from The Inferno BBS
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OLYMPICS '88 by Zipper Bird xgort@yahoo.com
"Victor Prickupaskovitch of the Soviet Union will be the next to skate" Dick read from his teleprompter, not quite believing he had just blurted a name like that to millions of television viewers. He looked at Jim Makay beside him, whose eyes widened suddenly but then narrowed as he asked an adroit question about Victor's chances for a medal. "Maybe not in this Olympics Jim, but watch for him four years from now, when his body and skating will have hardened and ripened into a fine specimen by 1992..." Dick said, feeling slightly unhinged. "Body hardened and ripened" he thought to himself, "did I really say that?" Victor skated to the center of the ice wearing only tight blue satin pants, no shirt, and the crowd was audibly shocked at the sight of this broad shouldered, shirtless youth, whose flesh was glistening with sweat like a gladiator in battle. A shudder of desire ran through Dick Button's body causing a ringing in his ears such that he couldn't hear what Jim Makay was saying, nor could he hear his cues through his headphones. For several seconds his mind went blank and he felt a stream of saliva wending its way out of the corner of his mouth and down his chin, just as his thoughts suddenly manifested themselves in words to the viewing audience. "My God this one is so fucking butch. I'd give anything to kiss that sweet mouth and run my tongue over his sweaty balls and suck that dripping dick dry." The words came out uncontrollably. Jim Makay's face blanched and his mouth dropped open. He quickly signaled the control room to switch to a commercial as the monitor showed a small boat floating in a toilet. "New lemon in the tidy bowl for you," a little man sang, "the official toilet bowl cleaner of the winter Olympics." Two camera men had abandoned their posts and Dick felt himself being hauled over the railing behind the ABC box, feet first. His head bumped against a railing, and he woke up in a sweat, wife snoring away next to him. "I should have known it was a nightmare," he thought to himself as he lay panting on the bed with three more weeks until the opening of the Olympics, "Tidybowl is not one of our official sponsors," he thought as he turned to see his ugly wife's face in the morning light, a golden strand of spittle stretched from her mouth to the pillow. "Could she be having the same dream?" he thought as he closed his eyes and tried to conjure up a picture of the bare-chested Victor.
Mike Velez stood stupidly looking at his back change loop figure tracing, wishing the asymmetry of one of his loops would magically correct itself before coach Peter Pudesco inspected it and threw one of his connipcious fits. The Olympics were only a week away and the atmosphere in Lake Placid, where many athletes were training, was charged with excitement as if the Olympics were going to take place there instead of Calgary. Pudesco, fortyish, balding, with all his good fucking years behind him, lumbered over to inspect the tracing and showed little expression in his face betrayed only by a involuntary twitching in his left eye. Inside his head, he was letting out a high pitched girlish scream, partly in anguish at the lopsided loop and partly in delight at the thought that Mike was going to be his first student in the Olympics, but with such bad figures. Even though his free skating was pretty good, these figures were libel to land Mike in an uncoveted 19th place. Still, Mike had one of the nicest bodies a skater could have and coach Pudesco wished that the figure judges would somehow be hypnotized by the sight of his backside and forget the figure tracing completely. "If medals were awarded for buttocks," coach thought to himself, "Mike would win the gold for sure." Mike Velez had dual citizenship. Born in Venezuela, he earned a berth on the Olympic team competing for that country, even though he grew up and lived most of his adult life in Lake Placid. Now 21, Mike was a senior at the State College at Potsdam, which had a rink where he trained intermittently. Mike's handsome face, creamy cafe au lait skin, and perfectly developed ass had made him an idol with the campus gay set and he'd been written up in the school newspaper several times as being Potsdam's Olympic hopeful. Mike carried a B average as a dance major and was also on the swim team, which he joined just so he could spend time in the shower looking at naked teammates' bodies. Still, homosexually speaking, Potsdam was a bit of a wasteland. Nearly three quarters of the students were female, and Mike looked forward to meeting real men, and the few Olympic gay athletes that there would be in Calgary.
As Mike's plane touched down in Calgary, he felt a rush of excitement. "Here I am, at the Olympics" he thought. Just being there to compete was a miracle for him. He really wished his dead mother could be there to watch him skate. Unfortunately, with seating space for skating events at a premium, dead relatives were not allowed in the arena. Mike's father would stay at home watching TV, and probably not the Olympics. When Mike was a kid, Mr. Velez wanted his son to play baseball but Lake Placid was not a baseball mecca and so Mike learned to skate, with his mother's encouragement, and much to his father's chagrin. To this day, it was a source of embarrassment to him that his son had turned into one of those "ice faggots." When talk at the local beer joint turned to children, Mr. Velez pretended he had only a daughter, who, ironically, had also been a dance major at Potsdam, and was now married with children and living in Watertown.
Mike had met the two Brians in the last World Championships, which had been his first. Brian Boichaser of San Francisco was a nice gay guy, and a terrific skater and all, but not Mike's type. Brian Orifiz of Canada was slightly more appetizing but after all, both of these guys were going to be shitting their pants trying to win the gold medal, and weren't going to make an easy lay during these Olympic games anyway. In fact, Mike was more interested in the speed skaters, and specifically, a certain Kurt Hilgarth of Austria, who was rumored to be "c'est ca" as the French say, gay. Kurt had been warned by the international speed skating federation that due to his genital size, he would simply have to wear restraining underclothing in international exhibition. This unprecedented ruling was not published in any magazine, but a picture of Kurt was, and in this case, a picture was worth a giant zucchini. In Mike's mind, this made Kurt all the more enigmatic. He wondered what kind of big dicked guy would have the audacity to skate around the speed oval wearing no underwear.
