Date: Thu, 30 Mar 2006 07:40:11 -0600
From: Lance Davids <norskebjorn@hotmail.com>
Subject: Life-of-Lance-1

[Into the Life (Spring 1968) tells how I am willingly recruited into gaydom
and suffer my first major crush.  As are all the stories in the series, this
part is fiction, imagined from life incidents but not actual in the details
and persons.]

I go by Lance, not that I named myself, but born Laurence Andrew Davidson in
western Minnesota, I later chose to go by Lance Davids.  The parents were
killed in an auto accident when I was two, and I was farmed around to
various family members.  Mostly those who raised me were in the boonies of
Alaska where I went to school on the radio and by 'home schooling.'  More
than being raised, I worked for them.  Almost 18, I said, 'To hell with this
shit, I'm going back to Minnesota,' without any real memory of it.

Finished my last months of high school in small town west central Minnesota,
where I came under the wing of Mr. Markus, the p.e. teacher, civics teacher
and coach.  Being raised in a lot of isolation, I'd never been in team
sports, but I knew how to work, and he needed a basketball team manager.  We
did well for the season, but bombed in the regionals.  Nevertheless, as a
reward, the town raised the money for us to attend the tournaments that
March '68.

Somehow, I drew Mr. Markus for a roommate.  Glenn Markus, four years out
from college, was athletic himself, exercised with his classes and teams,
and looked really magnificent.  Though I was the lowly manager - read gofer
- he made me workout with the team.  That was good 'cause these studs
treated me as their teammate and no flunky.  Because we sweated together, we
showered together, coach too.  This was my first gander at other boys in the
flesh, and I have to say it made my heart pound.  From then on when I beat
off bedtime and morning, I did to fantasies of Doug, Mike, Gordo, and the
rest.  Mr. Markus, too.

I suppose all pubescent guys in the locker room start comparing themselves
to their fellows; but at just past 17-1/2 years, it was a totally new
experience for me.  Mostly, I liked that I had hair down the sternum, though
light colored and not too visible, when many had none.  I had definition,
too, thanks to the natural exercise of hauling fishnets and crab cages,
lifting boxes, and clearing mountains of snow.  At that time, I also hustled
boxes and grocery bags at the local supermarket where I worked to pay for my
room and board.  I considered my legs my best asset from a lot of hiking,
skating and cross country running and skiing.  That friend between my legs,
Herr Dusenflinger, seemed pitifully ordinary to me, especially when compared
to Gordo, a Dakota brave, for whom I had serious lust.  I just about creamed
my gym shorts when Coach Markus paired Gordo and me for wrestling.

But when Coach came into the showers, usually after we were all in, he
didn't hide anything as some guys did, cupping themselves.  He was bold, his
considerable bull pizzle and sac of billiard balls out there.  Later, I
realized he wanked himself up for the show before he put in an appearance.
He was a built, heavily thatched guy with thick, dark swaths of hair from
his ankles to his shaved neckline; the stuff swarmed out of his ass crack in
silky waves.  So when he entered the shower, taking command by his position,
likeability, and seniority, a hush came over the class or team as everyone
fell silent either from awe or embarrassment.  They never got used to so
much testosterone on display.  Most of the guys beat a retreat as Coach
lathered and turned and turned under the spray.  I stayed to see him at all
angles, until I thought I, too, should pick up my towel and dry off.

So Glenn-baby and I were to spend the three nights at tournament in the same
seedy, stale smoke-smelling motel.  My luggage in those days was a
two-handled shopping bag from the supermarket, and when I carried the thing
into the motel upon arrival, my heart flipped.  The room had a single bed.
From three to four years of beating off every night of the week, I was sure
my prod would rise of its own accord, and I had no clue how to keep it
quiet.  Half the day would go by occupied with a tour of the Capitol,
Historical Society and Ramsey County Court House, a chow down at Mikey's
diner when we filled the place, and the preliminary games.  Still, I never
stopped fretting in my mind about my rambunctious wankman down there and how
it would turn me into a fool.

