Massaging Gino Chapter 2

GINO 2

Previously:

Gino has recovered his composure, and I reinforce the point to him that I want to keep out of his way at school, so that nobody suspects that we are `best friends', "migliori amici".

He, again, shakes his head at my pronunciation.

He looks at me and says slowly, "Migliori amici," in beautiful Italian.

"Migliori amici," I repeat, smiling, and attempting to copy his pronunciation.

We hug.

"You go first, to the Year 9 lunch area," he tells me. "In case anybody is watching, I'll wait for a minute and then head in the opposite direction to the Prefects' Common Room. That's what anyone would be expecting."

"See you in the morning, Coach," I say, and he swats me, friendly and firmly, on the tail for being cheeky before I open the door and leave.

On my inside, I'm thrilled. However, sensing that people from my class are staring at me, I put my head down and walk as though I have been chastised, trying not to appear happy.

Now:

As I walk, the words keep repeating in my head, as if on a continuous loop, "Migliori amici. Best friends."

The afternoon lessons fly by.

Mum picks me up and comments as we drive, "Did you have a good day, dear?"

"Yes, Mum," I reply. "It was a great day!"

"Why was it a great day?" she asks.

I reply, "Swimming was great this morning, and I've almost got the hang of the arms and breathing going together properly. Coach says that we'll try it without the kickboard next week."

"Is that all?" she says.

"No. Not really," I answer, thinking of what I can tell her and what I can't say. "Some of the teachers were at a conference today, so we had some study periods just before and after lunch." I add, "It was good, because I was able to do all of my homework and catch up on some reading for English."

"That's nice," Mum says, while keeping her eyes on the road.

I feel that it's my turn to ask a question. "Why?"

"Why, what?" Mum replies, glancing at me quickly.

"Why did you ask me if I'd had a good day?" I put to her. "You haven't asked me that since I was in Year 2, that I can remember."

"Well, you just seem happier than usual," Mum replies. "Especially this afternoon. Can't a mother ask her son why he's in such a good mood?"

I know, from experience, that Mum can ask lots of questions and end up finding out all sorts of things that my sister and I didn't want to divulge.

Maybe I can, truthfully, tell her a whole lot of things that will get `Mrs Sherlock Holmes' off my case!

"Well," I start, "I think that I've finally found something that I'm good at. My coach says that I have a lot of potential and he is amazed at how much I've been able to achieve in such a short time. He said that my ability was actually there all along, hiding, and that I just needed to `let it out'."

Then, pushing my agenda not hers, I add everything that I think Mum might want to pick up on. "I've learnt how to dive, and I can swim the width of the pool underwater, and I can now kick properly, and breath to both sides, and I've just about mastered coordinating the arms."

"Anything else?" she asks, not at all taking my diversionary bait.

I have to think harder.

"Well, the other boys have stopped making fun of me for not having a mobile phone," I tell her. "That makes a big difference at school."

"Is that all?" she says.

See what I mean? Sherlock Holmes! Female version! I'm not sure where this is going, and I'm getting a little uncomfortable. I definitely don't want to mention my `migliori amici'. I should look up the Italian for `best friend', singular instead of `...friends', plural.

"I can't think of anything else at the moment," I tell her. "Except, maybe, I'm enjoying not doing the dishes for the rest of the month."

She turns and looks at me, smiles, then focusses back on the road.

I can't help feeling that there's something else on her mind. There's always something else!

I hope that it's not about Gino, or she will ask too many questions.

Or has she extracted enough?

She doesn't say anything, so neither do I.

Thursday morning. We start with a couple of laps of just plain leg work, using the kick board. Then a few more with the breathing included, and then we re-introduce the arm motions.

"Fantastic work, Robbo!" Gino tells me as I stand up at the shallow end. He bends down, extends his fist and I bump it.

"Thanks," I tell him.

"Before we do something different, can you just do two more laps. Except, this time, after you take a breath on each side twice, I'd like you to speed up your kicking for the next two. And repeat that pattern all of the way down and back. Normal kicking for two breaths on each side, and faster kicking for two on each side, and so on. Can you do that?"

"Let me try it," I say.

The first time that I speed up it feels weird. But my legs quickly adjust, and I soon discover a rhythm.

On the way back up the pool, each time that I breathe on the side towards the edge, I become aware of two people looking at me. Not just looking, but watching me, and walking along with me.

When I finish the second lap, the `watchers' head towards the office.

Gino makes no comment about them but compliments me, "Excellent, Robbo. Excellent!"

Putting the kickboard onto the concrete at the end of pool, I say, "Thanks, Gino. What's next?"

"Do you remember that I first commented on your potential as a breast stroker?" he asks.

"Yes," I reply.

"Well," he says, "let's work a bit on that. We should start with the proper kicking."

"OK," I say.

Gino continues, "I want you to hop out of the pool and watch me while I demonstrate."

As I leverage myself out of the pool at the end, he glances, automatically I reckon, at the lumps in my clinging Speedos, then he picks up the kickboard and jumps in.

If he could read my mind, he would hear, `It's OK to look!' as if it was giving him permission. I smile at him.

