said it wasn’t cool–Not cool to make moves on someone who can’t say yes or no.
His name came out in a quiet rasp. “Michael?”
He shook his head and choked, whimpering. “I’m a terrible person.”
“Hey, no, no, you’re–”
“I am.”
Eyes blinking, my throat froze.
“Why did I come with you?”
No words formed for me.
“I wanted it. I wanted–needed to know.” Michael sniffled. At last, he lifted his gaze to me. “Take me home?”
***
Stanley and his dads showed up. I told them everything.
“Pobrecito.” Paolo sighed. He looked at me, mouth closed and eyes heavy. Stanley sat next to his Papa.
Jake patted my back, hugging me tight. He released me, clutched each of my shoulders, and looked into my eyes. “What can we do to help?”
I collapsed onto the couch behind me, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know.”
“What can we do, Amore?”
Jake pursed his lips. “We need to get him out of there.”
“Amore,” Paolo stood and placed a hand behind Jake’s neck. They stared at each other. “How can you be sure that’s what Michael wants?”
Jake reached across his chest and squeezed Paolo’s hand. “What boy knows what he wants?”
“If it were me,” Stanley coughed into his fist and stood. “I wouldn’t want to stay in that house — with nothing, nothing to do but think about–.” He trailed off.
“Do you know if Keith and his family would accept another–huh.” Jake fumbled.
Stanley turned from us.
“I don’t know.” Stanley’s face lowered, and he shook his head. “Things are already complicated.” He turned back to us. “Keith’s family has a lot going on.”
“Why not here?” Paolo searched each of our eyes, hopeful.
“This place has baggage.” Stanley folded his arms. “He needs–some space to work through this on his own–at least until he asks for help.”
“Ah, Mijo,” Paolo and Stanley embraced. “Smart boy.”
Stanley turned to me. “Can you call to see how he is, at least?”
I turned over, laying on my back. “He doesn’t have his own phone.” I blew raspberries.
“That much I can fix.” Jake picked up his cell.
“Jake no.” I blurted. “That’s too much–”
“When I was his age, there was no one I could talk to. It was hell. If I can do anything to help the poor–I want to do it.”
Stan and his Papa glanced at each other.
A hollowness pinched inside me.
I hope Michael’s ok.
***
After visiting the cell phone store, I got out of Jake’s car from the passenger side around the corner from Michael’s house. Stanley leaned across his Papa. “All you can do is try.” Paolo met my eyes and nodded.
“We’ll be here for you,” Jake said, resolute.
My heart pounded approaching the screen door. As I trudged past the front facing window, Michael’s voice rang cold in my ears. “What do you want?”
I cleared my throat. “Michael, hey.”
Silence.
“I wanted to make sure you’re ok.”
“I’m fine.” His words were ice.
My neck tensed around my vocal cords.
A woman’s voice called from inside. “Michael, who are you talking to?”
“Just someone from swim, Mom.”
The door pulled open, and the screen door screeched when Michael appeared. He stepped outside.
Hands in his pockets, gaze lowered, “We–we can’t hang out.”
I gaped. I wanted to say it was ok, that I just wanted to help.
My voice permitted none of it.
I nodded and showed him the flip phone.
“New phone, huh?” Michael looked away. “I can’t call you.”
I squeaked. “It’s not.” I cleared my throat. “It’s not, it’s not mine.”
Michael turned back to me, inspecting my face, one brow lightly raised.
“It’s,” my voice broke. “It’s, uh, yours.”
Michael’s brows furrowed, his eyes darting back and forth between mine.
“I can’t–”
“Just take it.” I surprised myself.
His mouth opened.
“You don’t have to use it. If you don’t want, just please take it,” I said.
Michael studied me for several seconds and sighed.
I grabbed his hand and lay the phone in his palm.
His lips pursed, turning a weary look toward the inside of his house.
“It’s, uh.” I stammered again. “It’s on silent.”
Michael’s face twisted back to mine. It was blank.
“Even if someone calls,” I coughed. “It won’t make a sound.”
