Pool Surrender

Coach Hazard, the coach of my university wrestling team, who ran a program of total commitment of players to each other and him—in every way—had told all of the wrestlers that they could come over and use his swimming pool at any time. And I was so sore and strung out after the sessions where I was initiated—totally—into and by the squad that I took him up on the offer one afternoon. I was still being broken in and hadn't been given a position on the squad, and I knew there was a wrestling meet during that time and figured that Hazard and the rostered wrestlers would be busy with that and that I'd have the pool to myself.

I did, in fact, have the pool to myself for almost the first hour I was there. I laid out on a lounge and got heated up for a while and then I went into the pool and swam laps. I probably swam a good many, as I was trying to numb myself to my circumstances. I hadn't known before I went out for wrestling on Coach Hazard's team that the deal included being fucked at will by any of the regular team members and by Hazard as well until I paid my dues. But I had learned that the hard way—and I dearly wanted to be on the wrestling team, so . . .

I had been preoccupied with these thoughts as I swam my laps, trying to work the soreness out of my body from some of the sexual positions I'd been put in that morning. When I came up out of the pool and was toweling myself off, though, I noticed I no longer was alone.

Andreas, one of the more intriguing members of the wrestling team was stretched out on the other lounge, which was right beside the one I had been using. I say intriguing, because he always seemed to be missing or in the background during my team punch ordeals. I knew he was queer—or at least bi—because I had seen him having hot sex with Greg in the wrestling gym showers once, but he had never hit on me yet. Which, given the choice, was a little disappointing, because he was one of the hottest of the wrestlers. He was Greek and had the tanned Mediterranean coloring and the good bone and muscle structure and easy flowing movements of that ethnic type. He had curly black hair, a handsome face with flashing white teeth and an easy smile. The black hair repeated it's curl on his forearms and his calves, in his arm pits, and across his chest and down the front of his body, but I wouldn't necessarily say he was particularly hairy. Maybe he would turn that way in his later years. I knew from watching him and Greg going at it that he had a very nice package, and that was evident now as well with a view to his skimpy sock swim suit as he stretched out on the chaise close to where I now sat and unfolded myself and closed my eyes, trying both to pretend I was alone and not to follow up on my natural attraction to Andreas.

Silence for a while and then, "Hi, I'm Andreas. I've been told your name is Sam."

"Yes," I answered, trying to be both polite and distant.

"I'm sorry you're having such rough time at wrestling."

"Yes, well . . . Thanks." I kept it at that for a moment, but then I said, "I thought there was a serious wrestling meet today and that you'd all be at that."

"The other team couldn't muster up enough wrestlers in my weight class, so I wasn't needed."

"Oh."

"Well, as I said, I'm sorry you are being used by the wrestlers as you are. I wouldn't do that to anyone who objected."

"I'll bet no one has ever objected if you asked." Now why did I say that?

He laughed. "Well, I don't keep track, so I don't know if that's true."

"So, you don't join in . . . with the other wrestlers because you don't like sex that much?" I was pretty sure that wasn't true based on what I've seen.

"Oh no. I like sex all right. In fact, I like it just fine. I'm Greek. Really from Greece. We seem an uptight culture, but we're really pretty free with that sort of stuff underneath. The Grecco form of wrestling, for instance. What Coach Hazard has bastardized here. That's really done in the buff, and I grew up doing that. No, I've grown up getting sex freely and whenever I could get it."

"So you're what, straight, bi, gay?"

"Oh, I guess you could call me bi, but in the Mediterranean context I could still be considered straight. I was fucking girls and lonely housewives when I was fifteen. Guess I've always been able to do that when I wanted. But I'll admit that I fooled around with other wrestlers pretty early too. And when I went into the Army, it was the accepted thing to do. At first, we'd go down to the back fence in the evening when we felt the pressure and we'd get blow jobs from the queers who gathered there to feed on handsome young and fit soldiers. Then some of us would go on to having sex with each other during guard duty in remote areas, just to escape the boredom and because they did their best to keep us away from the neighborhood goods and we were heavy with testosterone. But, in those situations, as long as you were the fucker and not the fuckee, you weren't considered gay."

"Sounds like Greek boys are really randy."

"Yes. I'd fuck another boy, or a man, or a girl, or a middle-aged woman . . . or a sheep."

"God, a sheep?" That got me looking over him all bug eyed.