The Olympic Village was buzzing with excitement, an air of forced international friendliness, and there was also tension. Several of the Canadian competitors looked particularly comatose from nerves as they bore the weight of their country's and hometown honor on their shoulders. Their cheeks were beginning to ache from the frozen smiles they maintained through the many press photos and TV interviews. It was like every Canadian and American was a celebrity. Many of the figure skaters wore walkmans as prescribed by their sports psychologists to relax them and make them forget as much as they could that they were in the Olympics. Carlo Fastbucci crossed the quad, to the practice rink for afternoon skating practice, flanked by his two medal hopefuls, Carin Cadippy, and Jill Tumbleweed, known for her rolling falls under pressure. The sun shone brightly on the walkway and Carlo groped in his pocket for a pair of sunglasses, an expensive Italian pair that a "skating mother" had given him after raising her voice to him during her daughter's lesson. Anxious about her daughter's prospects in an upcoming competition, she'd shouted at Carlo that he was being too easy on the girl and not driving her hard enough. She gave him the glasses as a peace offering. Shortly after, the daughter broke her fibula in 9 places and wouldn't be skating for two years. At the rink already was gold medal hopeful Debbie Tumors, who was being egged on by her coach, as he leaned over the rink barrier like an unruly hockey fan, giving Debbie last minute suggestions for improvement.
After a short press conference where Mike met the other 4 competitors from Venezuela, all skiers, 3 of whom, like him, grew up in the United States, he headed off to his room with his designated roommate, a skier from Caracas/Aspen named Nelson. Nelson came from a terminally rich family, the product of a Venezuelan oil playboy and a Philadelphia debutante. He was spoiled rotten and popular with the ladies -- numerous telegrams from Aspen girls, all wishing him luck in the downhill, were waiting for him in his room. On the way back to the room, Nelson bumped against Mike's side several times and Mike had the erie feeling that either Nelson was the clumsiest skier on the circuit or girls weren't Nelson's only interest.
At dinner, Mike tried to look for Kurt, the hot speed skater from Austria, but couldn't find him. Mike sat down with the small Venezuelan contingent and was joined by some bobsledders from Budapest. Tired from his trip, he went back to his room and opened a magazine which had a flattering picture of Kurt in it, his roguishly handsome face winking at the photographer. The media were careful not to shoot Kurt below the waist lest they get a shot of his enormous dick, outlined clearly by his unitard speed tights. Nelson, oblivious to the rumors about Kurt Hilgarth's organ and his indigo sexual orientation, busied himself with postcards to friends and then took a shower, and came out wrapped in a towel, drying his hair. "So, is it true you figure skaters like getting dick up the ass?" Nelson asked with a taunting smirk plastered on his face. Mike looked up from his magazine, meeting Nelson's eyes comfortably and said "Why, is that what you were thinking of while taking your shower?" Nelson laughed and said "I just wanted to know." There was an odd silence after the brief exchange and Mike got ready for bed. Both guys lay awake for several minutes until Nelson broke the silence by saying "I just wanted to know, that's all, no offense or anything." "You got dick up the ass on the brain or something?" Mike asked, the sound of the phrase causing both of them to break out in laughter. For the third time Nelson said "I just wanted to know, that's all."
"Do you think Katarina Wittlis would like to fuck me?" Nelson said, knowing Katarina would not be aware of an obscure Venezuelan skier like himself. Wittlis won the ladies skating gold medal in the last Olympics and was here to defend her title. Her homeland of East Germany considers her to be a national treasure. "Sure Nelson," Mike began in an exasperated, sarcastic tone, "I was eating lunch with her the other day and as she was biting into her blutwurst, she mentioned that she was fond of "spic fichen," that is spic fucking in German." "Okay okay," Nelson said, "I'll shut up and try to go to sleep, and try not to think of Katarina, in all of her aryan splendor."
Both Mike the skater and Nelson the skier slept fitfully that first night in the Olympic Village, and it wasn't over thoughts of Katarina Wittlis. Nelson found himself thinking of Mike in a way that was disturbing to him. He found Mike's open reactions to his taunts to be exciting in a way he couldn't quite understand. There was also something about Mike's blue eyes. Nelson thought of how Mike's eyes looked earlier in the day, when the sun had turned them into a liquid phosphorescent color. They were so blue and were now haunting him, floating in space disembodied. He tried to call up the image of Eva, his girlfriend back in Aspen, with her mousey brown hair, small features and milky hazel eyes but Mike's eyes and face kept creeping in his vision to torment him with physical desire. Nelson felt confused and embarrassed at his own thoughts, and was sorry for taunting Mike the way he did earlier.
Mike was still awake thinking about his short program, going over each step, jump and spin in his mind. He saw the red eye of the TV cameras following his every move, killing time before the top ten competitors came on to skate. Still, even if he weren't in the top ten, millions of people might see his performance if ABC showed it. Nelson's taunts had been an almost pleasant distraction from thinking about skating and he was pleased with how glibly he'd met Nelson's teasing about being gay, and skaters wanting dick up the ass. He thought of the smirk on Nelson's face and smiled to himself remembering how quickly his retorts left Nelson looking a little bit unglued, standing there in the middle of the room after his shower, toweling off his strong arms and wiping his mass of dark, curly hair. "What a fucking shame Nelson is straight," Mike thought before he finally fell asleep.
Morning practice went well for Mike. Brian Boichaser came right up to him and was friendly, complimenting him on his beautiful line and the height of his death drop, one of the flying spins required in the short program. Mike's death drop was not only jumped high off the ice, it looked suspended in the air till it finally dropped into the reverse sitspin. However, one move does not a short program make and Mike knew that his lack of a triple Axel would keep him out of high marks in the short program. Dick Button swept though the practice rink quickly, followed by an ABC assistant with a clipboard. Dick's sharp eye not only scanned the ice for the top skaters but he was ever vigilant for a handsome face, well shaped ass, and masculine demeanor, although how he would express these qualities to the viewing public was always a great challenge and he shuddered as he thought of his recent nightmare, all that drooling and the things he said on live national TV. Catching a flash of green out of the corner of his eye, he bowed his head and thought of adjectives he shouldn't use to describe skaters in his commentary, "divine, gorgeous, exquisite... other adjectives I'll try not to use this time..." The sight of Mike Velez bending over to adjust his skate, the lime green fabric of his skating pants stretching up the crack of perfectly formed buttocks drew Dick away from his thoughts. "What an exquisite ass," he thought to himself.
