This is gay erotic fiction involving sexual acts between men. If this offends you or you are not of legal age to read explicit sexual materiel, read no further. Any resemblance to any person, place or event is coincidental.
Thanks for the great work of the Nifty archive. Please consider a donation to Nifty to support this resource.
Constructive feedback is welcome at. benjaminharrison2024@yahoo.com
College Swim Team Captain
Chapter 3: late May 2023, Saturday, Memorial Day weekend
Garrett narrates
I woke to a hint of dawn in the sky. Dave's erect cock was pushing against my butt. I poked him. "Hey. I need to pee."
Dave walked me fifteen feet away. He didn't untie my hands, but just pointed for me and then led me back to the bedroll. We quickly went back to sleep.
I woke again to full daylight, the sun just peeking over the trees. Hank was sitting at the picnic table. Dave and Lowry were nowhere in sight.
"Hey," I called.
"Hey, yourself. Do you want coffee?"
"Please."
"I'll get you up." Hank unhooked the chain from the tree, pulled me to my feet and walked me to the camp chair, pulling it closer to the picnic table. He motioned me to sit and pulled Dave's sweatpants on me, then hooked the chain to the picnic table, leaving my arms tied as they had been the previous evening. He poured me a mug of coffee from a pot by the fire. "Milk? Sugar?"
"Just milk. That's good."
"Can you drink with your arms like that?"
I tried it and succeeded. "It's awkward but possible. It would be easier if I were untied."
"Nope, you're too cute roped up. Actually, you need more." The lightweight cord that Hank had earlier tied to my balls was on the table. Hank picked it up, squatted on my thighs and looped it around my scrotum.
"C'mon, man, not the testicle leash again," I groused.
"Just insurance. I think you'll behave. Are you warm enough like this?" I was shirtless and shoeless. I nodded. He pulled his chair up next to me and we sipped coffee and talked. Dave had gone for a long run and would fix breakfast when he returned. Lowry had gone to the U and should be back by 1200 or 100.
"Does Dave always cook?" I asked.
"Mostly. He's a much better cook than Lowry or me. Lowry helps with the grill. I usually get clean up duty." He put his coffee down, then leaned in and pulled my face to his. "Want to fool around again?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Not really." He pulled me up and steered me to his bedroll, helping me lie down.
"On your stomach, G." Hank pulled the sweatpants to my ankles, then dug in his duffel bag for a bundle of rope and sat on my calves, wrapping my thighs together tightly just above my knees and just below my crotch. I watched over my shoulder with apprehension. "I can't take you in me again. My mouth, maybe, but not my...."
"Quiet, boy, or I'll gag you. I think you'll like this." Hank pulled off his T shirt and his shorts, lifted my torso up and propped several blankets underneath to elevate my ass, then lay down on top of me, rubbing my back and neck. He nibbled on my ears, licked my neck, then turned my head for a deep kiss. Pushing his cock in the tight space between my legs, just below my crotch, he started pumping up and down. I could feel his cock grind against my taint, balls and cock. The friction was stimulating. He continued to kiss and lick me, putting one arm around my chest, playing with my nipples and pulling our bodies closer together. His other hand was on my face, two fingers in my mouth. "Garrett, you're a lot of fun. I don't think we'll let you go."
"Hank, you were right, I'm enjoying this." I wriggled underneath his mass. I felt enveloped by the man, and it amazed me how arousing it was. We kept up a slow pace for several minutes until Hank sped up; soon we each shot our loads, then rested, Hank still holding me in a tight embrace.
"How are you doing, young man?" Hank asked.
"Good. Satisfied. Still confused."
"How so?"
"I don't understand how you guys go from a gang rape yesterday afternoon, to the attention you gave me last night."
"Like Lowry said, we decide what we do, when, and how. We aren't going to explain. You seem to enjoy it."
"I don't understand Lowry at all. He's always come across as hard charging and aggressive -- but this is a completely different side of him than I've seen before. He's almost brutal."
"Brutal is a good word for it."
"He seems to be at the edge of violence, but he stays just off the line. It's both frightening and riveting."
"He'll be glad to hear that. Lowry is our criminal mastermind. He maintains the threat credibility, to keep you in line and compliant. He does a better job of that than I do."
"Your physical presence alone is threat credibility."
