Ryan's Ass

***Note that the following story is a work of semi-fiction, or maybe "inspired by a true story." Part is 100% true, and part is fantasy, and I leave it to the reader to determine which is which. Certain details have been tweaked to protect the "innocent."***

I've always been a standard-issue, comfortably straight guy. He was a standard-issue, comfortably straight guy. But we met in one of the gayest ways possible.

I was just shy of being 30 years old. I was working and taking classes to finish up an advanced degree at the time, hoping to jump start my career. Together these things pretty much torpedoed any free time I might have had. One thing that I absolutely, resolutely made time for was swimming laps pretty much daily at the local gym; the activity kept me sane after a long day of sitting on my ass. The net result was I had a nice tight build. I may not have had the bulk of some of the guys, but I certainly felt no shame in the locker room and I'd never felt better. Unlike other swimmers, or many guys my age, I never shaved my body hair or trimmed my bush... too lazy, I guess, with everything else going on. But more than that, I actually liked looking like a man. No false modesty, I was good looking and had never really had trouble with the ladies, but after a year of slaving away both at work and in the time-suck of a master's program, I was in a deep, deep romantic rut.

Because swim lanes were always in high demand, I usually hit the gym later on at night. And in truth, given the rat-race I was running, I thoroughly enjoyed having the place pretty much to myself, as it gave me time to recharge and refocus.

This one particular night, I had finished up my laps and retired to the locker room. It was deserted, and I moved into the jacuzzi room. A nice soak always helped unclench my muscles, and I feel no shame in saying I loved the way the bubbles felt on my naked balls.

And then, he opened the door and came in.

I was surprised, as I rarely saw another person this late... but whooo boy the newcomer caught my eye. Like I said, I thought of myself is perfectly straight and had never really... well, swooned over another guy before, but this guy was insane. He was the textbook definition of an all-American jock. His face was impressive enough... I mean, he looked like he just walked off a movie set. There was a bit of boyishness to him that was instantly disarming. But complimenting this was a freaking amazing body--a powerful build without being overly bulked up for just for show, like some of the gym rats I've run across. No, those muscles were built for use... I wondered what he played? He had dark hair, and like me he had a good dusting of hair across his arms, body, and crotch ... not like Sasquatch, but looking like a fucking man. And seeing him in all his naked, Olympian glory literally stopped my breath for a second. I mean, who was this guy...?

I was so struck by his manly form that it took me a minute to register that other unusual thing about him: he was on crutches.

Oh shit. That was going to be a problem.

You see, this room, and the jacuzzi itself, were not at all designed for a guy on crutches. The jacuzzi wasn't built into the floor, but sitting on top of it... forcing anyone who wanted to enter it to climb a short set of stairs, then pivot to walk down the stairs in the water to be able to take a seat. At best those steps were wet and slightly treacherous... but with a mobility issue? Plus, it didn't help that the room itself was only slightly larger than the tub, making it a tight space to navigate. He had very little room to position himself at the foot of the stairs. I immediately sensed this could get tricky fast.

The Olympian bent down and removed a brace from his right leg, and set it aside with his crutches. He hobble-hopped to the stairs, grabbed the hand rail, and with a deep breath, started hopping his way up. I saw his injured foot as he moved, and it looked nasty--a bit swollen but it was one nasty mass of purple-blue-black bruises. That must have hurt like a motherfucker. Still, he made it to the lip of the jacuzzi, and was positioned to make his way into the tub itself.

So far so good.

During all of this, I was trying to be nonchalant--I mean, really... sitting there naked, what was I going to say to a naked Greek God hopping his way into a hot tub with what looked like the grimmest of grim determination? As he moved, however, I slowly positioned myself to move fast if I needed to. But casually; I didn't want to disrespect him or his effort, or give any indication that I didn't think he could make it.

Well, he didn't make it.

What happened next was a spectacular, slow-mo disaster. He had started down the stairs in the tub, with the water churning around him. He was clutching the hand rail with white-knuckle intensity as he hopped down the first of the steps. He made the first one, but not the second. His good foot slid out from under him, causing him to lose his balance, and he started going down. He desperately grabbed the rail and clutched it with one hand, which somewhat broke his fall, but his momentum meant that his body continued to pinwheel sideways, and he fell over backwards.