And he looks again. LOL

Gino explains the kicking mechanics and invites me to observe while he demonstrates.

I walk alongside the pool and note what it looks like from the side. He turns and repeats the half-dozen kicks back to where he started.

"Now, stand at the end, and watch it from behind," Gino says.

I like this angle! But it's hard to concentrate on the kick and not on his tight, athletic glutes. I force myself to note how his legs part and come back together. It even looks good as he heads back towards me.

My brain assembles the side-on and back-side views together. LOL.

"Jump in and try it," Gino tells me, standing up. "I'll walk alongside you on the edge of the pool. Just a short way down and back, like I did."

The first thing that I do, like he did, was check out the clinging Speedos. Nice. Haha, and I know exactly what they are highlighting. I know what's underneath!

I push the kickboard down the pool a bit and back. I realise that it's not too much different to how I had already been swimming under water.

"Pretty good for a first effort," Gino tells me. "Almost right!"

He explains what I'm doing, and what he wants me to adjust.

Second time, he gives me a thumbs-up.

"OK. Let's see you do a full lap," he says.

He offers tips and encouragement from the edge as he walks alongside me, and explains where the power in the stroke comes from.

At the deep end, he grabs another kick board and jumps in beside me. "Glide for a little longer," he says. "I'll swim with you. Do what I do. Stroke for stroke."

We head back towards the shallow end and, with Gino alongside me, I quickly sync with his rhythm.

I glance to the other side, and the `watchers' are back! Walking and watching Gino and me, and whispering.

Again, they head for the office.

I can't even imagine what they have been looking at.

We stand up and Gino is very complimentary. We grab our towels and head for the showers.

We hang our towels on the pegs. Gino looks around and, seeing nobody, pulls me into a close hug, with one hand on my backside. "You are an incredible guy!" he says, then immediately lets me go.

We wash off the chlorine, dry ourselves and pull on our tracksuits.

I don't see him at school, except when I pass him once in a corridor. I'm alone. He's with a couple of other prefects. His only acknowledgment of me is a quick wink. Nobody else would have noticed! Migliori amici! Secret ones. I wonder what the Italian is for `secret friends'.

On the way home, Dad only asks me `sensible' questions. "How's it going?" is the first one. "Are you playing tennis again on Saturday?" is his second.

The first is easy to answer, and I give him a run-down of everything. To the second one I reply, "I think so, but I'll have to check with Gino that it's still OK," adding, "I hope that I get some help with my serve from Franco, the tennis coach, this week."

He changes the subject and comments on how much more `subdued' my sister has been for the past few nights. I grin broadly. He notices. He grins back at me.

Friday is mostly a repeat of Thursday. Except that, instead of the `watchers' I notice the presence of the Coach near Gino and me at one stage.

At the end of our session the Coach intercepts us on the way to the dressing sheds and says, "Hello Rob." Then, directly to Gino, "Gino, can you please get dressed and then come and have a talk with me in the office."

It sounds more like an instruction than a question.

"What's happening?" I ask Gino as soon as the Coach leaves us alone.

"No idea!" he replies.

We shower and change quickly. While getting dressed, Gino asks, "You still OK for tennis tomorrow, Robbo? Same arrangement as last week? Pick you up at one o'clock? Message me if anything changes."

"Absolutely!" I reply, grinning. "I'm really looking forward to it."

"Me too!" Gino says, then comments, "Well, I'd better see what the Coach wants. Maybe it's about the competition tomorrow morning."

"OK. See you at one," I tell him and say, "I'll just wait inside now until I see my Dad."

We bump fists. At least we can do that in public.

Gino goes into the Coach's office and pushes the door behind him, but it doesn't fully shut.

I look out into the car park where Dad usually pulls up. He's not here yet.

I step back a few metres and can hear a voice from the Coach's office, "Gino, I had one of the other coaches come and talk to me about what you have been doing with our new boy, Rob Armstrong."

"What do you mean, Coach?" I hear Gino reply. He sounds very nervous.

I feel very nervous. Someone reported what Gino and I have been doing? How did they know?

The Coach says, "One of the other coaches was watching the two of you together and came to see me about it. Based on what he told me, I called in a couple of outsiders to watch you as well. You would have seen them yesterday."

"Yes, I did," Gino answers. "I wondered who they were."

"And today, I've been watching the two of you more closely myself," I hear the Coach say.

I see Dad's car pulling into the car park entrance and, suddenly remember that I've left my towel in the change room. I dash to retrieve it, sling it over my shoulder, then hurry back.

I realise that I've missed some of what the Coach is telling Gino but, as I pick up my backpack to head out to Dad, I hear the Coach say, "I've already had a conversation with your headmaster, late yesterday afternoon. I'm going to be sorry to see you leave us, Gino."

It almost stops me in my tracks, but I keep walking, and use a corner of my towel to wipe my eyes.

"Hi, sport," Dad says, as I open the door. "Chlorine a bit strong this morning, was it?"

I'm glad that he doesn't focus on my miserable face, choosing instead to navigate his way to the car park exit.

It's only five minutes to our place, and Dad fills that time telling me all sorts of stuff about some guy at his work leaving, which might be a good opportunity for Dad.