Michael’s shoulders relaxed. He nodded and turned towards the house again, the screen door squeaking closed, the door latch clicked and the bolt snapped through.
I released a deep breath.
Would he forgive me?
How I wish I could take it all back. I needed to take so many things back lately. He deserves better–not just from me–from everyone.
My steps tapped against the cracked sidewalk.
What if I promised, promised I would behave and give him space?
Would he use the phone?
I slid back into the front passenger seat, knowing all their eyes were on me. I forced a smile. “He took the phone.” I turned toward them.
Each of their faces softened.
On the way back, Jake peppered me with questions. I had no satisfying answers.
Clinging to the back of my seat, Paolo pulled himself close. “We didn’t have mobile phones like you boys.” His lips smiled, but his eyes didn’t. “Poor Jake, his mom and dad were Eban–Eban-yell-cal”
“Evangelicals,” Jake sighed and shook his head, “Yeah, let’s just say they weren’t very warm to people–people like us.”
In front of Keith’s house, Jake stopped, engine running. “It’s hard for Michael right now, but he has friends and a way to reach them. I would have given anything for that at his age.”
Paolo hugged me as we switched places. “He’ll be ok,” he whispered. “He’s stronger than you think.”
“Thanks.” We kissed one another’s cheeks. He held both sides of my face with his hands, but released me without saying a word.
“We’re just next door.” Jake offered as they rolled away.
Slithering snakes flashed in my brain. I shivered.
Stanley clapped my shoulder. “They can’t get you over here.”
“Why did you say that?” My jaw dropped. “Of course they can. Snakes escape from their–”
“Relax.” Stanley gave me a stern look. “You’re safe.”
***
In Keith’s room, we gave a very filtered version of what happened. He didn’t press us.
After a long silence. Keith huffed. “It sucks for Michael, but–.” He shook his head. “We have an away meet on Tuesday.”
Stanley and I glanced at each other.
Keith sighed, “I just really don’t want to lose to the Mustangs–again.”
***
Keith and I saw Stanley out with hugs.
Once I walked into his room, Keith closed the door behind me.
“I know things are complicated right now.” He looked me square in the eyes. “You’ve been a good friend. But I’ve worked too hard in the pool–for years–to have all this get in the way now.”
I nodded.
“We can’t have another night like we’ve been having. We need sleep. ”
I lowed my head, my eyes avoiding his.
Keith paused. I met his eyes again.
“Ah jeez, I’m not mad–not mad at you. We just need to get back to some kind of normal.”
I nodded.
He pursed his lips and cleared his throat. “So I think we should just get on with it.” Keith regarded me for a moment. “So you and I aren’t awake all night wondering if the other is gonna make a move.”
I turned away and tried to repress a grin.
“Yeah, yeah,” Keith mocked. “I’m a horned up teenager, so sue me.”
I chuckled and brimmed. My pants tightened.
Keith noticed, “Keep your shirt on,” he laughed. “Jesus.”
He retreated to his bed and sat, both legs over the edge. He slumped.
“If it’s cool with you, it’s only fair to tell you–.” He looked up.
My feet were heavy as concrete. I nodded, but stood frozen in place.
“That,” he gestured at my crotch. “I don’t think I can handle that–I’m not ok with that going in anywhere, huh inside.”
A new grin crossed my face. For once, his confidence failed him.
He cleared his throat. “I know it’s unfair.” Keith wiped his tongue over his lips. “We can each take turns jerking off–to porn or whatever–you know?”
I tried to reassure him with a squinting smile.
Just jerking off–separate? Hell no.
I looked at him. “Is that the only option?”
“Well–I guess–it doesn’t have to be.” Keith squirmed.
The clock ticked in the silence.
“Can I go down–down on you?”
Keith swallowed hard. “Only if you, uh, you want to.”
“If you’re good, I’m all in,” I said.
Keith gave me a look.
“Bad choice of, uh, words, maybe.” A chill crystalized in the room. I gulped. “Just, uh, get comfortable.”