Right towards where I was sitting.

Ass first. Into my face.

Purely by instinct, I shot my hands forward to keep him from smashing into me... and without any thought, squarely planted my hands on each one of his hairy asscheeks. Just like I was setting a volleyball.

"Dude! Dudedudedudedudedude!" I barked out, trying to keep him from thrashing around and making things worse. "It's ok, it's ok... I got you. I'm not letting go, you're good. Are you hurt?"

"No," he hissed back through gritted teeth. I imagine there was some pain, and an Olympic-sized heaping of absolute humiliation. "I'm ok. But... I can't... I can't stand up."

It was a preposterous situation. The guy's naked ass was mere inches from my face. My hands, while keeping him steady, were slightly pushing his cheeks apart, giving me a close-up-and-personal view of the Olympian's asshole, nestled in thick dark hair. I had never seen anyone's asshole that close, and... well, his pucker had transfixed me. It was like....

Jesus. What was I doing? Snap out of it. We have a situation, here!

"Ok. We got this," I said in what I hoped was a bright, easy-breezy tone. "I tell you what we're gonna do. On the count of three, I'm going to push you forward. Once you get your center of gravity under you, grab onto the rail with your other hand to stabilize yourself. You should be able to pivot from there. Ok?"

"Ok. Hurry." He bit off the words.

"One... two... THREE!" I pushed him forward and he was able to regain his footing. He then shifted his weight, repositioned himself, and essentially came down with a splashing crash so that he was sitting next to me in the jacuzzi ... utterly, completely, and ferociously humiliated.

Not surprisingly, he didn't make a sound as he sat there, just staring dejectedly across the bubbling water. I was pretty speechless myself... I mean, I had never had any kind of contact with another guy in any part of his... business. But there it was, I had my hands fully on a guy's ass, with my face close enough to kiss it good-night.

But looking at him, any weirdness I might have felt completely evaporated. However awkward it might have been for me, it was a million times worse for him. He was likely feeling violated along with feeling humiliated. You couldn't help but feel for him, and I decided to try and break the tension.

In a relentlessly earnest tone, I said, "Well, at times like this there's only one thing left to say, and that is... thank you for not farting in my face."

Olympian's head snapped around to stare at me with slack-jawed amazement, too stunned to be mortified.

Slowly, I started cracking up laughing... and a beat later he started in, too. Within moments we were both howling with laughter. In the midst of it all, I laughed out, "I knew there would be a full moon tonight... but I never expected it to look so big." A new gale of laughter... we were both nearly crying at that point.

Finally, we regained what composure a couple of naked guys in a hot tub could manage, and the laughter died down to a rumble. I cheerfully ventured, "Well, as the old saying goes, there is nothing so awful that can't be made worse by having your friends mock you for it."

He still had a loopy grin on his face. "Ah. So you're saying we're friends now?"

"Well, I certainly hope so!" I responded in a faux-scandalized tone. "Do you think I'm so loose that I'd grab just any guy's ass?"

He playfully karate-chopped a respectable splash of water in my face. Then he extended his hand. "Ryan."

I gave it a hearty shake. "I'm Tim. Nice to meet you. Well formally, at least." We chuckled again. "So, Ryan, what happened to your foot? That looked ugly."

Ryan rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Jesus... it was the stupidest thing ever. I was walking down the stairs at my apartment to the laundry room. Not falling down the stairs, not skateboarding down the stairs, just walking. I stepped off the bottom stair and landed on my foot wrong. All my weight was on one side as I came down, and I essentially folded my foot in half, the long way." I violently shuddered as he said that. "I ended up snapping three bones. I went to the clinic and there's nothing they can really do... they're in the middle of my foot, so a cast wouldn't do any good. They gave me a brace to help immobilize it, but really I just have to let everything heal."

"Aw, man dude... that epicly sucks."

"Jesus, man, tell me about it. For a week I pretty much had to completely stay in bed except to eat and pee. I'm supposed to be on semi-complete bed rest this week... but I've been going out of my fucking mind. Bored to tears and completely left to my own devices. I'm at my best when active and it's been a prison sentence. Finally, I snapped and decided to come here... and every part of this trip was a disaster. Driving with my foot like this absolutely sucks. It totally fucked up my routine, and I ended up humiliating myself with the first guy I see. I mean, fuck my life!"

