In the interest of full disclosure I would like to mention that this story involves the following topics; rough, reluctant but consensual sex, anal sex, and both very dominant and completely submissive characters.
This story takes place during the Summer of 1970 and involves a very shy, meek and socially awkward guy whose life is forever changed one day in his 18th summer when an old classmate reenters his life. After he does, nothing is ever the same again.
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Chapter One: A blast from the past.
I recognized him right away, and when I saw him back at the soda cooler of the local convenience store, my heart skipped a beat, just like old times.
He was wearing white shorts and a light blue tank-top that showcased a physique that seemed even more impressive than it had been back three years ago when I had seen Tom daily back in ninth grade.
His ruddy complexion had been highlighted by a lot of exposure to the sun, which had brought out even more freckles on his burly frame. The flaming red hair that liberally coated his muscular legs and peeked out from all openings of the snug fitting tank-top brought back a lot of memories as well, and I found myself staring at Tom in a fog just as he looked over toward me.
"Jimmy?" Tom asked, and then his face lit up to a grin when he realized his guess was correct. "Long time no see."
I stuck out my hand, rather stunned that he would even remember my name, and saw it disappear in the beefy paw of my former classmate while I tried not to wince at his grip.
It wasn't like we traveled in the same circles or anything, since Tom had been an outgoing guy who played sports, whereas I was just, for lack of a better term, a nerd. An introverted bookworm back in ninth grade, meek and unassuming, who during the three years of high school had managed to not change a bit, which was a fact that did not elude Tom.
"You haven't changed a bit," Tom noted as he looked me over, and it was certainly true.
I still looked exactly like I had back when we shared classes. Same skinny body and same shy manner, and even though Tom was only a couple of inches taller than me, he looked like a giant in comparison, and while we talked I had to struggle to maintain eye contact.
Not only was it my nature to shy away and avert my eyes when talking to people, but it was those memories of Tom that had me occasionally looking him over.
Tom had left public school after ninth grade, transferring to a Catholic high school where he continued to excel in athletics, as I had noticed by reading the newspaper. As for me, I kept hitting the books while living in my own little world.
Now we were both heading off to college, as we learned by talking, and while I was staying local, Tom was headed out to the Midwest on an athletic scholarship.
Oddly enough, that fact made me feel a little sad. Why would being far away from someone that I had rarely seen bother me? Was it because it meant that all of the fantasies I had played out in my mind would never take place?
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Chapter Two: Remembering.
I seem to recall that I was in several of the same classes as Tom, but the only one that I truly remembered was gym class. It was there that began my fascination with Tom. Maybe infatuation would be a more accurate term, because it was that one October afternoon that was a rather major event in my young life.
It had been just another gym class, and probably one that I had managed to embarrass myself in. There was little I could do athletically at any skill level besides soccer, so I tended to try and avoid everything else until we got sent back inside to change.
The locker room was a terrifying enough place for me as it was, but for whatever reason, there were times when the gym teacher felt compelled to stand there and make sure everybody took a shower. The chance that you could actually work up a sweat in the 25 minutes of the period left after dressing was minimal at best, but that didn't matter to the teacher.
I loathed the walk to the enormous and intimidating ivory colored tiled room. You had to leave your towel in the drying room and walk in the showers naked, and there was nothing that provided any kind of privacy at all, so what I did at times like that was to run to a corner and let the spray hit me for a few seconds before running back out and hiding under my towel.
There were a few other guys like me; modest and intimidated by the less inhibited ones who proudly strutted their stuff without fear, and there was no one more modest than I was, for with good reason.
It hadn't taken me long to figure out that in the showers, all men are not created equal. After taking enough quick peeks at the other guys, I came to the realization that along with not being blessed with the most manly physique in the obvious ways, I had been rather cheated in another, far more intimate area.
So on the memorable day in question when I was forced into taking a shower, I did what I usually did. Avoiding the snapping of towels and the slapping of butts as best I could, I made sure the teacher checked my name off and headed for my usual corner for a quick rinse before fleeing. This time, however, I didn't leave as quickly.
Over on the side where I usually hid, Tom was scrubbing himself with soap while letting the water cascade down his face. My eyes quickly darted downward like they did to everyone else, but this time instead of peeking and hiding, I did a double take.
I forced myself to jerk my head away before he caught me staring at him, but the ten seconds or so that I was looking at him was permanently etched in my memory. That night, and many other nights after that, while alone in my bed I would replay that image in my head while I brought myself to orgasm.
After that day, I became more willing to take showers after gym class. I would plan my visit so that I would get in the shower just before Tom did, getting into a perfect spot to watch him enter the room. Keeping my privates shielded as best I could from everyone, especially Tom, I would watch him until he stepped under a nozzle and began lathering up, and at that point I would scurry out and hide under my towel.
