Naval Tradition IV: Back to Normal

Written with Corporal Cody

Charlottesville, Fall 2004

I don't think it fully hit me how completely crushed out I was on Ben Feldman until one Sunday in early October, when he didn't show up to our normal perch at the neighborhood bar. I knew he had no obligation to, but I felt stood up in an odd way - and almost mopey as I sat at the bar and had my pint alone, despite the small crowd around me. It was the last regular-season game, and was a match up between the Orioles and the Red Sox, no less. The Sox were on fire that season and already playoffs-bound. Nonetheless, I'd been looking forward all week to some friendly rivalry with Ben over the last game in the series.

I didn't even stay to see the final innings of the game and left when the Orioles were up one in the sixth. I was feeling really down, now, as I walked home in the cool afternoon air, zipping up my hoodie and staring at the sidewalk with my hands in my pockets. I began to wonder if I'd have an excuse to hang out with Ben after baseball season was over. And at that point I wondered if I'd ever see the guy again, and the idea that I might not almost made me sick to my stomach.

Holt was on the couch in his lounging sweats and an old beat up football T, watching football when I got home. Fall semester meant football nonstop for Holt. And that Sunday he wasn't working and instead was clearly enjoying a lazy day of down time.

"You're back early," Charlie said, beer in hand as he looked up from the TV, noticing me come in the front door. My best friend and roommate wasn't my type physically - bulky and big, Holt was way younger and smoother than what I'd usually go for - but it still blew my mind sometimes that Holt was a fellow gay dude, particularly one so no-nonsense about it. "I thought those baseball games lasted, like, forever," he added with a slight teasing smirk as he took a sip.

I sighed. "Just wasn't feeling it. OK if I join you?" I asked as I shut the door behind me and took off my hoodie and Orioles cap.

Charlie shrugged. "It's your place too, McGrath," he said as he turned his attention back to the game.

I went to the fridge to grab a beer and got another for my roommate, too. I plopped down onto the couch next to him and offered him the cold can.

Since I'd already had a pint, the second beer on the couch went down more slowly. I watched the game and reflected on Holt's last comment. Normally, I couldn't care less whether other people liked baseball. I loved it. It was almost like fandom was a private club - one that anyone could join but that wasn't for everyone. But at that moment, watching the rushed pace of the football game in the 4th quarter, my frustration of the moment came bubbling up.

"Holt, why are you always ragging about how boring baseball is? I don't shit on your game." My voice was heavy with frustration as we watched a replay of the last tackle.

Charlie and I never had any argument or anything close, and I could tell it caught him off guard. "Damn, Jim. It's just in fun," he said softly, maybe a little hurt in his Virginia twang. "You know, teasing like buddies do."

"Maybe I got a chip on my shoulder," I admitted.

Holt reached for the remote and muted the TV, then turned toward me. "I know it's hard to imagine, buddy, but you should be glad you don't have the same spotlight on you guys."
"Maybe," I said grudgingly. The football team enjoyed a bunch of perks over us baseball players, but I knew what he meant.

"Look," my friend said sincerely. "I'll cut out the smack talk. But something seems to be eating at you."

I sighed with clear frustration, leaning back into the sofa and thought for a minute. Then I blurted out, "Fuck, Holt. It's boy trouble."

He nodded with a knowing look. "Why am I not surprised?" He gave me an apologetic smile. "Sorry to hear, McGrath.... Wanna talk about it?"

"You think I'm insane, don't you?" I asked in self-deprecation but also pointing to the difference of opinion between us. Charlie and I had often talked about how he thought I pined for Mr. Perfect instead of enjoying guys as they were.

Charlie shrugged. "You shouldn't put too much stock in what I think. It's your life, not mine." That summed up my friend's attitude in life to a T.

"Yeah," I acknowledged. "But you're my best friend, Holt. Of course I care what you think."

Holt seemed touched but just continued. "So, who is it this time? A professor? Another older dude?"

I shook my head. "His name's Ben. He's a little older, but not by much. A grad student."

"That's a good start," Charlie grinned.

"But he's straight... and has a girlfriend," I added.

My friend's grin became more of a frown. "Not such a good start."

"Tell me about it. I don't even know the guy that well, but..." I let my sentence die as a small smile flickered across my lips. "I don't know, Holt.... every time I see him I get butterflies in my stomach and the rest of the week I'm thinking about him. You ever feel that way?"

Holt gave a big Cheshire grin.

"No way!" I said with sudden surprise and giddiness as I sat up and faced him as well. "What the fuck, Holt?! Who is it?" I'd never seen Charlie ever give any indication he was romantically inclined at all. Charlie continued to smile as I watched a slight blush flash across his ruddy cheeks. He even began rubbing the back of his neck, showing a bit of embarrassment and letting out a small chuckle as he averted his brown eyes for a just second.

"You know my boss, Scott?" he replied with an uncharacteristic sheepishness.

"Scott Underwood? Your boss Boss? For real?" I asked, not hiding my disbelief.

Holt nodded. Scott Underwood was an ex-Cavalier football star who was now in his early 30s and a successful businessman with a couple of training gyms in the area and a supplement store where Holt worked. I'd heard Holt talk about the business owner with clear admiration but hadn't put two and two together.

"Does he know?" I asked, wondering if this was a crush like I had with Ben. Somehow, hearing about Holt's romantic interest took my mind off my woes.

Charlie gave a belly laugh and leaned back into the couch, a big goofy smile on his cherubic face. "I've swallowed about a dozen of his loads, so he better."

I laughed. "Well, if he's had the Bulldozer Special, no way he's not hooked." I took a sip of beer and got more serious. "So, like, are you guys dating?"

