Chapter 16

I had been so bored over New Year's, I was almost glad to get back to school on the 6th. Much to my relief, my History paper got an A, but I was a little disappointed I couldn't pull an A+, given that I had written nearly 2000 words on the subject -- double the assignment -- and even had a couple of extra Xeroxed pages of pictures to go with it. When I bugged Mr. Harnett about it after class, he rolled his eyes and said, "there is such a thing as overkill, Mr. Larson. Just be happy with your A."

After school at 3:45, I caught up with Sky at Mr. Lucas' office. The coach marched us down the hall and opened up the janitor's door.

"Take this, and start policing the side field," he said to Sky, rolling out a wheeled trash can and a wooden stick with a nail in it. "Pick up every scrap of trash you see, and don't come back until at least 4:45."

Lucas pulled out a bucket and a mop, and set them down in front of me. I stared at them.

"You have seen a mop before, haven't you, Mr. Larson?" he said, sarcastically.

"Sure, Coach," I said, "but I just figured Sky and I could like work together..."

"Gentlemen! This is not a social committee!" he snapped. "For the next two weeks, you're here for some serious punishment. I don't have to remind you -- you flake out on this, and you're suspended for real."

Sky and I meekly nodded.

Lucas pointed at me, then at the bucket. "Wil, take this mop and swab out the six boys' bathrooms on this wing -- upstairs and down. You'll need to empty out the bucket in the drain as you go. Here's a can of cleanser to go with it. I want those floors spic-and-span!"

Sky and I stared at each other.

"Move it!" he yelled.

We both took off in opposite directions.

The work was hard, but not impossible. Every day, we had a new kind of chore to tackle. Normally, I hated manual labor, but at least I got to see Sky for a little while.

On Tuesday, we were both on our hands and knees, scrubbing down the front part of the cafeteria.

"Hey, doofus -- heads up!" Sky yelled, and plopped the brush in the bucket from 20 feet away, sending a splash of water and suds all over my shirt.

"HEY!" I cried. "Watch that, you asshole!"

He laughed. I had to laugh, too. At least it was a fairly warm day, especially for January.

"You haven't told me about Cynthia," he said, swabbing the floor.

"Oh, yeah," I said. "It wasn't all that great."

"You're kidding!" he said, looking up. "That's not what I heard!"

I put down my brush. "What?"

Sky continued scrubbing. "Cyn told Melissa you were fantastic. I figured, well, that you two had gotten along real well."

Yeah, I thought. Real well, like a square peg in a round hole.

"I think maybe... maybe Cyn's not exactly my type, Sky," I said.

"But you did have a good time, right?" he asked, expectantly.

"Sure. I guess." I tried not to look at him, hoping he wouldn't ask for details.

"If Cynthia's not quite your speed," he continued, "Melissa's got another friend I could fix you up with, y' know. That is, if you're interested."

I closed my eyes. I knew what I was really interested in; it was just hard to admit it to myself. I kept scrubbing, then poured some more clean water down to one side.

"Look, Wil," he said. "Lemme know if you wanna... I dunno, double-date or something."

I looked up. "You mean -- go out with you and Melissa? Together?"

"Sure," he nodded. "You and me and Melissa and Ginny."

"Who's Ginny?" I asked.

"Virginia Randall," he explained. "She's real cute, a real brain, too. She's on the school newspaper staff."

"Cool," I said, casually. "Yeah, maybe we could do that sometime."

"A LITTLE LESS TALKING AND A LITTLE MORE CLEANING!" boomed a voice from the back of the cafeteria.

Sky and I looked up to see Coach Lucas at the doorway.

"Gentlemen!" he barked. "You're here for detention, not for conversation. Let's get a move on!"

We both nodded glumly and went back to the task at hand.

By Wednesday, things had fallen more-or-less into a routine. After school, I convinced Sky to let us stay late and train in the workout room for an hour after our trash pick-up detail. The only way I could bribe him was to agree to do some of his homework for him, but at least it'd give me some time to talk to him and hang out together. We both avoided mentioning the incident in the whirlpool.