"You don't know me very well," Hank laughed. "I don't know what you've heard about working for Lowry. He's a hardass but he always supports his staff. He pushes them beyond their comfort zones, beyond what they think they are capable of. I think he's doing that with you."
Hank gave me another long kiss and rolled off. "I need to go to the shitter."
"So do I."
"Let's go." Hank untied me completely, unhooked the chain from the table and picked up the loose end of the leash, then pulled me up. We put on shoes but didn't tie them, and walked down the hill bare. Hank kept hold of the leash and tied the chain off to a tree. We talked as we used the outhouse.
"The other thing to know about Lowry," added Hank, "is that he despises a yes man. He wants to hear from people who disagree, if they have a good reason, even though he only rarely changes his mind. But once he makes a decision, he expects the team to pull together to move forward. That's just something worth knowing, though I don't think it plays into this weekend much."
"How much of this is role play and how much is real?"
"What difference does it make? You're not going anywhere until we let you go. In the interim we do whatever we want with you. That seems to be a real kidnapping."
"It's exhilarating and terrifying. How does this end?"
"We said we'd let you go on Monday. Either you trust us or you don't."
"That's the question isn't it?"
"Wait and find out. Would you believe me if I gave you an answer?
I thought a moment. "No." Hank smiled.
Dave had returned from his run and gotten under the shower as we were talking. "Can we help with breakfast?" Hank asked as we passed by.
"Yeah, I'll be down in a couple of minutes."
Hank walked me back to the fire pit and secured me to the camp chair as he had the night before at dinner. He pulled on shorts and a shirt, and gave me more coffee, then filled a pail of water at the pump next to the barn, walked back to the fire pit with the pail, some soap and a razor, and used a small hand mirror to shave his neck. I watched, a bit surprised.
"You're out camping and you shave?"
"I shave every day, otherwise it gets itchy."
It was in the low 60s; Dave came back from the shower, pulled on short pants and a t shirt, and covered me with a blanket. He made breakfast with minimal help from Hank - scrambled egg hash with venison sausage, potatoes, onions and jalapenos; toast on the grill, butter and jelly, and orange juice. There was minimal conversation at breakfast. Dave asked, "Hank, do you want to work out today?"
"Yeah, I could do that this morning."
"Does Lowry have any plans?"
"We may go for a run this afternoon. He talked about going fishing."
Hank washed up the dishes, Dave sat down across from me with a book. "I considered waking you this morning but decided to let you sleep."
"Thanks."
"Did you and Hank entertain each other while I was gone?"
I blushed. "Do you want the lurid details?" Hank asked.
"I'll just use my imagination."
"We ought to get him out of the sun for awhile," Hank said and turned to me. "Let's show you the rest of the barn." He untied me, unhitched the chain from the picnic table, and held the end of the chain and the leash. I stretched my arms and legs. "It's nice to be almost free."
"Don't get too accustomed to it, kid," replied Hank."
We walked around to the barn door where they had tied me when we first arrived and passed through the small alcove where the ice chests and duffels were stored, back to a larger space. A wide, partially open sliding door and several windows let light into this area. Tools hung on the wall, some antique but most fairly new. Several pieces of farm machinery, including an ancient John Deere tractor, were lined up on one wall. "It's still a working farm," Hank said. On one side were several animal stalls, all empty, some with gates, some open, six to eight feet wide and about ten feet deep. Back in a corner were two weight benches and three racks of weights. A chinning bar was attached to two posts. Three light bulbs cast dim light in the corners, and four battery powered lanterns hung around the bench.
"We'll work out with you later today or tomorrow if you want," Hank said, "but for now, stay put." He pushed me to face a post next to one of the animal stalls, put leather cuffs on my wrists and secured them behind my back, then tied my arms together above my elbows, blindfolded me, and gagged me with a wooden bit. Hank played with my nipples, fondled my crotch, then pushed me down to sit on the floor and tied ropes around my legs, just above my ankles and just below my knees. He dragged me into the stall, my knees bent, back against one wall, feet against the opposite one.
"Are you reasonably comfortable?"
I nodded. "Mmmmff."
"We'll check on you in a few hours. We may let you out for lunch."
I heard him walk away, and sat in the dark. It wasn't terribly uncomfortable, though the bit chafed my mouth. I may have dozed off, until I heard someone working out on the weights, then listened to Dave and Hank talking, spotting each other. Some time passed and they racked the weights, then walked past me. Dave stopped and rubbed my head. "Behave yourself, Pennington. We have plans for you this afternoon."