I grunt responses to some of Dad's statements at what seem to be appropriate places but I don't really hear what he is telling me.

My mind is focussed totally on Gino. Is he going to be arrested for mucking around with me? He's 18 years old, and I haven't reached the age of consent yet, 16. How could anybody know anything? We've been really careful since those first two days. Did somebody see him grabbing me in the pool that day? Or again the second day? Or hugging me? Or messing up my hair? Or hear us in the showers? Or in the First Aid room? I'm really worried for him. What will my parents say when they find out? And, what will happen to Gino at school? It's all my fault for checking him out constantly that day! If I hadn't done that, he wouldn't have done anything with me and he wouldn't be in trouble with the law now.

I recall the Lifeline talk in assembly, and all of Gino's checked boxes, and I pray that he doesn't take his own life out of desperation and fear of shaming his family!

I put on a brave face over breakfast and, given a choice, let Dad drive me to school instead of Mum. I'd rather get an earful of irrelevant information that a Sherlock Holmes' interrogation!

While Dad is driving and talking, I look up the Italian for `best friend', instead of `friends', on my phone and commit it to memory. And I even find `amici segreti', secret friends, and `amico segreto', secret friend.

"See you this afternoon, buddy," Dad says, before he drives off.

I walk down the driveway. My heart is thumping and my whole body is sweating. I don't see Gino's car. It's not where I discovered that he parks it. He needs his `migliori amico' now more than ever. I want to find him. I have to find him, but I don't know whether I should approach him or what I should say to him if I do find him.

The bell for first period rings and I still haven't found Gino.

At morning recess, I stroll through the Senior's playground, hoping to spot him. I even check the canteen in case he's on duty. His usual car space is still empty. Nothing.

By lunchtime, I'm feeling exhausted. Physically and emotionally. Why isn't he here? I sit in a quiet, shaded area by myself and a million `if-only' regrets run through my head. If I'm feeling this bad, I can't imagine what Gino must be experiencing.

My phone buzzes. It's a message from Gino, <> plus a love-heart.

It's the love-heart that breaks me up, and I try to conceal my tears. Thankfully there is nobody near me. He has been interrogated by the police all day and he still thinks to sends me a love-heart!

My <<R U OK?>> text to him doesn't get a response. I blow my nose and wipe my eyes. And try to breathe.

I can't say anything to Dad about Gino without incriminating myself, so when he picks me up, I just ask him a couple of questions about work. This keeps him talking all of the way home.

I go straight to my room to change, and manage to avoid Mum until she calls me for dinner, by which time I'm feeling more in control of my emotions. Fortunately, my sister's babble doesn't allow for any other conversation. I excuse myself from the table, saying that I was in the middle of a game on my iPad and that I'm keen to get back to it. There are no questions.

I lie on my bed, thinking. Probably overthinking. Everything. Negative consequences. And regrets. And I remember what I heard the Coach say. That he had already spoken to the headmaster, who, I'm sure, would have immediately contacted Gino's parents. I worry that Gino might take his own life overnight. My only comfort is that he still wants to talk with me and still wants to play tennis tomorrow, which tells me that he's not locked up! Not yet!

I pray, really hard, that God will keep him safe until I see him.

Again, my <<Gino, R U OK?>> remains unanswered.

I do not sleep well.

I must have slept at some time because I stir only at the knocking on my bedroom door.

"Yeah?" I mumble, forcing at least one of my eyes open.

Dad comes in, closes the door and sits at the end of my bed. "Are you all right, son?" he asks.

"Huh?" my body responds.

He repeats his question and adds, "Did you have some kind of nightmare during the night? I haven't heard you make those kinds of groaning noises since you were a little kid. Do you remember back then?"

"Not really," I tell him. "What was that all about?"

Dad takes hold of one of my feet, and jiggles it as he talks to me. "You used to have bad dreams about all kinds of things, but usually being chased by some kind of monster."

"Oh, yes," I say. "Thanks for reminding me." Sarcasm!

"So, are you OK, Rob?" Dad asks for a third time.

His words instantly remind me of my messages to Gino. But Dad needs an answer.

Fortunately, my creative brain is up to the task. "I don't remember much Dad," I tell him, "except maybe that there was a whole bunch of guys at school, jealous of my new iPhone, that were trying to get it away from me."

I turn to my night stand and look at my phone. I need to check if Gino responded during the night.

Dad follows my eyes. "It's still here!" he chuckles to me. "Looks like the bad guys didn't get it. You must have outrun them!"

"Thanks, Dad," I tell him. "I'm fine, but thanks for checking in on me."

"Love you, son," he says. "See you for breakfast in about ten minutes?"

"Sure," I say.

He pats my leg, stands up and closes my door again on his way out.

I grab my phone. This is urgent!

I see the notification of a message from Gino! Yes! At last!

I open it and read: <<Hey, Robbo. SUP? Pick you up at 1:00. Talk then. G>>

I look at the time when he sent it. 2:05 am? What the hell was he doing awake at that time? Was he thinking of doing something bad to himself? Unlikely, because he was thinking of me and said he would be picking me up later. Was he getting an earful from his family? I hope not. Maybe he just needed to pee.

