To the Mat

To the Mat - Pt 2

To the Mat -- Pt. 2, by Swimmboy4@aol.com

This story involves sexual contact between young males. If such stories are not appealing to you, or it is illegal to read such material in your jurisdiction, please do not continue reading.

The weight of Edward's relatively light body suddenly suspended by the tie cord was not enough to snap his neck, but the cord did immediately begin choking him, as his airway was closed off. Instinctively, he began to weakly claw at the binding around his throat as the darkened room before him slowly faded toward black. Within thirty seconds, his vision began to cloud, and his feeble struggles became weaker. The last thing he saw was a brilliant light, and an angel appeared, looking surprisingly like Bryan. Edward smiled weakly, just as he lost consciousness.

Bryan stood in the doorway, the light from the hallway behind him surrounding him with an aura of brightness. He was surprised the room was so dark, and fumbled for the light switch. What he saw next made him burst out laughing. "Dude, what the hell! What kind of a dumb prank is th...Edward? EDWARD!" Bryan screamed, as his mind finally sorted out what his eyes were seeing -- the dangling body, the cord, the purplish-red face, eyes closed, the body slowly swaying, but not moving on its own. Quick as a flash, he jumped over to where Edward was hanging, wrapped his arms around the boy's thin thighs, and lifted him enough to relieve the pressure on Edward's throat and neck. An anguished scream of sheer panic emanated from Bryan's mouth -- a cry that brought several boys from nearby dorm rooms running to his aid. One boy, a lifeguard at the school pool, untied the cord and helped Bryan lower the limp body to the floor, while another student dialed 911 on his cell phone. The lifeguard was well-trained -- he quickly felt around Edward's neck, and finding nothing that appeared broken, began to administer CPR. Others were rushing in and out of the room, some hurrying to the building's front doors to lead rescue personnel to the room, some offering assistance, many just curious about what had happened. During this confusion, the folded paper on Bryan's pillow was swept off the bed, slipping down between the bed and wall, landing on the floor beneath the bed, one corner barely visible.

Bryan was slowly recovering from the shock of what he'd found as the paramedics loaded Edward, who was just barely breathing, onto a stretcher and rushed him to a waiting ambulance. The dorm resident assistant, who had never expected to confront such a situation, was trying his best to answer questions, complete paperwork, check Edward's emergency contact information, and quiet the many students who were demanding information. As the crowd drifted away, Bryan could hear the sound of the ambulance siren as it became more distant, racing toward the hospital on the outskirts of town. And suddenly, Bryan was alone. He sank to the floor, shaking and trembling uncontrollably. He stared across the room for several moments, then felt a choking sob rise from his chest. He felt utterly lost and alone. He slowly picked up his phone and placed a call. "Co...Cody, can you...please, can you come here...right now...can you come to my room? Now, please, right now."

Cody's apartment was a good ten minute bike ride from Bryan's dorm. He reached the dorm building in six minutes flat, knowing something was wrong, terribly wrong, not knowing what it could be. As he ran up the stairs and down the hallway, he overheard snippets of conversations -- "ambulance", "suicide", "rope" -- but could not imagine what it all meant. He reached Bryan's dorm room and opened the door without knocking. His teammate was sitting on the floor, a look of total shock still on his face. Kneeling beside Bryan, he gently placed his hands on the athlete's broad shoulders, saying simply, "I'm here, Bryan."

For several seconds, Bryan seemed to stare right past Cody, until he finally recognized that a friend was there -- someone to comfort him, to help him. As if a floodgate had suddenly opened, Bryan began to babble, rushing to explain what he had found, what had transpired, speaking so rapidly that Cody had to slow him down and ask him to repeat some things two or even three times. "So, I don't know if he's even dead or alive, Cody. I don't know. I think the school will call his parents. Maybe I should call them. I don't know their phone number. Maybe I should call the hospital, or go there, or do something." Bryan was struggling to cope with what he had witnessed. Cody simply sat on the floor beside him, placed his arm around him, and pulled Bryan close.