Weather on the downhill run was warm and windy. Nelson's first practice run had been 2 seconds slower than his nearest rival, a skier from Brazil, and on his second run he decided to go all out. Half way down the hill he lost his balance on a turn and fell, smacking his shoulder against a ski as it detached from his boot and got tangled in a pole. He got up, helped by a course assistant, and put his skis back on, rubbing his shoulder to make sure it wasn't dislocated, and continued down the run, something that wouldn't be allowed in the real race. As he crossed the finish line, once again in last place for the run, he started feeling depressed, and wished he'd taken his training in Aspen more seriously, instead of playing around so much. Not only that, he felt a palpable spirit of resentment from some skiers from other countries, Austria and Germany especially, who he'd met while on the competitive circuit earlier in the year. In Austria alone, there were probably 30 downhillers that could achieve a faster time than Nelson, but the rules would allow only 3 competitors from the top countries. Yet, Nelson, representing Venezuela, was in the Olympics and they were not, and never would be.
After Nelson got back to the Olympic Village and found Mike was not in the room, he headed for the dining hall and hoped to find him there, knowing Mike would understand his fears. Mike had gone out for lunch, into Calgary with a group of skaters he'd met at practice. Nelson sat at a table alone and was quickly joined by members of the Austrian and Swiss speed skating teams, led by the handsome and jockstrapless Kurt Hilgarth. Kurt sat down right next to Nelson eyeing his wide shoulders and strong arms, while glancing over his tall masculine form. In fact, Nelson was not unlike Victor Prickupaskovitch, who was the bare chested Greek god in Dick Button's nightmare. The table chatter was a momentary distraction for Nelson's feelings of frustration and he was pleased when Kurt asked him what room he was staying in, and that he might drop in the next night, if it was okay. Kurt wrote the number down on a piece of paper and folded it. They shook hands goodbye and Kurt watched Nelson get up from the table. Kurt's middle finger darted in and out of a fold of the paper he was fidgeting with in his hand, as he watched Nelson walk toward the door. At the sight of Nelson's backside, Kurt felt his lust rising and wondered if he could wait a whole night before he had a go at him. A smile crossed his lips as he thought of his past successes, as few as there were, in seducing straight guys, using the line "you've heard of the novel Moby Dick," while touching the huge mass in his pants coyly.
Bouncing into the room in good spirits Mike noticed Nelson sulking, sitting on his bed with his head down, taking swipes at the textured surface of his official Olympic bedspread. "What's the matter?" Mike asked. Nelson told him about his bad practice runs which led into an unburdening of his fear of embarrassing himself in front of his friends, family and all of Venezuela and the world. He related his fear of falling right out of the starting gate or finishing 10 seconds behind the leader. To not be in contention for a medal is one thing, but to worry about coming in last place. Nelson qualified for only the downhill event and had begun to blow the situation out of perspective. "Look," Mike began, "I'm in the same situation. I'm just going to make the best of it. You know long after everyone forgets the place standings, which is what, a week after the games, well, we have our whole lives to say WE WERE THERE." "I guess you're right," Nelson said, beginning to feel a little better, rubbing his sore shoulder as he went to the bathroom to take a hot bath. Understanding Nelson's fears well, since they were also his own, made Mike want to put his arms around him and comfort him, but he didn't, thinking Nelson might mistake it for a pass. Nelson went into the bathroom and got into the large tub, leaving the door ajar thinking he might want to say something to Mike while soaking. "Oh, I had lunch with Kurt Hilgarth." Nelson said casually and Mike sat bolt upright on his bed, forgetting his train of thought. Making an effort to sound calm and disinterested, Mike asked if Kurt had anything to say. "He's going to drop in tomorrow evening," Nelson said, adding "should I leave the room so you two can get to know each other better?" Mike froze for a second and finally said "better? I don't know him at all." "But you'd like to, right?" Nelson said teasingly. "Yes, yes, yes" Mike said in disgust as he got up and went into the bathroom to face Nelson. "If you must know, I'd like to fuck his brains out. Does that answer your question?" Mike said, glaring at his roommate's face and waiting for him to react. Not wanting to get Mike mad at him, Nelson looked down at his bath water to avoid Mike's blue eyed stare and said slowly "do you think you could massage my shoulder a little, while you're here, I hurt it in my practice run today." Mike felt like grabbing his head of curly hair and pushing it under the water but found himself obeying, politely agreeing to massage his shoulder, the mood having changed completely, because of the vulnerable tone of voice Nelson used. His left shoulder muscle showed two large bruises his shoulder had struck his ski during the fall. Mike knelt down beside the tub and put some soap on his hands and began massaging. Nelson closed his eyes and started feeling relaxed at first, then after a few minutes, stimulated. He could feel his cock getting hard and was glad he was sitting up with his back facing Mike so he could hide it from him. Mike felt Nelson's strong shoulders and neck muscles as he ran his hands over his back, and began feeling aroused himself. When he asked Nelson to shift his body to rinse his shoulders, Mike was surprised and excited to see that Nelson had a huge hardon, the large pink knob of his thick cock sticking up above the surface of the water. Mike resumed using his hands to full effect, using more gentle motions on Nelson's neck, shoulders and back. Nelson was in ecstacy already and above the steamy smell of soap he could smell the scent of Mike's skin, which smelled good and made him want more of him. He bent his head back, eyes closed and opened them looking in fascination at the growing bulge in Mike's pants. He looked up at Mike's blue eyes and turned around slowly to face him, putting his hand behind Mike's head, drawing his lips slowly toward his, thinking how strange and exciting it was to kiss a boy this way. They embraced passionately, water droplets from Nelson's arms causing dark marks on Nelson's shirt. "Why don't you take your clothes off, get in with me. It's big enough for two people" Nelson said softly. "Good idea" Mike breathed, stripping his shirt off, letting his pants fall to the floor. He stepped in the tub, straddled Nelson's hips with his legs, and eased himself down on Nelson's body with one fluid motion, wrapping his arms around him, as water splashed out of the tub. The warm water enveloped both their bodies as they continued to kiss and stroke each other. Mike worked his tongue on Nelson's nipples and felt them grow hard. It was the first time anyone had done this to Nelson and he writhed in pleasure at the feel of Mike's hot tongue, which he thought was sent straight from Hell to torture him with delight. Mike gently grasped Nelson's balls, as he let his tongue lick down from his nipples, following a hairy line right down to take his hard pink cockhead between his lips. Nelson found himself lusting for every part of a guy for the first time in his life. He wanted to be inside Mike and take him inside of himself both at once, and he continued to run his hands over Mike as he felt himself shoot a huge stream of cum up over his chest. For Mike, the pleasure of playing with a guy, driving him to this level of ecstacy, had its own reward. He was surprised when Nelson, after he came, went hungrily for his dick and began sucking like a starved baby, his own dick going hard again. Mike came into his mouth as he jerked another load out of Nelson's big member.
