Centers on two seniors in a LGBT private school. The wrestling team captain, and the new kid.
Around me the school gym gleamed as though every inch of it had been glossed recently. Though the smaller of the school’s two indoor gymnasiums, it was still more impressive than anything I encountered before transferring. The slats in the basketball court were clean and polished, illuminated by dozens of the bright lights which hung from a violently red ceiling. The rows of bleachers on other side were spaced in three segments, each separated by stairs. Black made up the background of the seats, but each section was also stamped with a giant red – the same red as the ceiling - letter. Had they been empty of smirking boys, the stands would have read S-S-A.
St. Sebastian Academy. As it was an upper school, however, and this this 2015, most people just called it Seb High.
There was red, white, and black everywhere in the gym. On the walls, seats, goals, court, and ceiling, along with decals of Greg – the school’s mean looking bear of a mascot – painted in the middle of the court. All these details culminated into two facts for me, my school was new and well-funded. In my experience, schools never had enough teachers, money, space, healthy food, diverse courses and extracurricular and a corrupt school board. Need I continue? I was excited to start training and wrestling in such a place. I mean, it’s a high school with an actual endowment, how cool is that?
A lot of luster faded from the penny when I found out I was expected to wrestle the team captain on my very first day.
There was a lot of confidence and surprising lack of swagger in Blu as he strode up to the mat. Even from such a brief introduction, I could see as much. He was the team captain of course, and if I – the new kid – wished to join his team this apparent ritual needed to be conducted. It was to be brief introductory duel, so the coach and captain alike could assess you strengths and weakness. But my nervousness made it feel more like and entry exam, or a hazing.
“…so he can test whatcha got.” Coach Fell’s words punctuated my thoughts. The rest of the team peppered the bleachers, all of them grinning at the newcomer’s – my - expense. Evidently the captain welcomed new players to the team in such an embarrassing fashion often, which caused even more hesitation. I was about two inches taller than Blu and in a heavier weight class, an advantage that should give me some degree of comfort and it had...for all of five seconds. The boy stepping up to me now, I since learned, was a senior who won three state wrestling championships for himself and the team, and was gunning for his fourth. University coaches from across the country were vying for him after graduation, and I even heard murmurs of Olympic potential from some of the other boys.
Of course, they could simple be toying with me, trying to psych me out, but the state trophies and plaques shone in the display case just off the entrance to the gym. The name Bluford Wilder stamp upon a large portion of them. And, more importantly, those rumors were easy to believe because the man was impressive to behold. The crimson singlet he wore stretched over a tight physique in a way to revealed all the valleys of his muscle tone. He was built for power, and it was easy to see the discipline in his demeanor and physicality. Yet for such a sports ‘star’ there was no ego that I could find, only an intense focus that visibly intimidated me. Blu’s eyes, a warm brown that might have softened any other person, skewered me. They communicated that, even though it was just a friendly scrimmage, there would be no mercy for the new kid.
I gulped, put in my mouth guard, and stepped inside the boundary line.
Trying not to pity himself too much, I hunkered down just as Coach’s whistle blew. For a strategy, I decided to play it safe for the first round and let my opponent come to me while I tested the waters. Blu, evidently, had other plans and decided to throw me into the deep end headfirst. He came at me like, well like Greg the Grizzly. The other boys were already hooting and screaming, and my face was already on the mat.
In seconds, Blu swung around, jammed his shoulder into the back of my right knee, scooped the remaining leg from underneath me, and swept me out of the boundary line like yesterday’s trash. It all happened so quickly I barely even registered the beep of Coach’s whistle. The gym filled with laughter and catcalling, all of which I took in stride. By the time we reset and the whistle blew again, I was more focused and determined not to make an ass of myself. I was ready for any gimmicks this time, but it appeared Blu expected me to be, and he didn’t try for a second time. Instead, he towed the boundary, circling his prey and assessed. I did the same, and remained watchful.
