Varsity Low

You make me run like I never run

Try like I've never tried

Fight like I've never fought

Made me want it

Who said it's easy, to be loved

When you look over your shoulder and only see the wasteland?

Just got to carry what you can

Have the heart of a giant, but know you're a man

Roo Panes ---- Little Giant

*******

I stuck a fork into a plate of something that was supposed to be pasta prima vera. Gluey overcooked pasta, limpid gray veggies, all in a sauce that seemed to be melted margarine. Anders sat across from me, shoveling in a plate of something that looked like burger chunks with pasta spirals in red sauce. He was always hungry, and needed to keep his weight up for wrestling, so he did not seem offended by even the most marginal offerings in the dining halls.

The girl with the green hair laughed insanely at a nearby table. Anders and I usually ate our dinner late-ish to avoid the bedlam the halls could be layered in, but the girl with the green hair and manic laugh seemed to follow me everywhere.

"We should get out of here" I said to Anders.

"Yeah, we can take these cake slices up to my room, eat them and fuck." he replied.

"Mmmm. Sounds real nice, but I mean a road trip. Not too far, not too long, not too complicated. Just put our shit down and bail for a few days. Dewey Beach on the Delaware shore. It is still way off season, there is a cool vintage motel there, right on the beach." I mused out loud.

"Awesome. I have never seen the ocean, any ocean." he replied. Only the green oceans of lucrative soybeans and tall corn back home in Indiana.

I laughed. "Fuck around! Really? Seriously? Now we have to go. I am honor bound to take your beach cherry. Beach virgin no longer."

He sat back, looked at me wide-eyed with raised brows. "I am all the way in. Motel room Travis...just the right kind of slutty."

I laughed, "yeah, there will be plenty of motel hanky-pank...big bed in our own room. Day after tomorrow; I need to make some calls, get some good weed from Grif, and finish my paper on Updike for professor resting bitch face in Modern American Greats. You?"

"Yeah, that all works. I will have to miss practice....I can tell coach we are going to the shore for a couple days."

"Sweet. Coach likes you." I had attended a practice and met coach, who was youngish and cool and clearly cared about Anders, and saw intuitively that I did as well.

He grinned, "OK then, let operation Motel Room Travis begin! Can I still eat all this cake?"

"Yeah, eat your cake werewolf boy, but you gotta share with me." Dueling forks demolished two slices of decent red velvet cake.

"Fuck. We cannot get out of here fast enough. I overheard green hair chick misquote Dorothy Parker in the coffee line this morning, and I thought I would go full Columbine."

Anders grunted, forking up the last of our cake.

<<< >>>

A day later we hit the road. Anders was an excellent driver; calm, competent and focused, even in the savage and pointlessly mean traffic on the DC Beltway. We sped east on Route 50 towards Annapolis. He loved driving the GTI, but wanted me to drive us over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge so he could see the bridge and bay as a passenger.

At Annapolis, we got off 50 at Sandy Point State Park, which had amazing views of the Bay Bridge from the shoreline. The day was sunny and mild, and the same was forecast for the next day. Good weather Karma for an off season shore trip. I found the spot on the shoreline with the best views of the bridge and water. We parked and found just the right bench for enjoying the spot.

"Amazing. How did you know about this place?" he asked, with open delight.

"I've been here before with my dad. I thought you would like it."

"Fuck yeah, baby, you nailed it!" he landed a fast kiss on my cheek and capered to the shoreline, taking pictures for Lydia and Sam, his grandparents back in Indiana. He insisted on us doing a two-headed selfie with the bridge in the background, which came out pretty good.

Back at the bench, we looked at the pics. "Send me the two headed selfie, please. It came out real nice." I asked. We stretched and lazed in the warmish sun.

I sighed. "I need to tell you something. I hooked up with Caleb last week at the pool. We got high in his truck and I sucked him off."

He looked at me, eyebrows raised, "Caleb? The groundsman with the ponytail? Hot. Good for you, Trav. You and Grif played with him, so I suppose he would come around again."

"Are you jealous?" I asked, putting it all on the table. Be so very cool.

"Yeah, a 'lil bit. But, Trav, you're a hot guy and other hot guys are going to run their game on you, just like I did. I don't want you to miss any opportunities on my account. I am not a porcelain butterfly you need to keep cosseted in bubble wrap just 'cuz of my family tragedy. I am glad you told me about Caleb; you can always tell me shit. It is all cool."

"Fuck around, you are the best." I took his hand.

"So, you and Grif did Caleb at Grif's place a while back" he asked.

