Kent -5: The Match.
The walk over to the gym center passed in a moment. We signed up for a court and made our way outside. Mike tossed me the basketball and said, "Tip off!"
I honestly tried not to favor either player. Kent got it, and quickly made a clean shot. I called out the score, which I what I'd be doing for the next forty-five minutes. We agreed on a fixed time for the game, with sudden death overtime if necessary. I like the arrangement because it meant we had the entire evening to enjoy the post-game play.
As the match progressed, I was thinking that "game" was not the right word at all. Both Mike and Kent were competing as hard as they could. What better motivation could a straight boy, or a confirmed top at least, have to win than saving his untouched ass? Sure, Mike wanted payback just as much as Kent wanted to count another man under him. I expect both of them, however, wanted to keep their sense of manhood fully intact. Mike's apparent shock at seeing me take it on the video made that clear. I kept up with the count.
"Shit!" Kent barked as Mike pulled ahead for the first time.
Before the game, Kent had shucked off his sweats to reveal a pair of green nylon running shorts. They might as well have been chosen for my benefit as they showed off his ass beautifully. He wore a crisp white tank top, getting as much of his broad shoulders open to the breeze as he could while still wearing something of a shirt. A bit of moisture was beginning to appear in the seam of the fabric, just under his arms. At this rate, the shirt would be soaked before the end of the game.
Mike had dressed in full professional basketball battle gear. I'd thought the longish shorts were a little silly, until I saw how they broke so fluidly over Mike's thighs. The crotch seemed cut low, especially compared to Kent's half-ounce of nylon. This gave a great effect each time he turned abruptly. The shiny dark blue shorts would stress briefly and wrinkle up around his groin, creating a great deal of motion and flash just outside his pouch. I could never play this game. I'd be too distracted.
Mike also wore a tank top, but one made of a thin, perforated mesh fabric. It was looser and cut wider around the arms than Kent's. Aside from a slight sheen all over, Mike was not sweating. His number was six. I was thinking sixty-nine. Maybe I'd find a nine. And he was still ahead.
I reached over into my camera bag and got my big SLR. The zoom lens would be fun. As I brought it back towards me, I let the strap catch on the sleeve of Mike's jacket. The soft fleece of the lining brushed up against me, and I couldn't resist leaning on it as I loaded the film. My compact camera was fine for most things, but this was worth the zoom. The outdoor lights were already on, though it was not yet fully dark. This made the players stand out from the background even more. These would be great shots. A minute later I had photos of the very features that had caught my eye and some action too. One of them would be particularly proud of this game.
Initially, my hopes were with Mike. I wanted him to beat Kent and take his prize more than I ever wanted it for myself. Now, seeing them in action, I saw how badly each wanted to win. Kent still had that magnetism for me, and it was starting to erode my earlier preference. He was such a damn good winner that it seemed he deserved to win. The though of him fully taking Mike was pretty hot too, especially given Mike's discomfort with the notion.
The game was changing. Kent had a much more intense look in his eyes, and Mike was starting to sweat from his brow. A thin strip of sweat was making it way down his left cheek. Kent had pulled up to within two points, and I called out the score. I realized what was missing, the squeaking of their shoes against the glossy hardwood floor, punctuated by the beat of the ball. I recalled this more than anything from a game I went to in my freshman year. The outdoor courts were some sort of rubberized blacktop. The hard, pinging bounce of the firmly inflated ball was still there, but instead of the squeaks I heard their breath, and the occasional utterance.
I'd gotten up from the bench, camera in hand, for some new angles. It was fascinating to be so close to the action, and so involved with the players on top of that. I'd nearly forgotten about the clock. I was supposed to call out a warning at ten minutes and at two minutes. They'd been playing for just over half an hour. I held my watch out from under my shirt so I could make my call right on time.
"TEN MINUTES TEN!" I called out. With that, Mike stole the ball as if Kent had stopped moving and brought it skillfully to the basket. Shortly afterwards he did it again. The time warning had kicked on some sort of reserve power for Mike, and it was clear that Kent did not have it. By the time of the two-minute warning, Kent was down by eight points.
"TWO!" It was all I needed to say. Kent cried out a curse and Mike replied by telling Kent this was his game. The hundred-twenty seconds must have passed like a day for Kent. Mike shifted to a strategy of keeping the ball, teasing Kent with it even if it meant passing the chance to widen the score gap even more.