The dreaded evening hour came, and we were in the room.  Coach had turned up
the heat and started to undress.  'You need some privacy, Davidson?'

'No Coach.  Are we going right to bed?'

'In a minute.  You bring pajamas or just your underwear?'

Pajamas!  I'd never had a pair since I was in the crib.  'Long johns in the
winter, Sir.'

'I sleep nude,' he said, pulling off his jockeys.  Though I'd seen him a
hundred times in the shower, I had to look again as he busied himself with
the bed.  He fluffed up the pillows and sat up against the pillows,
stretched out on top of the covers.  He crossed his legs at the ankles, a
posture that plopped up his equipment.  Somehow, this posing was different
from all the times he'd shown himself before.  Wasn't it?  'For Cris' sakes,
sit down, Davidson.  It's time to relax.'

I realized how foolish I must look to him, standing dressed and gaping at my
teacher in full nude display.  Quickly, I shucked to my jockey johns and sat
against the pillows at the bed's edge opposite, a safe space between us.

I'd been near Coach a lot, but never detected tobacco on him.  However, he
proceeded to light up, and I could smell it wasn't a cigarette.  He took a
couple hits and passed it to me.  'Just inhale and hold it in your lungs a
bit.'  I did and coughed.

'That's all right, Davidson, you'll get used to it.'  He reached over to me,
caressing my shoulder.  'Come here; you seem glum.  I'd like to cheer you
up.'

'I'm not sure I should.'

'Why, what do you think is going to happen?'

'I don't know,' I said, and took another shallow toke to steady my nerves
when he offered it.

'What do you think is going on in the other rooms?' he asked, going along
another tack.

'Sir?'  What did he mean?

'Do you think any of the guys are getting it on with one another?'

'Sir?'  Why would I think that?

'What about Doug and Gordo or Gordo and Mike or all three of them together.
They're in the same room in a bed this big.  Would you feel better if one of
them were in with us?'

'No, sir, this is fine.'  That was the first bit of truth; I didn't want one
of the team finding out, laughing, and spreading my being queer around at
school.

'Well, good; it's fine with me too.'

The air was blue with the funny smoke as Coach finished off the roach, and
stretched.  His arm landed behind my back and began massaging.  'You ever
been friendly with any of the boys I mentioned?  Gordo for instance?'

'Gordo and I are chemistry partners,' I protested.

'He's got great potential if he takes advantage of it, and he'll get a free
ride to college on an Indian scholarship.  Will you go with him.'

'Sir, Gordo and I are not together, if you know what I mean.'  Though I
wished we were.

'Yeah, I know.  I just thought you had the hots for him.  I've seen you
together in the clinch.'

'Nothing like that, Sir.'  Hots, yes; together, that's what I wanted.

'Cris' sake, Davidson, call me Coach, even Glenn when were alone.  Never
call me Teach, and you can drop the Sir.  We're in bed together, have shared
a joint, and I'm as naked as the day I was born.  I thought I'd be
attractive to you.'

'Okay, Coach.'  I swallowed.  'I have to say you are an attractive guy; you
could be a model in a magazine.'

He laughed.  'A clothes horse or as I am.'  'Either way, Coach.'

He dropped his massaging hand to my waistline, his fingers slipping below
the elastic.  His voice, whether from the marijuana or the sex-charged
situation took on a huskier town.  'Don't you want to show me what you've
got.'

'It's ordinary, Coach.'  'Hmm, let me be the judge of that.'

Before I could say, 'Get your frigging hand off of my ass,' he had my
grundables off and was pulling me from across the bed to stand before the
room's full-length mirror.  Except that we were ten or so years apart in age
and he therefore mature while I was maturing, we were much the same in
overall height and musculature.  Much to my surprise when looking at us side
by side in the mirror, my hardening dozer was not much less of a member than
his joyboy.

He turned to me, turning me to him, running his hands over my back and
clamping onto my buttocks.  'You're one hunk, Lance Davidson, and I want
you.  Say you want me, too.'