It was quiet for what seemed a long time; I might have fallen asleep again, when I heard Lowry and Dave close by. I could hear most of what Lowry said, little of Dave's responses.
"'... stadium deal blew up.. .. They gave us the same offer we rejected last week and said it was their best and final ... they issued a press release, the sons of bitches... With everyone out of town, nothing will happen until Wednesday but we'll have to deal with the press Tuesday and it's going to be a bear of a week...." They spoke quietly for several minutes, then Lowry asked, "where is Garrett?"
"Back in one of the cattle stalls."
"Good. Save us some pizza. "
I heard Lowry approach. He gently kicked me in the thigh. "Are you awake, Pennington?" I grunted, he pulled me to my feet, picked me up, threw me over his shoulder and carried me about fifteen feet, then set me down on my knees, my back leaning against something hard. I guessed it was a weight bench. Lowry stroked my chin and cheek, more firmly than gently. "I've had a very frustrating morning. Show me why I shouldn't take it out on you." He stroked my chin again, then pulled the bit gag out. "I don't know why Robinson uses something like this on you, it's cruel." He inserted three fingers in my mouth and probed deeply. I licked and sucked, holding off my gag reflex.
"Good boy." I heard a zipper, and then felt his cock at my mouth. I leaned forward and licked it. This time Lowry let me set the pace. My tongue played with his foreskin, licked down the shaft, then moved underneath to suck on his balls. He let out a low moan. "You like this cock, don't you, Pennington? You're our good little swimmer bitch." I murmured assent, not interrupting what I was doing. I took my time, sucking on both his balls, then working my way slowly back to the top of the shaft and taking it in my mouth as deeply as I could. I started bobbing up and down on it, getting my mouth almost to the base where Lowry's pubes tickled my nose, then pulling back so my lips were at the tip, trying to maintain a tight suction all the while. One of his hands was on my head, rubbing my hair; the other was tweaking and rubbing my nipples or massaging my shoulder or back.
At some point during this, I realized that I wasn't doing this because Lowry was forcing me; I was enjoying it. I wanted to show him I was good at it, wanted to make the man feel good. It wasn't because I was afraid of him, although I had to admit he still unnerved me. That didn't explain why I had a raging hardon as I worked on his pecker, Lowry murmuring his appreciation occasionally.
After five or ten minutes Lowry barked, "Son, you're doing a fine job, but I want your ass."
He pulled out, picked me up and then laid me down, face up, on the weight bench, put his hands behind my knees and lifted them up toward my shoulders. He slapped my ass twice, then paused, and I wondered if he were still there, until I felt warm skin poking my ass. Lowry easily slid in an inch, then stopped; he'd lubed himself but hadn't lubed or fingered me. It was only momentarily painful.
"Are you okay, boy?"
"Yes sir."
"Do you want this, swimmer boy?"
"Yes sir."
"Tell me."
"Fuck me sir. "
"Yeah, you're our little swimmer bitch aren't you?" He pushed in farther, slowly and steadily, as I inhaled and relaxed. I felt his balls against my ass. "How is that, Garrett?" Lowry asked softly.
"Feels good sir. Bring it on."
"Damn, you're still nice and tight." Lowry began sliding in and out, still aggressive but gentler than he had been Friday. It was easier since he had given me time to adjust to his size. He pistoned in and out for a few minutes, slowly and steadily, then adjusted his angle slightly and penetrated more deeply. His dick suddenly hit my prostate in a way that shot an electric spark down my legs and up my spine. "Fuck!" I gasped. Lowry increased his tempo, relentlessly pounding me. He had one hand on my thigh, keeping it pushed back towards my chest, and the other hand rubbing my face or chest and tweaking my nipples.
He pulled off the blindfold, then reached down and began to rub my cock. We fixed our eyes on each other. His confidence, and the combination of his control over me with the affection he showed, were huge turn ons. So was the sight of his muscular, hairy chest, after my earlier inability to see. He matched his strokes on me with his rhythmic pounding into my ass. In a few minutes he had jerked me off, and my spasms triggered his own climax. He caught his breath, then leaned down and stretched out on top of me while still inside me, kissing me. His tongue slid in and I responded. I was surprised by his tenderness. It almost made me cry.
