Varsity Low

Saturday I'm running

wild

All the lights are changing

red to green

Let go of your heart,

let go of your head

And feel it now...

...Babylon

David Gray ---- Babylon

*******

I had taken to swimming laps late, in the hour or so before the pool closed, when there were few other swimmers. An easy fifty, mostly back and breaststroke, just to clear my head. I loved swimming; letting the water hold me up instead of gravity holding me down. It was such a clean sport; no sweat, not much gear to cart around, no mountains of jock-stinkin' dirty laundry.

The new campus Aquatic Center, or 'natatorium' as my charmingly old school father so charmingly called it, was a seriously fearsome display of alumni money. Lavish tile work and a careful mix of LED and natural light made the swim space appealing day or night. Water and air were always the right temp. The locker rooms were shared with the central gym and field house. In short, the library, this pool, Old Quad, and Ander's dorm room were pretty much my sacred spaces on campus.

The lanes were empty, the water smooth as a plain of turquoise glass. Perfect. "Hey Trav!" Lifeguard Heather greeted me, one of the tall blond swim team chicks, always at the pool. "You have the water all to yourself tonight. Pick a lane, any lane. Anders not with you?"

"Not tonight; I think he is studying" Casual. Cool. I had started coaxing Anders to the pool to swim with me, wanting to share my aquatic joy, get him out of his head, all without any apparent agenda.

"I've watched you coach him on Butterfly. He is freakin' made for the fly with those shoulders and upper body" she offered.

"Mmm. Yeah, we are workin' on it. His kick is not synched up with his stroke. He is more relaxed in the water than when we started." I shared.

"It's all good. Just keep him swimming. Enjoy your laps."

"Will do." We nodded, and I headed over to the far lane. I wore a longish pair of TYR swim jammers and good TYR googles. I did not like Speedos, as even the slightest bit of wood made me self conscious of my package. I had one pair of Speedos that I wore only for Anders, when he wanted to play "swim team". A bit of harmless kink which involved him tugging the briefs down with his teeth and then fucking me like a wild furry beast in high rut. Given his gruesome family tragedy and resulting PTSD, I eagerly facilitated whatever moments of joy I could give him, even if those moments were just some goofy sex play, a good steakhouse dinner, or a big package of Keebler Pecan Sandies.

I was forty-five laps in when I noticed a swimmer had taken the lane right next to mine, pounding water with an aggressive, splashy, noisy crawl. I rested at the wall wanting to see this asshole who was pointedly disturbing my smooth, elegant, and rather decent backstroke. A handsome male head popped up from the churning waters, long hair up in a messy man bun. Caleb, of course.

"Hey, Trav!" Dark scruff and eyes, thick coarse chest fur, alarmingly naughty grin of good white teeth. Fuck around. I was road kill. The green birds of lust were freaking out in my belly. Damn. Hot guys in their thirties and forties could still get me feeling coltish and wild. The three way in which Griff and I had serviced Caleb at Griff's off campus flat was leaping joyously thru my mind.

"Caleb! What have you been up to?" I asked. Cool, cool, be cool.

"Mostly workin' a lot. Late winter early spring are busy season for the grounds crew. I come here, work out, and catch a swim to cool off." Dark eyes locked on mine, I returned my own unblinking blue eyed male gaze.

"Cool. Old Quad is my fave place on campus. Your team does a nice job keeping that up." I said.

"Thanks. The mature plantings take some soulful care." He said. I was touched to realize that he was passionate about his grounds work, and not just another redneck dumb ass on a John Deere lawn tractor sweating out a bad hangover.

"Sweet." I gave him my best smile, hoping to win the hearts and minds. "Your ink is fucking awesome. Show me." He reared up on the pool wall, sharing his Celtic sleeve on his left arm, advancing up the meaty tri-cep towards brown freckled shoulder. "Very fine. Art. I like the canvas too." He looked at me, the certainty of his sexual confidence pinning me down.

"No ink for you, huh Trav? Not cool at the country club? It would make mother and father nervous about the company you keep and how their money is spent? Nope, Trav keeps himself clean and fresh and pink, an ink virgin lusting after inky guys like me" he laughed.