'Glenn, I want you.'  He'd given me a way to break out of my hesitation with
a filled in response.  'I've wanted you for a long time.'  That means I
fantasized about his hard, hairy body when I jacked off.

'Then let's get down to business,' he said, falling on me across the bed,
deep kissing and working his tongue over me as we begin to make out.

That night we didn't go much father than, kissing, cuddling and cock
sucking.  He gave the most luscious head, beyond my wildest imagination, as
he flooded my enraged shaft with his ceaseless tongue, massaging lips and
pulsating gobble all awash in the unending stream of his warm saliva.  I
thrust my hips to meet his sucks and felt myself exploding.

'I'm cumming,' I felt the necessity to warn.

'Umph,' he managed to answer, his head stroking on my throbbing cock faster
and harder.

I shot and shot down his gorge, trembling and reeling from the orgasm that
surpassed all those years of pounding my own meat.  He came up on me then
and I parted my lips to receive his deep kiss, only to have the fluid mix of
my gizz and his spit pour into my mouth, hot, tangy and so wet with both our
juices.  Then we kissed through the bath with our tongues slurping as we
swallowed and thrust them over and around one another as though we could
enter each other.

Glenn withdrew to light another joint while I lay there momentarily out of
my senses.  He resumed his earlier sit-up position, reached over and slapped
my butt, jolting me to consciousness.  'Wake up!  There's mine to do.'  I
went down between his legs, imitating what had been demonstrated to me while
he, his eyes half lidded, inhaled cannabis and seemed to enter another
world.  No doubt he was bigger than me, but he felt huge.  Fortunately,  I
could sense from his moans and squirming that I was on the mark.  He held my
head on his thick thrusting hammer and bucked his load of hot mustard sap
from the back of my throat to gates of by teeth.

'Aaah, Lance.'  He let go of my head.  'You are now a Markus-approved
A-number-one cock-sucker.  Congratulations.'

'Thanks, Coach.'  He gave me the roach to finish off.

'Meet in the morning,' he said, yawning.

We got under the covers and fell asleep, a deep sleep, perhaps not of the
innocent, but of the exhausted.  Next morning was more harried.

'Get up, you cock-sucker,' Coach called, shaking me awake.  'We've
overslept, and we have to get on schedule.'  He trundled me off to the
shower and stepped in behind before I could fully come to consciousness.  He
began, 'I thought we could do a little replay this morning, but forgot to
set the alarm.  Well, Lance, my buddy-boy, there's always tonight.  Is that
okay with you?'

'Sure, Glenn.'  What could I say?  He soaped me and pressed his piss hard
sausage works against my ass, turned me, kissed me seriously with the water
coursing over us, his arms engulfing me, standing in the hot stream cock to
cock.

'Later, then.'  He smacked me on the butt, and I was dismissed while he
finished up.

He sent me next door to the room where Doug, Mike and Gordo were assigned.
Mike let me in; they were all dressed and waiting though the room and
especially the king-sized bed looked a shambles.

'How was it?' Mike asked.

'Huh?' I played dumb.

'Come on, Lance.  We know, Coach probably fucked your brains out.'

'He did not!' I protested indignantly.

'Sure, sure,' Doug joined in.  The three of them gathered in front me.

'Take it easy on Lance, you guys,' Gordo said.  'What if Lance is still a
virgin?'

'Doubt that,' Doug said.

I began to fret.  'Is this what the whole team thinks?'

'Hey, Lance, don't worry,' Gordo cheered, 'as far as anybody else knows, you
bunked with us last night.'

'What?'  I was dumbfounded.

'This is how Coach sets things up,' Doug said; 'you might as well know,
we've all been there.'

They heard me breath a sigh of relief.

'So how was it?' Mike returned.

I looked at the three of them and smiled.  'It was all right.'

'All right?' Doug countered; 'were you bedded with the same Coach Markus
we've all come to love and appreciate?'

