Jeremy's Swimming Lessons

by Smokr

Chapter 14

"That time, son," Dad said as he knocked on my door.

"Okay," I groaned.

So glad he doesn't open the door! I thought, as I sat up and noticed that I was naked and uncovered. I've got to be way more careful! What if they figure I'm covered and open the door and...

Oh, geeze.

It not only tingled this morning, it was twitching and throbbing, and there was that clear stuff leaking out of it. I wasn't surprised, not with the dream I'd been having when Dad knocked.

I fell onto my back and sighed. I wrapped my hand around it and my toes bent and my ankles popped. My whole body was tense and tingly. I really needed to take care of it. But I knew how great it would be later if I didn't. I grinned wider and just held it. I moaned softly and my body shuddered a little. It jerked in my hand and released that clear stuff. I wiped it up with a finger and tasted it. I wished that it was Mitch's.

I played the dream in my head, wanting to remember it. It'd been so realistic! We'd been talking at Chet's house, and Chet and Howie had left. Mitch wanted me to rub his sore leg. I did. I rubbed it higher and higher, until my hands were inside his short shorts, and then he had sat up and smiled at me, then kissed me, then took his shorts off. He undressed me, and we were kissing and touching. It'd been so awesome! We were lying on our sides, about to start sucking each other, when Dad had woken me up.

I sighed again, let go of my prick, and sat up. I shivered and stretched, and refused to give my erection any attention. I wanted to wait. I didn't know if Mitch would be coming over to Chet's today, but I was pretty sure he was. I hoped he wrestled with Howie again. If not, I planned on asking Mitch to show me some moves. I wanted to be the one he was wrestling around on the floor with. I planned on 'accidentally' touching his erection at least once.

I intended asking Chet about the ideas first. If he thought they were good, I'd do them. If not, I wouldn't.

I took a quick shower, got dressed in some clothes that were nearly Sunday-best, and made sure my hair was under control, and that I didn't have any acne. I put on the cologne my dad had given me for Christmas. It was expensive and smelled very nice. I even wore my good sneakers.

I went down for breakfast feeling great, and ready to devour anything and everything in reach. My gym clothes were on the counter.

"Uh-oh," Dad said as I sat down at the table, grinning at me.

"What?" I asked, making sure the shirt was buttoned and checking over the zipper and belt.

"Looks like our boy has an interest in someone," Mom said, grinning too widely for me to be comfortable.

"Oh, geeze," I groaned loudly, feeling my face heating up.

"What's her name?" Dad asked.

Her. He'd naturally assume it was a her. I felt torn in two. On one hand, it was kind of nice to have someone to be interested in who might be interested in me, too. But then, on the other hand, it wasn't a her, it was a he.

The thought that their son is a homosexual made me grimace. I couldn't hide it. I knew they would be so disappointed. Not only let down, but upset and probably disgusted.

I shouldn't have dressed any different! Idiot! How stupid! I should have acted totally normal. Not done anything different. Now they think I've got my eyes on a girl. Now I have to lie to them. Damn it. Damn!

I didn't answer their question, and I hoped they wouldn't ask it again.

"Now, don't embarrass him," Mom said, still grinning way to big. "He'll tell us when he wants to."

Yeah, Mom. When I want to, I'll tell you I'm in love with another boy. Sure I will. When pigs fly and geese lay golden eggs.

I'd lost all of the good mood. Now I felt like a heel. Even worse than a mere heel. I wasn't even hungry now, but I had to eat to keep them from asking more questions. The food was heavy and felt like cement in my guts. I faked a smile through breakfast, and was again really glad to get out of the house.

Mike and Chris were as normal as ever on the bus. I felt like I was lying to them and it was going to catch up to me in time. I had to fake my good mood so they didn't suspect anything. In homeroom, I kept faking the good mood. Then... Mitch.

White shorts and a tight red t-shirt. High socks that went almost up to his knees. Those shorts weren't nearly as tight as the ones yesterday, but they were so thin! I could tell where his briefs were and what was his skin. Even the material of the pockets was visible. The tight red t-shirt showed off his pecs, shoulders, flat tummy, and navel. And the arms of the shirt hugged his biceps.