After several minutes of quiet talk, Bryan began to relax. A knock on the door startled both boys. It was the resident assistant, asking if Bryan was alright, or if he perhaps needed to speak with a counselor, though the RA wasn't sure one was available on campus at that hour. Taking charge, Cody explained that Bryan was his teammate, and that he would stay with him and see to his well-being. The RA nodded understandingly and departed. Meanwhile, Bryan had begun to slowly straighten up the room as best he could, though his hand began to shake when he picked up the discarded robe cord that had so recently been around Edward's neck. Looking to help, Cody also began righting things around the room. Noticing a paper on the floor, nearly hidden beneath Bryan's bed, he picked it up, but then set it aside when Bryan slumped to the floor, clutching the cord in his hand. Rushing over, he slowly helped Bryan back to his feet, then steered him to his bed, where both wrestlers then sat, side by side.

Cody kept his arm around Bryan's shoulder, occasionally rocking him gently, soothing him, as Bryan expressed his concerns and fears. Suddenly, Cody remembered something the RA had whispered to him at the door. "Bryan," he said, "the RA told me they think Edward will be OK -- the ambulance crew think you found him just in time." For the first time that night, a small smile flickered across Bryan's face, and some color returned to his cheeks. Both boys laughed when their quiet conversation was interrupted by a loud rumbling from Bryan's empty stomach, and Bryan realized he'd never made it to dinner that night. But he refused to go out, so Cody went along the hallway asking for anything the other dorm residents had that he could give Bryan to eat. A meal of Ramen noodles, a banana, some graham crackers, and cookies had soon filled Bryan's tummy, and he finally stretched out on his bed. Cody, without hesitation, walked over to him, got him to sit up, and proceeded to remove his shirt, sandals and sweats, leaving him in just the small bikini briefs that had elicited comments from Edward earlier in the evening. Again, without hesitation, Cody removed his own clothing, stripping down to his boxer-briefs. Pulling down the blanket and sheet on Bryan's relatively small bed, he scooted the freshman under the covers and over against the wall, then climbed into bed beside him, cradling him as best he could.

Bryan was resting quietly on his side, facing the wall, with Cody `spooning' him. Cody's arm was draped across Bryan's side, his hand against the younger teen's chest. He could feel Bryan breathing slowly, steadily. Lying in bed with Bryan this way reminded Cody of his freshman year, when Doug had "adopted" him as a teammate. Cody and Doug had been in the same weight class -- just as Cody and Bryan were now -- and Cody fondly remembered the many hours they had spent together -- in the practice room, in the weight room, on the road, hanging with each other in the dorms. Cody remembered that night in Indianapolis, when their team was wrestling in the conference championships, staying at the hotel, sharing a room -- and a bed -- with Doug. The athletic budget at Holden College was rather tight, and teams had to spend wisely, so room sharing was the norm, at least for the non-revenue athletes such as wrestlers. Cody and Doug had shared rooms before, but that night had been different. It was the last night of the championships, and Coach Weber had his hands full trying to keep a rowdy bunch of college boys from blowing off too much steam in celebration of their victory. Some were trying to sneak out to a bar, a couple had found a strip club down the block they wanted to investigate. Cody had been eager to sneak away someplace -- anyplace -- but Doug had escorted him back to their room, telling him he was simply too young for the activities the older boys had spoken about.

This had angered the young buck, and he was in a sour mood back in their room. As Doug had begun stripping for bed, Cody had made a dash for the door, thinking Doug would never chase him into the hallway wearing just his briefs. But Cody was wrong, for Doug had indeed chased and caught him, dragging him back to their room by the collar of his shirt. The younger boy had been furious, and started pushing his older mentor, only to have Doug wrestle him to the carpet and begin removing his clothes, telling him he was to turn in, and threatening to tie him onto the bed if he didn't behave.

As Doug had yanked Cody's shirt off, he'd had a sudden idea of how to tame the kid, and get him under control. He began to tickle Cody. Through the hours they'd spent practicing holds and escapes, Doug knew every ticklish spot on Cody's body, and he put that knowledge to good use. The smug, defiant teen was quickly reduced to a quivering, squirming boy, eyes tearing as he gasped for breath, pleading and begging the older wrestler to stop. But Doug had been relentless, going for Cody's thighs, his lower abs, his sides, his pits, until Cody was completely helpless and totally at his mercy. Straddling the younger boy, Doug was in a position of total dominance, and enjoying it. Enjoying it so much that he had unknowingly become aroused in his briefs, something that Cody had quickly noticed as he blinked to clear the tears from his eyes. And then Cody had done something he'd never done before -- he reached up and grasped Doug's hard shaft through the briefs, and held it tightly, slowly applying pressure until Doug had stopped the tickling and had become very, very compliant.