Again, with startling speed, Blu attacked first, this time from the front. We met head on in a tie, with Blu trying to meet me – the larger - me pound for pound. Perhaps he was trying to see just how strong he was in comparison to a heavier opponent, because I was the biggest currently in the gym – including the coach. This, he quickly released was a mistake, since he seemed to underestimate how quick I really was. Too quick, in fact, for such a direct approach to work. Instead of taking me down, Blu found himself pressed against the mat by my bulk. He hadn’t acted rapidly enough to tie my hands and wrists and now he was in trouble as a result.
Trying to capitalize on my newfound advantage, I quickly stepped in and pivoted so our heads pointed in the same direction. I went in for the takedown but Blu would not stop moving. My chest on Blu’s back, I found that trying to pin this opponent down was akin to hugging a ball of wriggling and angry snakes. If I could just lock down Blu’s legs it would be all over…and I nearly did it too. But before I could complete the move, Blu – red faced from his ardent struggle – squirmed from underneath me and popped back onto his feet, ready to try a new approach.
I, more slowly as the scrap had winded me, also got to my feet and was surprised to see Blu slide between my legs in a move straight out of an 80s action movie sequence. He was again using his smaller size and speed to his advantage which, I’m a little embarrassed to admit, spelled the end for me. Before I could so much a turn around, my knees were once again swept from under me and Blu was on top. We were now in the reverse position than before, with his hard body on mine. I sensed a flickered of hesitation as something changed in him, however, but failed to capitalize because – I think- I felt the same flash of emotion. His body was like stone warmed by the sun, and as he controlled my wrists I distinctly felt his crotch in the cleft of my ass.
He felt it too.
It was over for me though and Coach blew the whistle again. There was clapping and cheering and the boy filled out of the stands and joined us on the court. For a moment I thought Blu wouldn’t get up. He lay on top of me, his breath brushing against my nape. It smelled like cinnamon toothpaste. I knew he was aroused, I felt it press against me, and I knew he knew I reciprocated the sentiment. Inevitably, however, he rolled and jump to his feet. Spry as ever.
“You got quick feet.” The team captain said. He made a point to help me up, shake my hand, and clap me on the back with encouragement. I expected him to have some testosterone fueled grumble of a voice, but it was actually a pleasant tenor. “If he lets me work with him, Coach, I think we can sharpen that…add some agility to all this bulk. You’ve got some scary power, dude, I just knew I was done for in that second bout.” The hand on my back gripped the meat of my shoulder and massaged gently, just as something appreciative flashed in Blu eyes…something that made I blush. There I was, a loser (and not just a loser, but a loser who lost in mere seconds), and I was basking in praise like I won. So he was both encouraging and relentless, it was easy to see why he was team captain.
“What do you think? Hulks don’t need lunch do they?” I smiled, perhaps a bit sheepishly, at the nickname. The attention was starting to make me feel embarrassed.
“They do if they want to stay in the two twenty weight class.” I replied.
“Fair point. The rest of us, mostly, went to the training camp we hosted this last summer…so I we’ll have to catch you up during free periods then.” As the conversation continued, I was vibrantly aware of the fact of that hand didn’t leave his body. He massaged and rubbed just above my shoulder blade and nobody but me seemed to notice or care. Down his hand slowly went, leaving a trail of electricity wherever it touched until it parked just in the small of my back. Somehow, losing to him made Blu even more distracting and attractive that he already was, and the simple gesture was starting to make it difficult for him to concentrate and Coach’s notes for the day.
“Peck you’re with me, the rest of you hit the showers.”
“Um, I’m sorry Coach but…what?”
“I said come on, my office. Hustle!” Coach repeated.
“Dude, you just dove threw his legs like you think you’re Jackie Chan or some shit…I’m like, 95% sure you two choreographed that little show so you can keep your cred.” Someone said amid the steady prickle of water hitting tile. Everyone laughed.
