Stefan

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Football star lusts after tennis star and gets him.
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perihelion
perihelion
1,342 Followers

I always preferred the company of boys and never liked to play with girls, even as a child. I have two older brothers and everything in my home was all about three boys. It was a life of sports and typical guy stuff like hunting and fishing, climbing trees, and the things that make a macho father's chest swell with pride. I never really thought much about it but somehow in those defining and fumbling teenage years I realized that I was never going to be interested in girls the way my older brothers were, the way most of the other guys I knew were. It was an earth shattering thing for me and I lived in total denial until my sophomore year in college.

There was a very important reason why I masturbated to fantasies that I'd then feel guilty and ashamed about afterward. Talk about being repressed, I grew up in a Christian home where I was expected to conform to set principles of behavior, principles that stifled me. I willingly disavowed the very core of my being in shame and fear of being exposed. Everyone was always talking about their personal relationship with God and how they could feel his presence with them, could pray and he always gave them the answer. It never happened for me and I felt like I just didn't belong, that maybe I was not good enough for God to acknowledge. Of course I kept such thoughts to myself and played the game. To everyone around me I was the all American boy, the one girl's fantasize about.

My father was the Reverend Paul Chrichton, pastor of the local Methodist church and a gay son was totally out of the question. The church sermons on the evils of homosexuality made an indelible impression on me and I felt like a hell bound pervert. Boys like girls, girls like boys, and it's against God's teachings to lay with the same sex. Most of the time I felt like hell was about to open up and swallow me, particularly after some homosexual incident made the news and there was a renewed Christian fervor, warnings about the mark of the beast, and then there was my unending fear of shaming my family and my church.

There was clear evidence for all to see what happened to you if everyone thought or knew you were a homosexual. Beginning in kindergarten at age five, I saw how sissies were treated and the last thing I ever wanted to be was a sissy. Two sissies were in my classes from kindergarten to graduation and I probably over compensated and became the most macho male child in our school because of them. I guess you could say that I owe them for outwardly becoming the man that fathers want their beloved daughters to marry. I avoided anything feminine, anything that could possibly out me but I didn't have to pretend I don't like girly things. I don't and never have. I'm not that kind of gay man.

I have a definite respect for effeminate males and I've never been one to make fun of them. An effeminate male must be one of the toughest people on this earth and the hell they experience almost every day would be intolerable for me, probably for most. I never wanted to play with dolls like Victor Lashley and Brendan Doylett. Victor became a hairdresser and Brendan eventually became a kick ass brilliant attorney for the American Civil Liberties Union, a total bastard that you'd really rather have on your side than as your enemy. But growing up I avoided Victor and Brendan like the plague, afraid that somehow everyone might see the secret hidden inside me, a secret that I tried to hide from myself.

I was the school math whiz, an overall good student, and a first class athlete; just like my older brothers and my father before me. I dated different girls during high school but I never initiated any sexual behavior and rejected any overtures. I overdid it a bit with being the virtuous son of a minister bit, particularly since I know most preacher's kids are like demons from hell. So I was a virgin when I graduated and other students may have snickered behind my back but never to my face. Our small community projected the facade of an almost Disney World perfection because of the strong religious leadership that controlled it and that worked in my favor.

I managed to be the valedictorian of my high school graduation class and received both academic and football scholarships. I participated all school sports and loved football, loved the physical contact, and played well in any position. I was quarterback during my senior year and I carried our team through an undefeated season. The coach said that's what sealed the deal with my football scholarship. Football may have gotten me a scholarship but I loved most sports and had a particular love of tennis, another sport in which I excelled.

My scholarships were to the university where my father and grandfather graduated and they were thrilled. My university was on the opposite coast from my hometown and my two older brothers had gotten full scholarships to other colleges closer to home. Each of them married a longtime girlfriend right after graduating from high school. We never talked about it but my oldest brother Bob had married a week after graduation because his girlfriend Charlene was four months pregnant. My father actually had the balls to insist that their daughter was born prematurely.