Doug had looked into Cody's eyes, and Cody had looked into Doug's. Neither boy spoke, yet neither tried to pull away from the other, either. Cody had never touched another guy's cock before that night, but at that moment, he suddenly realized the power and control one man gains by wrapping his hand around another guy's erect organ. And in that instant, Cody found himself loving this new power. Doug had stopped tickling him, so he could have released Doug from his grip -- but he didn't. His hand would not, or could not, let go of that steel-hard shaft. Instead, his fingers had begun exploring it through the thin material of his underwear -- caressing and stroking it, tracing the veins, rubbing along the flared corona. Doug had started to grow short of breath then, and Cody had noticed that the cock he held had begun to secrete drops of stickiness from the tip, creating a large damp spot on the cotton fabric. Cody had lost control then -- as if some chained beast had suddenly broken free, he had attacked Doug's cock with a vengeance. Stripping -- nearly ripping -- Doug's briefs off, he had begun to pump and stoke and jack that hard tube of manmeat with a fury. Doug's head had rolled back, his mouth wide open in a silent groan, and in only a few short moments, Doug's cock had literally erupted, spraying both boys with a stream of warm, stringy spooge. And then, Cody had released Doug from his grasp, suddenly feeling ashamed and humiliated over what he had just done to his best friend.

Quietly, Doug had gone into the bathroom to clean himself up, then he came out, donned a fresh pair of briefs, and climbed into bed -- all without saying a word. Cody had cleaned up also, then climbed into the other side of the bed. About four minutes later, Doug had rolled over to Cody's side. And about thirty seconds after that, had begun to kiss Cody's hard body, nipping at his nipples, licking his neck and his armpits, then proceeding to slide his tongue down Cody's torso until he was licking at sucking at the pouch containing Cody's virgin manhood. His boxer-briefs were quickly tugged down to his knees, and Doug had tenderly taken Cody's rapidly hardening meat into his mouth, giving the boy his first ever blowjob, and what Cody would still swear was the largest, most powerful ejaculation his body had ever experienced.

It had only been that one night -- neither boy had ever spoken of the incident again. Yet now, cradling Bryan in his arms, Cody's mind flashed back to that night some two years earlier, and he found himself lusting with desire for this teen he now held in his arms. He was startled out of his reverie when Bryan suddenly spoke to him. "Cody, I need to tell you something -- something strange about tonight. Something I just realized when we were straightening the room."

"What is it, Bry?" Cody replied, making room as best he could as Bryan turned to face him.

"Well, um, I'm not sure if you noticed or not, but I'm not wearing my usual underwear. I had put these Elance briefs on earlier today just to get used to them for the meet next week. I like to wear these under my singlet to help keep my stuff in place -- oh, hell, you know what I mean, you're a wrestler! You know how we have to wear something under our singlets to keep our cocks from sliding around against that itchy fabric." Cody chuckled quietly, nodding his head in agreement. Bryan continued: "Well, Edward came in earlier and saw me in these bikini briefs, and he asked me about why I was wearing them, so I explained. I mean, gee Cody, Edward and I are roommates, and we see each other in underwear all the time. He wears boxers, I wear boxer-briefs or briefs, but not bikini briefs, so I guess it seemed strange to him to see me in these. Anyway, as I explained to him my reason for wearing them, I had tossed him another pair of my bikini briefs to see what they were like. Then, we got into this huge argument about some trash I'd thrown that went under his bed, and the next thing you know, we were fighting. Not really fighting -- not hitting or punching -- just pushing and wrestling. I pretty easily pinned him, picked up the trash and went out for a walk."

"Yeah, I know Bryan, you told me all this earlier -- the fight was minor, and I'm sure he didn't hold a grudge over that," Cody responded.

"I know, I know," Bryan said, "but, there's something else. When I came back and found him hanging there, he was only wearing underwear -- MY underwear, my bikini briefs -- the ones I'd tossed to him earlier. When we were straightening up the room, I noticed they were nowhere on the floor or anywhere, and not back in my drawer. And then it hit me - Edward tried to hang himself in my underwear, Cody. Why? I don't understand that."