Hey! The power of suggestion!

My feet quickly find the floor and I check the front of my pyjamas before heading for the toilet. Not wet and sticky. Phew!

Hurry!

I pull down the front of my pyjamas and underpants and let fly! With my hand firmly wrapped around my semi-hard morning wood, I imagine Gino holding me and me holding him. And of letting fly a stream of white stuff on the massage table in the gym at school.

It becomes more difficult to pee as my dick gets harder.

Now that I know how, I'm really tempted to jack off, but I really want Gino to do it for me.

Cold water on my face and arms helps `things' to go down.

I'm in a much better mood than I was twelve hours ago, and I enjoy breakfast.

My little sister doesn't even get under my skin, making fun of my newly-discovered abilities. She'll be sorry! At the right time, she's going to end up doing the dishes for a way lot longer than a month. Haha!

Dad says he has an early golf game.

My sister is going to a friend's place for the weekend. Yeah!

Mum's going shopping.

And I'm going to play with Gino. On the tennis court and in the gym!

Dog poo first.

He's early, but I'm really excited to hear Gino's car, and I'm down the stairs and opening the door almost before he turns off the engine.

He gets out of the car and walks toward the house, probably expecting to greet Mum or Dad again. "Jobs all done?" he asks, smirking at me. I don't understand why he's in such a good mood.

"Yes," I tell him. "I've been waiting for you. I've been home alone for about an hour. Everyone's out. Golf. Sleepover. Shopping."

"Happy to see me, are you?" he asks, checking out the front of my tennis shorts.

"You have no idea!" I say. Then, with my heart beating faster, I ask, "Hey, would you like to come up and see my bedroom?"

He is silent for a few moments. "Are you sure that it's OK?" he asks.

I swallow hard. "No better time!" I tell him. "Mum shops for hours. Dad won't be back till this afternoon and my sister is gone for the rest of the weekend."

I look at his tennis shorts. Maybe he's happy to see me too.

"C'mon," I say to him.

Inside, I waste no time in leading him up to my room and I close the door. I don't need to, but I'm not used to leaving it open.

He makes a comment about how neat and clean my room is. I reply, "Well, I don't want my mother coming in here to tidy things up! She might find things that I don't want her to see."

Gino doesn't ask, but I think of my pyjama pants and a couple of sexy magazines under my mattress.

It's not hard to `show him around'; I just point at things. My bed is last. "This where I dream about you, mio migliore amico," I tell him.

"Is it comfortable, Robbo?" he asks, grinning.

I couldn't have planned a better scenario to get him onto it! "Why don't you try it?" I say.

He sits, bounces a few times, then lays himself down, with his head on my pillow.

"What do you think?" I ask, staring at his handsome body, and the bulge in his tennis shorts.

"Very comfortable," he replies. Then he looks into my eyes and asks, softly, "What's it like with two people?"

"Don't know!" I tell him. "Never tried that."

"Want to find out, now?" he says, grinning.

Hey! I don't need a second invitation! This is almost like one of my recent dreams! Not the nightmare one! The one where I ended up with wet pyjamas!

He moves over a little and I lay myself down next to him. He takes my hand, and we just lie together. I'm in heaven!

Then, "Not bad for two," I say. "But there's really not much room, is there?"

Gino answers, "What about this then...?" and he rolls on top of me. Then he kisses me on both cheeks.

I kiss him back. On both cheeks.

We both laugh.

He moves sort-of like doing a push up and rubs his hard dick against mine. "Nice!" he says.

"Hey, can I please try that?" I ask.

He rolls off me, onto his back, and helps me onto him.

He wraps his arms around me then lets one hand grasp my butt. I feel his hips rise and fall, lifting me up and down, and I love feeling of his dick and mine pressing against each other."

"How long will your mother be gone?" he asks.

"Not sure," I tell him, "but she only left an hour ago. She told me where she was going, and that's about 20 minutes away. I can't imagine that she'd be back for at least another 15 minutes at least. Maybe a half hour. Maybe even longer. Why?"

"Would you like to do this with no clothes on?" He asks. "We can be quick."

I wasn't expecting this, but my throbbing dick makes the instant decision for me.

Without answering, I roll sideways, stand up and start to strip off.

Gino does the same. Matching Speedos again today, I see! Then they come off too.

Our dicks are both fully stiff with excitement.

He pulls me into a hug and, with our naked bodies pressing against each other and our hands squeezing each other's butts, we swap Italian kisses.

We urge each other to my bed, how we were a couple of minutes ago, with me on top of him. We wrestle and push our bodies together and roll back and forth. We end up with him on top of me.

"Wait, Robbo," he tells me.

He raises himself, adds some spittle to his dick, then pushes it under my balls and between my legs. Then he lays on me again and he starts pushing it in and out, between my legs. I feel that it suddenly becomes very slippery down there and he starts to groan as he pushes. I grab both of his glutes and feel them contract each time that he pushes. I love this feeling of his glutes contracting and of his dick sliding between my legs!

"Oh, Robbo," he says. "This is so amazing. You want to try it?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, rolls us over so that he is on the bottom, then helps me to put my dick between his legs. I push a couple of times.