I enrolled studying mathematics and computer engineering and for the first time I felt totally free, not that I went wild or acted upon my true sexual desires right away. Within two games I was a star wide receiver on the university football team and there seemed to be an endless supply of girls to date as a cover, girls who hung around with the football team like female mascots. The first year was a cake walk for me; I pledged Delta Sigma Phi, the fraternity of my father and grandfather; and I was a dean's list student.

Before leaving home I had serious fears about making a fool of myself by lusting after my unknown roommate, fears that were quickly washed away. I was fortunate to have a roommate who had zero sex appeal to anyone. His name was Hiram and he was a nice guy but he was revolting with a long list of issues that guarantee rejection as a candidate for sexual interest from either sex. He invented a new definition for the word nerd but I will concede in his defense that he was totally color blind. He couldn't drive a car because he couldn't tell the difference between the changing stop lights. He always wore white shirts, black pants, black socks, and the same style black shoes to avoid mismatching colors. He had an absurd hyena laugh that made you want to kill him after about twenty minutes listening to it. Oh, and he was five feet four inches tall and weighed two hundred and seventy pounds. I was amazed to see him walk and move around. He looked like a walking marshmallow blob of flesh and for the first time I felt that maybe God was looking out for me by sending me Hiram.

It wasn't hard to lose my virginity during the spring semester of my freshman year and I planned it out carefully like some sort of math problem, including condoms as if they balanced the equation. Peggy was a girl known to fuck around and with an overwhelming desire to fuck every guy on the football team. When my time rolled around I was ready. It was great, far more than I'd expected and when I saw her the next day she acted as if nothing had ever happened. Yep. The perfect girl to lose your virginity to and the perfect girl to use as a cover. To my teammates I was one of the guys.

Even though I was known for football, tennis was the game I played to relax, a game I actually loved more than football. That's really not that unusual. Most football players I know like to play other non-contact sports like golf or tennis just for fun. There were several really good tennis players on the university tennis team, some of whom I enjoyed matches with and they considered me to be a challenging opponent. I didn't realize that my weekly tennis games were being watched by people who had a real interest in my tennis skills.

One day three weeks before the end of the fall semester of my junior year the head tennis coach summoned me to his office and literally begged me to join the tennis team. Most of the best members of the tennis team had graduated the previous June and September had not added any new talents. Coach Nickerson was sweating and under pressure. Administration and alumni don't want excuses and he only had one star player, Stefan Lindstrom. We didn't make the football playoffs that year so with the end of the fall semester the football season was over for me. After a quick discussion between the athletic department coaches suddenly I was on the tennis team for the Spring Semester with the understanding that in the fall I'd be back on the football team.

I agreed to join for two reasons. One, I loved tennis and two, Stefan Lindstrom was my sexual fantasy. I thought he was perfection itself and had often watched him play although I'd never actually met him or spoken to him. He was the university golden boy, very involved with campus activities and student government. I'd worshipped him from afar, so to speak, afraid if I got too near him he'd see right through me and know how I felt about him. So we never actually met each other and that was okay with me, apparently okay with him, too.

When I joined the team Coach Nickerson told me that he'd made Stefan my practice partner. I was stunned and pleased at the same time. He told me that based upon what he'd observed of my court performance he thought Stefan and I were going to be a challenge for each other. I wasn't sure how much of that was flattery and how much was truth. Maybe he was trying boost my confidence but what he didn't know was that I thought I could match him shot for shot. The only problem would be if I spent more time looking at Stefan than the tennis ball. Then there was the problem of Stefan realizing I lusted after his body and the ensuing disaster that would follow.

Coach Nickerson told the team that Stefan would arrive a week late because he'd had to go back to Sweden to attend his grandfather's funeral. I had figured the other team members would resent me for joining the team and being made Stefan's partner but I needn't have worried. They'd all been up against him and he'd shot all of them down, so aggressively that most of them didn't even want to practice with him. Not only did it seem that none of them wanted to play him, none of them even wanted to be his partner in doubles competitions. I discovered Stefan was an aggressive player that liked to massacre opponents and was known for unbearable arrogance on the court. The other team members had taken bets to see how many days I'd last with Stefan before I was ready to kill him.

