Dirty Little Secret Ch. 03

I made his hips buck and thrust when I wanted; I knew how to elicit deep, guttural moans from him; I was a master cocksucker and he was completely under my spell.

I gave him a blowjob he'd never forget. A blowjob he would dream about even in the most awkward of moments.

I was da Vinci and my hands, lips and tongue expertly brushed his hot flesh with my special skill.

When I finally allowed him to cum, his body flew out of control. His heavy, semen-laden balls jerked and jumped in my hand.

The force with which his first shot of cum hit the back of my throat surprised me. I concentrated hard and was able to swallow his remaining load.

Afterwards he held me tight and covered my face with kisses. Our mouths pressed together; we exchanged each other's flavor.

When his breathing returned to normal he whispered in my ear, "Johnny, I love you so much...."

And for the first time, I truly and honestly knew how I felt about Lane. I experienced a joy and warmth in my heart that had been missing from my life.

A smile formed on my lips as I said, "I love you, too, Lane -- I love you, too."

First thing Sunday morning I searched news and sports websites to see if there was any mention of Todd's interview. I was relieved when I couldn't find any. The last thing Denny needed was an unnecessary spotlight on his personal life.

I immersed myself in my studies the rest of the morning.

Lane called just as I finished eating lunch. There was an edginess to his voice.

"John, go to 'SquawkBox' and read the comments...I have to leave -- I'm late for practice -- bye -- love you."

'SquawkBox' was a university chat-room where students posted everything from complaining about lousy cafeteria food to how to cheat on your mid-terms. Most of it was inane but sometimes funny.

A cold chill ran up my spine when I saw the main topic of the day -- is a gay football player too much of a distraction to the team?

Most of the comments were positive, and supportive. Not surprising for the more liberal atmosphere of a university campus. But as I scrolled down, I read quite a few homophobic rants, as well:

"Queers shouldn't take showers with real men."

"It makes me sick when I see two guys kissing. It isn't right -- it's an abomination."

"Denny Johnson should stay in the closet where he belongs."

"I find the phrase 'Gay Pride' very disturbing. How can one be proud of aberrant and unnatural sexual behavior?"

"'Goldilocks and the Three Bears' has a whole new meaning for me now."

"If God had meant for men to be fags, He would have made it possible for us to suck our own dicks."

"WTF!!! WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?????"

"Queers are proof that God has a sense of humor."

"Gays aren't born that way. They learn that behavior from permissive parents and a liberal media."

"So Denny is really a Tight End at heart...."

"God is perfect. God doesn't make mistakes. That is all the proof needed to understand that homosexuality is a chosen perversion."

"Some men have absolutely no self-control. They'll screw anything that comes along -- women or MEN!! It's all about satisfying their unnatural lust."

"Why don't the other guys on the team beat some sense into Denny?"

"What a sad day for our university! We've become a laughing-stock!"

"Todd, don't bend over in the shower to pick up the soap!"

I felt a need to talk with Denny. If for no other reason than to let him know I was on his side.

His phone went right to voicemail.

"Denny, this is John..." I said. "Call me If you want to talk...if you want to come over here I'd love to see you...don't let the bastards get you down...bye."

I found solace in my textbooks. There was something reassuring and comforting in the complex mathematical equations and formulas: perfection in a not-so-perfect world.

After dinner, I was cleaning up the kitchen when I thought I heard something. I shut off the water and listened. Someone was tapping lightly on the window. The blinds were drawn but I knew it was Lane. I smiled and went to open the outside door.

I really need to get a key made for him, I thought, as I waited for him to emerge from the small pathway through the thick bushes.

He was bending over to avoid the branches. I saw the top of his ballcap first.

Finally, I thought, a new ballcap!

When he straightened up my heart stopped. It wasn't Lane, it was Denny.

We both looked around and then hurried into my apartment.

We hugged. It seemed like the most natural instinct in the world. I pressed my head against his broad chest. Being in his arms gave me the sense of safety and security I needed.

He kissed my forehead as he held me tight. I felt his penis become erect just as he broke off the hug. I was thrilled he found me desirable.

We settled on the sofa.

"I'm glad you came here -- I've been worried about you," I said.