The ball was in the air when I called "That's it! Mike by ten... twelve points!" I was behind the camera as I spoke, and caught a great one of Mike's smile at its best and broadest. He was stoked, gleaming with perspiration and bright-eyed from having snatched back his claim to rule the basketball court.
I think Kent was too tired to fully care. He kept turned away from me until Mike offered his hand. Kent took it and they did some sort of two-step trick handshake.
"You're tough, when you're scared," Kent panted. "Thought I had you again at first."
Mike threw a hand to Kent's shoulder. "Made me work for it, you did, not bad." Mike was less winded than Kent, but still was sucking in the air like he'd just been underwater.
"I got some good ones," I said, waving towards the camera. They both looked over. Kent had his hands on his knees and was leaning forwards. Mike still had his hand on Kent's shoulder and flashed me some of his perfect teeth. Another snap of the shutter and the shot that said it all was recorded. The camera ground its objection. The roll was finished.
"Yeah, these pictures are okay. Now about those other ones." Mike had not forgotten.
"Don't worry about those. It's not quite time to discard your insurance yet. Kent owes you a big one now." I stepped up to them as I spoke. "You guys going to shower here or back at Mike's?"
"Let's go to my place. There's a few beers over there, and my good buddy here certainly earned one tonight." Mike smiled and nodded to Kent.
Kent seemed remarkably cool about this as we headed over to Mike's. I'd expected at least a little apprehension from this twenty year-old jock about to loose his cherry. Sure, I'd given it up without a fuss, but this was Kent at stake.
We settled around the counter in Mike's kitchen as he handed out beers. I put my camera bag up and took a barstool. Kent stood behind me and proposed a toast.
"To our new champion." Kent said as he raised his bottle and clinked it with Mike. "Damn glad we cut that deal too or my ass would be burning right about now."
I didn't even have time to ask before Mike filled me in. "Neither of us really wanted to risk getting it up the ass. We settled on a lesser, private prize instead."
"It occurred to me that it would be odd for one of us jocks to sodomize the other while you looked on." Kent chimed in with his version. "You're such a good bottom, after all. Mike can have you first, since he won. I'll do sloppy seconds this time. We'll start with blowjobs, of course. I told Mike all about how I dick-whipped you the first time, and how that got you so hot for me that you let me cream onto your face."
I gulped. It was all true, of course. The quick turn of events had my dick's attention. I felt it push against the jock I was wearing. It was Kent's jock, taken from the scene of our second encounter.
"All you have on us are those pictures that we were going to destroy anyways. Let's just do it a little early. Hand them over." Kent seemed especially pleased with himself as he poured more beer down his throat.
"I can't." That was about all I could say as my chest had tightened from the apparent certainty of getting double-teamed by Kent and Mike.
"Okay. I'll just help myself." Kent reached into the bag and pulled out my big camera.
"No, wrong camera. I used the little one, remember?" I asked.
"Sure. These are the souvenirs of our game, the one both of us will remember since we both won in the end." Kent looked up at Mike, who chuckled and set his bottle down.
Mike's hands dropped into the pockets of his jacket. The shorts were working their magic as I thought of what to say next.
Kent pulled out my compact camera. "Here it is," he said with a smile. "Maybe you should open it up. It's pretty much all you have, since I have not only pictures but a fucking video of you serving me."
As I popped open the film door, Mike chimed in. "I need to take more lessons from you, dude. You're loving this, and the talk is even getting me up. You've made me want to fuck a guy! I never thought I'd be popping a bone over some dude's ass!"
"Whoops, no film! But I'm sure I put some in here." I poked my finger into the film compartment.
Kent smirked. "Takes care of that. As we were saying..."
I cut him off. "But there must have been film. This camera won't shoot if it doesn't have film." I laid the opened camera on the table and leaned back.
Kent was looking a little angry. "We can play games if you like. Cooperate and we'll be gentle. Bullshit like this and you're going to get a good, hard fucking." Kent reached into the bag and held up a film container, the type that feeds the small camera. "Here it is. I guess you swapped it out when..." Kent stopped. The can was empty.