"Man, I'm so sorry." I thought about something Ryan said. "So, no one to help out in your hour of need?"

At this point, much of the lightness in his face vanished, replaced by brooding. "This is just the tip of the iceberg for the shit storm of my life. I just moved here about six weeks ago. After college I was playing volleyball out in California for a time, but got out of it and lined up a job here. My girlfriend and I moved here, and pow! Just like that, she dumps me like a day later and kicks me out of our new apartment. I had to scramble to find a new place... at least I never unpacked the first time. I started my job and the guys there a cool... but I mean, I barely know anyone's name, so I can't really ask them over to buy my groceries or help me get into the shower. Work's being great about this, but at this point I kinda want to chuck everything into the garbage and start over anywhere else."

"Jesus, guy. I can't even imagine." He looked over and gave me a grateful, if still glowerful smirk.

Now, normally I'm a pretty quiet guy. Friendly and easy going, sure... but again, kinda quiet and usually keeping more to myself. I don't know quite what motivated me, but I ended up doing something completely out of character.

"Well Ryan, as your best friend here in town, I'm going to help you. And I'm going to start by helping you out of this death trap." Ryan looked at me with surprise, and started to fumble out some sort of protest. I shut him down instantly. "No, don't give me that... it's going to be as tricky getting out as it was getting in. And sense we've already... broken the ice, so to speak, there's no one better for the job. I've already established I got your ass covered when you need it."

He caught the glint in my eye as I said that last part, and with theatrical exacerbation agreed to this new assault on his dignity.

In truth, I'm not sure how well he would have managed things if I wasn't there to help. We stood up. He put one arm around my shoulders and leaned in tightly to me, so we were locked naked hip to naked hip. It was a comically surreal moment, made more bizarre when we were coming back down the stairs and our dicks were flopping around in perfect unison. As that happened, I found myself making the mental note that we were evenly matched in that department... both cut and bigger than average, although I was slightly thicker. And both of us with impressive man-bushes.

Finally, I got him out of there, and we showered up to leave. I walked with him to the parking lot to make sure he didn't have any trouble. He threw his gear into the seat and turned to me. "Tim... well, thanks, man. Thanks for... everything. I am... so, so sorry about this whole situation."

"We're good man, I was happy to help. Hell, I haven't got to third base since my girlfriend dumped me a couple months ago. So I owe you!" We laughed. And on a whim, I went on. "Look, if you're new in town and all, my favorite watering hole is just around the corner. Care to join me?"

Ryan thought about it for a second and I thought he was just going to slip home, but finally he broke out into a grin and said, "You know... why the hell not. Lead the way!"

I don't know what I was expecting, but we ended up having a blast. Once we were fully dressed and on more or less equal standing, Ryan really opened up. He was a jock... 100% a jock, with a jock-like mentality and view of the world. And he was incredibly competitive. But not in, well... a jackassery kind of way. I got the sense that he was a guy who wanted to really suck the marrow out of life and was constantly pushing himself. But I was surprised to find that just under the surface, he was a massive geek. We were both into comic books--thank God, we were both DC kind of guys, not Marvel--and had an unhealthy obsession with Star Wars (the real trilogy), TNG, and Lord of the Rings. It was a long time since I just plain connected with a guy like that.

I surprised myself further by offering to swing by his place after work the next day to see how he was getting by, and was pumped that he agreed.

Over the next few weeks, we had become fast friends, and I found myself helping him settle in to his new apartment and manage on his mangled foot. He was a sweetheart of a guy--outgoing and confident, and just plain fun to hang out with. Especially at first, we usually hung out at his place to keep him off his foot as much as possible.

In time we became inseparable. Ryan... really brought me out of my shell. For a long time, I realized that although I genuinely was busy, I way too often used "being busy" as an excuse to hide. But Ryan pushed me out of my comfort zone, and I was appreciating the new perspective.

As I spent time with him, I noticed something... Ryan had a distinct scent. I mean, guys tend to anyway, but it was different with him. Stronger. I don't mean in a bad way, it was just... Ryan.

