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His cock flexes against mine, as if desperate to be freed from the skintight, confining spandex of its singlet.
Mine flexes right back, as if in direct reply.
Our faces are too close. Did I already mention that? His lips are right there before me. His eyes are on mine, brilliantly blue and aching. His every gentle, uneven breath caresses my face.
Is something about to happen?
Why am I so terrified suddenly?
“I, uh …” And then I start to nervously ramble on. “I used to, um … sneak peeks into the gym. Into this gym.”
“Yeah?”
He sounds interested. Keep talking. “When I was hanging with my Theatre friends across the hall in the big auditorium. Like that one time I got to work on costumes for a show. Junior year, I think. Or maybe my sophomore year. I would sneak up to the doors, and—”
“Those doors?” he says with the tiniest of nods upward.
“Yeah, those ones, with the windows,” I confirm without even looking. “Anyway, this one time when I peeked in, I was shocked to find all of you—the whole wrestling team—lined up in several rows, on the ground. Each of you were bent backward and holding a very strenuous position. You all were face-up, but with your pelvises and shoulders lifted off the ground by your hands and feet, like some kind of crab or reverse plank or something …”
“Bridge,” he says, supplying a name for it. “It’s bridging.”
“And you were all in your wrestling singlets, and … all of your crotches were, like …” I nearly squirm, reimagining it. “They were all pointing … well, upwards. All of you were straining to hold the position while your coach yelled at you, walking up and down the rows. I could see blood rushing to your heads, since they were basically upside-down, and your thighs were all bulging as you strained to keep your pelvises and shoulders off the ground …”
“Yeah. Coach used to make us do that for punishment,” Chad explains. “But it also built up our stamina.”
His cock flexes against mine again.
I swallow hard, my heart beating fast.
“So?” Chad lifts his eyebrows expectantly. “What about it?”
“Well …” I can remember it vividly. I jerked off to what I saw in that wrestling gym—in this wrestling gym—for so many weeks after that first day. Months, even. “I … I remember looking and … I swear I saw that one of you was … was hard.”
“Huh? No way.”
“I did,” I insist. “While holding that position, that strenuous, painful position … it must have been ten whole minutes I stood there at those windows in the gymnasium doors, peeking in … I saw one of the wrestlers with the biggest, hardest boner. I mean, it was kind of a restrained sort of erection, being clad in a skintight singlet and all.”
Chad lets out an abrupt chuckle. “You were creepin’ on us.”
“A lonely gay dude in high school, sure. A creep? No. I’ve met many a creep in LA, trust me. That day, I was lonely and … horny.”
“Horny?”
His cock flexes even more aggressively.
Without meaning to, mine throbs right back at his.
My eyes shut as I suppress a moan.
I’m seriously afraid to check whether either of us are leaking and making unseemly stains in these school-property singlets.
It’s been a while for me.
I don’t know how long it’s been for him.
I suddenly feel like an oversexed teenager again, afraid I could easily humiliate myself by exploding in my pants, unable to help my own out-of-control libido for one more second.
It could literally happen.
There is very, very, very little material between my throbbing cock and Chad’s right now.
“What are we doing?” I ask suddenly, my eyes flapping open.
Chad swallows before he answers. “Wrestling.”
“That doesn’t appear to be what we’re doing right now.”
“Well, of course not, dummy. Ya got me pinned.”
“And hard,” I add.
“So you wanna go another round, then? I think we’re tied. One more round, sudden death, to see who’s the damn winner.”
“I’m not keeping score. You win.”
He chuckles at me. “Lance …”
“Maybe we need to—” Chad flexes his cock again, interrupting me. “—change and get back to the reunion. I’m pretty sure—” He flexes it again. “—everyone by now is wondering where we went.”
“So? What’s the hurry?”
“If we don’t make a decision now,” I answer him, “one or both of us are about to jizz in a pair of high school wrestling singlets that most certainly do not belong to us.”
He takes a deep breath as his eyes stay on mine. There is so much in those blue infinity pools of his that he isn’t saying. It is as scary as it is intoxicating, to stare into them and wonder what the hell he’s thinking.
“You know, Lance, I don’t wanna keep you from reconnectin’ with all your friends. You are, after all, the visitor here.”
After a thought, I find I realize the point he’s trying to make already. “I’ve … pretty much seen everyone I want to.”
