Swamp Rat Chapter 11

This is a fictional story dealing with love and consensual sexual activities between males.  If you are not of legal age, reside in an area where viewing such material is illegal, or are offended by homosexuality and/or homosexual themes, leave this site now. 

The author retains all rights to this story.  No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the permission of the author.

Note: Thanks to Tim and Rock for feedback on the draft chapters.  I owe a special thanks to Robb for doing the final proofreading and catching all those silly little errors I missed.

Send comments to: jeff_allen15@hotmail.com

SWAMP RAT
by Jeff Allen

CHAPTER 11

After our session in bed, we rested for a while. I was snuggled up under Art's arm enjoying the contact when my stomach growled.

"Sorry."

Art pulled away and sat up. "It sounds like I need to feed you. Haul that fine ass of yours out of bed, and let's go see what I have in the kitchen. I wasn't planning on eating here tonight."

He rummaged around in the dresser and pulled out a pair of his sport shorts and a tee shirt which he tossed to me. I pulled them on while he found another pair of shorts and a tee shirt for himself.

We ended up with tuna sandwiches, chips, and beer for dinner.

"You know you can't tell anyone about this, right?"

"Yeah, I think sleeping with a student is against school rules."

"Oh, it is...big time. I could lose my job."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to say anything. There's only three people that know I'm gay: Daddy, Scott, and Derek."

"Derek? Is he...?"

"No, unfortunately, he's straight."

"You've got a crush on him, don't you."

"I think it's more than a crush. I'm in love with someone I can never have."

Art smiled, "So, that makes me second choice."

I punched his arm. "I like you a lot, Art. You're a great teacher. You've taught me a lot about home repairs and construction. You're a lot of fun to be with, and I love you for all those things, but I'm not in love with you like I'm in love with Derek."

"Are you in love with me enough to go back to bed with me?"

"Definitely."

"Then what are we waiting for. It's New Year's Eve, and it's time to party!"

We met in the middle of his big bed. Our love making was slower, more relaxed this time. We finished in a sixty-nine, and I got to taste his cum just before I exploded my own load down his throat.

After a little rest, we started over. There was a lot of kissing and caressing; we eventually moved into a sixty-nine position again, but this time his mouth moved past my hard prick and down to my asshole. I returned the favor. Art added one of his fingers to the mix. I was turned on like never before.

Art moved. I started to protest the loss of his tasty, furry butt. My protests died as he bent my legs back and renewed his efforts with his tongue and finger on my pucker.

"I want you."

"Art, I've never done that, so be careful."

"Do you want it?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll go slowly."

And he did. He worked another finger into my hole. When I was easily accepting both fingers, he reached into the night stand beside the bed and retrieved his bottle of lube and a condom. He continued to loosen up my sphincter with his fingers and the lube while he sucked on my hard dick. The only reason I didn't climax right then from the sucking was because I'd already come twice that night.

When he figured I was ready, he suited up his weapon and slowly began sinking it into my body. I tried to relax, but it burned. He moved a little into me and stopped. The pain started to go away as I got used to his girth. He moved further into me then stopped again as I moaned.

Finally he was seated all the way. He leaned forward and covered my mouth with kisses as I got used to having all of him inside my ass. The pain and discomfort gave way to a full feeling. As I began to relax, he began slow movements. I liked it. His movements became more rapid, and he moved further in and out of me with each stroke. The head of his dick passed over my prostate, and I cried out.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, you just found the spot."

He grinned mischievously. "You mean here?"

He moved over my prostate again, and I thought I was going to see stars.

He settled into a steady rhythm that put the head of his dick over my sweet spot on every third or fourth stroke. Hector had always come while I was fucking him. Having Art's dick stimulating my prostate was nice, but I didn't think it would make me come.

It didn't. Art climaxed with a series of hard thrusts and then shuddered. I could feel his dick pulsing inside my rectum.

He pulled out, removed the full condom, and then began sucking on my dick. That made me cum in short order.

We talked for a while, and then around midnight we started another round of lovemaking. That time, after lots of foreplay, Art rolled a condom down over my cock and then proceeded to sit on my pole. He rode me until both of us blew another load.

It was quite a New Year's Eve!

It warmed up over night. The ice was completely melted when we woke up.

We washed each other in the shower. It was a long shower.

After breakfast we decided to go back out to work. By the end of the day, the electric wiring was done.

Back at his house, we shared another shower, and then I topped Art before heading home.

The next day, we were back in school. It was a little awkward between Art and me that week, but by Friday we'd settled into a slightly modified teacher/student interaction at school.

When I went over to his house the next Saturday morning, however, we made love before we headed out to the work site, and made love again back at his house at the end of the day.

Art had warned me that putting in the fiberglass insulation would be the worst of all the jobs we had to do. He was right. We wore goggles, masks, and gloves, but the pink fiberglass material managed to get everywhere. And I mean `everywhere.' By the end of a day working with that crap, it even felt like there were itchy bits of glass fibers in my underwear. Art suggested that I go commando like him. He said going commando allowed your cock and balls to sweat off the little glass fibers. I tried it, but I was still almost unbearably itchy by the end of the day.