"I guess," Charlie said with a shrug. "It's all new, and we're still figuring it out. I don't need to rush it, and I guess Scott doesn't either. But it's fun as hell."

"Well, whatever you want, I hope you get it," I said thoughtfully.

"It's all good. But, yeah, who'd have thought I'd be with an older dude?" He paused and looked over at the muted TV to check on the score. "You might be onto something, McGrath."

"And here you were making fun of me," I said, half playfully.

His eyes locked on me, and if he weren't dating Scott Underwood - or whatever the two had going on - I'd have thought I was about to be offered a blow job. There was just this strange bond Charlie and I had. Instead, he continued the conversation. "You know, I think it's good that you're open to someone younger, Jim. Even if you do end up with an older guy."

"I guess you can't control these things," I said. But I wondered if Holt was right. For all the frustration, it did feel good to be going for someone closer to my age.

* * * *

The one thing that helped me take my mind off Ben was getting laid.

I hadn't planned for anything to happen, but I'd happened to run into Brandon, the muscle bro, fraternity guy I'd hooked up with last summer and who I'd met in Cancun on Spring Break. I was at the main library returning the book Ben had recommended and about ten paces out of the building, I heard a familiar voice.

"Jim!"

I turned around to see hunky Brandon walking toward me in a sweatshirt and jeans with his backpack slung over one shoulder. I almost wouldn't have recognized him as his ball cap obscured his face and brown hair, but as he stepped closer there was that goofy-bro smile I remembered.

"Hey," I said, caught a little off guard.

The guy clasped me in a friendly hug, bumping chests. "Great to see you, man," he said. "What you been up to?"

"Not much," I said. "Classes mostly."

He gave me a knowing look from under his cap. "Yeah, sucks doesn't it? I just got done with my last class of the day... thinking about partaking a little."

Knowing Brandon, I had a good idea what he meant by partaking. "Yeah?"

He gave me a swift nod. "Wanna join me, bro? We can head back to my room. I have some pretty good stuff." It was weird how he treated me like his best buddy, even though we'd only met twice before. But I didn't mind. I enjoyed the sight of his cute face and his fit collegiate body, which was evident even in his cooler-weather clothing.

But I knew I couldn't risk smoking pot again. "I can't, man. We get tested."

"Fuck man, that blows."

A flash of intuition told me Brandon might have an ulterior motive for inviting me. "Yeah. Happy to keep you company though," I offered. Throwing out the possibility.

Brandon immediately picked up on my willingness. I watched his brow rise and I swore, I saw a knowing smile form on his face to match the look in his green eyes. "That'd be cool," he said smoothly. The last time we had gone to his room to burn down, we'd had sex. I wasn't sure that's what was in store now, but as we walked across Grounds, on the way to the TKE house, I had a low-key excited anticipation.

That became more high-key when we were finally in Brandon's room, with him shutting and locking the door behind us. I watched him take off his cap to reveal his messy brown hair and slide out of his sweatshirt to finally show off his beefy gym build under his tight-fitting T-shirt before pulling out his bong. I slipped out of my own zip-up hoodie, but kept on my UVA baseball team cap as I knew my blond locks could get a bit unruly. I sat on the bed and he kind of sat next to me, lighting up and taking a good long toke. He held it in for a second then exhaled with a satisfied smile.

"Fuck, that's great." He held up the bong. "You sure you don't want some, bro. It's quality shit."

I could smell it. And it was tempting but I shook my head and gave him an apologetic smile. "Nah," I replied, only to watch him take another toke, then set the bong down on his nearby desk.

The fraternity guy scooted closer to me with a goofy grin, now shoulder to shoulder as his leg bumped up against mine. "Great running into you, man."

"Yeah," I said, returning his smile. "I guess it was last summer when I last saw you?"

He nodded. "Fuck, it was." He paused, giving me a stoned look as he locked his green eyes on me. I watched the goofiness fade from his face and demeanor. He tilted his head in just a bit. "I'm pretty horny... are you?" he asked just under his breath.

His eyes were swimming in weed and lust.

"Oh yeah," I said with an equally knowing stare of my own. Sitting next to this guy and thinking something might happen had me growing hard in my tight jeans.

I watched Brandon's face lean in, seeking my mouth as his lips gently parted. I met him halfway there. And just like that, Brandon was kissing me. Nothing hard or too tongue-filled as his lips felt relaxed and mellow, his tongue hinting at the subtle flavors of his choice of pot. I softly kissed him back, feeding off the growing thrill of a wholly unexpected encounter. Now that I wasn't stoned, I could clearly sense there was something unusual about the way Brandon kissed. Like his mind was far away, detached from the action as he let his horniness and lust take control. I wasn't crazy about it, but his tongue was soon battling mine and his hand was massaging my erection through my jeans, and I was getting turned on anyway.

Besides, it wasn't long before Brandon pulled off and looked down to watch himself undo my jeans and unzip my fly. He grunted softly as I pulled my briefs down just enough with a bit of a struggle, wrestling my 8-inch hardon free. With my jeans open and the waistband of my underwear tucked below my balls, my cock stood up hard as rock as it pointed up at my chin.

"That's a big motherfucking dick," Brandon said with stoned awe. "I've been thinking about it since our last time."

I reached up and ran my hand along the back of his neck. This guy was cute all right - boyish good looks and moppy brown hair. "Yeah? Anything in particular you've been thinking about doing with it?" I thought maybe I could coax him to go down on me. I'd loved having him suck me off during our previous time.

