Date: Fri, 12 Jun 2015 14:02:18 -0400
From: Andrew Phillips <andrewphil69@gmail.com>
Subject: He and I (Part 18)

The saga continues.  Would appreciate any feedback or questions you might
have (andrewphil69@gmail.com).  Stay hard, Drew


==============================================================

Part 18

Andy (Me):

The meet went well.  It was the first competition of the season and both
teams performed well.  Luckily we won overall, though Chad narrowly won the
diving with a last minute, high value dive.  The combination of dives
displayed the high definition of his gymnastic body, a body I looked
forward to exploring in the future.

The trip home was uneventful, Sean appearing lost in thought much of the
time.  He hardly said a word.  As we approached my home he reminded me of
our practice after work on Tuesday.  "Could we, well, get together, maybe
for lunch on Tuesday.  I know an out of the way place.  I'll give you a
call."

I replied, "Sure, I'd like that."  Little more was said, but I got the
feeling that we would do more than eat, my heart missing a beat while my
balls stirred.  We came to my home.  As I reached back for my duffle, our
cheeks rubbed and he stole a quick kiss.   Then he rubbed my chin, I
scratched his right ear, and jumped out of the car.

Monday was the first day of work at Green Pastures.  It was a hot one.  I
arrived early, at 7:30, at the nursery.  The idea was we'd put in 5 hours
early each day to avoid much of the heat.   I saw that I was one of 5 other
young guys, one of whom was my teammate, Tommy Olsen.  Our first assignment
was a major landscaping job on the outskirts of town.  By midmorning we
were all stripped to our waists and sweating profusely.  By 1 PM our
workday was over and Tommy and I went to the sandwich place nearby.

As we sat with our foot-long subs and 32 ounce drinks something seemed to
be on Tommy's mind.  After talking about the new jobs he hesitantly said,
"Can I talk frankly with you?"  Remember, Tommy was not a talkative person,
so I was surprised and said he could.

"I got the feeling last week that you might be someone I could confide in.
I never told you how much I appreciated how you welcomed me when I first
came here two years ago.  I guess I am a little shy, but I don't know if I
would have met anyone if it had not been for you.  Once I joined the swim
team I was able to get to know some others a bit, but you were the
friendliest and about the only one I spoke to."

I thanked him for his compliment awaiting what would come next.

"But now I have a problem.  There's a person I really would like to get to
know better, but I don't know how to, well, tell..."  I saw that he was
blushing, the flush of red spreading over his neck and face, and even
showing through his blond crew cut. "Maybe you could help," he continued.

"So you're the secret admirer of someone who doesn't know you exist?  Who
is she?" I asked.

"Well, I didn't say that exactly," he stammered.

"What exactly to you mean?" I pushed him.

"Well I know the person a little and" and after a long pause "it isn't a
`she'."

It appeared to me that as he got that out he was prepared to flinch, almost
expecting me to take a shot at him.

"Okay," I said, as matter-of-factly as I could.  "First who is it and why
are you asking me about it?"  I was determined to calm him down.  This
interest of his seemed to mean a lot to him and I didn't want to discourage
him.

Tommy, although very shy, was physically attractive with a nice manner and
a winning, boyish smile.  His shyness sort of made him neutral, neither
flirting with girls nor paling around with guys.  I never thought of him as
interested in sexual things.  But I should have known better.  These
Baptists, sort of like the Mormons, kept a lot bottled up, out of view.  I
had no idea what the fantasies, let alone the sexual orientations, of such
guys.

Maybe I was getting ahead of myself, since I had not the slightest idea why
he wanted to get to know some guy better.  It could just be to have someone
to hang out with.  Maybe this whole gay thing was warping my mind and I
(wishfully?) saw a fag around every corner.

As I waited for his answers I started thinking:  Was he coming out?  Did he
have a crush on me?  (What kind of selfish egotist was I!?)  Anyway, if I
were the object of his interest I don't think he would be talking to me
like this.  I guess from our brief contact last Thursday that he might
think I would be, mmm, sympathetic.  And I have to admit I would be.  But
now I was just curious.  I waited as all sorts of emotions seemed to pass
over him.  Was he considering dropping this whole matter?  I think he
realized he had gone to far to back off.

Finally, after about four minutes of silence, he whispered, "Tim."

"Tim?"

"Tim Weaver, our teammate."

Was I disappointed that I wasn't the one?  Frankly I was very relieved.
Sean, my love, and Chad, my lust, were quite enough, at least for now.

