WORKING ON MY LUNGE
I've decided that there's nothing more stifling than spending
vacation with your folks -- especially if they think you're
straight. I mean all that shit like watching football with Dad and
forcing out lewd, sexist jokes about the cheerleaders, or laughing
at another one of my brother's faggot-in-a-hottub jokes -- it just
gets me down. Mom doesn't help by keeping Jimmy Swaggart on TV all
Sunday morning.
Stuff like that makes me almost look forward to going back to
school (and it takes a lot to make me look forward to that!) I'm a
student at Santa Lucia City College. It's a dumpy little school a
few miles outside of a dumpy little town, but it's the "back door"
to the university nearby, so I'm going to give it a try.
I've got some hard classes lined up this quarter: Calculus,
Physics, and Philosophy for instance. My first class, though,
breaks up the monotony of a purely academic schedule. All work and
no play makes Jack a dull boy, as they say. My first class of the
day is fencing.
I don't know the slightest thing about fencing. All I know is what
I saw on the olympics or in those old swashbuckler movies. I
wouldn't know a parry from a riposte or a lunge from a thrust. But
it looks kind of fun to learn, and at least it won't have homework!
So on the first day of class, I drive to school through the
early-morning fog. Naturally, half of the "staff" parking places
are empty, but I have to park a mile off campus. I get out of the
car and walk through the dew-covered grass to the Physical
Education building. I enter the gym and join about ten people
waiting for class to begin. A few others wander in as the clock
ticks on toward 8:00 AM.
"Have any of you fenced before?" one asks. Only one person
answers. "Once, at a Renaissance fair, for about twenty minutes,"
she says. So it looks like we're all in this together -- complete
beginners. There oughta be a law against handing swords to a mob
of novices.
The professor walks in, though, and that's the first thing she
does. She leads us down the hall to the equipment room and we each
get outfitted with a mask, jacket, glove and fencing foil.
Processing each of us takes up just about the whole class period,
so after I get my stuff I decide to just hang back and size people
up.
The class is just about equally divided male and female, with
students fat and thin, tall and short, muscular and scrawny. A
couple of women are struggling with the zippers on the back of each
other's fencing jackets, and one guy is trying to figure out how to
put on his mask while wearing glasses. Naturally, I keep on the
lookout for cute guys, but nobody strikes my fancy. That's kind of
a drag but after all, I came to fence, not to fuck.
After all of our equipment is checked out, the professor leads us
back to the gym. As we walk in the door, I see this guy outfitted
in his fencing jacket and white leotards doing stretching exercises
on the opposite wall. I can't see his face, but I'm sure looking!
I can tell from behind that this guy is built, and I can hardly
wait to see the rest of the picture.
I'm not disappointed. Once the rest of the class have filed in, he
gathers the rest of his gear together and faces us. "This is
Rich." the professor explains, "This is his second year of fencing.
I've got a bad back, so he's going to demonstrate and help teach."
Rich is not only built, he's gorgeous. His smile and deep-brown
eyes beam out of a smooth face topped by dark, sculptured locks.
He looks over us and says, "we're going to have a lot of fun this
quarter."
I know I will. Just looking at this guy all quarter will be plenty
of fun.
The professor says, "go to it, Rich," and Rich does. "Okay," he
says, "we don't have time to learn footwork or anything today, but
I'll try to give you an introduction to the sport. Fencing is a
game of finesse, not brute strength, and it's a lot different than
what you see in those Zorro films on TV. The winner is usually the
one who has outsmarted, not outpowered, his opponent.
"The target area is the torso and back, and you try to touch your
opponent with the tip of the foil. Head shots and slashes don't
work. Can I get a victim... I mean, volunteer up here?" We
chuckle, then he says, "no volunteers, eh? Well, how about you!" He
looks into my eyes and points straight at me.
I walk up to the front of the class and stand next to him. "The
first thing," he continues, "is that you should never cross foils
without putting on your safety equipment. All it takes is one
little slip to lose an eye. The jacket is put on like this..." Rich
then asks to see my jacket. He helps me into the jacket while
explaining to the class how the fittings should go and how tight to
fasten the straps.
I wasn't listening. My mind was in a fog as I felt his hands
perusing my body in search of straps and fastners. One hand would
slide along my back, the other across my chest. He even reached
between my legs from behind to get the crotch strap. "This strap
should be fastened securely, boys, for the obvious reasons, but not
too tight, for the same reason! When you go down on your lunges,
your jacket will tighten up, and I guarantee that you will feel it
if your strap is too tight."
"Now the mask is put on like this. You grab the tang in back, and
slide it over your head. It'll take time to get used to it, but
it'll be automatic in a couple of weeks. Now you put on yours,
uh..."
"Keith," I answered. I put on my mask, somewhat clumsily, but not
bad for the first time.
"The target area," Rich continued, "is the full torso. That
includes all of the chest and shoulders, to the belly and groin, to
both sides, to the back." He motioned with the tip of his foil over
my body as he spoke.
"Well, it looks like we're out of time. Bring your equipment to
class tomorrow and we'll learn some stretching exercises and
footwork."
