This is a true story. Mark is the kind of guy you might not like to begin with, but I'm sure you'll warm to him as the story progresses.
South Africa
Part 1
When I joined the swim team at school, I thought it might create an opportunity to make a close bud. I was dead wrong. Sure, the guys were cool but I still had trouble getting to know them. Something would always hold me back so that I'd keep them at an arm's length. Maybe I was meant to be a loner. In any case, being alone meant that I couldn't get hurt. I'd already been hurt enough by my parents' divorce. Now, I was living with my mom who depended on me to fix things around the house, and to do all the guy stuff. But it sucked serious fucking butt not to have a dad like the other kids did.
To disguise my unwillingness to get too close to people, I acted tough and mean. My hair was shaved. I figured if I looked aggro enough, guys would keep their distance. I wanted to be the one who made decisions about choosing a friend, not them. The guys who were friendly toward me did it outa fear more than anything. They were shit scared of me and figured hanging with me was cool. But they weren't what you'd call friends -- just guys who hung around 'cause I was the fucking man.
I had no trouble attracting girls, though. Shit, they hung around me like a bad smell. Why? 'Cause I had a hot bod, I guess. I mean, I'd have to be fucking blind not to know that most guys couldn't hold a fucking candle to my physique. I worked hard at staying in shape, and I was lucky to have had a naturally muscular build in the first place.
One of the things that really helped me cope with my aggression was the school gym. I'd go there early in the mornings before swim prac and thump the fucking shit outa the punching bag. Sometimes, I'd pretend that it was somebody I disliked. Yeah, that was a wicked feeling. I was always alone in the gym, so that was cool, too. I enjoyed privacy when I was working out with the bag. Doing weights was another of my fav pastimes, and it helped with my swimming.
There was one guy on the team who really pissed me off. His name was Kyle -- one of those smartass bastards who was always laughing and joking -- Mr Fucking Popular. Yeah. He was also one of the team's best swimmers. Kyle was a good friend of Ross's, another top swimmer, and the team captain. A while back, when I was clubbing with some of the guys, Ross got trashed and told me how he and Kyle had jacked each other off on a hiking trip. I knew Ross was straight, though, 'cause he was pretty seriously into his girlfriend. So that meant that Kyle was probably a fag.
It was after swim prac one day when Ross, Kyle and I were in the showers. I was a few yards away from them, but I could hear them talking. Ross had a massive boner, and Kyle was ragging him about it.
"Man, I'm still so fucking horny! I was at my girlfriend's place last night and we were getting ready to fuck when her dad walks in and sees my cock in her hand. He goes totally fucking ballistic and tries to fist me, but I bolted outa there with my pants still around my ankles," Ross laughed. "Anyway, her old man phones my dad, and my dad says it was his daughter's hand around my son's cock and to get real."
"What a fucking dickhead! Does your girlfriend's dad really think you're going to stop seeing her?"
"Too bad if he does. We're going clubbing on Saturday night, and I'm gonna fuck her lights out."
Kyle, by this time, had a raging boner as well. I wasn't sure if he was turned on by Ross's story or the sight of his bud stroking his throbber. I had to admit to myself, though, that watching Ross's hand riding his thick, hard, teen meat under the shower was making me helluva horny, too.
"Hey, Kyle," Ross laughed as he fisted his hardon, "if you had a pussy, man, I'd fuck you right here and now."
Kyle turned his back on his bud and pulled his ass cheeks apart. "Does this look familiar?"
Both guys cracked up big time. I did, too, but mainly 'cause I didn't want them to think I was some kinda lamo. Deep down, I resented Kyle's popularity and the way he could make other guys laugh.
The following day, I'd punched the fucking shit outa the bag in the gym again, but I was still feeling pretty aggro. Later, at recess, the sight of Kyle strutting around the quad looking like Mr Fucking Popular was getting under my skin, big time. There were a few guys standing around me, so I told them about what had happened in the shower the previous afternoon. The guys dared me to taunt Kyle.
"Hey, gay boy!" I yelled across the quad.
The spiky-haired kid glared at me with his hazel eyes, then strode up to where I was standing. "Say what?"
"Do you show your ring to everybody? Or is it just Ross you fancy?" The guys around me starting laughing, and I knew that I had this fucker cornered. "You're a fucking faggot."
The commotion caused a bunch of other kids to gather around, including Ross who was standing behind Kyle and whispering something into his ear. I was still laughing when a flurry of fists sent me flying backwards and down on my ass. I wiped my nose and mouth with the back of my hand and saw blood. I also saw red! I was gonna kill the cunt! By the time I'd scrambled to my feet, though, there were a couple of guys restraining me.
"What's going on here?" a teacher monitor demanded as he made his way through the crowd.
"It's OK," Ross lied. "This guy just tripped and hurt himself."
Later at swim prac, Ross took me aside. He wasn't the kinda dude you'd argue with and win. He was bigger than I was and could've flattened me with one hand tied behind his back. Besides, he was the team captain.
