Varsity Low Ch. 06

I'm standing here

on the ground

The sky above

won't fall down

See no evil

in all directions

Resolution of happiness

Things have been dark for too long

Don't change for you

Don't change a thing

...for me

INXS ---- Don't Change

*******

Anders and I fled campus for breakfast at the cool IHop on the other side of town. It was vintage IHop, roof line like a Swiss chalet; roof of bright blue metal. Tables packed in at maximum density, crusty mean old waitresses with badly hurting feet, big greasy menus. Too authentically working class even for the legions of proto-hipsters from campus. It was the new center of my universe.

I watched Anders plow thru his huge breakfast; a full combo platter with two huge slices of French toast on the side. Given his workout and wrestling practice routines, eating big seemed mandatory. He cut a big corner of French toast, swabbed it in maple syrup, and forked it into my mouth. It was yumm, especially since I was having a western omellete to sidestep the carbs.

Anders finished scraping his plates, licking his fork with his broad pink tongue, and looked up at me with sated joy. "Damn. That was pretty good!"

"Yeah, it was werewolf good, 'cuz you sure ate like one. Coffee?" I poured from the mini pot left on the table.

"You know what I like best about you Travis?" he clowned.

"Ah, could it be my powerful vocabulary, my high cheekbones, or my advanced parallel parking skills?" I responded. "Or is it just my easy going Southern elan?"

He laughed, "yeah, all of that, but it is really just that you don't feel the need to talk all the time."

Whoa. Astute and cute... "yeah, just following your lead, bro. I talk when I have something real to say. Ready? I've got the check."

"Yeah. Meet you out front. I wanna wash the maple syrup off my werewolf paws before I get in the GTI." Sweet boy, mid-western manners. I was roadkill yet again.

"Mmm. That would be helpful, my varsity letterman of few words."

I paid, and waited for him by the car. Teasingly springlike day in late February. Blue sky, white clouds, warm sun.

We cruised back thru town, sunroof open, windows down, bellies full of IHop, hearing my all R.E.M. playlist. Then into the newest part of campus, currently a frenzied labyrinth of endless construction. Detours, cement trucks; dorms, parking decks, the huge new bio-tech building all going up hell-for-leather at the same damn time. Why did all the future look like 'A Clockwork Orange'? m

My parking karma was good and I slipped into the small student lot behind Lambeth Hall, Anders' dorm. "Lets go kick back on the bench in Old Quad, and get some sun." he offered.

"Yesss, I need to be outdoors." Old Quad seemed like a pocket park compared to newer bigger Central Quad. Among the mature trees and plantings Anders had found a comfy old bench partly enclosed by boxwood, the area freshly laid with fragrant new woodchips to spare us the early spring mud, perhaps the work of studly Caleb and his team of groundsmen.

We both kicked back, faces towards the weak sun, content in comfortable silence. l looked over at him, eyes closed, head back. He had grown in a trim handle bar moustach and a soul patch, lower sideburns, while his mane of strawberry blond was just as shaggy as ever. Boyish yet fearsome; Viking prince in a ringer tee and zip front hoodie.

After a while he said evenly "I think I am ready to tell you about my parents." I knew that his parents had both died suddenly when he was in the 8th grade, but nothing more.

"Ok. I am here for you." I sat up sideways on the bench to face him, one arm slung over the back, took off my sunnies to allow for eye contact.

Head back, eyes closed, he started his story in a calm even voice.

"We lived in Northbrook, outside of Chicago, one of the nice northwestern 'burbs. Dad was in advertising, with an agency down in the Loop. Mom was just starting in commercial real estate.

Dad was bi-polar, and he would cycle off his meds to enhance his creativity at the ad agency, but he would also become aggressive and erratic. They fired him. He pretended to go to work and come home for two weeks.

Then, one afternoon, he came home, took the loaded Glock from the console box in his car, went inside, shot mom between the eyes, then turned the gun on himself and did the same. Two clean shots, no one suffered, the sheriff told me. I came home from school and I found them.

At first I just froze. It was clear from the scene what had happened. I knew not to touch anything, and I called my grandfather. He told me to call 911, and to stay at the house, he was coming for me.

The house was a bedlam of cops, I waited in front of the garage doors. After I made my statement, no one seemed concerned with me at all. Gramps came, put me in the front seat of his truck, and boxed up stuff from my room and put it in the truck. We drove down to the farm where granma had made up a room for me. They started calling me Anders 'cuz my dad's name was also Hugh, and it was too painful to hear out loud.

They just transplanted me like a tomato start into a new life. Gramps handled all the hearings and estate stuff. I am sure they were not planning on raising a teenage grandson, but they just stepped up and did it." he finished.

"Of course they did. They must be awesome grandparents." I said, calm and low.

Anders leaned forward, elbows on knees, face in his hands. I stayed still and quiet, letting him sit with his moment of recalled trauma and grief and pain.

I saw Anders as a boy in the 8th grade, already thickening and forming into the powerfully built young man siting next to me now. Sweet, sunny boy, playing his sports, running across the sun dappled green lawns of Northbrook, all flags flying on the 4th of July, long low-slung ranch houses, blue pools and new Audis, enfilades of leafy green trees. Then, one ordinary fall day, home from school, coming face to face with just what a sick joke life could be. Shit.