"Yeah, it was pretty hot. That's how Caleb knew I was game when he found me at the pool." I sighed.

"You think all four of us could play at Grif's sometime?"

I laughed. "Why you little jock boy horn dog! You just wanna get some hot Caleb action too! Just be sure that is what you want, 'cuz soon as I ask Griff he will make it happen with his tentacles of networked Grif magic. You sure?"

"Yep. Let's do it." he gave me his lusty butt pirate grin.

"OK. Cool. Caleb will like you. I'll ask Grif when we get back to campus. This trip is just for us, and I don't want him texting me every five minutes." I offered.

Anders laughed, rolling his eyes, "Yeah, Grif can be...a lot. OK, let's go cross this big fuckin' bridge!"

Soon we were cresting the bridge, windows down, sunroof open, Anders grooving on the towers towering above us, and the somewhat terrifying height above the water. Some bridge newbies freaked out on the Bay Bridge, but Anders was fearless. "Fuck me! I mean you don't realize how big it is until you are riding up high across it." he said as we got to the other side. I had to smile, caught up in his boyish sense of adventure.

I had him drive again, and we got off of Route 50 and made our way thru the web of smaller roads and charming villages towards the shore. Outside of Rehoboth we stopped at Chipotle, loaded up on steak bowls and got some fat burritos for later at the motel.

We parked in the small lot at Quinns Oceanfront Motel, and it was exactly as I remembered it; low slung, rooms opening to upper and lower communal porches. I had splurged on a double upper floor kitchenette, ocean view, 'cuz I knew Anders would like it.

He was now wriggling like a big happy puppy, so eager to get down to the shore, so we headed over the dune walk. "Whoa. Take our sneakers off here, tie the laces together." I said before we got into the deep soft sand on the other side of the dunes. I carried his sneakers, setting him free to go joyously whooping and bounding towards the surf.

We stopped at the surf line so he could take in the crashing Atlantic waves and the cold packed sand. I put my arm over his shoulders, "This is it, babe. Atlantic Ocean, edge of the continent." We took several laughing runs at the water, attacking, retreating, getting our feet and legs wet in spite of the coldness of the water. He dipped in a hand, and licked the salty ocean water off of his fingers with his broad pink tongue.

"Mmmmm." he smiled.

"C'mon Poseiden, let's get checked in before they tow the car." I took him by the shoulders and marched him towards the dunes. At the other side of the dune walk we perched on a bench and I showed him how to clear the sand off his feet by rubbing his soles together before we put sneaks back on. "Yeah, just like that. No sand in sneakers; no sand in the room; no sand in the bed; no sand in the car."

In the motel office we were greeted by a friendly older woman named Marge. Iron gray ponytail, and a big sweatshirt that read 'Grandmothers Rule'.

"Are you the VW out back?" she asked.

"Yeah, sorry for not checking in right away. My friend Anders here has never been to the ocean before, and we had to run down to the shore before he swallowed his tongue from the sheer excitement of it all. Reservation under Ravenel. Travis Anson Ravenel. Anders grinned and looked down, suddenly bashful.

Marge smiled at us. "Golly, a beach newbie. I'll see if I can find you boys some bikes for a beach ride. Mmmm...yes.I have you upstairs in our best ocean front deluxe kitchenette. You'll have the whole place to yourselves; no other guests until after you check out. Any relation to Jasper Ravenel?" she asked.

"Yes, indeed, Jasper is my father. We used to come here when I was a kid. He remarried; lives in Richmond. My stepmother prefers Kiawah Island to the Delaware shore, but I remember Quinns Motel fondly."

Marge gave a rueful look over her half-eyes, "Good to have you back with us Travis. You boys should have some nice weather."

"Great, we hope so. Please call me 'Trav'. The bikes for a beach ride would be awesome." I handed her my black Centurion AMEX card, which earned me another rueful glance over the half-eyes.

Anders piped up, "Where do you get all those great rocking chairs out on the porches?"

Marge smiled at him, "My nephew works at the Cracker Barrel out on highway 1. He buys them with his discount and assembles them for me."

Anders and I turned towards each other and exclaimed "Cracker Barrel French Toast!'

The three of us laughed.

"Well then, I guess you boys now have your breakfast plans. I'll put my coffee on early down here in the office with some big 'Go' cups to get you started. Cafe Bustello; it is all I ever brew."

"Perfect! I like Cafe Bustello. I'll be down early. We brought some Chipotle for tonight. I was thinking dinner at 1899 up in ReHo tomorrow. Are they open off season?"

"Yes they are, and still excellent. Kinda' pricey, though. Just sayin'."