I closed the gap between us until our legs were touching. I wanted to subtly let him know I cared; that the things I'd said the other day didn't mean anything; that they were said out of fear and self-loathing.

His body visibly relaxed. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. His eyes softened, but he still didn't smile.

"I offered to quit the team..." he said, "but all the guys said 'no'...."

"That's great," I said automatically.

Part of me wanted him away from football...far away, where he could live his life anonymously; where people wouldn't give a damn he was gay.

"We had a private meeting tonight...the big boys in Administration want me to quit -- they say it's going to get bad -- they say it's going to bring real negative publicity to the school that will hurt recruiting ...they told Coach he should advise me to quit for the good of the team and the university...I tried to quit, but the guys wouldn't have it -- they said it's b.s. and we're all in this together...."

"What do you mean 'it's going to get bad'? How bad?" I asked.

"I guess some sports reporters know I'm gay -- they've been talking to a lot of people on campus...they say they don't write stories just to attack a guy's personal life so they've been holding off on printing them...now, they say a gay college football player who could go high in the NFL draft is a real news story -- they're not going to hold their stories any longer -- I think it could 'hit the fan' any day."

I was outraged, but at the same time scared senseless.

How, in any sane and reasonable universe, can someone's sexuality be considered a news story?

"That's why I came here...when this blows-up I don't want you anywhere near me...I'm strong -- I can take the heat...I don't want anyone else getting hurt on my account...when this dies down -- maybe...well, I'm hoping you and I can spend more time together."

I said the first thing that came into my mind.

"But I want to be with you now...."

We gazed into each other's moistened eyes.

He said, "You don't know how much I've wanted to hear you say that."

A tapping noise on my window startled both of us. I briefly wondered what it was; I quickly recovered and knew it had to be Lane.

"Uh, well...a friend of mine comes over every now and then...." I said in response to the question in Denny's eyes.

I opened my apartment door then the building door and Lane scurried inside.

A benign, bemused expression spread across both of their faces.

"You still wearing that ratty-old ballcap?" Denny asked Lane.

Lane retorted, "You still have that fifteen-year-old jockstrap hanging on your wall?"

I was relieved when they smiled and shook hands. It should have occurred to me they knew each other: they were both on athletic scholarships and lived in the same building.

"Are you alright, Den?" asked Lane. "They're beating you up pretty good online."

"Well, I figured it would happen sooner or later," he replied, sadly shaking his head. "The timing is bad, though, being in the middle of the season...I feel terrible for the team...."

I asked them if they wanted something to drink.

"No thanks, John, I better get going," Denny replied.

We exchanged good-byes then with a smirk on his face Denny added, "You boys have a wonderful evening now, okay?"

Lane and I embraced and kissed. He had a hard-on that pressed against my belly. I briefly wondered if it was me or Denny who had aroused him.

As we walked hand-in-hand into the bedroom, I felt a twinge of guilt and confusion.

Am I cheating on Denny having Lane here? Or, because of the feelings I have for Denny, am I cheating on Lane?

It was then I realized love is an infinite emotion. The human heart has no restrictions or limits. It is possible to love a hundred people as it is one. The love I felt for both Lane and Denny was mutually strong and non-exclusive.

I smiled at the thought I was in love with two wonderful guys.

"Okay Aqua-boy -- strip naked and get on the table!" I said with a mock forcefulness.

Lane visibly shivered with anticipation as he tore off his clothes and climbed onto the massage table.

An hour later we were cuddling beneath the heavy bedspread; naked and perspiring, we clung to each other as though we were the last humans alive on the planet.

We gently stroked and kissed and made soft exclamations of joy and satisfaction. We were now accustomed to exchanging the remnants of our fluids with our lips and tongues.

"I better get going..." he murmured in my ear but made no movement to do so.

We continued caressing and kissing until I suddenly blurted out, "Have you been to bed with Denny?"

Lane flinched and I heard his breath catch in his throat. I had my answer.

It occurred to me that when Lane saw Denny in my apartment, the expressions on their faces, and their body language suggested they'd been more than mere acquaintances. I had been so self-absorbed in being in the presence of the two men I loved I'd completely missed it.

"Well, uh...uh...." he softly stammered.

"If you don't want to say anything I'll understand...." I reassured him.

