A gay sex stories: Geoff and Chet Ch. 27
Chapter 27 The Miami Race and Conclusion
Author’s note: This chapter concludes the story (00-27). As previously noted Ch 14 was posted in error (it is a dup of Ch 15). The correct 14 will be posted as 28 and marked as such. All chapters were published in Gay Male except 19 which was published in Anal. My apologies for the posting errors—I take full responsibility. I personally think 00 and 19 have the hottest scenes—but perhaps it was mis-posted, 10 got no comments and a low satisfaction score. All characters portrayed at over 18. All places and persons are fictional. Copyright 2023, all rights reserved. BD
Chet’s POV
We left to return to Houston on Saturday morning, ostensibly to avoid Sunday traffic. But, Matt was hosting a large party that night at the ranch and we didn’t need to chaperone or have any desire to witness. We were pleased to be “home” and spent the day “relaxing” although we returned to our workout and riding routines immediately.
With practice and classes winding down, time went quickly for me. Geoff was starting a new cohort of classes, some of which were elective this time, which increased his interest level, but didn’t reduce his commitments which remained about the same. It was gratifying to see how comfortable our life together had become. My fears that we might be incompatible roommates were unfounded. We actually became mutually dependent, enjoying the emotional support of having someone to talk to (a partner), the occasional massages after workouts, laps or cycling events, and of course the “on tap” sex. Geoff managed to curb his dom tendencies—except of course when that is exactly what I wanted. And we moved into a pattern of shared topping. Geoff actually began to crave my special talents at bringing him to an intense, long finish which totally drained him. I learned to cook a few things, but takeout and/or delivery were still the mainstays of our respective diets. Fortunately, Geoff had the medical school cafeteria for lunch and I had the jock cafeteria for most of my mid-day meals so we were guaranteed nutritional choices. Breakfast was always a protein shake—occasionally supplemented with “something special” delivered between the sheets.
With only two meets left in the fall season, the coaches carefully studied the team and individual standings to determine optimal results. The statistics gurus were in nerd heaven. RCC was obviously in first place and would likely stay there absent a catastrophe coupled with a spectacular performance by either UMiami or Dallas, but the individual championship was very much still in competition.
I noticed that as of that point, the team’s two worst performances were both on occasions when Reg had won the race as an individual and the SCC rules were unclear. So we asked for a ruling: If a team drops a meet (any team can drop one or two meets provided eight meets remained in the average), does the individual from that team who won the dropped race lose credit for that win? If so, both of Reg’s wins might be dropped—and he might not make it into the top three individual performances. By the time we were ready to leave for Orlando, no answer had been received. So, I wanted the Orlando race to be spectacular and for Reg to have an outstanding performance—to be sure he held on to his individual honor position. We could talk about Miami later.
We flew off to Orlando about two weeks later for the meet. It was hosted by UCF, but UMiami, and Dallas planned to race. So three of the four contenders were still in the running for top SCC honors—and two os us flew in. The early December day was perfect Central Florida weather—dry, sunny and just a little cool. The course had been laid out east of Orlando, in the lake country and away from the notorious traffic surrounding the entertainment meccas of Disney, Universal and others. It was fairly flat, often alongside peaceful rivers or pastureland. UCF chose a “free for all” start so we drew lots for post position. RCC got lucky and we had the prime inside slot. Thus, our strategy—with a small twist, would be one we had used before: a fast start, commanding lead and defense until the sprints. The twist this time rested on the fact that Jean Marc was back. He was a superb cyclist and very fast. He would take point first and set a blinding speed, to be relieved by Chet and then Reg—preserving Reg’s energy for the sprint. Because of his short season, and given his incredible team spirit, Jean Marc was prepared to sacrifice.
The strategy worked. We won with the best time of the year so far, as a team. I posted my second best time, but Reg edged me in the sprints for overall honors in that race. My best time (from an earlier race) remained the top and remained a national record.
And my average kept me in first. The Dallas captain edged out Chet for the show position. We were really pleased, but given the holiday season, few RCC fans had followed us to Orlando. We had a short victory lunch and headed for the plane back to Houston—to celebrate with our friends back home. Nine races down. We were undefeated. And I had the top position in the individual ranking. Reg was third. Chet, fourth. I did notice that Chet sat with Janet on the trip home—but it was perhaps the accident of how airline seats were allocated.
The last two weeks before Christmas break were hectic beyond belief for me. I only saw Geoff naked in bed (which wasn’t the worst fate in the world). Fortunately, my Rice course exams were a piece of cake. The NASD exams were the third Saturday in December. They were an entire day, reflecting far more questions relating to ethical issues and dilemmas that I would have expected. My financial background was barely tested. But, I think I did fine. Results would be published on line in early January. I flew out to John Wayne Airport for the meetings in Orange County with the franchises that very Sunday just about a week before Christmas. Reg went out at the same time, but since he already had an agent, his arrangements were all made for him and he wasn’t on the same plane or in the same hotel.
The meetings were mostly parties and celebrations. Photographers. Publicists. Agents, introducing themselves. Fancy cocktails, fancier restaurants. Opportunities to meet cycling stars. We were treated as celebrities. There were six of us there, but Reg was clearly a standout. I was never quite sure whether the hype was for all of us or whether Reg’s agent had amp-ed up the situation. He was obviously planning a major product endorsement launch. Representatives for YSL and FILA were both ever-present by his side. Perhaps he was going to dump CK for a French connection?
I was a favorite: good looking (I learned I was very photogenic in that preppy Anglo clean cut style popular with the younger target groupies that had been identified by the ad agencies), well-spoken, obviously well and liberally educated, capable of being a spokesperson, possibly a star endorser. (I was fed all of this as a steady diet. I didn’t need Geoff to stroke my ego, at least.) We were surrounded all the time by groups of beautiful young “Valley girls”—but because we were never paired with just one, there was no awkwardness that I could detect. In fact, it was all pretty asexual, but with a heavy suggestive sexual undertone.