Stefan's off court personality was the opposite of his on court persona. The entire first week I listened to conflicting stories about the golden boy. Most of the girl's team had a love hate relationship with him caused by his fucking and then dropping almost every single one of them. Most of the guys had been tennis stars in their high schools only to be crushed by Stefan and suddenly put in jeopardy of losing their athletic scholarships. After two days I felt like the only thing that could have been worse was land mines buried on the tennis courts. It became even more apparent why Coach Nickerson was so stressed out.

By the time Stefan showed up the following Monday I was so full of tension I was a wreck. I was eating breakfast in the Student Center and he walked in like a blond god, laughing and charming everyone as he went through the serving line. That was the Stefan I knew, the guy who had been elected president of the sophomore and junior classes, the one who was the life of the party and was known as the campus stud. The guy who didn't know I existed even with my football reputation. Our eyes met briefly as we ate breakfast but he didn't acknowledge me, just moved on as if he was looking for someone else.

We didn't have a practice together until Tuesday afternoon. The grounds crew had mowed the lawn and clipped the hedges early that morning and around noon it had rained so the air still had that sweet wet smell mixed with scent of newly cut grass. As I came around the end of the hedge Stefan was sitting on a bench outside the court looking so visually stunning it was almost like he wasn't real. Photographers should have been shooting him for the cover of a magazine.

I'd masturbated twice that morning in preparation for this meeting but I still felt my cock becoming erect. This was the man of my masturbation fantasies and my cock was not going to be still for our first official meeting. I aimlessly wondered if he followed football, if he'd ever heard of me before Nickerson put us together, and again I felt the cold sweat of my fear that he might see right through my straight facade.

Stefan hadn't noticed my arrival and I watched as he swayed to the music on his iPod. His long slender fingers strummed his racquet strings like a guitar. I stood back and stared at him for a few minutes, steeling myself for his reaction to me. He crossed his long sexy legs and closed his eyes, caught up in the music. Tall, around 6'5", with light blond hair, he was the epitome of the icy cool Swede.

I knew he was a dean's list student, that he was fluent in Swedish, German, French, and English, and like me, he was majoring in mathematics and computer engineering. He was born in Stockholm and his parents moved to the United States when he was fourteen so his father could take a monster promotion with a computer firm. Even though we were in the same academic programs somehow Stefan and I had only taken two classes together, both taught in auditoriums with over a hundred students. I'd sat far behind Stefan so I could stare at him unobserved and he'd never noticed me once. Not that he would; he was always surrounded by girls who hung on his every word and movement. Even the professors were caught up in the net of his charm.

Suddenly I was shaken from lustful trance by Susan Collins walking past. She yelled hello to me and I hoped she had noticed me openly staring at Stefan. I yelled back hello back to her and Stefan opened his eyes. He saw me coming toward him and smiled that cocky grin of his.

"You're late, man! You were supposed to be here at two. I was just about to leave!"

I gave him an eat shit look. I didn't plan to start off our relationship with him walking all over me as he apparently had with all of his other teammates.

"Really?" I laughed. "Coach set it up for two thirty because he knows I've got a class that ends at two o'clock on Tuesdays and Fridays. I'm twenty minutes early. I thought I'd get here and hit a few balls before you showed up. Maybe if I had a pussy you'd have paid more attention to Nickerson."

He shot a bird at me and snorted.

"You've got a smart mouth on you, Bill. Too bad you aren't as smart on the football field. And if you had a pussy we'd be in my room fucking. We wouldn't be out here playing tennis."

I grunted. "You're awfully sure of yourself, asshole. What makes you think I'd let you fuck me? You're not my type. And, Richard, my name is Ben."

He gently tapped me on my head with the strings of his racket and burst out laughing.

"Of course I'm your type, sweetheart. You'd be on your knees sucking my dick if I'd let you. And my name is Stefan."

I pushed his racket away and stormed to the opposite end of the court. This was the usual boys joking about each other's sexuality shit but I wasn't in the mood to hear it. It cut too close to the truth and it confirmed what I'd heard about golden boy's arrogance.