'Let's just say, he wants me back.'

Doug took the lead, 'Well all right, buddy; we believe you.'  He stretched
out his arms and we went into an automatic huddle for a few seconds.  'Now,
the four of us are best friends,' Doug intoned.

'Forever,' they all responded.

'Forever,' I repeated half a second later.  I'd never been in a situation
before where I shared a personal secret with other guys.  Even if it was a
dirty secret, sharing it with this trio felt powerful.

We went to the neighboring Happy Chef together where the team was gathering
for breakfast, twenty-eight guys in all.  Coach came in when all were
settled, smelling of old spice.  He must have shaved after I left but his
heavy beard already showed his five o'clock shadow, macho man that he was.
He made the rounds, joshing with the guys, checking that everything was all
right with them, that they'd had a good night, and so on.  How normal!

I thought all day about what I'd done with Coach Markus, that I was now a
bona fide queer, not just one of my own imagining.  I'd sucked cock with my
teacher, for God's sake.  I finally came to the conclusion that, Well, okay,
I'm homo by design, and now I know I really am in fact; besides, I'm in good
company.  When I'd figured that out, I began to wonder about the oncoming
evening, and what Coach had in mind for step two.  Finally I gave my
attention to the semi-final games that were close scoring and fast paced.
That action took my mind off things more intensely personal than basketball.

Back to our room, Markus did his routine, turning up the heat and taking his
clothes off.  This time he was in no hurry, taking the trouble to hang up
his khakis and jacket.  I followed along, and we stood on the opposite sides
of the bed.  He lit two joints, both in his mouth at once, and I began to
wonder about getting that high on a whole reefer.  A knock on the door just
about made me jump out of my skin, but Coach went to open it, buck naked as
he was.

'Hi, Coach; hi, Lance.'  It was Gordo.  What a relief, though I felt strange
standing nude in front of him as he gave me a quick once over.  But he was
quick out of his jeans and all, and I enjoyed the revelation of his glowing
coppery skin as he peeled out of his clothes.  Different from us, he was
seemingly smooth except for a head of incredibly thick, shiny black hair and
his lush bush above that impressive tube, full-looking even though arcing
down at this point.

I remembered the day he'd had a spontaneous erection in the locker room.  I
guess that's what got me going on him.  He'd tried to hide it with his
towel, but that just hooded out in front of him.  He laughed good naturedly,
and all the guys around laughed along with him.  Not me; I was awe struck.

Coach got in the middle on top of the bed and we sat up close to him on
either side.  He began sharing the two joints between us, getting twice the
drug than either of us, though I believe Gordo inhaled deeper than I had
learned.  He'd done it before.

When each of us were on the toke and Coach's hands were free, he'd stroke
us, down our chests, abdomen's and flex our cocks, cup and caress our balls.
With roaches out, he began kissing and tonguing us in turn, placing our
hands on his nipples erect through the chest hair, on his well-muscled
thighs between his legs, and on his back.  Gordo and I got into a rhythm of
coursing his body up and down as though we worshipped him, which in a sense
we did.  He settled back and began jacking us.  I felt lucky to be on his
right-handed side, but he was likely just as practiced with his left.

We leaned over to tongue and suck at his nips.  Suddenly our eyes caught,
and Gordo reach over to draw my head to his lips.  We kissed, hot and
lovingly.  Heaven!  I had to tell myself this really happened, Gordo the
primitive of my fantasies was going to be mine for real.

Without a word, Coach got out of the way, up out of bed and sat at a chair
opposite.  We both looked at him, and he said.  'Go to it, boys; it's all
yours.'  Gordo and I looked at one another, smiled and began devouring one
another in the hottest of make out sessions I ever imagined.  We took our
time, but with heavy attention, hot lips, salivating tongues, roaming hands
and clashing cocks, grinding against one another in a full body press head
to toe.  Gordo explored my buttocks and ass and I reciprocated, glad that he
was a little more experienced than I.  He turned on me and we 69d for a good
half-hour.  From time to time, I pulled away from Gordo's musky pube and
looked up at Coach, who had another joint and slowly stroked his manifest
manhood while looking back dead-on at our cavorting combo.