The workouts were exhausting, but I began to get into it, enjoying the escape from the academic monotony of my day. Sometimes, when I glanced at Sky lifting weights, his muscles glistening in the pale light of the gym, I found myself having to catch my breath. It was torture seeing him like this and not being able to touch him, but I knew that being without Sky would be even worse. It was better to be able to see him this way than not ever see him at all.

Promptly at 6:00PM, Coach Lucas stuck his head into the workout room just as the varsity track team ran behind him, back into the locker room.

"Alright, gentlemen!" he yelled, clapping his hands for our attention. "Gym's closin' up. Re-rack your weights, and hit the showers. We'll open back up at 7AM tomorrow."

Everybody groaned and reluctantly put their weights back on the stands. I did six more reps on the leg-extension machine, then struggled to my feet and followed Sky out the door. My thighs and calves hurt like hell, but I knew the workouts would ultimately improve my swimming performance.

"Wil! I need to talk to you for a second, son."

I looked up, and it was Coach Lucas in the side corridor, near the gym office.

"What's up, Coach?" I asked, still a little out of breath from my work-out.

He looked around to make sure no one else was listening. "Wil, you and I never talked about what happened here a couple of weeks ago."

I froze. He couldn't possibly know what'd happened with me and Scott.

"N-n-no, we didn't, Coach," I mumbled, looking away, and trying desperately to sound as innocent as I could.

"Was Scott Michaels with you when you were here working out?"

"No," I said, almost truthfully. "The gym was empty the whole time."

"And you left at what time?"

"Oh, I think it was maybe 5:00," I said, casually.

"And you didn't see anyone else here?" he asked.

I thought for a minute, trying to make my story sound logical. "Now that I think about it, I might have seen Chuck just as I was leaving," I said. "In fact, I just remembered, I said goodnight to him as I left," I added, trying to weave that little fact in.

Coach nodded. "Okay. It's not a big deal."

"Uh, Coach," I asked, as he started to leave. "Scott's gonna be okay, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah. He'll be back at school tomorrow," Lucas explained. "He won't be able to play on the team because of his arm, but he'll be okay. It's no secret that the school board is all over us because of this injury." The coach looked at me carefully. "Wil, do me a favor. I want you to forget that I ever told you that you could work out without supervision."

So that's what this is all about, I thought. "No problem, Coach," I nodded.

"From now on, that rule is etched in stone," he said, seriously. "You work out with somebody from your team, or one of our staff."

"Or Sky," I said, quietly.

"Yeah. Thanks, Wil," he said, giving me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He turned and went back into the gym office.

Just as I was walking back down the hall to the locker room, I stopped and saw Sky by our locker. He was nude, walking towards the other corridor to the shower, towel in hand.

"Hey!" he yelled. "Move your ass, muscle-man!"

I grinned. "On my way!"

I couldn't take my eyes off him as he strutted confidently down the hall and into the shower doorway. He looked more like a Greek god than ever, I thought.

Suddenly, I realized there was someone next to me breathing heavily. Chuck.

I gave him a nod. "Hey, Chuck," I said, quietly.

"Hey," he said, still watching Sky walk away.

I walked over to my locker and quickly disrobed. I wrapped my towel around my waist and looked up, but Chuck was gone. Just as well, I thought, nervously.

Thursday, I had just dumped my tray in the cafeteria when Sky and Melissa came over. I felt a jealous wave pass through me, then I let it go and put on the best smiling face I could.

"Hi, you guys!" I said, looking up. "Wish me luck at the meet on Saturday."

"I heard," gushed Melissa. "You're doing -- what? -- butterfly, right?"

I shook my head. "Breaststroke," I said. "Coach said I needed some more work on Butterfly before he wanted to put me in the race. But at least I'm there in Breast."

Sky leaned over and whispered to me, "I never woulda figured you for a breast man, Wil!" he giggled.

I rolled my eyes, then laughed.

"What was that?" said Melissa, suspiciously.

"I'm just givin' him some pointers on the race, Mel'," Sky said with a grin.

We walked out of the cafeteria together and next to the school music complex next door. Several students were playing a radio just outside the building -- it was The Beatles' "Hello, Goodbye," one of my favorites from the year before.

Sky had his arm around Melissa. He looked up at me.

"Hey, man," he said. "We've gotta go. See you after school, in detention!"

"Goodbye, Wil!" called Melissa.

