This story depicts sexual relations with consenting teenage boys. You know whether it's legal for you to read this or not. If stories of this nature offend you, I'm not sure how you managed to stumble onto this in the first place, but now is a good time to exit out of this before your girlfriend sees it on your internet history.
Also. The places in this story are very real; the people are far from it. Any resemblance to someone you know, alive or dead, is purely coincidental. Just read the fricken story.
Enjoy!
~Mike.
Lessons in Lifeguarding: Chapter Two
Zack awoke, tangled amongst what seemed like miles of bedding and clothing. His sweat pants were half off his ass, and his red jammers were now uncomfortably riding up his crotch. One of his socks was missing in action and the other was reversed. He hated sleeping in his clothing.
"Fuckkkkk. Sunday is the worst day of the mothafucking weeeeeeek," he groaned to himself, "and I work the shift from hell."
He rolled out of bed, the sun shining all too brightly in his window, and glanced at his digital clock. 10:36. "Just one hour before I get to strangle some bastard child at the pool."
He slid into his bathroom, his morning erection pained by their nearly sixteen-hour imprisonment in swimwear. He yanked them off and freed his cock, eyeing himself in the huge mirror that lined the wall above his bathroom sink. He started to run the water in the shower and felt up and down his flat tummy and rigid nipples. He was getting prickly.
He looked at himself some more, turning to scan his bubble butt. He often tanned with a speedo on, which gave him what were,in his opinion,some of the hottest tan lines in the world. He turned again and ran his fingers down the strong Adonis lines leading to his treasure trove of boy wonders.
"Why wouldn't James want to get with me? Maybe I should start working out again, I'd like a six pack...but then...aeh. I'm hot who cares." He continued to work himself up in a similar fashion before stepping under the steaming spray of his showerhead.
The smell of chlorine filled his nostrils as he rinsed his body, causing his erection to grow more prevalent. He had this weird thing for the smell of chlorine. He stroked his cock as he flashed back to where his sluttiness began. . .
** Zack Elstone, at the tender age of thirteen and three-quarters, stood showering alone after diving practice.
`Why do I always get hard when I see the other guys in their speedos? Brad always tells me to look at the girls, but, guys have so much more...variety.
He continued to soap up his now erect five-inch-dick as he played with his nipples and enjoyed the warm spray of the water. He jumped when he heard the door to the gym stairs shut.
"Zack, you still down there?" A male voice questioned.
"Yeah Coach, just showering up."
He froze again as he heard someone stride down the stairs, and made eye contact with his twenty-year-old diving coach, Allen. He was caught with his hands in the cookie jar-- literally.
"Whoa bud, hope I'm not interrupting something important." Allen laughed.
Zack, embarrassed, just shook his head no, and turned around to finish his shower, a blush creeping through his whole body.
He heard another shower come on and he turned around to see Allen naked under the spray.
"I usually shower up after all the kids have made their way out, but I've got a date after this, so I wanna make sure I'm ready."
"Oh, no problem Coach, I get it," Zack replied, gaping at Allen as his cock swelled to what looked like twice the size of his own.
"What's wrong kiddo, never seen one like this before?" Allen asked after Zack had stared for a good thirty seconds.
Again, Zack just shook his head and turned around. He continued rinsing his body and was about to turn the spray off when he felt a warm body press against his own. He shivered when a strong pair of hands ran down his torso as he melted into the 6'2" figure of his diving coach. He let out an involuntary groan when his coach began to nibble his earlobe.
"You can suck it, if you'd like, boy." Allen whispered into Zack's virgin ears.
"Coach...I...I...don't think we should be doing this," Zack stuttered.
"Don't worry Zack, you'll like what we're about to do. It can be our little secret," the man whispered as he grasped the boys rock hard penis and began stroking, "I'm gonna make you feel real good, baby boy."
"Coach...coach, you should stop that. I think I'm gonna...I'm...oh coach that feels so good I think I'm gonna cum! holy!" and he was cut off as the coach abruptly stopped his stroking and turned him about, "why did you stop??" he was barely able to get out.
"I've got bigger plans for you boy, much bigger," he answered as he grabbed a bottle of conditioner off the bench, squeezing some into his hands and applying it to his enormous cock.
"Coach, you aren't going to mmmmmmmm," he stopped as he felt a slippery index finger go up into his asshole, "wow, well. Wow. Coach I don't think you're supposed to be... OH!" He was stopped mid-sentence as the coach pressed against his prostate with his finger.
"That's right baby boy, sweet baby boy, moan for me," Allen whispered as he began to tongue the boys sweet ear, "I'm gonna shove my nine inch cock onto this button until you come all over yourself, screaming out my name."