Finished with the maryjane, Markus-man crossed to his luggage and retrieved
a tube of something and came around behind me.  Amazingly, he licked around
my buttocks until his tongue was at my asshole.  Holy shit, I thought, he's
going to fuck me.  His ministrations proved warm and exciting, and I relaxed
as to what was to come.  A finger eased greasily around my pucker and then
in me as I flexed my shitter on it.  That tube with goup was to get me
ready.  What an idea!  My ass went towards it as if of its own accord,
wanting the fuck now, wanting it all the more.  I felt hot and smarmy all
over, hornier than I'd ever felt before.  If I wasn't fucked now, I'd just
as soon not wake up in the morning.

Coach grabbed my ankles and pulled me to the foot of the bed.  He raised
both legs pulling them apart in a great V-shape still holding me at the
ankles.  Then in that husky voice, 'Okay, Gordo, climb aboard; he's all
yours.'  It was Gordo that was going to do me.

'Thanks, Coach,' he said, getting up to come between Coach and me, leaning
over me with the heartiest of deep kisses.  'Lance-buddy, I hope you've been
waiting for this big one.'

'Give it to me, Gordo, clobber me, you sex-crazed Dakota brave.'

Gordo positioned himself and eased in.  Coach placed my legs over my partner
so that the sockets of my knees rested on his shoulders.  My ass was upended
under this Crazy Horse as Gordo began, a piston within me.  He knew how to
move his considerable battleaxe in long, sensational strokes while looking
provocatively at me in no holds barred lust.  I began to tingle all over my
buttocks, the itch seeming to spread like a buzz of fireflies throughout me.

Coach came around and pulled out my cock from Gordo's overhanging
midsection, licking the exposed glans, humming as he tongued.  He moved his
whole mouth over me with his flow of bigboy-loving fluid.  I wanted to let
myself go while remaining conscious of every sensation these two main guys
in my life were working in me.  I heard myself moaning, 'Don't stop; don't
stop.  God in thunder, don't stop.'

My ecstasy went on for some indeterminate time until, suddenly, I realized
Coach had stopped mouthing me.  Instead, he stroked me with his slippery,
lubed left while standing behind Gordo.  I realized he was also working his
right hand, fingering my fuck-buddy with goo, preparing him.  Then Coach,
the master of this fuck, leaned into Gordo and began the motion on him.
Gordo winced momentarily, I saw, but went on without missing a beat, only he
was picking up speed ramming me as he was bucking the master butt-buster
behind him.

The cannabis smoke, man sweat and sexy male mustiness saturated the room's
heated air; the combination intoxicated me.  I imagined myself hovering
above this three-way, watching us hunky trio in action.  Who needed an
overhead mirror?  Then, oh, God, Coach was sucking my toes, hung over
Gordo's back.  I was on fire.  'Fuck me,' I heard myself shout, 'fuck me,
you guys.  I want to be fucked like this till I die.'  Gordo was hitting
something inside me, enflaming me with an electrifying current that
ricocheted throughout my entire nervous system.  The prickly heat was
mounting in me and I knew I was going to explode.  I thought, I hope I
survive.  Forget this shit about dieing; this is what it's like to live as a
gay guy.  We panted and moaned in tandem as though Coach were calling
1-2-3-4, 2-2-3-4.

Godor shuddered above me; his body convulsed as he unloaded his native gism
up my ass; he gasped and I saw his eyes roll back.  I let myself go, feeling
the prickly swell of my nuts' torrent through the wondrous ache of my cock
length as I shot and shot all over my torso, my chest, my face, hearing the
splatter of so much cum fall in huge wads on the bed cover.  Gordo collapsed
on me, my spunk gluing us together as Coach still writhed within him, his
face now wild, contorted into what I understood to be pure carnality,
powerful and god-like.  If this was the dark angel of evil, bring it on.  A
strangled roar erupted from the top most top-man as our coach came and came
within Gordo, while the brave upon me nuzzled my ear, whispering mysterious
words in his ancestral tongue.

