Written by avehoward
Disclaimer--If you are underaged in your community or if you object to homosexual content, then don't read this novella. You know the scoop kids.
Thanks to David, Mick, Paul, Joe, Bobby, Remmy, MK, Shash and Jack for giving me comments on part one! Keep 'em coming guys!
Chapter Two
"Line!" cried out Steven Glineberg with a gleeful relish. "Hansen, you've crossed the line!"
Greg Hansen, a wide-eyed, red-haired freshman who had just started cross-country this season, looked around in a panic. He searched for some physical line that would denote that he had strayed from the straight-and-narrow. Doing so, his pace slowed down and this eager young man was placed back on the proper side of the line when Steven passed him with a grin on his face. "Guys," Steve said, "what should Hansen's punishment be for getting a little too far ahead of guys older than he is?"
Doing his best to keep a straight face, Ethan Hauck, another senior, suggested a pine cone up the ass. That was shot down as being something that no civilized athlete would dish out, though it would certainly be done by one as uncouth as a football player. Dan Pearson, the junior who was #4 on the varsity roster, said "Hey, why don't we just buy one of those electric fence things and have the little kids run in the middle of them?"
"Good idea Pearson, but that's obviously not going to help us now," laughed JD Maynard. Plucking a white lawn flag reading "TruGreen Lawn Services" from the front yard he was currently running on, JD gave it to the freshman who was only now beginning to get the idea that this was just a joke. "Here Hansen, you're going to carry this for the rest of the run."
"I like that, Maynard" complimented Glineberg and with the mood light, the group of twenty runners continued on their prescribed five-mile pre-meet route, laughing and enjoying the fruits of being young and healthy. In the week-and-a-half since JD had challenged him unsuccessfully during the 1000-meter repeats, their friendship had grown to be more than it was before. Lovers? Of course not. Best friends? No. Friends instead of friendly acquaintances? Yeah, that's about the extent of it. But they were seeing that they got along outside of just the teammate perspective.
Tomorrow was the first meet of the season, which in the scheme of things was not all that important. The races of August and September are like puddles of dog piss compared with the Great Lakes of the October and November races. But they are a place to show off what a team has and to make the statement that this is a team that is to be reckoned with. For a team like Highland Lakes, which, after years of mediocrity, was finally in the running for qualifying for the state meet, so these early meets were places in which it could show the world that yes, it was back. For the individual runners, this was also a chance to make an early statement. For a runner like Steven Glineberg with all of his potential, this was where he could begin a quest for a state championship. For a runner like JD Maynard this was where he could show his coach the amount of work he had put in to improve over the summer. And for a runner like Adam Rutman, this is where he would go run, and enjoy himself cheering on his friends and teammates. Different people, different goals.
The course at the St. Anselm's College High School Invitational was idyllic for running a good strong race. Unlike the typical golf course on which cross-country races are run on, the St. Anselm's course was spread over soccer practice fields for the opening and closing portions where speed is essential for placement. The middle two miles, in contrast, were on wooded trails that were just large enough for two people to run side-by-side. In here elbows could be thrown with impunity and the race became much more tactical. This race was a 2.6-mile effort, a half-mile shorter than the typical 5 kilometer high school race. The race itself was expected to be a fast one, since for once, on the Friday before Labor Day, the temperatures were merely pleasant instead of sickeningly hot.
At the crack of the gun, the varsity squads of fourteen schools took off, jockeying for position on the short straightaway before they would enter the woods. Earlier in the JV race, Adam and Marc had found out the hard way the penalty for not starting off aggressively. They ended up with times up over 18:00 because they found themselves struggling to pass clumps of competitors slower than they in the woods. So it was imperative that the varsity runners of Highland Lakes get out as strongly as possible. And most of them did. JD was off to a flying start, despite some stray thoughts scattering around the back of his mind that he would pay for this temerity later on. The one runner who did not get a good start was Steven Glineberg. What could possibly be attributed to either a late night that left him out of it or just a poor start, at the entrance to the woods, he found himself neck-and-neck to his newfound friend, JD Maynard. Glineberg turned to him and between breaths, commented "This is familiar."
Maynard heard him but did not respond. He was too busy focusing on this race. Mentally he resolved to stay with Glineberg, who was clearly off his game, as long as possible. Letting Steve scoot through the gaps first, Maynard slowly moved up, staying close to his teammate the entire way. At the halfway point, Steve and JD stood at 6:51 and 6:52, respectively. An excellent race for Maynard but a rather poor one for one of the top runners in the state. Still they ran on, more-or-less in tandem. By the time they emerged from the woods, they had made up 20 places to be in 18th and 19th place. And it was there they stayed. Each runner threw on whatever kick he had, and Steve's outdistanced his less-accomplished friend's by a good 35 meters, but he was nipped at the line by a small clump of three competitors. Too little, too late. They crossed the line at 14:03 and 14:12.