I could hardly wait to finish the day so I could get a shower. Fortunately, Art had experience working with the darn stuff, and he had found a lotion that helped ease the itch. It was a lot of fun applying that lotion to each other after our showers!

Fortunately, we were done with the insulation by the end of January. I liked spreading the anti-itchy lotion on Art at the end of the day, and I liked having him spread it all over my body, but I was glad when we were able to begin putting up the drywall.

Also during January, Derek and I got several letters from different colleges and universities trying to entice us to come to their school and play football for them.

The first Friday night in February, I stayed overnight with Derek at his grandfather's house. As planned, we brought all our recruitment letters. Derek insisted that he was only interested in places that were trying to recruit both of us. There were five of those. We talked with Grandpa Jackson (as he'd told me to call him) about the different schools and ended up eliminating one of the schools from consideration because, while the school's reputation for athletics was outstanding, its academic reputation wasn't so hot. That left us with four schools to look at: Florida State, Georgia Southern, University of Georgia, and Adams State University in North Carolina. Using Derek's laptop and Grandpa Jackson's printer, we each wrote to those schools telling them that we'd like to arrange a campus visit.

By the end of February, we had our visitation schedule worked out. Fenokachee County High School let seniors get an excused absence for visiting a college campus. Florida State and Georgia Southern were both about a hundred miles away from Indian Crossing. Those were easy one day trips. University of Georgia and Adams State were farther away. We scheduled a single three-day road trip over our week-long Easter Break to visit them.

Two days before our first campus visit, I stopped by Grandpa Jackson's house on the way home from basketball practice.

He opened the door.

"Hi, Brett. Derek's not here. I think he said he was going over to his girlfriend's house for dinner."

"I knew Derek wasn't going to be here. I came by to talk with you about something."

"Oh, that both surprises and flatters me. Come on in. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Some water would be fine, sir."

I sat at the kitchen table while he got us both glasses of water.

"Now, what's this about?"

"Well, we're going to start visiting colleges, and I want you to understand something about me before we go."

"Okay."

"I'm gay."

He looked at me with a strange expression on his face for a few seconds before saying, "Did you think that would bother me"

"No, sir, in fact, I was pretty sure it wouldn't bother you. I'm telling you this, so you won't be surprised if I say something on the campus trips. You see, I want to try to find out how those four programs view gay athletes. Once I get to college, I'm not going to put on a rainbow tee shirt and start announcing to the world that I'm gay, but at the same time, I don't want to hide who I am either."

"What are you going to do if homophobia is running rampant at all four places?"

"Then I probably won't be playing football. Derek wants us to play on the same team in college, but I don't want to do that if it means I've got to keep pretending to be something I'm not."

"What will you do then?"

"I've got a good chance at academic scholarships. I might still be able to go to the same school as Derek. I just wouldn't be on the football team."

"So why are you telling me this?"

"Because I don't want you to be surprised if I ask about how the schools treat their gay athletes."

"I appreciate your trust in me, Brett. Have you told your father?"

"Yes. Both he and Scott know that I'm gay. Derek knows, too."

"I see. Is Derek...?" his voice trailed off.

"Don't worry, Derek is straight. He's my best friend, and I love him."

"I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"I know you didn't. I can't imagine that any parent or grandparent would want one of their children to be gay. Heck, lots of the time I wish I wasn't gay. I'm just glad that my daddy accepts me as I am."

Grandpa Jackson stood up and pulled me into an embrace.

"You're a strong person, Brett...and an honorable person. You remind me of your father when he was your age."

Two days later we headed south to Tallahassee. We went in Grandpa Jackson's big beige Cadillac. Grandpa Jackson and Daddy went with us, but they sat in the back seat. Derek and I took turns behind the wheel. Man, what a ride!

We met with a couple of the coaches who gave us a sales pitch that would have made a used car salesman proud. We had to keep telling them that we were going to visit other schools before we made up our minds. Later, one of the trainers and one of the players took Derek and me on a tour of the athletic facilities, and they filled us in on all the perks that were available to athletes, especially those on the football team. After the tour, we met back up with Daddy and Grandpa Jackson. They had gotten their own tour of the campus and another sales pitch about what a great place FSU was. After meeting briefly with the coaches again, we shook hands, and headed back to Indian Crossing.

The next week, we took our road trip to Georgia Southern, with Daddy and Grandpa Jackson again riding in the back seat of the big Cadillac. The visit to Georgia Southern was almost the same thing as the one to Florida State. We got the high pressure sales talk from the coaches; then Derek and I got the tour of the training facilities that were only available to athletes and the low down on how great it was to be at Georgia Southern from a couple of the players.

At both schools I'd broached the subject of gays on athletic teams when Derek and I were touring the athletic facilities. I phrased the question something like, "What do you do about gay guys on the team?"

That's me, the master of subtlety.

At both places, the response had been a quick denial that there were even any gay guys on the team. The denials were followed by reassurances that, since they didn't have gays on the team, I wouldn't have to deal with any of those kind of people.