"You say goodbye... and I say hello!" I sang. I immediately launched into the song, and Sky and Melissa stopped and laughed. The other students looked up at me and grinned, and we all started singing together. I went into my best Paul McCartney impression.

 

	"I say high you say low I say why and you say I don't know... ohhhh... Oh, no... You say goodbye and I say hello... Hello, hello! I don't know why you say goodbye I say hello."

"There he goes again!" laughed Sky, punching me affectionately on the shoulder.

I grinned back, then sang the final chorus.

 

	"Hey, la... hey, hello! (Hey, la!) Hey, la... hey, hello!"

The song ended, and we all laughed. Melissa put her arm around me. "You really should sing more, Wil," she said.

"You're not bad," agreed Sky. "Not as good as Paul, but probably the closest we're gonna get here in school."

I laughed. Melissa turned to me. "Have you ever thought about trying out for chorus, Wil?"

I shook my head. "No, no -- I'm just an amateur," I protested. "Besides, I'm already too tied up with swimming."

"That's only until March, right?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. But my class schedule is already crowded as it is."

"Well, think about it, anyway," she said. "I'm positive that Mr. Guccino, the chorus director, would really appreciate your voice."

The bell rang, and we went on to our next classes. I continued humming the Beatles song in my head for the next hour.

By 6th period English, I was still mulling over what Melissa had said. Maybe she was right. Maybe I could get into singing at school. I glanced at the clock. I was bored silly in English. I felt like I knew most of the material already. Maybe I could find a way out of the class.

At the bell, I stopped by Mrs. Kester's desk.

"Yes, Wil?" she asked, looking up.

I explained my dilemma. "Is there some way I can get out of English -- maybe exempt it or something?"

She thought for a moment, then nodded. "You're one of my best students, William," she said, reluctantly. "I'd hate to see you drop my class, but yes -- if you can pass the equivalency test for the year, you can exempt English." She handed me a form for my folks to sign. "Bring this back in," she said, "and we'll get it scheduled."

Great, I thought. At least this way, I could avoid having to let Sky cheat off my paper again. And I could still help him study, if he got desperate.

That afternoon, after another round of picking up trash from the track area, Sky and I headed home in his father's car. "Your lenses came in, Wil," said Dr. Jones, holding up a small box. "Let's stop by the clinic, and I'll give you a quick fitting. It'll only take a few minutes."

We drove by his office, and in a matter of minutes, I was gazing at my face in the mirror. For the first time in about six years, I could actually see without glasses on my face. The effect was startling.

"Wow," I said, turning my head back and forth in the mirror. "They actually work!"

"See, I told ya," said Sky, who grinned and put his hand on my shoulder.

I looked at our two faces in the mirror. Well, not quite beauty and the beast, I thought, but certainly beauty and the so-so face.

"If you can't get dates now, then I'd say you'll have to shoot yourself," he giggled.

I winced. "I guess now you're gonna force me to meet this 'Ginny' person, right?" I asked.

"Virginia's great," he replied. "You'll really like her. She's real smart, I swear."

"Yeah," I said, "but how does she look?"

"Like I said," he continued, "she's real smart."

Oh great, I thought. I get to go out with a dog.

Sky saw my expression and laughed.

On Friday afternoon, I was feeling a little better about our after-school punishment. Maybe I was finally getting used to doing a little manual labor. I didn't mind hard work, like studying or swimming laps, but this hands-and-knees stuff was something I'd never had to do before. I had to admit, though, I felt a strange feeling of accomplishment to look back at the floor of one of the rooms we finished, knowing that we'd actually done something. Never mind that it'd be dirty again in about three days.

Coach had separated us again and I was hard at work by myself, scrubbing the tile floor of the upstairs boys' bathroom in the B-Wing building. Man, this place was a pigsty. I wondered if half the guys who used it ever actually got their piss in the bowl, rather than on the floor. This was gross, I thought, as I emptied the bucket in the sink.

Feeling the urge, I got up, put down my brush, and walked over to one of the nearby urinals. I unzipped my fly and let a long stream cascade out onto the porcelain. I was exhausted. This shit was really hard work. I now had a lot more respect for the poor janitors that had to take care of this dump, that's for sure. I rested my head momentarily down on the chrome pipe. I couldn't wait to get home today, I thought. At least I had the weekend to look forward to.