Cody, being older and wiser than the innocent freshman, suddenly realized what was going on, what had happened in the dorm room earlier that night. On an impulse, he said to Bryan, "Did you or the paramedics find a note or letter -- anything written by Edward?"

"No, I don't think so. I didn't see anything like that," said Bryan. But Cody suddenly remembered the paper he'd found under the corner of Bryan's bed, and he jumped up and retrieved it from the desk where he'd put it down. It was folded several times, and the name "Bryan" was written on it -- Cody hadn't noticed that earlier.

"Is this yours? I found it under your bed when we were cleaning up," Cody said as he handed the paper to Bryan. The younger athlete shook his head, looking puzzled as he saw the note for the first time. He unfolded it and began to read, his eyes growing wider with each sentence.

"Oh, oh, oh my God," Bryan uttered, as his eyes began to tear. "It's, it's a note from Edward. He must have written it right before, well, before what he did. He says, well, it's really personal."

"Let me make a guess," said Cody. "He wrote something about you, about how much you mean to him, how much he cares about you, how sorry he is for what he is going to do."

Bryan bowed his head, tears spilling down his cheeks, as he quietly answered. "Yes, something like that, very much like that. I had no idea -- I thought he hated me, or at the least, could barely stand me. Cody, is it my fault -- what he did tonight?"

"NO! No, Bryan, none of this is your fault. He had a crush on you -- plain and simple. And he figured you would never feel the same about him, and he just couldn't handle that, and he snapped," Cody said, trying to assure his friend that none of the incident was his fault.

"But, but what about my briefs? Why was he wearing them?" asked Bryan.

"Hmmmm..., I'd guess he felt that was one way to be close to you -- to wear something so intimate -- your underwear. It could be he had a fetish for your briefs, and imagined they would bring him closer to you," Cody responded.

What...what's a fetish? I've heard that word, but I'm not too familiar with it, Cody, and I really don't understand this," Bryan stated, staring into Cody's eyes.

Cody had forgotten just how young and innocent freshmen can be, and as he sat back down on the bed next to Bryan, he said, "A fetish is like, well, maybe like an addiction. It's a desire to have something, usually something very personal or intimate, that belongs to someone you have an attraction to. Some guys like to take panties or bras from girls they like, sort of as a trophy or reminder of that girl. Sometimes, they may not even know the girl -- there was a guy in Tennessee who had this fetish for women's shoes -- it got so out of control he would steal shoes from women he'd just see on the street. I've heard there are guys that go into locker rooms, looking for other guys' underwear, Speedos -- you know, anything of that sort. When I was in high school, guys in the locker room kept losing their jock straps -- turned out, the janitor had a thing for them -- he would steal them out of lockers, out of the dirty laundry cart -- when they finally caught him, they found over two hundred jocks in his house, all neatly labeled with the owners name, age, date stolen, and a description he had written of what he wanted to do to each guy if he caught him in his strap -- really perverted stuff, from what I heard."

"Oh, um, I guess I see," said Bryan, as yet more of his youthful innocence slipped away. "So, you think Edward, he, well, maybe he had some really personal feelings, or an attraction, toward me? Like, maybe he was in love with me or something? That's sort of what this letter he wrote implies, but some of what he says is just so personal, that I would prefer not to show it to you." Cody nodded understandingly.

"Well, yes, I'd say that's about right. The police or maybe his parents will need to see that letter, so you should hold onto it," Cody replied.

"No, Cody, no -- please don't tell anyone, at least, not unless they ask. If he had, well, you know, if he had died or whatever, maybe it wouldn't matter. But if he lives, I just can't let others know about this -- not without his permission," Bryan stated forcefully. Cody quietly agreed, and soon, the two young men had snuggled down together in Bryan's narrow bed, sleep coming in small doses as the night progressed toward morning.

Neither Cody or Bryan had an early class the next day, so Cody hurried back to his apartment and got permission to use his roommate Luke's car. He drove back to campus, picked up Bryan, and drove him to the hospital. At first, the nurse denied Bryan access to Edward's room, explaining his parents were due to arrive later that morning, and only family would be allowed visitation rights. "But, you don't understand. I must see him. I'm his roommate at Holden -- I think I'm the only friend he has here. Please mam, please let me just check in on him, just so he knows people here care about him," Bryan pleaded. Finally, the nurse agreed.

