Date: Sun, 17 Feb 2002 20:27:43 -0500
From: XH4M <xhuge4muscl@hotmail.com>
Subject: BIG IS BETTER 06

BIG IS BETTER

By XH4M

This story is a fantasy.  All characters in this story are fictional with
no resemblance to any real persons implied.  Any reader with objections to
graphic descriptions of sexual encounters between males, who may not have
reached the legal age of consent, or whose local, regional, state or
national jurisprudence prohibits such descriptions, should NOT read
further.  Copyright (c) 2000 XH4M.  All rights, implicit or implied, except
for distribution by this archive and personal use by the individual
downloading the file, are reserved.  Inquiries regarding publishing rights
for this story should be directed to: xhuge4muscl@hotmail.com


PART 06 - FIRST CONTACT

My first experience hardly qualified as 'having sex.'  It was more
youthful, touchie-feelie experimentation.  But regardless, it was the
sexual benchmark event in my life; powerful and sensual - and honestly
scary because that encounter also gave me a brief peek - a little hint - at
my deeper still-repressed sexual psyche.  So my '1st time' both thrilled
and terrified.  It was my first tenuous little step along my long journey
of self-discovery.

And the guy who made this all possible was Gabe, who I'd met in my freshman
year.  Gabe's gym class and mine were scheduled during the same period, so
we were always using the locker room at the same time.  It was a small high
school and we all knew each other's names.  Gabe and I had exchanged a few
cordial 'hellos' occasionally, but nothing more conversational than that.

Gabe was a large, swarthy guy - so much taller and heavier than I was -
definitely 'all man,' - and exactly the type of man physically I would
never be.  Gabe was also confident and outgoing, traits which weren't
particularly my strongest suits back then.  I was one shy, quiet kid.
Because he was older and also an Outlander, I automatically assumed he was
sexually-experienced.  He was, after all, the big senior to my lowly
freshman - and a big varsity linebacker on the high school football team to
boot.  I was always on the lookout for the really 'big bruisers' and Gabe
more than fit that label.  He was also one of the guys who never seemed to
miss any opportunity to check me out, I'd noticed.  Whenever our paths
crossed in the locker room, his eyes would predictably roam downward
briefly to my crotch.  He took more than just 'a peek' whenever the
opportunity presented itself.  Such attention also was a constant reminder
I needed to restrict my public exposure as much as possible.

It happened during that spring semester.  By then I'd already gained a
whole new sexual vocabulary thanks to hanging around the Outlanders.  But
unlike any of the other guys, by then I'd been forced to buy another new
jockstrap.  The elastic in mine had completely failed after just a one
semester of gym class.  While some boys are tough on shoes or pants, I
seemed to just destroy jockstraps.

It was very late one afternoon, well after school was out.  I was making up
sessions for several PE classes I'd missed.  By chance I meandered into the
locker room just as Gabe was coming out of the showers with a towel wrapped
around his waist.  I didn't know it, but he'd just finished a heavy workout
and every inch of him was boldly proclaiming the more-than-impressive
rewards of weight-training.

He turned his head as he walked by me, saying, "Hi," very friendly-like,
and then giving me an unexpected 'good guy' slap on the back for good
measure with a thickly-veined hand the size of a grizzly's paw.  No wonder
he'd be picked for the State's High School All-Star Team.  Once he got a
grip on a football, no guy was going to dislodge it.

There was something unusual though about the way our eyes locked.  It was
only for an extra second or two, but still... that lingering gaze shot
though me like a bolt of lightening.  It was absolutely electrifying.  (I
didn't understand it at the time, but my GAY-DAR had just switched on for
the very first time.)

My vocal chords suddenly failed me and I couldn't return Gabe's upbeat
greeting though I certainly wanted to.  All I managed was an awkward wave
in acknowledgement, but my eyes continued to track him like a laser-guided
missile as he walked crossed the room.  It seemed as though he was moving
in slow motion.  My skin felt very warm and my heartbeat quickened.  I
could not for the life-of-me take my eyes off him.  He was more than just
tall, dark and handsome.  He looked H-A-R-D - and much more muscular than I
remembered.  The veins in his arms stood out prominently.  His muscles were
thick and stunningly bold.

"He's got really BIG muscles," was the silent chant repeating in my mind as
I continued to watch him.  But I snapped out of my trace when I suddenly
realized I was springing a quick boner uncontrollably.  There was no way to
hide it and I freaked.  Immediately spinning around on my heels, I
practically ran back out to the gymnasium and spent untold minutes
subsequently running laps to thoroughly extinguish all traces of my
undesired swelling.

Eventually I walked back into the locker room.  It was empty and unusually
quiet, with none of the noise and constant commotion commonplace during
normal school hours.  Well, wouldn't you know it - guess who happened to be
using the locker immediately next to mine?  Yep, there he was - and he was
just finishing getting dressed now.  His pullover and pair of jeans were
different from the all-occasion uniform worn by every Amish male which hung
in my own locker - a white starched shirt, black pants and suspenders.