He says, "Stop for a minute."

He pushes me off him, then I watch as he squeezes his dick from the bottom to the top, then rubs my dick. It's really slippery.

"Where did that come from?" I ask him. "It feels like the massage oil, only better."

"It's called `pre-cum' and happens when I get excited and before I spurt," he says, returning my dick to its former position.

I let the full weight of my body down onto his, and my dick just glides down and sinks between his legs. I re-start pushing. I make my hips rise up and I push down. "OMG!" I tell him. "You were right. This feels absolutely fantastic."

I keep going, making `oh yeah' sounds until I feel a tingle. I say, "Gino, I think that I'm going to..."

I freeze.

He quickly pushes my hips up, grabs my dick and holds it, pointing at his stomach. I spurt and spurt and spurt. Most of it is in his hand. Some is on his stomach and in his hairs.

He wets his dick with his handful of my stuff, then grips my butt and holds me against him and starts to push against my body. I feel him sliding on my stomach. I hear him groaning. I feel him spurting. I feel him relax.

I love the feeling of his sexy body against mine, and me lying on him.

"Well, I hadn't planned for this to happen," he whispers to me. "But I'm really glad that it did. What about you, Robbo? Are you OK?"

My brain is constantly repeating, `I'm having sex with my school vice-captain! I'm having sex with my best friend! I'm having sex with my swimming coach! I'm having sex!'

"Absolutely!" I tell him, interrupting my own day dreams. "I'll remember this day forever! Especially since I may never see you again."

I regret my words immediately.

I'm not supposed to know about him being locked up by the police! I hope that they're not watching my house, and that they haven't been using that eavesdropping sound-technology that I see on TV to listen in on us.

"What?" Gino says, looking up at me, his face changing instantly from thrilled to terrified. "What are you saying? What's wrong?"

"Isn't that what you wanted to tell me about today?" I ask him.

"Where on earth did that come from?" he questions me, his body tensing.

I say, "I didn't mean to overhear what the Coach said to you yesterday, Gino. I'm sorry. I thought that you were going to tell me today about being arrested by the police and locked up."

"What?" Gino repeats. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"While I was waiting for my Dad yesterday, the Coach's door wasn't closed properly," I say, very apologetically. I heard the Coach say that you had been reported by one of the other coaches for mucking around with me. The Coach told him to watch us carefully and then he called in two plain-clothes detectives who were watching us on Thursday. I also heard him say that he had already told the headmaster about it, and that he would be sorry because you had to leave. I thought he meant that you were going to be sent to jail."

His body relaxes. His face alters. He starts laughing. "You're having me on, Robbo. You're playing a joke on me, aren't you, you little devil!" And he grips my butt really hard. "That was really cruel, Robbo. Why would you do that?"

He starts to tickle me.

However, I don't giggle. I start to cry. "Why are you laughing?" I blubber to him. "It's not funny. I don't want you to be locked up. It's all my fault. I started it by checking out your dick!"

He hugs me with one arm, squeezes my butt with the other then starts to rock me. I feel like a baby.

He kisses me. Not Italian-style. First on my wet eyes, then, holding my head with both hands, on the mouth. "You are priceless!" he tells me.

He just holds me until I regain some composure.

"So, you're not going to be locked up?" I ask him.

"No." is his simple answer.

"But, I heard..." I start.

He cuts me off. "Let's have this conversation in the car. Carlos and Franco will be waiting for us. Do you have any tissues?" he asks, looking around and at all the stuff on our bodies.

"Better than that," I tell him, reaching under my pillow. And I produce my pyjama pants.

He laughs. So do I.

They weren't wet and sticky this morning, but they certainly are now! And not just my spunk! Now they have Gino's too. I'll probably add some more tonight. LOL.

He cleans us both up and we get dressed. I gather my tennis gear.

"Hey," he says. You'd better open a window to let in some fresh air. Or let some smelly air out!

As we get into his car, he puts my back pack behind us, reaches for his gym bag, and produces some deodorant. "Here, spray this under your shirt. You'll smell nicer," he tells me.

I do it, then he takes the can from me and `sweetens up' his own body too.

We don't speak again until the car is cruising in top gear. Then he starts, "Franco is going to give you some help with serving today. I spoke with him yesterday."

"Tell me about yesterday," I say. "What was so funny about what I heard? And don't leave out anything or it could get painful!" I put my hand in his lap and feel for his balls.

"Have you ever heard the expression `A little knowledge is dangerous'?" he asks.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I answer, loving the roundness of his balls in his shorts. He parts his legs to give me better access. He likes this. He's gay. Maybe I'm gay because I love it too.

"It has everything to do with yesterday," he says. "You only heard part of what the Coach told me, and then you made up a whole incorrect story around the missing bits. That was dangerous!"

"So, what did I miss?" I ask.

"Did you miss me?" he answers, easily locating my semi-hard dick with his gear-changing hand.

"Of course I did!" I tell him, and I open my legs wider. "But that's not what I meant."

"Let me start at the beginning," Gino says. "Firstly, the other coach didn't see us mucking around together. I told you that I was being careful, didn't I? What he saw was me coaching you and noticing a miraculous change in your ability. And that's what he told the Coach."