"Great. Cool. I'll make reservations." I said.

"Capture my cell number and text me if you need anything. I am not in the office all day in off season." We loaded numbers into phones.

'OK, cool, thanks Marge! We are gonna get settled in." I said.

"Very good. Welcome to Quinns and have a good evening!" she said warmly.

We got our stuff out of the car and carted it up to the room, which was just as I remembered; knotty pine paneling, Formica kitchenette, pink and black tiled bathroom, fuzzy chenille bedspreads. A total time warp, but in an excellent beach vintage way. "This place is totally cool." Anders enthused, "Makes me think of that of that classic song 'Old Cape Cod'." Damn. I knew he would totally get the vibe of this place.

I brought two sixers of Corona and some limes, I put four of the bottles in the freezer for a fast cool down, while Anders washed and sliced the limes and unpacked the Chipotle burritos. Shoulder to shoulder in the kitchenette, tasking in comfortable silence, a frisson of easy going domesticity enveloped us.

I kicked back on one of the beds, Anders snuggled in close, his noble leonine head on my shoulder. His legs were muscular, thick, and heavily furred, and I had to touch them with my fingertips. He took my hand and put it on his crotch, where his 7" of girthy uncut jock dick was fully aroused. We felt each other up over our shorts and kissed; slow, insistent, horny.

"Service me with your hot pussy boy suck mouth." he said low and even. His shorts and sweatshirt came off, and he kicked back against the headboard, thick furry legs spread, ready for his blow job. I got between his legs, met his male gaze with mine, and went down to lick his big fuzzy balls. while lightly stroking his uncut girth with one hand.

I took him in my mouth, slow, lite, wet, working the foreskin over his blunt glans with spit and tongue. "Unnnnh! Yeah!" I went balls deep and held there. "Yeah, Trav! Be my hot motel room suck boy!" I stroked deep and slow, gave some tongue work to the underside of his awesome shaft, enjoying the simple hard mass and volume of his maleness. With a slow southern suck style I edged him, put him in a sex trance of my making.

Now he had both hands on my head, my tight blond buzzcut triggering his dominance, he forced me all the way down and held me deep on his dick. "Fuck yeah, Trav! You like that shit? You go deep for Caleb and take his hot jizz? You fucking suck boy slut!" He held my head still and thrust upward, like my mouth was a Fleshlight for his male relief. "Unnnh! Unnnh! FUUUCK!" he unloaded in my mouth, a tsunami of cum, I gulped to keep up, some of it sliding back down his thick shaft.

I stayed on his dick, letting him savor the last of his blow job. Then I licked and slurped up the jizz that had escaped my mouth on his balls and in his thick never-trimmed jock bush, enjoying his taste and clean young male aroma. He was grinning down at me as I wiped my mouth on the back of my fist. "Motel room Travis got skills. That was epic."

"It was. You are a total horn dog and should be arrested for being such a wicked hot stud. You think those Coronas are cold by now?'

"Sure. Bring me one, Trav." he asked. "Please."

I opened two of the Coronas, stuffed in lime wedges, and licked lime juice from my fingers. We clinked the necks of our bottles together. "So just how does motel room Anders plan on getting me off, after having been so thoroughly sucked off by moi?" I asked.

"Anything you want, Trav. Say the words out loud and I am on it." he laughed. "But you have to kiss me right now. I wanna taste the lime juice on your lips."

I complied. "Nice! I think I want a lubed handie to completion while you rim my butt hole with your meaty pink tongue. You stay tongue to slot while I cum."

"Ok! Never a problem to bury my face in your sweet little swimmer ass," he laughed.

I found lube and a hand towel while lay on his back on the bed, head at one edge. I tossed off shorts, boxers, shirt, and straddled his face, hovering my balls over his mouth. My view was his front side naked. from shoulders down. He scooped up some lube and slowly greased up my dick, spreading Vaseline from balls to glans, while flicking my scrot with the tip of his broad pink tongue.

He took some lube with his free hand and greased up his own mostly hard dick, giving me a beat off show while I was getting pleasured. I shifted. giving him access to my 'taint. He huffed my crotch scent; "mmmmfffH".

I shifted again and he started licking my butt hole, broad full licks, then just the tip, and back again. His hands sped up working both our cocks; a stream of precum went from my lube shiny dickhead onto the beefy mounds of furry pecs. "Unh fuck!" I moaned. He sped up his hand work, the lube making that greased up masturbation sound. I leaned forward slightly and I grabbed his thick muscled pecs with both hands. He had curled his tongue into a meat tube and was tongue fucking my asshole with it.