While Cody waited in the lounge area, Bryan went to the room and slowly opened the door. Edward was lying in bed, an oxygen tube under his nose, his neck badly bruised and discolored. Frighteningly, his hands and arms were strapped to the bed. He was awake, and a look of sheer dread and panic crossed his face as Bryan entered the room. Edward quickly looked away, staring blankly out the window. But he turned back to face Bryan as he felt the wrestler step up to the bed and warmly grasp his immobilized left hand. "Edward, oh Edward, my God, you're okay, thank God you're OK," Bryan whispered.

Edward began to speak, his voice raspy and low. "Bryan, what...what are you doing here?" he asked.

"I had to come see you, make sure you were alright. The hospital passed word to the RA last night that you would be okay, but I wanted to come by this morning and make sure," Bryan said.

Suddenly, a look of sadness crossed Edward's face. "I'm not okay," he said slowly, "I'm a total disaster. So hopeless, so scared. God, I couldn't even kill myself right. What a fucking dumb shit loser I am. And, well, I guess you know everything now. What I am, what a lost cause I am. I guess you saw my letter," he said sadly.

Still holding Edward's hand, Bryan smiled at him, shaking his head. "Yes, I read the letter. It was very...touching, very emotional. And here I thought you couldn't stand the sight of me!" A brief grin appeared on Edward's face for just an instant, but it quickly turned into a grimace.

"Oh Bryan," he said, "it must sicken you to be near me -- to know how I felt about you. All those things I kept hidden. God, you must totally hate me...I...I can't even imagine how you can stand to be here with me," Edward concluded.

"I'm here because we are roommates, and because we are friends, despite all the bickering and arguing we do. But Edward, there are things you need to know -- things you said in your letter that were so totally opposite to the truth. Dude, the "Bryan" you love in that letter does not exist. You have this image of me -- at least according to your letter -- of this perfect guy who has the whole world in his hands -- a jock, a ladies man, a lover, a guy with tons of friends, a guy with some perfect life. Shit, Edward, when you meet that Bryan, will you please introduce him to me? I sure don't know anyone like that." Edward looked into Bryan's eyes, a puzzled expression on his face, as the wrestler continued. "Okay, I guess you can call me a `jock' since I'm on the wrestling team. But big deal -- other than you and my teammates, nobody on this campus knows -- or cares -- that I'm an athlete. We're not like the football and basketball players who get their pictures and names in the school and town paper every day -- THEY are the true jocks that everyone fawns over. Hardly anyone else gives a rat's ass about us wrestlers. And your letter called me a ladies man, who scores with any chick I want? Edward, you couldn't be more wrong. Just over a year ago, I tried to make it with this girl from my high school -- but I couldn't do it. I don't know what happened to me, but I just couldn't, well, you know, perform. Maybe I was scared, or insecure, or just as dumb in that department as I am in English or math or history. Hell, Edward, `Rosie Palmer' is the only lady my cock has ever known," said Bryan, as he smiled faintly and held up his right hand, waving his palm in Edward's face.

As these words were sinking in, Bryan continued. "Friends? I have loads of friends? What friends? Other than a few of my teammates, and, well, you, I haven't made even one friend on this campus. And last year, when my so-called high school friends got word of my, well, how can I put this, my sexual inadequacy, well, you wouldn't believe how quick my so-called `friends' were to desert me! My senior year of high school was pure hell. Without wrestling, I wouldn't even be in college -- my math teacher hated me so much last year, I had to stay after nearly every day while she tortured me with extra work, even though I couldn't understand a bit of it! My God, Edward -- last week, you left a paper on your desk -- maybe it was a history test or something your professor had graded -- the words "Excellent Job" were written across the top. Do you remember that?" Edward nodded, though he wasn't sure whether it was his sociology or history paper Bryan was referring to, since both had carried the same notation next to his "A" grade. "Do you know I can't even remember -- ever -- when a teacher wrote something like that on one of my papers?" Bryan continued. "If a paper with that written on it was handed to me, I would automatically pass it on down the row, sure it was anyone's but mine."