Lowry raised up so we could better see each other. "You have a sweet ass, son. I should pimp you out to your swim coach. Does Bailey have any idea what fun he could have with you? I bet he'd love this ass." He had put a hand on my mouth, two fingers inside it, muffling me. He was still buried deep in me as we both caught our breaths. "I'll miss you when we get the ransom and leave town. Maybe we should take you to Costa Rica with us. What do you think?"
"Would l have a choice, sir?"
"No, boy, you wouldn't." He slapped my ass, hard. "Let's go get some lunch." He wiped himself off, pulled on his shorts, then wiped me off and untied me. We walked out; I was still bare. He kept a firm hold on the leash and the ankle chain, tugging the leash playfully a couple of times. I grimaced, but didn't complain.
Several pizza boxes were on the picnic table. Hank tied me up on the camp chair, keeping me in the shade, and attached the leash and chain to the table. Lowry brought me lemonade and pizza. As I ate it occurred to me that while I had easily told Hank I didn't want him to fuck me, I'd never considered turning Lowry down. I wasn't sure if I were afraid of Hank's size, or of what Lowry might do.
Hank and Dave had finished eating and were each working on a beer, Hank checking his phone, Dave reading a book. It was around 70 degrees, sunny, but we were all in the shade. Lowry was shirtless, Dave had on only a jockstrap, Hank was in boxer shorts. I ate and watched the men. I was still awed at how muscular and attractive they were. Hank caught me staring, winked at me, and rubbed his crotch. I blushed, Hank chuckled. This soon after the work out with Lowry, I was still horny.
Lowry asked, "Pennington, what's your training regime over the summer?"
"The coaches gave us a few days off from the pool as long as we exercise daily, drink in moderation, and watch what we eat. I shouldn't smoke", I admitted. "Tuesday it's back to 90 minutes in the pool or on weights, five days a week, and no alcohol. You have to let me go by then."
"We'll think about it," Dave grinned.
Lowry confessed, "My doctor allows me one cigar a week so I'm already over the limit. We'll have to ration your liquor, swim boy."
"We can give the kid a work out on the weights this afternoon," Hank said. "We've got some training planned for him first."
"G, if you do a good job we'll let you have some booze tonight," Dave leered.
Lowry finished eating, tossed his plate in the fire and headed to the barn. He was back in a few minutes, dressed in jeans, a tee shirt and a ball cap, carrying his fishing gear. "I'm off to the pond to catch dinner."
"Good luck. If you don't have any success we'll have steak again," said Dave.
Hank and Dave tidied up the area and wiped off the table. Then Hank untied me from the chair and tied me face down on the picnic table with a blanket under me. "What's going on? I have a funny feeling about this," I groused.
"You know the rules kid," Hank answered, as he and Dave spread a tarp out on the ground on one side of the table and then sat down on either side of me. "We're going to work on your cock sucking skills this afternoon. You've got the basics but with the right training we can improve your abilities."
"Hank is going to coach. We`ll demonstrate several techniques on you and then give you time-''
"Lots of time--" interrupted Hank--
--"to practice."
"Dave and I will also demonstrate some skills on each other, and we'll see if you can duplicate them."
"Wait a minute- I didn't sign up for that," protested Dave in horror. "I'm not taking your club in my mouth."
"The kid did it yesterday and you can't?"
"You must be fucking kidding me. The kid had to do it."
"All right, if Dave is going to be a wuss, I'll demonstrate on him. Dave, start on our young friend."
The practice went on for over an hour, with Dave and Hank showing me different techniques, Hank demonstrating on Dave, and then forcing me- or allowing me -- to practice on each of them. Initially Hank and Dave straddled my chest, then propped me up on an elbow so I had better access. Later they moved me to my knees on the tarp. I gagged and coughed often but both men provided supportive coaching, advice and encouragement, with frequent jokes and laughter. The practice ended with me tied face up on the table, my head hanging over the edge, as first Dave, then Hank deep throated me. I got balls deep on Dave as he shot his second load of the afternoon down my gullet. They let me sit up and have some water before I tried on Hank. After fifteen minutes of gagging, coughing, and frustration, my eyes watering from the exertion, and Dave and Hank urging me on, Hank relented. "You've done better than all but two or three guys I know. You're a champ, G." He stroked his still erect cock.