Suddenly, I was conscious of another stream splashing down the urinal to my left. I looked up, and there was Scott Michaels. His left arm was in a sling, and he had a small bandage on the upper right side of his forehead. My heart stopped.

"Scott! I... I..." I stammered and tripped backwards on my empty bucket, then fell down on the floor.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you. Just a call of nature," he said, casually, as he zipped himself up. "Lemme give you a hand," he said, holding out his good right arm.

I let him pull me back up, but stared at him with a combination of fear and hatred. Several uncomfortable moments passed.

"I haven't seen you around school much," I said, turning away and reaching for my brush and bucket.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I was hurt pretty bad. Listen, I... I wanted to talk to you, Wil."

I felt the blood rush to my face. "I don't wanna talk to you, Scott," I said, angrily, as I refilled the bucket with water. "Just get the fuck away from me."

"Wait. Please -- lemme just say something." He leaned on the wall next to me. "I know you won't believe me, but... I'm really sorry for what happened. I was really fucked-up."

Better to be fucked-up than fucked, I thought to myself.

Scott looked down at the floor. I could see he was trying to gather up his courage. "I was out for a couple of hours," he began. "After I came to at the hospital, the doctors told me they figured out that I'd been... having anal sex for awhile," he said, quietly. "I tried to deny it, but I eventually had to tell 'em who'd been doing it to me."

I looked up at him, my expression softening.

"This was all my stepdad's fault," he continued, with a choke. "He'd been doin' it to me for six years, since I was a little kid. I couldn't stop him."

I felt stunned. I nodded and put my brush down.

"He's in jail now," Scott said, tears beginning to roll down his face. "My mom's gonna divorce him. It's not gonna make the papers. He pled guilty, and they're keeping it all quiet. Nobody else knows about it."

"Jesus," I said, quietly. "I'm really sorry, Scott."

"Yeah," he said, fighting back the tears. "So am I."

We both stood silently, trying not to look at each other. Finally, I got back down and started scrubbing the floor again.

Scott took a step towards me. I flinched, and he stopped. "They've got me seein' a shrink now. I'm... I'm workin' some stuff out, y' know?"

I nodded, but continued scrubbing.

"I swear, Wil," he said. "Never again. I hope you can forgive me."

I closed my eyes. "I didn't tell anybody, did I?" I said. "Your secret's safe with me."

"I know," he said, softly. "You could've, but you didn't. I swear, I'll... I'll make it up to you someday."

"Yeah." I stood up, picked up the bucket, and emptied it out in the sink. "Look, uh, Scott... I got work to do."

He nodded. "'Kay. See ya around, Wil. And thanks."

I didn't answer, but continued filling up the bucket. He left the bathroom, and the automatic hinges slowly shut the door. I looked up in the mirror at my face, and was surprised to see a couple of tears near my right eye.

Fucking asshole, I thought, as I wiped my face, then got back down on my hands and knees, and continued scrubbing.

Seconds later, the door burst open.

"Wil!" yelled Sky. "There you are! Are you okay, man?" he asked, with a trace of concern in his voice.

"Yeah," I said, giving the floor one last touch-up. "I'm just about done here."

"I saw that asshole Scott Michaels going down the hallway, but he made it downstairs before I could stop him."

I nodded my head. "Yeah, he was here," I said. "Leave him alone. He's got his own problems."

Sky put his hand on my shoulder. "Listen, man," he said, quietly. "Me and a couple of the guys from the team... we could take care of him, if you want." He looked at me with an expression of utter seriousness.

"No, Sky," I said. "Let him go."

"I mean it." He stared at me, unblinking.

"Thanks, Sky," I said, finally. "But let's just forget about it."

He nodded and took his hand from my shoulder. "Okay, Wil," he said. "Whatever you say. Look, let's get outta here. It's almost 5:00, and my Dad's comin' by to pick us up. He's gonna let me drive home, now that I've got my learner's permit. Isn't that cool?"

"Yeah," I said. "Real cool."