I forgot not to stare. I couldn't think, anyway. I just stared as he walked in and sat down. He limped just a bit. Those white, thin shorts let the leg-bands of his underwear make lines under his buttocks, and his darker skin there was clearly darker than his briefs. And as he turned and sat down, his butt was just...

By then I was fully hard and nearly panting. And starting to sweat. The sweat wasn't such a big deal, as it was so hot and muggy anyway. The erection was hidden as I was sitting down, no biggie. But the panting was a problem. I made my eyes go back into my head, looked down at my books, and tried to make myself breathe like a normal guy, not a homosexual who had just stared at the most attractive boy he'd ever seen.

"Hi, guys," Mitch said, cheerfully. "Morning, Jer."

I looked up at him with as normal a smile as I could manage, and said, "Morning, Mitch."

His moist, dark-red, luscious lips were parted in a wide smile, and his deep-brown eyes were warm and wide.

I would have given up a testicle to be able to wrap my arms around him, and put my mouth on his right then and there, and no one bother us or even care. I swallowed what felt like a golf ball.

He asked me about one of the lessons in a class we had together, then leaned over to point out the page it was on in the textbook. I smelled him. My stomach quivered and my breath caught. I had to concentrate to even follow the question he was asking.

"Yeah, I get that," I said, actually glad that I could help him out.

He scooted his desk next to mine and we worked on it together. Being so close to him was intense! It was almost impossible to talk. I had to answer and point out things with real short sentences, afraid that my voice would give away my thoughts.

And what thoughts! I mean, sitting next to him like that, and looking down at the textbook, his lap was right there in view! Oh, God! Those white shorts didn't hide anything! They were so thin, and so almost see-through! They were practically just long-legged briefs with a zipper and a button! I could tell what bulges were what! And I could tell that he wasn't all soft and shrunken. It wasn't fully hard, but it was more than normal. And mine was fully erect.

I glanced down at my own lap and could tell. I knew he could tell if he looked.

And in a sudden flash, I remembered that he might be like me! It made me flinch and my breath heave inward audibly.

"What?" he asked me.

"I... uh... I just remembered something I forgot," I said as quickly as I could, not able to meet his eyes.

"Anything big?" he asked.

Oh, man, and how! I thought.

"Nah. Just... no biggie. So, if you use the plural possessive on these, they still get the apostrophe in the same place. Get it?"

"I think. Why is this stuff so hard?"

Why are you so hard? I thought. Why is it so hard be queer? Why is it so hard to deal with it? To tell someone?

"Who knows," I answered.

We worked on the lesson until the bell rang, then walked to our next class together. I kept thinking how no one could tell that I was a queer, that I didn't have to worry about it. That so long as I didn't do or say anything to reveal it, there wasn't anything to worry about.

So why was I so worried?

It was another usual day at school. The new usual, that is. Classes with Mitch were dreamy and terrifying, and classes without him were empty and lonely.

Gym class was hard. Again. When we got to our lockers, I steeled myself for what was to come. I began thinking about players and stats, and kept my eyes in my locker as Mitch talked. It was too hot to be outside again, so the volleyball nets were set up for the girls and the boys played basketball. I wasn't very good, but I wasn't really bad, either. Mitch was slow and uneven on his hurt leg. The coach had him sit out after a while, once Mitch told him he'd sprained a muscle doing exercises yesterday to get ready for baseball.

I saw Frank playing volleyball with the girls and the wimps. I felt sorry for him.

I didn't even glance in the showers. When we were at our lockers again, I accidentally saw him bending over as he put his feet into his briefs. Okay, not by accident, but... never mind.

More classes, then baseball practice. Outside in the heat again. I was going to have to take all my gym clothes home to be washed again. We sweated them soaked in the first few minutes. Mitch had a little trouble trying to pitch with his sore leg. He could still throw far, though. We practiced throws and catches, and then did stretches. The coaches walked up and down the lines of us as we went through the stretches. They'd ask some guys to go further, other guys if that was all they could do, and some they said "Good work" to. Mitch was pushing down on my back as the coach came by, and I had my forehead almost in the dirt.

