Tampa, Florida
Part 19

Mark was about to take a shower, but I managed to convince him to wait a while. I was kinda trying to figure out a way to gawk some more at his bod, and maybe even get to touch it. “Can you be my coach?" I pleaded with my best puppy-dog eyes. "I want my bod to look as good as yours. Please, Mark?”

“It’s not just about pushups and situps, Daniel, although they help. And it’s not just about exercising with a chest expander or jogging in the mornings. If you want your bod to be truly cut, you’ve gotta work hard at it. You need a boxing bag.”

“There’s one in the garage. It’s Andy’s old one… he doesn’t use it now ‘cause he’s got my mom. Just kidding. He would never hit my mom. Even if he did, I think my mom would hammer him solid.”

We dressed in shorts, then went to the garage. I turned on the light, and took the dust cover off the bag. Then Mark helped tie the laces of my gloves. “Don’t just hit it,” he kept ordering, “use the power of your upper body… throw your whole shoulder into each punch… and stand with your legs apart.”

I was just about exhausted after punching the shit outa the bag for about 15 or 20 minutes when he asked me if I had a medicine ball. “It’s a heavy padded ball that your sparring buddy drops on your gut while you’re laying flat on the floor. It strengthens your abs.”

“I remember Cody telling me about that, but, no, I don’t have one.”

“Then get one. Meantime, get your buddy Paul to practise with you. Get him to punch your abs while you stand there.”

“He’s gonna love that,” I cracked, and then...

“Punch mine.” So I did. “Harder.” So I did. “Harder.”

“How hard?”

“Hard as you can.”

“What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t.”

I looked at those awesomely defined abs and wondered how many teeth I’d have left after hitting him as hard as I could. I was no fucking lightweight, and pretty fit, so I hoped he knew what he was talking about. Whammo! Nothing. He was standing there as if I’d only given him a friendly smack.

“Again.”

Whammo. Still nothing. The fucker hadn’t even flinched. “Again?”

“Sure.”

This time I gave it all I had… enough power to flatten most guys. But, again, zip. He just stood there as if I’d whalloped him with a rolled-up newspaper. Unbe-fucking-lievable.

“Time for a shower.”

“Me, too,” I beamed.

“You can go first. You stink.”

“First? Oh... I thought… well, I kinda figured it would save time if… I mean…”

“I know what you mean,” he grinned, and backhanded me in the gut. “If it weren’t for that blonde hair, I’d swear you were Cody.”

A soon as the water had reached the right temp, I followed his broad, tanned shoulders and muscular back into the shower. Then we faced each other.

“Do you think I’m crazy?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“I mean, like… for admiring you so much? I know it’s kinda dumb in a way, hey… like some schoolgirl crush or whatever, but I can’t help it.” I grabbed the soap and started to wash his chest, making sure my flat hands spent plenty of time exploring his pecs. It was just so awesome to be feeling the curves and contours of the firm muscle beneath his shiny bronzed skin, made all the more sexy by the slippery smoothness of its soapy surface. “Well?” I asked after a few moments of silence, “aren’t you going to say something?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I dunno. I guess I was hoping you’d say something to make me feel less of a jerk.”

“If washing me makes you feel like a jerk, why the fuck wash me?”

“It feels good.”

“Ditto.”

“Did you admire Cody?” I asked as Mark turned to let me wash his back.

“Sure, in lots of ways.”

“I mean his bod.”

“I didn’t think of him as a god, if that’s what you mean. He was an incredibly good friend and all that, but worship is not my style.”

“He worshipped you.”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Cody was a bit eccentric in that way. He’d put certain people on pedestals… sporting heroes, singers, actors, and even ordinary dudes like me.”

“You’re joking, right?" I protested. "There’s nothing ordinary about you, Mark.” I was soaping his buns and thighs by that stage, and there was certainly nothing ordinary about them! Whoaaaaaa!

“If I were really as extraordinary as guys like you and Cody would have me believe, then that’s what everyone would think. Right? But that’s not what everyone thinks, so you guys have a major problem with infatuation or some fucking thing. Anyway, there’s no fucking way I’m gonna let guys like you inflate my ego to a point where I start believing I am whatever you think I am. And if you want my advice, you’d be smart to do likewise.”

“You wanna wash me now?” I was watching Mark’s face while he was soaping my chest, and rubbing his hands over my pecs and abs, but he was giving no hint of being excited. He could’ve been washing a store mannequin for all he seemed to care, and he didn’t even have a boner. Well, it was a pretty healthy semi, but not a skin-splitter like mine. “You think I’m pretty ordinary?”

“Stop fishing for fucking compliments, Daniel. You know I don’t think you’re ordinary, and you’ve got a stack of friends who don’t think you’re ordinary. Cody thought you ruled, right? But just don’t let that kinda adulation crap go to your head. There’s a lotta guys around who think their shit doesn’t stink. You don’t wanna be like them, Daniel, and neither do I. You get my drift?”