"I am sorry for your loss; sorry for what you went through and are still going through. I have no real point of reference for what happened to you and I won't ever insult you by pretending that I do." I said calmly.

I held open my arms to hug him, and he dove in, I held him tight, and then he was sobbing. Deep primal sobs, animal keening sounds, filled with grief, terror, rage, loss. confusion. I let him go through it, held him tight. He slowed and stopped, pulled back and wiped a long streamer of snot on the sleeve of his hoodie.

"Whoa. That was attractive." He laughed, fetching around. "I'm a mess."

"You're good. Who here knows your story?" I asked.

"Coach. Dean of Students. I have a regular therapist thru the Counseling Center. You. Griff and the jocktard posse do not know."

"Good. You have serious people looking out for you. I will be one of them. Count on my total discretion" I assured him.

"Cool. I feel better having told you. It gets better, but it never really goes away." he sighed.

We sat quiet for a while, then I got his best blond puppy dog look. "You wanna go up to my room?" he said with an edge of urgency.

"Yeah, Ok" super casual.

Upstairs, he closed the door behind him and I pinned him to it with my whole body, and kissed him, slow, deep, dreamlike. I pulled back, and pushed him down to his knees, back and head still against the door.

He opened my jeans, got out my pink blond 7", cut, and sucked me. I held his head still, against the door, and started fucking his mouth, deep and rough. He took it, "Fuck yeah, take it deep....unh, be my hot suck boy!" I got in his velvety throat, horned and empowered by using his mouth as a fuck toy.

I pulled out, looked down at him, into those green eyes. "I wanna fuck you Anders. Make you my varsity butt boy." I whispered.

"Hell yeah, Trav, I fuckin' want you inside me." He pulled off his clothes faster than if they had been full of Fire Ants, and went face and belly down on the twin bed, legs spread.

My clothes off, I found the lube and greased my cock, right next to his face. I went behind him and touched his big, muscular glutes with my fingertips, glorious male ass covered with dirty blond fur, warm and soft

I went down and rubbed three days of blond scruff on his butt, getting a groan and shiver. from my Viking prince. I went lower, went face deep in his ass, licking his tight pink boy pussy, prepping him to take my cock, rimming him to express how beautiful his ass was, huffing his male scent, "unnnnnnh!" was his response.

I backed out, and put two greased up fingers up on his tight dude slot, and held them there before going in. He moaned, and pushed back, wanting it. I fingered him, prepping him for cock.

Then I put my blunt pink glans up to his butt hole, held, and then penetrated him, slowly. He gasped and tightened, I held, went still when I was balls deep. I could feel him relax into the fuck zone..."oh damn, fuck me Trav, use me like a slut!" Ok, then.

I pounded him, the bed banging against the wall, I could not get enough of his tight hot pinkness, the heat of being inside him.

I was reared up, looking down and back, watching my shaft piston muscley wrestler ass. I lowered my torso, full contact with his splendid back. I hooked my arms under his shoulders, he took both my hands and held tight. I put my face in his shaggy tangle of hair and inhaled him. His clean male scent put me over, and I shot, hard and fast, hearing my own low grunts, cumming long with lust.

Finished, I stayed inside him, letting us come down into our post-fuck head space. He still held both my hands in his.

He had not cum, so I turned him over, ass at the edge of the bed, legs spread. I got on my knees in front of him, his uncut beer can cock rock hard, the blunt head shiny with pre-cum, big fuzzy balls scrunched up, ready for me to lick, which I did, my spit slicking down the scrot fuzz. I inhaled his crotch scent, clean and male.

I went down on him. His girth plus the foreskin was a lot. I worked the skin over his glans with tongue and lips; he grunted, put one big hand on the back of my head. I sucked slow and lite, southern style, putting him in a sex trance, edging him twice. Both hands on the back of my head, I went for the finish; he unloaded in my mouth, so much jizz I was gulping hard to keep up, "unnnnh! suck me Trav, eat that fuckin' cum, gulp it it down baby! fuck yeah! yeah! yeah!"

I kept him in my mouth, and gave him some loving post cum suck, landing us both back from the zone. "Daaaaaahmn, Trav. That was awesome!"

I laughed. "Yeah, it pretty much kinda' was awesome" I could not stop grinning. He turned over, ass slung to one side, and I was awestruck by his broad shoulders and meaty blond fuzzed ass. Awestruck also that a jock stud like this could be so richly taken, and that he had given himself to me.

"Let's get dressed and go out for a walk. It will be cold and grey again tomorrow, c'mon." I said, finding and pulling on my own clothes, which, as always, seemed to be everywhere.

Back outside, it was warmer than earlier. The campus swarmed with students and faculty, like a Prairie Dog village coming out from hibernation, everyone just happy to be outdoors.

"We need alcohol. Let's walk over to Duff's Tavern, get a pitcher or three out on the patio." I directed.

Anders looked at me, green eyes wet and shining. "Thanks Trav. For breakfast. For today. For not being freaked out by all my scary shit."

I put my arm over his wide shoulders, pulled him close, and touseled his mane of strawberry blond hair. I knew I could never make everything right for Anders, but I sure was fuckin' gonna try.

WG