Nelson felt rattled as he climbed out of the tub. Mike sensed his confusion and didn't know what to say. After all, it took him 2 years to fully realize he was gay and that all happened when he was 15 years old. He moved toward Nelson and said "just take it easy Nelson. I know this is something new for you. I'm not going to make you do it again if you don't want." Nelson was tired and he climbed into his bed and fell asleep. Although Mike realized Nelson was probably bisexual, he also realized that Nelson wasn't ready for an emotional relationship with a man. He pictured Nelson in the morning, pretending nothing had happened.
For the pairs finals, Mike sat in the special seats reserved for Olympic participants. The top Russian pair of Gordeeva and Grinkov were far superior to all the other pairs but Mike was happy Jill Jetson and Peter Oppinhard were in position to win the bronze. Jill had such bad luck in the past, having taken enough dives to almost qualify for the summer Olympics. She fell in the long program, but her performance was otherwise fine, and Mike stood up and clapped his hands red at the end of their program. Dorothy Hambone was sitting a few seats away, there with her new husband/doctor. She waved to Mike and gave him one of her "Hi, I'm Dorothy Hambone" smiles. Dorothy skated in Lake Placid a few times, but Mike was only a boy then, and they didn't have much to talk about. Mike was pleased she remembered him at all after winning a gold medal and earning around 10 million dollars in the past 12 years, since winning the 1976 Olympics in Innsbruck. She made 2 million in endorsements from Clairol. Who could forget her Hambone haircut. Although the American Brian Boichaser stood to make a few million should he win the gold, it was nothing compared with the stardom that could be attained by a female ice queen.
Mike had watched pair skater Sergei Grinkov in practice and found it impossible to get near him since the security around him was as tight as his terrific ass, and he also felt unnerved by Serge's quirky good looks and celebrity status. Mike began breathing normally only after the pairs competition finally ended. Sympathizing with each pair of skaters as they took to the ice was getting exhausting. He thought of how glad he was not to be in pairs. "How awkward it is to blow it and have your partner depending on you. Just being chained to a partner for your skating career could be difficult, especially at the top, where you are not recognized as an individual but always linked to your partner, even romantically, whether there is any romance or not. Poor Randy Garden, forever linked to Tai Babbalogna... her tits and hips getting bigger every year and you gotta just keep lifting..." Mike daydreamed.
When Mike got back to his room it was 11 p.m. and as he entered, there was Kurt "underwearless" Hilgarth sitting right on his bed. He'd forgotten that Kurt was coming over to visit Nelson. Kurt was explaining something about the mountains of Innsbruck as Mike entered the room, and then he forgot what he was saying. Mike reflexively bent over to pick up a pair of dirty underwear he'd left on the floor and Kurt swallowed hard as he saw Mike's ass. Mike straightened and held his dirty underwear out and said "you don't wear these do you." The brazen Kurt Hilgarth had met his match in Mike Velez and Kurt blushed, as he mumbled something about not finding underwear comfortable, adding defensively that there was no law that said skaters had to wear certain clothes under their suits.
Nelson make a polite excuse to leave them alone, saying he had to visit another skier and that he'd be back in an hour. He'd promised to help a fellow Venezuelan with his skibase preparation, and didn't think Kurt would come so late. "I'm sure you two will have lots to talk about, being both skaters and all" Nelson said as he ducked out the door. "Nice guy" Kurt said, nodding toward the departing Nelson. "Yes, he's great" Mike said, "but let's talk about you Kurt." Kurt didn't say anything and instead they locked stares and Mike advanced toward him like a cheetah stalking its prey. There were only so many opportunities for athletes to have privacy during the games and Mike wasn't going to let this chance pass him by. Pushing Kurt back on the bed, Mike put his knee on top of Kurt's chest and grabbed the front of his shirt at the neck. "Listen you sexy bastard, take your clothes off before I rip them off" Mike said to a genuinely startled Kurt. Kurt was used to making the moves and at first was hesitant, which quickly have way to submission, as he obeyed, swiftly removing his clothes and throwing them to the side of the bed. The legendary mass was growing after being released from its confinement. Mike was transfixed by its size and its ugly beauty. Kurt was horny as hell and he unbuttoned Mike's pants and pulled them off, grabbing for his dick like it was the finish line.
Even if there hadn't been a health crisis, there was no way Mike was going to let a guy with a dick like Kurt's fuck him, with or without a condom. It was simply too big. Kurt grabbed his cock and waved it back and forth like a bat. "It is big, no?" he smiled the same roguish grin as in the magazine photo. "Yeah, it sure is Kurt baby, but I can't get fucked with that, it'd kill me, I wouldn't be able to walk, let alone skate, for weeks. "Kurt laughed and grabbed Mike's head in his hands playfully and kissed his open mouth. Kurt's tongue could reach almost as far as his dick and their kissing got so intense, Mike really wanted to feel himself inside of Kurt and he raised Kurt's muscular legs, knees straining toward his shoulders and felt for his ass hole. Still wet from Kurt's saliva, Mike eased his 7 inches up Kurt as Kurt groaned. He grabbed Kurt's hard bat and stroked it steadily. Kurt wanted it even harder. "Achhh, fuck me harder" he called out as Mike began banging Kurt's hot ass as hard as he could. Mike was glistening with sweat as he drove himself into the hunky speed skater's ass with all his might. Finally, he came and a few seconds later gobs of cum oozed out of Kurt's fat dick head in a pulsating stream. Not only was he hung like a horse but he came like one too.