"So, he didn't report you for anything?" I ask.

"Only for being a terrific coach," Gino answers me. "He should have reported you instead, for being a terrific student!"

"What about the two guys who were watching us on Thursday?" I put to him. "Weren't they the police?"

"Hardly," Gino replies. "I didn't know who they were at the time, but it turns out that they were two staff from the Australian Institute of Sport, who were invited by the Coach to watch you, Robbo. He showed them the first videos that he had taken of you, then suggested that they look at you now. Do you remember what you were like in that video that Coach sent to your dad? And he even took one before that!"

"Hell, yeah!" I answer. "And, that video got me out of doing dishes for a month."

"Apparently, they had a long discussion with the Coach, then said that, based on the improvement that they saw in you, and after watching me with you, and if you continued to improve under my coaching, then they were prepared to possibly offer me a full scholarship to study coaching at the AIS, Australian Institute of Sport, in conjunction with the Australian National University, starting next year. That would include accommodation, meals and all tuition fees. Not that my family couldn't afford it anyway, but it's the achievement and the honour of the thing that is so wonderful! And I would get to work with Australia's top swimmers and other athletes, including our Olympic team members. The coach was so pleased for me that he rang the headmaster at school and shared the good news with him."

"Where is the AIS?" I ask. "Will you have to move away?"

Gino says, "It's in Canberra. That's only a couple of hours down the freeway. Three at the most."

"So, you WILL be moving away!" I state, and remove my hand from his shorts, as a show of my displeasure.

Gino doesn't remove his hand, but gives my balls a jiggle. "C'mon, Robbo," he says. "I am leaving school at the end of this year anyway, and who knows where I might have ended up. This way, we will still be close enough for me to come home at weekends, and get together with you, if you want me to."

"Of course, I want you to!" I tell him. "Especially after what we just did in my bedroom! I want you every weekend."

He takes hold of my hand and guides it back to the front of his shorts. "We have months to sort out the details. Maybe your parents would let you come and visit me during the holidays, maybe stay a while. I haven't checked everything out yet, but there might even be a possibility at the AIS for you, too, if you keep improving like you have done so far. I reckon that the Coach may want to enter you in our club competitions soon. What do you think of that?"

I think to myself, `So if I don't improve, Gino won't be offered a scholarship and he won't have to move.'

However, I couldn't do that to him! This is important to him! And for me! With Gino's help I can become a somebody instead of a mummy's-boy-nobody. I face the reality of what Gino has said, and accept that things could be a lot worse!

Gino removes his hand from my shorts as we approach the school. "Ok. Here we are! We'd better allow our excitements time to go down! Think of being in a really cold shower."

It takes a couple of minutes to slowly drive down to the tennis courts.

By then, "I reckon that I'm OK to get out now," I tell Gino. He knows what I mean.

"Give me an extra minute," Gino smiles. "I think that I'll adjust my imaginary shower from cold to freezing. And have my mother walk in on me. That'll do it."

I tune in to his imagination and picture Mum doing the same to me. My dick shrinks even further!

We collect our tennis racquets and head into the court. Franco and Carlos come over to greet us.

"Hello Rob," they both say to me, and we bump fists. I acknowledge them by name. Gino does the same.

Franco starts, "Have you been practising what you learned last week, Rob?"

I have to be honest. "Not much, Franco. Either my sister or my Mum kept complaining about the continual thumping of the tennis ball on our back wall and I had to stop. So, my practice time was very limited because there are not many times when I'm home and they're not!"

Gino looks at me and winks. I smirk. My balls tingle.

"Ok, let's have a bit of a hit, in pairs. We can swap around," Franco says. "Then, when you are warmed up, we can have a look at your serve. Carlos can start with Gino, and you and I can hit together."

Franco and I move to the adjacent court.

He is very gentle, hitting balls to positions on either my forehand or backhand so that I can easily do the footwork and backswing preparation. "Good... Very good..." he encourages. "Get the front foot set a bit sooner... racquet back..."

I'm feeling very good about how I'm hitting them. "Excellent!" Franco calls from the other end of the court. "You could do with a bit more practice. Let's hope that your sister and mother go out a bit more often!"

Gino hears. He and I look across at each other and grin.

"OK! Let's swap," Franco announces. "Carlos with Rob and Gino with me." Then he adds to his brother, "Be kind to him Carlos!"

I enjoy hitting with Carlos. He and I both return the ball so that it's within easy reach. However, he gradually turns up the intensity and offers me some advice of his own. "Get set as soon as you can. Move into position and then take the racquet back, ready to hit. A bit more side-on for a better swing."

We get a good rhythm going. Even Franco and Gino stop to watch. At the end of a long rally they both applaud.

"OK, Rob," Franco says. "Come over here, and we'll look at your serve. Gino and Carlos can play a set and then you can play with Gino when Carlos and I leave.

Again, Gino looks at me. He and I obviously read much more into the words than what Franco intended. LOL.

He gets me to show him how I set up and serve, and is very patient and encouraging in correcting just about everything that I do.

In the end, I'm getting about three quarters of my serves into the right court over the net.