Brandon paused, peeling his eyes away from my dick and gave me an almost naughty look, then reached down to grip my boner with a firm grasp. "You ever fuck a dude?" he asked with a gravely and hushed voice as I watched a blush flash across his cheeks.

I didn't know how much I wanted to admit to Brandon. Last time, we'd both played it straight. And maybe he was, mostly. But after his question, I immediately loved the idea of getting to fucking him.

"I have," I admitted as I felt my cock pulse in his tight fist. "Would love to be inside you." I leaned forward, taking his smirking lips and kissed him again, almost to reassure him of an idea he was unsure about.

Brandon finally leaned back and pulled his T-shirt off. I could see the intervening months hadn't affected his flawless, gym-honed body. "I'm gonna need some more pot to take you," he joked.

I followed suit stripping down, feeling almost giddy as Brandon and I took off the rest of our clothes for each other.

"Yeah, have it, buddy," I said, now almost naked except for my ball cap as I leisurely stroked my cock. I kind of sat while reclined on the bed, not quite impatient, but watching Brandon as he sat next to me and took a couple more deep hits of smoke.

Then he reached into his desk drawer and fished out some lube. "You know what you're doing, right?" Maybe he was getting a little concerned now.

"Yeah, I do," I assured him, feeling a more natural confidence sweeping over me as I grabbed the bottle and started lubing up. "Don't worry." I think my experiences with older men had made me comfortable taking the more in-charge role on top, too.

Brandon took one final toke, and I could tell he was totally baked as he set down the bong, crawled back onto his bed and laid back. He folded his arms behind his head as he nodded at me, telling me with his eyes and body that he was ready to be fucked.

He bent his knees up and spread his thighs as I scooted between his open legs. I took a hold of his cut, six-and-a-half incher, giving it a few strokes before slipping my lubed fingers past his balls and down his taint, into his slightly hairy cleft until I was pressing at his smooth tight hole. I slid myself up his body, finally on top of him and kissed him while my fingers gently worked him open.

I felt the heat and hardness of his cock against my abs as I plunged my tongue between his lips. He wrapped his arms around my back and groaned into my mouth as he began to respond, whether more to my kisses or to my fingers, I couldn't tell.

"You virgin there?" I finally asked him as I pressed a second finger inside Brandon.

The frat guy shook his head. "I've let a couple buddies do it. They're not as big as you, though."

"Got it," I said as I pulled my fingers from his prepped and lubed hole. I lined up my prick and pressed ever so gently against his anus. "Just let yourself enjoy getting fucked by a big one, OK?"

It was cool to imagine what Brandon saw in me. A real jock, with a cock bigger than his. And more experienced, too. My chest puffed out a little in cocky pride as I pushed forward with my hips.

"UNMNF," Brandon hissed, shutting his eyes and wincing just a bit as I felt his legs clench around my waist and his arms tighten around my back. He was tight all right, and I knew he had to feel a little sting with my thickness. I ran my hands along his thighs and nodded encouragingly. "You got this, bro," I said above him, holding still for a minute then very slowly pushing more of my dick into him. I felt his chute squeeze around me.

I was glad he was good and well stoned, since he was relaxed now as I steadily buried my dick into him. Brandon's ass was snug and hot and wonderful, and I watched the pleasure slowly grow over his cute face.

"Fuck," I grunted and lodged my cock fully inside him, making the walls of his rectum spasm around my invading girth.

"Good, bro?" he asked, that goofy grin returning to his frat-boy face.

"Fuck yes," I replied with a nod as I ground my pelvis against his ass. "Amazing." I pumped him slowly now, with a deliberate long stroke in and out.

It was wild to watch the expressions sweep across his face - uncertainty, surprise, pleasure, excitement. His dick had gone soft at entry but was now rigid again. "Aw, yeah... fuck, that's big... Oh, Fuck me, man," he grunted in a soft, low, stoned voice as his fingers dug into my lats.

I did, raising up onto my knees and pulling his calves off my waist and onto my shoulders. My thrusts were steadier now as I could feel more of his rectal muscles activate, clenching and gripping my pumping cock at every movement.

"Fuck... your ass is great," I grunted. I wasn't sure if Brandon was the kind to go vocal during sex, but I had to let him knowing how great the sensations were for me. I tightened my jaw and my grasp on his legs. "So fuckin' tight."

The sensations pulsing from his hole and prostate sent Brandon into a more excited state. As my own pleasure rose, Brandon's moans became more pronounced, as each deep thrust of my cock bottomed out in his bowels with a slap. He looked at me as if he were at my mercy, his eyes and mouth open and tension running down his muscles. Yet everything about him begged for more. I'd been there before, right where Brandon was, getting fucked good by a top who knew where to take me. I wondered if I looked like him on bottom - under Brian, Jack... Dad.

My orgasm wasn't imminent, so I focused on getting Brandon off. I pumped him faster now, trying to angle up against his swollen prostate.

"Oh man!" he cried as if our fuck was getting to be too much. "Oh fuck!"

I grabbed the lube and held my hips steady for a second as I drizzled some of the thick liquid onto his rigid dick. I then tossed the bottle aside. "OK, man, go for it," I instructed.

Brandon gripped his boner just a second before I started plowing back into him. I decided to just go for it, letting my hips buck with a mind of their own. I started really fucking him. Long, hard and deep. A metronome rhythm of my fat cock thrusting into his now open hole as his cries grew deeper.

It must have felt intense for Brandon, but the change of attack worked. His whole body flushed red and his eyes went wide. "Fuck, Jim.... Just like that... Holy fuck!"