It looked like I wouldn't be playing ball for either Florida State or Georgia Southern.

Like I said, we planned a three day road trip to visit UGA and Adams State at the first part of our Easter Break. Easter was on the Second of April that year, and Fenokachee County always takes its break the week before Easter, so it was still March when we headed north to Athens, Georgia, and Adams, North Carolina. The weather reports indicated that there was still snow on the ground up in the mountains of North Carolina.

The trip up to Athens was uneventful, but long. There's just no good way to get from Indian Crossing to Athens, except on two-lane roads. Because we were going to be gone for three days, Scott came along with us, riding in the back seat between Daddy and Derek's grandfather.

Our campus visit to UGA was almost a carbon copy of the ones to Florida State and Georgia Southern. I wondered if athletic programs got together and developed a standard campus visit schedule. We had the high pressure sales pitch from one of the assistant coaches. Then Daddy, Grandpa Jackson, and Scott wondered around campus while one of the football players took Derek and me around to look at the training and practice facilities.

The guy that was taking us on the tour played defensive tackle, and he looked big enough that he could take care of any running back trying to get past the line of scrimmage.

He had just taken us through the team's locker room when I asked my question.

"What do you do about gay guys on the team?"

Derek rolled his eyes.

Our tour guide's response was immediate. "We don't have any of those damn faggots on the team. We don't want `em in the locker room. Far as I'm concerned, they should all be taken out and shot."

I was angry.

Derek was angrier. "I think this tour is over. I've seen enough and heard enough."

The big guy was puzzled. "Huh, I got a couple more places to show you before we go back to see the coaches."

"No, you don't. We're done, and we're leaving."

He turned and walked away. I followed.

The big guy stood there with a puzzled look on his face.

We went back to the coaching staff's office suite to wait for Grandpa Jackson, Daddy, and Scott to come back. The receptionist was surprised that we were back early from our guided tour. I think she could tell from our expressions that something wasn't right. She went back into the hallway with the offices and emerged a few minutes later with one of the assistant coaches.

He came over and introduced himself as Al Remler.

"Carol said you guys were back early from your tour. You spoke with Coach Bates before, but he's not here right now. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Derek took the lead, "Yes, sir, there is. Will you tell Mr. Bates that we're no longer interested in playing football for Georgia."

"Wha...what made you change you mind? Did something happen on your tour?"

"Yes, something did happen. Our guide made some crude remarks about how he thought homosexuals should all be killed."

"I'm sure he didn't mean it that way."

"Well, I took it that way. My best friend is gay, and I'm not interested in playing at any school where he wouldn't be welcome in the locker room."

"I'm sorry that you were offended, Derek." He turned to me. "What about you, Brett?"

"I feel the same way as Derek. Would you thank Coach Bates for his time today. We'll just wait here for our families."

The poor man made his excuses and retreated to his office.

We left the campus almost as soon as the rest of our crew arrived. We headed out of Athens toward Atlanta. As a state senator, Derek's grandfather had found it convenient to keep a small two bedroom apartment in Atlanta so he didn't have to sleep in a motel or make the three or four hour drive from Atlanta back to Indian Crossing while the legislature was in session. We were going to spend the night at the apartment before leaving early in the morning for the four or five hour drive up to Adams State.

I drove while Derek told the story of our discussion about gays in the locker room. Daddy, Grandpa Jackson, and Scott thought it was hilarious. That just made Derek madder. He wasn't able to see any humor in the incident.

Finally he turned to me and said, "Didn't that bother you? That dumb jock was a raging homophobe. At least at the other places, they were a little more careful in their response. I was sticking up for you. Why aren't you as mad as I am?"

"I am mad about it Derek. I was really disappointed in the responses I got at Florida State and Georgia Southern, too; but I think if you really scratched the surface of the players there, they would be just as homophobic as that guy was today."

"Then what's so funny?"

"Derek, think about what that `dumb jock' is probably going through right now. I imagine he's sitting in a coach's office trying to explain why they just lost two scholarship prospects. Bet that poor guy finds himself in a `sensitivity training session' tomorrow morning."

Derek cracked a smile for the first time.

Grandpa Jackson's apartment was nice. He and Daddy got the beds in the two bedrooms. Derek, Scott, and I crashed out on the floor.

We got up early the next morning, showered (it helped that there were two full bathrooms in the apartment), ate a quick breakfast, and were on the road to Adams State by seven.

I was expecting our visit there to be another version of our earlier campus visits.

Man, was I wrong about that.

(To be continued)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some of the characters who play parts in this story were previously introduced in "When Love Comes" (last posted in the College section on Sept. 6, 2001), "Love of a Lifetime" (last posted in the College section on May 19, 2003), "Finding Family" (last posted in the College section on June 5, 2008), or "Construction Job" (last posted in the College section on July 24, 2008). While not necessary, readers may find it useful to read the earlier stories posted on this site.  All of the Adams State/Carterville stories listed above as well as my other stories are also posted at www.crvboy.com.

Send comments to: jeff_allen15@hotmail.com