"Edward, what I mean to say is this -- some people, and I think you are one -- seem to think college athletes lead these charmed lives -- and maybe a few, a very few -- do. But not me, man -- not even close. Not even a small fraction of us. We have many of the same failures, the same fears, make the same stupid mistakes that everyone else does. We, and certainly not myself -- are not idols that others should look up to, so please, don't EVER consider yourself a lesser person than me, or think you don't `deserve' to be around me, as you said in that letter. I'm just as scared and confused and insecure in life as you or anyone else," Bryan stated factually, staring into Edward's eyes. The boys continued speaking quietly for some time, and Bryan told Edward things he had never spoken of before -- regarding his own inadequacies, insecurities, and abject failures. Edward began to realize that image does not always equal reality. And he realized Bryan was just as human, just as imperfect, as he was.

At that moment, the door opened and Edward's parents rushed into the room, looking fearful, drawn, exhausted. They had apparently been driving all night from Pennsylvania. "Please," Edward whispered, "don't tell them about the letter or why I did this. Let me try to explain to them." Bryan assured him he would say nothing, and after exchanging a few brief words with the Prescotts, he left the room and walked with Cody back to the car.

The guys said little on the drive back to campus, but agreed to talk more following the afternoon's practice. When Bryan reached the gym around 3 p.m., Coach Weber, who had been informed of the suicide attempt, offered Bryan the chance to skip the workout and talk with a counselor. But Bryan said he would rather get back to the routine he was accustomed to, and the coach and his fellow teammates seemed to understand. Later on, Cody treated him to the pizza dinner he'd missed out on the night before. Bryan was deeply moved when Cody offered to stay another night with him in the dorm, or to let him stay at the apartment for as long as he desired. But Bryan wanted to stay on campus, so asked Cody to stay, just for one more night, and Cody agreed to do so. As they reached the dorm entrance, they ran into the Prescotts. The kindly couple pulled Bryan into a hug, thanking him for saving their son, then said Edward would be leaving the hospital in the morning, and returning with them to their home town, where they would seek help for him.

"Mr. and Mrs. Prescott, I hope Edward can return here to Holden for the spring semester," Bryan said. "Please tell him to call me, text me, e-mail me, whatever -- at any time. I want him to stay in touch with me. Tell him I'll be waiting to hear from him." The older couple nodded and smiled, then walked away. Back inside the dorm room, Bryan slumped into a small chair, telling Cody he felt totally wiped out.

"It's been a tough twenty-four hours for you, Bry, that's for sure," said Cody. A good night's sleep will you do a world of good -- let's hit the showers, relax a little, and get some sleep." When they returned to the room, Cody offered to sleep in Edward's empty bed, but Bryan asked him if they could sleep in the one bed as they'd done the previous night, and Cody agreed. That night, both in boxer-briefs, they again slipped under the covers on Bryan's narrow bed. When sleep finally came, it was a deep, penetrating rest for Bryan, his body struggling to recover from the strain he'd been under. The rest was more fitful for Cody, however, as once again he was tormented by memories of Doug, and desires for Bryan that were just being awakened, though he was fighting like hell to keep them at bay.

Bryan was at the campus pool, swimming laps, wearing his brief competition swimsuit from his summer league team. Edward was in the lifeguard chair, watching over him, keeping him safe. Nobody else was at the pool, so Edward had no one else to watch, anyway. "That's funny," thought Bryan, "I didn't know Edward was a guard here on campus." Suddenly, Bryan felt a terrible cramp in his stomach -- oh, he had forgotten to eat dinner! The cramp was bad, and he was slipping under the water, fighting for breath. Suddenly, Edward was there, wrapping his arm around Bryan's chest, easing him to the side of the pool, helping him onto the deck. Gently, Edward stretched him out, then leaned forward and placed his lips on Bryan's...