"Ahhhh...something like that." I managed to say, slightly alarmed by the apparent way he saw me. Eat the rich.

He moved closer to the lane rope. "Finish your laps, get dressed, meet me out front. We can get kinda' high in my truck, I'll let you suck me off, drive you back to your dorm or wherever." He said evenly, the agenda not in question. OK, then, who said romance was dead?

"Yeah, Cool." Fuck all the way around, I was invested without really even thinking about it, letting my cock run things as usual.

He undid the small band holding the man bun together and dropped below the surface of the water, then sprang up shaking water from his long thick chestnut hair, spraying me in the face. He gave me a slutty wink, then vaulted himself up onto the pool deck in one smooth effortless motion, gallons of water dropping to the deck. He wore square cut black swim boxers, mesh liner, which now cupped both his ample maleness and ass. Reaching down, with both hands he pulled the trunks and liner forward to free his package, then reached back to free his ass from the wet cling of trunks and liner. Time stopped. He then padded across the pool deck on his high arched feet, towards the locker room doors.

I got back to my last five laps, same measured pace as earlier, not wanting Lifeguard Heather to pick up on just how eager I was to chase down the hotness of Caleb after our rather obvious interface while hanging on the pool wall. In the locker room, I ran thru the shower and dressed quickly, not quite fully dry.

Out the front doors, and there he was. Work boots, Levi's, the sexy 'Caleb' work shirt open far enough down to give me a 'V' of his dark forest of chest hair, scruffy old hoodie, chestnut mane back in his sleek ponytail. I felt like I was twelve, and in the presence of whatever blue collar manliness stepmomster Vera had engaged to clean the gutters or service all four garage door openers.

"That was fast. You ready?" he smirked.

"Hell yeah. Let's go."

We crossed the lot to his vintage Ford F-150 pickup, bit of fender rust, not flawless yet immaculate and authentic. Big wide bench seat in the cab, shift on the column. The truck started with a low growly rumble, the sound engines with carburetors make. "Nice truck. Mmmm...1973?" He looked at me with raised eyebrows and a new respect.

"Yeah, how did you know? It was my uncle's."

"I like old trucks. I know a few things they don't teach here in this pre-adult day-care."

He laughed. We turned onto a gravel service road that lead thru some woods, ending at a cluster of sheds and large garages. There were were fragrant mounds of wood chips, mulch, stone dust and gravel. He spun the truck slowly, and backed carefully up to the main overhead doors, giving a clear view back up the service road in case anyone came in behind us. He shut off the engine, and found half a spliff in a cheap clip in the ashtray. His lighter was one of those vintage steel cased ones that opened and closed with a satisfyingly solid metallic 'clunk' like in the movies. "James Dean called. He wants his lighter back." I clowned.

Caleb laughed. "Don't be an asshole."

He torched the spliff and took a huge hit. I did a hit just as big, showing him I was not some silly undergrad poser. We did about three-four hits, and I was fully baked, Duncan Hines style. He put the clip back in the ashtray.

"You wanna suck some dick?" he asked.

"Hell yeah stud. Whip it out for me!" He sprawled sideways on the truck's big bench seat, back to the drivers side door, shoved jeans/boxers/belt down around his knees. The smooth 8" uncut I remembered from Griff's sprang free, horned, eager for service, dickhead wet with precum, just peeking out of his long hanging foreskin. I knelt in the foot well for better access, and huffed his ample balls and natural furry crotch. He smelled like the pool, but with undertones of grown man. Earth. Stone, Rust. Heaven.

I flicked his full balls with the tip of my tongue and his cock jumped at the contact, more so as I started to lick. He grunted softly, "Fuckin' Trav! Be my boy!" I took his shaft in one hand, still tongue to balls and gently worked the foreskin over his blunt wet dickhead..."unnnnnH". Off the scrot, I went down, slow, lite touch, easy southern style, all the time in the world to pleasure this hot stud with my mouth. I worked the tip of my tongue between foreskin and glans, which earned me his full erection. "Damn! Yeah! Do like that!" he hissed.