“I guess. But it’s kinda fun to be a god… at least, to have someone who thinks you are. Don’t you think?”

“Turn around.” So I did, and felt his soapy hands doing my back. “Yeah,” he continued, “Cody had a way of making me feel pretty damn special…”

“Like a god?”

“I guess you could put it that way.”

“I don’t blame him.”

“For Christ sake, don’t start that shit again.”

“It’s not shit! Even Steve called you a god, and he’s a fucking god himself, dammit!”

“Whatever.”

We were toweling ourselves when Mark asked me if I thought Paul was a god. So he must've been giving the subject a bit of thought.

“Yeah, he is in a way. I mean, he’s got a way cool bod and everything, but… well, he’s not like you. Y'know? There’s something about you, Mark. Strength or something. Not just physical strength. Some kinda inner strength that draws people; that makes them look up to you. Do you know what I’m saying?”

“Maybe.”

“So you’re aware of it?”

“I’ve spent all my life being strong, bro; being independent; being self-sufficient. I guess it shows. You wanna know something? When Fingers put me in charge of building the yacht – made me the baas man – that really blew me away. I was 18; hardly more than a kid. Think about it. But he figured I could handle the responsibility. Scared the crap outa me at first, but I proved him right.” Mark wrapped the towel around his waist, then checked his face in the mirror as he rubbed his chin. “I could do with a shave.”

“Can I shave you?”

“What?”

“Hey, I could do with the practice. I don’t shave yet. Please?”

“What the fuck am I gonna do with you?”

“Humor me. Where’s your shaving gear?”

“In a small bag in the closet in your room.”

“Don’t move!”

I was back in a jiffy, smoothing white shaving cream over his face. It was totally cool ‘cause it gave me a chance to really study his features up close. Strong jaw, well-shaped cheek bones, full rosy lips. Handsome as all get up. *Sigh*

I wet the safety razor under the hot water, then dragged it down the length of one cheek. Cool. No blood. I'd live long enough to collect my pension. After rinsing the blade, I continued shaving him. “This is rad.”

“You’re making me feel like an idiot.”

“Don’t talk. I might cut you.” Scraping the blade upwards from his lower neck to the chinbone was a bit tricky. But still no blood, so I was doing OK. “And stop trying to look in the damn mirror. I’m the mirror.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I like you. I like being with you. I like touching you. I like looking at your face.”

The trickiest part was shaving his chin. Blades weren’t shaped like a chin, so I had to get him to perform a couple of facial distortions to flatten certain surfaces.

“Let me do that bit, Daniel.”

“Shuddup.”

Once all the shaving cream had been removed from his face, I asked him to rinse it and check for any remaining stubble. Perfect! Woohoo!

“OK, now let me do your nipples.”

“You’re not going anywhere near my fucking nipples.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause they’re not easy to shave, that’s why. It requires practice and great care. I don’t wanna fucking bleed to death for fuck sake.”

“OK. You do ‘em. I’ll watch.” So I did, which gave me another chance to study wicked bits of his bod in great detail. It seemed to me that there was not a single square inch of Mark’s bod that didn’t turn me on. And I was loving the look of concentration on his face as he delicately ran the razor over his nipple area.

When he’d finished with his pec berries, he allowed me to do his armpits. That was totally cool ‘cause I loved the way his raised arm pulled his pec muscle up into a thick fold just below his shoulder. It was almost edible. Yum!

“What about that thin line of hair from your navel to your pubes?”

“I’ll take care of that.”

“Party pooper.”

“OK, OK, but no fucking funny business. You got it?”

I knelt on the tiled floor, which hassled my knees a bit ‘cause it was as hard as hell, then spread a little shaving cream over his flat gut. Being so close to his lazy, thick schlong, hanging over his nads, was sending major signals to my own schlong, and filling my stomach with a serious attack of butterflies, but I managed to shave him without making a fool of myself. “Anything else?” I asked as I gazed up at him.

But something made him crack, and he started giggling like crazy, which made it all the worse for me ‘cause his dick was flopping about all over the damn place like it was screaming out for mouth-to-mouth resuscitation or something. “You are just soooo fucking off the wall, Daniel. Just toooo fucking weird.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No, I’m not mad at you, bro. You just crack me up, that’s all.”

I didn’t quite know how to respond to that remark, so I busied myself, rinsing his shaving gear and packing it away when I felt his hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, you OK?”

“Yeah.”

“A bit embarrassed?”

“Kinda.”

“Don’t be. Hey, I’m no god, man, far from it, but I suppose if you wanna treat me like one then that’s cool. I guess I can handle it. Just don’t do it in public. Deal?”

I turned to look at his face and was pleased to see him smiling. “Deal.”

Then he increased his grip on my shoulder, pulled me sideways toward him, and gave me a couple of shakes. “How come I attract crazy people?”

“I dunno. But I’m glad you do.”

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