"Who's going to take care of you, Hank?" asked Dave.
"You've got a pretty mouth, David," retorted Hank.
"We're not discussing that. But I can give you a hand." Dave jerked off Hank and aimed his load on my face and chest. I licked up some, Hank fed Dave some from his fingers and then mopped up the rest with a towel. Dave went to get a couple more beers while Hank sat on the bench next to the picnic table, idly stroking my chest. "You didn't get off, did you? We got so caught up in our training we forgot about you. I can take care of that."
"I'd really appreciate that Hank," I said gratefully, still tied down tightly to the table, my cock still painfully hard. Hank nibbled my ear, then worked his way down my chest, chewing gently on both nipples, then to my stomach and on to my balls and dick. Dave walked by and paused to watch.
"Hank, you have amazing technique. I'd ask you for a blow job but I'm afraid you'd make me reciprocate."
Hank paused, looking me in the eye. "Kid, just remember who looks out for you."
Hank finished me off and cleaned me up. Neither Hank nor Dave got dressed but left me tied up for a half hour and got me some lemonade. After a bit Hank piped up, "OK guys, are we ready to lift some weights?"
Dave got up and pulled on a jockstrap. "G, do you have a jock in your bag?"
`Yeah, it should be with the swim stuff in my backpack."
"Good, I'll find it." Hank untied me, removing the leash but leaving the ankle chain on, and we walked to the barn where he dug in my duffel for a jock. We lifted for about an hour. It was the most freedom I had had all day, even with the ankle chain attached to one of the benches. It was still mild, but all three of us worked up a sweat, then went back to sit by the fire pit. Dave and Hank put on tee shirts and shorts; they took off my jock and stowed it, leaving me bare again, and Hank tied me in the camp chair, more elaborately than previously. My feet were crossed at the ankles and tied, my knees bent so my legs were in a diamond shape, and each wrist was tied to my thighs just above the knees. A rope looped around my chest several times, outlining my nipples. Hank finished with multiple gags, the first cinched tight and pulled into my mouth, then two more laid on top. He stepped back and took pictures. "You're a great model. We should spend an afternoon at my place doing this and taking photos." I shook my head and muttered through the gag. Hank squatted down next to me and tweaked my nipples, then my cock, as Dave snapped more photos. Whether it was the two men's proximity or the thrill of being roped up, my cock remained half hard.
Dave and Hank played a couple of games of backgammon, checking on me occasionally. After a while they took off the gags to give me more lemonade, and covered me with a blanket. Lowry came back with three good sized fish. He cleaned and fileted them, while Hank chopped more wood. Dave made a butter, herb, lemon and white wine sauce, and prepared mushrooms, asparagus and bread as go withs. I asked him how he had learned to cook.
"When I was in graduate school a buddy told me the surest way to score on a first date was to cook a good meal. It still amazes me how well that works. After a while I realized if I cooked for friends, they would usually buy the ingredients, or at least the booze."
Hank untied me for dinner, securing me as he had the previous night, and all four of us made small talk. I felt more included in the conversation than I had the night before. I wondered what had changed. Perhaps it was my comfort level with the three ex football players, or perhaps the three older men were calmer and mellower. Maybe less horny and edgy?
After dinner was over, Hank started cleanup and Lowry shared his Jack Daniels. It was a little after sunset and getting cool so Dave again loaned me his sweat shirt and sweat pants.
"Mr. McCarthy," I asked Lowry, "did you really play in two Super Bowls?"
He smiled ruefully. "I played in one for the Texas Wranglers, then watched the next year's game from the Broncos sideline."
"Tell him the whole story," Dave urged.
"That would take a week," Lowry growled. "Hank, do we want to share our NFL highlights and lowlights?"
"Sure. You start, I'll interrupt as needed."
"I wasn't a top draft pick but I wasn't at the bottom, " Lowry began. "I had talked to a couple of Wildcat alums who made the big show and I sort of knew what to expect but it was still an eye opener. It's a roller coaster of emotions and tough physical activity- the thrill of getting drafted, the tedium of hiring an agent and negotiating a contract, making a deal for more money than you ever in your life expected to make, then practices that make the worst college workouts seem like a picnic. I thought l knew what to expect from training camp in the summer heat but it was a lot harder than I expected. What most surprised me was the ruthless competitiveness and the sheer ugly corporate grind. The Wranglers' owners and senior management made it clear we were just very well paid hired talent. There was more competitiveness within the team than I ever saw in high school or college. It wasn't just egos, it was resentment of other guys' status and money. I was getting paid over a million a year. Some teammates- rookies like me- were jealous of me because they were making 100 or 200K less. I resented the guys who were making 200 or 300K more, or had lucrative endorsement deals, or had more air time in interviews with ESPN. For three months I had no friends, not even friendly acquaintances.