"Don't worry about hitting them hard," Franco tells me. "That will come with practice." He finishes with, "Excellent work! You might end up playing tennis for your school in another year or so! Keep at it, Rob."

We watch the `end' of the set between Gino and Carlos, with Franco giving me pointers on what each of them is doing well. They call it a draw at 4 games each.

I have to confess that I was focussing a lot on Gino's fantastic backside. Round and muscular. But, better in Speedos. Even better without them!

"OK, we need to be off," Franco says, looking at his watch. "Good to see you guys again. Not sure what we're doing next week. Gino and I can text each other. C'mon Carlos, let's go."

I thank Franco for all of his help and we bump fists.

Carlos and I shake hands and he encourages me to keep practising. "I look forward to being here on the day that you can beat Gino!" he tells me.

"I heard that!" Gino trumpets to Carlos. "And I look forward to seeing him beat you too."

Franco adds his bit, "Who knows, he could possibly beat both of you one day!"

With laughter all `round, they leave.

"So, now we can play together," Gino says. Then he adds, "Out here, or inside?"

The racquets go back into the car and Gino locks the courts.

We go into the gym and, like last week, Gino deactivates the alarm and the CCTV, and locks the door behind us.

We strip down to our Speedos and I surprise myself by my boldness. "Where should we play, Gino? Massage table or showers?"

"We can do both, Robbo," Gino answers. "It depends on where you would like to finish. Know what I mean?"

I'm not feeling at all inhibited with him. "You mean, where do we want to spurt our spunk, don't you?"

"That's exactly what I meant, Robbo. Your choice," he tells me.

"Well, I enjoyed what we did last week on the massage table," I say. "But I really enjoyed what we did on my bed earlier, too. What do you think, Gino?"

He offers, "What if we start on the massage table, get each other really excited, without spurting, then finish each other off in the showers if we soap up our bodies and rub them together, like in your room?"

"Excellent!" I tell him. "But I have one request."

"What would you like, Robbo?" he asks me.

"Instead of me lying on the table, can I massage you first and do what you did to me last week?"

"Sure!" he says. "And maybe I can help your massage technique. Although, there was nothing wrong with how you did my neck and shoulders the other day at school!"

He sets everything up, including the oil.

"Leave your Speedos on, too," I say. "Just like last time."

I put the oil on his muscly back and broad shoulders and spread it around. Across. Back and forth. Up and down. Last week I enjoyed his hands on my body. Now, I love exploring and feeling his excellent body. I'm already getting hard!

"You can press a bit harder," he comments. "I won't break."

I do it all again, pressing more deeply.

"Oh, nice!" he groans. "Excellent!"

"Time for the legs," I say, as if I'm in charge.

In response, he opens them, more than I did the first time, then, "Go for it!" he tells me.

I spread some oil on both thighs, even his calves. I firmly rub one leg from near his backside down to his ankle then up again, stopping just short of his Speedos. I can see where his balls are. But not yet! Three times, like he did to me.

I do his other leg exactly the same. Fantastic muscles!

I even remember his words, and I repeat them. "Right-o. Turn over."

"Great job, so far," he says, lying on his back. "And nice touch, including my calves!"

And, just like he doesn't adjust his clinging Speedos at the pool, he makes no attempt to release the swelling in the front of them now. I'm sure that it's sticking up way more than mine did last week!

I start on his chest, but it's less of a massage and more of me just getting the chance to play with his firm pecs and his flat abs. I store the feeling away in my memory for a `nice' dream at night.

Then I oil his "quad muscles," naming them as I do it.

"You remembered!" he comments.

"I try to remember everything," I reply. "Tell me if I miss something."

"No prob, Rob!" he says, then laughs at his mini poetry.

"Like I've never heard that before!" I jokingly sneer at him.

I spread the oil downwards but apply more pressure working back up. Working up the inside of his thigh, it's hard to avoid his balls, so I don't even try, like he didn't. I press right into the crease of his leg and his dick jumps. Three times.

I do the same to the other thigh, deliberately brushing his other ball, and enjoying watching the effect on his dick when I push in, underneath it. I see a wet patch on his Speedos near the end of his dick.

With his hand by his side, he doesn't wait for me to rub my body against him. He reaches for my dick and balls and starts to play. This all feels so naughty, and yet so exciting!

I've been anticipating and looking forward to the next bit. I rub across his quads and work my way right up to the top. Without delaying anything, I move my hand right on top of his erection and leave it there.

Well, I don't just leave it there. I start to play with him, like he's doing to me. When his dick jumps, so does mine.

Unlike last time, I pull the top of his Speedos down, releasing his stiffness. It virtually jumps out. I play with his hairs, and his balls and his dick, which is already leaking pre-cum.

"Do we need to go to the showers yet?" I ask him, showing him how wet and sticky and excited he already is, by rubbing it down his penis.

"Not just yet," he replies, and his hand pulls down the front of my Speedos and hitches it under my balls. Everything is hanging out and sticking up. We play with each other. I love it!

Do you want me to massage you, or just keep playing until we need to go to the showers?" he asks.

"You could massage me in the showers," I reply, and I keep playing. So does he.