“Can I, uh–cover my face with the pillow?” Keith’s voice was apologetic. Just before I responded, he raised a palm toward my face. “Only at first–at least?”
I smiled and nodded.
Keith, still in a white shirt and shorts, drew back into the bed. When his head landed on the pillow, he grabbed it and pinned it over his face.
In haste, he tried to pull the side of his shorts down with one hand. I helped him remove them and toss them aside.
He was ready to go, hard as rock.
Keith was willing, but the excitement level for me fell short of our first times.
My dick pained for release. I slipped my shorts off.
Keith grabbed tight on each side of the pillow and heaved a muffled yell when I climbed on the bed.
My face hovered over his cock. The heat of my breath to flowed over it. His legs tightened and twitched. I licked my lips and teased him with my tongue, gliding against his lean stomach, nearly touching his dick from above, then on each side. He yelled into this pillow.
I chuckled and moved to the lower end of the bed and gripped his legs, tugging him to the edge. He peeked from under the pillow. I knelt down and sucked lightly on his sack. Keith groaned, his legs relaxing. Mouth wide, I engulfed his whole sack, rolling his balls from side to side with my tongue.
With his scent drawn deep inside, my whole crotch ached. A drip of pre-cum dabbed against my thigh. I hummed and moaned.
I wanted it to last all night, but we had agreed to sleep.
My reluctant mouth let go, and I pushed Keith back higher toward the head of the bed.
In one motion, I licked the tip once and then swallowed his shaft to the base. He moaned.
Keith gushed pre-cum and his hips thrusted harder and harder, one hand pressing firm on the back of my head.
Then he stopped. I looked up. The pillow was off his face. He was looking down at me.
“Fuck it.” Keith blurted. “It’s too unfair.”
I lifted an eyebrow.
“It’s just too much–” He paused. “I don’t want to leave you out.”
“No, it’s fine, you don’t have to do–”
“Nah, I wa–I want to — I want to try.” Keith looked straight at me, and lifted his chin.
I crawled up the bed, and rolled to my back.
Keith sat cross-legged between my wide open crotch. He lingered on it, the seconds stretching into minutes.
“It’s o–” I started.
“No, I can do this, I want–. I’m, uh, I’m a team player.”
He grabbed my shaft and lifted it slowly toward his face. A bit of lingering disgust on his face.
Sticking out his tongue, Keith closed his eyes and leaned forward. He winced when he made contact and wet his lips. He leaned forward again, but lingered on the tip. Lips puckered, he sucked lightly. A tingling wave rushed over my body. I covered my mouth and closed my eyes.
“Hey.” Keith whispered.
I opened one eye.
“I want to hear when you like what I’m doing.”
I lifted my hand from my face.
His lips returned. He slid down my shaft until I hit the back of his throat. He gagged. The sheen of his spit glistened about an inch past the head of my cock.
“We can sto–”
Keith shook his head and stared down at my cock like it was some kind of challenge. He licked the palm of each of his hands and clasped one above the other and stroked. With a slight twist and pumping stokes, my breath hastened. He took as much as he could of the head into his mouth, sucking and licking.
I whimpered, clinging to the bedsheets. Keith’s face was red, his neck veins popping. Every muscle employed to work my cock. I would not last long. He was yanking me over the edge.
“Oh god, Keith, I’m gonna–”
His face retreated with a pop, he continued to pump with his hands. I erupted, body jerking and bucking, ribbons of come slicked my lips, neck, chest, and stomach pooling in the creases between my muscles.
A gasp strained through my throat. “Fuck.”
After several heavy breaths, Keith lobbed a bath towel at me. I smiled and stood, wiping myself from head to toe. “Wow.” My breath labored. “You have no business being so good at that.” I grinned.
Keith punch me in the shoulder. “Shut up.”
I chuckled. “Hey.” My eyes darted to his raging hard on, purple and covered in veins.
I dropped to my knees and sucked anew, bobbing, with each downward motion taking another inch. Keith quivered, his hands behind my head. He was losing it. He was jamming it down my throat so hard, my eyes watered. I didn’t want him to stop.
