This story is completely fictional and any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental. The story also contains explicit sexual acts between males, so be warned!
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Copyright 2013 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.
IT STARTED IN A PARK
by Macout Mann
Chapter 12
Friday
Hardee Gymnasium was named for a Confederate Lieutenant General who defended Sparta against Sherman during the March to the Sea. It had been rebuilt several times but the name remained. The most recent makeover had resulted in one of best facilities in the country.
Vernon arrived precisely at seven and found Sammie huddled on the front steps. "Hi, tiger," he said. "You'd be more comfortable, if you waited inside.
"Bring your gym stuff?"
"Yep." Sammie held up an ancient pair of shorts.
"Follow me," Vernon commanded.
They moved across the main lobby, the basketball court to the right, the entrance to the swimming pool grandstand to the left. The passed the workout areas and headed into the men's locker room. Vernon wasted no time. He stripped and put his clothes in a spare locker and crammed his dick and balls into a jock strap. He pulled on a sleeveless t shirt and a pair of training shorts.
Sammie followed suit. He left his t shirt on and dropped his other clothes into the locker next to Vernon's. Then he got into the shorts he had brought.
"After we finish we need to get you a jock and some decent workout gear," Vernon said, then guided his charge to the treadmills. As he had said there would be, only two other guys were in the workout area.
"It's important to warm up on the treadmill before you get into any heavy shit," Vernon instructed. "Otherwise, you'll have problems. And remember, when you're exercising, always breathe. You'll be tempted to hold your breath, particularly on the weights, but if you don't breathe you'll have problems."
Vernon set Sammie's machine at five miles per hour and showed him how to get started. "I want you to exercise at that rate for at least seven minutes, ten if you can go that long. Then you can rest." He got on the adjacent treadmill and warmed up at a faster speed. Stepping off the machine, he began doing dead lifts while watching Sammie's progress. Sammie stopped the second the clock hit seven minutes.
One of the other men using the facility was a gymnast, an undergrad whom Vernon had known since he'd been at Sparta. Doug Henderson knew Vernon was a doctoral candidate; he didn't know he was now on the faculty.
"Oh thay," Doug teased as Vernon put aside his weights, "I thee you got a little playmate."
"Oh no," Vernon replied, arching an eyebrow. "He's auditioning. If one of you guys gets to go to the Olympics you're going to need a `cousin' to keep you company."
"Not me. I'm straight!"
"Maybe so, but you're not very polite. Everybody's got to start, and he's never had the chance to work out. Some of us are helping to get him started."
Vernon grabbed Doug's hand just below the wrist joint and squeezed. A slight twist could be very painful. "I'm so glad you've agreed to help." He firmly guided the gymnast over to where Sammie was resting.
"Sam," he said, "meet Doug. He's got great technique with weights, and he's volunteered to help you get started on the bench press.
"Doug, I think two and a half pound plates to begin."
Although Doug had been forced into his role, he quickly warmed to the task. Sammie was a total novice, not even knowing how to lie back on the bench, much less how to handle barbells. So Doug found himself enthusiastically guiding his charge to acceptable repetitions, and even added weight before the hour was over.
"That's enough for a first time," Vernon called. He had been carefully supervising while still doing his own regimen.
"Oh Doug, thanks stho much for your help," Sammie sang.
"No sweat, Sam. It was a blast."
Sammie and Vernon left Doug to resume his program and headed for the locker room and the showers. No one else was there, so neither man fretted about getting a hard on. Sammie in particular luxuriated in the warm water as it soothed his already sore muscles.
As they left the showeres Sammie said, "Doug is nice. Nobody's ever called me `Stham' before."
"Maybe we all should start calling you that, tiger."
Sammie noticed the swimming pool off to his right. "I wish I could sthwim," he said out loud to himself.
"They may not have told you," Vernon advised, "but you've got to take four semesters of Phys Ed in order to graduate. You can sign up for beginning swimming next semester if you want to learn how. Nobody else in the class will be able to swim, so..."
"Really? I'd like to do that."
"Well right now, let's head over to Woolco and get you a jock and some decent training shorts."
"I didn't bring any money," Sammie protested.
"No problem. I'll take care of it. You can pay me back."
At the discount store Vernon suggested an Under Armour jockstrap and they selected two pair of gym shorts and two sleeveless ts.
Back in the Mustang, Sammie's hand found its way to Vernon's thigh. "Yall are stho nice to me. Nobody's ever been stho nice to me before," Sammie exclaimed. His hand slipped over to cup Vernon's privates.
Vernon did not protest. His dick was already up.
Without asking Sammie opened Vernon's fly, and as they drove through the semi-darkened streets Sammie went down.
At the same time Christian was feasting on the prong of Captain Rick Worthington.
The two of them had had dinner with Malcolm Pritchard, Christian's boss. During dinner, Pritchard had asked if Correction and Audiology had been able to help the student with the lisp.
"Yes," Christian answered. "Turns out they're doing research on a new therapeutic device and Caldwell was an ideal candidate. We met with them yesterday and I think he's already showing improvement.
"Another thing. I discovered that he's a wonderfully talented artist. I'd like to become his advisor."
"All he has to do is request you," Prichard replied.
After dinner, all three men left in separate cars, but while Prichard headed home, Christian followed the captain to his place.
They relaxed with an after dinner drink, and Rick Worthington brought up the student with a lisp. "You and Malcom were talking about a student with a lisp. That reminded me of something that happened to me a few weeks ago. It was about this time of night. I was headed home, and this kid with a lisp approached me and asked me to bring him home with me to have sex."
"Oh my god! Was he a skinny, college age guy with a sing-songy voice?"
"That he was."
"It was Sammie all right."
Christian shared the whole story with Rick then asked, "So what did you do, if you don't mind telling."
"I sent him running."
"I hope you're not goanna send me running."
"I'm running you to the bedroom."
As they walked down the hall Christian commented, "I hear Sammie is pretty talented. Maybe you shouldn't have chased him off."
"Oh, I did the right thing. And I admire your professionalism. I haven't always been that ethical...when I was in the fleet.
While they undressed, Rick continued. "I was executive officer of the frigate and we got a freshly hatched ensign on board. He was good looking, but should never have been allowed in the navy. Any fool could tell that he was gay.
"He was very engaging, and I let him share my bunk a number of times. Problem was that he was also being fucked by an enlisted man. They were observed by a Chief Boatswains Mate, and regrettably I had to have a major role in drumming both miscreants out of the navy. I'll never forget how the poor son-of-a-bitch looked at me when I put him in hack.
"Since then I've been especially careful...until I met you."
It was then that Christian began to show his appreciation of the captain's body. Sammie was forgotten. They enjoyed the taste of each other and drank each other's juices. Then as Christian thrilled to Rick's prick up his ass, he let him know how surprised he was that the older man could get it up again almost as quickly as Christian could.
"You're only as old as you feel," the captain responded.
"Well, am I as good as your ensign?"
"The best!"