He was too loud. I mean I don't know how much his fraternity brothers minded their business, but I didn't want them knowing what we were up to. I placed my hand on his mouth, muffling his cries just as Brandon entered orgasm. He moaned loudly into my palm and I felt the first burst of his hot seed fire between us.

As the guy came, his guts clenched tight on my dick and that did it for me, too. I'd gone from feeling in control to cumming suddenly inside his guts. I clenched my teeth and shut my eyes, trying to hold in my grunts as Brandon continued to cum. I huffed out my orgasm as I felt my hips gently thrust into him, letting his tightening bowels milk my shaft as we both came down from our orgasmic high.

I slowly removed my hand from Brandon's mouth and watched him giggle between his heavy breaths. Maybe because of how out of control he'd gotten or how dominant I'd been just then. Or maybe simply because he was stoned.

I smiled back, grateful for a hot fuck, when I'd least expected it. I slowly pulled out, his hole still softly spasming around my rubbery cock. My dick was very slick with seed, and I knew then I'd shot a lot inside Brandon. He lowered his legs and kind of rolled over to fish out a rag from his drawer, which I used to wipe off.

"Thanks, man," Brandon said, getting out of bed and slipping on some boxer shorts with his back to me. "I guess I needed that."

"I should be thanking you," I said, now sitting up on his bed and reaching down to pick up my jeans. "That was incredible." I slipped on my jeans, then my undershirt. "Think we can do that again some time?" It had been a good month since I'd gotten laid, and I realized now just how much I'd missed it.

He turned around and I noticed the frustrated, almost apologetic look on his face. "Nah, dude. That wouldn't be a good idea," he said as he continued to get dressed.

"I get it," I said. It's never fun to be rebuked, but I really did get it. I had my own issues and couldn't blame Brandon if he had his own.

Now mostly dressed, Brandon looked at me, trying to read my expression. "We're cool, right?"

"We're cool," I said, pulling on my hoodie. I sat down to put my shoes back on. "See you around, maybe?"

"Yeah," he replied. He gave me a friendly look. "You sure you don't want some weed before you go?"

"Nah man, I'm good," I replied standing up. We stood kind of awkwardly, then I nodded. "All right. Later, man."

I left the TKE house feeling like I'd shot three loads.

* * * *

It was a weird week, watching the Red Sox sweep their division series. I thought of Ben and knew he must be pleased. And by the time the AL Championship Series started, I was rooting full-on for the Sox. Not only because they were playing the Yankees, but also because they were the quintessential underdogs. Their time was due. And, damn, whether you were rooting for the teams or not, those October games were some good baseball.

It wasn't an easy series for the Sox, though. I tried not to watch the games in full, since I had too much homework to do. But I tuned in from time to time and saw the Sox lose the first three games. They won the fourth, which gave some hope.

Game 5 was on a Sunday, so I went down to my bar. "Our bar," I couldn't help but think as I walked up to open the door. Hoping Ben would be there.

He was there, but so were a good dozen other Sox fans. I had no idea if Ben knew those people or if it was just Red Sox fans excited to be in the chase and wanting to watch some live baseball. But I didn't want to intrude, so I didn't walk into the bar but backed out quietly, shutting the door behind me.

"Fuck," I thought to myself, worried if I was being stupid or smart. As I walked back into the cold and back to the apartment, I just knew I wanted to talk to Ben. A big part of me wanted to tell him how I felt, but everything about that felt complicated and treacherous.

That indecision weighed on me all through the following week. I found myself thinking of Ben all the time. In class, at home, and during my workouts. And while he entered my sexual fantasies more than once, he didn't represent an intense lust for me. It was more pure infatuation.

I had never felt anything like it. I guess my attraction to Dad was a crush of sorts, but that was layered with the transgression of our affair and the fact that I knew Dad. This attraction to Ben was a pure, one-sided, head-over-heels feeling, and it hit me hard on a different level.

The only saving grace for my emotional sanity was that our baseball scrimmages were keeping me busy. And ever since midterms, school was kicking my ass.

But come Game 2 of the World Series, there was a palpable sense the Sox might actually pull it off and break their curse. I didn't care if there was a crowd watching, I decided to go down to the bar that late October Sunday. It was definitely busy, but I nabbed a stool at the bar. I ordered my pint and made a quick scan of the place and immediately noticed Ben at a table, cheering, laughing and drinking with more than a few friends his age.

I tried to act nonchalant and pay attention to the game, but I felt my eyes drawn to Ben every minute or so - his bright brown eyes, his smiling dimples, and his short brown hair peeking out from under his usual Sox cap. He made my stomach do summersaults. I'd hoped I wasn't staring too obviously, but it took Ben a little while to notice me at the bar alone. But he eventually did and waved me over.

"Jim!" he said just short of shouting.

I picked up my pint and kind of strutted over, glad to see Ben again. He was tipsy and more than a little excited watching the game.

"I think this is the year, man," he beamed.

He introduced me to a few of his friends and I met his girlfriend, Elise, for the first time. I made some small talk but most of the attention was riveted to the screen, particularly when the Red Sox expanded their lead.

At one point I got to talking to Elise more. I thought I'd be jealous of her, and maybe I was in the sense of pure envy, but I didn't dislike her. She was nice without being overly girly.

"You a Sox fan?" I asked. She seemed to be enjoying the atmosphere more than the game.

She laughed. "Not exactly. I'm not really into baseball, but Ben's been like an excited kid all week."

"I bet," I laughed.

"I take it you're a fan?" she asked. I think Elise was glad to be able to talk to someone not fixated on the TV screen.

I was going to tell her I was an Orioles fan but rooting for the Sox, but then I figured she didn't care. "I play the sport, so yeah, I like to follow it."