Sky actually turned out to be a pretty good driver. His dad winced as his son made a few sharper-than-normal turns, but other than that, the trip back to my place was pretty smooth. By the time we pulled up in the driveway, I actually started feeling a little jealous. I wouldn't be able to get even a learner's permit for at least six more months. Shit, I thought. It seemed like a lifetime away.

I cursed God for making me born two years after everybody else. Sky ran up beside me as I walked up the porch steps.

"So, you wanna do somethin' on Saturday?" he asked.

I shook my head. "This is the height of the swimming season, Sky," I said. "I've been on second-string for four months now, and I've got my first real meet tomorrow afternoon. I've got practice first thing in the morning. Coach's got me in the 200-yard medley relay, and I've gotta concentrate on that. After the race is over, I'll probably keel over dead from all the stress."

Sky nodded, but I could clearly see he was disappointed. "Melissa and I still want you to meet Ginny," he said.

I rolled my eyes. "I don't have any time to date right now, Sky!" I whined.

"Call me on Sunday, then," he said, bounding down the steps.

"You gonna come see me swim tomorrow?" I yelled.

Sky flashed me a grin. "I wouldn't miss it, man!" he yelled back. He got in the driver's seat and slowly backed out of the driveway.

By the time the weekend rolled around, dating was the last thing on my mind. Saturday morning, the coach had us do laps for a couple of hours, then gave us last-minute instructions for the relays we were going to be doing that afternoon. It was the first big meet in which I'd been asked to participate, after languishing on second-string since the start of the season.

I was assigned Breaststroke for the 200-meter relay, which meant I was 2nd in the team line-up. Backstroke was first, followed by Breast, then Butterfly, then Freestyle. The coach knew we had to pick up speed in the first two, since our team still wasn't too strong in Butterfly. Luckily for us, neither was our opponent. On the second trial run, I hit my best time ever. Coach Byers shook my hand as I pulled myself out of the water.

"Excellent, Larson!" he said. "36.2 seconds! That's the third-fastest time for 50-meter Breast stroke in the history of the school. You're really comin' along, young man."

I nodded. "How soon before the meet starts, coach?" I asked.

"Not until 2PM," he replied. "We've got lunch in ten minutes, and then I want you men to take a break. No sense getting you all worked up. Just take it easy. I'll be back at my office in the other building until 1PM if you need me."

He blew his whistle. "That's it for practice, guys," he yelled. "Be back here at 1:30, sharp. We stand a good chance of beating Plant High on this one, and I don't wanna see us lose the match on any technicalities."

We all nodded, then went back to the locker room. Three or four other guys were at their lockers, talking in the background. I sat down at my bench, pulled out the English exam book, and started perusing it. My folks had agreed to let me take the equivalency test next week, and if I could pass it, I'd get out of taking English -- possibly for 10th grade as well as 9th, if I was lucky.

Billy Peterson, the team captain, came by and slapped me on the back.

"Larson!" he said, laughing. "You've always got your nose stuck in a book!"

I grinned. "Yeah. I guess it seems that way."

"Hey," he said. "You okay on breaststroke?"

"Ready as ever," I said, nodding.

"I'm up first, on backstroke," said the team captain, "so don't forget to wait until I touch the wall. If you dive in early..."

"I know, I know," I said, waving my hands up in the air. "I'll foul the whole event. That won't happen, I promise."

Billy grinned. "I know you won't let us down."

The older teen began peeling off his Speedos, and I tried to look away. As he toweled down, continuing to talk about the upcoming race, I glanced over. I was shocked to see he was shaved totally smooth, all over his crotch! I immediately felt my heart pound, and blood surged to my groin.

Billy suddenly stopped talking when he saw my face, staring right into his lap.

"Oh, I guess you noticed -- I shaved for the meet today," he laughed.

"Jesus, Billy!" I said, adjusting my suit. "What'd you do that for?"

"It was a big thing with the Olympic guys last year," he said. "You know, every tenth of a second counts in these meets. If shaving off our body hair makes us even that much faster, and we win the race, then it's worth it."

"I still say it can't make any difference, Bill," called out Aaron, one of the other swimmers nearby. "It's not scientific at all."

Billy laughed. "Hey, if I feel faster, than I'm gonna be faster, right?"

I nodded. That was hard to argue with, I thought.

"And besides," he said, displaying his equipment proudly. "It does look kinda cool, huh?"