By the time paperwork and school sports/academic policy reviews – thrilling stuff – Coach had to go over with me was finished, the locker was humid and warm. Steam billowed, obscuring the taut bodies of my new teammates as I cautiously probed the yet explored area, wondering if I should just sneak out and shower in my dorm to hide my embarrassment. Before I could chicken out, thankfully, Blu spotted me (for the rows of chrome showerheads were within the view of the entrance) and made the decision for me.
“Hey, it’s Bruce Banner!” He said, with no hint of mockery. “Tell these idiots that we’ve never met before today.” He said. I turned back around and approached the showers. They were slightly raised from the rest of the locker room, which was now littered with singlets, random bits of gear, and open sport bags. It was a relatively large and open area with the same red and black motif as the gym, not unlike locker room showers in other schools. Perhaps a bit a cleaner.
“Yo, Davis, gimme some of that shampoo…I like the way that smells.” I recognized the comedian’s voice again, and watched as strode toward the source of this shampoo.
“I swear under penalty of oath that you all witnessed my humiliation in real time. No rehearsals were needed for such a stunning defeat.” My voice was solemn and clipped, like a witness taking the stand. It got a few chuckles from those who were listening to me, which helped me relax.
That’s when I allowed myself to actually look at the boys of Seb High’s Varsity wrestling team, and the first thing I noticed was how comfortable they all were with each other. Although, maybe comfortable wasn’t the right word for it, because while I watched - mouth slightly agape – Davis began massaging the comedian’s scalp with his shampoo, rather than place a dollop in his palm. Meanwhile, the comedian kept on scrubbing and chatting like it was nothing to him. I didn’t know if they were together or what, but they weren’t the only ones sharing wash duty.
“Dude, don’t even sweat it. Last year he folded me like laundry…and I’m pretty sure Tommy actually cried during his trial.”
“Fuck off, Zen!” Said someone who was apparently Tommy. “I just got a bit misty eyed, that’s all.” So there was Zen, Tommy, Davis, and Blu so far. The play banter continued, and I found myself staring at Blu. Like the others he was completely naked. Unlike the other, however, he was being washed by the two managers I met when they were given the task of showing me around and assigning a locker. Honestly the scene was kinda ridiculous in an oddly stately way. I mean, he looked like some sort of Roman patrician being cleaned by his servants…as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Willis, I think his name was – a reedy thing with long awkward limbs and dishwater hair – was at his front, dutifully lathering Blu’s cock with frothy soap. Willis, I noticed with great interest, had to use both hands to do this properly. How the boy managed to remain soft while someone played with his dick was beyond me.
I must have stood there, gawking like an idiot, for some time because Zen said. “So are you just going to stand there all day? Or are you going to wash?” I blushed. “I’d shower if I were you, ‘cause we can smell the stench of defeat wafting all the way over here.”
“All right Zen, leave him alone.” Blu said, managing to sound authoritative even as Willis cupped his heavy scrotum. “There are a few showers with stalls in the unisex room a couple of the shier ones use, if you’re not comfortable here.” He offered helpfully. Being in an LGBT+ school was certainly different experience for me. A coed wrestling team and a unisex locker room? …cool. I, however, had already begun wriggling out of my singlet and compression shorts.
The second my torso was bare I could feel the eyes on me. No matter where I went somebody was always gawking, and I was used to it. I could be bashful at times, I admit it, but I’m pretty determined to maintain my hard won confidence – a trait I didn’t always have – regardless of other people’s actions. And in this case, I think showering alone would only lose me some ground since I always avoided it at my old school. And besides, I had to admit, I was intrigued by this guys and their unconventional dynamic. Somehow they managed to strike a chord between team bonding and eroticism; so no, it wasn’t comfortable, it was intimate. And I hoped they would be willing to include me.
I needn’t’ve worried.