As the dream began, Bryan had begun twisting and twitching in bed, arousing Cody from his slumber. While they were sleeping, the sheet and blanket had been tossed aside, leaving both athletes naked on the bed except for their underwear. The dim light filtering in under the shade illuminated the room just enough for Cody to see. He could see Bryan next to him, could see his lips moving slightly as he faintly mumbled something in his sleep. And he could see Bryan's hard shaft, desperately struggling to break free from the boxer-briefs entrapping it, could see its long, slender form where it arched toward the waistband, forming an enormous lump or bulge at Bryan's groin. As Cody became more awake, he realized Bryan was dreaming, and from the look of things, was perhaps on the verge of having a wet dream, a "nocturnal emission", as his old Boy Scout handbook had described it. Cody had to smile when he remembered seeing that entry in his Scout book years ago, and he remembered how relieved he'd been to read the line that said something about `some boys like to cause these emissions themselves, but that is OK, it won't hurt you." Oh, how relieved he'd been to learn that -- to realize all those stories about `going blind' or `growing hair on your palms' were untrue! Now, here he was, lying next to Bryan, and feeling a wicked temptation to do to Bryan what he'd so frequently done to himself. Masturbation.

"Dare I touch him?" Cody asked himself. "What if he awoke -- what would he say?" Curiosity and desire got the best of him, and slowly, very gently, Cody placed his hand upon the bulge in Bryan's underwear, where he could feel the outline of the long, rock-hard shaft beneath his fingers, then the softer feel of the freshman's loaded nutsac, where two of the heftier testicles Cody had observed on any of his teammates, resided. About twenty seconds later, Cody quickly removed his hand, feeling utter shame for what he'd just done, taking advantage of his friend at a time when Bryan needed him. "Oh, God, what kind of person am I?" Cody asked silently, angry with himself for his untoward behavior. "Bryan needs me, he trusts me. And what do I do? Put my hands all over him with thoughts of jerking him off! Man, I am sick," said the thoughts echoing in Cody's brain. But within minutes, as Bryan continued to squirm and sigh next to him, temptation quickly returned, and Cody once again found himself touching and rubbing Bryan's dick, dirty thoughts of `milking' and `fucking' the sperm from his bedmate now filling his pounding head.

"Come back to me, Bryan, come back," said lifeguard Edward as he gently kissed Bryan's lips, then his entire body, kissing life back into his limbs and torso, and then, yes, into his crotch. Bryan wanted to cry out, but couldn't. His voice was gone, and no sound could escape from his lips. He couldn't believe Edward was now kissing him on his Speedo, his lips tracing the length of his shaft beneath the thin lycra fabric, stirring his sex organ to life right there by the pool. Bryan tried once again to cry out -- but no sound could he make. But he could feel himself hardening, lengthening in his small suit, as Edward's lips continued to kiss up and down his aching shaft...

Cody's self-control was slipping away as he felt Bryan's body -- Bryan's long cock -- responding to his touch. More brazenly than before, he began to tease and tickle Bryan's maleness, rubbing the shaft, gently squeezing the scrotum -- tormenting the sleeping youth into a state of sexual arousal, his cock ready to release his pent-up supply of semen in a rushing torrent of manseed. Once again, conflicting emotions were crashing into one another in Cody's head -- desire to love the sleeping youth beside him, and shame over taking advantage of Bryan's sweet and trusting nature.

Bryan was awake. He had awakened with an intense burning in his loins, his cock on the edge of exploding in his underwear. He was awake, wasn't he? That weird dream -- Edward kissing him on the pool deck, his lips moving down over his torso, settling on his groin, kissing his dick through his Speedo...it was a dream, yet he was still being kissed down there, or at least touched. Yes, that was it, someone was touching him, groping and fondling his sex organ...oh, man, it felt so good...it felt so...but who? What? Cody -- that had to be it. Cody was beside him, and he could feel Cody's arm resting on his hip, reaching down, his hand playing with his maleness...

Bryan had moved suddenly, or grunted...something told Cody Bryan had awakened. Quickly, he slipped his hand away, carefully moving his arm back to his side of the bed. What if Bryan had felt him touching his dick? What if Bryan had been awake the whole time? What if...