Gabe was sitting on the bench and lacing up his boots.  I walked up to my
locker and quickly opened the door, all the while looking straight ahead.
I never said a word - more accurately, I still couldn't.  I popped off my
sneakers, peeled off my shirt and dropped my gym shorts, then automatically
positioned myself as close as I could to the locker opening, fully aware I
was only wearing my jock and socks.  (Truthfully, I'd have stood inside my
locker to get dressed, but had to settle on a more reasonable-appearing
defense such as using my locker door as a protective shield against
possible roving eyes.)

As I rummaged around inside my locker, I hadn't heard Gabe get up and
leave.  As far as I could tell, he was still sitting there quietly on the
bench.  I moved my head back slightly to discretely verify he was still
there through the corner of my eye.  Yep, he was still there and I thought
his head might even be turned towards me.  A few more covert glances
convinced me he was staring right at - well you can guess.  But oddly -
this time I didn't mind being inspected, at least by this hunk.  Gabe was
sitting close enough to feel his radiant body heat - or so I imagined
anyway.  I was thinking how - BIG - he'd looked when I'd approached my
locker - the impressive width of his thick upper back as he'd leaned over
to tie his shoes - how he more than filled out that large pullover, too.
Gabe was exactly the type of guy I'd often picture in my nocturnal dreams
and made my heart start thumping uncontrollably.  He was big AND strong -
and that always excited me - which also scared the hell out of me at the
moment.

"Hey, Peter - what 'cha hiding there?"

I froze like a deer caught in car headlights.  Gabe's voice sounded deep
and masculine.  Seconds seeming like minutes passed in silence.

I awkwardly cleared my throat a few times, then finding my voice I answered
stiltedly, " I'm... errrr... I'm not hiding anything," talking directly
into my locker.

"Yep, I think you are," he quickly replied in a friendly-sounding challenge
of sorts.  But rather than sounding confrontational, Gabe seemed to be
saying, "Hey, I'm a friend.  Just don't bullshit me."

There was a palpable tension throughout my body.  My head felt a little
light.

"Let me tell you something, Peter.  Every guy wishes he had a big
basket...."

Basket?  Well, I knew what that referred to, unfortunately.  O.K. - so I
knew I was kinda big down there, but after that first day in the locker
room, I'd spent many long months hiding myself and being as 'small' and
unobtrusively 'normal' as I could be.  I'd thought everyone had forgotten
that fact about me.  I'd hadn't so much as even looked at another guy's
crotch again myself since that fateful first day in gym class.

Truthfully, it wasn't a guy's crotch that pushed my 'on' switch anyway.  It
was their bodies - the way the 'total package' looked to me - and always it
seemed bigger looked better.  I'd kept my eyes to home for months and
slowly minimized, at least to myself, the 'size differential' between me
and the other guys.  Perhaps it was a necessary self-deception, but over
time I'd gradually shrunk my self-concept down a bit - something akin to,
"I'm not really THAT big...."  But Gabe's unexpected comment put the
lingering question right in front of my face again, and I immediately asked
myself, "Am I really THAT big?"  I had the urge to look at Gabe's crotch
just to get a reality-check and compare again, but remembered he was
already dressed.

Evidently not getting the response he'd hoped for from me, Gabe took
another approach.

"My friend says he's seen you stuffing something in there.  I mean - maybe
it's just because you're on the short side - to sorta compensate, huh?
Hey, I can understand that.  I won't tell anyone your little secret... that
you're not really hung.  Honest, I won't."

'Hung?'  Another new word, but I understood the reference clearly enough.
It was about the size of my equipment - and it was also a bold-faced lie
which infuriated me.

I was already turning red even as Gabe's hand appeared, reaching for my
locker door I'd positioned to intentionally obstruct his view.  My shield
disappeared as he pulled the creaking door all the way back.

I blurted impulsively, "See?  Can you see now?  S E E M E?"  Then I
stupidly hopped up and down in place like a kangaroo.  I only meant to
squelch this malicious rumor by showing Gabe it was unequivocally 'all me.'
And the truth was immediately obvious.  My whole jock sagged and recoiled.
The telltale motion said more than effectively, "These are the REAL
McCoy's!"  But as soon as I finished my impromptu angry demonstration, old
familiar feelings of embarrassment immediately returned.

Gabe gulped with sincere astonishment, "Man - WHAT a tool chest!"

I misinterpreted his complimentary comment completely, and said
emphatically, "I hate it.  There's too much!  I wanted to be taller, but
look what I got instead - ALL THIS!  I'm never going to be a big guy."

Gabe intensely studied my whole dilemma.  Seconds passed in complete
silence.  Then I heard one more word, spoken breathlessly....

"W-O-W...."