"Fine distance. Can you do that with your legs together?" he asked.

I nodded, then slid my legs together. Mitch pushed down on my back and my forehead hit my legs.

"Good. Keep it up," and he moved on.

"I think you're the only one here who can bend that far," Mitch said behind me, leaning onto my back with his hands. "Can you do the splits?"

I laughed. Only girls did splits. And me.

The coaches lined us up and had us go through tons of stretches together. Some in pairs, sometimes alone.

"You need to be limber to protect your muscles," one coach said. "Muscles have to be more than just strong. More sprains and tears happen because the muscle wasn't limber enough. Weight-lifters don't want stretchy muscles, but you aren't weight-lifters. You're baseball players, and you need to be able to have your muscles be able to take being stretched when that runner tries to take you down at first base, or when you make that diving catch, or when you lead off of a base. Not to mention having that dexterity will increase your speed and accuracy."

"Look at Jeremy here," another said as I was doing the hurdle stretch. "He's almost got his balls in the dirt." Everyone laughed. I felt my face go hot and red. "But when he reaches out to make that leaping stretch-catch in the outfield and comes down, he's not going to end up with a pulled hamstring or a torn tendon. He's going to make the catch and be there for the next one."

I looked at Mitch once the coach moved on. He was grinning at me. Really nicely. I felt my face go even redder and hotter, and looked away.

"Come on, Hatcher," a coach yelled. "If you're afraid your balls will fall out, no one's gonna notice. Get down!"

I looked over to see Hatcher Combs trying to stretch out his leg behind him. He had a lot of muscle, and it was obviously tight. He couldn't stretch much at all, but his leg muscles were bulging and straining.

"When you stride out to tag that base ahead of the throw, you're gonna end up in the hospital!" the coach almost yelled. "This is what we're talking about, gentlemen."

I went back to stretching out. Mitch gasped sharply. I looked over and saw him grimacing, trying to stretch his sore leg.

"Don't," I told him. "Don't push it too hard. You'll end up making it sore again."

He looked at me and snickered, then said, "At least I'll know where to go to get it rubbed down."

I felt my mouth fall open. He laughed and switched legs. Now I could see his stuff in his sweat-soaked gym shorts. If he stretched much further, some of his stuff would fall out. I suddenly worried if any of mine would, since I was able to stretch so much further than him. I couldn't tell by looking down at it. I hoped not and kept going.

I heard laughter and looked that way, and saw Davis Hampton tucking his stuff back up. He had quite a bit to tuck away. He was a senior, and well endowed all around down there. He wasn't the last one to drop his balls into the dirt, so to speak, either. Guys were stretching as far as they could now. The coaches were saying things like, "Good job," and "That's the way." I saw more balls hanging out of shorts that afternoon than I ever thought I would. And, of course, my own had to join the crowd.

I felt it happen the second one of them slid out of the leg of my briefs. I pulled my legs back and tucked it away. Out of embarrassment, and in hopes he didn't notice, I looked at Mitch. He'd noticed. He was red-faced from the exercise, and grinning.

"Knew that'd happen sooner or later," he said. "Too big not to."

I rolled my eyes, and looked back forward and returned to stretching. I was dying, wishing his would, but he had to take it easy with his sore leg.

Then we did motion skills. Quick changes in direction, short hops, things like that. Finally, practice ended.

The shower was bliss. A lot of guys groaned and limped. That made me laugh a little. Mitch did too, though. I kept my eyes off him. It was too tempting. We talked like we were sitting in a classroom, just as if we weren't naked and next to each other.

The tough part today was toweling off. Mitch left the showers with me. How do you dry your legs without bending over? You don't. And how do you not look at Mitch's stuff when you bend over to dry your legs? You don't. You look. And you try not to let your dong point up at the ceiling.

And you try not to look as you get dressed next to him. Oh, God, what a temptation. I managed it, though.

"So, guys, up for some more extra skills work?" Chet asked, as he walked up next to us.

"Sure," Mitch said happily.