"You know guys, the only problem with your little plan is that I thought of it. Mike, you're basically a nice and honest guy. I don't trust you around Kent for a minute, though. He'll teach you bad things. You kept your deal with him earlier, but Kent would screw you over in a heartbeat. He's pulled a few on me, as you know." I took this exact moment to take a swig of beer and get off my chair. I walked over to the thermostat and turned it up.
"Hope you don't mind, Mike. It seems chilly in here, especially for bare asses. "I guess I must have thrown that film out when I pitched the stale cheese puffs. Good thing my roommate was there to catch my mistake and fish the bag out of the can. He works at the one-hour photo shop at the mall a few nights a week. I told him to make ten sets unless I stopped him."
"You're a clever bastard, aren't you?" Kent walked up to me and positioned himself squarely in front of me. For once, I didn't marvel at his presence. If I kept my cool, I'd have him by the short hairs for a change. "But I still have pictures of your cum-streaked face next to my big dick. And I have a video of you offering to blow me, doing it, and then taking it up the ass. All you have is some suggestive poses. You lose. And you lose big if you don't get that film back. You want the whole frat to see the video? Maybe your roommate would like it too?"
"Damn it, Kent!" I snapped. "I'd expected the whole frat had already seen it. Since I've let you have your photo fun, I've gotten more great sex than ever. Go ahead. Show each and every one of them. How about the softball team, too? Invite me over for that one. I want to be there when the other guys see how much you enjoy another man. You may be on top, but you're into it, boy, just like me. Except I don't care who knows. You do."
I wandered back to the counter and picked up my bottle. I looked out the window for a moment and took a sip. "Marcus. And Terry. The two Steves. Who else? Who am I forgetting? I'm thinking of guys on the softball team who would love to tape the picture of you kneeling before Mike to the inside of their lockers. I checked out the web page for the intramural teams. I know who they are from the team picture. I can find them."
"Whoa!" Mike spoke up. "Marcus calls you candy-ass and gives you shit anyway." Kent shot a nasty glance at Mike. I was winning this one.
"Bet he'll buy you kneepads too. You'll have to keep them in your locker, because after every game you'll have to make your teammates happy. The only sorry part is that I'll be jealous. Tell me what it's like to taste another man while a dozen of your teammates watch. Sounds hot, doesn't it? What does a used jock taste like when it's still steamy from the balls inside it? Maybe you can bring me the best guys and I'll show them what I learned from you." Kent was still standing tall, but his composure wasn't very solid.
"As for the frat, who there haven't you told? Seems I recall a few guys who gave a suspicious look when I came over to save your ass in that computer class. I wonder if they think you're gay. Could be. I try to keep it down, but they were giving me the same look. Bet they'd like a copy too. Does your frat kick out exposed cocksuckers? I'm sure there's plenty of private fun, but I don't think they'd like to get a rep for giving head." The part of me that questioned giving it up to this guy was stepping forward. The anger I'd felt when I first saw the pictures revived and powered my argument, and it felt good.
I turned to Mike, who had taken the bar stool next to where I had been. I sat next to him, perched slightly up on the seat so that I looked him square in the eyes. "As for you, my friend. I felt a little sorry for you, having to suck four guys and all when it was clear you didn't really want to do it. Or did you? You could have just welched on your promise and claimed it was a joke. I have news for you. It doesn't make you less of a stud to have had a guy or two, especially if you're confident enough to test a curiosity. Your girlfriend will still want it. Maybe if she sees how much you like Kent she'll try harder to fill your every desire." I regretted the last line as soon as I had said it. There was a spark in Mike's expression that let me know I'd just pushed it a little too hard.
"You play dirty." Mike said and looked at Kent.
"Chill, Mike. I told you that I owed you one, and this is it." I paused. "Mike, I actually like you, not that I have any reason for it." He looked away. "Don't get your hopes up too much. You're not my first choice for a date. He's still over there by the wall. And I'm going to show you why I like him so much, even if he is a jerk from time to time. He's great sex." I had leaned forward to put myself right into Mike's face during my rant. I pulled back with a deep breath and turned to Kent.
"Kent, buddy, a deal is a deal. If you two still want to settle up on the side, that's fine with me. But first you pay off for Mike like you promised, and then I'll do my part about the film. It's that simple." Kent looked to my eyes, then down. He glanced over at Mike, still wearing his battle gear. I think only then he finally realized his game was over.
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