I think she made the connection then. "Oh, you're Ben's Sunday bar buddy."

I was surprised he'd mentioned me, but the fact he had made me light up. I nodded. "Yeah, that's me."

"I think it's healthy for him to take a break from school. Our friends are great, but all they do is talk shop."

"Are you in his program?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No, I'm studying Cognitive Psychology. I'm a couple of years behind Ben."
"That's cool," I said. I wished I had more to say.

"Listen," Elise said, changing the subject, "Ben's birthday is coming up, and I'm throwing a surprise party on Thursday. If you want to come..."

"Yeah, sure," I said, perking back up with a smile. "I'd be happy to."

She gave me the address and the time.

The Red Sox won with 1-2-3 outs in the top of the 9th and the crowd went wild. I was getting hugs from people I didn't know. And yeah, maybe I was a little jealous when Ben embraced Elise and gave her a quick kiss.

* * * *

The following week, I weighed whether I should go to Ben's birthday party or not. I told myself I was just being a friend by going. Then I'd reflect that going was probably the worst thing for a one-sided infatuation. Ultimately, I knew I wanted to see the guy more, and to learn more about his life. But then what?

I knew Holt didn't get it, no matter how much he tried. He pretty much told me I was wasting my time. He was probably right, but every time I thought of passing on a chance to see Ben more, I'd feel a tightness in my chest and start feeling really down.

I thought back to my high school friend, Pete Miller, who'd developed a crush on me even before he knew I was gay. I always admired the guts he had to put the moves on me. It was instrumental in my own coming to terms with being gay, though now looking back I realized I didn't feel that kind of infatuation with Pete. Not to diminish my friendship or the importance of the sex for me, it was just something different.

Pete would probably be the guy to talk to now, but we'd grown out of touch over the last year. It was just one of those things.

That left one other person I felt I could talk to. Jack.

I'd just gotten back from batting practice, coming home to an empty apartment as Holt was probably still at football practice. I walked into my room and dropped my gym bag and backpack just inside the door. I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts, texting Jack Grant to see if he'd be able to talk some time, taking into consideration the time difference in California and that he may be at work. I knew very well that the Navy could keep its sailors busy at odd hours.

I set my phone down on my nightstand as I began stripping out of my sweaty practice uniform. I was half naked when I heard my phone buzzing. That had to be Jack.
"Jack?" I answered as I stood shirtless next to my bed.

"What's up Jim?" he asked. He seemed to be outside and breathing heavily.

"Is now a good time to talk?" I asked cautiously.

"Yeah, I'm good, just cooling down from a run." That explained his shorter replies. "Something wrong?" he asked, probably noting my less than jovial attitude.

"Nothing major. I just need your advice."

"Shoot."

"I guess..." I paused, suddenly sounding foolish as I sat on my bed. "...I'm in love with a straight guy." I blushed as I admitted my problem to my confidante.

There was a pause before Jack replied with an, "Oh." I suddenly felt silly, like I should know better. Jack was definitely not expecting this when he called. "A straight guy you're having sex with?" Jack asked for clarification.

"No," I chuckled nervously as I fell back onto my bed. "A real straight guy, a friend of mine. Totally one-sided."

"That sucks," he observed, half sympathetically, half cynically.

I swallowed hard as I thought of Ben and felt that lingering jumble of emotions in my gut. "It does," I said, feeling just a bit better admitting it to him. "Jack? You ever been in this situation before?" I asked. I think I needed to know that what I was feeling was normal.

"A few times, yeah," he confessed. "I fell hard for a guy senior year of high school. Daniel Turner. Tennis player and a cute fucker. And there was a guy in college I was really into. Then in the Navy, I uh..." Jack paused. "Yeah. Point is... it happens. But my instincts have gotten a little better.... Well, maybe not much," he added, with a half-joke.

I was sadly comforted at the fact that a youthful Jack knew just what I was going through.

"You doing OK though, Jim?" Jack asked with concern, maybe knowing how confusing and powerless it felt to be in this situation.

"I don't know what to do, Jack." I said, rolling onto my side as the sudden thoughts of not seeing Ben made my gut tighten.

"Well..." he seemed to be thinking. "You have three options," he said. "Tell him how you feel. Cut him out of your life. Or continue to pine after him."

I let out a sharp exhale. I didn't notice that I'd been holding my breath. "Fuck," I said. "Those are shitty options."

"For a shitty situation," he agreed.

"Which one would you choose?" I valued Jack's opinion and felt like he understood what I was going for.

"Hm... Unless he's a super close friend, I'd stop hanging out with him. But I also know if you'd given 20-year-old me that advice, I would have ignored it and continued to try to get closer to a guy I was obsessed with."

"Well, I'm 21 now," I corrected him.

"And probably smarter than I was at your age."

"Probably not," I said, finally laughing myself out of a somber moment. "But thanks, Jack."

"Anytime," he said.

Jack quickly changed the subject, asking about school and baseball. I think Dad must have said something to Jack about the sport always cheering me up. We chatted for a few more minutes to catch up, but he had to go. I thanked him again for hearing me out before we hung up. I took my shower, going over our conversation, his experience... and his advice.

* * * *

Jack's words hung with me all week even as I realized I was talking myself into telling Ben that I was attracted to him. Despite my daydreams, I didn't expect anything to come of it. But I thought at least I'd feel better afterwards, to get it all off my chest. Maybe the party wouldn't be the best time to bring it up. But come Thursday evening, the night of Ben's birthday party, I wrapped up my workout early and begged off grabbing dinner with Kyle.

