The Hart Diary: Chapter 4
All the legal stuff applies. Thanks to those that have sent me comments, keep them coming. Sorry it's taken me longer to write this one, I've had a lot of school work to keep me busy.
Friday was magnificent. At school all of my friends were wishing me luck for the big meet tomorrow. Even he said something to me out of the ordinary.
"I can't wait to see that meat in that speedo," he whispered to me as we were exiting math class.
Of course I popped a boner, sprung would be a better terminology. I don't think anyone noticed, which is hard to believe, someone should have seen a hard, eight inch cock in a pair of skinny jeans, but no one said anything to me about it. No one ever said anything sexual to me, except Amanda that was.
In drama class, Amanda was a prima donna. She was Lady Macbeth, she had been Lady Capulet, and I was pretty sure she liked me. It all started last year when I told her that I had depression and anxiety problems and she said she had the same condition. We'd read Prozac Nation at the same time, and she leant me a book about an Australian prostitute that I had liked. She said we were twins.
Now this year she has been making moves on me, I think. I'm kind of oblivious to that sort of thing, I never thought anyone liked me until someone else told me that they did, this had happened with some girl or other every year, twice or three times some years, and at first I was kind of interested. Not sexually of course, I just liked the idea that someone admired me. It made me feel giddy. Amanda did not make me feel giddy though, far from it. Amanda made me feel increasingly uncomfortable.
She had started these games with me. She would always refer to me as "my dear husband". I'd usually play along--I was happy that she was Lady Macbeth, I mean she was a friend and all, even though I had a suspicion she wanted more. She wore skimpier clothes to school. The year before I had liked the way she dressed, she wanted to be a fashion designer, and I had always complimented her. This year when I complimented her it was with decreasing credulity. She was acting like that Australian prostitute, except without the heroine to blame.
My friend Trey said she wanted my meat; this was the first time I put two and two together. The truth was, I was much more attracted to Trey than Amanda, but Trey was hopelessly straight, and I was in a relationship.
I had made a plan to tell Amanda eventually that I was gay. She was my best friend, or had been. Plus she had plenty of gay friends that I would like to meet. When I came out, I knew I would lose most of my friends, and I needed new ones to replace the losers. Also, I knew she could keep a secret. I mean I'd told her about my depression and she hadn't told anyone, and when she'd told me about the threesome she'd had with a thirty-year-old man and his wife I hadn't told a soul, not even my soul mate, although we didn't do much talking.
That is one thing I regretted, that we didn't talk much. I wanted to talk to him, anytime, all the time, but Pryce Vickers didn't talk to me that much anymore, except about swimming. I would start a conversation with him, just to hear his sweet, sweet, velvety voice, only to hear him come back with something about swimming. Unless he was talking about semen swimming from his dick down my throat, I was tired of hearing about swimming. I was still getting faster, though. The state meet was tomorrow, and not only were we sure we were going to win, we were going to break records, just so long as I could see Pryce cheering me on.
Afterschool we went to Pryce's house, we didn't even have practice. Pryce and I didn't go through the massage as usual, instead we both lay down on his white bed and sucked each other. I love the taste of his cock, so manly, yet innocent, almost like some rare flower. His dick was salty and sweet, all at the same time. I worshipped that dick. We were getting better at holding our loads. We knew what we liked and when we were close, the subtle movements undetectable to all but lovers.
He got me first. I blew a gasket in his waiting mouth. I was thrusting in and out, some of my cum ran down his cheeks. After he finished swallowing, and I finished spewing, I turned around and gave him a spider man kiss. We licked up all of the cum, hiding the evidence and enjoying the taste.
"Stand up," I said.
He did, and I went down on him. I first swallowed his ball sack, one ball at a time, tugging and lapping at it with my tongue. He was moaning. I loved his balls, the blonde hair that ran around them, how soft those hairs were, nothing like mine. My pubes were thick and wiry. You could barely see my balls under my dark and large pubes.
I moved my tongue upwards, licking every inch of his strong shaft. He was strong, he was a man, and I admired him for it. I took the head of his cock into my mouth and started bobbing on it. I took my left hand and reached around to his ass. I stuck a finger in his asshole. At first his erection weakened, he still moaned, but later it got stronger than before. Soon I was bobbing on one of the hardest cocks I had ever tasted.
In one swift movement I tried to swallow him. I gagged, but he loved it--I could tell by the moaning. I tried again, holding my breath like I do when I swim. I could hold my breath for about 50 seconds, and I was using that whole time until he blew straight down my throat. Pryce's baby batter coated my mouth. I licked some of it up on the tip of my tongue and stood up, waiting for Pryce to lick it off. He was strange, he liked the taste of his own cum, not many men do.
Afterwards we kissed. He pushed me onto the bed and then leapt on top of me like a wild tiger. He pinned me down.
"I love you so much," I said, almost tearing up.
"I love you, too, baby," he said.
We kissed.
"Call me baby," I said.
"You're my baby," he said, "and what does that make me?"
"My daddy?"
"That's right baby, and daddy loves his baby."
A million thoughts rushed through my head. He wanted me to call him daddy? That was so sick, incestuous, why did he want to do that? Then again, why was I so boned at the thought of calling him daddy? Maybe it was because he was so strong, he felt like my protector, my knight in shining armor, but then I was probably stronger than he was. He did have a stronger heart, though. I cried every time I saw The Reader, and I had never seen him cry. He got angry, I had experienced that first hand, but he never was sad. He was a hard man, a hard daddy.
He kissed me, and all my thoughts went away.
It was the day of the competition. I was siked, both because it would make Pryce and me look good and because it would be the end of swimming. The end of pointless conversations about form, precision, strengthening exercises, all that shit that separated the amateur swimmer from the pro. I was not interested in going pro, if anything I wanted to be an actor, or a trophy husband, something like that. Maybe now that swimming was over Pryce and I could talk about something else: us.
It wasn't that he wasn't attentive. He was very attentive to my needs in the bedroom, but out of it, we didn't talk about us. I knew why, keeping secrets. It made me so mad, how would straight people like it if they had to go around saying they were straight and having people judge them based on that? They probably wouldn't be strong enough to cope. I digress. Now we could talk about us. What were we, boyfriends, lovers, or something else?
That thought scared me, and I put it away. Of course we were lovers. We definitely weren't friends with benefits. The only reason I had sex with him was because I loved him, and he loved me. Didn't he?
Hardly the time or place for such speculation, I put the thoughts to bed and put on my speedo. The fates had worked in our favor, I was first to swim while Pryce was last. I stood on the diving platform and looked across the pool at my guy. He gave me a thumbs-up, which was the closest thing to blowing me a kiss he could safely manage.
I heard the buzzer and dove, as fast as I could. I was underwater, kicking hard, waiting to see my man cheering me on. When I breached the surface, happy, ecstatic even, he wasn't cheering. In fact he wasn't even looking at me--he was looking at the clock!
I know I must have stopped, a second, two, I don't know. It was like someone had ripped a hole in my chest. He didn't love me. No, no, not here, you can't break down here. I swam fast, this time so that I could get out of the pool at the other side. I had to wait until I could get to the locker room or, if anybody was in there, my car.
When I got out of the pool and Shelley started, I almost broke down. I couldn't look at him. When he said good job and swatted my butt, I couldn't take it in. All I knew in that moment was that I wished I was dead.
I made it to my car, miraculously most of me still put together. I cried, and I cried, and I cried.