"No, no...we shouldn't keep secrets..." he said.

Then he gave a long sigh and continued: "It was our first year here -- our freshman year...we both wanted to take summer classes so we were here in June...there were only a handful of other guys living in the dorm...with all the empty rooms in June what are the odds they'd give us rooms next to each other?"

"We hung out and became friends...we worked-out together, and he likes to swim so I took him to the practice pool where only the swim team can go...I don't really know how it began, but one day after swimming we were in the showers -- he was standing across from me...I tried not to, but I couldn't stop myself from looking at him -- not openly, of course, I thought I was being secretive about it...he's got such a great body I just had to look...anyway, he got a hard-on -- oh my God -- I'd never seen a cock like his before -- not like I had a lot of experience looking at cocks, but his erection made me hard, too...are you sure you want to hear this?"

I smiled and kissed him. I thought maybe I should feel jealousy, but instead, I was experiencing a different reaction.

I softly laughed and said, "Yes I want to hear this."

I guided his hand to my hard cock, and added, "This is a great bedtime story, please continue."

"Aren't you a dirty boy," he giggled then slowly began stroking my prick.

"Anyway...we walked back to our rooms and he asked if I would spot him while he lifted weights. I said, "Sure" so we went into his room...he's got quite a set-up: a bench, a barbell, a couple hand weights, anyway...he takes off his shirt and lays on the bench, he holds the barbell and tells me to place my hands next to his in case he loses his grip -- okay, no problem...he begins his reps and I stare at his chest...something came over me as I looked at his marvelous chest and I get another hard-on -- OH MY GOD, I thought, all I'm wearing is tiny gym shorts, and I'm standing over his face -- my crotch maybe two-feet from his eyes -- I knew for sure he could see my bulge..."

Lane's hand slowed-down on my prick; he was trying to delay my impending climax.

"Anyway, he stopped and said it was my turn...I protested, I said there was too much weight and he said, "C'mon, you baby, at least give it a try"...what could I do? Now his crotch was just above my face...I tried not to look, but something fascinating was happening...while I struggled with the barbell, he began squatting lower and lower making sure I wouldn't drop the barbell on myself, and I clearly watched his cock get harder and harder in his shorts...worst of all, he wasn't wearing a jock or underwear...the leg holes of his shorts flared open and I found myself staring at his balls and his cock -- I was terrified he'd catch me looking and would beat the shit out of me, but he wouldn't let me stop lifting, and I couldn't stop looking at him..."

I took a deep breath; Lane's skilled hand was bringing me closer and closer to another climax.

"What happened next?" I asked.

"He began squatting even lower...I could smell his aroma...I gasped out loud -- I moaned -- I was sure he could hear me but I was too far gone...his smell drove me crazy...my cock was throbbing, I knew I was going to cum in my shorts while he was watching...I'd never felt such humiliation -- I was so ashamed of myself teardrops rolled down my face..."

"Poor thing," I said, stroking Lane's hair.

"He helped me place the barbell in the holder rack...I was going to cover myself with my hands but he held them to the bar, he said "Don't move"...he pushed his shorts to the floor and squatted lower until his balls were on my face..."

"Oh my God -- what did you do?"

"His smell overwhelmed me -- I caved-in -- I surrendered -- I didn't even think about it -- I began to...I, uh...I licked his balls...they were sweaty from his work-out and I licked the sweat off his balls...oh Christ, how I hated myself but I couldn't stop licking him..."

Lane shifted on the bed. He began kissing my chest; gently biting my nipples; he kissed his way down my body. His hand moved faster on my hard cock.

"Suddenly, Denny reached out and gripped my cock thru my shorts -- he squeezed it hard...he gave it two-three strokes and I was gone...it was the biggest load of cum I ever shot and it soaked my shorts -- and his hand...."

Lane was kneeling between my legs now, his tongue licking at my cockhead.

I coughed and with a raspy voice I asked, "What happened? What did Denny do next?"

"He guided his cock to my lips -- he held it still -- he didn't force me to do anything -- it was up to me to make the next move...I couldn't help myself -- I lifted my head off the bench and wrapped my lips around his prick...I sucked him as he fucked my face...he unloaded a gallon of cum in my mouth..."