Zack, just realizing what the coach's plan was, froze and looked into Allen's eyes with fear.
"Coach, NO. NO NO, you can't do that."
"Hey, boy, shhhh. Just go with it" He answered.
"Coach, really...I gotta go home now, bye." The boy said as he shook off Allen's arm.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP ZACK!" The coach screamed as he shoved Zack's thin frame against the locker room tiles, "I've seen the way you look at me and the other boys. I know you want it. So, I'm going to fuck you today whether you like it or not. Now, you can let me do this slow and you'll like it, maybe even love it, or if you resist, I'll just go in nearly dry and I'll split you into two pieces so hard you won't be able to walk for a week you little faggot."
Zack stood, stunned that his good buddy, his awesome diving coach could be so terrible. Allen turned him around, put his hands against the wall and he cried.
Allen worked his way to three fingers as the boys sobs continued. When he pressed his huge knob against the tiny unyielding pink pucker, he heard the boy sob again and began to lose his erection.
"Zack...Zack kiddo. Baby boy, come here," he said gently as he cradled the boy in his arms, "wow. I don't know what came over me. I just...I've wanted your ass for a while cause it's awesome. I didn't mean to freak you out, I'm sorry."
Both boys cried for a few moments, until Zack looked into Allen's eyes, filled with sincerity, and felt a need to do something he'd never done before.
He pressed his lips against his diving coaches and shoved his tongue right in his mouth.
Allen, absolutely stunned, kissed the boy back, as his erection grew again to full mast.
"Go ahead Allen, if it feels that good with just your fingers...it must be awesome with the real thing.
And as Allen's monster cock pressed against his puckered opening...
Cum splattered all over the walls of Zack's home shower. He moaned as the phallic toy(which he kept hidden in his third bathroom drawer under hair products), that he had been working up his ass for about fifteen minutes while jerking his cock with conditioner as lube, pressed against his prostate, pushing a final pearl of semen from his deflating cock.
He laughed to himself, as he always did after an amazing orgasm, and thought of his `extra diving practices.' Their play continued until Allen transferred to a college out-of-state. He pulled the toy out of his ass, laughing at the disgusting slipping sound it made. He looked at the didlo, ten inches, floppy, and covered in conditioner, then laughed at how ridiculous the translucent green cock really was. He often joked to his girlfriends about having stolen the Incredible Hulk's dick and using it for powers of evil.
He pulled his red jammers back over his slender frame after toweling off from his shower. He worked from 12-6:30: the absolute worst shift on a Sunday because thousands of the children (okay maybe only hundreds) that swarmed the aquatic play center at his community pool.
He went into his room and grabbed a fresh white LIFEGUARD shirt, a pair of sweat pants, and headed downstairs to grab his track jacket and flip-flops. It was 11:30. `Just enough time to get there 15 minutes early, awesome,' Zack said to himself as he grabbed his keys and headed to work
**
Stepping in through the staff locker room, Zack felt his stomach sink when he saw a freshly showered James speaking to the Assistant Aquatics Director. The director looked quite concerned at what James had to say, and then looked over in the direction of Zack, who stood staring at their conversation. The director motioned for Zack to join them.
"Now Mr. Elstone, can you please explain to Mr. Potter that you have absolutely nothing against him?" the director asked.
"Uhhhhh. What?" Zack replied.
"Mr. Potter seems to think that you have some sort of problem with him and asked to switch mentors, but policy clearly states that a new team member MUST mentor for two sessions with the SAME guard," the director insisted.
James took this opportunity to look down at his feet when Zack glared at him and wondered `Who does this kid think he is?'
"I have no idea where he would get that from Lauren," Zack answered with a smirk, "I'm completely ready to show him the ins and outs of the job whenever he's ready."
"See!" Lauren prodded as she handed James his Day Two Training Checklist, "nothing to worry about, Jimmy."
Zack smiled again and walked into the men's wing of the staff locker, pleased with himself. He was standing on his tiptoes, putting his bag at the top of Locker 69 when he heard footsteps behind him. Before he could turn around, he was slammed into the cold plastic lockers and gripped from behind.
"Listen, faggot. The only reason I didn't throw a huge fit about training with you is because I understand that rules are rules." James began quietly, but sternly in Zachary's ear.
Zack didn't know whether to yelp or to quiver when he felt James press his entire body against own.