"I'm close, baby!" He started to shoot before I did, the jizz spuming onto his hairy belly, then I shot...."unnnnnHHH, FUCK!". watching his big male hand on my blond 7.5" cut dick, my nut flying onto his hairy torso and his hand still working his own girthy uncut 7", big fuzzy balls fully scrunched up in an ample knot of his virility.

I stayed put, letting us both return form our cum-frenzied horn dog headspace. He was covered with cum, his and mine, like the final scene in a naughty frat boy bukkake porno. I moved off his face. "OK, then. That was fucking wicked-hot." I said.

"Damn Trav, I guess you liked that. I will add it to our roster." he laughed.

"Fuck yeah. Permanent roster. You were sure into it."

"Yeah, that little ass of yours makes me crazy. Shower?"

We soaped and scrubbed each other in the steam and hissing hot spray, and it felt so good to have his big hands on me and to see his wet furr as he let me wash him. We toweled each other off, his longish hair still a tangle of damp tendrils, wrapping our nether regions in white towels, no hurry to dress. No place we needed to be; no one expecting us.

I opened two more Coronas, cut one of the burritos in half and carefully heated it up in the microwave. Still wearing only towels, we ate at the little table in comfortable silence, wolfing the burrito and the beers. Finished with food, I got out two more beers.

"You wanna get high?" I asked.

"Sure, if we smoke it out on the porch; I don't wanna stink up our room or disrespect Marge's hospitality." Whoa. His mid-western manners and thoughtfulness shown thru, yet again.

We put on Levi's and fleeces, as it was colder after dark. I blazed the spliff and we did four hits each before heading back in. Snuggled up on the bed he said "This is so great. Being holed up here with you, finally with a bed big enough for some serious cuddling."

"Mmm. It is. Gonna snuggle with my hot furry werewolf boy." I grazed the TV with the sound low, and found "Mildred Pierce" just starting on the movie channel. It was the perfect film to watch stoned; Joan Crawford's extreme shoulder pads, fearsome eyebrows, and wild-eyed overwrought camp had us shouting with stoned laughter. "Vida! VEEEEDAH!" we shouted at each other, mocking the film and Mildred's monster of a bitch daughter.

Beers and film finished, it was time to bed down. I found an extra blanket on a closet shelf, and we got naked and slipped between the sheets together. He put himself in position to get spooned, and I scooped him up, held him tight. We were both asleep fast.

Later, I was awakened by his wild thrashing and shouting. WTF, he was having a nightmare, a bad one. I shook him by the shoulders, "Anders! Wake up! Anders! Dude!" He woke up, hair tangled with sweat, wild looking, not recognizing me. "ANDERS! It's me, Travis! You're safe, we are in a motel room at the beach!" I shook him some more, wanting to hide my panic so as not to fuel his. I got two Altoids and put them on his tongue, hoping the strong taste would help fetch him back to me.

"Whoa, Travis, sorry! That was bad."

I held him close, shocked at how sweaty he was. "OK, OK, you're safe. Just breathe. Chill out. It was just a bad nightmare." He relaxed more, and I brought him a bottle of water and turned on the TV without the sound, more benign distraction to distance him from whatever demons were in his dream.

"Sorry, Trav. I don't know...I don't know...I don't know what happens."

"Shhhh. You are OK, you are with me. Nothing can hurt you here." I spooned him up close and tight, wanting him to relax and drift off again. He was asleep before I was, but I was right behind.

Dawn's early light came in around the draperies, and I slipped quietly out of bed where Anders was still sleeping. I pulled on some clothes and headed down to the office for coffee. The 'go' cups were there, pot freshly brewed, no sign of Marge. I poured our go cups, barely lightened with skim milk, and gulped from mine, adding some more from the pot. Fuckin' good Cafe Bustello coffee; I knew she would brew it strong. Two bikes were leaned against the railing outside the door, kinda' beat up, but with fat freshly inflated tires, ready for our beach ride. The morning was mild and still and I could smell and hear the ocean.

Back upstairs, Anders was still asleep. I drew back the draperies, letting the morning light fill the room, and he came to. "Mornin' sleepy head. Marge brewed us coffee; I brought you a cup."

"Thanks Trav." he took the cup blew on it, and sipped, then slurped, eyebrows raised. "Mmmmm...fuck yeah. Blessings on Marge."

"Yeah, great coffee. She came thru with the bikes too. We can beach ride after breakfast."

"Very cool" he said. "Marge is so cool." I was not going to bring up the nightmare unless he did. Why taint the day unless he wanted to talk about it?