"I'd better go, before Nelson returns" Kurt said, pulling his jeans on and hurrying out the door. "See you" he said as he winked and ran out. In the hallway, he did a jump, as if over barrels and through a hoop of flame, and then skipped his way past security people.
A few minutes later Nelson came in as Mike was getting ready to step in the shower, which he delayed for a few minutes. Mike liked the smell of Kurt on him, shit and all. By the time Mike finished his shower, Nelson was already in bed, covers pulled up to his chin. "So, did Kurt fuck you?" he asked. "No, in fact, he didn't, if you must know, I fucked him." A streak of jealousy pierced Nelson's being, the same kind he felt with his girlfriends when they showed interest in other men. But, he controlled his feelings this time, since they were for a guy and logic told him he didn't want to get involved with Mike anyway. Kurt's short strong body did not have the same effect on Nelson as it did most people, and he couldn't understand why Mike was excited over him. He was too loud and cocky for one thing, Nelson thought.
Although sex was exciting, Mike had his compulsory figure competition the next day, and nothing was more important. It was as if sex made a good diversion from the constant pressure of thinking about the Olympics, the years of training leading to these few days.
For Kurt Hilgarth, Mike had been more than a diversion. Nineteen years old and still living at home in Innsbruck, Kurt had very few sexual experiences. He met no one of interest at the University, and there were only a few surreptitious couplings, Kurt playing the topman, with guys like Henk, a married Dutch speed skater he saw only during competitions. Kurt found Henk attractive but felt guilty about fucking him, knowing he was married. Henk was kind but made it clear that it was more a compulsion with him, to have men once and while, or be HAD by a man once and a while, and that it wasn't going to interfere with his marriage.
Part 2
Kurt went back to his room and couldn't sleep for 2 hours thinking of Mike's smell and the feel of his dick inside him, which left a pleasant soreness as a reminder. He drew out his huge cock and jerked off thinking of Mike inside him. In the morning he wrote a short note, self conscious of his English, but knowing he had to write something.
Dear Mike, Last night was fantastic. I think of you often. I can't sleep for wanting you and hope you feel something for me and like me a little at least. Sincerely, Kurt
When Mike read the note, just before he went to breakfast, it made him glow inside and the colors around him seemed more intense. Suddenly being in the Olympics was something to be savored and no matter how he did in the competition, he'd have the pleasant memory of Kurt. He thought he'd better keep his head and concentrate on the figure competition, but without missing out on the excitement of just being there. People who'd drawn numbers before him were completing their first figure and Mike laced his skates carefully, thinking of every element of the backchange loop he had to skate as his first figure. When he got on the ice, he looked at the sparse audience, some of whom were spectators who couldn't get tickets to the free skating, and had to settle for watching people trace figure eights. Mike would have felt a little sympathy for them ordinarily, but his mind was on the back change loop figure only.
Mike thought of Kurt for a second, and took a deep breath before stepping on the ice. He didn't have anything to lose really, he was "just one of the skaters people don't notice," he kept telling himself. The first figure was skated and he knew it was good by the look on his coaches face. It was ranked 7th out of the 22 skaters and coach Pudesco was beaming as if Mike had already won a gold medal. The next two figures were more characteristic and pulled his overall score back to 12th place, but he couldn't help feeling overjoyed that there were 10 skaters behind him. His forte was free skating and the short program was the next day, and if skated well, would surely position him in the top ten. Walking down a dank hallway toward the locker room, Mike felt a hand touch his shoulder and looked over to find Kurt at his side. Kurt put both his arms in a bear hug around Mike and lifted him up off his feet saying "way to go!" "Put me down you animal," Mike said laughing. Arms around each other's shoulders, they headed down the hall together.
At lunch in the dining hall, they found a corner table with some Russian cross-country skiers who didn't speak any English or care about meeting them.
"I got your note" Mike began slowly, as he watched a look of anxious anticipation come over Kurt's face, "and want to thank you" he continued, as he put his hand under the table and pet Kurt's inner thigh causing Kurt to smile at first but then frown as he realized he was getting a voluminous erection. Kurt grabbed the hand and said "stop that, or I'm going to make the table go up, you know with my dick." Mike laughed and thought of the table rising toward the ceiling. In the raucous clatter of the dining hall, they talked about their families and childhoods. Mike was surprised that Kurt had grown up as an only child, and not surrounded by friends, but still alone, like he'd been in Lake Placid.
Back in Kurt's room, Mike sat on his lap and they kissed affectionately as he eyed a clock on the table for a moment. Mike had practice in a short while and Kurt had his first race that evening, the first of three. Both wanting to conserve energy, they stopped feeling each other's bodies and just looked into one another's eyes, satiating an emotional thirst they'd both suffered from. Mike broke the silence with, "what's it like having such a huge cock?, as he placed his hand on Kurt's growing crotch. "Ha, I don't know, it has always been with me... what's it like having such blue eyes?" Kurt countered, touching Mike's cheek bone and mimicking the same tone of voice Mike used in his question. Mike noticed his eyes in the mirror and although he liked their blue color, he saw nothing special in them. However, other people, even passers by, often found them startlingly blue and some even thought he had a special power to see things, like a seer might.
"For speed skating, my dick is no good," Kurt began, wrinkling his brow and reflecting on it for a moment as if it were a serious philosophical question, "it is like a suitcase I have to carry between my legs and it not helps me to skate. I think all the best speed skaters carry small baggage," he added. Kurt had often felt insecure about himself because some men would look at his crotch before they would look at his face. On the street, he wore pants that were baggy so people would not stare. For speed skating, he found all forms of athletic support to create a cramping feeling and early on he discovered the only solution was to wear nothing at all under his tights, although even that was not completely comfortable. So it showed more -- he knew he was envied and it's no different than a girl with big tits -- sometimes there's not much you can do to hide.