"You feel this, Zack? This will never be yours. We're going to pretend to be civil here because a: I need this job, and b: I think I can get some major pussy from it, and everyone loves the gay boy's friend. So just keep your faggot mouth shut and we'll be fine for the next two trainings. Got it?" he said as he held onto Zack's shaggy hair, "Good," which he punctuated with a final yank of the hair and press of his crotch.
Zack slid against the wall, not daring to turn and look at the face of doom behind him. `This James kid means business...but I'm Zack fucking Elstone, and we'll see who gets the last here." He stood up straight, brushed himself off, and savored the warm spray of the shower before a six-hour shift of little kids and big problems.
**
James drove home, blasting Mindless Self Indulgence and Simple Plan. His angry mix. His upset mix. His sad mix.
However.
`I did not move all the way from Texas just to go through the same thing all over again.' This had been his mantra. At Zack's house when he finally pushed Zack off of himself. When he approached Lauren to get a new trainer. When his erection began to grow upon intimidating Zack...he couldn't handle going through hell again.
Tears clouded his vision; he blinked them out as he pulled into a local park. He stepped out of his car, and from the second his sneaker hit the earth of the ruddy red running path, he remembered...
"Justin, dude, wait up!" James called after his best friend Justin Davis.
Justin stopped pushing his lawnmower into his shed and faced James, his eyes lighting up upon scanning the familiar form of his best friend—his lover.
"What's goin' on, stud?" Justin answered, albeit sadly.
"I just got off of work, wanna grab some ice cream?" James replied.
"Mmmm, we could, or we could just do dessert here at my place?" Justin answered, not quite up to going out.
"Are you still worrying about everything, babe?" James asked, pulling Justin in for a hug.
Justin leaned into James and started to choke up a bit, "They wrote faggot on my locker..."
James tensed, then hugged his lover tighter, "We'll get through this Jut, don't worry about it."
The boys melted into one another, the taller dark-haired James released a tiny moan as the lean blonde boy sucking his neck began to rub the bulge forming in his lifeguard trunks.
"I love it when you smell like chlorine," Justin whispered, as if justifying his actions.
James slipped his hand into Justin's mesh shorts and ran a thick digit along his puckered entrance.
"I love when you shiver from me touching you here."
"Maybe we should take this inside," Justin panted, not wanting to get caught.
Justin and James. James and Justin. Ever since Justin had moved in three houses down from James the year previous, the two had been inseparable. For a month the two boys had been lovers. For a week, all of their high school had known.
The young lovers retreated to Justin's bed where they made love to one another, unhurriedly and passionately. In the afterglow, Justin lay his head of curly golden hair upon James and began to cry again.
"Jut, baby—what's wrong?" James asked.
"Jimmy...I want you to be happy. If anything ever happened to me, to us...I'd want you to move on and be happy. Please, promise me you'll do that?"
James cuddled his lover closer and ran a hand through his locks.
"Why would you say something like that? Nothing's going to happen...are you still worried about what they wrote?"
"No, no. It's not that Jimmy...I just...I have this feeling. Like I'm going to...to...," he sobbed, barely able to form words, "like I'm going to die soon."
James pulled his boyfriend's chin to face him, "Jut. I'll keep you safe. I'll never let anything happen to you baby boy...don't worry," he consoled as he stroked his lovers hair while they both drifted into slumber.
James tripped over a bump in the path and rolled into some bushes. He broke into sobs, repeating unintelligibly, "I'll never let anything happen to you. Justin..." He cried harder and harder as moments flashed in his mind.
Sirens. Lights. The mangled mess that was once a green SUV and Justin's blue Pontiac Firebird. A man stumbling from the wreckage, unharmed. An EMT clutching his body telling him to stay away.
"But that's my best friend! I know him, I need to see if he's all right." James screamed, frantic. "I told him I'd keep him safe."
The EMT's striking green eyes went soft, looked into James' icy blue stare and uttered the worst words James had ever heard, "There was nothing we could do."
James felt the arms around him, shaking him, screaming his name. He couldn't stop sobbing until he inhaled a great breath and could almost taste the air around himself, a familiar smell, like bleach. He began to calm, remembering where he was. Then his body tensed once again as his thoughts cleared. Chlorine.
Sorry it took me so long to get this out: it certainly wasn't for lack of encouragement! I'm so glad for all the people that e-mailed me to let me know how they felt about the story, keep it up! Also, sorry if I didn't get back to you, I will be much better about it from hence-forward. Also, everyone who e-mailed me before should e-mail me at gmail so that I can get back to you, because I don't want to use my hotmail account for writing purposes!
Thanks for reading! Comments, suggestions, and constructive criticism welcome at mikethepiano@gmail.com. Flames laughed at and sent to my trash bin.