I grabbed both his ass cheeks with each hand, guiding his thrusts. He growled and smashed my nose into his happy, pumping me full of jizz. He was so deep I barely had to swallow. Each release streaming into me.
Keith fell backwards on to his bed. “Shit man, fuck!” He caught a few breaths. “I’m gonna sleep so fucking good tonight.”
Chapter 13
Monday:
A wine at the door rouses me. I squinted at the bright hall light. Keith and his swim bag silhouetted in the door frame. “See you after practice, buddy; back at 7.”
My head hits the pillow, and I must have passed out right away because the door wines open again and Keith is back.
“Get ready, Bret.”
I blink at him, my vision blurry.
“I have A-hour and I’m taking you to class. Didn’t I tell you that?”
“No.”
Keith opened and slammed closed metal drawers and threw clothes at my face. “Put these on.”
I yawned, “Why can’t Stanley take me?”
Thunder rattles the windows, and raindrops pat on the glass.
“He went straight to a student council meeting.”
I rubbed my eyes and fiddle with the clothes. “Did you swim in this storm?”
“Bret, hurry.”
Keith stomped over and helps me with my shirt and pants. He pauses for a moment and pats my groin. “Let’s go.”
I grab the rest of my stuff and trot out with him.
Keith zoomed down the road, tall waves crest to the side of the truck’s tires. My phone vibrated; the number seemed familiar, but if it’s someone I know, why didn’t it show a name?
“Hello.”
The line is quiet for a moment, then a whisper from the other end, “Bret?”
“Michael, hey, yeah, it’s Bret–what’s, uh, what’s going on? Are you ok?”
Bret’s voice was thin. “My mom left in our van. I don’t have a way to school.”
“Just a sec, Michael.”
I move my phone from my mouth and cover the mic with my hand, and turn to Keith. “Do we have time to pick up Michael?”
Keith glanced at me, brows furrowed. “No. I’ll be lucky not to get swept as it is.”
I gave Keith a pleading look and pull the phone to my face, “Michael, anyone else you could, uh, call? Someone from your, uh, church or something?”
Silence loomed at the other end. Keith parked.
“Maybe.” Michael’s voice broke. “But uh, they’ll want to know what’s going on.” He stifled a sob. “What am I going to tell them?”
I called out to Keith, whose quick steps slapped against growing puddles. “We need to help him, Keith. Please?”
Keith turned his head and ran back. He slapped his keys to the F150 in my hands. “Don’t fucking wreck it.”
I nodded, and a shiver bolted up my spine.
An ‘A’ in driver’s ED was one thing, but I didn’t even have a permit.
I speak into the phone. “Get ready. I’m on my way.” I hang up.
I clicked the key in the hole; the dash repeated a tone. I take a deep breath and twist the key. The engine revs.
“Ok, ok, ok, ok.” I shift into reverse and let off the break. The truck rolls and I slam the brake, more rolling and I slam it again. “Breathe, it’s ok. You can do this.” I fiddle with the windshield wipers and crank them to the fastest setting.
I pull out and turn toward the street.
The aspired to the speed limit, but my heart raced when I drove above 30. Cars zipped past me, honking and flipping me off.
The brakes squeaked in front of Michael’s house. I squinted toward the front door.
The front door swung open, Michael turns to lock it. I stretch across the console and open the door for him.
Sheepish, he glanced at me, “Thank you.” He stared down.
When I started driving, he searches for the seat belt and clicks it.
“Never seen you drive before.” Michael fanes a laugh.
“Shut up.” I turned to smile and catch the start of a grin.
We’re silent on the way back. I’m focused on driving in the rain.
With twenty minutes to first period, I parked in the most remote spot.
The gear stick drummed against the console with the shifts to the park. The splashing of rain gushed against the windows. Silence sat heavy the cabin.
I ventured. “I’m glad, uh, that, huh, you’re coming to the meet.”
Michael didn’t respond, and a few more empty seconds passed.