Kurt's first race, the 500 meter, was not his best event and he finished in 7th place which was 2 places higher than he expected since the American seated above him fell, having had to cope with news of his sister's death earlier in the day. Dan Jensen's family tragedy helped Kurt's place standing. Kurt's best event was yet to come and he knew he had a remote chance at a medal, he just didn't want to think about it too much, there were many factors. He wanted Mike to be there and since it was 3 hours before he had to skate his short program in figure skating, Mike agreed to come.
"Kurt looks so hot in his green skating tights" Mike thought as he watched Kurt nervously waiting for his race to begin. He was one of the last to skate and but when the gun sounded, he exploded off the starting line, a little out of control at first. Mike felt as though he were inside Kurt again, as much as he did the night before, only this time he was skating for him. When he crossed the finish line his time flashed on the board and he'd won the bronze medal. Kurt was ecstatic and enthusiastically extending his hand to skaters who wanted to shake it. The Austrian coach was in tears since it had been several years since Austria had won any medals in speed skating. Too far away from Kurt to get down near him quickly, Mike was stuck up in the stands while the last few skaters finished the race. At the medal ceremony, the silver medal winning East German looked sad in contrast to the smiling Kurt, who looked like he'd just won five gold medals instead of a bronze. The medal ceremony wasn't shown on American TV, since an American didn't win a medal, and it took some fancy camera work for Kirk's dick not to dominate the screen.
Kurt was looking for Mike in the audience and finally their eyes met, Mike biting his lip with excitement and joy for Kurt, and partly in anxiety -- his short program was only a few hours away. Many European newscasters and journalists were very much interested in interviewing Kurt, and Mike had to fight his way through the throng to shake his hand. A German reporter asked Kurt a question and Mike slipped away to head for dinner, so he would have energy to skate the evening's short program. He met Nelson in the dining hall and told him about Kurt's bronze medal. Halfway through his meal of turkey tetrazini on toast points, Kurt came swaggering in, accompanied by a few Austrian and German speed skaters who were basking in his limelight, hoping some good fortune would rub off on them. Winning the bronze medal puts an athlete in the statistics books but it doesn't mean any riches in product endorsements. Many skaters wouldn't be happy with anything less than gold. "Where did you go?" Kurt asked Mike when he finally located him. Mike explained that he didn't think Kurt would get away for hours with all the fans mobbing him. Kurt grabbed Mike's arm and lead him into the bathroom, where he turned and put his arms around his neck, kissing him without regard for anyone lurking in a toilet stall. "I love you Mike" he said without hesitation. "Oh come on Kirk, Mike said holding himself back for a moment, wanting to believe he meant it, "that's just the bronze medal in you talking" "no, No, no, nein, it isn't, Kurt said convincingly, "I love you and I want to have your baby" he said as he grabbed Mike's crotch. They both howled as the sound of their laughter ricocheted off the tile walls. They returned to the table happy, looking like they'd both won the Olympics.
In contrast to the simplicity and excitement of the race for gold in the speed skating oval, the atmosphere in the Saddledome was thick with tension for the men's short program. Brian Orifiz hadn't kept skating for 4 years, since his second place finish in the last Olympics, only come in second again. He kept pacing back and forth, walkman playing his therapeutic distraction music. Boichaser had the lead after figures and everyone who had seen his sensational short program in the U.S. Nationals knew he could conceivably do it again and cause the final long program to be a heated face-off. The focus was heavily on the two Brians and Mike and other skaters felt relief that they didn't have the extra pressure of publicity and expectations.
Mike was the 4th skater of the evening, as he skated to the center of the ice, feeling unreal at the wave of applause that greeted him, mostly from Americans who considered him one of theirs even though he represented Venezuela, knowing that he grew up in the U.S. The sound of Ravel's Daphnis and Chloe Suite No.
2 filled the arena as Mike closed his eyes and concentrated on the sequence leading to his first jump combination. His turns felt smooth on the newly cleaned pristine ice that had not been chewed up by skaters before him. His triple jump combination made the audience gasp as he threw the second jump way into the air and seemed to hang in space for a few seconds before landing. However, a triple Loop is only of moderate difficulty in the array of skating tricks and unless he jumped ten feet off the ice, it would never compare with the triple Axels of the top skaters. While entering one of his camel spins, the audience held its breath as he stumbled by catching a toe rake in the ice, but recovered sufficiently to execute the spin well. A high death drop and it was over. Waiting for his marks, he stood in front of a TV camera and as the first set came up, all hovering in the 5.0 range for technical merit, the audience booed. When the artistic impression scores flashed on the board, the audience's reaction quickly changed as he received all 5.7s for artistic impression, except for the American judge who gave him a 5.6. Mike felt like jumping up and down when the high artistic scores were displayed but instead tried to smile in an acceptable way for the millions who might be watching on television, if it were being shown live. As he was leaving the arena on his way to the dressing room, Coach Pudesco's arm around his shoulder, Mike could hear Dick Button's voice mumbling in the background as another skater was ready to begin his program. JoJo Starcluck, pair skater from back in the early 70's, stop to congratulate him on his way down the hall, and told him perkily, "and you made live ABC coverage Mike!"
An hour later, in the final group, Boichaser and Orifiz came out and skated spectacular routines to remain neck and neck going into the long program the following evening. Mike was 8th in the short program which brought him up to 10th place overall.
"I wish it was over," Mike told Kurt when they reached his room after the competition, "I'd be happy to finish in 10th place overall" he thought as he sighed and thought how glad he was not to be one of the Brians. "When are we going to have a chance to sleep together?" Mike asked Kurt in a plaintive tone not expecting an answer. He knew that it would all be over for both of them tomorrow night and they could start enjoying the Olympics and each other.
Mike walked Kurt out the door just as Nelson was coming in to go to bed.