"There was a lot of petty corporate bullshit- bureaucratic stuff that made the job harder than it needed to be. They encouraged us -- encouraged meant it was expected -- to do regular charity gigs, most for the owners' or their friends' favorite causes. They were usually pleasant events, you'd get a nice meal and meet a lot of fans, who of course all had advice for the team, but after a few of those it was just one more thing to do in a busy week. I was asked to a lot of speaking engagements, things like Rotary clubs and high schools, and I enjoyed those. I got paid for a few endorsements, but the club took a 5% cut from whatever fee I was offered. It wasn't that I was making a lot of money speaking to business groups, it was just the principle of it."
Hank interrupted. "I signed with the Seahawks right after graduation. I was drafted a little lower than Lowry but still about a third of the way above the bottom. I understood the competitiveness- Lowry clued me in on it, he was back here when I was a senior. Boss, I've told you before, but you were such a big help to me --"
Lowry cut in. "Robinson, stop sucking up." He grinned. "You're welcome."
Hank continued. "Anyway, competitiveness. Rookies come into camp and have to prove themselves, to the coaches, to the other rookies, to the older players. My experience wasn't as bad as Lowry's in Dallas- the Seahawks worked hard to nourish team spirit; they used our competitiveness to get the best from us. While we had our share of corporate bullshit, it wasn't at the level that Lowry describes. Seattle didn't charge us to set up speaking gigs. Of course, I didn't have many invitations for that sort of thing, linebackers can't string two sentences together," he laughed.
Lowry continued. "Have I mentioned yet that I hated the city - and the whole fucking megaplex? I never got used to it. Texas is nice but that city has no soul. The Wranglers are the perfect team for them."
"Garrett, if it seems that this is Lowry grousing about a bad job fit, it gets more interesting," Dave interjected.
"My college girlfriend moved in with me right after I'd started with the Wranglers. I'd dated Karen two years in college. She got a job there, marketing work with a pharma company, and we got married in April after my first season. Moody and Tunney- Tunney was head coach then, Moody was the AD- told me not to live like I was making a million a year, since there was no guarantee how long I'd be playing. Karen didn't understand that. We rarely fought but when we did it was almost always about money.
"I got a lot of play time in the second half of my rookie year, and felt like I was fitting in, being seen as an asset. The Wranglers' quarterback was Todd Long- by the way, he wasn't" - Hank laughed- "and by the end of the season we had all synched up and started working smoothly together. We made the playoffs that year but didn't get very far. We had some great games, we made some stunning plays, and I ended the year a lot more comfortable than when I'd started, but I still felt out of place.
"Getting more play time also garnered me more media attention, which was both welcoming and distracting. I got requests to do a few TV ads. Somewhere out there is a You Tube video of a 23 year old me pitching for a pest control company. Pennington, you are dead meat if you mention that to anyone.
"About a dozen of the players and coaches set up weekly meetings during the off season to figure out how we could work better together. By the time training camp started we had a lot more cohesiveness as a team, and that season we worked our asses off. We had only two losses the whole season. The offensive line became a well oiled machine. It was still ego driven but we were working together so much better than before.
"We went to the Super Bowl. It was awesome. I got tickets for Karen and her dad- he had never liked me- my dad and both my brothers, six of my college teammates, and Moody and Tunney. I caught two passes for TDs. We won, 42-31. The next week the team took all the players, their spouses, and senior staff to Cabo San Lucas for three nights. We had a team and spouse lunch the day after we arrived. Karen had a headache and skipped the lunch. I'd left my wallet in the room and after 45 minutes went up to get it. Long was in bed with Karen. They didn't hear me come in. I grabbed his leg and pulled him out of bed. He stood up, swung at me and missed. I decked him in the face. I thought I'd broken his nose - I hadn't, it was just bleeding gallons.