The other thing that was never far from my mind was just what a great body he had. And it was... memorable. So many guys keep themselves smooth as a 13-year-old girl, but with his body hair Ryan just fucking oozed casual, confident masculinity. Maybe for comfort, maybe because he knew I had seen it all anyway, he usually just hung around in gym shorts, with or without a T-shirt. He never wore underwear, as evidenced by his bouncing bulge. And more than once when he was just sprawled out on the couch, his dick was... sprawling out, too.

But the weird thing is... I still thought about his killer ass. Well, just sometimes. I mean, I don't really go for that thing. I was straight. Totally straight. But... well, sometimes... if I was hanging out with him and he turned around, there was... I don't know, a flash of memory. I mean, I had never come close to grabbing a guy back there. That was completely off-limits, forbidden territory. Guys are forever flashing their dicks, comparing each other's dicks, laughing about their dicks. But a guy's butt was, you know, dirty. Ugly. Nasty. The "butt" of raunchy humor.

But not Ryan's.

I had always loved the pear-shaped softness of a woman's ass, but Ryan's was something totally different. Perfectly rounded, and yet straight direct lines. And I mean, it was... raw. Powerful. The thing was solid muscle. And recalling he had a covering of man-fur added to the impact, making it... so fucking masculine. So...

...fucking sexy.

Wait, what the fuck? Again, I'm not gay. I'm not into that shit. What the hell was wrong with me?

And yet, why was I daydreaming about him working out naked, thinking about that masculine ass flexing as he....

Jesus. Stop. I'm not creeping on my buddy. Who is straight as an arrow. Hell, we're both straight as an arrow.

And yet, that straightness... well, that was part of the allure. In a weird sort of way. Forbidden. Dangerous.

Fuck. Stop.

So. At some point, after he had fully healed, Ryan and I decided to do a Lord of the Rings marathon. Of course, with the extended versions. This took a degree of planning, as we wanted to do them all back-to-back-to-back in one sitting. We both wrangled a totally free Saturday out of our schedules and planned on starting off at 11 AM... figuring that with bathroom breaks, stretches, and eating, we would still be going strong after midnight. We drew up a list of food so that we could indulge in a nice, steady gorge. I also sprung for the booze, so we could finish up everything in a blaze of glory. On the appointed day, we gathered at his place, killed the phones, and strapped ourselves in.

It was a wonderful wallow. I mean, we both love the movies and totally let ourselves get swept into the story. After 11 hours and 26 minutes of viewing time, we were pretty much useless blobs of flesh splayed across his couch, even with regular stretch breaks to keep us limber. The final hour or so of Return of the King always keeps me absolutely riveted, and puts me through the emotional ringer, no matter how many times I watch it... I barely moved a muscle at all.

We had fallen into a companionable silence as it finally ended, as we both took long draws of whiskey. Reflecting. I finally broke the silence. "You know, no matter how many times I see it, that part where Sam says 'I can carry you!' makes me cry like a baby. Amazing."

There was a long silence, that seemed... significant. Finally, Ryan responded, in a voice quieter than I had ever heard from him before. "Tim? ... You know... I'd carry you up that mountain."

Young guys, including Ryan and I, pretty much run on snarky comebacks and ball busting. But I had nothing to say. No retort. I just looked over at my friend, mere inches away from me on the couch, and took him in, in quiet wonderment. Ryan finally went on. "You... you came into my life at a really dark time. A really dark time. You got me through everything and always had my back, never asking for anything. Just... always there. I've... I've never had a friend like you."

I... I don't quite know what was going through my mind. Or maybe it wasn't going through my mind, but my heart. Without thought, I reached over and lay my hand on his shoulder. I think the gesture was originally meant to just be friendly, acknowledging.

But... the feel of him....

The heat of him. The muscles rippling with power. I think my hand... trembled. We looked at each other. Really looked at each other. And my heart... started racing. I had never had a friend like him, either. A guy who was ready to take a bullet for me. Who always pushed me but was there in a heartbeat to catch me if things went south. There was... something I couldn't explain racing between the two of us. Connecting us. In response to my touch, he reached over to me, with his fingers gently sliding around to the back of my neck. Ryan all but cradling my head. No, it wasn't cradling... it wasn't... well, gentle. It wasn't rough, it was just... strong. There was an intensity.