Nelson's regular breathing during sleep soothed Mike as he listened to it, still wide awake at 2 a.m. He couldn't get the idea of doing a quadruple jump out of his mind. No skater had ever landed one cleanly in competition, although Boichaser had tried in the past, and he was known for doing them easily in practice. Only one skater in the competition was attempting one, a Canadian boy who was not in the running for a medal therefore had nothing to risk. In practice a few weeks before, Mike had landed his first and only quadruple, a quadruple toe-loop, and he thought of the furor that it would cause, if he, a nobody in 10th place, landed one in the Olympic finals. After deciding to talk it over with coach Pudesco in the morning, Mike finally turned over and went to sleep.
"Sure, if you want to try it, go ahead, why not, but only if you feel you can do it" Pudesco said, scratching his head in delighted amazement that his black sheep Venezuelan might rise to the occasion and go down in skating history. Pudesco knew better than to try to hold a bucking stallion by the reins and so far, Mike had already done better than his highest expectations. Mike did not try the quad in practice that afternoon saying that it might make him change his mind, and after all, he didn't want to injure himself trying something new in practice. He hurried off to watch Kurt's final race. Kurt placed 12th in his last race, but was happy. His times were good, and he had a bronze medal.
Only a small proportion of Olympic competitors go home with any medal.
"Well Liebchen," Kurt said to Mike before going to his seat in the athlete's section of the arena, "I love you baby, and I'll wait for you by this door over here" Kurt said pointing to an exit door. Mike was on his own now, this long program would be his last hurdle. There were 2 groups of six skaters that went before him and he wanted to watch a few of the first skaters, just to get a feel of the full arena. Kurt brushed past Dorothy Hambone on his way to his seat and she leaned over and said in a low voice "Is it as big as they say?" Kurt looked at her and whispered "you will never know" as she broke out in good natured laughter as he continued to his seat.
Backstage, the minutes dragged by for Mike as he started to think about his mother, and how he wished she were alive to be there to see him skate. Being gay, or being straight -- it wouldn't have mattered to her. She would have loved him as he is no matter what his sexual preference. Since green was her favorite color and she said it always looked good against his creamy brown skin, Mike wore green in all competitions. He thought about his costume, and smiled as he thought of Kurt in his green speedskating tights, which of course, was the Austrian uniform in speedskating for the Olympics.
The long program competition in progress, Mike went into the locker room and started getting prepared in a ritualistic manner. First taking his clothes off, he put on his special supportive underwear, green in color, so they wouldn't show through his green pants. The dark green silk shirt fit his body loosely, although it was held in by high waisted pants which showed off his long legs and beautiful ass. He fastened the straps of his pants underneath his skates and headed out for the warm up, which was to begin in fifteen minutes. The skaters ranked from 6th place to 10th, on the basis of the combined score from figures and short program, were ready to take to the ice for their warm up. Mike had drawn numbers and he was second to skate, right after George Canby, the Canadian skater who would be attempting a quadruple toe-loop jump. Coach Pudesco arranged to tell Mike whether Canby had completed the jump successfully by giving him a hand signal as Mike came out to enter the ice. If Canby had made it, Mike didn't want to risk it. But if Canby blew it...
George Canby did not complete the rotations of his quadruple toe loop and the rest of his program, which included a bad fall, threatened to lower him from 6th place. Also in the next to the last group with Mike were two Americans, Paul Whileaway and Christopher Blowman, both excellent skaters, but it was Mike's turn now. An exchanged glance with Coach Pudesco, his palm turned toward the ice showed Mike that Mark had not completed his quad toe-loop. The audience roared as Mike skated to the center of the ice, waiting for his music to start. Kurt swallowed hard as Mike's name was being announced over the loud speaker, as Dorothy Hambone looked over at him and smiled, feeling delighted that she knew a secret, that Kurt was there to watch Mike. It was written in every tense line of Kurt's face. A trumpet fanfare heralded the wide serpentine sequence of turns which led to Mike's first jump sequence, a triple-toe loop followed immediately by another triple toe-loop.
Dick Button had watched Mike do his triple toe-loop, triple toe- loop combination in practice and was announcing it to the audience, "you know Jim, this Venezuelan boy has a lot of style, but his technique is just not up to par with the top skaters... he will be opening with the same jump combination Debbie Tumors opens with in her long program and let's see how he does it." "Just imagine what Venezuela thinks of this young man, how proud they must be Dick" Jim said, reading from his script of mindless chatter.
Mike felt an enormous tension building in his legs as he made the turn from forward to backward in his approach curve for his first triple toe loop. The curve felt just right, fast, and he decided right there that if the landing on his first triple was okay, he'd throw himself into a quadruple with all his strength. Toe pick pole vaulting him neatly into the air for his first triple, Dick Button murmured "nice" into the microphone and then with a burst of energy, in attempt to get all the height necessary to complete all 4 rotations of the quadruple toe-loop, Mike threw himself high into the air, pulling in his arms swiftly, and landed on one foot after completing all four rotations, the first person to do so in any competition. As he landed he knew he'd done it because the sound of his music had been replaced by a deafening roar coming from the audience. Like a tidal wave, he rode the sound into his next sequence which was a comparatively pedestrian double Axel followed by a flying camel spin. Dick Button stammered and stuttered for a few seconds until he realized fully what he'd just seen. "I don't believe it" he said to the live viewers at home, "this boy has just done something no one has ever accomplished, a quadruple toe-loop, and I didn't even know it was in his program!" "Not only did he do a quadruple toe-loop, he did it in the exquisitely difficult combination out of a triple toe loop... It was simply divine and totally unheard of, I mean never seen before... just gorgeous..." Dick continued, violating his self imposed taboo on using words like "divine" and "exquisite" in his commentary. Jim Macaw chimed in with an idiotic "but what does this mean Dick, does he have a chance for a medal?" As Dick was explaining that no, even perfect marks could not pull a person from 10th place into 3rd, unless the top skater did "very poorly, very poorly" Dick repeated as Jim said "very poorly" like a parrot in training.
Finally, after a minute into his program the din began to settle down and Mike found his place with the music. Several fans were still on their feet and Dorothy Hambone was clapping her hands and saying over and over to her husband, "I don't believe it, I just don't believe it!" Kurt felt a surge of excitement, brought on largely by the audience who was making more noise than anything he'd ever expected at a figure skating event, and realized that Mike had done something extraordinary in his opening jump. People around him were saying the word "quadruple" and Kurt realized that Mike must have done the first one ever.