"Karen was terrified. I didn't yell, I just said very quietly, `I'm out of here.' I walked around outside for ten minutes and then called my coach to meet me in the lobby. He put me in a spare room upstairs and got my best buddy on the team to stay with me. I found out later, via the grapevine, that Long had had at least one similar incident the year before.
"I didn't have a drop of alcohol for three days. I called a friend in Texas who put me in touch with a divorce attorney. I was done with Karen. Of course I was done with Long, too, but I didn't see an easy way out of that.
"Coach Nall came back up to see me after a couple of hours and asked, `Do you want to stay here or go home?'
"What's Karen doing?"
"Whatever you want."
"Send her home, I'll stay. Just keep Long away from me."
"That won't be a problem." Of course I'd told my buddy what had happened. Nall told us not to discuss it with anyone. We didn't. But by the next day half the team and most of the management knew what was going on. Long said he'd fallen down and hit his nose on a doorknob. Shit, a ten year old could have come up with a better story. Karen had gone home for a 'family emergency.' No shit. Nobody said anything directly to me but I got a lot of sympathy from my teammates.
"The day after we got back to Texas, management called me, my agent, and the players' rep in for a meeting. It was what my buddies, my agent and I had all predicted, but delivered with a lot more tact than I expected. They couldn't keep both of us on the team and even though they appreciated me, Long was more valuable than I was.
"Long apologized to me and to the team owners. I wondered if the senior staff pressured him for that. The team had Karen, Long and me sign an NDA. They asked me to reconsider the divorce and offered legal help when I ruled that out. They didn't want a hint of scandal, not after the Super Bowl win. My agent and his lawyer negotiated a generous severance package and worked with the team to trade me to Denver. I got over any bitterness to the team pretty quickly. It was a business decision, and I was glad to put Texas behind me. The trade gave me a nice pay raise. A few media stories speculated on what had happened but no one on the team talked.
"Karen in a week went from contrite to angry to resigned. I had a good lawyer and the team leaned on Karen's lawyers to cooperate, so the divorce went relatively smoothly and was final that summer. I kept most of my assets. It wasn't amicable by any means but time and distance soothed my anger. After a year or so Karen and I started checking up on each other every couple of months. I had- still have- no intent of getting back together but I moved past the anger. It surprised me how good that felt. Looking back, there are things I wish I'd done differently, but that's a whole other story.
"I went home to my parents' place for a month, then a couple weeks here, then moved to Denver. Moody, Tunney, my family and my high school and college teammates all gave me lots of support.
"Denver was a fresh start. The Broncos were glad to have me. It was warmer emotionally and with less of the Wranglers' petty bullshit. I developed a good rapport with the quarterbacks and the offensive line and we had a good season. I dated a few women, none seriously. Our first playoff game was in Green Bay. It was 35, raining and snowing the whole game. Utterly miserable. I stayed in the shower for a full hour after the game. The memory of that game, despite our victories, was one of several motivations that made me quit.
"I broke my leg in the second playoff game and was on crutches for two months and PT for four more. The team had me on the sidelines giving advice. I thought it was just to make me feel good but they gave me a bonus for each game I assisted."
"The next game we beat the Wranglers. At the end Todd Long walked over, apologized and shook my hand. `I made a big mistake and wrecked two marriages. I'm sorry.' "
"I appreciate that, man," I told him, and meant it. I wasn't sure where that came from. I'd thought for over a year what I'd say to him when we saw each over again; that wasn't anywhere close to what I had envisioned.
"Anyway, I got Super Bowl tickets for family and a few buddies. The Broncos played a good game but lost by two touchdowns.
"I was fully mobile by June but wasn't cleared for training camp. The team and I talked several times between April and July. They were patient, up to a point, but in August they released me from my contract. The players' rep and my agent cut a good deal for me and the team kept me on their medical insurance for two years.
"I'd been looking at job options, with the Broncos, a few other pro teams and several colleges, but I couldn't do anything until the Broncos released me. Moody and Tunney told me that spring they could find a place for me here if I wanted it. A secure job with people I knew, in a place I liked, a couple of hours from my parents, was worth at least $100,000 in salary. I'd saved enough in three years that I had a healthy nest egg. So I came back here, worked with the football program two years, and advised young Robinson when he signed with Seattle. I thought I'd talked him out of it but the big bucks were too attractive. Moody and Tunney saw potential in me that I didn't recognize. I am very grateful for where I am today. It's been twelve years of interesting twists and turns." Lowry took a long pause. "I've rambled on too long. Hank, tell Garrett your story."