"Yeah," I said, trying not to look. "I guess so."

"And it makes it look bigger, too," he said, giving me a wink. "Not that all of us need that."

I winced. "Somehow, I don't think shaving would help me all that much," I replied.

"You never know, Wil," he said, grinning. "Maybe you should try it."

A couple of the other guys came in. "Hey, look at this -- Billy's now Mister Smooth!"

He put up with the razzing for a few seconds, then held up his hands. "Hey, guys -- I'm tryin' out for a scholarship to Florida State, so don't give me any shit."

The rest of my teammates nodded. Billy was the best swimmer on the team, no question. If any of us had even a micron of a chance to get a college swimming scholarship, Billy was the one.

"You think it really makes a difference?" asked Carl, one of the other seniors. "You know -- shaving?"

"Who cares?" said Billy, flexing his muscles and letting his bare jewels flop down on the bench next to me. "If it makes me feel faster, then it's worth it."

Carl nodded. "I'm game. Anybody else wanna join me?"

My face blanched. You mean, they were gonna... shave? Right here?

"Count me in!" said Mark, to my right.

"Me, too," said Joe, who was our top freestyle champ.

"I still say it's stupid," muttered Aaron. Joe punched him in the arm. "Okay, okay, I'll do it," Aaron said, grumbling.

The six swimmers looked over at me.

"Gee, guys, I dunno," I said, looking down.

"All for one and one for all!" Billy yelled, and grabbed me under my arms.

"Wait a minute!" I yelled, dropping my book. Joe held me up by my legs, and I was powerless to stop them.

Laughing, they pulled me down the hall and into the shower. Before I knew it, we were all standing in a row, pulling off our Speedos and lathering up our groins. I reluctantly pulled down my suit and hung it on the shower tap behind me.

"Holy shit, man," whistled Barry, a good-looking Freshman on my left. He, Mark and I were the only 9th graders on the team.

"Told ya so," said Mark, snickering.

Even Billy looked impressed. "Did anybody ever tell you that you have..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. A donkey dick," I muttered.

"...actually," Billy continued, grinning, "I was gonna say, 'an engaging smile,' but now that you mention it..."

They laughed. This time, I laughed with them, relieved. For once, I could see I wasn't the butt of any jokes.

"C'mon, Wil. For the team," Billy said, holding out a razor and a can of shaving cream. He looked at me expectantly. All five of them grinned at me.

I took the razor and looked down. Mediocre as my pubes were, it'd taken me almost a year to get that little growth of hair. I hated to lose it, but... I started scraping the top of my groin, and the other guys cheered. I even went to the sides, getting the light hairs on my thighs.

"Legs, too," ordered Billy.

I sighed, letting the warm shower water run over my body, and ran the blade up and down my legs, getting the scant peach fuzz there. To my right, Joe was just finishing shaving his underarms. I checked mine, but they were already smooth. Kyle took the longest, since he had patches of hair scattered around his chest. In less than a minute, it was all gone, followed closely by the tufts of hair on his stomach and groin.

When we were all finally finished, I looked up. Jesus. We looked like a team of mutated pre-adolescents. Two of the swimmers were already stiff at attention, looking at me and grinning. Mark was starting to stroke himself, and Billy gave me a big smile.

"Now that you're officially in the meet, it's time to initiate you," he said.

"Good idea, Billy," said Aaron, who was the current Butterfly record-holder. He had a wicked smile on his face.

Shit, I thought. I hated the sound of that.

"First guy to cum has to buy dinner after the meet," said Billy, stroking himself to full arousal.

My endowment quickly stiffened to its full length, and I turned to join the group. We formed a circle at one end of the shower. Mark squirted some liquid soap out of a dispenser and handed some to me.

"Don't be in a hurry," he advised. "Last one to shoot, wins."

I grinned and soaped myself up. The others were already lost in thought, fondling themselves and slowly moving their fists up and down their shafts.

"Ohhhhhh," Mark moaned. His left shoulder was practically touching mine, and he was staring down at my crotch. I followed his gaze, and felt my heart race. If anything, my penis looked even bigger than ever, now that my groin was completely denuded of hair. I reached down, grabbed my balls with my other hand, and started stroking harder.