After a minute of this pile-on, Coach pulled himself out of Gordo and stood
only to pull the two of us apart.  He alternated between us, licking away
and swallowing the sticky jellied cum that coated our two bodies.  Would
these deliciously perverse wonders never stop!  He pulled us up and we stood
together, kissing and caressing all around.  Finally, he said.  'Into the
showers, boys.'  And more whacks on the buttocks.  Coach got in the shower
tub after us, and though we had to dance around for awhile, we managed to
soap one another and rinse in turn.  Gordo and I, first in, were first out.

As we towled, I asked, 'How're we supposed to sleep do you think?'

'Coach in the middle,' Gordo said, 'I know that.'

Rats, I wanted to snuggle with Gordo.  We turned down the covers and got in
our opposite sides. Before Coach came back, I said, 'Gordo, this has been
the greatest night of my life; I wanted you to know.'

'Me too,' he said.  We reached across and kissed one another, longingly I
thought, but not enough.

We'd used up the towels, but no mind.  Coach got between us, still slicking
down his wet mane and body hair with his hands.  'Pass me my stash, Gordo.'
He lit up again for us and we eased back.  'Well, boys, this is one of the
reasons we have tournament time.'  We all chuckled and when we had finished
the marijuana, he kissed us good night.  'See you fuckers in the morning.'

Once again, we slept late in our room, and rushed to get out to breakfast.
I cursed that I hadn't had enough time with Gordo, but looked ahead to the
evening after the big final game.  I thought about it all day, a fixation
that kept me half hard though I tried to get my mind on other things.

When we returned about 10 to the room.  Coach handed me my shopping bag of
stuff, saying, 'You go next door tonight.  Gordo is bunking with me.'

I was crushed.  Gordo and I passed between rooms exchanging places.  He
winked at me, 'Later, Lance; I promise.'  That helped a little.

Doug and Mike were only mildly sympathetic.  'This happens,' Doug said; 'get
used to it.' Mike said, 'You didn't think you married the Coach, did you?'

'I guess not.'  Well, of course not, it was Gordo I wanted to marry, but I
guessed nobody saw that.

'So,' Doug said, 'what can we do to make you feel better.'

'I don't know; maybe I should just hang it up.'  Fat chance now that I had
every proof I was bent the wrong way.

'Not with your bod, man,' said Mike and started to undress.  Doug and I
followed his start.

Mike had a full black beard coming, you could tell, and he was hairy across
the top of his chest.  I liked that, though he was wiry with a narrow face
and beady dark eyes and not as filled out as the other guys.  His cock
always seemed lopsided to me, but the way it hung from his right to left, it
showed off both his balls, thrusting them forward, exciting enough in
themselves.

Doug was smoother, sandy-blond, but with the longest, most elegant cock on
the team.  Often he'd modestly tuck it between his legs when he entered the
shower, but then it stuck out between his cheeks at the back.  I wondered if
he could suck himself.

To begin with, Doug and Mike offered me the middle of the bed.  'You can be
the Coach here,' Doug said.  The TV was on, a grainy black and white
'spooky' movie, and we started to fondle and then wank one another.  That
was hard for me.  I could pound Doug okay with my right, but I felt I
couldn't do as well with Mike on my left, though Mike was doing a
tantalizing bit of sliding on my pole.

'We better do a circle jerk,' Mike said.  Doug brought the motel's body
lotion from the bathroom and poured a palm full out to each of us.  He'd had
it warming up in a sink of hot water, and slavering it on and being coated
by our neighbor next door felt great.  How did Doug know to heat the lotion?
I wondered.  It was all the more slippery.  I was still doing Doug, Doug
doing Mike and Mike me, our legs intertwined as we sat close doing groping
slides on the cocks with our right hands and caressing the balls of the guy
on the other side with our lefts.  This was working great, and I hoped no
one wanted a switch in directions.