"No, not really," he laughed. "Some Greek boys will do that. But I've never done it. It just isn't looked at the same way in the Med as it is here—again, as long as you're the one doing the fucking. It goes back to why I told you I was sorry for what you're going through. I like the sex, but only if it's mutual. I don't like to force myself on anyone, and I've never had to do that."

"So, you haven't joined in with me because either you feel sorry for me or I repulse you."

"Oh no, neither of those. I'm mad at what they do to guys like you, and you certainly don't repulse me; quite the opposite."

Silence for a few minutes.

"And you. You don't enjoy it, do you?" Andreas asked.

Silence for a few minutes.

"Well, sometimes I do, I guess. It's increasingly getting to where sometimes it gives me pleasure as well. But it still scares me and makes me mad most of the time. Being used like that."

"So, it's not the act. It's the force and being used?"

Silence for a few minutes.

"Yeah, I guess that might be it."

"And do I . . . do I repulse you?"

A rather weak "No." And then stronger. "No. You are one of the most desirable of the wrestlers. I . . . I saw you with Greg. I am drawn to Greg, too, but he pushes at me too much for me to really enjoy it. But seeing you and Greg. I almost . . ."

"I think I like you better than I like Greg. I bet we could . . ."

Silence for a few seconds. "Yes, I think we might too."

"If I come over there, would I be forcing myself on you?"

A few seconds of silence.

"No, don't think so. I think I might like that . . . if we went slowly. I have a pretty sore ass, as you can imagine."

"And you'd take me? Let me control and do it to you? . . . In the Med sense I'm still not gay, and I don't want . . ."

"Umm, yes, I guess so," I responded.

I watched as Andreas fluidly rose from his lounge. He stood beside mine for a minute while he untied the strings to his sock suit and let it fall to the ground. I experienced a thrill and a big intake of breath, as I saw his magnificent body in complete nakedness once more. He leaned over and pulled my Speedo down and off my legs and then he stretched himself on top of me and we kissed and enjoyed the sensation of our bodies touching. Our hands in a firm grip, with arms stretching above our heads, touching all along their stretch. Our lips on lips and tongues playing with tongues; our chest and nipples rubbing; our hearts thumping in rhythm; our bellies touching, both panting a bit, our pelvises and cocks touching, entwining, increasingly grinding; our thighs rubbing; our toes touching and running up each other's thighs. Our entwining became more hurried and we writhed against each other, enjoyed our bodies chaffing against other. We turned so I was on top and then we were on our sides facing each other, and then he was on top again. We panted and moaned and sighed as our cocks engaged as swords and we dry fucked each other up our bellies or between our thighs. Neither of us was moving to take control, but we were both aggressive and submissive at the same time. We decided to release our hands almost simultaneously—neither of us would have been able to say whose idea that was—and our hands joined the exploration, heightening our sexual tension and our frenzied play.

But it was more than the exploration that was causing us to heat up. We were being fried by the sun. I, because I was the most sensitive and he was naturally tanned from life in the Mediterranean, was the first to break, declaring that I was being cooked and had to go into the pool to cool off. His dive was right behind mine, just as neat as mine, and we both stroked to the end of the pool and immediately went into another lip lock, our fingers more aggressively exploring each other under the water.

Andreas hauled me up to where I was sitting on the side of the pool, my legs in the water, and he gave me a slow, expert, complete blow job. When he finished, I lay back on the cooking tiles, oblivious to the heat, and raised my arms across my face, blocking out the sun, completely enjoying the moment. He ran his hand up my hips and waist and held them there at my sides. He still held my cock in his mouth, waiting for it to subside, not wishing to abandon it until I was soft once more.

"I thought . . ." I started to say. "Isn't what you're doing? . . ."

"Shush," he whispered. "I think you're worth going over that threshold."

I found myself calling out to him, almost in a whisper, "Fuck me, Andreas. I want you to fuck me?"

"What is that you said?" he asked in surprise.

"Fuck me. It's my choice. I can't feel liberated from all this until I've made the choice freely, myself. I want to make that choice with you. You've made a decision with me; I want to ask for it from you. Fuck me."

He rose up to me and entered me and fucked me, gently at least at first, but then passion swept us both up and the sex became very hot—but mutually satisfying. He hadn't been pumping me for long before he noticed that I was stretched out on the hot tile surrounding the swimming pool. He slowly slid me back into the swimming pool and we discovered that sex was much more interesting and whole new positions were possible when the partners are immersed in water.

We crossed the threshold together in a burst of flowing.