After a shower and what felt like hours trying to get my hair to look just right, I found myself debating on what I should wear. I tried not to dress like a complete jock, so I went with a preppier outfit - an athletic-cut polo shirt and a pair of nice-fitting jeans. After making sure I looked okay, I made my way over to the address I'd memorized by heart.

If I was a fish out of water at some of the artsy parties I went to with my freshman roommate, Tim, I definitely didn't belong at this one. I was obviously younger than everyone there and the only one who wasn't a grad student. I set my wrapped gift on a table with the others. I'd thought of getting Ben a history book, but knew I wouldn't be able to pick one out for him. So I'd found a good baseball memoir and brought that instead.

I did make small talk with some of the attendees and said hello to Elise before she went off to attend to other guests. I grabbed a beer from a cooler of ice and the first sips went down way too quickly.

My heart did pound when Ben showed up. He was taken by surprise, and I could tell he loved being the center of attention. Not in an annoying way, but he had this outgoing personality and fed off being surrounded by friends. His birthday mood made his normal smile that much more radiant.

I drank to get over my nervousness and within an hour I was feeling a little more at ease. I was starting on my third beer as I stood in the corner, just kind of observing the party and figuring I should leave soon. The party was mellowing out a bit more, and it was then that Ben finally made his way over.

"Jim, buddy, glad you came! Did Elise invite you?"

"Yeah," I nodded, enjoying being so close to my crush, even closer than we normally sat in the bar. "She told me to keep it a surprise."

Fuck, he was handsome, even in his regular day-to-day gray sweatshirt, faded jeans and clunky leather shoes. His wavy hair was growing into medium-length bangs, just over his brow as the light-brown color set off his dark eyes perfectly. And of course there were those fucking dimples which made my heart melt.
"So which one is this?" I asked.

"Twenty seven," he replied. "Getting to be an old man."

We talked a little bit more, then he patted me on the arm in a friendly fashion. "Listen, buddy, I'm gonna make the rounds some. But I'm glad you came."

"Of course," I said. "Happy birthday, Ben."

He gave me a playful wink. Not flirty, more friendly, but damn it fueled my desire, bad. Then he stepped to the side and made his way down the now-crowded hall.

I had initially hoped he would open my present with me there. But at that moment I was glad he didn't. It was an irrational fear, but I worried everyone there could read that I had a crush on Ben.

I finished off my beer and set down my bottle, sliding past people as I made my way to the front door and quietly slid out. I didn't look back as I listened to the sound of the party fade behind me. I made my way outside, sticking my hands in my pockets as I felt the brisk autumn hair blow across my bare arms and face. I didn't bring a jacket, but that was fine. I slowly made my way back to my apartment in the cold as I realized this was a shitty situation with shitty options. Just like Jack had warned.

I had a good feeling I wouldn't see Ben Feldman again.

* * * *

I was quiet the next day at practice. I wasn't in a pissy mood, but maybe the guys thought I was just in game-focus mode. It wouldn't be the first time. All I could think about was Ben, and I replayed the party in my head. Deep down, I knew I didn't do anything wrong. It was just an impossible situation for me.

As we wrapped up, my buddy and teammate, Jeff, came up to me in the locker room and asked if I wanted to come by his place that evening for a little get together. My teammates Jeff, Jordan, and Alex had an off-campus house that had become the de facto party house that year. I guess the guys on the team didn't have much originality as we nicknamed it the Animal House, and at least once a week there would be a party there. It sounded like a great antidote to the awkward grad student party the night before.

That night, maybe I got a little too drunk. I usually stuck to beer, but that night I downed a couple of shots, too. I was having a great time, but also drowning my troubles. It was the best I'd felt in a month, not since my visit to Norfolk, and I realized that weekend had been a break from Ben, too. Time would let me forget the guy, and in the meantime the alcohol was helping.

I generally felt very much like a follower of the crowd, but by junior year I felt I was finally coming out of my shell more. I knew how to have fun on the weekend and still keep my grades up and maintain my focus on baseball. And I'd found a better balance between my surreptitious sex with guys and my hetero persona with my buddies.

Still, guys on the team started ribbing me more about not dating anyone. The cover I'd gained by dating Kristen Alford freshman year was starting to reach its expiration date.

So when a cute sorority girl started hitting on me, I went with it. Her name was Ashley and she was much shorter than me, a petite sophomore with long, not so naturally blonde hair. Feeling buzzed, I started flirting back with her. I'm not straight, and I didn't have much experience with women, but even then I knew the difference between a woman chatting a guy up with potentially romantic interest and a girl who was in the mood to get laid. Being a jock helped me, I suppose, and the fact that I had a tall, strong build but also seemed quiet and nonthreatening.

I started returning her flirtation and finally leaned down and kissed her. Right there in front of everyone. I knew why I was doing it, and I felt like a dick, but Ashley seemed to love it. Her hand brushed against my crotch as we kissed. Her petite hand was quick and surreptitious in its touch, almost barely a nudge even. But while I wasn't rock hard, my dick was firm enough to let her know I was interested.

"You wanna go somewhere and make out?" I finally asked.

She gave me a coquettish smile and nodded.

I could have taken her back to my place, but I wanted this to be clear that it was just a fuck. So I told Ashley to hang tight and went to find one of the guys who lived in the house. Jordan was the first one I found.

"Hey McGrath, having a good time?" he greeted me drunkenly, throwing a meaty arm around my shoulder.

"Oh yeah," I said and explained the situation: I had a girl who was hot to fuck and wanted to know if there was a spare room I could use?

He clipped my shoulder with his hand. "Use my room, bro. Last one on the right. Just don't make a mess of it."