In less than a minute, Joe started groaning. "Shit, guys!" he panted, as several white spurts shot across the shower and into the drain. "I guess that means I lose." Mark was right behind him, followed a minute later by Kyle and Barry.

Now it was up to me, Billy, and Aaron. The three of us stared at each other. I hesitated trying to do anything special, like rubbing my hands over my chest; I figured that would be too much of a tip-off to the other guys. I kept my eyes averted and forced myself to slow down, just as RJ had shown me back at Rick and Ronnie's place a few weeks ago.

"Ohhhh," moaned Aaron, to my right.

I glanced over at him. He had a good-size erection, no question -- probably at least 8 inches, I thought. I grinned at him, then reached down and began jacking myself with both hands. His eyes widened, and he immediately groaned and erupted several huge spurts, far more than I'd ever seen before.

"Man, you just about exploded, Aaron!" called Mark, laughing.

I looked up at Billy. His back was to the shower, and drips of water trickled down his smooth, muscular chest.

He looked me in the face. I could see he was holding back as best he could, but he was breathing heavily. His muscular arm rocked back and forth, and I stared at the veins in his bicep, and the deep ab ridges in his muscular stomach. Shit, I thought. He was even bigger than Sky.

I couldn't stop myself. I began speeding up my thrusts, tightening my grip and plunging my arousal through my fists, faster and faster. Again, I felt the tell-tale warning signs. I reached up and tweaked my nipple and moaned. It was now or never. Just as I felt myself unload, Billy cried out, and we both came almost simultaneously. Mark had to jump out of the way, to avoid getting hit by my ejaculation. An instant after the surge of pleasure left my body, I leaned back against the wall and let the shower wash over me, rinsing off the soap and goo from my hands. I panted and felt a little embarrassed.

The other swimmers applauded. "That was great, man," said Joe, clapping me on the back. "Fuckin' cool, Wil," said Aaron. "For a 2nd-string freshman, that is," he grinned.

I laughed and nodded.

"I'd call that a tie, wouldn't you Billy?" said Kyle.

"A photo-finish," said Billy, still panting. He stuck out his hand out to me, and we shook. "Congratulations, Wil. You're cool in my book."

As it turned out, we did even better in the meet than we did in the shower room. Billy set a new state record for individual 100-meter Backstroke, and I picked up nearly half a second in Breaststroke for the relay. Joe cinched it with Freestyle, and we all clapped him soundly on the back when he pulled himself out of the water. The small crowd roared their approval.

We all hugged each other and waved at the audience. From a distance, I saw Sky waving back. I felt a huge wave of happiness, knowing that my best friend had witnessed our victory.

"See, what'd I tell ya," said Billy to the rest of us. "I think the shaving down is what put us over the top."

"Either that, or jacking-off," I whispered.

Billy turned to me and gave me a peculiar expression. "That's just for special occasions," he said. "We're not a buncha homos, Wil."

I shook my head and looked away, embarrassed.

"Hey, Wil!" called Sky from the side. I grabbed my towel and ran over to the audience seats.

"You were fuckin' great, man!" he said, shaking my hand and slapping my shoulder.

"Thanks," I said, beaming. "Coach says they're gonna keep me in Breaststroke for the rest of the season."

"Cool. Listen, I gotta go. Melissa's waitin' for me."

I nodded. "See you tomorrow, maybe?" I asked.

"I can't. Dad's takin' us out tomorrow to buy us a new boat," he said, excitedly. It's gonna be really cool, and he's gonna teach me how to run it and everything."

"Sounds neat."

"Take it easy, Wil!" Sky yelled, as he waved and ran off.

I trotted across the wet concrete and back into the locker room, and got dressed. The guys took me out for a victory celebration at Shakey's Pizza, where the other teammates happily stuck Joe with the check.

"The homo's gotta pay!" they chortled.

Homo, I thought?

"Yeah, Joe! You lost the shower game," reminded Kyle.

Mark turned to me and grinned. "I heard Joe always loses," he said, whispering. "I think he likes the game more than the swim meets."

I nodded and tried to laugh, but I felt too miserable inside. I'd liked the game, too. It was the most sex I'd had all month. Maybe I was doomed to just be by myself, I thought.
 
   
 

© 2001, John Francis