'Okay,' Doug called it, 'we want to all cum at the same time.'  How, I
wondered.  Mike kept a neat tempo on my meat, sliding with the right amount
of pressure, squeezing a little at the top and each time running his thumb
around the glans and over the top, coated with lotion and the pre-cum sap.
I jacked Doug like I was used to doing myself but soon took to imitating
Mike.  I saw that was the way Doug did Mike.  Doug alternated cupping my
balls, occasionally giving a light squeeze to the sac in hand, or squeezing
just below the cock.  The squeezing hurt a little and I worried about my
balls being irreparably crushed, but overall the feeling was good.  A little
pressure, a little pain, a lot of pleasure.  I imitated that too.  It was a
little difficult to concentrate like patting your stomach and rounding your
head at the same time, but it sure felt good, both doing and being done to.

'I think I'm getting there,' Mike said, and Doug pinched Mike's boner extra
hard, just between the glans and where the foreskin rolled back.  He didn't
learn this in sex ed, I thought.  Mike looked less glazed, but I felt the
good stuff rise in me; Mike noted it in me and did the little trick on my
side.  I watched Doug who seemed to be taking a long time getting fully
aroused, but he might have more power of mindfuck over matter.  Still for
the next quarter hour-between commercials on the vampire show-we stimulated
and banked back the fires in one another.

Then it was too much, Mike started squirming as though on the hot seat and
Doug began to thrust into my hand as I five-fingered him.  I could feel
myself coming right along.  I wanted to take over from Doug and whip my self
into that frenzy that finished the job.

'Go faster, guys,' Doug said, reading my mind.  We pounded then for all we
were worth and suddenly the god of ecstasy took charge; each of us quaked
and the fountains of each man's cock contributed to the abundant cascading
eruption.

'Krakatowa!' Doug shouted.

'Bombs away!' Mike called back.

I didn't know what to say for a moment and finally contributed 'Old
Faithful!'  That seemed to be all right.

Doug pulled us to our knees and we hunkered in towards one another, grinding
our weakening cocks together, mixing the cum all around, then kissing, deep
kissing, and licking one another clean.  Getting down to where we had done
the hand jive, we circle sucked each aching spent mantail, back and forth,
and collapsed back in bed, head to head.

Doug said, 'Mike, go ask Coach for a joint.'

'Are you kidding?  Send Lance; he's Coach's fair-haired boy.'

'Doug's as fair-haired as I am,' I said.

'You don't know,' Mike said.

Bantering like this we soon fell asleep.  In the middle of the night, I got
up, turned off the TV and the lights.  When I put my ear to the wall, I
swear I could hear the sounds of humping going on in the next room.  I fell
asleep to the fantasy of Gordo and me doing the humping with Coach Markus
nowhere to be found.

I thought we might have more fun in the morning, but everyone was in a hurry
to get back on the road.  I was back to being manager, and sit up front in
the cattle car school bus with Coach, who dozed, poor fucker.  Most of the
guys slept, worn out, but I supposed not all for the same reasons.  I was
wide awake, thinking about all that had happened to me in the previous three
days.  And I began to think about the days ahead.  Would life go back to
normal, whatever that was?  When we arrived in town back at the school, I
stood around with everyone coming off the bus.  Parents were there to
retrieve their sons.  Coach was long gone out of sight.  Gordo came from the
back of the bus.

'So, are we going to get together?' I asked.

'Not today, Lance; I have to get back to my people.  See you in chem. lab.'

'Okay, 'bye for now.'  I shuffled through fresh snow to the house where I
had a room, feeling really low and lonely.  Man, was it hard to concentrate
on my homework.

But next day, I felt a fresh start, and I was planning.  In Chem Lab, I
asked Gordo, 'Can you meet me after school?'

'Huh?'  Why was he playing the dumb, silent Indian now?