Suddenly my body jerked and spasmed -- I shot streams of cum into Lane's greedily sucking mouth. I couldn't believe how excited his story had made me. I pictured Denny's big cock in Lane's mouth as I grunted and groaned and emptied my balls. I heard Lane gulping down my discharge.

He kissed my lips. I tasted my own cum once again.

He lay with his head on my chest, eyes closed; I masturbated his wonderfully stiff cock until his semen spurted upwards then fell and coated my hand, and his belly.

I scooped up as much of his cum as I could then brought my hand to my lips and licked it clean, savoring every drop.

Lane watched me eating his cum with a look of awe and wonder in his wide open eyes. A huge smile spread across his beautiful face.

We breathlessly murmured "I love you" then fell asleep in each other's arms.

Each day of the following week, the "SquawkBox" comments concerning Denny garnered more and more media attention.

It began like a small snowball at the top of a hill then as it rolled downward it grew bigger and bigger until it became totally out of control with a life of its own.

The large media outlets mostly ignored the story until Thursday. Then, for whatever reason, perhaps to divert attention from 'boring' stories like a bad economy, and millions of unemployed people struggling day-by-day just to live, Denny's plight became a national spectacle.

It was silly and ridiculous. Gay people had slowly gained rights in many states; the initial furor had died down, and I thought people were finally accepting the fact that gay people deserved to live open and fulfilling lives like everyone else.

Now it seemed as though the country had regressed back to square one. They could accept that gay people were everywhere in every walk of life, but an athlete? A GAY ATHLETE?? OUTRAGEOUS!!!

Denny wanted me to stay away. He wanted to protect me from the idiots and homophobes.

On Monday, I did just that. I went for my tutoring sessions slightly early and out of curiosity I snuck a look inside the cafeteria.

Denny was sitting alone finishing his dinner. His teammates walked by him without saying a word. He fought to maintain an appearance of stoicism, but I thought I saw the look of a deer caught in headlights in his sad eyes. It broke my heart.

Later, I tutored three of his teammates and there was a definite tension in the air. No witty banter or teasing; things had changed. At times they even became gruff with me when I tried hard to instill facts into their stubborn minds.

It was apparent that while the team showed a united front to the public, there was dissension and discord within their ranks.

It seemed they would accept 'Goldilocks' as their teammate as long as the national championship was a legitimate possibility, but I feared for Denny if the team should lose a game. I was sure his teammates would turn on him in a heartbeat.

Denny and I went thru our sessions; he finished first and left before I could talk with him.

That night I lay in bed a long time, my brain circuitry on overload, desperately thinking of what I could do or say to help make life easier for my friend. He was facing this shit-storm all alone and it wasn't right.

Friendship is easy in the good times, but the true mark of friendship, and the character of a man, is how they deal with adversity.

What kind of man would allow his friend to suffer in silence and not offer his fullest comfort and support?

My heart was racing as I walked to Tuesday's tutoring sessions. My palms were perspiring, my hands were trembling and I felt weak in the knees.

I waited out of sight of the cafeteria door until I saw Denny. Out of deference, or whatever, he stepped to the side and let a few teammates go past him into the cafeteria. They ignored him like he was invisible.

He wore his feelings of desolation and despair on his face. His expression of confusion and helplessness tore at my heart.

I sidled-up next to him before he knew I was there.

"Let's go inside, Johnson," I said. "I'm starving."

His big eyes went moist when he saw me; his face relaxed, his jaws quit grinding together. I had to clear my throat to fight-off my own tears.

"You shouldn't be here," he whispered.

"You invited me to have dinner with you -- anytime," I said. "C'mon, let's go eat."

I walked past him to the food line; he followed close behind. The room went silent for a few seconds -- all eyes were on us. When their curiosity was satisfied, the low hum of chatter filled the room once again.

We slowly made our way down the food line. My nervousness was gone. I just knew I'd made the right decision in coming here.

"I think I'll go with a color theme tonight," I said.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I'm going to try the green meat loaf with the brown salad..."

He chuckled and said, "Suit yourself -- I'm having the over-cooked steak with the under-cooked chicken...."

"Wise choice," I remarked.

We attacked our food like starving animals. I realized I hadn't eaten much the past few days and it showed. We both went back for second platefuls.