All Bryan knew was that the pleasure had suddenly, abruptly ceased. The hand which had been pumping his cock had been withdrawn, and was no longer touching him in that wonderful way. Before he could stop himself, he quietly said, "Please, don't stop, Cody. Please don't pull away." The hand returned. Tentatively, then more urgently, Bryan felt Cody's hand once again grasp his throbbing shaft, toying with it through his briefs. Then, that same hand suddenly snaked down under the waistband of his boxer-briefs, wrapped around his turgid penis, and began jerking his prong, milking burning drops of pre-cum from the tip of his dick. Fingers eagerly spread the gooey syrup all along and around Bryan's prick, making it slippery, allowing the pumping hand to slide ever more rapidly and effectively up and down, up and down, edging the young wrestler ever closer to a shuddering climax. No words were spoken, only a few low groans and grunts from both boys could be heard, and the slick sound of a wet hand rubbing and pumping a long, hard, wet cock. A final grunt from Bryan, and then his dick began shooting a streaming load of seed, his sperm jetting from his pulsing cockshaft and spraying onto his lower abs, his pubic hair, his underwear, and the hand and fingers still encircling his meat, pumping and draining him dry.

And then, in the darkness, Bryan felt Cody's hands and fingers, carefully wiping the gobs of spunk from his body, scooping the semen away...then, the hand was gone, retracted from his briefs...but a smell, not unfamiliar or unpleasant, soon wafted into Bryan's nostrils. It was an odor he knew well, the smell of his own semen. Cody's sopping fingers, covered and dripping with spooge, were there, at Bryan's mouth, offering him a taste -- a feast -- of his own secretions. And like a nursing suckling, the younger teen found himself licking, then sucking the proffered digits, the warmth and flavor of his own seed so delectable, so sensual. Gently, he tongued Cody's fingers one by one, enjoying what he had enjoyed so many times before when he had been alone, naked, and aroused.

Sated, Bryan began to try and turn in the narrow bed, saying, "Cody, I want to touch you, too. I want to..." But Cody wouldn't hear of it, gently prodding his younger teammate back into a comfortable position on the bed.

"No, Bryan, not now," Cody whispered. "You needed to relax, you needed relief from the strain you've been under. There will be other times, but not yet. You need to sleep now, to just close your eyes and relax your body. To sleep in peace tonight, without dreams. Lie here next to me, close your eyes, and go back to sleep." And as the tensions of the past twenty-four hours finally began to ease, that was exactly what Bryan did.

He awoke the next morning -- alone. Cody was gone, and his side of the bed was cool to the touch, indicating he had been gone for awhile. Bryan couldn't imagine how Cody had slipped away without him knowing about it, since usually he was a fairly light sleeper. A small piece of paper was on Cody's pillow. Unfolding it, Bryan read this simple statement, neatly (for Cody, neatly meant it was actually legible) printed in block letters: "Whenever you need me, I am here for you." Bryan smiled. He remembered the night before -- how natural, comfortable it felt to have Cody beside him, touching him so intimately. It was not awkward, forced, nerve-wracking as it had seemed with Samantha the previous year at the pool party -- it had just felt, well, `right.' Glancing at the clock, he was astounded to see it was nearly 10 a.m., and he would only have time for a quick breakfast before his 11 o'clock class. But it was Friday, so Bryan was wired -- a few classes, afternoon practice, then the weekend! His classes seemed to rush by, and before he knew it, he was in the gymnasium practice room, where Cody and the others were all preparing for the afternoon workout. Fridays were always fun -- maybe just the anticipation of the weekend made them so. The guys were in a jovial mood -- the "other" Bryan -- Bryan `B-Man' Bingham was back at practice, his shoulder now healed from an earlier injury. Little Jamie Knox, who barely weighed 125 pounds soaking wet, was playfully teasing the big bruiser, who weighed in at 220 pounds, if not more. All of a sudden, `B-Man' scooped the little fellow up with one arm, threw him over his shoulder, and began carrying him toward the exit doors leading to the team locker room. Then, Jamie was suddenly squealing in a falsetto voice, "Help me! Help me! This big brute is going to take me away -- take liberties with me -- do all sorts of unnatural things to me! Please, help me -- someone, anyone!" The other boys started laughing and hollering, and even the coach -- usually so reserved -- was seen rolling his eyes in mock disgust, while grinning ear-to-ear a moment later.

Bryan hurried to the corner where Cody awaited him, and the two of them had a good laugh at the antics around them. All seemed right with the world again, Bryan thought -- Edward was alright and on his way home, the team was together and ready to practice, and Cody had proven to be more, much more, than just a friend and teammate. Bryan couldn't wait to see what the future would bring.