'Come on; meet me in the locker room.'

'Shhh,' he cautioned.

'We can work out together,' I said in a talking voice.  'And then shower
together,' I whispered.

'Don't know.  I have to catch the bus home.'

'Mike has a car; I'll get Mike to drive us.'

'Don't know.'  For the rest of the hour, Gordo went silent.

I went to the locker room after school, changed into my smelly workout
clothes, and started for the weight room, though we were not supposed to
lift weights alone.  I was on the bench when Gordo entered, dressed for
exercise.

'I'll spot for you,' he said.  We each did our succession of lifts and
curls, trading off on the spotting.  I was breathing heavily as was he since
we were up to some heavier weights and twenty reps of fifty pound curls in
each hand.  I grabbed him around the arms and chest pretending to take him
in a wrestling fall.

'Let's shower,' said the Indian of few words.

We stripped in duplicate and entered the gang showers standing at adjoining
showerheads.  'That was a good round, Gordo.'

'Yes.'  He was as hard to read as ever, but the mystery attracted me all the
more.

'Want me to soap your back?'

'Sure.'

He turned and for the hundredth time I admired his bulbous butt.  The soapy
water coursed down channeled between his two moons and down the ass crack.
I followed the soap, reaching in where I wished to be for so long and still
wanting it at that very moment.  Without looking, I could feel my hard-on
rising.  Gordo turned, his gorgeous cock also rising above that blackberry
bush.  He reached for my cock as I reached for his.

'What's going on here?'  Principal Josephson stood at the shower entrance,
another man with him.  'You boys better clean up at once and get out of
here.  Lance Davids, Gordon Fireheart, I want you two in my office at 8:05
tomorrow morning; 8:05 sharp.'

'Yes, sir,' I said.  And then, 'Oh, my God, what are we going to do?'

Gordon glared at me, wordless.  Never before had I felt the hatred of
another person turned on me.  'I'm ruined,' he said.  'You'll get off, and
I'll be expelled.'

'We'll go to Coach Markus.  He'll help us.'

'Dreamer,' Gordo said.  'More White Man dreams and lies.'

'Gordo, please.  Don't give up.'

He glared at me once more and strode out of the shower.  I turned off both
faucets and stood there, numb and shivering, more from anxiety than chill,
as Gordon hurriedly dressed and walked out.  I hurried out after, too, but
to Markus' apartment.

The short of it was, that Markus, at first angry that I had come alone to a
single man's apartment, settled down and saw the seriousness of the problem.
  Finally, he said, 'You will be expelled.  There's no doubt about that.
Unless you put all the blame on Gordo; you were working out, and he took
advantage of you.  He's 18 and you are 17, big difference.'

'Coach, I'm not going to do that,' I protested.

'Then you might as well drop out.  That will be better all the way around.'

'Meaning?'

'You and Gordo have just been together on a long weekend; Josephson will
want to know who you were with.  A lot of questions will be asked.'

'I see,' I said.  I did, thinking of Doug and Mike along with Gordo and
Markus and all our intricacies.  I could neither lie my way through that or
explain it to a het like the Superintendent.

Neither Gordo nor I ever went back to school.  Worse, the story was
immediately all around our little town, spread most likely by the
construction guy along with Josephson to bid on a remodeling job.  I lost my
job at the supermarket.

'We have young boys working here,' the owner told me.  'I can't afford to
lose a single customer.'  All true, except I wasn't after young boys, only
older ones.

I had my room paid to the end of the month, then I would be out in the snow.

Gordo left town in a day, joining the army.  Dakota were big on military, as
had been his father, grandfather, uncles, and cousins before him.

To Coach's credit, he arranged for me to go live fifty miles away with his
widowed mother.  My dreams of graduating from a real high school went into
the crapper, but good old Glenn helped me on the weekends to study for my
G.E.D. and I tested out for an equivalency diploma.  He also got me a summer
job in a metal stamping factory for the summer and helped me enroll in a
North Dakota school to prepare for teaching.