“I’m just gonna ask, and if I sound dumb or mean I’m sorry. But like, what’s your deal? Are you half-black or…?” So yeah, I knew that question was coming the second I walked into the gym today. Yes, both of my parents are black and I am too for the most part. One-hundred percent black in culture and genetics, seventy percent black in skin tone. My face is mostly pale with patches of brown skin that break up the whiteness like the tiny islands and archipelagos on a map. Most of my scalp, ears, jaw, neck, torso, and arms are almost all brown, however, with the odd blotch of white here and there. Both hands are completely white though, and my forearms have this weird gradient that almost makes it look like I’m just severely freckled.
From dairy cow to Dalmatian, I’ve been called every name in the book, but I’m not ashamed of my skin. Not anymore.
“Davis, you idiot, I’m half black…he just has vitiligo.” Zen answered the question for me with a snap of his towel in Davis’ direction. The kid was a loud mouth, but he won some points in my book for that. Usually I was stuck having to answer those question, and as stupid as it sounded that wasn’t the first time someone asked me if I was half-black/half-white specifically. I didn’t mind it usually, and Davis seemed curious not cruel so it was no big deal. Zen gave him shit for it anyway. I guess that was his shtick. It was harmless ribbing though, because everyone just seemed to ignore him.
“Well whatever it is, it’s kinda cool…I haven’t seen anyone who looks like you, man. Sorry if I offended-“
“Nah, it’s okay. I take it as a compliment.”
“You should.” Blu said, his eyes once again carrying that intimidating focus. I reflexively looked down and saw that he growing in Willis’ grip. Remember when I said I can be a bit bashful…okay maybe that was an understatement.
“S-sooo,” I said, throwing about for some way to deflect the conversation as I stood under the shower, helpless. “I, um, didn’t bring any soap.” The intensity in Blu’s eyes didn’t diminish in the face of my redirection. Instead he wordlessly took the foamy pouf from the other manager’s, Trevor, hand and stepped toward me. Coach’s two student support staffers broke off after that, each finding a different team member to scrub now that the captain was apparently finished with them. Laughing and joking with the rest of them. Evidently, ‘human loofahs’ was part of the job description.
“No worries, I got you.” He ran the pouf down my chest, causing my breath to hitch. Blu was so presumptuous and confident that it seemed almost alien to me, and I didn’t know how to react. To his credit, however, he stopped when he saw the anxiety in my eyes. That made it clear that I had a choice, which set me at ease. Finally, I held his gaze longer than second, nodded somewhat meekly, and he began gently washing the salt of practice away once more. Eyes were still on us as he did this, but his eyes never left my own. I felt like a cobra enthralled to snakecharmer and couldn’t look away, despite the force of his gaze. “So where are you from, Peck?” He asked. Having momentarily forgotten my birthplace I stammered until something came out.
“I-um…here.” I replied, intelligently. “I mean, I’m from here…as in Las Ochenta.”
“Cool, me too. Wwhat school you go to before this?” Blu was being particularly attentive to my nipples at this point, making me squint to keep my concentration.
“Uh, J-JHS.”
“Shame. I would have went to Nitro…we could have been enemies under different circumstances.” His hands slowly - painfully slow - made their way to my groin, and there he found I was quite react. The pouf grazed the underbelly of my hard cock and I shivered in spite of the warm water on my back. Thick brown eyebrows rose when he gripped my shaft. “I’m glad we’re not.” He said, a note of approval in his voice. Before seeing Willis with his hands full of Blu, I thought I proved the rule that black cock was always bigger. Evidently I was only slightly larger than average, if the boys in the shower were a diverse enough sampling. Blu, of course, put us all to shame despite his compact size.
“Turn.” The flow of water washed away the soap on my front, taking the memory of touch with it, as I obeyed. Blu started from the top again, kneading the meat of back, and gradually worked his way down my back. “You almost had me you know? Just a fraction quicker and you would have been the first to take me down in a trial like that.” His encouraging, captainly voice was back, full of both pride and constructive criticism. His affirmation was already a guilty pleasure, and I wondered if the other boys felt the same. Wondered if he often inspired them to work harder just so they could hear that note of approval.
