Page 17 of Dickathlon

I pretended for my parents.

Ian was actually my ex-boyfriend, though he had called it ‘a little fun’.

It turned out the fastest way to ruin a friendship was to fall in love with that friend, and then have that friend turn out to be a coward and not be able to admit publicly he committed sexual acts with, and possibly had romantic feelings for, a man.

He wrote me off as an experiment. And it was after I had already said the words.

“I love you.”

Won’t fucking say that again.

But the reason I kept up our charade was because, to my parents, their friends were their family - since our actual nuclear family was just the three of us. My parents were both only children and I was their only child. My dad’s mother passed away when I was three and he never knew his father. My mother’s parents died in a freak train accident when I was in high school.

Even before the settlement from the train derailment, my parents were already wealthy, so I had never wanted for anything. But I was self-motivated and tried to be self-sufficient as soon as I graduated. I wanted to prove that I could take care of myself. Earning a full ride to UCLA certainly helped, and now that I was an Olympic gold medalist, the doors were all there for me to open.

I just had to figure out which ones to try.

But that would come later. I had a Christmas party to half-enjoy.

I traced the pattern in the carved wooden handrail as I descended the staircase in the foyer. It was already full of people I didn’t know. Apparently, I had taken longer to get ready than I thought. At six foot three, I towered above the crowd. I wasn’t sure if it was the height or my looks that got people’s attention, but I did my best to smile and shake hands with everyone that greeted me, though I recognized only a few. It was hard to tell the difference between the people that worked at the hospital with my dad, and my mom’s modeling industry contacts.

This was California. Everyone looked good.

I’ll admit, it was possible I was recognized from the Olympics. After ESPN featured me on the cover of their Athlete of the Year issue, random strangers came up to me a lot more in public. I could still get away with a baseball hat and sunglasses though. I wasn’t Hollywood famous.

“There you are, Declan.”

“Here I am, Mom.”

She pulled at my sleeves, an attempt to straighten them no doubt, and brushed what I was sure was something imaginary off the front. I drew the line when she went to straighten my tie.

“Mom, stop it. I’m good.”

“Alright, alright.” She changed topics. “Did you say hi to Ian yet? He brought his new girlfriend.”

Of course he did.

“Oh, that’s great. I haven’t seen him yet.”

“I wish you had brought a nice boy home for the holidays. Ian seems so happy.”

“I told you already. I don’t have time. I’m less than thirty points from breaking the world record. That’s my focus for the immediate future.”

That was kind of a lie, because my dick was just fine with the assortment of holes it had been offered lately. Not that I was a slut, but since I don’t fuck during comp season, I had taken the opportunity to sow my seed amongst the local, younger-than-me twunk population.

I didn’t have to try very hard either. Every time I went to the clubs, I felt like the spectator at a Mardi Gras parade, and the dudes were the beads. I didn’t go wild or anything. Just enough to satisfy the itch.

“How’s my favorite son?”

I turned toward the familiar voice. “Never gets old, Dad.”

He pulled me in for a hug. “Lookin’ sharp.”

I could easily see I inherited my looks from both of them. My dad was a pediatric surgeon now, but had been a runner in college, like me, and my mom was a retired model.

“Looks like a great party. As always.”

“Oh, you say that every year, honey.”