Teamates and Partners

I was second string running back to Kyle for two years. We were also best friends. When Kyle graduated, he decided to “find” himself, an odd 1960’ish concept in the new century. Kyle and I exchanged phone calls, e-mails and letters from various places for the next couple of years. When I graduated, Kyle was ready to go to college, whether he had found himself or not, and I decided to join him in Oxford. Although neither of us were Division I caliber, Kyle seemed to be financially secure, and with a combination of a small trust fund and some small academic scholarships, the out-of-state tuition was not a problem. In fact, I had never wanted to go to LSU, anyway.

In mid-August I drove to the small house Kyle has rented just off of the campus. It was great to see him, a bit slimmer than in his playing days and well-tanned and well-toned. He had gotten all of his gear into a larger, master bedroom, the only furnished room in the house, and helped me with mine. Kyle said the plan was we would share the master bedroom and he would work out of the second, smaller bedroom. When I asked what kind of work he did, Kyle suggested we go pick up some barbecue and beer and talk about that and other matters when we got back.

We had just started eating, when Kyle said he was going to surprise me, and if there were concerns on my part, we’d make other arrangements. It seems that when Kyle was on his journey, he had earned money as a masseur and that he planned on continuing to do so while he was in school. He was characteristically candid and told me that he seldom had a female customer and this his services were not specifically therapeutic.

I was a bit shocked, and I asked Kyle is he were gay. He dated girls in high school, as did I, and we had even shared a couple of girls. I didn’t recall anything sexual about our relationship. To be sure, we had the usual crotch-grabbing, ass-slapping play in the locker room. We had skinny-dipped, with girls, with other guys, by ourselves. We had watched porn videos, with others and by ourselves, dropped our trousers and beaten off, but that was the extent of it. At least, so I recalled until Kyle reminded me about some of the nipple rubbing and pinching, the ass-patting and back-rubbing that had gone on in our threesomes. He even asked, “Didn’t you realize that the finger in your ass when we were with Rita was mine?”

So, Kyle was gay, or bi. I wasn’t. Still, no objection to his plan if it helped pay the rent.

We finished dinner, and Kyle decided to clean up. After his shower, Kyle walked into the kitchen. Naked. No big deal, although that was one fine looking dick he had. I showered and got into bed. Naked. Kyle got into his bed. We beat off and were asleep.

The next day, I got in my truck and Kyle in his. We drove to resale shops and discount furniture stores and lumber yards and set about furnishing the house. Not a bad day’s works, and a pretty good result. That night, I got into the shower first, and Kyle didn’t wait for me to finish. It was all very casual, but with a lot of incidental and not so incidental touching. I don’t mind telling you I was hard fast. Kyle got behind me, reached around me, took my dick into his hand, and said, “May I?” How could I refuse? Before I came, Kyle said, “Finish up.” He removed his hand and used it to stick a long, soapy finger well into my ass. Needless to say, I exploded in seconds. Kyle then pulled, squeezed and drained me. Then, he washed me off. He finished with a nice, firm slap to my ass, put his head on my shoulder and kissed my neck.

So, I am gay or bi.

When we got into our beds, Kyle said he was going to do some painting and decorating in the spare bedroom and in the bathroom, and he asked me if I thought we ought to replace the twin beds with a king-sized one. This was all happening so fast, but it sounded good to me.

The next morning, I went for a run and was pouring coffee when Kyle came in, naked. He had a mischievous look on his face and asked me, “Can I fuck you?” Before I answered, he spun me around, asked me to lean over the table, pulled down my sweaty shorts and entered me. No lube was necessary as I had worked up a good sweat. At first, it was all easy and comfortable. To get hard, he was massaging his nipple with one hand and slapping his dick on my ass with the other. The he entered my virgin ass. No longer all that comfortable. And, as he began to pound, trying to get his full 8″ inside me, I was in pain. Real pain. At the same time, I wanted more, wished he were bigger, thicker. The more he pounded, the harder I got. My dick was bouncing up and down, hitting the underside of the table and growing by the second. Kyle reached around me, holding my waist with his left hand and working my dick with his right. I came before he did. It seemed like the biggest load I had ever had. Then, Kyle came, and my ass began to fill, some overflow already running down my leg. Kyle pulled out, and when he did, I came again. Not a load, but a solid spurt. I was exhausted and set down. Kyle straddled me and kissed me. Softly on the lips, and then some tongue.

Kyle got up and prepared a bath for me, then he carefully bathed me. Lovingly.

When we finished, we began working on the studio. Somehow, the eggplant paint seemed to perk things up. Kyle said, “I know a guy who will pay us well to do that in front of him. Up for it?” I was getting there already.

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