Going into a triple flip jump, Mike became twisted in the air and fell off his landing edge, skidding on his ass toward the barrier. The audience "ooohed" in sympathy but he got up in one smooth motion, and after just making history in his triple- quadruple combination, he almost didn't notice he fell. Another slip caused him to double out of a triple Salchow and a minute later he did the same with a triple Loop. "This will effect his score" Dick said, still very excited about the quadruple, "but who cares about scores when you are headed for the history books." "I'll say" Jim chimed in, picking up on Dick's uncontained excitement. Mike ended his program with a well- centered scratch spin and the audience was on its feet. Taking several bows to the tremendous ovation, there was a delay before the next competitor could get on the ice, Christopher Blowman. Before leaving the ice, while taking his bows to a tremendous ovation, Mike held both his arms in the air and looked up to where Kurt was sitting and said to himself out loud, "I did it, I did it."
Mike's scores were high enough to pull him into 5th place. After Brian Boichaser accepted his gold medal, he skated to the side of the ice where Mike was standing, and raised Mike's arm for everyone to see. Boichaser was quite a sportsman to relinquish part of his moment of deserved glory to an unknown Venezuelan competitor. In the news for the next few days, film clips of the 2 Brians would be followed by 10 seconds of Mike Velez performing the first quadruple jump in competition. "Mike Velez, the dual national Venezuelan who came out of nowhere to capture the spirit of these Olympic games" the announcer said, happy to have a sunny story to report.
Mike had to push through the crowd to get to the door where he knew Kurt was waiting. Finally he got up to him, through many people. "Look, I'll meet you back in my room, in an hour or so, when this is all over." Most of the reporters were gathered around Brian Boichaser but the people from the foreign press, as well as members of the skating world who couldn't get close to Boichaser, came up to get a look at Mike, and to congratulate him. It seemed like a dream and Mike, all of a sudden, wanted to be alone for a few minutes.
He thought of his mother and what this would have meant to her.
Students back at Potsdam were planning a Michael Velez day while Mike's father was receiving calls from people he didn't know, asking for interviews. He hadn't even been watching the TV, as Mike suspected, but under the circumstances, realizing that his faggot son was a hero, he rose to the occasion and pretended that he had been following Mike's skating enthusiastically all along. Several people watching at the bar in Lake Placid, were surprised to hear that Joe Velez even had a son, let alone that he was now an Olympic record holder.
Nelson fell during his first downhill run and was almost happy he didn't have to finish with a time that was much slower than other competitors. He was anxious to get back to Aspen where his father had promised him he'd buy him a new sports car, no matter how he finished.
Spot lights glare on an empty patch of ice as Kurt emerges in a pair of white tights, a pack of white poodles scampering along at his heels. He circles the 10 barrels that are placed in the center of the ice as the music builds dramatically. The poodles try to keep up with him but keep slipping. They take short cuts through the center, much to the audience's amusement. Then as Kurt takes his leap over the barrels, the poodles jump on top of them and hop from barrel to barrel to meet their trainer who is waiting to make his entrance behind the curtain. Trainer and dogs come out and the dogs perform a precision routine where they jump through hoops and over each other, and through the hollow barrels. A large hoop is set a flame and hung over the barrels as Kurt skates out again, lights lowered this time, spotlights causing the sequins on his black costume to glitter. A drum roll begins and Kurt jumps over the barrels and through the hoop, his three minutes of skating completed for the night, done for the salary of $35,000 a year.
Festive island music fills the arena as forty skaters come on in feathered South Seas-via-Hollywood costumes, shaking and dancing across the ice to the rhythm of jungle drums. A pirate appears and scares away the merry-making islanders, but soon he's challenged by Errol Flynn in the form of Mike Velez.
After an extended sword fighting sequence, both men skating and skidding around the ice, Mike runs his opponent through at a climactic moment and skates a dynamic victor's solo as the islanders gyrate joyously in the background. The number has been carefully planned to bring the audience to a fever pitch for Mike's arrival, and when he skates, the audience swoons. Mike finishes his number to thunderous applause and heads for his dressing room to change into another costume for his final number of the evening.
The South American tour of Holiday on Ice netted twice as much money compared with the previous year, all because of Mike Velez. He took his already excellent style and turned it into something blatantly sexual. His acting ability to play macho roles to the hilt, rare in most male skaters, exuded a sexuality that drove audiences wild.
"We've got to talk about this" Mike turned to Kurt, who was peeling off his eyeliner, his part in the show finished for the evening. Kurt's contract for a solo act was not renewed for the following year since he refused to go to one of the European divisions and perform his barrel jumping act there, without Mike. The show offered Mike a raise of a hundred thousand dollars, making his yearly salary three hundred thousand, if he'd stay on for a second year and repeat the South American tour, where he was most popular. Mike didn't want to see Kurt return to Innsbruck, and he knew Kurt was getting a tired of barrel jumping. He wanted to find the words to tell Kurt that he wanted him to stay with him on the tour. "It's all because of you Kurt, that I had the guts to try a quad in the first place," Mike said. "You know," he continued, "if I hadn't done that one jump, I probably wouldn't have been noticed by anyone and if I'd gotten in a show at all, I would have been at the bottom of the barrel, making what Gina makes, twenty-two a year." Kurt sat listening, nodding his head, hoping to hear what he wanted to hear. Mike said in a matter of fact tone, "even for the three hundred thousand Kirk baby, I can't do it without you here." Kurt let his breath out in relief. "Okay then, I'll stay," he said.
During their second year in South America with Holiday on Ice, Mike was still a popular figure with the crowds that came to see the show, and many came specifically to see Mike Velez, one of their own, in the show. Kurt was happy, using his free time to read about the culture of the various South American cities through which they travelled. Even the dogs, now poodling their way around in a European tour, were happy, because they never liked sharing their act with Kurt in the first place. Mike and Kurt left the show a year later and bought a house together in Santa Fe, New Mexico, where they started a bicycle business.
THE END