"Sure," I agreed.

"See you guys at the car."

"This is so cool!" Mitch said, grinning from ear to ear at me. "Chet is a great guy. And Howie, too."

"Yup," I agreed, and thought, if you only knew.

We talked as normal as normal is as we finished dressing and stuffed our sweaty gym clothes into our packs and then headed out to Chet's car. I watched Mitch's butt as he got into the back seat. Those white shorts were... just... gosh! I could see his briefs, and where they ended, and his skin. God! And even worse, I could smell his gym clothes. I always though of a guy's sweaty clothes as completely disgusting, but suddenly, no more. At least, not Mitch's. The smell of his sweaty clothes was... I don't even know how to describe it. It made me feel horny and hungry and hot and... just... God! It was driving me insane!

I got in the front seat and covered my lap. No smirking grins from Chet today if I could help it.

"When my leg isn't sore, will you help me stretch? I'd love to be as flexible as you are," Mitch said.

I turned to see him in the back seat, and said, "Sure."

Images of stretching him out, naked, working his muscles and bending him into all kinds of positions filled my head.

"Great. I mean, I never seen a guy so limber. You have to do those stretches at home, right?"

"Yeah. Did before I hurt my ankle. Just now healed and back to normal. Wait until I get back to stretching all the time."

"Wow," he said, grinning nicely. "You can get even more limber?"

I nodded, and grinned, too. He was so handsome! And he was maybe, maybe, homosexual, too. Wow! I couldn't wait to find out! But I knew to take it slow and easy, like Howie and Chet said to. If he wasn't, and I pushed too far too fast, I knew it would be a disaster.

Then things got so weird. We just stared at each other. Grinning, hardly blinking, and just looking. Eye to eye. Silent. Smiling. Blushing.

Chet opened his door and we both sort of jumped.

"Okay, guys," Chet said as he got in. "Coaches noticed your dexterity, Jer, and your long throws and balance even with a sore leg, Mitch. They had good things to say about you both. I think you're making your marks."

"Honest?" Mitch asked.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yup. I'm pretty sure you're both in, so long as you don't get hurt or screw up somehow."

"Great!" we both crowed.

"Howie has to do some things, so it's just the three of us today. I was thinking we could do the drill the coaches will throw at you guys next week. There's a couple that they do that aren't well known, and they like to trip the new guys up with 'em. I figure if you know about them and can do them, that'll be a big lead on the other guys and look good."

Who was gonna argue with that? Mitch and I were both really excited.

At Chet's place, we got fluids. Like Chet said, "Don't allow yourself to dehydrate." We drank an entire gallon of orange juice.

We laughed about the guys falling out of their shorts in practice. Chet brought it up, of course. Then he said, "And I saw a certain Jeremy's stuff dangling in the breeze," laughing.

"Hung almost to the dirt, like coach said," Mitch added with a laugh.

"Screw you guys," I complained, red-faced. "I bet Chet's would have gotten dirty for sure."

"I can't stretch that far," Chet said. "Mine would have to hang down to my knees to hit the dirt in a hurdle stretch."

"Jer's really almost did!" Mitch laughed, turning redder.

"Mine don't hang down to my knees!" I argued, laughing.

"No, but you can stretch down almost into splits!" Mitch said.

"He can do splits, I bet," Chet said, looking at me in a judging way.

"Think so?" Mitch asked, looking from Chet to me.

I shrugged it off.

"Can you?" Mitch asked.

"Not now. But after a couple weeks, I probably can again," I answered.

Chet said, "I'll be right back. Gonna change," and left us alone.

"I'd kill to be as limber as you," Mitch said.

"Be glad to go through the stretches with you, when your leg is better."

"I'd rip up the middle if I tried!"

"Not if you worked your way up to it," I offered.

"As long as you help."

"I will. We'll get you doing splits and dragging your nuts in the dirt in hurdle stretches in no time!"

We laughed again, really hard. God! He was so cute! And his laugh was just so... sweet and musical and rounded.

"You've got the nicest eyes," he said suddenly.

I felt a massive warm wave of... something rush through me.