“Stanley told me the Mustangs have beat us two out of the, uh, three years.” I glance over at him. “He really wants to win this year, his, uh, senior year–this year.”
I caught myself rambling and pause.
“Uh, do you know what events you’re swimming at the meet?” I let the question linger.
“500 Free,” Michael said.
I winced. “Ouch.”
“You?”
“100 Breast–Ironic, I know.” I chuckled.
He hid a grin.
Another painful silence stretched.
“Listen, I know I, uh, you know, I fucked up.” I bit my lip. I’ve said the wrong thing. “It wasn’t fair–to you.”
I waited for any kind of response, but grew anxious.
“If you, uh, don’t want to have,” I cleared my throat. “Anything to do with me, I would understand.”
I waited again.
Michael coughed. “There’s a lot going on.” His voice trembled.
I nodded.
“My mom and David–David’s arrest. Everything’s screwed up.” He turned to me. “You know?”
I patted him on the shoulder.
Tears welled up in Michael’s eyes as he blew out a long exhale. “Let’s go.”
***
Outside of Keith’s class, I wait for the bell to ring. The halls fill with students and Keith darts out.
“Keith!”
“Oh, hey buddy.” He furloughed his brow. “Did you wreck my truck?”
“No.” I smiled. “I picked him up.”
“Cool.” Keith nodded. “I was worried coach wouldn’t let me swim if he missed today.”
“Is that why you let me–”
“No, shut up.” Keith tried to hide a sly grin. “Well, it wasn’t the only reason.”
“Sure, yeah.”
“Maybe we can beat the Mustangs this year… if you guys score some points.”
“Asshole!” I nut checked him.
Keith doubled over. “Fuck!”
I snapped serious, placing my hand on his shoulder and staring into his warm, golden-brown eyes. “He can’t go back there.” I burrowed into Keith with my gaze.
Keith pursed his lips and drew his eyebrows close to each other. He sighed. “I’ll talk to my mom.”
I tugged the sides of my lips with my cheeks. “Thank you.”
***
On the way to practice, I lagged and joined Keith. “Well?”
“I called my mom, and she’s ok with it, for now.” He looked away and licks his lips. “She said he should stay in my room if I stay at Stanley’s.”
“You ok with that?”
“It’s only for a bit,” he turned back to me and smiled.
We all shower, change into our suits, and prep for practice. While the team stretched on the pool deck, the coach barked reminders about the coming-day’s away meet. Permission slips were due before we got on the bus.
I still hadn’t heard from or seen my dad.
I caught Stanley’s attention.
He mouths, “I got you.” And gave me a wink.
The team lined up behind their lanes, bouncing on the deck and swing their arms.
Keith turned to the group and gestures for their attention. “Team, with our first away meet tomorrow, I’d like to remind everyone about Pasta night, right after practice!”
A group of seniors chanted together, their hands framing their mouths, “Pasta, pasta makes you got fast-a–”
***
After practice, Keith, Michael and I rode in Keith’s truck through the flooded streets. The thunder cracked. The clouds were still angry gray, but the rain stopped.
At a stoplight, Keith leaned forward, squinting toward the sky. “Man, I sure hope this doesn’t keep us from going tomorrow.”
Keith gestured at Michael and smiled. “You’ve never been to my place.”
Michael met Keith’s eyes and shook his head.
“There’re lots of kids–but probably no more than your place.”
Keith waited for a laugh, but we continued our awkward silence.
“Mom and the Dads throw a pasta party for almost every away meet. Since–well, since I was a freshman,” Keith said.
My mind wondered to a yearbook photo I saw of Keith from that year.
I scanned Keith from head to toe. I shivered, licked my lips and grinned, wanting another good night’s sleep.
As we swung around in front of Keith’s house. Paolo scampered across the front yard, wearing a thin wife-beater and short blue shorts while clutching a huge ceramic pot. He popped with muscles and veins.
Never had I been so deep in someone. He wasn’t determined to take all of my cock as some kind of challenge. He begged me for it.
I bit my lower lip, closed my eyes, and shivered.