"Got it," I said. "You're the best, Myers."

I held Ashley's petite hand as I gently led her down the hall. She giggled some from the alcohol she'd had and the sense of naughtiness.

I won't go into the details. I knew how to do the job, and while I probably wasn't the best lay she'd have, by a long shot, she was getting a real, live baseball jock and I could tell she was turned by my body. I gave enough foreplay then rooted around Jordan's night stand for a rubber. The regular size condom was certainly snug on my girth, and I felt its tight squeeze, but it would have to do.

Ashley's clear excitement for my body helped fuel my slow, steady fuck. And when I started to worry I wouldn't be able to cum, particularly with the condom on, I started thinking of Jordan fucking some girl in this very bed. I could even smell his cologne on the pillow and it spurred me to envision his naked athletic body, heaving, ass clenching... and his cock. It was probably the first time I'd ever fantasized about a teammate, and it had me cumming.

Afterwards, I stripped off the rubber and took my time making out with Ashley. Even if this was a one-off fuck, I knew with a chick you couldn't just zip up. But finally I told her we needed to head back to the party.

I got a lot of knowing smirks from my teammates that night. Ryan came up to me with a wicked grin. "Dude, Ashley Powers is a fucking slut. I think she's been balled by half the team." Apparently the young woman was a bit of a jock groupie.

I just gave a drunken shrug. "Dude, I'm not looking to date her," I said. "I just needed to get laid."

I knew I'd bought myself some more time to be free from scrutiny.

* * * *

I thought I'd regret the incident, but I spent the next couple of weeks feeling a sense of relief.

And sex with a girl had a way of clearing my head. I was in the middle of a crazy busy semester and took care of my sexual needs more mechanically - jerking off in bed first thing when I woke up, then stroking off to porn videos or images in the evening before I began my homework. My sexual imagination could still run wild, but in general those moments were quick and routine releases.

I was glad for Thanksgiving break. A pause from baseball practice and the intense end-of-semester flurry of schoolwork. A couple of days back in Norfolk sounded perfect and maybe I'd come back by Saturday to enjoy the quiet of campus for a day or so.

Holt seemed even more excited for an extra couple of days off. Football season had been a real grind, and I got the sense that maybe Holt's heart wasn't in it this year. It was like senioritis hit a semester early for him.

Tuesday night, right before the five-day weekend, Holt took advantage of no Wednesday classes or practice for a chance to go stay over at Scott's before heading home to Daleville to see his family on Thanksgiving morning.

We were in Holt's room. I sat reclined on his messy bed and watched him pick out his clothes from a pile he'd just pulled from the dryer as we chatted about sports, school, and the much needed break. I wasn't leaving until tomorrow at the earliest, so I still had to pack my own stuff. I'd told Holt about cutting ties with Ben.

"Eh, I know you've been down about it, Jim," he said. "But it's really for the best. Plenty of fish in the sea."

As I relaxed on Holt's bed, I listened to him talk about his planned night with Scott, and I couldn't help but notice the excitement in his face, demeanor, and movements. He was grinning as he sloppily folded his clothes before shoving them into his overnight bag, talking about work and something that Scott did or said that had him laughing or smiling all day.

"So it's official, huh? You and Scott? Boyfriends?" I asked as Holt held up a shirt. He looked at me with bright brown eyes.

"Yeah, I think so, McGrath," he said with a nod as he let his smile widen between his ruddy cheeks. Holt wasn't my type of guy, but seeing him smiling and genuinely happy gave him a level of handsomeness beyond the youthful masculine good looks of a college football player.

I smiled back in response. I was happy for Holt, but I still felt the rawness of what happened with Ben still there under the surface, tinged with just the tiniest bit of jealousy. I tried to hide it, but Holt seemed to catch on, giving me a more sympathetic smile. "You gotta meet Scott soon, McGrath," he said as he finally zipped up his packed overnight bag. "I've told him all about you."

"Sounds good, I'd actually love to meet him," I replied, but a thought occurred to me just then. "Uh, Holt? You didn't tell him I was gay, did you?" I asked, trying not to sound too accusing. Even if Scott Underwood was gay, too, I wasn't sure I was wild about more people knowing about me.

Holt gave me a slightly annoyed look. "I know better, Jim," he said. "I just told him you're my open-minded best friend."

"I guess I am that," I joked. "Thanks, Holt."

"Have a good trip back home," he said. "When you coming back?"

"Probably Saturday. In time to watch your game," I smiled. Virginia had an away game that Saturday, but a few teammates and I would probably watch it on television.

"Last game of the season," he sighed. "Can't wait for some goddamn free time."

Just then we heard a firm knock at the front door.

"That's him," Holt said in excited surprise as he bolted out of the room.

"Hey there, handsome," a voice bellowed from the entrance. Scott Underwood had a deep, mellow voice.

I heard the soft sound of a quick but passionate kiss, then Holt asked his boyfriend, "Come in and meet my roommate."

I grabbed Holt's overnight bag for him and stepped into the hallway and met them in the living room. Scott fit the physical profile of an ex-jock to a T. Tall and broad-shouldered with a bulky muscular build from his college days as a star tight end. An injury had kept him from going pro, but his upper body and legs showed all the strength of a former player. While he showed more solidity than Holt's stockiness, Scott now had a modest beer belly adding girth to his large frame.

"Scott Underwood," he greeted, offering his beefy mitt for a firm handshake. His face was surprisingly handsome for a jock, sea-blue eyes that nicely complement Holt's brown ones, and his gelled and neatly combed brown hair that thinned at the corners of his hairline.