"So do you," I heard myself say, to my utter shock.

I could tell that he was embarrassed as I was. We were both quiet. I wished I knew what to say. I wished I could just tell him that I loved him and wanted to have him.

We glanced around a lot, taking quick glances at each other. We were both blushing darkly. I saw beads of sweat on his forehead. I felt it on my own. I forced myself to swallow.

Chet walked in. He was in old gym shorts that were too tight and too short, and a tight t-shirt. He was very attractive. But he was no match for Mitch.

"So, you guys wanna try those skills the coaches are going to pull on you next week?"

"Sure," Mitch and I said together.

I was both relieved and let down. I wanted to continue talking together and see where it went, but I was also afraid of where it could end up.

Chet showed us what moves and skills the coaches were going to have us do next week, including the ones that were new to both of us that the coaches hoped to trick all the new guys up with.

"Remember," Chet said. "Don't let on you know them. Make it look like it's the first time you've ever done them. Or else they'll know you were tipped off."

We agreed, and practiced how to do them just good enough to not look clumsy and awkward doing them. Once we went through the exercises, and were sweating a little, we had some water, and cooled off in the kitchen. We talked about baseball and practice until it was time to head home.

The ride was fun. Chet played the radio, and we sang along to some good songs. When we dropped off Mitch, he patted my shoulder again as he said, "Bye, guys," from the back seat. We met eyes this time as he did that. His big smile and his touch were both so... electric!

I couldn't take my eyes off of him as he walked up to his front door. His body was so great. The way he walked was even sexy.

"He really is something," Chet said.

"I know," I agreed with a sigh.

"And I really think he's like us. I think next time I'll have you guys strip down to the buff and massage each other down."

I looked over at him, then punched his shoulder almost as hard as I could.

"What the hell?" he asked, grinning.

"You do, and I'll kick your butt!"

"Hey, it would tell us a lot!"

I punched his shoulder again.

"Hold off on pulling it tonight," he said, as he backed out of Mitch's driveway.

"Why?"

I wasn't sure I could.

"Because you'll be glad you did after school tomorrow."

"Why?"

"Because Mitch won't be joining us tomorrow," he said, grinning at me as he put the car in drive.

I felt my face get even hotter, and I didn't bother hiding how huge the grin was.

He wouldn't tell me what he had in mind for tomorrow, but he loved joking around about it. I couldn't get a hint or a clue, but I was sure excited.

On the way home, I thought of what my parents had said over breakfast, and of how Chet and Howie had the girl problem pretty much taken care of. I could use his advice, so I told him what my parents thought about why I had dressed up some today.

"Uh-oh. Yeah, been there. Well, best way I handled it was to say it was my own business. Nicely, ya know? Don't get angry or anything. Grin and act shy about it. Just say it's your business, and maybe hint they can meet her if things work out."

It sounded good to me. We talked about Mitch the rest of the ride.

"Save it up," was his last words to me after I had said, "Bye, see ya tomorrow."

I nodded, then nearly ran into the house. I tore through my chores and then showered. I got incredibly hard in the shower, thinking about Mitch. I managed not to do it.

Dinner was awkward. My folks asked about the girl again. I said it was my business, nicely and with a smile.

"Well, just remember that talk we had, son," Dad said, meeting my eyes.

I blushed furiously. That talk would never be forgotten! It was easily one of the most embarrassing things in my life, right up there with Mom seeing me with an erection one morning.

"I will," I said, unable to meet his eyes now.

After dinner, I did the rest of my homework. And thought about Mitchell. And that talk alone in Chet's kitchen. And that he said he liked my eyes.

It was one of the most difficult things I had ever done not to stroke off. I mean, it was just so... hard. Tough, I mean. I was alone, clean from a shower, in bed, hard, and horny as hell.

I tossed and turned, trying to sleep. It was almost impossible to sleep. I kept thinking of Mitch. How likely it seemed that he was a homosexual too. How attractive he was. How deeply I was falling for him. How much I wanted him. How happy and safe I wanted to make him feel. The things I wanted to do to and with him.

Somehow, eventually, I did fall asleep.

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