***
Two bowls full of veggie spaghetti slid down my throat before the last of the team showed up.
The kitchen buzzed with chatter, laughter, and the clink of dinnerware. Most of the boys were shirtless, the girls wore short shorts over their one and two-piece suits.
Where’s Michael?
After I combed the room, I opened the door to the backyard. The smell of chlorine hit. I turned to the gated pool. Michael hunched over the edge, legs kicking lightly under the surface, hands pressed against the deck beside his hips.
With the screech of the gate, Michael jumped. His face spun to me. When he registered me, he turned back to the water. I sat at a friendly distance next to him. I settled close enough to hang out without raising suspicion.
Each heart beat got louder in the silence. I had no words. Maybe there was nothing to say. Anything about his stepdad would only make things worse.
Michael would find out eventually. I promised Paolo I’d testify.
Jesus, that’d be the worst way to find out. I hope he doesn’t come to the trial.
I took a deep, quiet breath, and the silence loosened its hold on my mind. Sitting there next to Michael, each in our own thoughts. Maybe he already knew. What else could he get this hands on, just through his computer? There must be a record of my name connected to this case somewhere.
***
With a full belly after a tough practice, my eyelids were heavy as I sat in the cab of Keith’s truck, behind Stan. The conversation in the front jolted me awake when Stanley shrieked and punched Keith in the shoulder.
Keith shooshed him.
We’d parked in the Dad’s spot in the gated lot under their condo complex. I did not know how long we’d been there, but I pretended to still be asleep.
Stan continued in a loud whisper. “You just refused to play on easy mode, don’t you?”
A silence stretched.
Stanley wrapped his fingers on the dash. “Well? How was it?”
Keith cleared his throat and answered with a breathy whisper. “Well, it was hard.”
“One would hope.” Stanley punched Keith again.
“Fuck!” Keith yelped. “That fucking hurt.”
Stanley mocked. “It was hard–And water’s wet. No shit–how was it?”
“It was a lot.”
“Yes, it is.” Stanley’s tone was getting impatient.
“I don’t know.” Keith said. “It was ok, I think I’d have been more comfortable if he was more like me?”
“Infuriatingly hot and sexy?”
Keith chuckled. “Shut up. No, more like, you know, closer to my size.”
“Plenty of those out there.” Stanley giggled. “But it sounds like you were–uh–more or less ok with it.”
Keith hemmed and hawed. “I mean, I guess.”
I cracked one eye. A grin crept over Keith’s face, looking at Stanley.
With a head tilt, Stan pursed his lips. “Yes?”
They still didn’t seem to notice I was awake.
“The next morning I tried…” Keith looked away, face reddening.
“You tried?” Stan prodded.
“I tried to, huh” Keith giggled and scratched at his neck. “Do it on myself.”
Stan laughed. “Everyone’s tried at least once.” He put a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “You’re flexible, but not that flexible.”
Their eyes glanced at me. I closed my eye.
“He probably can,” Keith said. “Wouldn’t take near as much flexibility.”
“Yeah, I don’t know,” Stanley said. “Even if he can, it’s still not as comfortable as someone else doing it.”
I popped an eye open again.
Keith gaped. “Are you saying–”
Stanley broke into a wide smile. “I’m telling you, it isn’t as good. You can’t get the right angle–your back aches–it’s hard to breathe.” He tilted his head forward, looking at Keith’s lap. “Someone’s getting happy.”
Stanley turned to me, and to sealed my eye closed again.
“Bret.” Stanley patted my face.
I pretended to wake up. “What?” I rubbed my eyes. “What’s happening?”
“Come on.” They said in unison.
In the condo, the three of us soaked in the massive free-standing tub. Stanley luffa-ed me, while I did the same for Keith. We started on the back, but set aside the luffa and slowly massaged the chest, torso, and groin.
Keith leaned back when I clasped his dick and pumped it a bit. My hard-on pressed against his muscular, trim lats.
Stanley stood. The soap-filmed water rushed off his chiseled body, revealing his own hard cock. He pointed at us. “You two, bed.”