After the race, JD was ecstatic, while Steve was nonchalant. While this was a lousy performance for him, it was pretty well-established that he used the season to get himself in top form. Aside from that, he was amused to see the excitement that JD had about his race. The team results were middling; Highland Lakes, by virtue of strong performances turned in by JD and Kent Winden, managed a fourth-place finish out of fourteen schools, some of them quite a bit larger than it. So on the bus ride home, Coach Jed Carlson was not too perturbed by the performance. He sat in the front seat and thought on the afternoon's race. He was frustrated with Steve's poor race; clearly the boy had to get more serious about his running. But confrontation was not Carlson's style, at least not at first. If Steve's racing was poor for the next few weeks, then it would be time to say something. Besides, Carlson was impressed with how Steve had helped JD break through to the next level. Now if JD could hold that kind of performance, Highland Lakes would be a force to be reckoned with once the weather turned cold and the championship season began. Yes, this season could be most interesting indeed.
In the back of the bus, the atmosphere was much lighter, as it tends to be among young men. As can be expected, nothing was sacred among them. Jokes flew fast and furious about the appearance of girlfriends and the sexual habits of mothers. An argument arose between Kent, the quiet audiophile on the team, and Adam over the merits of The Killers versus Franz Ferdinand. There was no resolution to that battle of words, as Kent refused to be swayed from his love of the 80s revival Killers and Adam's steadfast devotion to the manic riffs of Franz Ferdinand. Every topic was discussed on that hour-long ride, except for running. They had had enough of that for one day. As the bus pulled into their hometown, Steve moved up a seat and plopped down next to JD and said, "Hey, you had a great race today, dude."
"Thanks Steve. I felt really good out there, but I don't think I could have done it if you weren't there."
"Fuck no! You did that on your own."
"Maybe those miles did pay off. If you don't mind me asking, what happened to you today?"
"Oh, I don't know," answered Steve, "I just didn't feel much like racing. Just one of those days I s'pose."
"I know what you mean."
"Hey, JD, are you going to be coming over to Lauren's tonight for that party?"
"I didn't know about it," JD answered, feeling somewhat uncomfortable about the presence of this extremely attractive guy next to him.
"Well now you do. Coming?"
"I don't think so. I have never been drunk before."
"Never! Come on dude, you gotta come. Hey, I'll tell you what, I'll hang with you and make sure that you get just drunk enough that you start feeling great but not too drunk that you'll be puking. Hell, I'll give you a ride and stay sober. C'mon dude, you've earned a night of celebration." Steve made eye contact with JD and within that brief gaze they made a connection that they weren't all that different.
With a slow smile, JD answered, "Well since you put it like that, yeah, I'll come."
"Great! You won't regret this, I promise. I'll be by to pick you up around 10. Wait^Åwhere exactly do you live?"
JD gave him his address and by the time their plans were settled, the bus was pulling up in front of the high school. The runners gathered their belongings and scattered in their own separate directions in the night. As he drove home, JD found himself thinking about Steve. Was there something more in this invitation? JD was no naive lamb in a world of wolves. Unlike the many guys he read about in erotic stories online, he had always known that he was different from the other guys and he had no major issues with his sexuality. That was that and nothing more. His sexual history was a blank slate, unless his daily masturbation sessions were taken into account. His town was not a place where a teen would willingly come out. It was a quiet place very much the picture of a Mayberry, only with internet access. At home JD showered down, skipping his typical shower "workout" with his penis. If what he thought he'd seen in Steve Glineberg was true, well then he wouldn't need to jerk off. He then went upstairs for a late supper where he filled in his parents on his unexpected race and his evening plans (though just describing it as "hanging out with some friends" because he knew that his parents would not be keen on him going to a party to get drunk).
At a quarter to ten, Steve Glineberg got into his car to drive over to JD's house. Like JD, he was not sexually experienced, though it was not for a lack of trying. He had come thisclose to hooking up with several people via the internet but common sense won out at the last minute and he aborted those plans. He knew that he was not a total homosexual; he had some bisexual tendencies, though those only came out when he was drunk. But tonight his eyes would be all for JD. He was going to keep his promise and make sure that JD did not overindulge. Ten minutes after leaving his house, he found himself in front of JD's home, a one-story affair in a section of town that was predominantly upper-middle class. He parked and walked jauntily to JD's door. However before he knocked, the front door swung open and out came his new friend. "Damn," Steve said, "somebody's a little eager for tonight."
JD gave him a grin, "Well, it's been a good day and odds are that things will stay that way."
Each boy thought to himself about how good things could get that night.