"Jim McGrath," I said, maybe playing up my jock demeanor, which by now was a defense mechanism. "Pleased to meet you. Holt's told me a lot about you."

Scott's face lit up with a bright smile. "He has now, has he? Hope nothing too unflattering."

"No, sir," I said in automatic deference.

"Sir?" Scott teased. "You make me feel 55."

Holt rolled his eyes. "Jim's a military brat, that shit's ingrained."

Scott turned back to me. "Nothing wrong with manners. But please, it's just Scott."

"Yeah, sorry," I said, relaxing into a less formal vibe.

"You should come out to visit sometime," Scott offered. "Would be nice for Charlie to have one of his friends over instead of having to hang out with us old guys."

"Sounds great. Maybe once the semester wraps up," I replied.

He nodded. "It's an official invitation then." He patted his thighs and turned to Holt. "All right, Big Boy, ready to go?"

"You bet," Charlie replied as I handed him his bag. As they stood side by side it was remarkable how cute of a couple they were, and how happy Charlie was in Scott's presence. The attraction went the other way, too.

"Very nice to meet you, Jim," Scott said in a mixture of politeness and friendliness. "See you around soon."

"See you when you get back," Holt said as I waved at both of them, right before he shut the door behind him.

After they left I enjoyed the peace and quiet of having the place to myself. I got a head start on my homework, but by 8 felt I was in good shape for the long weekend. I knew just what would fit the bill: a nice, long edging session. I hadn't treated myself to an extended masturbation for some time.

Part of me wished I could get high, but instead I settled for opening a beer, sitting at my desk and slowly sipping as I watched some porn and massaged my thick shaft in nothing but my shorts. It was tempting just to go ahead and whip it out, but I knew I'd enjoy the slow build up.

Holt and I had sprung for broadband internet recently, and while it was useful for research and generally staying connected, it also transformed my porn consumption. I tried not to rely too much on pornography, but particularly with the rough semester I'd had, my JO time was a welcome release.

Before, I'd built up a well-curated but limited collection of some personal favorite video clips on my laptop. Now I enjoyed the act of searching for new material and seeing what was out there. I took the opportunity to look for videos featuring guys my age or in their 20s. I found one porn star who looked a bit like Ben Feldman. Not a dead ringer, but a cute, brown-eyed, medium-built, 20-something guy adept at both topping and bottoming.
That evening, I was looking for any new videos with that star when I got detoured in my search by one labeled with some variation of "Dominant Daddy." My heart pounded as I downloaded it and clicked play. The video began with a guy in his 20s - muscular but lean, kind of jocky - on his knees with his hands behind his back, waiting expectantly. He was naked but not erect, and fuck if his body wasn't perfect.

Pretty soon, another man walked into the frame. Bigger in stature, with beefy muscle - maybe more overdone than I like, even. But as he walked a thick, long erection swayed menacingly. The daddy wore a ball cap so that you could barely see his eyes or his facial features, but he was square-jawed and clean shaven.

His voice boomed as he strutted in. "You ready to be my fucking bitch, boy?" he growled.

The younger man didn't flinch or hesitate. He just replied, "Yes, sir."

The daddy grinned and stepped to sway his hips, making that hard dick gently slap the young jock's face. "Daddy didn't hear you, slut."

The young man's voice raised, trying to gain confidence. "I'm ready to be your bitch, sir!"

"You gotta earn that right," the older man said. Then barked, "Open up!"

The bigger man gripped the jock's head, placing his cut hardon at the tip of the younger man's open lips and just shoved in with little ceremony. The young jock coughed on that intruding dick and gagged for air. I wished the daddy would take it easier, really, but something about this video was hot as fuck. I watched in rapt attention, no longer daring to touch my dick for fear of it going off.

For every part of me that wished the young man would assert himself, or that the Daddy would suck the young guy's cock in return, I also recognized this was a ritual between the two men, designed to get them both off. I thought back to Jack Grant and his Rear Admiral fuck buddy. I still didn't know what they did together - if it was anything as intense as this video - but I now knew the appeal, the attraction of this kind of scene for Jack.

And I knew I'd love to try some version of this with the right guy.

As soon as that video was done, I slipped off my shorts. My erection was hard and reddened and angry, and I was leaking like crazy. This was going to be an intense edge session for sure. I searched for and found a couple other dominant-man videos but they didn't quite do it for me. Either the top was downright too rough, or the sex talk seemed hokey and scripted.

But I knew what would get me off. I slathered some vaseline on my prick and cued up that first video to the right moment. The big daddy was covering the younger guy from behind, both stretched on the bed, the jock bottom face down, as the older man planted his hand on the bottom's mouth and just started jack hammering his ass. I loved getting fucked like this and by far it was my favorite position to watch in porn. Something was so primal and animalistic about it.

"Take that fucking load, bitch. Take Daddy's cum, you fuck hole," the man growled.

I nutted so hard. Heavy, hard spurts everywhere, it was like my balls were being emptied from the inside out. And it just kept coming.

I was out of breath when I came to, my eyes still watching the video as the daddy extracted his spent meat and gave a hard slap to the bottom's reddened cheeks. "Get the fuck out of here," he growled.

I cleaned off and felt weirdly ashamed I'd gotten off to that scene. I still wasn't sure I liked all of that. The way the daddy top seemed unappreciative of his hot bottom turned me off. And some of the verbal insults were on the edge of being off-putting.

But I had to admit, it was the best orgasm I'd had since my hookup with Brian. A cum that good was long overdue.

I wiped off and went to get another beer. I thought of watching some movie on cable but decided to read one of the books Ben had recommended instead.