"Like I said. Too sure of yourself. And I'll call you Stefan when you call me Ben."

I hit a practice ball over the net to him and to his obvious surprise he missed it.

"Okay, Ben it is. Like I said, you'll be on your knees soon enough."

I laughed. "Dream on, dick wad. Let's get this show on the road. I'm only here because Nickerson said you're off your game and you need someone to get you back on track. Looks like he's right."

Stefan grimaced, his face like a thundercloud and no longer amused.

"Okay, enough! I'm just joking around! If I've offended you in some way then I apologize. I'm sorry. Excuse me. Mea culpa. Whatever. Let's just get this fucking practice over."

I served the ball straight into him and it clearly hurt. I meant to do it but I immediately regretted it. Almost. I expected someone of his caliber to step aside and hit it back to me, particularly someone so arrogant about being a great tennis player.

"Fuck you!" he yelled.

Stefan grabbed his racket cover from the bench, ready to storm off.

"Forget it, Waldo. Fucking forget it. I'll find someone else to practice with. Tell Coach to hook you up with someone who can put up with your shit!"

I was stunned that I'd thrown him off his game so easily. He really was a temperamental cuss. Stefan was the best the university tennis team had to offer? He'd pissed me off but almost instantly I remembered he'd just buried his grandfather and this was his second day back. I felt horrible for possibly taking an unfair advantage during what must be an emotional time. I raced over to his side and touched his shoulder.

"Please. I'm sorry. Stay and practice with me. Sometimes I get a little over zealous and arrogant. It's a failing of mine. I guess it comes from being so good at everything I do."

I said this sort of tongue in cheek actually acknowledging failures that we both had, he more so than I. He knew it and he sheepishly grinned.

"So you have those faults, too, huh?"

"So I've heard," I laughed. "Of course I think the people who think that are full of shit."

We both burst out laughing at that and it was as if we connected at that point, as if we better understood each other.

"I'll take it easy with you," Stefan joked. "I might even let you win a set."

"Really? We're only playing three sets today and I don't think I'll need your help, golden boy."

"I'll tell you what. If you win all three sets I'll let you suck my dick."

"Go to hell. If I win all three sets I'll let you lick my asshole."

Suddenly the practice was on full steam with us talking trash and tearing into each other. I stared at him, wanting his body, and sometimes Stefan would have this knowing smirk on his face like he saw right through me. I was sweating, trying to hold on to my game while Stefan was as handsome as a story book prince, barely sweating and playing tennis with seemingly no real exertion. His golden blond wavy hair and the faint dusting of it on his forearms and legs would have given me a major erection if I hadn't been running my ass off.

I won the first set in a tie break but the way Stefan grinned at me it was as if he thought he'd let me win it. FUCK! I couldn't decide if I really did win it or if he let me win it.

"Hold on just a minute!" he yelled.

He made an exaggerated movement of adjusting his crotch and walked toward me at the net.

"Sorry, man. I had put my stuff back in the jock strap," he stage whispered. "Damn cock's so big it keeps slipping out when I'm running around on court."

"You wish," I laughed. "A clitoris doesn't even need a jock strap."

"When you suck it later you'll choke on it."

He grinned and bent over to re-tie his shoes with his ass in my face. He had stunning long slender legs and his ass was magnificent in his tight white tennis shorts. My eyes bored into his ass and then I saw he'd been watching my face while he was bent over. He stood up, smiling triumphantly.

"See something you like?" he laughed.

My face must have turned purple. I'd been busted and I wanted to kill him.

The next two games were crucifying. We went to deuce fourteen times in the second set and he finally won it but he was sweating hard. No more cool blond Swede. His ass was dragging and I realized that I was in better shape than him. I probably owed that to Coach Sweeney who would run the football team to the point of collapse over mistakes in a football game. If we lost a game it was living hell trying to get ready for the next game. We lost too many games that season, we hadn't made the playoffs, and I was used to living in practice hell. It had paid off and I was ready to crush Stefan.

perihelion
perihelion
1,342 Followers