Tom was on the wrestling and gymnastic teams, and I became an instant fan of those sports, cheering on our team at most of the home contests. I suppose I cared about the outcome, but I was mainly interested in Tom, and watching him compete in those skimpy uniforms was the highlight of that school year for me.
One afternoon, after he had won his wrestling match, I went over and congratulated him. Our relationship was only a "Hello" type thing, but that afternoon, just as I was turning away from Tom, he asked me if I would want to come over to his house that weekend.
Flustered to totally shocked, I panicked, mumbling some lie about having plans before hurrying away. I mentally kicked myself for being such an idiot, and that stupid reaction had haunted me ever since. Why in the world didn't I just say yes?
Tom transferred to that Catholic school after that school year, and we hadn't seen each other since that day. Oh, I had seen him plenty. I followed his exploits in the newspaper religiously, and had even attended a couple of his wrestling tournaments, but I always kept my distance.
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Chapter Three: Gay?
Despite my infatuation with Tom, I didn't consider myself gay. I liked girls, even though they didn't return the favor very often. As for guys, I would check other guys out in the shower, but that was it. Certainly nobody ever got my attention like Tom had, and I was convinced that nobody ever would.
My sex life in high school was almost non-existent, and I wished that even that one instance never happened, because it pretty much destroyed me. I had gone steady with this neighborhood girl for a few weeks, and when we were alone in the woods we started exploring each other's bodies.
I got to feel my first breasts that afternoon, groping Sue Paige's plump tits like they were bike horns, and in return Sue reached into my pants and pulled out my cock.
"Wow! Your dick is really little," Sue said as she held my throbbing erection in her hand, making a face at what she was holding as she pulled on it a couple of times.
I came almost immediately after that, humiliated at the way she spoke but not enough to have it affect my orgasm. Sue moved on to what I'm sure were bigger and better things, and I retreated farther into my shell, determined not to let myself get crushed like that again.
That was the extent of my sex life. One hand job from Sue Paige, whose amusement at my endowment had managed to take much of the enjoyment out of that, and about 5,000 orgasms that I brought on myself, mostly inspired by Tom. Time after time I would stare at those yearbook pictures of Tom; the one of him wrestling and the other one of Tom on the rings, executing a perfect Iron Cross.
That grainy black and white photo of Tom in his gymnastics uniform, with his shoulder and arm muscles rippling and his chest practically bursting out of the skimpy uniform, never failed to excite me, and even though he was wearing trunks in those photos, I managed to make them disappear in my mind as I recalled those days in the locker room.
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Chapter Four: Invitation.
All of those thoughts raced through my mind as we chatted outside the store. A better description of the conversation would be that Tom spoke while I listened and nodded, because his life was a lot more interesting than mine. While he spoke of his upcoming trip out west to start college and continue his athletic career, all I could manage was that I was going to go to the state college in town.
What else could I have added? I imagined that if I told him that I had spent a considerable amount of my life masturbating while looking at his yearbook picture, I would find myself on the ground picking up what was left of my teeth. With his strength and size advantage over me, he could and would probably crush me like a grape without even trying if I ever told him that, even if I assured him that I wasn't gay.
"Say, you want to come over to my house?" Tom said after a few minutes.
"Me?" I asked, as if there was anybody else around us at the time, and I started to panic as I tried to find an answer.
"Uh... sure," I managed to say, and mentally patted myself on the back for not making the same mistake twice.
So we walked down the street to the cul de sac his house was, Tom talking and me mostly listening. My heart was racing as we headed around the bend to his place. I knew right where he lived, even though I had never been there, because I managed to ride my bike nearby on a regular basis, hoping to see him by chance.
Instead of going into his house, he led me along the side and into the rear of the property, where a small building stood in the back of the spacious yard. It was a barn garage with a second floor, and as it turned out it was an little attic apartment which served as Tom's workout room as well.
Tom closed the door behind me after I followed him in, and then locked it, which I thought was a little weird. Tom seemed very relaxed about it however, and calmly showed me around the stuffy apartment. It was essentially a workout room with a cot and chair, along with a small bathroom. The ceiling was about 10 feet tall in the center of the room, but tapered down on the sides of the room, with thick beams running across that our heads barely missed as we walked under them.
"Not fancy, but it's got everything I need," Tom said. "It's like my Fortress of Solitude. My Mom isn't crazy about my lifestyle, but as long as I keep it out of the house she's pretty cool about it. How about your folks? They upset about it?"
I shrugged my shoulders, not really sure why he mother would object to him lifting weights, being a star athlete and getting a scholarship, but before I could ask him what he meant I got distracted. That might be an understatement, because I probably did a triple take when I saw what was attached to the side of beam we had just walked under.
"Like them?" Tom said, chuckling as he saw my reaction to the wrist bracelets hanging on the chains. "Hope so, even though they might be a little big on you."
I jumped when Tom's hand came up and grabbed me by the back of the neck, and as he applied a firm grip I winced and let out a startled grunt.