It's only when my own dick gets wet and slippery and I start to moan, that Gino says, "It's probably time to move now."

We don't bother covering ourselves with towels, and head straight for the showers.

Gino adjusts the water, steps in, fills his hands with liquid soap and motions me to join him.

He pulls me into a close hug and immediately begins to soap up my back as far down as he can reach, which is past my glutes. He washes between my legs, brushing over my hole multiple times, without stopping to `give me the finger'. Then, with me leaning my front against his, he gives me a stand-up version of a back massage, with soap instead of oil. I feel great. I love the feeling of his hands rubbing all over me.

"OK. My turn," I say and he lets me do the same to him. It feels weirdly wonderful washing his backside and between his legs. I decide to be daring and I rub a soapy finger deliberately back and forth across his hole.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"I thought that you said you might like this," I tell him. "So, I'm seeing if you do."

"Keep going," he laughs. "You can even put your finger in, if you want to."

After a while he reaches for more soap. He washes under his balls and between his legs, then takes hold of my dick and positions it where he has just soaped. "Go for it," he says, "Just like on your bed this morning."

I know what he means and, holding his hips, I push my dick in as far as it will go, with me leaning fully against him. It's so soapy and slippery, and feels so good. I pull it out then watch it disappear again. And again. Then I hold myself against him and just let my hips take over; pushing in and pulling out.

"OMG," I say. Then I let out an expression that I'm not used to saying, "Fuck, this is so good!"

When I start to speed up, Gino asks, "You want to spurt or wait?"

"I don't thing that I can wait," I say. "It's gonna spurt. It's coming!"

He reaches for my glutes and grips them as they contract while I push and push and spurt. "Aargh!" I shout again and again.

He wraps his arms around me and holds my body against his, allowing me time to catch my breath.

"You liked that, didn't you?" he asks.

"What do you reckon?" I answer. "This is the best feeling that I've ever had. Fuck! OMG!"

We separate and he washes my dick.

"Your turn!" I tell him. "Go for it! I want you to have fun like I just did."

He positions my back against the wall, soaps himself up, and under my balls then he slowly `inserts' his dick between my legs. All the way. Then slowly pulls it back. "Watch!" he tells me.

His dick disappears and reappears. I hold my dick out of the way so that I can get a better view. I love the view of it going in and out!

Then he surprises me. "Turn around," he says.

I face the wall and I feel his dick going in between my legs and pushing up against my balls as it comes through. He pulls back and does it again.

"It feels even better like this, from the back," he tells me. "I love the feeling of your muscly young backside on my stomach."

Then he turns us both around so that he is leaning back leaning against the wall; my backside is still against his front. He puts his arms around me, takes hold of my dick with one hand, then really starts pushing his in and out. I see the head of it poke out from under my tight balls with each of his thrusts. This is so sexy that my own dick gets hard again.

He keeps going. Pushing, thrusting, thrusting. He starts to groan and I feel his body start to tremble, from his knees up. He holds me tighter.

"I'm gonna cum Robbo," he growls.

I feel one really hard thrust against my backside, and he lets out a loud `F_AR_K'! I watch his dick spurting from under my balls. Like a hose. Again and again. He trembles and spurts and shakes and spurts.

When he relaxes his grip, I spin around and hug him, face to face, with one hand on his dick and the other around him on his backside.

He gives me a `Gino kiss', one on each cheek and one on the lips, then looks down and says, "Looks as though you are still excited! Would you like me to try to get you to spurt again?"

"I'm not sure that I can," I say. "But you can try. How do you want me?"

"Just stand against the wall and leave the rest to me," he says.

Then he kneels down in front of me.

Don't tell me that he's going to...

And he does! With the help of one hand, he takes my dick into his mouth and starts sucking it. With the other hand under my balls, he reaches for my hole and pushes the end of his finger in, and wiggles it.

I'm about to say something, but it feels so good that I just let him continue, and moan with the feelings of incredible pleasure that he is giving me.

I get totally lost in the ecstasy of what I'm feeling that I forget to warn him. It's only when I spurt that I realise my dick is still in his mouth.

I suddenly become very weak, but feel secure, limp in Gino's arms.

"OMG, Robbo," he finally says, when I recover, "That was three times in only a couple of hours. Are you going to wipe all of my achievements out of the record books?"

We laugh and share expletives of mutual satisfaction, have a final wash and head out to get dressed.

I have a whole new appreciation of his body and of my own. He wants mine and I want his.

I'm pretty sure that I'm gay.

I will never, ever, be able to look at his body in his tight school uniform again without picturing him naked! And imagining him ready to rip everything off and have sex with me.

How can I realistically wait another whole week before I get to do all of this again?

And I wonder, what else can he teach me?

Gino is one of a series of `Massage Tales' (A-Z) that I have been writing.

The others posted so far are Adam, Brock, Callum, Dylan, Evan and Flynn

If you are interested, they are at

nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-friends/massage-tales

(Sorry about the misspelled link after Part 1)

If you want something closer to high school ages, check out:

http://nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/kurt-series

And, if you feel like it, please take a couple of minutes to say hello at

rob.zz@hotmail.com

I do try to reply to everyone, but please be patient.

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