I lingered in class while removing my vest, folding it, and putting
it in my mask. As I watched Rich talk with the professor, I
wondered if he singled me out as his "volunteer" because he was
attracted to me. His hands sure didn't feel like he had only
instruction in mind. But my mind had concocted such fantasies
before, only to have them dashed on the rocks of reality. I would
have to wait for my courage to appear.
* * * * *
I waited through the first two weeks of class. I had a crush on
Rich like I hadn't had since high school. His smiling face and
patience melted me whenever I asked him to help me on learning a
new task (and in order to be around him, I asked him for a lot of
advice!) Once, as the class was doing footwork drills, he passed me
and slapped me lightly on the ass. "Keep that butt in, and
straighten your back," he said. You can be certain that I kept my
back bent and my butt way out from then on.
In his eyes, his voice and his body language, I constantly saw
flirtatious signs, but I was still too unsure -- too scared -- to
make any direct responses. I admired him as he lead the class, and
I volunteered whenever he needed a "victim." I asked for help after
class. I tried to pick up whatever clues I could, but I was never
sure enough.
The third week of class, though, I made up my mind to make my move.
No matter what, I had to stop beating around the bush and take the
initiative. I didn't, however, know how or when. The opportunity
came Tuesday after class.
We had just been practicing the double lunge and class had been
dismissed. I had Calculus immediately after fencing on Tuesdays
and Thursdays, so I normally only stayed after to practice on the
other days we had fencing. Rich, however didn't know this.
"Do you want to stay and fence a bit? I need a good partner," he
said.
Usually I had asked him if I could stay and fence. This was the
first time he had asked me. I interpreted this as a good sign and
figured that learning techniques of computing derivatives of
trigonometric functions just wasn't all that important anyway, so I
stayed.
We stood on the fencing strip and saluted each other, then the bout
began. We each advanced, then he put his foil out in a feint
thrust. I reacted by retreating and attempting a parry. He
brought his foil back and advanced. When he advanced, I made my
move and lunged. Before I brought my foil down to his target,
however, he made a swift thrust and caught me as I lunged toward
him.
"Touche!" he said. "You still rely too much on strength. You have
the power to break through my parry, but you've got to learn
finesse and style. If you had extended your foil toward my target
before lunging, you would have forced me to react instead of act.
Instead you gave me an opening to attack."
"Oh," I said, daydreaming even as I pretended to listen.
"Hey, when's your next class?"
"This is my last class today," I lied.
"You wanna go get a coke or something?"
"Sure!"
"I'll meet you down at the Cyprus Cafe."
As I walked to my car, my heart beat double-time. First off, to my
fantasy-soaked mind, this constituted our first date. Second,
Santa Lucia isn't big enough to have it's own gay bar, so the
popular gay hangout is none other than the Cyprus Cafe. The head
"bartender" there is a notorious flirt and he has attracted
"friends" who told their friends who told their friends and so on.
This is not a very subtle hint, if indeed it is a hint.
* * * * *
"So, come here often?" I couldn't believe that the cliche came out
of my mouth as I sat with Rich in a booth at the cafe.
"Yep. I like the atmosphere here, you know?" he said with a wink.
"Yeah, I know what you mean," I said in such a way as to try to
provoke him into revealing if I really did know what he meant.
Rich leaned over the table and crossed his hands in front of him.
"Keith," he said, "let me ask you a question." My heart began to
drown out the folk guitarist in the other room as I nodded. "Am I
just getting crazy, or have we been flirting with each other?"
Although it was just what I wanted to hear, I was so shocked to
hear it that I could barely answer. I stared, speechless, into his
deep eyes -- terrified at what I might find there, but unable to
look away. I swallowed a couple of times before I could squeak
out, "I think so."
"Good," he said, "'Cause I couldn't stand playing this waiting game
anymore. I just had to know." He leaned back in his chair and took
a sip of his cola.
Now that it was out, I screamed inside -- Why didn't I ask last
week? Two weeks ago? Why was I so scared? Why did I torture myself?
But, eventually, I had to acknowledge that what's done is done.
There's no reason to lament the past when there is so much to look
forward to in the future.
"So. What now?" I asked
"Well, hmmm..." he said and took another drink. He leaned toward
me and lowered his voice, "I don't know about you, but I feel like
putting an end to these three weeks of foreplay and start, uh,
working on our lunges."
I was up from the table before I could even say "okay" and we were
out the door and headed toward his apartment. We took his car, and
all the way there I was thinking about what was ahead. I couldn't
even talk I was so excited. Just the thought of my hands on Rich's
prime ass, and my dick got harder than the gearshift stick that
Rich was holding. The way he was rubbing the gearshift stick, I
knew that his mind was preoccupied as well.
We parked at the Cyprus Glen student apartments and rushed up the
stairs to his third-floor apartment. I strategically allowed him
to lead the way up the stairs so that I could follow that gorgeous
denim-covered ass with my eyes. Finally we got to the door and he
thrust his key in the lock. We entered the room and he shut the
door behind us.