They drove over to the party, which was at the home of one their female classmates who could be estimated (on the low side) to be merely in the upper income bracket. The place was huge and she was indulging her status as a "Rich Little Daddy's Girl" to throw a rather expansive party. About 45 of their classmates were there, indulging in a wide selection of booze. On a normal school day, Steve merely flitted along the edges of her social circle because he saw her fairly transparent attempts at popularity via wealth. JD, on the other hand, was quite obviously disdainful of her vulgar ways. Still, despite the gulf in amiability and because of several Strip-and-Go-Nakeds, the hostess received the two runners very kindly. Steve whispered to his friend, "JD, it looks like we're drinking Strip-and-Go-Nakeds tonight. These are loaded. I don't think that you want more than three or so, unless you really want to get fucked up."
JD grinned at him, "Gotcha chief. Well, let's have at it!" JD grabbed a cup and fetched himself a drink. His face wrinkled in surprise at the taste. "Jesus Balls! This is terrible." After another sip he added, "But strangely tasty."
They mingled around the party. Loud boisterous yells were being made by the captain of the soccer team as he proceeded to win game after game of Beer Pong, despite being falling-down drunk. JD found himself quickly growing intoxicated by the atmosphere (not to mention the Strip-and-Go-Nakeds). Why had it been so long before he had gone to his first proper party? Several girls from his biology class saw him and literally dragged him onto the dance floor, despite his feeble protests that "Hey! I shuck at dancccinng." What he lacked in talent he certainly made up for in effort. From the sideline, Steve watched in bemusement. Yes indeed, JD Maynard danced like an inebriated white guy. That is to say, very poorly. Not that he allowed that to stop him. His perceptions of himself dropped and he saw himself as quite suave out there, despite being quite unstable after three cups of the beverage of the night. Several hours after arriving, he found his way back to Steve and dropping his arm over Glineberg's shoulders in a sociable fashion, he slurred "God thish ish fucking fantashtic!"
"Glad to see that you're having fun!"
"But dude don't we have practish in eight hoursh?"
Steve answered, "Yeah. If you're ready to go now, I'll get you home." JD nodded and Steve lifted himself off of the couch and gave his drunken friend a hand. They made their way to Steve's car and started to drive home. When they got to JD's house, JD turned to Steve and asked, "Sho why didn't you drink tonight?"
"Somebody had to drive us home!"
"I know that. But why now that we're seniorsh are you inviting me to partiesh?"
"Because I like you." With that, Steve turned off the ignition and leaned over to JD and kissed him on the lips. As much as JD had thought that this might happen, he was still caught unaware and it took his brain a moment to kick in with the "Kiss Back" natural response. But eventually it did kick in and the two runners began to make up. After several minutes of kissing across the shifter, Steve suggested that they take it to the backseat. They made their way to the back where they could fully appreciate the making out process. Hands moved up and down each other's lean torsos and up the solid running thighs. Droplets of sweat sprouted at their temples and hung there, pregnant with the lust that was going on. Steve's hand brushed up from JD's thigh and ran across the erection that was contained within the shorts. He terminated the course that his digits were moving on, resting his hand fully on top of the penis that he had seen so many times while flaccid but never in the state it was in now.
While continuing to make out with his teammate, Steve's fingers furtively unzipped JD's fly and after some fumbling, he managed to pull down the shorts and boxers that JD was wearing. A good seven inches of cock was left exposed, inflexibly rigid and untouched by anyone aside from its owner. JD aped his friend's motions and soon Steve's penis was exposed in the murky light of the streetlamp. It was about the same size as his, a little shorter but a little thicker. With penises freed, the two returned to making out while grinding their respective cocks into each other's. Then JD took the initiative and sank down on Steve's cock, intent on giving a blow job, just as he had read about online. Steve was in bliss. This was his first blow job and he was writhing with pleasure. Sure JD was a little bit on the inexpert side and he was subject to a nick here and there from his teeth, but what he lacked in skill, JD made up for in eagerness. It did not take long before Steve could feel the cum welling at the base of his penis and whispered to his friend "I'm gonna cum."
And he shot his load. Not a huge five-gallon load but a more realistic series of four or five shots, two of which JD caught in his mouth. Steve lifted JD's head to kiss him anew but JD grew wary, sobered up by the semen. After several kisses, he broke away and grabbed his shorts and boxers and said, "I should go. I'll see you in the morning." And he left the car and went into his home.
Steve sat there, de-pantsed, for about a minute and then he pulled his clothes on over his deflated penis and drove home, riding high on his post-orgasmic bliss.
Okay, that was my second installment. Like it? Hate it? Email me at avehoward@yahoo.com
I love getting feedback...the only reason I'm writing this stuff is because of the feedback that I get.