"I should pull you off the fucking swim team, asshole, but Kyle asked me not to. He said you got what was coming and that I should leave it at that. You've gotta learn a few things, Mark. All us guys fool around like Kyle does. Hell, last year Darren, who's at college now, used to whack off in the showers whenever he felt like it, like it was no biggie. And when we go on tour, we all brown-eye the passing cars from the bus. So you'd better chill, man. We don't need any of your fucking aggro crap on this team. Loosen up, OK? Or fuck off."
That night over dinner, mom started giving me the third degree again. "Have you made any friends on the team, son?"
"Nope. They're all lamos."
"That's what you say about everybody, Mark. Surely they can't all be lamos, as you put it."
"Don't gimme any grief, mom. I just don't like the guys. OK?"
"Sometimes I wish your father were here to sort you out. You and your shaved head, and all this anti-social behaviour."
"Forget it, mom!" I snapped as I left the table and headed to my room. I was furious with that fucking smartass Kyle, and there was no way he was gonna get off lightly. I seized my chance the next afternoon after swim prac. He was the last one outa the pool and I was waiting for the creep.
"OK, dude, there's nobody around to see us, so let's have it out."
"I've got nothing to have it out for, man," he shrugged. "I hit you 'cause of what you said in front of the whole damn school."
I pushed him to get him riled, but he just started walking toward the change rooms. I'd already planned to counter that little maneuver, though. A friend of mine was waiting at the entrance. "You don't get through until Mark says it's OK, dude."
The moment Kyle turned around to face me, I hit him right in the breadbox. He went down like a stone and passed out. The next morning, as the fuckwit arrived at school, I smiled at him. All my hangers-on were smiling at him, too, letting him know that if he fucked with me, he was dead meat. He walked past without so much as a peep, so the dude had obviously learnt his lesson.
With that outa the way, I figured I had respect from the guys on the team, so I walked up to Ross and Kyle at swim prac and tried to make friendly convo. "Piss off, Mark. Kyle's times are down because of what you did, asshole." I glanced at Kyle and got the impression that he wasn't mad at me, and that maybe he even felt sorry for me. The fucker should have hated me, but he didn't. Or, at least, he didn't show it. Why?
That night, I thought about all the shit that had happened. What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I make friends like other dudes did? Why was I so fucking aggro? Yeah, I'd fucked up badly, but what was I gonna do about it? How come everybody liked Kyle? I'd called him a faggot in front of the whole damn school and, later, punched his lights out. But the team still liked him more than me. Well, truth was, they didn't like me at all. Fuck it, making friends was outa my league. Who needed the fuckers anyway. I was better off being alone.
I decided to forget about all the friendship crap and just concentrate on my gym work and swimming. Ross and Kyle qualified for the 100 and 200 freestyle, while I qualified for the 200. The three of us finished almost on top of each other.
There was a school swim tour coming up pretty soon and, although we were on a week's holiday from school, the team practiced every day from about nine in the morning. As time went along, I got friendlier with the guys, maybe 'cause I wasn't trying so hard. I was also getting to know Kyle a bit better. He wasn't the showoff that I'd first thought -- he was a genuinely friendly dude who got a kick outa making people laugh. I guessed he was kinda growing on me. Ross, on the other hand, was being very business-like. The only time he talked to me, it was about swimming. He wasn't friendly at all. I figured it was gonna be a while before he got his fucking knickers untangled about the shit I'd dumped on Kyle.
I didn't know if it was just my imagination or whatever but, in the showers, I would occasionally catch Kyle checking out my bod. It was only for a split second or so -- not as if he was gawking or anything -- just a quick, sideways glance -- but it was hard to shake the feeling that he admired my bod. That was cool, though. Heck, why shouldn't he? Actually, he was a bit of a head-turner himself.
Before I'd joined the team, I thought that guys didn't talk about other guys' bods. But I'd soon learned that that wasn't the case at this school. Dudes often sized each other up and awarded points out of ten. The guy who'd left school and gone on to college, Darren, showed up at prac one day and was shouting the odds, and calling Kyle a piece of shark shit. He challenged Ross, Kyle and a couple of other guys to a race. I was feeling a bit pissed at not having been chosen but I didn't know the guy. Anyway, Kyle, with his usual enthusiasm, yelled, "Yeah! Let's go!"
When I first saw Darren, I could understand what Ross had meant when he told me about this guy jacking off in the showers when ever he felt like it. He was off the scale when it came to points from zero to ten. He was one of those guys you just couldn't help admiring -- perfect physique and a strong personality that dominated the group. But the thing that really amazed me was that nobody was embarrassed about ogling him. That made be feel better 'cause I was ogling him, too. It was impossible not to. He was awesome.
As for points in the bod stakes, Ross was a ten while I scored an eight. But eight was pretty cool considering how many guys on the team had killer bods. Kyle? Well, he didn't make eight but he was still pretty hot, not that there was any fucking way in the world that I was gonna tell him.
All the talk about bods and points eventually led to one of the guys suggesting that we put on a strip show for the girls. Strip show? Cool! If a bunch of guys could give me an eight, the girls would go ballistic. I figured it was a neat idea and threw my hat into the ring, but Ross shook his head. "No way, Mark. You're not invited."Copyright © 1999 All rights reserved. mrbstories