The late-morning sun pushed light through the curtains and padded
the room with a soft crimson glow. Rich closed the door and threw
his arms around my waist, and I put mine around his back. "Mmmmm,"
I purred and pulled him close to me. He moved his hands down the
small of my back and around my ass and grabbed. My dick in my
pants was pushing seductively against his. I moved my face down to
kiss his cheek, and he immediately met my mouth with his, kissing
me hard and probing deep with his tongue until, suddenly, he broke
off and pulled me over to his bed.
He crashed down on the mattress, pulling me with him. I landed
with a gasp and the bedsprings groaned. The middle of the bed
collapsed and we lay tangled together, laughing and trying to think
up a way to unscramble ourselves. "God the beds here suck," he
said.
"Mm Hmm... But I suck better," I murmurred and lightly grabbed his
earlobe with my teeth. I slid my lips around his ear, searching
for that ever-elusive point that I felt sure would make him
quivver. First at the top, then along the side, then as I thrust
my tongue deep into his ear -- I heard him gasp and felt his legs,
as tangled as they were, tense against my body.
"Let's get out of this mess," I finally said.
"Mmmmm... I'm comfortable..."
"Yeah, I figured, but lets find room for the mattress on the floor,
okay?"
"Well, all right..."
We managed to extricate ourselves and pull the mattress from the
bedframe. When we set the it on the ground, Rich came up behind me
and put his arms around me. "This looks pretty stable," he said.
I leaned back into him and rubbed my cheek against his. I could
feel his prick against my ass and so I pushed closer to him and
began to grind against him. He responded in kind, and slid his
hand up my shirt and pulled me closer to him.
His other hand slid down, slowly, down one leg and then the other,
sliding against my rock-hard dick teasingly, almost as if
unintentionally. Then suddenly, he rubbed my prick hard through my
pants, and I almost jumped at him. My cock was getting so urgently
hot that, looking down, I could see the tip peeking out, too
excited to be contained. Rich slid his hand up to this sight and
began rubbing the precum-lubed tip of my dick with his finger. All
of that attention focused on such a small, and oh-so-sensitive,
area made me want to scream. I almost couldn't take it.
I abruptly turned around and grabbed him tight. This time I
grabbed him and pulled him down to the matress. I was happy to
find that the floor didn't collapse beneath us! I pulled his shirt
over his head, and he returned the favor. Unwilling to waste any
more time, we tore at our remaining clothes until we lay in front
of each other naked and quite ready. Rich looked me up and down.
"On guard!" he said admiringly. I almost blushed.
I dove again toward his earlobe and while caressing it with my
tongue, I let one hand slide over the downy hair of his ass. With
my other hand I started to rub his cock with an intensity of
purpose that I never even allowed myself when jacking off.
He grabbed my ass and purred between gasping breaths. "Keith," he
said, "I want to come inside you."
"That can be arranged."
His panting came faster, "Like soon, I mean!"
"Let's check out some safety equipment."
"Mmmmmm..." he said, "I hate to interrupt things..."
I laughed, "Well, it can't be worse than being swallowed by your
bed!"
Rich reached over behind his back and pulled a string of rubbers
from his bottom desk drawer. Within seconds he had ripped one open
and slid it over his throbbing cock. "Are you ready?" he asked.
"I've been ready for weeks," I said and rolled over. He rolled
over on top of me, his dick falling hot on my ass. With his tongue
in my ear and his hand combing through my hair, I waited
expectantly. Soon I felt him start to enter me. I felt him tense,
and then felt the moment of will it hurt or will it --- aaah!
He was in me. I heard his choppy moans as he lunged deeper within
me. I teased him with my ass, tightening and moving forward, then
suddenly back with enough force to whiplash his balls against my
butt. "I'm not going to last much longer," he whispered.
"Don't let me hold you back," I answered. No sooner had I
completed the sentence than he was lifting his head and screaming
with each hard thrust. Soon, he was spent, and he collapsed on top
of me. "Your turn babe..."
I gave his prick another playful squeeze with my ass, "you're gonna
have to get off of me first."
"Okay," he said. "Gimme a minute."
I could barely restrain myself for a second, but I gave him a few
seconds to recover. Before long, though, I had jumped up and
strapped a rubber in place. "Ready?" I asked, and God, I sure was.
My cock was bright and hot and hard in my hand as I guided it to
his asshole.
"Never readier. Go for it." And I did. With no hesitation, I
plunged in with an animal grunt. I felt his ass grab me and I
thrust deeper. It felt like he squeezed the blood from my cock
straight to my brain. I felt myself swell with the electric
feeling, and I held it as long as I could stand. I dug my teeth
into his shoulder and put my hips on auto-pilot.
My head flooded; I became my cock. All of my energy, all of my
sensations, all of my attention was on my dick. I grew less aware
of my loud breathing, of my mouth on Rich's shoulder, of the room,
of the earth I lived on. And then I spit pulses of cum, attempting
to extinguish the fire with lava!
As soon as it had begun, it was over. I again became aware of the
world around me, and Rich beneath me. "Keith?" he said.
"...mmmmmm..."
"So, d'ja have fun?"
"...mmmmmm..."
"Well, uh..."
"...mmmmmm..."
"...nap time, I guess, huh?"
"...uh huhmmmmmmmmm..."