"And, I thought you seemed to be very accepting and friendly, and I never
heard you say anything prejudicial about anyone, black or white, Catholic
or Protestant, gay or straight.  So I assumed you wouldn't be judgmental.
And I needed to talk to someone!  I had thought about talking directly to
Tim, but I just couldn't get up the courage, and I thought you..." he trailed
off.

He didn't even suggest that he had any suspicions about my sexual
preferences, and this was surely not the time to introduce them.  That
didn't mean he didn't have some inkling, it just wasn't what was on his
mind.  Clearly Tim was what was on his mind.

Tim Weaver was a really nice guy, about 5'8", a lean, buff 140 pounds,
mainly a backstroker; brown hair and brown eyes with a sunny disposition.
And, by the way, well hung.  Not a great scholar but into all sorts of
sports.  He was always talking MLB and NBA news, and was an avid fan of our
local minor league class A team, the Martens.  He peppered his
conversations with lots of sports metaphors.  He was also very popular
having been elected class president in his senior year and prom king.  His
father was a lawyer and his mother a librarian.  He had a younger sister.
Nice family.

I had gotten to know Tim on the swim team, as I wasn't into school
politics.  I had never thought of him as even possibly gay, though he threw
out a few vibes last week as he returned that exploratory stare I shot at
my fellow teammates.

Finally, Tommy spoke up again haltingly, "Would you, could you, possibly
talk to him on my behalf?"

I was intrigued.  "What do you want me to say?  That Tommy has a crush on
you?"

"No, no, no.  Nothing so direct.  How about just seeing if the three of us
could go out for a pizza?"

"Wouldn't that give him the idea that *I* was into him?" I argued.  I
paused.

Then I relented. I told shy Tommy that I might could make such an off hand
suggestion after practice on Tuesday and see what happens.  "We just have
to get the two of you together in some relaxed, informal place and see if
any sparks fly," I added assuringly.  But I was not sure I had much
confidence.  But, hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Tommy seemed pleased at my proposal.  And I just figured out how to
approach Tim.



Sean (him):

Longing for Andy, that's been my perpetual state since Sunday.  Tuesday
morning I called him and found out his schedule.  Team practice was at 5,
he got off work at 1, so we arranged to meet at the home of a teacher
colleague of mine who was out of town.  She had asked if I'd feed her cat,
so I had use of her home for the next two weeks.  Amazing how opportunity
knocks.  I told Andy to meet me there after work.  He showed up at 1:30,
still in his work clothes, his sweaty T-shirt affixed to his torso.  What a
wonderful sight!

We embraced, kissed, tightly, violently, passionately, our bodies grinding
together.  Speechlessly we began stripping one another, first his shirt,
then mine, unbuckling jeans, slipping them off, Calvin Klein bikini briefs
abutting Tommy Hilfiger boxers and quickly removed, our hands grabbing each
the others' butts, pulling, thrusting; our mouths smothering each others'
chests, nipples, pits.  Out of control.  After a couple of minutes of this
sexual wrestling we came up for air, gasping with our yet unsatisfied
desires.

"Not so fast," I said, not sure whether I was addressing Andy or myself.
We were by now stretched out on the living room rug.  I suggested we move
to an upstairs bedroom, easier to clean up if we, well, distributed any
bodily fluids.  By the time we got there our hard-ons were detumescent, but
we resumed our exertions and it took no time to get them up.  I had turned
Andy on his belly and was rimming him while running my hands up the sides
of this body, stroking his armpits.  His salty, musky, sweaty hole tasted
fantastic and really turned me on.  He moaned with pleasure as my chest
forced his legs apart and my tongue continued its explorations; then I
adding a load of my saliva and fingering his taut entrance.  I could sense
him relaxing expectantly.

Finally I rolled over, expertly slipping on a condom, rolled back and
slowly but surely penetrated his anus.  Slow and steady I slid smoothly in
till reaching my hilt, then rhythmically increased the pace till he was
shouting in pleasure. I had reached around, forcing my hand under his
muscled abdomen to grab his throbbing cock.  After a few more lusty
thrusts, I came repeatedly.

I pulled out and flipped him over, his penis still erect and bobbing.  I
obligingly engulfed it, my teeth and tongue massaging it gently, the tip of
my tongue exploring his penile slit. Then, as I deep-throated his member I
brought him to a series of voluminous orgasms, swallowing as much of his
delicious cum as I could.  I rolled off onto my back, removed my condom and
allowed the semen to flow out onto my chest.  Andy said he had not yet had
lunch and lapped up the cum off my hairy chest, tonguing my nipples while
he was at it.  Thus we each had something for lunch.  Very satisfying.