“Nearly made a pancake outta him.” Zen agreed. His voice pulled my focus, I almost forget there were other people in the shower, and I turned my neck to find Davis slowly tugging on Zen’s slender length while they ogled Blu and me. I also noticed he was looking directly at me; like one might look at a tray of exotic foods. He definitely wanted a sample.
“When Coach and I are done, you’re gonna do big things Peck…Goddamn, dude.”
“Haha, real big.” Zen teased. Blu’s circular movements stopped suddenly, and I was just about to pivot around to see what they two of them were talking about when I felt his hand on my ass… My ass…and squeezing. Hard. “Looks like someone found a new favorite.”
Okay, so…confession time. I’m new to this. Never done anything like it in my life. With anyone. I’ve never been one of those ‘sleep the gay away’ kind of people (I live in a big city, my parents of educated middle class – upper middle class on a good day – people, and we aren’t religious. I’ve never had any hang ups about my sexuality as a result) so I haven’t even touched a girl before. Basically, those are a lot of words to say that I am a virgin. I was fooling around for the first time in my life, and it was in public, and people were running a full commentary about it in the background. Where am I and how did I get here so fast? It was all so dizzying, and I felt like a piece of cake just laying out in front of a hungry toddler. Blu was the hungry, and was currently trying to take out a fistful instead of a slice.
His grip on my ass cheek softened, but then I felt the loofah rubbing between my cheeks, the mesh grazing sensitive skin that had never been touched by another person before as he slowly spread me apart. I gasped again but this time he didn’t stop. Instead he leaned into me with insistent strength, pushing me against the tile with his body. My back was arched and the pouf was apparently forgotten, and in its place was a rough finger. Gently, he teased the soft ring of flesh that he’d wanted all along. Blu’s breath was on my ear again as were his whispers. “I wanted a piece of the fat ass the second you walk into my gym.” He told me, and anyone listening hard enough. In response, I blushed, incapable of fully grasping what was happening to me at the moment. Whatever it was, I liked it. A lot.
Slick with soap, his rough finger entered me.
It was a bit of blur after that. I remember him slowly plunging inside of me with his index finger, his patience was much greater than my own. It delved, swiveled, and flexed inside of me; determinedly – though carefully - searching for something. Blu’s free hand was not idle during his exploration either, because it found its way around my hips and back to my cock. I’m pretty sure I started moaning at that point. It didn’t hurt. It was only a single finger, and Blu took his time…too much time in fact…but the sensation was undoubted alien. Not unwelcome, just different. Most vividly, however, I remember the impression of his cock against my thigh, warm and throbbing.
All at once, I discovered what he was looking for. It was like he found the direct line to my pleasure and prodded. Actually it wasn’t like that, that’s exactly what happen. He been building me up to a release that I was used too, seeing as I’m the best masturbator I know. But he jumped the line and forced an orgasm in a big way. Maybe body shook, as if trying to get every molecule of sperm onto the porcelain tiles in front of me. And as my teenage hormones rushed out with it, I dimly became aware of clapping. And, wildly, I thought to myself, ‘Heh, my O is getting a standing O.” A terse slap on the ass and the sound of my ass drove away and post fingering silliness and brought me back down from the clouds.
“Wha?” I said, breathless and increasingly more and more shy now that horniness was no longer distracting me from the fact that multiple people were watching me jizz.
“I said, we have a tradition.” Zen tried again, smiling impishly. “Loser gives the blowies.” Shyness gave way to mortification. I know Zen was a jokester but considering what just happened to me, I was inclined to believe him. After all, there were a lot more hardons in the shower than there had been before Blu strummed me like a ukulele.
“Well you’re about to give them out instead, dickhead, since it’s the only way I know to shut you up.” Blu interjected, which wiped the smile of Zen’s freckled face. I thought he was joking, but Zen evidently took him for his word. Blu gave my rump one last pat - he seemed fixated upon it - and said, as if he hadn’t just giving me my first orgasm. Well, first assisted orgasm. “Good show out there Peck, and welcome to the team.” And he left.
What the fuck kind of school did I just enroll into?
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