I went deep, all the way down, curled my tongue around the shaft, worked the tongue while staying balls deep....."PFFFfffff unnnHH!" I edged him a couple times, slow to fast and back again, putting him in a sex trance, empowered over his orgasm, making him mine. I worked a hand under his lean muscled ass, feeling him clench and un-clench as I gave him my hot wet suck.

I went for the close, fast and hard, guessing that was probably how he worked his hand during masturbation. He put both big work-roughened hands on my head, grooving on my tight blond buzzcut, gentle, boyish. I touched his balls, he held my head still, about half down, and unloaded..."fuck, fuck, fuck, unnnnnnHHH!" I gulped hard and fast, taking his huge jizz load like a pro. He slowed, I stayed on, lovingly sucking, letting him enjoy all of his blow job,

I pulled back. He had opened his Caleb shirt all the way, letting me enjoy the view of wild chest fur, and raggedy treasure trail over the start of a small, but adorable, gut. "daaaaamn, Trav, that was just....great!"

"Yeah. It was. Glad you liked it." He found some paper napkins from Little River Pizza, out by the Interstate, a total townie place with excellent pizza. Holding my jaw in one hand he gently wiped my mouth with the wad of napkins.

"There we go. Clean you up. Can't have you going back to dorms with white trash jizz all over your mouth."

"You are so NOT white trash, Caleb. I see you." He laughed and wiped up his dick with the napkins he had just used on my mouth.

He fished a box of Marlboro Reds off the dash, put two cigarettes in his lips, lit them both with his studly James Dean lighter, took one and put it to my lips. Where the actual fuck did he learn a move like that? I was not much of a smoker; however. the butts were excellent after being such an epic boy slut..

We sat and smoked in silence. Getting no recip head to completion from college boys was pretty much the sum total of his agenda. I could see him at 45, the dark scruff getting grayer, still working his sexual ambiguity and studied blue collar hottness to run down the blowjobs from future boys like me and Griff. Meanwhile, he planted trees, mulched boxwood, worked with his hands in the open air. It was all OK, meant to be, he was who he was. He got older but his college suck boys all stayed the same age. Cool, cool, it was all cool.

"We should trade numbers" he said.

"Sure. Cool" phones came out numbers were entered, casual expectations implied but not assured.

"Griff smokes too much weed. If the baseball team starts random drug testing, he is fucked, and not in the way that he likes. Shame if he got dumped, 'cuz he can field, he can hit, he can run, and the younger guys hero worship him all damn day. I know you guys are...close." He looked at me. "I played some ball in HS, so I follow the team. They aren't very good, but still." He smiled.

I sat up, and asked "Do you know something? Will it happen?"

"Mmm. Just a vibe at this point. I will give you boys a heads up if I find out anything

for sure. Meanwhile, maybe you could talk to him."

"I can try. Griff does pretty much as he pleases. You know that."

He laughed, "I do know that. Griff is cool. Drive you back to your dorm?"

"Yeah, thanks, I am in Rock Lodge, the apartment pods by the big ravine." The truck crunched slowly down the gravel service road and up to Rock Lodge. I found my gym bag and jacket.

"Thanks Trav. That was wicked fun." he said.

"Anytime, Caleb. Thanks for heads up on the Griff situation." I got out of his truck, and sat on the front steps. It was getting late, but I texted Griff:

ME: hey, I hooked up with Caleb at the pool. got high and sucked him off in his truck

GRIFF: holy shit. hot. wish I could have watched. good for you.

ME: I feel kinda' slutty

GRIFF: don't. u r a hot horny college boy doing what hot horny college boys do

ME: ok

GRIFF: all is well, Little Spoon! Caleb grooves on your serene blond hotness; feel good about it! we are gathering experience and carnal knowledge, remember?

ME: should I tell Anders?

GRIFF: yes, ASAP, in person, head off gossip, if any

ME: will do, thx, u r the best. GN

GRIFF: lol, GN

Carnal knowledge. What the actual fuck. I was tired, I smelled like weed and Marlboro Reds, and I wanted to beat off while the taste of Caleb was still in my mouth.