"It's not nearly as interesting as Lowry's."
"It's just as good in its own way," argued Dave.
"Please, I'd like to hear," I said.
"Well, in four years at college," Hank began, "I nailed enough sorority girls that I established my hetero bona fides, so I could get away from most parties early and find something that more suited my inclinations."
"You fooled most of us but not all of us," Lowry growled. Hank extended his middle finger and slowly scratched the bridge of his nose. "Anyway, when I went to the Seahawks I didn't intend to make a statement on my sexuality but I didn't think anyone would care. I was wrong. I didn't out myself but if you're unattached and not out chasing poon, people tend to notice. One benefit of being physically gifted as I am, is that one gets unexpected offers from surprising sources. I was circumspect but it was easy to have my needs met.
"After about four games my coach told me he didn't care who I slept with but I'd be more popular with the fans and get along better with my team mates if I had a girlfriend. He offered to find me one. I heard a few comments in the locker room which were easy to ignore. Most of my team mates were cool; I hooked up several times with one or two of them but it was like at the frat, just blowing off steam, nothing serious. For six months I dated a guy from the front office. He was 31, cute, married and discreet. We'd have dinner about once a week and then go to my place.
"The Seahawks were a good organization and the fan base was supportive. I had two close buddies, made other friends on the team and in the organization. I still keep in touch with them. The money was good. I lived well but not extravagantly, so I accumulated some savings. After the first season I was ready to do it again. But after the second year hitting and blocking 300 pound guys at training and practice and games, every week from August through January, I was tired. That year we made it through two playoff games but when I realized that I was glad we weren't going any further, I knew it was time to hang it up.
"The Seahawks put me on waivers at the end of the season. I had several options but after thinking it over for a week I decided that there wasn't enough money to make me want to play another season.
"Tunney and Lowry told me when I left here to let them know if the NFL didn't work out. My major had been sports management- Garrett, that's usually a euphemism for coaching. I knew everyone on staff I'd be working with. I got an assistant to the assistant job and got in a grad program here. The salary was meager but I got promoted three times in my first year. I'd taken on the role of coach my senior year here to some of the younger players; Tunney said it seemed to come naturally to me.
"I decided when I came back I wouldn't hide my preferences. Tunney and Lowry knew I was gay. It didn't bother them. There were senior students and staff who'd known me before so it wasn't exactly a secret."
"You don't advertise it but you've never concealed it," said Dave.
"If anyone asks I tell them, but it rarely comes up in casual conversations. I've taken dates -- a male plus one, a `friend'-- to several departmental functions. A few of the players have propositioned me. I don't mess with the students I coach, but I'm glad to give confidential advice. I know of two players on the current squad who are gay. I wager there are at least a half dozen others who play for both sides."
"Is it hard?" I asked.
"I'm 27, mine's hard all the time, isn't yours?" Hank grinned.
I blushed. "I mean being out at the U."
"It bothers a few of the players. Some freshmen freak out until they get to know me. Hell, some freshmen freak out just seeing me."
"Hardly anyone cares," Dave interrupted. "If they do, they're afraid to say anything."
"They aren't afraid of me," Hank said defensively.
"No," said Lowry, "they're afraid of me."
The bottle was passed around again. "Who's sleeping with the kid tonight?" asked Lowry.
"I''ll take him," volunteered Hank.
"Oh no," I croaked.
"I'll be gentle. Between last night, Lowry at noon, and Dave and me this afternoon, I think we wore you out."
"Use him while you've got him," Lowry growled.
Hank attached my ankle chain, tied my ankles together securely but loosely, and bound my wrists together in front. "Can you sleep like this?"
"We'Il see. I'd prefer what you did last night."
"Give this a try, Pennington. It has advantages."
He helped me lie down next to him, then wrapped an arm around my chest, patted my stomach and stroked my cock gently. His beard tickled the back of my neck. I scooted over slightly to be in closer contact to him; his cock nestled between my legs. "Are you tired, boy?" Hank asked.
"Exhausted."
"We'll play in the morning, OK?"
"Yes sir, Coach." Hank kissed the back of my neck and we fell asleep.